#midas shut up challenge!!!!

[m1d-45]

Happy Valentine's day!

teddy, flowers for you - 🌸🌷🌹💐!

midas, flowers for you - 🌸🌷🌹💐!

sibling anon and stew anon and tiger anon or anyone else - 🪷💐💐🌻🌻🌼🌺,

I hope you guys had a good valentine's day! ty for the flowers, I've also never received them apart from my family lol

I also didn't know that all our names together spelled med room that's hilarious I need to think of sm with this

speaking of genshin, your kaz is better than mine(mines having an identity crisis bc I can't chose to build him on EM or crit rn) (and am overall focusing on ayaka since I'm building her rn)

- 🍄 (feeling very tempted to just drop my uid, the only other game I play apart from genshin is TCG *help* I play genshin sm my friends let me into their accts to play for them)(ar55 and world lvl 8 btw)

uhh something quirky so i can put a readmore here

yeah if you :

midas teddy mushroom

mid ted room

med room

it’s stilted but it works

also the only reason my kazuha is even okay at being a dps is because i want “what’s meta” and put everything everywhere into attack stats. it’s only recently that i’ve been trying crit and it’s giving me a crisis. i learned tighnari scaled off em and nearly cried.

aLSO IF YOURE BUILDING AYAKA WE COULD RUN THE DRAGONSPINE DOMAIN TOGETHER!!

i need blizzard for my chongyun n kaeya (who somehow?? still doesn’t have a good circlet???) so we could farm… together

(yes i know i shouldn’t build chongyun bc he’s not a good unit meta-wise or wtv but yk what fuck that and whoever says otherwise he works so well in permafrost w/ xingqiu that i don’t care. “oooo hes bad at cryo applications and shatters freezes” how about you get good at the game and accept that the boyfriends work well together.)

(hi i’m midas and have a lot of emotions about chongyun. he and razor are my claymore sons and i would die for them. if anybody clowns on their sword boyfriends then they’ll face my blade in a duel to fhe death)

[squideo]

Advert Alchemy: Supernatural Skittles

In this series, Squideo has examined the best ways to turn advertising content into gold. Now that we’ve broken down the eight key ingredients, it’s time to dive deep into some examples of stellar advertising. This week, the advert in question was picked by Squideo’s Marketing Executive, Emily Woodcock.

When asked why this Skittles advert has become her favourite, Emily said: “I saw it on television while I was on holiday. Maybe that's why it stuck in my mind. The dark humour certainly caught my attention and I loved the reference to Midas (of Greek mythology). Despite the video's resolution quality, I also think it's aged really well.”

Skittles Dance

This is the second appearance of the Mars Inc. company in our Advert Alchemy series. We’ve dived into the background of this American business, so let’s focus on Skittles. The history of its creation is a bit murky, but it’s widely accepted that a small British manufacturer first launched Skittles in the mid-1970s. They were soon bought by Wrigley, which is also owned by Mars Inc., who took over distribution and brought the sweets to an international market in 1979.

Greatly resembling another Mars Inc. product, M&Ms, Skittles are distinguished by a small letter ‘S’ on their shell. The range of flavours has changed several times over the decades like many other Mars products, and variation flavours have also been sold such as Tropical and Wild Berry. Unlike other products under Mars Inc., there hasn’t been any major rebrands attached to Skittles. The name has never been changed and the branding remains recognisable decades apart.

The product was marketed a very specific way from the start, and was so successful it stuck. A rumour spread about the origins of the sweet that it was invented by a British confectioner who looked up at a rainbow and wondered how it would taste. The slogan – “Taste the rainbow” – wouldn’t be introduced until 1994, but the sweet has always had this colourful association which Wrigley’s marketers have loved to centre their campaigns around.

Somewhere Over the Skittles

Launched in 2007, Skittles’ advert was created by TBWA, Chiat and Day. The brand had already run a series of successful adverts, in terms of viewership and commercial impact, and audiences started to have high expectations from the brand.

According to the Art Director Craig Allen, “We wrote a lot of scripts [and] thought it would be funny to do a slightly sad spot for a candy brand.” Former GCD Ian Reichenthal said, “We had a lot of conversations with the guys in advance about trying out new voices, but still keeping it Skittles.” The brand guidelines were firmly in place for the creative team, unlike previous entries in the Advert Alchemy series who were looking to shake things up.

Skittles adverts often feature technically challenging shoots, such as the one centred around a Skittles tree growing out of a human being. Recreating the powers of Midas also proved to be difficult:

“The effects in the spot had never been done before so we had a lot of technical problems, which made for a very long shoot day. So long in fact that the police came to try and shut us down during the last hours of shooting. Luckily, Tom (Kuntz) is a very smooth gentleman and persuaded them to let us finish.”

Their hard work paid off, and the Midas Touch advert was ranked as Creativity Online's most watched spot of 2007. But why was Skittles’ Midas Touch such a big hit?

Skittles Connection

Mesmerizing Mythology

Named for the myth that inspired the advert’s plot, the Midas Touch gives the main character Tim a superpower: everything he touches turns into Skittles. Yummy. On the other, everything he touches turns into Skittles. Yikes. This is a spin on the Greek myth of King Midas, who wished that everything he touched would turn to gold. Unfortunately, he didn’t think his wish through and Midas soon found he can’t eat. And when he tried to hug his daughter, he turned her into a gold statue.

This Greek myth remains popular in modern storytelling, which is why this fun spin on a well-known story worked so well. It also fits into the wider Skittles marketing strategy, which often uses the sweets in bizarre ways. In one advert, Bleachers, there is an outbreak which makes people break out in Skittles.

Snappy Slogan

“Taste the rainbow” was introduced as the Skittles slogan in 1994, but the marketing team have always kept this slogan adaptable and flexible. Usually it is accompanied with a tagline which can change to reflect the nature of the advert. In Midas Touch it’s “touch the rainbow, taste the rainbow” in reference to Tim’s superpower. In an advert featuring a tree which grows Skittles, the slogan is changed to “harvest the rainbow, taste the rainbow.”

The taglines use of verbs also reinforce that Skittles is an experience that the audience needs to actively participate in. Skittles isn’t just a snack, like the sweets aren’t just multicoloured. It’s a taste of the rainbow. And in the case of Midas, it’s as good as gold.

Cackling Comedy

Tim can’t hold his infant child, he can’t dress himself, or feed himself… then he tells the story of turning a man into Skittles that very day when they shook hands. Is that murder or manslaughter? Either way, Skittles’ Midas Touch is definitely running with dark comedy which helps make the advert even more memorable. Yet the plot is kept just light enough to avoid crossing into the macabre, by showing Tim’s power only used on inanimate objects.

Comedy is a staple of the Skittles brand, ranging from the bizarre to the grisly. They carry this over in all of their marketing, from adverts to their website. Customers now expect it of the brand, which has let the marketing team get ideas from well outside the box.

Content Worth Gold

What do you think? What made Skittles’ Midas Touch advert so successful? Watch the full advert below and let us know in the comments.

Get in touch with the Squideo team today to find out how we can improve your advertising strategy with video production, motion graphics, social media management and much more!

[virtuesuncounted]

loveisliquor​:

“...No. I don’t want to go out because I don’t feel like getting all dressed up to be whispered about--” Andie grew up with a strange relationship to money, and wealth-- always surrounded by it but always made to understand how ephemeral it was and the kind of sacrifice it required. “Besides-- self love is easily achieved before or after said party. I wouldn’t spend my whole night... doing just that.” Her cheeks are flooded with colour now but her own embarassment does nothing to shut her up. Midas’ tone always egged her own-- made her rise to the challenge. “Oh God-- that’s not what I do--” She rolls her eyes in exasperation but the smile never quite leaves her lips. His suggestion has her mouth falling open-- “...On second thought maybe we should go out-- I'll even let you dress me up. Like a less hot Richard Gere in pretty woman--" She's good at changing the subject once she's determined and she doesn't stop rambling until she has a spread of dresses on her bed and Midas at her back. "Let the book go-- and come pick my outfit for the night--" She knows there's very little chance of distracting him once he has his mind set on something but she still has to try.

Andie was rambling, and Midas could only watch her with an amused grin on his face as he kept hold of the book. It's fun to see her like this, to watch the blush in her cheeks and know that he's the one getting her riled up – helps to cure the boredom. Now that his interest is piqued, though, he'd be damned if he'd get distracted before getting what he wanted, and so even though he watched her stand up and pick out a plethora of dresses - all of which would hug her figure perfectly - Midas simply watched and stayed seated in the armchair.

"No. Read this for me," he said after a moment of silence, and his voice was full of the undeserved arrogance that he'd possessed all his life. He was used to people doing whatever he wanted, to gain status, or money, or any of the other commodities he had to offer.

"After that, we'll go out. Or I'll leave you alone – whichever you prefer. But first, you read."

[needyoutocomeout]

he meets me under the taurus sun.

He isn’t someone from the comic books, he’s here to challenge my composition, to leave me with a kept eye; he leaves me lingering. His mind isn’t a holy place for angels to exist, but his body is. His shilleoute distinguishing him from the ghosts, his smoke isn’t grey, it’s Blue and it engulfs me,.

His eyes victimize me, half shut, half open the same way he makes me feel. A perceivable gaze. I find it so comforting, they’re seeing what they want to, nothing less and nothing more, my spectacles never fit him. The hazel streak through his hair shines like his crown that he wears with pride, immense pride. His vicinity is intoxicating but that is all I crave, he brings the best and worst of me at the same time. He is Midas, his touch makes me likeable to myself, but it is not legitimate and dreamlike, as his company. His smile seems to shatter through his cheekbones, his pure soul is unembellished like a lake catching the glare of the moonlight. He likes smothering his hair in front of me because he knows I like messy things, out of place. I try to bring them in order for once, but just one touch exorcises me. So I stay away unless I have to be teleported to his world, where he will keep me hostage in his dungeons. He mouths vulgar things, that comes off from a random late night group chat where his troop discusses mass extinction and the fate of the human race and presents their thesis on the female body. I don’t disapprove I simply give in and giggle. He is so public, and cautious at the same time. He is the epicentre of attention at one moment and at the other, he likes to slip out in solitude. He lacks at things so that I can be good at them and he’s good at everything I lack. We run in together and I always walk out alone. He says self esteem is just a mirage, and everybody's shit, yet he is so self conscious and knows he turns eyes in any room. He hits me up precociously when I’m in sight, he doesn’t mind his company, because he never chose one. He is always transient, like the moon, the moon I pray upon every day. He comes from the kingdom of Atlantis and is planning a burial like Tutankhamun.♡

[nomunamuinmybrain]

Take care of you (M)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: M

Genre: Slice of Life/ Fluff/ Smut

Word Count: 1.5K

At last, a collaboration with my best friend@alwaysdarkestbeforethedawn94, the person responsible for my kpop obsession. She is my rock and without her this tumblr page wouldn't even exist. Every time we meet we go on a ride by the coast line and come up with possible scenarios of what we assume might be happening or has happened in the lives of BTS. Since we are in quarantine we will be sharing with all of you.

Disclaimer: if you are under the age of 18 please know that this is heavy sexual content.

Summary: When Yoongi comes back home late from a schedule, you make sure he gets the treatment of a lifetime.

Being with Yoongi is with no doubt one of the best experiences in your whole existence and by all means you are convinced it will last a lifetime. At the beginning of your relationship, the man had been a spellbinding enigma waiting for someone to finally decipher him. Undoubtedly, who were you to say ‘no’ to such a challenge?

Invariably, a true workaholic; married to his job while the rest of his body is entangled with music; you simply couldn’t have one without the other. Sometimes it makes you wonder how he is so competently skillful at his own craft. He has been carrying a great deal of nicknames to his name; musical genius, a prodigy, King Midas of the musical pentagram to name a few. You couldn’t say you disagreed, everything the public has said about him is completely and utterly true; he genuinely turns to gold everything he touches. Once he sets his mind on a project there is literally nothing that can stop him. He immerses himself into it and delivers in a way that exceeds every imagination. Of course, he would try to argue with you about that if he were here this very moment, but you knew different.

That’s why you found yourself at his place this late at night. He had told you approximately two months ago that they were planning something big for their future live performances. You knew very well by now that comeback week was the busiest most exhausting period for any artist but given Yoongi's status the situation was amplified times a hundred. Needless to say, that instantly meant a mountain load of work waiting to be done not only for him, but also for the rest of the group. Consequently, for you, this time of the year implied way less time with him and more time on the phone talking at ungodly hours of the day. It’s for that reason he gave you his apartment’s keys last weekend. He hadn’t given you a definite explanation for his action other that “It is about time”. However, you knew better than that. Yoongi is always so attentive to your needs, and even if he hadn’t said it out loud, there was no need to; you could read him like the back of your hand. He is an incredibly considerate, understanding and patient individual. He always goes out of his way to silently make others feel special, and that is one of the things you love about him.

You tried your best to make his arrival back from the showcase as serene as possible. He is giving you so much already that you wanted to give him back just as much. Once he opened the door you understood that he is spent, you can tell from the soft way his eyes slowly shut, ready to surrender in a deep slumber. After setting the table and getting something to eat he takes a quick shower to rid himself off the reminiscence of the day. After that, he moves to the cabinet near the wall, opens the door, pours himself a glass of whiskey and heads to the couch in the living room. It doesn’t take a lot of time to notice that he is already under the influence of dark liquor. You gently approach him sitting right beside him on his dark smooth couch and lean in to his chest. He smells clean and soft, he wore clothes straight out of the dryer right after his shower. You snuggle closer to him, this white t-shirt making him look so hot, you swear it's almost see-through, and you let your hand wander on his torso, tracing the lined muscles that lay underneath. You stare at his gentle features, eyes closed and you feel like you are in a trance. You think to yourself “Damn, he is so easy on the eyes”. The only thing getting you out of this state of bewitchment is his voice. He softly grunts, a smirk stretching his face, "You have no idea how much my whole body aches...." he signs."What can I do to help my baby?" you ask full of anticipation, mentally preparing a list of things you would like to do to him. "Whatever it is that you have in mind, I am all yours to play with" he replies, gaze filled with implication. And that was the push you needed to devour your man. At once you straddle his thighs, hands flying to the back of his neck to grasp on his healthy vibrant hair and bring him

closer for a painfully lustful kiss, you are insatiable tonight. You’ve missed him so much. "I needed your lips on mine, I missed you so much baby" you unapologetically confess. His large hands massage your thighs and then travel to your backside pushing you even closer, making you one. It was times like this when you felt like you had no clue where he ended and you began. "I can tell", he says with a low grunt. Deep throaty moans rumble from his chest the faster you rub yourself on him while leaving aching marks all over his arched neck and toned chest. "Yes, yes....Mark me, baby. I'm all yours. U-ugh... All yours" he lets out, words almost like a whisper. Off goes his shirt, same fate follows for the shorts and just as he's about to flip you over beneath him you immediately put your hands on his chest to stop him. "Tonight is all about you, so just lay back and relax. Let me do my job" you tease with a wink. Thinking back to all the close and personal moments you’ve both shared, inconspicuously, you absolutely treasured instances like this, watching him being so eager to find the sweet solace of relief. The shuddered exhale that escapes him leaves you satisfied. You palm his throbbing cock over his pitch black boxers, his head instinctively dropping to the back of the couch once again as a clear sign of surrender. “My sweet, sweet boy, I wanna ruin you tonight” you shamelessly admit. He already knows that this is a reward more for you rather than him. ‘Cause even though you love the way he takes over you every time you get intimate, you want him to let go and trust you. You take off the last piece of clothing standing between you and your reward, Yoongi's well endowed member. You lick across his length, earning that familiar hiss you so crave to hear. You tease him for a while, languidly sucking only the tip, saliva dripping from your plump lips making it easier for your hand to pump his thick length with accurate precision. His slender hips involuntarily twitch to thrust deeper into your sensual mouth. "Baby, please...please..." he begs as one hand lazily brushes your hair from your forehead. He is putty in your hands, all yours to devour. Your little living room filled with lewd wet sounds as you mercilessly suck him off, as if it was the very last time but still you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of him. Yoongi is like your own personal addiction.

As he's approaching his climax, hair sticking to his face, you place your left hand around his right thigh and caress. "My sweet baby, a mess, all because of me" you drunkenly declare. Hand still in your hair, the harder his grasp, the faster you go. You feel his grip in your hair becoming stronger and stronger while you hear his whines getting louder and louder. That’s how you know he is on the verge of letting go. You look up at him and take his entire glory in. "I swear he is alluring, so tempting and he tastes so good" you ponder. You continue your mistreatment and in no time he blows his load in you, releasing a loud scream to echo around the house. You keep him in your mouth observing as he slowly descents from his high. Gradually, he opens his eyes and looks back at you; face blown out yet blissful. He covers your hand with his own and with a satisfied smirk, you climb back on his lap for cuddles. You brush the damp strands away from his face to see him better, never breaking eye contact. "Was that okay?" you mischievously ask, breaking the silence. "More than okay" he joyfully exclaims. You stayed there wrapped together under the blanket until sleep called for you to head to bed. Once under the covers, he pulls your back to his warm chest and buries his face in your sensitive neck giving it a chaste peck, "I love you" he softly declares with a low whisper. You wrap your hands around his tighter, "I love you more" you profess playfully. From then on, you let your heavy eyes close taking in his pleasing scent; cherishing even the slightest thing about him you both end up falling into a deep slumber.

[alwaysdarkestbeforethedawn94]

Take Care of You (M)

Authors: @alwaysdarkestbeforethedawn94 and @nomunamuinmybrain

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: M

Genre: Slice of Life/ Fluff/ Smut

Summary: When Yoongi comes back home late from a schedule, you make sure he gets the treatment of a lifetime.

Notes: Hello World! I’ve never imagined I would be trying to write a fanfic as I always thought I was better off reading them, but look at me now. This is a collaboration with the one and only @nomunamuinmybrain​ without her this would have never existed. I owe her a lot and love her dearly. Therefore, this is going to be cross-posted on her profile too. This scenario came to be out of one of our countless late night conversations. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5K

Being with Yoongi is with no doubt one of the best experiences in your whole existence and by all means you are convinced it will last a lifetime. At the beginning of your relationship, the man had been a spellbinding enigma waiting for someone to finally decipher him. Undoubtedly, who were you to say ‘no’ to such a challenge?

Invariably, a true workaholic; married to his job while the rest of his body is entangled with music; you simply couldn’t have one without the other. Sometimes it makes you wonder how he is so competently skillful at his own craft. He has been carrying a great deal of nicknames to his name; musical genius, a prodigy, King Midas of the musical pentagram to name a few. You couldn’t say you disagreed, everything the public has said about him is completely and utterly true; he genuinely turns to gold everything he touches. Once he sets his mind on a project there is literally nothing that can stop him. He immerses himself into it and delivers in a way that exceeds every imagination. Of course, he would try to argue with you about that if he were here this very moment, but you knew different.

That’s why you found yourself at his place this late at night. He had told you approximately two months ago that they were planning something big for their future live performances. You knew very well by now that comeback week was the busiest most exhausting period for any artist but given Yoongi's status the situation was amplified times a hundred. Needless to say, that instantly meant a mountain load of work waiting to be done not only for him, but also for the rest of the group. Consequently, for you, this time of the year implied way less time with him and more time on the phone talking at ungodly hours of the day. It’s for that reason he gave you his apartment’s keys last weekend. He hadn’t given you a definite explanation for his action other that “It is about time”. However, you knew better than that. Yoongi is always so attentive to your needs, and even if he hadn’t said it out loud, there was no need to; you could read him like the back of your hand. He is an incredibly considerate, understanding and patient individual. He always goes out of his way to silently make others feel special, and that is one of the things you love about him.

You tried your best to make his arrival back from the showcase as serene as possible. He is giving you so much already that you wanted to give him back just as much. Once he opened the door you understood that he is spent, you can tell from the soft way his eyes slowly shut, ready to surrender in a deep slumber. After setting the table and getting something to eat he takes a quick shower to rid himself off the reminiscence of the day. After that, he moves to the cabinet near the wall, opens the door, pours himself a glass of whiskey and heads to the couch in the living room. It doesn’t take a lot of time to notice that he is already under the influence of dark liquor.

You gently approach him sitting right beside him on his dark smooth couch and lean in to his chest. He smells clean and soft, he wore clothes straight out of the dryer right after his shower. You snuggle closer to him, this white t-shirt making him look so hot, you swear it's almost see-through, and you let your hand wander on his torso, tracing the lined muscles that lay underneath. You stare at his gentle features, eyes closed and you feel like you are in a trance. You think to yourself “Damn, he is so easy on the eyes”. The only thing getting you out of this state of bewitchment is his voice. He softly grunts, a smirk stretching his face, "You have no idea how much my whole body aches...." he signs."What can I do to help my baby?" you ask full of anticipation, mentally preparing a list of things you would like to do to him. "Whatever it is that you have in mind, I am all yours to play with" he replies, gaze filled with implication. And that was the push you needed to devour your man. At once you straddle his thighs, hands flying to the back of his neck to grasp on his healthy vibrant hair and bring him closer for a painfully lustful kiss, you are insatiable tonight. You’ve missed him so much. "I needed your lips on mine, I missed you so much baby" you unapologetically confess.  His large hands massage your thighs and then travel to your backside pushing you even closer, making you one. It was times like this when you felt like you had no clue where he ended and you began. "I can tell", he says with a low grunt. Deep throaty moans rumble from his chest the faster you rub yourself on him while leaving aching marks all over his arched neck and toned chest. "Yes, yes....Mark me, baby. I'm all yours. U-ugh... All yours" he lets out, words almost like a whisper.

Off goes his shirt, same fate follows for the shorts and just as he's about to flip you over beneath him you immediately put your hands on his chest to stop him. "Tonight is all about you, so just lay back and relax. Let me do my job" you tease with a wink. Thinking back to all the close and personal moments you’ve both shared, inconspicuously, you absolutely treasured instances like this, watching him being so eager to find the sweet solace of relief. The shuddered exhale that escapes him leaves you satisfied. You palm his throbbing cock over his pitch black boxers, his head instinctively dropping to the back of the couch once again as a clear sign of surrender. “My sweet, sweet boy, I wanna ruin you tonight” you shamelessly admit. He already knows that this is a reward more for you rather than him. ‘Cause even though you love the way he takes over you every time you get intimate, you want him to let go and trust you. You take off the last piece of clothing standing between you and your reward, Yoongi's well endowed member. You lick across his length, earning that familiar hiss you so crave to hear. You tease him for a while, languidly sucking only the tip, saliva dripping from your plump lips making it easier for your hand to pump his thick length with accurate precision. His slender hips involuntarily twitch to thrust deeper into your sensual mouth. "Baby, please...please..." he begs as one hand lazily brushes your hair from your forehead. He is putty in your hands, all yours to devour. Your little living room filled with lewd wet sounds as you mercilessly suck him off, as if it was the very last time but still you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of him. Yoongi is like your own personal addiction.

As he's approaching his climax, hair sticking to his face, you place your left hand around his right thigh and caress. "My sweet baby, a mess, all because of me" you drunkenly declare. Hand still in your hair, the harder his grasp, the faster you go. You feel his grip in your hair becoming stronger and stronger while you hear his whines getting louder and louder. That’s how you know he is on the verge of letting go. You look up at him and take his entire glory in. "I swear he is alluring, so tempting and he tastes so good" you ponder. You continue your mistreatment and in no time he blows his load in you, releasing a loud scream to echo around the house. You keep him in your mouth observing as he slowly descents from his high. Gradually, he opens his eyes and looks back at you; face blown out yet blissful. He covers your hand with his own and with a satisfied smirk, you climb back on his lap for cuddles. You brush the damp strands away from his face to see him better, never breaking eye contact. "Was that okay?" you mischievously ask, breaking the silence. "More than okay" he joyfully exclaims.

You stayed there wrapped together under the blanket until sleep called for you to head to bed. Once under the covers, he pulls your back to his warm chest and buries his face in your sensitive neck giving it a chaste peck, "I love you" he softly declares with a low whisper. You wrap your hands around his tighter, "I love you more" you profess playfully. From then on, you let your heavy eyes close taking in his pleasing scent; cherishing even the slightest thing about him you both end up falling into a deep slumber.

[mistrumasher]

Did the six characters challenge and a few things:

Troy, you got me, guilty your honor, I don't shut up about him. Midas, alright, bet?? I wish I looked that good tho. Amara and Lilith, mostly super surprised by so many sirens???

Look, I know I'm a clown.

But then there's Markiplier??? I'm so?? Why though??? But, perfect excuse to draw some Unus Annus fanart...

[maladjustedchangeling]

It had been sixteen days, five hours, and three and a half minutes since the box, taped firmly shut and containing several hastily-poked air holes, had turned up on Percival Trefusis’s doorstep. Percival was keeping track.

He ran a pet shop, not a bloody animal shelter, as he was known to mutter under his breath. In fact, he had muttered it when he picked up the box. The box, in reply, had shuddered, and the unknown thing inside of it emitted a yowl not unlike an incensed tea kettle on full boil.

It took a sharp knife and a fair bit of magical undoing to get the box open. Whoever had left it had taken pains to ensure that its contents would not escape. It must be something valuable, Percival thought, perhaps a juvenile dragon. 

When he pulled the flap back, he at first thought that there was nothing in the box. Then two citrine eyes with slitted pupils opened in the darkness that revealed itself to be inky black fur. A common kitten, then? 

But the kitten placed its front paws on the edge of the box and pulled itself up, then continued, rising cobralike on its long, sinuous hindquarters, which had no hind legs at all.

A tatzelwurm, then. Someone must have picked it up on vacation in Germany, probably saw it on the edge of the woods as a stray and couldn’t resist. Got tired of it when they got back home and unpacked their trunk and had to return to real life post-holiday. No matter. It was cute, if common. Percival was sure that someone would be in and buy it for their little girl any day.

Little girls came in, but none of them left with the tatzelwurm. They did leave with scratches, and, Percival hoped, minimal psychological scarring. For the tatzelwurm was a horror. It hid around corners to pop out and trip customers. It stole keys, and loose change, and it made sport of terrorizing the solid-gold Midas mice that Percival kept in a large silver cage, and that were cracking good business around the holidays.

The tatzelwurm had even managed to burn a hole in the best coat of Mrs. Euphonia Miniver, who was Percival’s best customer. She had sworn never to return, but to send her tailor’s bill directly to the shop. Percival would have a time replacing her business. She spent a small fortune each month in supplies for Harold, her pet pygmy cockatrice, also purchased from Percival several years back.

There was no getting around it: The tatzelwurm had to go. There was a pound for unwanted magical creatures, a dire building at the edge of town, which smelled distressingly of burning marrow and singed hair, but it couldn’t be helped. The beast would bring him to ruin.

Percival determined that tomorrow, first thing, he would box up the tatzelwurm and hand it over to its fate. Maybe someone stupid would adopt it. But when he arrived at his flat that night--he had taken to keeping the tatzelwurm there, in a kennel, where it could not distress his other animals--he found it missing. The door of the kennel hung ajar. He must not have latched it properly after feeding the beast earlier.

Percival searched and called, assuming soothing tones to coax the tatzelwurm out of hiding, but it was no use. It stayed hidden all during Percival’s dinner, and as he took his customary bubble bath with a mystery novel afterward, and when he brushed his teeth. As he turned off his bedside lamp, Percival thought that perhaps the tatzelwurm had escaped, and was no longer any problem of his. A comforting thought that lulled him off to sleep.

He awoke in the night with a start. Something was in bed with him. He could feel hot breath on his neck, so close to his jugular, and a weight was pressing against his chest. He barely dared to open his eyes, but when he did, he found the tatzelwurm on his chest. It opened its mouth, revealing needle-sharp fangs filled with venom-- And it mewed. 

It was doing, with its two front feet, what Percival thought was called “making biscuits.” It purred, and turned itself around a few times, then curled up into a spiral on Percival’s chest. It went to sleep.

Percival did not move. He could not figure out how to escape, how to get the tatzelwurm off of him without inciting its ire. Eventually, he fell asleep. And when he awoke, it was to bright sunshine, and the tatzelwurm patting his face softly and yowling for breakfast.

He watched the tatzelwurm crunching kibble out of a saucer on the kitchen floor. He sipped his Earl Grey. He checked the time. It was really too late to catch a cab all the way out to the pound, he thought. He would do it after work. 

But a last-minute customer detained him, and it the pound was closed by the time he locked up the shop for the night. But the grocer was open, and Percival found himself purchasing a can of tuna along with the rotisserie chicken for his own dinner.

Tomorrow, he thought. Yes, tomorrow he would make the trip. But tomorrow came, and without thinking, he fed the tatzelwurm, patted it between its two pointed ears, and let it sleep on the sofa instead of locking it in its kennel.

It has now been 472 days since Percival Trefusis found a box on the doorstep of his petshop, but he’s not counting anymore. Balthazar, tatzelwurm and former foundling, now owns an assortment of catnip mice, shiny balls filled with bells that he chases along the floor, and a luxurious cat bed that he thoroughly ignores. Sometimes, when he is good, he is permitted to accompany Percival to his shop. He has mellowed, so that even Mrs. Euphonia Miniver has returned, though she has not stooped so low as to pet Balthazar.

Well, Percival sometimes thinks, as he rings up her cockatrice food and replacement industrial strength chew toys, not yet. Balthazar has a way of growing on a person.

P. S. This is part 17 of Mab’s Drawlloween Club, a challenge that I’ve been participating in this month. You can read my other pieces on my Instagram.

[m1d-45]

hello again my far love/p

there's something I feel like I need to explain?? I have a Tumblr account but I prefer to be anonymous for asks and such, I just prefer it bc I get shy(and a little paranoid that people can see me yk, I like to be a fly on the wall) I've also just began using 🍄 to ask in blogs and I've gotten attached

I've been following and liking your content before I asked yk and I'm sure if I gave you the name I go by online you'd know what my account is lmao, tbh at this rate I don't think I mind, you and teddy are cool people and I do want to talk more/play genshin with u all

I just felt like I needed to clear that up and when I said that I should create a blog I mean like, a writing blog where I post about things and such, ofc If I end up doing this I would let you know. my only issue with that is motivation and inspiration

speaking about that tho, your 1k special

- how 'insert character' felt when they became your vessels

- letters (I've seen this one before)

- windtrace/events with the creator

I think that's all the ideas I got rn, you could always do a prompt based one where it's like "can I have a latte with strawberry and chocolate with diluc" and latte = fluff, strawberry = SAGAU and chocolate = date hcs

- 🍄 (never take precalc if you're bad at math, it's sucks and I hate it. I have a test on Thursday 😭) (I feel like playing genshin with y'all would be so fun tho)

[i was gonna make a joke here about dramatically receiving a letter, then realized that you know what, rp is not something i want on my genshin impact fanfiction blog]

i 100% get the like fear of being Perceived but like…. in the gentlest way possible, i feel like a character in a shakespeare play, talking about intense worldbuilding with my vaguely queercoded best friend as we profess to be knights by each other’s side until the very end, no matter how bitter, for the audience to hear (it’s foreshadowing for how we die together on the battlefield)

(hello to everybody that isn’t 🍄 anon or teddy anon, how are y’all tonight)

uhh re: creating a writing blog, insert link to that post i made abt my tips for blog things, referencing point numbers one and seven.

also i like the letter one. that’s a good idea. i will consider it. should probably sort this out prior to 1k but ehhhhh

(i would love to play genshin with you i am both ar 58 and so bored-)

[xbeseecheuphoria]

I belong to my phantom, and my phantom is mine.

Nea steals the heart of Ion Christine, the elusive leader of the Midas Group. (Rev!Ion/Nea, based on @sinnme‘s Role-Swap AU).

Word count: 2652

The events that unfolded was like a sinfully sweet piece of chocolate that was slowly unwrapped from a foil made of gold.

Somehow, she managed to catch the eye of the creator of the Genius League, a tournament where the winner had the chance to gain riches beyond their wildest dreams. They would become a king, for all to marvel—all for winning a little tournament. That would be the case if they lived to see that day. For the conspiracy was that the winner would disappear to become the creator’s little toy, their body used for tests beyond tests. It was never proven, but people still speculated, and protested.

Despite the protests, the creator was able to mend the suspicions of the general public. There were the debates— “He’s a young adult, there’s no way he could be doing these preposterous things!” vs. “No matter how young this man may be, he still needed to be investigated!” When the protests began, the debates never ended, and nothing was done in order to regulate the Genius League for the government could do little against a tournament that was deemed savior of the economy—and the world. The creator—who had been nicknamed the same thing— “savior” only appeared at times when needed, like a thief in the night. A phantom.

And when that phantom appeared, he took sight of Nea Calais, and decided to never let her go.

As decreed by himself.

It was almost comical. Nea felt like this man drew her in. He invited her to the Genius League in disguise, challenging her and the outcome was Nea somehow being able to best him.

When he revealed himself as Ion Christine, the creator, the phantom, she nearly fainted.

Why, in the name of all that is holy and pure, would the genius 19-year old creator of the most controversial yet needed tournament invite her, challenge her, and be pleased at her win against him? She figured he would be angry, or she’d become a segment on the news, but it wasn’t like that. He was… intriqued by her. She would receive gifts from Ion. Invitations to lavish parties. He made sure she got the best suite on the Bella Cruise, which hosted the belligerents of The Genius League, and divine, luxury service of the finest foods and maintenance. Many became jealous of her.

Did Nea care? Of course not. She was powerful enough to make sure that she would be guarded against such jealousies. Involving her position as a tournament participant, however, she had to be careful. No matter how nice Ion treated her, she couldn’t reach the top willingly. She forced herself to lose major matches, and only won the minor ones. With her skill, she would have been #1 already, but she couldn’t. Not until she knew Ion’s true intentions. Her skill as a journalist would allow that information to be gained without fail. She knew how to gather intel. Problem is, Ion didn’t slip as much as she hoped. This would be difficult.

Ion confronts her about her suspicious losses over an exquisite dinner.

“You are losing on purpose.”

“You’re mistaken, Mr. Christine,” Nea refutes. “You know how well I- “

“You are losing on purpose, Nea,” he repeats himself strongly.

Being put on the spot so quickly shocks Nea, but nothing could prepare her for Ion’s next move. As they sit across each other, he stands and walks over to her, and cups her chin with gloved hands. He strokes it gently, mischievous grin on his face. Her cheeks flush as she freezes. Why does it feel good when Ion’s hand is on her face? Especially with those gloved hands of his. She had to catch herself from leaning into it like a cat. That damned grin of his, too. Was the reason she really wanted intel on him is because she was interested in him in more ways than one and she just didn’t realize it?

“You can’t lie to me,” he muses. “I know everything about you…”

“Do you really?” She weakly manages to get out.

“I do, my little journalist. Have you been trying to get intel on me? I’m quite flattered.”

Nea stood up, taking a step back from Ion. Whether in fright or curiosity or delight, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Unable to realize her steps, Nea’s back connects with the wall. She has effectively trapped herself and as Ion walks towards her slowly, his lavender eyes glowing, she knew there was nothing she could do. He licked his lips hungrily, making her freeze. The cold touch of his gloved hand cups her face once again, lifting it so their eyes met.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I have no intention of hurting you,” he reassures. “My intention… Is something that will grant you what you want. Something that you desire. Something that I desire and will be more than willing to give to you.”

What I want? More about him? That is all I wanted, yet it’s as if he’s insinuating that-

Ion is so close that she can feel his breath on her neck. It tingles, awakening something in her. His hands grasp her waist, making her legs wobble, and as she stares into those eyes, she realizes there is no going back from this. A loud gasp escapes her as she feels Ion’s soft lips on her neck, kissing softly.

“You—ah—is this what you really called me here for?”

“Mmm,” is the only response she gets from him.

Nea can’t lie to herself. It feels so good. She finds herself craving more. Ion knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t shy in the slightest. She openly moaned when she felt his tongue on her neck. The saliva barely missed the choker she always wore around her neck, however, in a bold move, she undoes it, placing it in her pocket and emitting a satisfied groan from him. Her neck exposed; wet kisses turn into demanding bites she knows will show on her skin later.

“Please, yes…” She gasped.

“Do you like that?” He mused. “Do you want more?”

“I-I do,” Nea responds hastily, pressing herself up against Ion. “I want—I want you.”

“Oh my,” he near moaned. “Just a moment ago, you were afraid, and now you do this…”

Nea grabs the collar of Ion’s shirt and crushes their lips together. She wanted to shut him and his little smug tone of his up, all the while feeling his soft lips again. He seemed to like her dominance, and began to fondle her, lowering his hands to grab her ass and squeeze it firmly. He revels in Nea’s muffled moan and the little jump she makes.

Ion is in a haze. He cannot handle himself and all sense of rationality has left him. Breaking the kiss, he grabs Nea’s hand and rushes to his suite, avoiding all who would want to speak with him. They were not important, none of them were. Not right now. What was important right now, was Nea. He needs to touch her, to take her as he saw fit. He acted with haste, closing the door and locking it behind him and immediately dragging her to his bed.

He nearly throws her down on said bed, and if Nea was scared, she sure as hell wasn’t showing it. The look on her face resembled desire more than it did fright. Her eyes followed his every move. Before he climbed on top of her, he undid his top, throwing it to the side without care. When Nea sees his bare chest, and her eyes widen and Ion can see her bite her lip almost immediately, the fire in his eyes intensifies. Crawling on top of her, he growled low, relishing in the excitement he felt coursing through his body. He presses himself against her, and she moans instantly.

“Look at that… You want it so bad. You’re such a wanton mess,” he mused. “I am going to fully make you mine. There won’t be a trace of you that is untouched by me.”

Ion grinned, wasting no time in undoing her clothes, with Nea even helping him to do so. All that was left was her bra and panties, which he would undo himself, slowly. Before that, he crushes his lips with hers again, moaning when he feels Nea’s tongue enter his mouth. She was so deliciously bold and he planned to reward her immensely when that time came. Nea rolled her hips, grinding against Ion. He bit her lower lip in satisfaction, making her gasp.

Breaking the kiss, his hands travel to her bra, squeezing her breasts hard. Nea shouts in joy, throwing her head back.

“Oh? Do you like it when it hurts a bit?”

Ion leans down, hands still fondling her breasts, but this time, his teeth sink into her neck. Nea’s eyes, widen, and her hands reach Ion’s hair to tug.

“Fuck, Ion…”

He chuckled, knowing just how wild he’s getting Nea. He enjoyed this. Seeing her squirm, hearing her moans. He was going to have her revel in pleasure. Moving from her neck, Ion reaches for the bra in his way and unhooks it from behind. Nea lifts herself up to help get it out of the way. Pushing her back down on her back, Ion proceeds to move his hands immediately back to her breasts, but this time he leans down to take her left nipple in his mouth, while his hand lowers to her panties to rub them. The stimulation seeps through her, enveloping her.

“More, Ion…!” She gasps.

“Patience…”

He flicks his tongue on her nipple, while his hand has long gone inside of her panties to tease her. Nea’s moans, moving her hips enthusiastically. Ion chuckled, looking at her intently.

“Be a good girl and keep your hips still, or I’ll stop.”

Nea whined, but did as she was told. Ion couldn’t stop himself now. He smirked at her, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders and taking his hands to rip off those delicate panties of hers. The desperation in Ion’s movements make her bite her lip.

“Please…”

Ion made no motion to move, instead, those beautiful lavender eyes look over her bare form, every inch seen by him. This causes Nea to avert her eye, flattered yet embarrassed as he stopped so suddenly to look her over. Nea is gorgeous in every way. Sinfully tempting, as if she would have led Ion to his demise at will. Such a sinfully tempting woman deserved everything she wished for. He takes his time as he leans down to place his lips on her groin, which elicits the reaction he desired. Nea shoots up instantly, moaning his name and tugging his hair in anticipation for what is to come.

His eyes never leave her for even so much as half a second as  he tastes her. With each slow lick—and Nea knows he’s avoiding her clit on purpose, the tease—she gasps, staring into those intense lavender eyes that did not move an inch. She knew she would be unable to form coherent sentences. Even if she wanted to beg for that stimulation that’d make her melt, she couldn’t.

Yet to her enjoyment, he understood.

Ion swirled his tongue around her clit, causing Nea to buck her hips. The small chuckle that sounded from him was not unheard. Ion took his hands and held her hips in place, which causes his hair to be tugged even tighter. He dared to give a long, drawn-out suck to her clit, relishing in the wetness that only increased as he stimulated her.

“More,” she begged. “Go faster…”

She heard his taunting chuckle again, and whined as he stopped. Her hands loosen in his hair and she stares, a bit of annoyance shown on her face. She was so close.

Ion pushed her back down on the bed, and reached to finally undo his own belt and dress pants. When Nea finally realized he was ready to take her, in full, she bit her lip, desperation showing on her face.

“I want you, all of you,” he confirmed. “And I will have you.”

“B-By all means…” Nea whispered.

Now that she had the chance to look at Ion completely bare, she realized her eyes did linger on Ion’s cock for far longer than it should have, as he was very well endowed. If Ion caught her staring, he didn’t say anything and she was thankful for that. Before Ion gets back on the bed, he goes for his bedside drawer to take out essentials. He is quick to take out a condom from it’s wrapper and place it carefully on his erection, and lube, to make the process easier and comfortable for Nea.

He’s back on the bed in an instant and immediately presses himself against her as a test. Nea groaned, looking at him with a clouded lust that needed to be sated in every way possible. She rocks her hips against his erection eagerly for a couple of seconds just to show him just how bad she wanted it.

“Come on, already…”

Having decided not to keep her waiting any longer, Ion chuckled as he pressed inside her slowly, making them both gasp. He does not move just yet, he knows Nea needs to be comfortable, so he waits. When Nea moves her hips with a quiet moan coming from her lips, Ion wastes no time in moving. He starts slow at first, but gradually increases in movement making Nea’s quiet moans turn to desperate and pleading gasps. Boldly, she leans up and wraps her arms around Ion, and he holds on to her hips, pounding deep inside of her. Nea crushes their lips together, forcing her tongue inside which surprises yet invigorates Ion. Her sudden display of dominance has him fucking her harder, skin slapping against skin.

With each movement, Nea felt herself getting closer and closer to climax. Then, she felt Ion hit her sweet spot, and she threw her head back and cried out, digging her nails into his skin. She would have no mercy. Ion went for her exposed neck, and sucked hard on the skin. He wanted to leave a mark, to let her remember who did this to her, who made her feel this pleasure. It only made Nea’s voice echo in the room.

“More!” She squealed. “H-Hurry!”

Ion was happy to oblige. Considering his sweat, and his increase in grunts as he thrust, he was close to the brink of pleasure. He hit that spot over and over, until Nea finally screamed, shivering as she rode out her orgasm. Ion, who wasn’t far behind, softly moaned her name as he came. He bit his lip, pulling out and taking the condom off to discard it in the trash.

He hears Nea plop down on the bed and grins.  He looks at her and she pouts immediately, giving him something that could be akin to a glare.

“I’m going to be sore, Christine.”

Joining her, he rolled his eyes playfully.

“You asked for it. Literally.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

For a moment, Nea wondered what the Hell she got herself into. Despite the playful mood, she did want to talk to Ion about what this would mean for them in the future, but couldn’t bring herself to even start a conversation. Ion, as if reading her mind, pulled her closer.

“We can talk in the morning, when our minds are clear.”

That would be acceptable. They could speak about their concerns, all of them, in the morning. For as long as they wanted, and without any interruptions. She smiled and snuggled into his chest.

“…Alright.”

They said nothing after that. They allowed each other’s soft breathing to lull them to a peaceful sleep.

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (17/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, thanks for reading, it’s real nice. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

She misses the jacket. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to miss, and far from the only thing, but Emma’s mind keeps drifting back to the jacket and the cut and how strange it is to keep thinking about the length of a goddamn leather jacket. 

Because, all things considered, they’ve got much bigger things to deal with. 

They’ve barely been back in Misthaven for two weeks and every day seems to bring some brand-new and increasingly difficult challenge because they’ve barely been back for two weeks but they were gone for years and people were left behind and King Arthur is, apparently, the biggest dick in a variety of different realms. 

The first news of an attack came, approximately, four hours after they left the throne room. 

Which, really, did not seem like enough time at all, but Emma figures the universe is just testing them all now and she can’t figure out how any of them are staying upright at this point. 

They all must be averaging four hours of sleep a night. 

Killian’s averaging, like, two.

She catches him, sometimes, staring out the window or the ceiling, wide eyes and slightly labored breathing, fingers tracing over her side like he’s trying to brand every inch of her. 

With him. 

Or something less dramatic.

But Emma gets nightmares too, clinging to sheets and Killian in equal measure until she has to apologize for the nail-shaped marks she leaves in his skin. 

He never seems to mind. 

And it’s not just Arthur. The problems come from every angle, a non-stop stream of political messes that have quickly turned to political fires. DunBroch has sent missives, demands to know what your intentions are now that you’ve returned, and Emma can’t really remember Ella and Thomas, but they’d sent an actual envoy who wanted an audience with her highness, an announcement that made Ruby cackle and Regina groan and there’d been a stack of signed papers in the man’s hands when he left. 

There were whispers out of Arendelle, Elsa leaving almost as soon as they returned, and Emma doesn’t even want to think about what Midas has done because she doesn’t want to think about that field and none of the people they’d left behind seem all that inclined to celebrate their return.

Because there aren’t borders anymore, so much as there are burned down tree lines and empty fields, houses with broken windows and empty beds, signs of a fight that was lost long ago and Emma’s magic will not stop. It is, she imagines, because she keeps teleporting them places, a flash of smoke and feet that land with practiced ease now, bouncing between the throne room in Misthaven and the council chambers in Camelot, David’s voice getting more and more exasperated each time they leave without an agreement. 

“You disappeared,” Arthur says, voice even and almost cool, as if cursing themselves is more than enough reason to launch a full-scale invasion. “And then even more people were gone. I’m afraid that left Misthaven ripe for the--” “--Oh my God, do not finish that sentence,” Emma grumbles. David can’t quite mask his laugh, lips tugged behind his teeth and eyes staring into the small bit of marble under his feet. 

Arthur’s castle, it appears, is entirely made of marble. 

She can hear Killian’s sharp inhale behind her, never more than a few feet away. Not that Emma is, particularly, opposed to that. 

Because it hasn’t even been two weeks since they’ve returned to Misthaven and things aren’t right and Arthur must have practiced that look of self-satisfied superiority at some point. 

Emma may break every mirror in his stupid, marble castle. 

And then shorten the length of Killian’s jacket. 

It’s not right. 

They’re not right. 

They’re walking on eggshells and tiptoeing around each other – because he knows she knows, a weird, convoluted sentence that’s probably a fairly good descriptor for their lives now and his fingers keep fluttering at his side, reaching for something that isn’t there anymore. 

He hates his new sword. 

She knows it. She knows he knows she knows it. 

Arthur is talking again. 

“I’m afraid being a ruler does, in fact, require said ruler to rule his kingdom.” Emma can hear David’s eye roll. “We have explained that,” he growls. “And, you know, not to belabor our point here, but not only are you invading a kingdom you were allied to--” “--No, no, no,” Arthur cuts in quickly, waving a quick hand through the air. Emma’s fingers curl around Killian’s hook. “That treaty is null and void when you disappear, your highness.” "That’s not how diplomacy works!” “David,” Emma chastises, but she tends to agree and if she’s been thinking about the length of leather jackets for nearly two weeks, then she’s been thinking about that scene on the farm outside of the town for just as long. The smoke still stings her nose every now and then, a rush of guilt and hint of pain, as if the loss had seared itself into her soul as well, making her whole body tremble and--

“You’ve got to breathe, love,” Killian mumbles. He turns slightly, not pulling his left arm away from her, but making it easier to rest his hand on her shoulder and maybe this is why Arthur is such a monumental dick. 

It’s easy to reject treaties from a group of anxious royals all dealing with various and specific forms of post traumatic stress disorder. 

Emma nods, jerky and less-than-impressive, particularly when she’s supposed to be some kind of ambassador, but one side of Killian’s mouth tugs up anyway. She wonders if she can get Regina to just...burn down a castle of marble. She wonders what the melting point of marble is. 

Arthur’s expression hasn’t changed. “Shall we rehash, your highness? It only seems to be upsetting you.” “Fucking hell,” David grumbles, drawing another less-than-appropriate laugh out of Emma. She lets her head fall forward, a quick movement that she hopes is Killian’s lips ghosting over the top of her hair. 

He definitely squeezes her shoulder. 

They are honestly all disaster royals. 

David takes a deep breath, running his hand over his face. Emma can see the exact moment he shifts, moving out of several negative emotions and diving directly into the deep end of determined and it, at least, makes Arthur’s eyebrows jump slightly. 

“Ok,” David starts. “We were gone. We aren’t gone anymore. Obviously.” “He should have practiced this more,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear. She has to bite her lip. 

“You want to rehash, your majesty?” David continues, and that question is almost dripping with sarcasm. Emma figures that’s fair. She lifts her head up. “Fine, we can rehash. We’ve been lied to. From the very start. All of us. Tricked by George and the Dark One and lulled into a prophecy that was misleading from the very beginning--” “--That can’t possibly be--” “Oh no, no,” David cuts in, a quick head shake. “No interruptions right now. The prophecy wasn’t wrong, but the explanation was. It twisted everything and made it impossible to do anything except our goddamn best, which is exactly what we did, Arthur. And we’re not looking for sympathy or pity or anything except for you to stop being a goddamn, fucking bastard and get out of our kingdom.”

Arthur’s eyebrows get higher. 

That’s the only response. 

Emma has no idea where to look. Her eyes flit from face to face and ostentatious marble tile to even more ridiculous marble wall decor, but, eventually, her gaze lands on Killian’s and that’s nice. That’s, almost, normal. 

None of this is normal. 

Gods, she misses real coffee too. 

“Had me right up until the end,” Killian murmurs, and Emma can’t help her laugh. It’s soft and, maybe, a little skeptical, like she’s not entirely sure if that’s the sound she’s supposed to be making. He definitely kisses her hair that time. 

She smiles, reaching up to tug lightly on the lapels of a jacket, she hopes, she could, maybe get used to. Again. Because it’s not new. None of this is, but it feels impossibly unfamiliar and just, generically, impossible and Emma really thought they were done with all the allusions to Camelot after she slayed the goddamn dragon. 

She really has no idea what happened to Rumplestilskin. 

“Oh shut up,” David groans, Killian scoffing and pulling Emma back to his side. Arthur’s face is going to get stuck like that. 

It’d serve him right. 

“What exactly is it you hope to get from this, your majesty?” Emma asks, fully anticipating the way Killian’s hand tightens around her shoulders and David’s lips quirk and Arthur is frozen. 

She lets her smile widen. 

“Anything? Because I quite figure it out. Why keep doing this when--” She twists her head, fluttering her fingers and the ball of light that appears there bounces in a rhythm that she’s actually almost impressed by. Emma doesn’t look at Killian. She doesn’t have to. 

He’s totally smiling. 

Until. 

“It’s exactly because of that,” Arthur says, low and still frustratingly even, as if the conversation hasn’t caused him any emotional distress at all. There’s something, though. Something that wasn’t there a moment before. And it’s not fear. Or pity. Or anything except--

“You’re defending yourself,” Emma breathes, understanding rushing through her and making her magic surge. Killian’s hand turns into a vice. 

She can’t quite hide her hiss of pain, another sound Emma regrets as as soon as she makes it. And she doesn’t know enough words to describe the look that lands on Killian’s face when he’s realized what he’s done, something almost akin to shattering settling on his features, making Emma’s chest ache and her magic sputter and David coughs pointedly. 

Like that will make this more diplomatic. 

“What could you be protecting yourself from?” David presses. His hand lands on his sword hilt, a belt Emma doesn’t think he’s taken off since they got back. 

Arthur actually has the gall to look surprised. “What? No, no, no, it’s not a what, your highness. It’s a who.” “We’re not a threat to you, Arthur,” Emma sneers. Her magic is back. Loud. And disorienting. It makes her vision go blurry and her breath hitch, parted lips and, what she hopes, is the world’s most potent glare on her face. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” “That’s ridiculous! It’s--I mean, it’s shit, isn’t?” She gapes at David, his lips twisted into a near-agreement and almost-condemnation because they are so bad at this and Emma didn’t expect it to be so difficult to figure out how to put the pieces of their lives back together. 

She’s really annoyed by her mind’s continued use of puzzle metaphors. 

“We defeated the darkness,” Emma continues, taking a step forward. Or, at least, trying. Killian doesn’t let go of her shoulder, a quick flinch and rock forward and that’s been happening too. 

He doesn’t like her not being there. 

Arthur clicks his tongue, another expression Emma resents. He slumps slightly in his throne, more than a few jewels in the back and his own sword strapped to his side. It’s not Excalibur. There is no Excalibur. 

Not anymore. 

Gods, that’s so strange. 

“So you claim,” Arthur says, eyes going thin and gaze turning penetrating. “But the prince is right. No matter what George had been doing or working for, he did bring you all together. Magic. Power. And--” He nods in Killian’s direction, the muscles in his throat shifting when he swallows. “That.” Emma has no explanation for what her body does. It doesn’t feel particularly human or comfortable, like a rather large slab of wood had been pressed to her and forced her to realign her spine. 

Or she’s been placed between two marble slabs. 

Everything feels heavy, like the air itself is reacting and it only takes Emma a moment to realize...it might be. Her magic flares, a burst of light from the tips of her fingers and another orb lingering around the shoulder Killian’s still got his fingers on and she tries to count. 

“Three in, five out, three in, five out,” Emma mumbles, a bit of her light reflecting off the sword David’s half-drawn. 

“Try six out, love.” She can’t actually bring herself to glare at Killian – not when the bags under his eyes are so obvious and the jacket doesn’t look right and they’ve got to find him another sword, but Emma looks and his smile is forced. 

Like he’s in pain too. 

“God, that’s so long,” Emma mutters. “Who could exhale for that long?” “It might work.” “I really think that’s impossible.” Killian’s smile shifts, still not perfect, but definitely getting there and Emma does, in fact, breathe a bit easier when his hook falls to her hip. She turns back to Arthur. “What did you mean? Exactly?” “Was that not obvious?” “Let’s not go in circles, your majesty,” Emma hisses. “You’re right. And so was David. We were gone. And we’re not going to shirk blame for any of the things we’ve done. We are here to accept them and fix them and help rebuild this kingdom. We’re not looking to take over anything. That’s--fuck, that is honestly the last thing we want. We don’t need anymore responsibility than we already have.” “Not helping,” David murmurs. 

Emma flips him off. They are a picture of mature, royal, responsibility. “I really could not care less,” Emma promises. “You attacked us, Arthur. Everyone did. We--ok, you’re scared of our magic? Fine. What do I need to do to fix that?” He doesn’t answer immediately, which is only kind of annoying, but Emma expects just about everything to be annoying at this point and--

“What about him?” That is not the answer Emma thinks she’s going to get. Because it’s not an answer. It’s a question. And one directed at Killian. 

He stiffens next to her, tongue darting between his lips when he rocks his weight between his heels. “What about me?”

“You’re quite the enigma aren’t you, Captain?” Arthur drawls, the calm forced now. A muscle in his temple keeps jumping. “We’ve heard the rumors. Of you. What you’ve done. And then, well of course, what you couldn’t own up to doing. Are they true?” “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” “You know. Camelot is landlocked. Not often we hear things from other realms separated by a sea, but--every now and then, there’s some news and a few murmurs and the man was very talkative once he got a few ales in him. And a slightly heavier pocket.” Killian tilts his head, and Emma isn’t sure if the thump she hears is her heart or his. The jacket, suddenly, looks a little more menacing, fluttering at his ankles when he takes a step forward, the light of her magic bouncing off the curve of his hook and his fingers drifting towards his sword. 

Arthur presses his lips together. 

“A name, your majesty.” “No, no, no, I also know how diplomacy works, pirate,” Arthur says. “And I know I’ve got leverage now. The question is, do you? And was the man speaking the truth?” “Babe,” Emma mutters. Killian freezes. “What is he talking about?”

“I don’t know.” She makes a contrary noise in the back of her throat, more wrong that they probably should have discussed before, but there hasn’t been time and Emma just wants some time. She wants quiet. And peace. 

She wants her heart to calm the fuck down. 

Killian glances at her, a smirk and a flash in his eyes because he probably can’t hear her heart, but it would almost make sense at this point. Her magic, on the other hand. “That bad, huh?” “Worse,” Emma promises.

He chuckles, a loud exhale when he pulls his hand away from his sword. “He thinks I’ve still got magic,” Killian says, and Arthur nearly falls out of his throne. 

That would have been funny. It probably shouldn’t be. 

David’s eyes bug, lips parting with a pop and he’s got his sword out. Diplomacy, it seems, has been cast to the wayside. “What?” he balks. “How--how would he even know? I thought you said no one knew.” “Rumplestilskin did,” Killian shrugs. “And he didn’t leave this realm right after I did. I was in New York for years too.” “Abandoning your kingdom,” Arthur adds, scoffing when Emma mumbles seriously, shut the fuck up under her breath. 

It is not really under her breath. 

“He didn’t want people to know he’d lost his magic, but…” Killian trails off, another head tilt and look cast Emma’s direction. “I’m sure for the right price or the right deal, it would have been worth it. To know what I’d done. Or where Emma was.” “And did this man know that?” David looks at Arthur when he asks, all fury and magic and the throne wobbles precariously on its perch. 

Arthur shakes his head. “I don't have to answer that.” “How long ago was this?” Emma asks, something tugging at the back of her mind. It’s not an idea, not really, isn’t more than a passing thought or half a consideration, but Killian had to get a magic bean somehow and--”What did he look like?” “At least a year ago.” “That’s only half the answer.” “Yes, it is.” Emma groans, throwing her head back with the force of the noise. Arthur’s throne stops moving. So does he. He tries, makes several gallant attempts to twist and turn, but there are invisible bounds around him and she’s definitely getting better at that. 

She didn’t even have to move her hand. 

“Oh, that was good, Swan,” Killian says, almost sounding genuine. There’s still a bit of perspiration at his temple though, a tiny pinch between his brows. He’s not telling her something. “Brag to Regina about that later because--”

“Is that a threat, Savior?” Arthur asks. 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Are you serious?” “I wouldn’t ask otherwise.” “Well, that’s stupid,” Emma says bluntly, David snickering next to her and she can almost feel Killian’s pride push out of him. “Get your knights out of our kingdom, Arthur. It’s not yours. It never was.” “Or what?” “Damnit,” David breathes. 

Emma smile stretches the muscles in her face, wholly uncomfortable until there’s a press of metal into the small of her back. She leans into it. “We just want to come home, Arthur. That’s all. We aren’t trying to conquer anything. There’s not magic. There’s no warning. It’s just us and--” “I want to know the Dark One is gone,” Arthur cuts in sharply. It catches Emma off guard, which is far less impressive than the other magic she’d just done, because this makes her current magic sputter and waver and it’s more than enough time for Arthur to break free of his bonds. His feet slam onto the marble when he jumps up, all chain mail and an actual cloak and the door behind him swings open to let in several heavily armored knights. 

Emma sighs. 

“That’s just unnecessary,” Killian mumbles. 

She doesn’t think. She twists and turns, presses up on her toes and brushes a kiss to his cheek, more stubble and exhaustion she can practically taste. “I love you.” He doesn’t exhale. Not quite. There are knights moving towards them too quickly for that, swords drawn and pointed directly at his chest. David is grumbling curses, bobbing on the balls of his feet with magic percolating around him and Emma can hardly see past the glare around her. 

It’s her. She’s the glare. Of the magical, variety. 

And they probably should have been better prepared for this. 

But part of her was hopeful and maybe even a little optimistic that they could just fall back into something and normal and--

“So much for signing that treaty now,” Emma mutters. She pushes her hands towards the floor, the surge of power moving from her head to her heels. It’s as if she’s being jumpstarted, the force of it almost enjoyable, if not a little distracting because it really is difficult to see when she’s glowing as much as she is. 

She does hear Arthur’s throne tip over though, so that’s kind of satisfying. 

And it all goes a little pear-shaped after that. 

The knights advance, Arthur shouting commands like he’s actually going to get off the dais and use his stupid sword. David twists his blade in his hands, bending his knees slightly. “Oh, Gods, remind me to make fun of him for that later,” Killian mutters, mirroring Emma’s moves and turning so his back is pressed against hers. 

Covering her six, as it were. 

Or, whatever. 

She needs to stop mixing up idioms from different realms. 

“I can hear you,” David calls, metal clanging on metal. He grunts, far more exercise than they’d anticipated on what may be their fifteenth trip to Camelot at this point. 

Emma is genuinely surprised this is the first time it’s broken down like this. 

She can feel Killian shifting against her, the push of his shoulder blades into her and the edges of that stupid, ridiculous, far too long coat brushing against the back of her calves. She may lean back. She may be exceptionally greedy. 

And only a little worried. 

About a never-ending myriad of things, but mostly him and them and she wants. That’s it, really. She wants. Them and collective pronouns and for it all to be over already, for the rest of everything to begin and she wouldn’t be opposed to more than a few dates. 

Possibly on a pirate ship. 

“That was the point,” Killian says, a smile obvious in the words. He has to lunge to parry a blow from one of the knights, laughter ringing out like this is fun but Emma’s eyes flicker to Arthur when he, finally, moves, sword raised and fear obvious in his gaze. 

He’s terrified. 

Everyone might be terrified. Of them. 

And their magic. 

And what Killian had done. 

Even without the specifics. Or the rumors of an inebriated, suddenly rich man who found his way to Camelot and started talking. 

She lifts her hand on instinct and the possibility of what could be, that same bit of hope and unusual optimism, a burst of power from her palm and it’s just enough to leave Arthur staggering mid-step. 

“We’re not a threat, Arthur,” Emma says again, only marginally confident he’ll believe her. He doesn’t. She knows it as soon as she closes her mouth. “To you, or anyone. This entire realm. We just--” “Prove he doesn’t have magic! That he’s not what that pirate said he was.” “I’m sorry, what?” Arthur pales, another exaggerated swallow. Emma’s head snaps towards Killian, every inch of her still vibrating with magic and questions, but the knights, apparently, don’t need to wait for orders and his arm flies through the air, the sound of his hook smashing the visor of the man in front of him echoing off the walls. 

Arthur is going to be transparent soon. 

“Fine,” Killian sighs, shaking his hair away from his eyes and his sleeve away from his hook and Emma barely has time to gasp before he does it. He sheaths his sword, a soft whoosh and quick roll of his shoulders and he hardly makes a noise when the point of his hook pierces the skin of his forearm. 

Emma does. Loudly. So does David. 

Killian will probably make fun of them for that. 

“See,” he says, staring straight at Arthur and his suddenly very wobbly knees. He lifts his arm, drops of blood sliding down skin and threatening to stain the shirt underneath it. “Wouldn’t really work if I was still the Dark One, would it?”

Arthur doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. 

Killian does all three. 

“So, you can report back to your little contingent, your majesty because, let’s be honest with ourselves here, you’re leading the charge of the other kingdoms aren’t you?”

That gets Arthur to, at least, blink. 

Emma needs to stop gasping. “Oh, shit,” she mutters, working a soft laugh out of Killian. “You think so?” “It’s an educated guess, at least.” “But--” David argues. “That’s...oh, Gods, that makes so much sense. Was it---was there some kind of agreement, Arthur?” Nothing. Silence. Stretching on for what feels like forever and then an extra day because Arthur really is an enormous dick, but then there’s the clack of boots and a sword scraping across marble when a knight pulls it off the floor and Emma’s reactions are getting very good. 

So are Killian’s. 

His arm is barely more than a blur, but there’s a look on his face that makes Emma’s pulse still for a moment, quiet fury and absolute hatred and he’s half a step in front of her before she realizes what’s happened. 

“Don’t come near her again,” he bites out. 

The sword clatters back to the ground. 

“You know,” David drawls, “maybe we weren’t the ones who were such garbage at diplomacy. It seems kind of stupid, Arthur. This plan of yours. What was it, then? We disappear, half of Misthaven is gone, and you...what? Decide that you’re the best option for overlord of the realm?” “The once and future king,” Emma intones. Killian’s arm is still bleeding. 

“Sounds better in the book.” Arthur makes a face of confusion. “What in all hells are you talking about?” “Just one hell, really,” Killian amends. “And not even that. The Underworld. If you want to get technical.” “Are you kidding me?” Emma asks, but he just shrugs and smirks and the look is right again. It’s hers again. 

“It’s important to be accurate when dealing with diplomacy, Swan.” “Oh my God.” He flashes her another grin, a quick twist of eyebrows that make her mind race and her pulse race and her magic is even more visible, a pulse of light and glimmer of energy that makes the air around them noticeably warmer. 

Emma huffs, but she’s not so much frustrated as she is--every other human emotion. She reaches her hand up slowly, light lingering between her fingers to brush away the hair matted to Killian’s forehead. 

He closes his eyes. 

“Take your knights out of our kingdom, Arthur,” she says, not bothering to look at the king or where, exactly, he’s standing. She hopes he fell over. “Tell the other kingdoms too. We’re not doing anything except coming home.” “And, maybe trading a bit,” David adds. 

“Seriously?” He hums when she glares at him. “Diplomacy or whatever.” “Aye, whatever sounds about right, doesn’t it?” Killian mutters. He hasn’t opened his eyes, head falling forward just enough that his forehead rests against Emma’s. 

She hopes he isn’t still bleeding.

“Arthur,” she continues, a quick kiss to the scar on Killian’s cheek before she turns slightly. “Do we have an agreement? Accord? What do you think works better?” Killian inhales, head falling even more so he can nuzzle slightly at her neck and that’s probably breaking every rule, but Emma...doesn’t care. Really. “They both sound fairly royal, Swan.” “I like accord better.” “More official,” David muses, Killian making a noise of agreement. 

“Fine, fine,” Emma says quickly. “I want your word right now, Arthur. Take the knights out of Misthaven. No more attacks. No more burning farms and destroying homes. It’s not going to make anyone want your rule anymore. They’ll just think you’re the world’s biggest dick.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re mixing colloquialisms again, love,” Killian laughs. Emma relishes it. 

She scoffs, letting her fingers find their way back to the front of his jacket so she can tug lightly on the leather that does and doesn’t make sense. Like everything. She’s going to teleport them straight back to her room, get him out of that jacket, make sure he isn’t bleeding anymore and then kiss him until he can’t remember the word colloquialism. 

“You can’t just return here and expect everything to be the way that it was,” Arthur says, sounding like he’s warning them of something. 

“That’s kind of the point.” “What?” “Sodding idiot,” Killian mutters, fingers seemingly moving of their own accord. David cannot sound disappointed enough. “Ok, yes, thank you,” he sighs. “But, also--well, you are a complete and utter ass, Arthur. And we are--” “--Done with diplomacy?” Emma suggests. 

“Well, yeah.” “What pushed you in that direction, do you think, your highness?” Killian asks, rife with sarcasm. David shakes his head. “The insane king, the knights who, honestly, seem to be acting out of turn or--”

“--You,” David cuts in, and Arthur makes a noise between a gasp and a groan. “And not wanting to see what you’d do if those same knights, who--honestly, control your men Arthur...but, well, you might not have magic anymore, but I can only imagine what you’d do if someone threatened Emma. Or vice versa.” “That’s awfully melodramatic, don’t you think?” David shakes his head. “Nope. Threaten the knight guy one more time with your legitimately terrifying threatening face.” “Legitimately terrifying threatening face,” Emma echoes slowly. 

“You got a better name for it?” “I mean--I don’t think it’s terrifying.” “Oh, no,” David groans. “You’re attracted to the face aren’t you?” Emma blushes, entirely mistimed and likely doing damage to their ability to draft a reasonable treaty that will benefit both kingdoms and ensure Camelot stops trying to actively screw them over, but she can feel Killian’s eyes on the side of her head and--

“I mean…”

Killian laughs, the sound settling in between tension-filled muscles and bones that are heavy with a lack of consistent REM sleep and Emma’s almost thankful for the curse because now she knows what REM sleep is and how important it is to a restful night. 

“I love you too,” Killian says, spinning Emma back towards him so he can brush the back of his knuckles over her jaw and let his fingers fall through the ends of her hair. “Missed that part before. When I was making the attractive faces.” “You’re doing that smug thing again.” “And plan on doing it as long as you do, love.” Emma rolls her eyes, but she’s charmed and almost calm and still decidedly magical. “Pirate,” she accuses. It’s not really an insult. 

He smirks at her. 

“Alright, well,” David starts, dragging out the words until his discomfort is practically vibrating out of him. “So, uh...we want to, you know, keep the kingdom from being burned down or you guys want to keep staring longingly at each other?” “Do you not think we’re capable of doing both?” Emma asks. 

And that laugh, oh, that one. It’s loud and easy and it flies out of Killian, lands directly in the middle of Emma and warms her from the inside out, a glow and a want and the start of everything she’s been waiting for. 

Her mind is still hanging onto that feeling, though. She wonders. And has questions. And she’s going to get answers. 

Probably after the kissing. 

And definitely after she makes sure his arm is alright. 

“Call back your knights,” Emma says, doing her best to sound official. “Tell DunBroch that we are interested in a peaceful resolution to this. Get used to the fact that Misthaven has magic. But magic that we are--” She glances at David, the ends of his mouth already tugging up into a smile and he gives her a quick nod. “We are more than willing to help with that magic,” Emma continues, “whenever we can, however we can. This is...this isn’t George’s kingdom anymore. No secrets. No murmurs. No rumors of darkness.”

“The darkness is gone. And now there’s the chance to start over. To fix it and try again, to make it better than it was before.”

Arthur stares at her for a moment, Emma’s heart sputtering erratically behind her ribs. She reaches her hand back on instinct. 

And the metal she touches is cool against her fingers. 

“What if I don’t agree?” Arthur asks, drawing several pointed curses out of all three of them. Most of Killian’s are not in English. 

“What more could you want?” he demands. “We’ve given you everything you’ve asked for and--” “You’re worried about the Darkness?” Emma interrupts, Arthur nodding quickly. “There is no Darkness anymore. Because I killed it. I--” Her voice shakes, tears clouding her vision and grip going tight enough that her knuckles crack. “It’s gone, Arthur. But let me tell you something, you’re harping on something that doesn’t exist anymore and you’ve overlooked one very important thing.” “Which is?”

“Me. You keep doing this, destroying families and coming after our kingdom, I won’t think. I'll do what I have to do to save them. All of them. Because the Darkness was bad, but guess who destroyed the Darkness?”

She holds her hand out, David’s fingers curling around her wrist and her nails dig into her palm where its wrapped around Killian’s hook, eyes falling closed as the magic roars in her ears. 

They don’t land in her room. 

That’s probably for the best with David with them. 

Until. 

As per usual. 

The book flies at them, a flap of pages the only warning before Emma’s hands are moving and she’s got less control, in that moment, than she did when she was seven and freezing. 

The book disappears.

“Oh damn,” she mumbles, Killian crowding into her space with his sword brandished in front of them. “Shit, don’t tell Regina about that one. That wasn’t as impressive.” He must smile because Emma is fairly certain she can feel it through her hair when he ducks his head to kiss her temple, but she doesn’t have much time to focus on that because Will is groaning and Belle is apologizing, presumably for throwing a book at them and--

“What are you two doing in here?” David asks, glancing around the room that is, quite obviously, the library. On the direct opposite side of the castle from Emma’s room. 

She clicks her tongue. “Seriously, that did not work the way I wanted it to at all.”

“Do you want the real answer or the answer we’d rather give you?” Will asks. He’s got his feet propped up on the edge of the table in front of him, balancing on the back two legs of the chair he’s sitting in. 

Emma waves her hands again. So he doesn’t fall over. 

Top notch Savior, doing top notch saving-type things. 

Will grins. “Thanks. For that, I’ll give you the real answer, even though it’s embarrassing--” “--We’re hiding from Regina,” Belle cuts in, Emma’s eyes widening and she’s glad she did the chair thing. Will rolls his whole head when he groans. “She is currently, upstairs, throwing fire balls at inanimate objects because that person from--does Rapunzel’s kingdom actually have a name? I just keep thinking of the movies.” 

“Seriously, you can’t keep ruining the punchlines to these jokes if you’re just going to present facts to the sovereigns--”

The door swings open again, more footsteps and more groans and there is not enough room for all of them in this rather limited amount of space. 

“Goddamn, idiotic, pedantic...jerks,” Mary Margaret grumbles, Ruby half a step behind her and barely containing her laugh. Her smile, however, is a different story, wide and only a little mocking and a hint wolfish and David reaches to draw his sword. 

“What are you possibly trying to accomplish with that?” Emma asks. “And, honestly, babe, you can put yours away too.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Will asks, and Ruby immediately starts to cackle. 

Mary Margaret doesn’t seem to notice any of them. “Grew up in a goddamn forest, light a stupid candle, idiots.” “M”s,” Emma wavers, pushing lightly on the hilt of Killian’s sword. He kisses her again before he, finally, sheathes it. It makes that noise again. “What are you saying right now? And why are you guys in here too?” “Oh, this is our meeting place,” Ruby says, as if it’s obvious. 

“For?” “Whining,” Will answers. “Grousing. What’s another word for this, babe?” Belle twists her lips, tilting her head back and forth in thought. “Bemoaning. Lamenting. Bellyaching, but that one is more slang than anything else.”

“Shouldn’t count then,” Killian mutters. “Yeah, well, you haven’t been here, so…” “Although we’re not opposed to you being here,” Mary Margaret adds, a quick return to the conversation that comes with only minimal sighing. “And sorry, for all the--” She waves her hands dramatically, shaking her hair off her shoulders. “We got a call from some of the dwarves, you know the ones who live over by the DunBroch border and they thought they were being attacked, but it was--” “--A rather large infestation of rabbits,” Ruby mumbles.

Emma’s eyes bug without her explicit permission. “Oh my God.” “Yeah, those were basically our thoughts too.” “But,” Mary Margaret adds, “then the whole thing dissolved into a criticism of our ruling tendencies, my inability to provide electricity and some rather pointed suggestions that we were doing a fairly bad job of...what was the world they used, Rubes?” 

“Transitioning.”

“Oh, yeah, I hated that, honestly.”

Emma’s sigh falls out of her, all disappointment and wobbly knees and the certainty that she’s missing something. Big. “There’s got to be some kind of balance, right?”

She isn’t really waiting for an answer, was more asking the question rhetorically, but the rather resounding silence she gets is, admittedly, a little disappointing. She sighs again. “What I’m saying is...I mean, at the risk of giving Arthur any credit at all--” “--Oh, yeah, yeah, what happened with Arthur?” Ruby asks, a smile when Emma rolls her eyes at the interruption. “You weren’t trying to get to this room were you?” “Shut up.” “Ah, that might be an answer.” “I think we almost saved the whole thing, really,” David says, only sort of sounding like he’s lying. Ruby lifts her eyebrows.

“Killian,” Mary Margaret says, crouching lightly to push up the sleeve of his jacket. There’s red staining the fabric of his shirt. “Were you bleeding?” “The past tense there is important,” he mutters. Will may gag. “And I’m fine. It’s..it’s fine.” “Once more with feeling, Captain,” Belle says, one eyebrow arched and her lips twisted into complete disbelief. 

“Arthur is terrified of Emma. We’re all saved.” “That only sounded kind of bitter,” Emma mumbles, but she never actually let go of his hook and the ring around her neck has fallen over the front of her dress. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that, Arthur is a dick, but we’re fairly positive we can get him to call off the attacks and he did bring up a good point.” David hums in confusion. “When? Before or after the knights attacked us?”

That gets a response – mostly just shouts of varying volume and slightly bugged eyes, and Killian’s tongue moves back between his lips, pressing to the corner of his mouth with an almost obvious impatience. 

“Can I make my point, please?” Emma cries, close to pleading. Killian rests his head on top of hers, a deep breath that shudders through him and they’re a mess of wholly uncomfortable limbs, but it’s also kind of grounding and they never did much understand the concept of personal space. 

It’s probably a magic thing. 

“Your highness,” he mutters. She resists the urge to elbow him. That’s less romantic than the magic thing. 

“We’re all fucked aren’t we?” “This is not your best work, Em,” Ruby admits, dropping onto the edge of Belle’s seat. 

“You’re being impatient, that’s why. I’m--ok, well, we didn’t know who we were, but we were still us then, right?” “When we were cursed?” Mary Margaret asks. 

Emma nods. “Yeah, exactly. What I’m saying is those people were us. Same personalities, for the most part, and I mean--we lived those lives. Those memories happened, even if the stuff before we got to Storybrooke was skewed. I hate to say it, but Arthur, and maybe even these dwarves are right. We’ve been trying to just settle back into what we were before the curse, but that was all George too and--” “--There’s got to be a balance, for us to be both, all at the same time,” David whispers, repeating her words and interrupting her speech and, for the first time, Emma doesn’t mind. 

Much. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “We lived that. We miss electricity. And good coffee. Gods, we miss good coffee.” There are a few quiet laughs and murmured agreements, another kiss to her temple as Killian’s hand, somehow, finds its way to her hip. So he can squeeze it lightly. “We’ve got people we totally screwed who are going to hate us. But I wasn’t lying before. This is a chance for us. To do better. To...to start over, with the magic and the--”

“--Oh say True Love, say it,” Will laughs. 

Emma clicks her tongue. His smile widens. “You’re no help at all. And I--if I ask you if you’re doing alright, based mostly on your defense techniques are you going to give me some snarky comment in response.” “Yes, absolutely.” “And,” Belle adds, shifting so she has to sling her arm around Ruby’s shoulders to make sure they don’t both fall on the floor, “that was mostly instinct. Regina did offer to get us weapons.” “Ten thousand doubloons she didn’t want to chance offending the books with steel,” Killian says, some of the anxious energy in the air disappearing. 

It makes it easier to breathe. 

Emma still wants to know about the pirate in Camelot. And what he knew. 

“What do you think the conversion of doubloons to dollars is?” Mary Margaret asks. “Like ballpark it for me.” “I’ll have to get back to you on that, your highness.” “Yeah, that’s too much math for now.” Emma laughs, an ease to it that’s nearly comforting. More so when she curls herself into Killian’s side, cheek pressed against leather. “This isn’t going to be easy, but--” “--It’s a chance to start over,” David finishes. “For the better.” “Exactly. And maybe someone can tell me what happened to Rumplestilskin.” Will blinks. “Do you not know?” “No,” Killian says, soft, but with a fierceness that’s more memory and more past mistakes and--

“I punched him,” Belle answers. “Several times. And then, um...after--well, you know after--” She shakes her head, not bothering to brush away the tears on her cheeks. “It was bad and Ruby was trying to take care of Emma and, well...you know, he tried to run, probably go find some of the people he brought with him or Isaac. Where is Isaac?” “We have too many enemies,” Ruby says.

David glares at her. “In a cell without a key. Keep going Belle.”

“Right, right,” she stammers. “Well, we had some time, after. And so we got him up and there was still magic on him. He couldn’t really move and he was--he realized he’d lost, I think, rather quickly and it was pretty easy after that. There were police eventually. A huge thing like that, there had to be some kind of explanation and we didn’t really give it to them, but we told them that we saw him outside Grand Central around that time...raving and shouting and that was pretty much true and uh--” Belle clicks her teeth, grimacing slightly. “--We got a call that he was going to be indicted on criminal mischief, which seems really low, but…”

She doesn’t finish. And Emma can barely keep her footing when Killian moves, but then there are more limbs in their pretzel and he’s mumbling against Belle’s hair, quiet thanks and even softer promises and she sniffles very loudly. 

“We left before they could ask us to testify or anything stupid official like that.” “Stupid official, huh?” Killian asks. 

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“So, we’ll take, like, several million doubloons,” Will grins “However that converts.” Killian laughs, pulling back with Emma still pinned against his side. “There are taverns here, you know.” “Are you trying to get me a job?” “At least make you productive.” “Ah, that’s probably fair. Don’t try and get Belle out of this library though. She’s totally geeking out about some of these maps.” “I told you that in confidence,” Belle cries, but Will shrugs and Emma starts to let herself hope again. Maybe this will be alright. Maybe this will be the new normal. 

“Yeah, well, stop blowing my jokes up and then we’ll talk.”

Regina finds them eventually – “It wasn’t really that bad, you didn’t have to run down here.” “You set the curtains on fire, Regina.” – more discussions of Camelot and treaties and maybe meeting with some of the non-magical folk who didn’t make either trip to the Land Without Magic. And it’s good. Great, even. Productive and positive and some other word with a similar start, but Emma’s whole body feels like it’s sagging by the time she crawls into bed. 

She doesn’t want to fall asleep, but Killian is still going over maps and boundary lines and David had several ideas about possible trade routes and her eyes must close, because they snap open when the door does, moonlight streaming through her window and his coat is a soft thud on the back of the chair when he shrugs out of it. 

“Go back to sleep, love,” Killian says, moving towards the bed and his lips quirk when she tries to shake her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “Yeah, but I think you’re kind of into it.” “That’s very true.” “Oh, very, huh?” “Incredibly? Intensely? Incessantly?” “Those last two don’t seem very positive,” Emma points out, propping her head on her hand. She shifts back, giving him a few inches on the far too large bed and it only takes a moment for him to get out of his boots and next to her, barely any space between them. Emma should, really, start thinking more, but it’s been a day and nearly two weeks and several years and she flips on her back with something that may be instinct, letting Killian curl against her with his head on her stomach and her fingers in his hair. 

His breath is warm against her skin when he exhales. 

“I would have done it,” he says eventually, voice snapping through the silence of the room. Emma doesn’t stop her fingers. She knows what he’s talking about. “Arthur, I mean. And his knights. Whatever--any of it. I would have--” He moves his arm, wrapping it around her middle, like he’s trying to keep her there or make sure he stays there, the specifics not important. “I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought.” “That’s probably not supposed to be romantic, huh?” Killian barks out a noise that is likely supposed to be a laugh, a kiss pressed to the top of Emma’s thigh because she’d never actually pulled the blankets up. “No, probably not.” “Weird.” “Aye, the weirdest.” “You want to tell me the truth now?” He tilts his head up, blue eyes and a stare that Emma has always been sure can read her mind and know her thoughts and neither one of those things should be particularly romantic either. And yet here they are. 

There are goosebumps on the back of his neck. 

“About?” “Oh, don’t play coy, Lieutenant, it’s not cute,” Emma mutters. “A pirate in Camelot? Talking about your magic. What would you have needed with another pirate?” Killian hisses in a breath, a look that isn’t quite nervous, but might be a hint apprehensive, as if he’s worried about Emma’s reaction. “You knew him, actually,” he whispers. “He’d only remember your reputation. You made sure of that.” It takes her, approximately, five and a half seconds to realize. 

“Teach? Edward Teach?” “One and the same.” “A pirate? Seriously?” “Seriously,” Killian repeats. “Rather notorious one, in fact. I believe he left the occupation of ruining young boys’ lives a few years after I got my commission. Liam and I had heard tell of him, although I didn’t realize who he was at first. Changed his name, you see.” “You’re dragging this out on purpose.” “I’m trying to keep my audience rapt.” “Did you miss the part where I’m pretty into your face? Because I feel like that’s enough to get me to keep listening.” “Simply content to stare then, ma’am?” He does something ridiculous with his eyebrows when he says it, the tip of his tongue wholly distracting pressed to the inside of his cheek. Emma can actually feel herself blush. She kind of wishes she’d pulled the blankets up.

She feels more than a little exposed. 

“What did you need Edward Teach for?” Killian swallows. “Because,” he says slowly, dragging the words against the curve of Emma’s hip and the top of her thigh and it’s another attempt at distraction that would probably work if she weren’t so goddamn stubborn. “Edward Teach became Blackbeard and Blackbeard stole a magic bean from a giant.” Emma tenses. Her whole body goes taut, far too many thoughts and even more feelings, a spark of magic and flush of how ridiculously attracted she is to his face and the feel of him next to her and she wants, wants, wants. She--

“There’s more to this,” Emma mutters, another quasi accusation. 

“Aye, there is. But it’s not important.” “Nope, try again.” “Swan.” “Killian.” He sighs, not put-upon, but mostly disappointed, hooded eyes when he glances up at her. Emma lifts her brows. And exhales for six seconds straight. “I, uh---I couldn’t find anything to get to you, Swan. I knew where you were and--” “--How?” “Hmmm?” “How did you know?” Emma asks. “You said you found out. Before. But...how?” “A mermaid.” Emma blinks. She opens her mouth. And blinks again. There are noises coming out of her, but they’re not quite words and Killian’s expression is equal parts obnoxious and a little repentant. “That’s an entirely different and far too long story,” he says. “But, the short of it is that mermaids can travel between realms. That’s--the magic is incredible, Swan. I was always trying to get back, even if the Darkness didn’t want me to, but then--well, I found out what Rumplestiltskin was going to do and--” He shrugs, far too self deprecating and maybe a little self loathing and Emma can’t kiss him. That’s disappointing. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone, Swan. Didn't know how to get there, but...Ariel, well she could. Without a curse or a bean or a bloody magic hat. She found you. Or, well, the idea of you. She found a town near the coast with more magic than she’d seen in one place in years. And I knew. That was you. But I couldn’t get there with her.” “No gills, huh?” Emma jokes. It doesn’t land. She didn’t expect it to. Killian shakes his head. “Not quite. So we started looking for other options and, eventually, that led us to Blackbeard.” “And you...what? Took the bean from him? Was there--I mean, did you...magic?” “No.” Emma has no right to be annoyed. She knows. She knows he hasn’t been sleeping and there are mermaids involved in this now, more magic and memories she wasn’t a part of and she wants to fix it. She wants to--

“Holy shit,” she breathes, Killian kissing the first patch of skin his lips land on. Her whole body shakes underneath him. 

The room is spinning. 

“Killian, how did you get a magic bean from Edward Teach?” “It was relatively easy, actually,” he says, and she’d almost believe that if it weren’t for the muscle in his jaw that jumps on every other letter. “Teach was always a greedy bastard. And he thought the bean was dead anyway, no chance of revival, but--” “--How?” He smiles at her. His eyes are glossy. “More than willing to make a trade. And I--the Darkness didn’t want it, wanted me to rip his throat out or, even better, his heart. Get him to give me his ship for a whole goddamn fleet, but I...I couldn’t. Not if I was going to find you, Swan. I was--it had to at least be a little honorable.” “How?”

The word barely squeaks its way out of her, because, really, she already knows the answer.

“He wanted a trade,” Killian says, smile barely that. “And I had the perfect thing to barter. The Jolly Roger.”

She’s not crying. That’s surprising. She’s too busy trying to keep breathing though, vision going spotty and Killian staring at her like he’s waiting for the cracks to form and the darkness to creep back in and she knows that too, knows that the sleepless nights and hours spent staring at the ceiling have been because of just that, fears of what’s been and could be and--

“You traded your ship for me?” He nods slowly. “Aye.” And it all happens in a blur. Emma tugs on his shirt and settles further into the pillows under her, the heavy feel of him on top of her a welcome weight, particularly when she arches her back and she can’t move her head quickly enough. 

She can’t kiss him quickly enough. 

She twists her neck, trying to prove something, bruising and needy and exhilarating because this is new and not and Killian groans into her mouth when Emma hooks her leg around his. She swipes her tongue across his lip, another sound that brands itself on her memory and Emma isn’t sure if the room is actually spinning or that’s just her soul, but it’s good and wonderful and everything and he pulls back slightly, staring with something almost resembling awe. 

As if she’s the one who traded her ship for him. 

He smiles. 

And it’s not wholly different from the thousands of smiles she’s seen before, a quirk of his lips and the way his cheeks shift, soft crinkles around his eyes, but, somehow, it’s completely new and entirely better, something almost settling about it, like they’re falling back together or finding each other again and it’s every single time in one expression. 

Killian’s thumb brushes over her cheek, fingers pushing into her hair and then the smile is gone, replaced with want and that same need and it makes Emma’s heart jump, a swell of feeling and magic in equal measure. 

He may mumble I love you before his lips find hers again. 

She may mumble always in return. 

And it feels like it lasts forever, but couldn’t possibly be enough time, a moment Emma wants to stretch on because if this is what forever feels like, then she’ll embrace it with open arms. So, really, she’s not sure what compels her to say the next few words, just knows that she has to and she didn’t trade her ship for a magic bean, but she’ll be damned if he did. 

Because they’ve got to be both. The past and the present and curses several times over, a pirate and a princess who never really wanted either title.

So. 

“We’re getting it back,” Emma mutters, against Killian’s mouth and she can’t help whatever her hips do when he hums in response. “Your ship. That’s...we’re getting it back.”

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 110: The Summons, Pt. 2

"It can't be…" Eli uttered, as he stared at the person that had interrupted.

"But she's dead…" Snow said.

"Apparently not," Hades replied, as Queen Ravenna strolled into the castle, her beautiful face marred with an evil smirk.

"Sorry I'm late…" she announced, as shock rippled through the entire chamber. Eli gave the baby back to Snow, as he stepped forward.

"You're not welcome here!" Eli stated firmly.

"Well, hello to you too, husband," Ravenna purred, as she strolled toward them.

"That's far enough," Persephone warned.

"At ease Persephone...I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm here to celebrate this happy occasion," Ravenna countered.

"Seriously lady...you get near my parents and I'll fry you," Emma warned. The Queen smirked.

"Such a spitfire...just like your mother. Hello Snow," Ravenna said, as she directed her attention to her pseudo step-daughter.

"What do you want?" Eli snapped.

"You called the heads of state together so here I am," she responded.

"Your brother Dalben took the Throne when we locked up Arawn," Eli reminded and she smirked.

"Unfortunately, Dalben had a very bad accident and now it falls to me to rule my Kingdom," she informed them.

"An accident...I'm sure," David commented, as his eyes were barely slits as he looked at the woman who had tormented his wife in her alternate childhood. Ravenna smirked.

"I see that no matter what the circumstances...you still found your Prince Charming. Such a spell you weave over people, but I guess that's why they call you the fairest of them all," she said, clearly still jealous of her pseudo step-daughter.

"Look lady...you weren't a part of our lives before and we're going do our best to erase you from our lives now. If I were you...I'd move off to the side and shut the hell up," Emma snapped. Ravenna scoffed.

"So uncouth...you should really give some Princess lessons to your daughter, Snow. Remember our lessons?" Ravenna cooed and Snow shivered. She remembered. She remembered all too clearly. She remembered Ravenna berating her for getting dirty in the gardens and calling her a little freak for talking to birds and animals. She remembered her nails digging into her arm when she would drag her inside. She was positive that she would have done worse if not for her fear of Persephone and Hades. And her father always incited a fight with his wife when it came to her treatment.

"I remember...and I'm never letting you near either of my children," Snow growled. She put a hand to her chest and there was mock hurt on her face.

"Oh, you wound me so, Snow...those are my step-grandchildren, after all," she mused.

"They are nothing to you, because we are no longer married," Eli snapped.

"Lucky for you since my death invalidated our marriage, but unlucky for you, because I assure you that you'll regret casting me out. But congratulations Regina...it seems that between the two of us, Snow has decided I'm the more evil step-mother," Ravenna remarked.

"Well, we both earned the Evil moniker. I'm just choosing to not embrace it anymore. You can have it, but I don't recommend it, lest you wish to find yourself alone and in ruin," Regina advised. Ravenna smirked.

"I'll take my chances…" she hissed, as she looked back at Eli.

"Last chance Eli...I encourage you to make me your Queen again. Things weren't always so bad between us and they can be good now that you're not carrying a torch for Persephone anymore," she said.

"There will never be love between us, Ravenna...and I'm going to take a page from my daughter's book. I won't be marrying anyone that I do not love," he responded. She faked a frown.

"Pity...it will be your funeral," she hissed.

"Stop threatening my father!" Snow blurted out and her mother stepped before her.

"One more threat and you'll return to death," Persephone warned. Ravenna smirked and moved off to the side to stand with the other rulers.

"By all means, All Mighty Goddess...please revere us with your wisdom," she said sarcastically. Persephone steadied herself and took a calming breath.

"Thank you all for coming and enduring the theatrics of a few dissenters that will remain nameless," she began by saying with a steely look at Frollo, Ravenna, and Leopold.

"I am sure you are wondering why you are not only in a new land, but have two sets of memories that make up one life," she continued.

"This new land you are in is the one the original Dark Curse brought my daughter's Kingdom to, as well as several others. Despite being a new and foreign place, it is a good land with many opportunities and advantages," she stated.

"When the curse broke, our family made a life in Storybrooke. That is the town that you will notice as one of your new neighbors," she added.

"I know that with new neighbors brings new borders and that can be scary. But I assure you that each ruler will still be allowed to rule their own Kingdom. As Goddess Supreme of Olympus, I will naturally oversee all the Kingdoms, but I am not one to interfere, unless people are being harmed and my hand is forced," she continued, as she looked at the three troublemakers she had eyed earlier.

"If you are peaceful, then you will have no problem adapting to this new life, which I assure you can be very good in this land. My daughter and I are already discussing educational programs to enrich everyone's knowledge of their new home," she discussed.

"We do not want anyone to fear this new life and we want to introduce you to a land built on liberty and freedom," she added.

"We will have peace and there will be no tolerance for war or oppression. Those that take that path will meet a strong opposition that they will regret challenging," she said, as she saw Anna step forward.

"What about the two sets of memories? How did that happen?" she questioned curiously.

"Yes...and how did we even come to be here in the first place? Many of our Kingdoms were not a part of the original curse," Prince Phillip interjected.

"Yes...a powerful witch from Oz is responsible for casting a spell that enacted time travel, which is expressly forbidden and breaks a law of magic. She sought to change time and create a new life for herself. But it backfired on her and she paid for it with her life," Persephone answered.

"We all seem to remember both lives as a result and when my granddaughter saved us all by reversing her spell, it seems that a new curse united all the realms together and brought us back here," she continued.

"So all this is a side effect of some spell?" King Stefan questioned.

"It would appear so. Our realms are now a part of this realm," she answered.

"And what exactly is this realm?" the Sultan of Agrabah inquired. Persephone took a breath.

"It is known as the Land Without Magic. However, that is obviously untrue to our lands. We remain hidden from those outside our borders and it must remain that way," she said, preparing for the barrage of questions that would come at that.

"Is it because they fear magic?" Elsa asked.

"Partially. But mostly, the people of this land do not believe in magic. They also believe that most of us are nothing more than fictional stories. To discover that we are real would cause many problems. People often fear what they do not understand," Persephone replied.

"So we are trapped here," Stefan surmised.

"No...we are not trapped. We are still assessing what the status of the barriers around the realms is, but no one is trapped. People will be educated on this land and if anyone wants to venture out into the Land Without Magic, that can be presented for discussion," she answered.

"And what happens if they do find out about us? We already have some outsiders in town and we know this land has great technology. What if other outsiders find a way through our barrier?" Midas questioned.

"We will make sure that doesn't happen and as for Circe's followers, we will take measures to make sure they cannot threaten our way of life," she answered. It was a nondescript response, but it was the best she could do on that front at the moment.

"So...there's no going back?" Dorothy asked.

"All the Kingdoms are here now. You'd be going back to a barren place if you were to take a bean and a curse is the only way to return the Kingdoms to our old land. Believe me, the price of another curse is much higher than making what can be a very good life here," Persephone responded and that seemed to put most at ease. For all intents and purposes, while their location may have changed and there were many new things, many things about their lives would remain the same.

"My wife has graciously answered your questions and I can assure you that she has the best interest of all at heart. And while this may be a summons, it is still a celebration as well. There should be music and mingling. And please, take an opportunity to sample some of the food of our new land. I assure you that it will not disappoint," Hades offered, as the meeting dispersed and the musicians they had hired began to play.

"Thank you...I think that was all the questions I could take tonight," she said. He smiled.

"You did beautifully, but there was never any doubt that you would. We may still have a lot to figure out, but most will see that you are right about this new venture in our lives," he assured.

"I'm still worried about them. They're going to be trouble," she lamented, as she looked at Frollo, Leopold, and Ravenna. The three seemed awfully chummy all the sudden and that didn't mean anything good.

"They'll be foolish to do anything now that you rule the heavens, but if they do, we will face them and do what is necessary," he replied.

~*~

David and Kristoff shared a brotherly hug.

"It's so good to see you...both of you," David said, as he hugged Anna as well.

"You too, just a Shepherd," Anna teased. He shook his head.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" he asked.

"Never," she replied.

"Nice hair cut, by the way," Kristoff mentioned. David smirked.

"You too," he teased, as he slipped his arm around Snow's waist.

"This is my wife Snow, our daughter Emma, and our son, whom we still have to name," David introduced them.

"It's so nice to meet you," Anna gushed, as she surprised Snow with a hug.

"It's wonderful to meet you too, but how do you know each other?" Snow asked curiously.

"Kristoff and I met years ago in the marketplace, both trying to sell goods there, in both realities, actually," David told her.

"But Anna and I met when she was passing through Misthaven. In the original time line, she actually taught me how to sword fight," he added.

"Wow…" Snow said with great interest.

"Yeah...and he kept saying he'd never be anything more than a shepherd, but I knew there was something about him," Anna replied. Snow smiled at her husband.

"You were definitely right," she agreed.

"I'm confused though. How do you have a daughter the same age?" Anna questioned. They chuckled.

"That's a long story, but it goes back to the first curse. We managed to get Emma into a magical wardrobe to escape the curse. We were all frozen in time, while she wasn't," Snow explained.

"So when that woman called you the Savior…" Elsa interjected curiously.

"Yeah...I broke the curse," Emma said.

"And you have magic?" Elsa asked.

"Sure do. True love's magic, actually. I'm still new to it, but I think I'm getting the hang of it," Emma replied, as she demonstrated by poofing a stuffed sheep into existence for her baby brother.

"Aww...it's a little sheep. Look sweetheart," Snow cooed to their infant. Elsa looked amazed by the whole thing.

"And your parents...don't fear your magic?" Elsa asked.

"Fear my magic?" Emma questioned in confusion.

"Of course not...we would never fear Emma. Her magic has saved and protected us," Snow answered.

"Yeah...and she kind of has it because of us. We share true love and that's why she has magic in the first place," David added.

"Are you okay?" Anna asked her sister. Elsa smiled.

"I'm fine...you're very lucky to have such wonderful parents, Emma," the Queen said kindly.

"I am," Emma agreed, as she smiled at them.

"Excuse me," Elsa said politely, as she went to get some air. Anna frowned.

"Is she okay?" Snow asked in concern.

"Yeah...it's just kind of a sad subject for us. You see...our parents feared Elsa's magic, because she couldn't always control it and it can be very destructive if it's unchecked," Anna explained.

"But that's not her fault," David said.

"I agree...but for years, they had her hide it, even from me. Then about three years after they died...it came out and our people feared her. But it wasn't her fault, because she couldn't control it," Anna explained.

"That's awful," Snow said.

"It was...but she learned to control it and we got past it...until…" Anna said, trailing off.

"Until?" David asked.

"Until Elsa found our mother's diary and in her last entry, she wrote that they were going to Misthaven in search of a powerful object they learned of that could take her powers away," Anna replied.

"Take her powers away?" David asked in disbelief.

"I know, it's terrible. Don't get me wrong...they loved us both very much. Their fear just ruled their decisions at times," Anna replied, not really having a good defense for her parents.

"I better go talk to Elsa," she said.

"Wait...maybe I can talk to her. I have magic...I know what it's like," Emma assured. David smiled at his daughter and patted her on the back, as she went to find the uncertain Queen.

"So...what's with the trio of terror over there?" Kristoff asked curiously.

"Oh...that a whole other story," David replied, as they began to explain that situation.

~*~

"Mind if I join you out there?" Emma asked, as she found Elsa in the gardens. Elsa smiled.

"Sure," she replied.

"Look...don't be mad at her, but Anna kind of told us what your parents were doing in Misthaven," Emma said. Elsa smiled.

"Discretion is not Anna's forte," she mused.

"Listen...I know how you feel," Emma assured.

"Sorry Emma, but it doesn't sound like your parents fear you at all and they seem to embrace your magic," Elsa replied.

"They do, but we've had our issues. See...I grew up alone in foster care, except that my grandmother, Persephone, got Morpheus to gift me and my parents with a magical dreamscape that allowed us to be together when we were asleep," Emma explained.

"Really?" Elsa asked. The other blonde nodded.

"Yes...otherwise, I probably would have grown up thinking that they just tossed me out on the side of the road and didn't want me," Emma replied.

"Wow…" Elsa said.

"Yeah...but it was still really rough when I was awake. Most of the foster homes were horrible and there was abuse. I know what it's like to be different. It made me really angry in my teen years and I took it out on my parents," Emma explained.

"Well, they don't seem to hold it against you," the Queen mentioned. Emma smiled.

"No...no matter how many horrible things I said to them or how much I yelled at them, they took it all and never got angry at me for it," Emma said.

"That's wonderful for you, Emma. I loved my parents too, but they were afraid of me," she said sadly.

"Maybe...but we're not afraid and you're not alone anymore," Emma reminded. Elsa smiled slightly.

"Seriously...your sister and brother-in-law know my dad, which means my mom is going to adopt them and you," Emma added, making Elsa chuckle.

"That actually sounds nice," she agreed.

"Come on...let's raid the food table. My step-grandfather did make sure there's a chocolate fountain and I never turn down the opportunity to gorge on junk food," Emma said.

"I adore chocolate," Elsa mentioned. Emma smiled.

"Then we're going to get along really well," she replied, as they went back inside.

~*~

David smiled down at their son, as Snow cradled him and they watched their friends dance. Emma was dancing with Neal, having surprised him that she knew how to ballroom dance, but then he had been reminded that David had gotten the pleasure of teaching her in the dreamscape. They were especially enjoying watching Regina dance with Henry though. She was slowly relaxing and accepting that revenge isn't what would make her happy.

"Why don't you two go dance. We can watch the baby," Persephone suggested, as she prepared to eagerly hold her grandson.

"Oh no...it's my turn," Hades interjected and Snow smiled, as she put him in her step-father's arms. Persephone frowned.

"Excuse me...but I think it's mine," she argued.

"No...you held him last and I haven't held him since this morning," he argued back. David shook his head and took his wife's hand, as led her onto the dance floor.

"At least we'll never be short on babysitters," he mentioned fondly.

"Not with six grandparents," she agreed, as he swept her into the rhythm of the current selection. Snow let the worries temporarily melt away, as he held her close and she rested her head against his shoulder.

~*~

"Yes...and since all the realms are united now, Papa Hades can get you a baby griffin to play with fairly easily," he cooed.

"We are not getting him a griffin," Persephone protested.

"He needs a pet. I had Cerberus…" Hades countered.

"Well, he has Wilby and if we get him anything else, it will be a Unicorn like we did for Snow," she responded. He smirked.

"Or...since you're the Goddess of the heavens now, we could get him a Pegasus," he tempted. She smirked.

"Okay, that's better. A Pegasus it will be," she cooed to him too.

"Seriously? A Pegasus?" Emma asked, as she returned with Elsa and Neal.

"You can have one too, sweetheart. We didn't get to spoil you growing up and we definitely have some gifts to make up for," Persephone replied. Emma smirked.

"That's more like it," she replied.

"I can't believe your grandparents are Persephone and Hades!" Elsa said in amazement. Emma snorted.

"Yeah, it's pretty weird sometimes," she replied, as she noticed the wistful look on the Queen's face.

"I know your parents probably loved you in their way, but they were wrong to make you feel like there was something wrong with you," she said. Elsa nodded.

"I know and I still have resentful feelings toward them at times, but I've mostly forgiven them. They were very misguided, but thought they were doing what was best," she replied.

"Good...because I happen to think your ice magic is wicked cool and I think you're going to find out that my parents will too," Emma said.

"They seem wonderful and it's so incredible that your father knows my sister and Kristoff," Elsa mentioned.

"Yep, which means they're family and so are you. And trust me, once my parents decide to adopt you into their circle, you're family forever," Emma assured. Elsa smiled.

"That sounds nice," she agreed. Unfortunately, that's where the peace and calm ended, as Leroy came running in.

"Terrible news!" he called.

~*~

Detective Landon Griffin had been wandering this strange little town all day and was even more bewildered than before. Especially with what was beyond the town. He was positive that he was in some kind of twilight zone now. Beyond the town, there was forests full of creatures and castles, with carriages that looked to be straight out of fairy tales. If that wasn't strange enough, the town, though seemingly modern, was strange as well. Especially when he happened upon a group of people, who seemed to be discussing how the Princess of the Underworld had just given birth to a demon baby. It was bizarre to say the least. He got his phone out and dialed a friend he still had at the bureau.

"Yeah Zach...it's Landon. Can you do me a favor and ping my phone?" he asked, as he went into the Inn. He decided that he might as well get a room while he was waiting and trying to figure all of this out.

"Yeah...give me a few," his friend said, as the former detective looked around in the lobby on the Inn, which looked like the decor hadn't been updated since the 1980's.

"Damn...what the hell is this place?" he muttered and became frustrated when it seemed like no one was monitoring the front desk. So he wandered around and meandered into the diner side of the establishment. There were a few people eating and it seemed to be open. It also looked like the decor hadn't been updated since the 1980's, but he was hungry and slid into a booth, while he waited.

"Hey Landon...you still there?" his friend Zach asked.

"Yeah…" he answered, as he perused a menu of typical diner items at absurdly cheap 1980's prices. He wasn't even sure how anyone could make a profit with these kinds of prices, let alone keep the doors open at all. It was probably why the decor was so outdated. He just hoped the food was decent.

"Uh...I'm not getting anything on your phone. Where are you?" Zach asked.

"I'm in Maine, near the coast in a really small, weird town," Landon responded.

"Not according to the readings on my end. I'm getting nothing on any towers in Maine," Zach responded. Landon glanced out the window and saw a cell tower in the near distance.

"That's impossible...I'm looking at a cell tower right now," he said in frustration.

"Sorry buddy...but I've got nothing. What's going on?" Zach asked.

"I'm not sure yet...but something really weird. I'll keep you posted," he replied, as he started hearing screams from outside. It managed to attract the attention of the other patrons in the diner and slowly everyone stepped out to see what the commotion was. And he scarcely could believe his eyes at what he was seeing. He watched in abject horror, as a teenaged looking boy in tattered green tinted clothes flew through the air and watched the people scatter in fear. But it wasn't just from him, as a shadowy figure swept through the streets. People ran and screamed and he found himself screaming, as he watched the shadowy creature literally rip something shadowy from a man. The man screamed in agony as he did it and then fell dead to the ground.

"What the hell is this…" he uttered, as he hid under a table on the patio and watched the spectacle with curious horror...

[mariyamaffrin12]

For What Reason Can You Never Succeed in Life if You Keep Secrets?

For What Reason Can You Never Succeed in Life if You Keep Secrets? Our ability to succeed in life is hampered by our repressed thoughts, feelings, and attitudes. We are weighed down by the weight of our secrets. Keeping secrets means being unable to move forward. Because we are afraid of being discovered out, anything that is hidden has a powerful effect on us.

Do you have any untold stories to tell?

It is entirely up to us whether or not we choose to keep our innermost thoughts and feelings hidden from the eyes of others. It takes a lot of bravery and guts to put yourself out there and risk being seen as vulnerable. As long as we don't open up to God, we can never be sure that the people we trust will not betray us. In any case, the secrets we hold will come back to haunt us. Midas-Manifestation We can't progress and thrive as individuals if we keep our secrets hidden.

You don't have to succumb to the temptations of the dark.

According to 1 John 1:5, God is light, and there is no darkness at all in His presence. The greater closeness we have with God, ourselves, and others as a result of utter honesty and exposing our darkest secrets is a price worth paying. Self-doubt may be banished and all problems are transformed into possibilities for greater enjoyment if one is honest and truthful with oneself and with others.

The temptation to keep some secrets could arise today.

Your hidden motives and dark regions need to be illuminated by the light of God. He's already familiar with them. By being open and honest with those who matter most to us, we can free ourselves from the burdens that drag us down and prevent us from achieving our full potential.

According to 1 John 1:6, if we claim to have relationship with God but continue to walk in darkness, we are deceiving ourselves and the people around us. Verse seven continues to declare that we enjoy fellowship with one another and are cleansed of all sin by the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son.

read also:

When we lie ourselves and hold secrets from ourselves and others, we impede both our spiritual relationship with God and our natural interactions with others. In order for us to grow and be happy, we must allow others to truly know us. People begin to trust us when we open up and reveal the truth. When we are open and honest with one another, we increase the quality of our relationships and the quality of our lives.

Proven Strategies for a More Successful Life

Secrets for Success in Easier Steps

BlogWild author Andy Wibbels asked me to write about the 5-10 things I do every day (or at least 4 times a week) to be successful, and I gladly accepted the challenge. So, here it is: hey, you've been tagged now! :)

Make sure you're getting enough shut-eye. In order to perform at my peak, my body requires at least seven hours of sleep each night. I have more clarity of thought, more emotional balance, and overall better health. If I don't get enough sleep ,Bioenergy Code I'm depriving everyone around me of their health and well-being.

Pray and read. Without a healthy connection with God, I am nothing. My primary secret to success is spending daily time with God and immersing myself in His Word.

It's time for me to eat my greens. When I consume home-cooked meals, I see a difference in my appearance and energy levels. When I consume a lot of fresh vegetables, my chronic problems are lessened. I won't go into detail about the health benefits because you've heard them all before.

Get in touch with my group of supporters. It's imperative that I stay in touch with the people who care about me enough to push me to improve and achieve my goals. There are people in my life who truly care about my well-being, who encourage and support me while I pursue my dreams, and who give me honest feedback. These friendships mean the world to me.

The fifth step is to make something. Words, sound, colour, and texture are some of my favourite mediums to work with. I get annoyed and stale if I don't do anything creative for a long period of time. This includes writing, singing, making jewellery, etc.

Write and review my plans. Trying to make things happen with wishful thinking has never worked for me. In order to achieve success, one must first clearly define his or her goals and objectives and then work toward them.

Read also:https://consumerscomment.com/bioenergy-code-review/

[writerleo86]

Terravenger Season 5 - Part One: Episode 338 (Do Not Copy)

   During that very morning, both Eli Peters and Damon Blake stood before the older Pacey Deacon at the beautiful Smith Park.

   Pacey took off his scarf and threw it to the ground as he said "You thought I have not heard how malicious you truly are? I was told of how you prey for people such as Ren from both Paige and Tai. You are low enough to match even the Dark Lord himself."

   Moments later, Eli gave out a soft laugh.

   He soon commented ""You remind me of his cousin Tai. He never wanted me around Ren to begin with."

   Then he stood with his right hand on his waist and responded "I never liked you Pacey, not once. You may appear as a righteous person. But inside, you are nothing but a cake-eater wearing fancy clothes."

   Pacey laughed and said "If you were not a deceptive individual, I would have been offended by that remark."

   "You know nothing about me Deacon," claimed Eli. "But then again, people like you think you can walk over those who always struggle in life."

Episode 338:  Broken Ties -- The Teller's Warning

   First, the grim Eli pointed his left finger to his opponent. Fire started to form on the shirt of the unexpected Pacey.

   "What?" He cried.

   Pacey quickly ripped his shirt off with his hands and tossed it to the ground. He now wore a white undershirt.

   Blush covered his face as Damon thought "Oh mon! Such a waste that Eli has to do away with that temple of a body."

   Pacey formed a long blade around his left hand that was made of blue lightning as he raced toward his opponent.

   "Lightning Release..." He yelled. "Jupiter's Blade!"

   And he gave out a great slash with his summoned weapon. His opponent Eli jumped beside Pacey's right side and stood at the other side of the battlefield. He soon fired a barrage of small molten rocks from his right palm. Pacey dodged by rolling to the right side. And bright blue energy formed on Damon's body to protect from the assault.

   After the protective energy faded, Damon watched as the pair traded blows using their punches and kicks.

   "I am thankful..." said Damon. "...that I was taught that ability for defense. I was able to use the element Water against Eli's fiery assault."

   Blue lightning surrounded his right hand and Pacey tried to cut Eli with this weapon. But Eli caught the wrist with both his hands. And he struck the chest of Pacey using his thrusting Left Palm which made Pacey move a few steps back.

   As soon as he gathered himself, Pacey returned to his battle stance and responded.

   "It appears that you can do more than speak. You can hold your own while in a battle."

   "You thought I would just flee?" questioned Eli.

   "And you aren't attacking with your full strength," Pacey pointed.

   Eli went into his battle stance and told his opponent "You're not as feeble as I thought. In fact, I figured you would be the one to run home to your rich daddy."

   Pacey gave out a quick laugh and claimed "You still try to play your games with our minds."

   "It is true though," Eli implied. "You have a rich daddy to sponge off. You live the life of luxury. You do come from a wealthy family after all."

   "Even some from rich surroundings..." Pacey claimed. "We have our set of problems."

   "And what is that?" asked Eli. "Keeping your high-leveled image?"

   Pacey gave out a soft grin and informed him "No. Actually my problems are quite simple. My greatest is to please my father. My 'rich daddy' as you put it."

   Damon smiled as he thought "Eli will not stop until he has the victory. He is carefully dissecting the weak points of Monsieur Deacon. That is until he finds an opening. And Eli will finish him."

   "You are nothing but a pathetic little child," Eli claimed. "You appear heroic. But deep inside, you are a sad boy wanting only his daddy's approval."

   The wicked Eli gave out a soft laugh and asked "How did it feel when you found that your father committed the ultimate sin?"

   "What was that?" shouted Pacey.

   And Eli replied "How did you take learning your father had an affair with some model instead of spending his time with his only son?"

   Pacey continued to face him as Eli asked "What was your reaction once you discovered your father's affair had conceived a child?"

   "You will leave Paige and my father out of our battle?" Pacey commanded.

   "But you and I are just getting started," said Eli. "A child that only wants the attention of his father. I wonder how it was once you discovered that your father was in a compromising position."

   Suddenly, Pacey laid his right hand down which became surrounded by blue lightning.

   "You know nothing true about my father," He told Eli. "You only read what is in the newspapers and web pages."

   "I'm sure your mom couldn't tolerate your daddy after that," Eli continued. "That must had been why she disappeared and left you with that man."

   "Shut up," cried Pacey.

   "Why is it that your mother never visits you Deacon?" Eli questioned. "Was that because she was the one who discovered the affair between your father and that lovely model -- Phoebe McCormack? Or is it something else? Something entirely different?"

   "Shut up!" shouted Pacey.

   "Come on Deacon," said Eli. "It's just a simple question."

   And tears came down from Pacey's eyes as Eli told him "Maybe she couldn't take it anymore. That is why your mother left without even a good-bye note to you. I'm sure there would had been a scandal back then."

   Eli thought for a moment and replied "Then your rich-daddy went on a quest with another one -- another beautiful model."

   Finally, Pacey rushed to his vicious opponent.

   "I said shut up!" He yelled.

   And Eli gave out a sinister smile as Pacey flew closer to him.

   Suddenly, Pacey froze as he spotted another person standing before Eli.

   "You will stop this now!"

   It was the calm being, Alexis Sanyo. She was a woman with a slender body and pointy ears. She had golden skin and purple eyes. The tops of her long brown hair were tied into two tails. She also had black eyeliner and dark-violet lipstick. And two golden rings wrapped around the side of each ear. She wore a tight purple top with long sleeves and black on her waist. She had on tight black pants and short black boots. She also had a short skirt which was colored white. And her golden MAF badge was placed on the left side of her chest.

   Once Pacey landed, Eli gave out a quick laugh.

   Then the sinister boy yelled "Now you have Lady Sanyo fighting your battles? How stupid!"

   Alexis quickly turned to Eli and yelled with a loud echo "YOU WILL BE SILENT!"

   And she faced Pacey once again.

   "You should not have challenged Eli Peters to this fight. He will be a teammate as you all battle for the reputation of this fine school."

   "You do not understand, Lady Sanyo," Pacey informed her. "I was fighting him for Ren Ravenstone who would have to look at this nightmare for the rest of his years at the Academy."

   "I am certain Ren Ravenstone never wanted you to head into a battle for him," Alexis replied. "But I do understand the reason behind this. You Pacey Deacon will head to the Academy. Officer Wood wishes to see you in the Training Room as soon as possible."

   "But Eli..." cried Pacey.

   "I shall handle him now," said Alexis. "You must hurry back to the Academy. Or you will be in severe trouble. You do know not to keep Officer Wood of all people waiting too long."

   Pacey shook his head and ran off.  

   After that, Alexis faced the two boys -- Eli and Damon.

   "And what was the idea behind provoking Pacey Deacon?" She asked.

   "It was nothing to be concern with, Ma'am," Eli informed her. "I just wanted to give Deacon the fight he wanted so he can leave me alone."

   "Then you should have a clear battle," said Alexis. "But you decided to use manipulation by mentioning both his father and sister."

   "You probably don't realize this," Eli told her. "But I decided not to be the solder everyone wants me to be."

   A peaceful Alexis nodded her head and replied "That has been shown and noticed. You have become a cold and indecent child. I had hopes for you Eliot Roman."

   Eli gave out a quick bow and said "Sorry to disappoint you."

   "Is it wise to speak to Lady Sanyo in such a manner?" questioned Damon.

   Then a mournful Alexis lowered her head and narrated "You came to Midas City as one who sought for your education, and form a true bond with someone. Now... Now I have seen you as a cold and mere being with his own demons you must battle."

   Eli turned and began walking away as he replied "I only do what I must to succeed, even if it means crushing everyone's dreams."

   Damon quickly bowed his head to Alexis. And he hurried off with his boyfriend.

   Alexis folded her arms in front of her and recited "Now I have learned that something will occur in your near future. Something horrible will come for you. And you Eliot Roman will suffer greatly on the day yet to come."

   At the small room inside the Midas City Hospital, the youth Jade Fenmore laid on a bed as she was examined by Doctor Rose Avery.

   Rose was a beautiful woman with black eyes and fair skin. And she had long dark hair that was tied into a low tail. She had on black eyeliner and pink lipstick. She also had a pair of clear eyeglasses. She wore a golden T-shirt, tight brown pants, and white shoes. And she had on a long white lab-coat with her MAF badge at the left side of the chest area.

   She guided Jade to slowly left herself from the pillow. And Rose continued to monitor her until she finally responded "You will be alright Fenmore. You just need to do the usual -- Get plenty of rest."

   "Thank goodness!" cried a relieved Jade.

   "But I will provide some medicine..." Rose told her. "...for the minor injuries inside your body, particular your left shoulder. It was pierced badly by the energy shot by Garcia."

   A happy Jade shook her head and said "Do what you gotta do Doctor!"

   In the Meeting Room at the Midas Academy, several teachers sat at the large table as the commander Beau Ravenstone stood by the chair at the right corner.

   A teacher sitting at the front right side of the table was a middle-aged man that looked quite young. He had fair skin, brown eyes, and short dark-blond hair. He wore a gray shirt with a hood on his back. He had on long white sweat-pants and white shoes. He also had on a white jacket that was zipped to the middle of his chest. And his MAF badge was placed on the left side of his chest.

   The other person that sat across from him was the counselor Mercury.

   And Doctor Leora Archer sat next to him. She wore a long white T-shirt, tight blue jeans, and short brown boots. And she had on a long white lab-coat with her MAF badge placed on the top left side of the front.

   The other who sat by the middle-aged man were Officer Sage Wood and Lieutenant Victoria Sidney.

   And sitting at the other side of Leora was the ageless doctor, Engana Vega. She had blue eyes and light skin. Her long silver hair was made into a high bun. She also had on black eyeliner and red lipstick. She wore a sleeveless brown top, a pair of turquoise pants, and short black boots. And her MAF badge was placed on the left side of her chest.

   Beau gave out a soft smile and informed everyone "It has been stated that we now have the candidates we need to represent us all at the Midas Armed Forces. Although it took some time, we indeed have the students we were looking for."

[miss-pearlescent]

The Midas Touch (4/9)

Rating: M

Read Chapter 1 here.

Her heart was racing, but she kept on the facade even as he carried her through the throngs of people and down a hallway. She nipped at the sensitive skin on his neck, half wondering if she was convincing enough for onlookers and half wondering if she was convincing enough to get a reaction out of him.

They entered a dark room, illuminated only by a lamp in the corner, and Jinju pulled back to look at Kai. She tamped down the butterflies in her stomach as she searched for his eyes. Were they really going to do this?

He avoided her gaze as he shut the door with his foot and gave her an answer by summarily dropping her on the bed.

She blinked in surprise as she caught herself. “What...”

“Where is your notebook?” he asked, his voice full of rage that was barely contained. He was pacing the room, rolling up his white shirtsleeves. He had always worn his uniform jacket around her and she realized belatedly that she had never seen him in such little clothing.

Noticing that they were also alone in a room with a large bed made her blush as she stammered, “Notebook?” Maybe she was slow from all that happened this evening, but why was he asking about a notebook?

He still wouldn’t look at her. If she could take a guess, he seemed to be outright avoiding her as he crossed to the other side of the room and stared out the window. “The notebook with the flowers. Where is it?” He ran a hand through his hair, only tousling it more. “Read it. Write or draw or do whatever you do in it. I’ll take care of the men outside and get you home safely.”

“Oh.” Guilt and shame washed over her in waves. Her voice was small as she replied. “I don’t have it.”

It took a moment for Kai to understand. She always had at least one notebook on her, and the one that he gifted to her--the one with the flowers-- was always the one that she brought to King Midas.

It was the notebook that held ideas they shared about making farming easier for the tenants, hypotheses on cures for catarrh, and even reinventing chess games to quicken the gameplay. It was a notebook meant to be a secret between him and her.

“Your father...” he trailed off.

She rose to her knees on the bed and shook her head. “I doubt he has read it. My library collection was taken, but he does not have time to read everything.”

It was true. After the King had been accused of criminal activity, he had hid his younger daughter away and forbade all her connections to the outside world. One day, her tutor was suddenly gone along with all her books. The King said it was better for her, that she should have been sheltered from the beginning. But day by day, she realized how mundane her life passed by without her books.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed as Kai took two long strides and appeared in front of her. “Is that why you’re here?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Because he took everything away?”

She nodded and her bottom lip suddenly trembled. However, she refused to cave into her emotions. “I need to find a husband as soon as possible.”

“A husband? Here?” His hand left her cheek and his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Don’t you see?” she gingerly grasped his shirt and angled her face toward his. “The men here can’t say no to me. They won’t care that I’m the daughter of a criminal once they find out they can get a portion of my trust fund.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “Then why are you wearing this?” he asked, fingering the red lace lining her wrists. “Is your money not enough?”

“You said so yourself that men love the colour red.” She blushed as she recalled what he had told her before. “The colour stirs their blood and makes them do irrational things.” Her hands waved wildly in the air, trying to make sense of a concept she did not understand.

This time, he laughed in earnest. “And marrying you would be an irrational decision?”

She blinked and opened her mouth but closed it again. Then opened it again. “Well, I’ve noticed that men tend to tire of me after the first thirty minutes. If I can keep their attention long enough to get an engagement on paper, then all the better, correct?”

“Correct,” he sighed and peeled her hands away. Taking a step back, he fell into the settee and sprawled out. “But you will not find a husband here.”

Jinju furrowed her brows, suddenly annoyed. “And why not?” she challenged.

His gaze traveled up and down her body, doing its own assessment. She felt hot and cold all at once. Kai had never looked at her like that, his lids half-closed, his teeth holding onto his full bottom lip as he searched for words to judge her body just like the rest of society. It made her giddy and fearful at the same time because she knew what he was going to say.

“How are you to bare children for my son if you have no hips?”

“Oh, Jinju, you must stop eating so much. I can see your...middle.”

“Do something about your hair, won’t you? Its curls are flattening and this braid should be tucked in here.”

“Those men out there are only here to fuck you.”

Jinju fell back on her heels, not expecting to hear that. “E-excuse me?” Her arms came around to cross over her chest. An instinctive move.

“They want nothing but your money and your body.” He played with a speck of dust on his shirt, as if this conversation were about the weather. “And when they’re done, they will leave you in the country to raise their gaggle of children.”

She tilted her chin up, knowing he was trying to goad her away from this idea. Away from this place. “What if that’s the life I want?” Away from him. “Surely you agree that it’s better than living under my father’s rule.”

“But you have so much more to offer.” He exploded out of his seat, glaring down at her like he didn’t just give her one of the best compliments she’d ever heard. “Can’t you see? You don’t belong here.”

She stood as well, hating the level difference. At least on her feet, she could glare at his nose. “But what if nobody is willing to take my offer? Even when I didn’t have my father’s history looming over me, nobody wanted me.”

Her fists clenched and she fought not to cry. Admitting that seemed to make it all real. She’d thought about it here or there—usually alone in bed after a long day—but she’d never said it out loud.

“I realized my standards were too high when I asked for a man who could converse with me,” she continued. “So here I am, looking for a husband who has no choice but to marry me.”

When he didn’t reply, she wanted to scream.

Instead, she took a step forward and continued. “You said so yourself. Marriage is a business deal. I am looking for a man to give me freedom to my rightful money and future. If that means giving him my body and a few children, then so be it.” She threw out her arms. “With time, it will be a thing of the past.”

Kai’s expression was shuttered. “You will be ruined.” He staggered back to his seat, evidently giving up on her.

She knew the consequences. “Maybe I am looking to be ruined.” She didn’t need him to tell her what she already knew.

But when he looked up at her, his eyes full of uncertainty, he cocked an eyebrow.

It wasn’t condescending, merely a question. Was she sure she wanted to go through with this? To shackle herself from one man to another? Possibly not even taste the freedom that she dreamed about night after night?

She swallowed.

And suddenly, she was unsure of herself.

Jinju hated him. Hated that he could see right through her. Knew all the insecurities she held even without asking. He saw that she was flawed and still pitied her enough to talk to her.

She knew he didn’t like her. Her sister had said so. He had never even spoken a word to her before she had attached herself to him during that garden tour. She just wanted to ask him some simple questions, find out that he was real and not just a handsome figment of her imagination.

She sucked in a shaky breath. Too late, she realized he was even more attractive in real life than in her head. And she couldn’t help herself from falling head over heels for him.

Jinju couldn’t bare to hear the answer, but she wanted to know. If he didn’t want her around, she would leave him and stop torturing herself. She would find a husband and move away, hide somewhere in the country for the rest of her life just like he said.

She had to hold onto that, because everything else was the unknown. There was nowhere else to go and she heard the desperation in her voice when she finally asked, “Would you marry me?”

---

OMFGLKJFDA I hate myself, I’m so sorry this took so long. Life is weird these days, but thank you for understanding and reading! :)

[lokisgame]

Between The Lines & Behind The Lines

It was a brisk March morning in Alexandria. A man in his thirties was running through still sleeping streets. The sun was rising and the sky was clear, a good Sunday ahead of him.

He took the stairs to his fourth floor apartment, the last stretch of his morning workout routine. He let himself in, flipped the switch on the waiting coffee machine, and headed for the bathroom to take a shower, undressing as he went.

Under the hot spray, he took care of the last part of the start of his day, the images in his head of tall, slender, dark haired women, willing and there.

He was alone at the moment, but that was about to change. His morning reading for today consisted of a undergraduate thesis by a young agent, who was soon to become his partner.

He was notified some time ago that he could expect his freedom to be curbed and his activities to be placed under surveillance and he wouldn't be himself if his curiosity didn't take the best of him and lead to a personal file waiting on his desk with a copy of said paper.

He got out of the shower and dressed in jeans and plain white t-shirt, towel drying his hair and skipping the shave. He has read the file before and started to form some idea about the woman inside his head. His profiler skills were useful in many ways.

Straight A student, two faculties in completely different areas of expertise, spoke of her thoroughness and diligence but also of courage in taking up new challenges. To switch from physics to medicine, was remarkable even by his standards, especially giving that her grades in both disciplines were far above average.

Why someone so obviously brilliant would agree to be sent into the basement to poke around cold cases? Why were they wasting her talents on him? The easiest reason, the lazy assumption, would be that she's a teachers pet and might want to use him as a stepping stone for her career, a chance to win favor with her superiors by destroying the FBI's most unwanted. On the other hand, she might be an obedient doe who's afraid to say no to anyone, and got herself manipulated into accepting a dead end job, following orders without a fight, as would be expected from a navy captain's daughter. Possible, but unlikely. There was also the matter of her varied interests, to be great at everything she touched looked kind of suspicious to him. Her Midas touch seemed a little too heavy-handed to be real.

He stirred the scrambled eggs in the pan pondering the possibilities. Cold blooded career woman, or maybe gray mouse slash book worm better suited for lab, or autopsy bay in her case, than field work. He poured himself some coffee (black, no sugar) and dug into his breakfast, looking through the personal file.

His thoughts drifted around the bio as he studied the picture of a pretty young woman, slender and fair skinned, with shoulder length red hair, possibly of Irish descendant, a hair over 5 feet tall. Not a winning combination for a field agent, even if the results of her physical evaluation where as spotless as everything else about her. Well, maybe except her face with the cute little mole above her lip, he loved that. The picture, being a simple portrait used probably for her badge, didn't say much about her. Her face was a mask of detached professionalism, devoid of any clues about her character. Unless she was truly a cold hearted bitch which was highly doubtful, or so he hoped at least. He had enough of those for the time being. Dana, sounded awfully like Diana to him, like a cruel joke from the people above pulling the strings. He pushed away those thoughts from his mind to keep himself from projecting any feelings he might still have. That chapter was over but he made a mental note to keep a safe distance anyway, for the time being, just in case.

He finished his food, too lost in his thoughts to really taste anything, left the dishes in the sink and took the coffee with him into the living room to start on her thesis. His plan being to try to decipher some things about her character from it. The title was surely intriguing, especially giving the young age of the person who wrote it. Yes, he had some more recent articles written by her for various medical journals, but it was a too bright a morning and he was in mood for a lighter reading.

He sat on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, Elvis was playing quietly on the radio in the kitchen, and immersed himself in Dana Kathrine Scully's interpretation of Einstein's Twin Paradox theory.

An hour later, his coffee has gone cold and his smile grew warm. He warmed up to her with each page he read. The person who wrote that, deserved the benefit of the doubt at least. His eyes drifted back to the picture of her. Her eyes seemed warmer and her lips had a slight upward curve that he couldn't believe he did not notice before. No cold hearted bitch here.

"Well Scully, we'll see if we can put your talents to good use" he said to himself and went back to the first page, smiling as he started to read again.

"Although common sense may rule out the possibility of time travel, the laws of quantum physics certainly do not."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a warm June morning in Alexandria. A man in his late thirties was running through the empty streets of a still sleeping town. He took the stairs to his fourth floor apartment and quietly let himself in. He passed through the kitchen and started on coffee, then headed for the bathroom to take a shower, undressing as he went.

A woman was sleeping peacefully in his bed, just as he left her. She laid on her side, hugging a pillow, the sheet slipped low down her back revealing planes of cream colored skin dotted with freckles, perfect in her imperfections. Real.

He shut the door quietly, careful not to wake her, and took a quick shower, then shaved. Dressed in a clean pair of sweats and a towel around his neck, keeping as quiet as possible, he made them coffee. Black no sugar for himself, skim milk no sugar for her.

He set the mugs on the bedside table, leaned over her and kiss her cheek softly.

"Good morning Agent" he whispered sitting behind her, watching a slow smile spread across her face. Her skin looked radiant in the morning sun, free of makeup and professional masks. This was her true self, her most vulnerable and intimate face. This was how he saw her. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and watched her blink her eyes open.

"Good morning" her voice soft and heavy with sleep "what time is it?"

"It's Sunday" he replied vaguely, because to him the time was now, this moment was all that mattered. He waited for this moment for years. Her eyes focused on him, taking in his fresh appearance.

"You started without me" she smiled and sat up, stretching her arms above her head, gloriously naked.

An hour later, she was back in bed, dressed in his t-shirt, with her head resting against his lap. He sat with a pillow behind his back, reading a book about black holes of all things. The radio on his night stand was set to some late 60's rock station. She played with the fingers of his right hand, abandoned medical journal laying beside her. She was reading the titles of the books on the shelf above the headboard instead, searching for something lighter to read. One slim unmarked volume caught her eye. It's size made it stand out, the spine looked well worn, clear evidence of being read many times over. She reached for it, trying to slip it from under thick volumes filled with alien abduction accounts and theories. He reached out to help her without looking up, keeping the books from falling on her head.

She read the title on the cover and stared at him upside down.

"Mulder"

"Hmmm?" He glanced at what she found and a faint blush colored his face.

"Why do you still have this?" She asked, noticing the dog eared pages and underlined paragraphs.

"Because you wrote it?" His tone was hesitant, as if unsure what was it exactly she was asking.

"How many times have you read it?" She went back to the first page and ran her fingers over the first, underlined sentence.

"A couple times" he replied noncommittally, but she saw right through him. He most likely knew it by heart at this point.

"At least, from the look of it, I would say." She caught his eye and smiled at him warmly. That must have been one of the sweetest things about him. Those little gestures that spoke volumes about his caring nature, sweeter still since he usually was a major pain in everyone's ass.

"That was years ago" he shrugged returning to his reading, the sun reflecting of his reading glasses as he did. "It's a good read."

"Oh really" she sat up and moved to straddle his hips "I thought that in your line of work the laws of physics rarely applied" she teased wrapping her arms around his neck. He put down the book on the night stand, face down to mark where he finished.

"Who said I read it for the science?" She smiled and took off his glasses, placing them on top of her head, after all the years together they could share even that.

"What else would you read it for?" His hands found their way under the t-shirt, circling her hips, caressing her waist.

"To learn" he pulled her closer, "I've learned a great deal from it" his palms fitted her body as if they were made for her.

"About what?" She leaned in and kissed his cheek, following a path up to his temple, his arms closed around her, holding her as he surrendered.

"About you" he had a hard time focusing on his point as she ran her fingers through his hair, leaving kisses wherever she went "about myself."

"Yourself?" Her tone disbelieving, her breath tickling the side of his neck

"Yeah, you made me realize what a lousy profiler I am" he pulled her down and laced his fingers through hers "you disproved almost every theory I had about you inside the first two days."

"And how did you feel about that?" She rolled her hips against his, kissing his shoulder and trying to stay on top of him, feeling him grow hard and thoroughly enjoying it.

"Happy" he grunted as she forced him to keep still with the weight of her body, flexing against him "a little surprised" she bit on his shoulder then soothed it with a kiss "and turned on as hell" his voice was rough and strained from fighting the urge to take charge, from forcing himself to surrender to her.

Her lips found his and the fight left him. She let go of his hands only to pull down his sweats and guide him inside her. After that is was only them, grinding and kissing and meeting half way. She gasped, he groaned and the world shrunk for a moment into a pinpoint of light. Time passed by without touching them.

She rested on his chest for a long moment, releasing his hands, letting him wrap his arms around her. She listened to his heart as his hands roamed lazyly over her back. He usually liked to follow up on their conversations in moments like that.

"Do you still believe it's possible?" 

"What is?"

"Time travel" he chuckled "what would you tell your younger self, once she came back?"

"I don't know" she moved to slip off him, but stayed in his embrace "maybe I'd tell her to not get on that plane? To live in the moment"

"Wise words my friend" he kissed her forehead then the palm of her hand.

"Whichever of us has you, I want to be her."

"I don't think I would let you get on that plane anyway."

"I wouldn't think about going without you. What good is an eternity, future or past, if it's filled with loneliness."

"You say the sweetest things Scully."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"It's my heart that I'm worried about."

"No need to worry about that either" she snuggled closer and her breath tickled his chest. "Let me sleep for a bit"

"Whatever you say."

The radio played quietly in the background and he returned to his reading as she slept.