#or 'please loudly debate whether or not david is right'

[whilomm]

why are people so goddamn pissed about intermissions in movies. "ooohhh respect the movie youll sit down for 5 hours to binge a tv show-" and during those 5 hours i will press pause and go take a piss probably!!! theatres were putting intermissions in killers of the flower moon for accessibility and they were literally told they had to stop bc "preserving the artistic vision" is more important than. letting ppl go to the bathroom. who gives a shit, yes make long ass movies but i shouldnt have to strategically plan my bathroom break beforehand and avoid drinking anything during the entire movie just to watch a movie. giving ppl a 5 min break to go take a piss isnt "ruining the artistic vision" im sorry that some ppls bodies arent compatible with going 3.5 hrs without a piss!!!

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 7/10

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

Happy new year! And good riddance to the absolute mess that was 2020. Here we are back into the angst and the hurt, for the prompts “flashbacks,” and “hot cocoa.”

Warnings for this chapter: referenced rape. (it's super vague though)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Flashbacks + Hot Cocoa

Christmas wasn’t as bad as Killian had worried. He was careful to ensure his back was never left unguarded, because he was still too easily startled by anyone touching him from behind, and David and Snow White hadn’t brought up any difficult topics, and Killian had only caught Snow staring at his splinted hand once. He’d had a good day, everything considered. They laughed, and talked, and ate good food and exchanged gifts. Though between imbibing a bit too much alcohol and the strain of being so hyper-vigilant for that length of time, by the time their guests had left Killian was barely still on his feet. But it was okay because Emma was there to brace him when he wobbled precariously on his way upstairs. And he thought that was a good metaphor for their relationship, really. Heh. It seemed he was a little drunker than he first believed if he’s getting this maudlin.

 ----

Early in the new year, the doctor declares Killian’s fingers healed enough to have the splints off, and shortly after, Killian concludes that physical therapy is not far removed from torture. His fingers have become too used to remaining straight and flexing them hurts. And his therapist, Stacy, is completely indifferent to his suffering. Her hands on his own are sure and relentless as she coaxes his fingers into different positions and he just barely stops himself from yanking his hand from her grip.

“Bloody hell,” he hisses instead, and at least she has the decency to apologize.

But she doesn’t let his hand go.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I did warn you this wouldn’t be pleasant to start with.”

She had warned him, he’ll give her that. But he wasn’t prepared for how much it would pain him. Or how soon his dark memories would begin to creep out of the cage he’d locked them in. Blood and bone and see how well you can escape now, pirate. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on what Stacy’s telling him.

“See if you can make a fist.”

His fingers don’t want to. He flexes them barely enough to hold a cup instead and Killian’s chewing on his lower lip hard enough to hurt.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just relax a bit, huh? Captain?”

He’s not trembling. There’s definitely not a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His heart is not beating loudly in his ears. Take some deep breaths, Jones, before you bloody lose it.

“Are you okay? We can take a break if you need to.”

“I’m fine,” he lies.

Stacy sees right through him. Of course. It’s not like he’s making a very convincing effort here. She hands him a squishy ball and tells him to try squeezing it. Thankfully Killian has a little more success with that, although it still hurts and his grasp is weak. But Stacy lets him end the session on that “high note,” and Killian silently fumes all the way back home, his boots hitting the pavement with a little more force than required. The doctor had promised his hand would heal, and when he’d been told it would be “almost as good” as before, Killian had assumed he’d actually be able to make a damn fist.

----

Emma had offered to take the day off work to attend Killian’s first physical therapy session with him, but he’d declined. He didn’t need her to play nursemaid anymore, and he definitely didn’t want her to see what a mess he was emotionally afterwards. And he’s immensely grateful they’d had the foresight to get Henry out of the house for a while, just in case of this exact outcome. Killian had scoffed at Emma’s suggestion, at her insinuation he wouldn’t be able to handle a bit of therapy, but now he’s reluctantly admitting that she was right. Because even once he’s back home, his heartrate still hasn’t calmed down and he can almost feel his captor’s touch on him again, the sensation making him want to claw off his own skin. He takes a long, hot shower and debates whether he should take the pills for his aching hand or drink some rum – rum wins in the end because he hopes it’ll also calm his thoughts. Archie won’t be happy if he finds out Killian hasn’t been using the “proper coping techniques,” but bugger that, Killian thinks he’s earned this. So that’s where Emma finds him when she gets home from work, sprawled out on the couch in dark jeans and a shirt buttoned even less than usual, with a bit too much rum in his blood, bleary eyes watching his fish swim back and forth.

“How’d it go?” Emma asks, before she really takes in the sight of him, “Oh. That bad, huh?”

“S’fine. Just got a little tense afterwards, needed to calm down.”

His voice slurs just a little. He must look a mess, because Emma plucks the bottle from his loose fingers and sets it out of reach before sitting next to him. He doesn’t protest. The pain has settled deep into his knuckles where the rum couldn’t reach it anyway. Perhaps he should have taken Stacy’s advice and put some ice on it. Too late now.

“Does it hurt?” Emma asks, and Killian probably should have done a better job at concealing that fact from her.

But the way his fingers are twitching, and he’s tucked his hand gently into the crook of his left elbow, bracing his right arm against his chest now she’s taken the bottle away leaves no room to deny that it hurts.

“Aye, but not too much.”

Not too much. It’s the truth because he’s felt far worse pain. He can handle a few spasms, a few shooting pains through his fingers. At least he still has any fingers to feel pain in. When his captors had maimed it, and then continued to target it throughout the following days, he’d honestly thought that would be the end of his hand. He can feel his heartbeat quicken again and he tries to distance himself from that memory quickly, and thankfully Emma provides the distraction. She conjures something from somewhere without leaving his side, a bottle of liquid that smells heavenly as she tips some onto her hand and rubs them together. Killian watches her with weary curiosity.

“Let me help?” Emma reaches for his hand and he gives it to her without hesitation.

She’s always so gentle, her hands so soft and careful with his wounds. And now, as she works her warm hand across his in soothing patterns Killian wonders what he did to deserve this beautiful woman. Emma watches his face for any signs that she’s hurting him, and he gives her an encouraging smile. Her ministrations, even without her magic, are pulling the tension from his muscles in a way neither the rum nor the medicine could ever do. He lets out a quiet sigh and rests his head on the couch, closing his eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasant sensations and the feeling of total safety he has with Emma. The scent of the oil washes over his senses, calming and balancing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks, her quiet voice a balm over his tired soul.

“Not really.”

He knows she won’t push him. He doesn’t want to think about therapy or trauma or any of that right now and she lets him get away with it, pressing her lips lightly against his temple. He hums a faint sound of satisfaction.

“I wish I could take away your pain,” Emma murmurs, “I hate seeing you suffer and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“Believe me, Emma, you’re doing plenty. This is wonderful.”

His voice is barely audible. He feels blissful and content. He’s not sure how much of the feeling is the rum finally taking effect and how much is Emma’s gentle touch and how much is the scent of the oil. Her fingers are still moving steadily over his own, tracing lightly over the still-healing scars.

“Do you want to move this upstairs? And I can do the rest of you.”

As loathe as Killian is to move on from this delightfully tranquil moment, the thought of Emma doing the rest of him is too tempting and he hauls himself off the couch. Though logically, he knew that Emma wouldn’t get to do much more massaging once they relocated to the bedroom. But he didn’t mind that at all. Their kisses are heated and passionate and he knows he’s setting her every nerve ablaze, even though they’ve barely started. He knows all her sensitive spots; where to stroke and to squeeze, where to press his lips, his tongue, where to bite and where to suck, how to roll his hips against her in a way that makes Emma grow wild with desire. She’s losing herself in the sensations, he can see in the darkening of her green eyes, her hands shaking as she frantically unfastens his belt and tugs at his trousers and- Panic claws its way up his throat. Killian’s movement stutters, then stops completely. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself down, trying to breathe. It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just Emma the rational part of his mind says, but he could be still in the cellar right now, bent over and they’re about to-

“Killian?”

No. Those are Emma’s hands touching him. Holding his hips to steady him because he’s trembling. But suddenly he can’t, he can’t, his stomach is twisting into a nauseating knot and he pulls away from her touch.

“S-sorry, love, I don’t think I can…”

Killian gestures vaguely, and he can’t even look at her as he scrambles off the bed, his hand shaking as he awkwardly holds up his jeans. His arousal is fading, all his intentions of a moment ago swept away by his fears. By his memories. Just look at yourself, Hook. Can’t even please a woman. You’re broken. You’re a coward. The thoughts don’t feel quite like his own, more like a memory of words spat at him by others, though he whole-heartedly agrees with them. Emma stops him with a gentle hand on his arm before he can move out of reach. It’s altogether too much and he wants to tell her to stop, but the words he wants to say are choking him, because Killian Jones doesn’t beg.

“Killian, look at me,” Emma says, and waits for him to reluctantly lift his gaze to her own, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

He swallows hard and he’s still shaking, but he doesn’t run. No matter how bad he wants to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just…” Killian struggles to explain.

She stands and reaches up slowly to stroke his cheek, but he can’t help flinching away from her touch. Emma drops her hands to her sides again immediately and Killian’s heart cracks in half at the look of guilt on her face.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeats softly, “Just stay with me.”

Killian had never spoken of it to her, but it was no secret what he’d been through during his capture. Emma had probably seen the blood, and the bruises on his hips from where they’d held him still. She knew. Killian swallows hard as he watches the emotions play out across her face. He loves her so much it hurts. But gods, he can’t do this right now, as desperately as he wants to. Because they’ve ruined him, sullied his mind and his body and broke him so thoroughly that now he’s utterly dependant on Emma, and tonight he can’t even give her the one thing she wants in return.

“What do you need me to do, Killian?” she asks softly.

Words fail him. And he’s not sure what he would even say if he was capable of speech. What does he need? He needs to forget, just for a while. To drink until he blacks out. To lose himself in Emma’s scent and her touch. But he can’t. He can’t do anything. He’s helpless. Emma lets her hands drift to his belt again, buckling it again in slow, deliberate movements because his hand is shaking too badly now to do it himself. Killian chews on his lower lip hard enough to hurt, wants it to hurt, anything to feel something that isn’t the blinding terror of someone else’s hands on his body. It’s just Emma, being so careful and gentle like she always is now so why can’t he move past this? Why is he shaking so badly?

“It’s okay,” she assures him, “Don’t worry about this. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” he says, and takes a sharp breath like he’s been holding it too long, and maybe he has, “But add some rum to mine, will you?”

He laughs on his exhale, a weak and breathless thing. She smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes – eyes that are full of something akin to sorrow, and far too much sympathy. He hates knowing those emotions are directed at him, he’s not worthy of her compassion and he can’t bear to look at her anymore, his eyes darting away to some point across the room. Emma doesn’t bother putting back on the clothes he pulled off her, just pulls a robe around herself to ward off the evening chill, and Killian trails behind her down to the kitchen, tries to breathe as she fills the jug and sets it to boil. He can’t stand still. Everything feels wrong. His whole body is a tightly coiled spring, aching with a need that his traitorous mind won’t allow him to fulfil. It’s going to drive him mad. And worse than his own need is the thought that he’s leaving Emma unsatisfied as well. Then Emma turns to him, reaches for him slowly, and when he turns his face away and his pursed lips out of reach but doesn’t step back, she changes her strategy, presses a tender kiss to the smooth line of his throat. He’s still trembling, but her touch draws a desperate almost-whine from him. Bloody hell, he needs her like he needs to breathe.

“Stay with me, Killian,” she murmurs, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But I need you with me, right here.”

Her hand settles over his heart, and even through his shirt he’s certain she can feel how quickly it’s beating. But she waits for him, looks into his eyes and waits for him to move. When Killian does move, it’s with a rush as he takes her mouth with his, eyes closed, his hand cradling the back of her head. Emma’s hands are light, her touch soothing, letting him take what he needs. And she’s as intoxicating as ever, just the taste of her mouth sending a delicious heat through his body and he never wants this to end. But this is as far as he can go tonight. Killian can still feel the memories in the back of his mind, like a dark chasm he could easily tumble into if he takes the wrong step. He’s been trying to keep them contained in a box, an imaginary cage he can throw all the trauma into, but it seems the strain of physical therapy had loosened his mental lock on it.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is rough when he releases her lips and turns his face away again in humiliation. “I want to, but… I’m- I’m sorry.”

He tries to step away, his shame overwhelming, but Emma isn’t going to let him go so easily. Her hand presses lightly against the small of his back, coaxing him back to her, feeling the tremors still skittering down his spine. She lifts her other hand on his face, fingers caressing his tightly clenched jaw as she draws his attention back to her.

“It’s okay,” she tells him again, and he knows she’ll tell him as many times as she has to before he believes her, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just breathe, Killian. Just… Just stay.”

“I’m here, Swan,” he says, cursing the way his voice shakes.

His thumb brushes her cheek, before he lowers his forehead gently against hers and breathes deeply, breathing her in, the curve of his hook resting against her hip. Emma gives a soft sigh as he does so. He can feel himself calming, settling into her embrace, soothed by her caresses. The moment is broken by the bubbling sound and subsequent click of the jug as it finishes boiling the water, but although Killian’s hand still trembles a little when he takes the cup of cocoa, he gifts her with a smile of gratitude. She’s too good for him, far more kind than he could ever deserve. And yet here she still is, smiling back at him over her cup, her lips almost hidden behind the pile of whipped cream she’s scooped into her drink.

 ----

(Later, he uses his mouth to satisfy her needs, and at least he can still do that, but for himself? He’s reduced to finishing off in the shower alone, like the coward he is.)

To be continued

[dc41896]

Fill Me In

Hey guys☺️! Just wanted to say this idea was inspired by the song “Fill Me In” by Craig David, which is one of my faves and I would definitely recommend if you guys want to look it up

Pairing: Colin SheaxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff!💕

Warm, soft lips peppering the back of your neck with gentle kisses, you giggle to yourself as you begin to stir under your covers lazily draped over you and your boyfriend’s bodies. Twisting your body around, you’re met with familiar calming blue eyes that now looked the lightest shade of green from the bit of sunlight peaking through the sheer curtains and hitting his face just right.

“Morning beautiful. Sleep well?,” he lazily smiles with groggy, morning voice still intact making your stomach flutter.

“Mhm,” you nod as he kisses your lips, already leaving you breathless and hoping you can stay like this all day.

“So what’s the plan for today?”

“Honestly, nothing besides getting breakfast and eventually lunch and dinner.”

“Oh good, which means we have all the time we want for this.” Leaning down to your neck, you feel lips making their way from your collarbone back up to your jaw leaving more sweet kisses and destined hickeys. Giggling even more from the sensation on your most ticklish spot, your hands make their way to the back of his neck and run through his short, dark brown hair while he holds you close making it impossible to escape.

Loudly vibrating the wood of the nightstand, your phone interrupts your giggle fit, however Colin could care less as he continued his antics.

“Babe cmon let me get the phone really quick.”

With a light huff, he groans into your neck taking a break from his love bites to let you lean over to your waiting phone.

“Hey mom.”

“Hey sweetie! From the sound of your voice I can tell you’re still in bed,” she chuckles.

“Yea I had a late night getting some things done for work.”

“As well as other things,” Colin quietly adds making you smack his chest.

“That’s my girl! Get that work done sweetie,” your dad shouts, smile being felt over the phone and making you laugh.

“Thanks dad, I’m trying.”

“Well hopefully you’ve gotten enough rest because we’re 15 minutes away.”

“Oh from Boston?”

“No, from the apartment!” Quickly sitting up and accidentally scaring Colin, you feel your heart race and stomach grow queasy. “We wanted to surprise you since we haven’t seen you in a while and I even brought all your favorites to cook for you.”

“Aww thanks mom, you guys really didn’t have to do that though.”

“We know but we wanted to, now go ahead and get dressed we’ll be there soon. Bye!”

“Bye,” you reply quickly hanging up your phone and clumsily leaping from the bed with the grey comforter wrapped around your body leaving your boyfriend confused as he sits up covering himself with the thin sheet left.

“So I’m guessing we’re not staying in bed all day?”

“No. My parents decided to pay me a surprise visit and will be here any minute so I have to get ready,” you answer rummaging through your closet like a tornado through a small town trying to pick something out.

“Oh ok, where are we going? I know this great place downtown that they’ll love,” he smiles picking his clothes from the floor and beginning to put them back on. Pausing as you finish securing your ankle length, slit skirt to your hips, that queasy feeling comes back in full force along with guilt from what you were about to say.

“Um actually they’re coming here since my mom’s gonna cook, but uh they’re expecting only the three of us to be there...,” you explain still facing the closet not wanting to see his reaction. Shaking his head, the bed squeaks from him sitting down looking at the carpet beneath his feet.

“You still haven’t told them about us.”

“Babe I’m sorry-,”

“We’ve been together almost a year Y/N. I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you being afraid to tell them or not wanting to because you’re ashamed.”

“What? No of course not!” Walking over to the bed, you crawl across the mattress to wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss his cheek from behind.

“I want to tell them it’s just I know how they get; especially my dad. That’s why I haven’t even mentioned me quitting my job.”

“Y/N you’re a grown adult, I get not wanting to potentially upset or disappoint them but you also have to live your life.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll stop being afraid...one day...eventually,” you reply making him chuckle. “Now I say this with all the love in my heart, but put on your clothes so you can get out please?”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs before turning to peck your lips.

Following you down the wooden stairs of your loft apartment, he gives you one last kiss goodbye before opening your front door only to come face to face with your parents equally as surprised.

“Hey sweetie! Who is this?,” your mom smiles holding a couple bags of groceries.

“This is um-,”

“Colin. Colin Shea, nice to meet you Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Ohh this is Colin! Y/N’s mentioned hanging out with you a couple times, it’s nice to meet you as well. And please call me Diane.”

“Funny he’s never been mentioned to me,” your dad, Simon, speaks seemingly analyzing Colin.

“Yes he has, remember a while back she was going to listen to a band and she said her friend Colin would be there?”

“Oh right uh nice to meet you,” Simon half smiles making his way between the two of you to place a kiss on your forehead before setting the bags down in the kitchen.

“If you don’t have any plans Colin, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner.”

“Yea um about that-,”

“I’d love to!,” he smiles taking the bags from her as she walks in. “I can help out with cooking too if you want.”

“You’re so sweet, but that’s ok. Y/N and I have it, you just relax with Simon.”

“That’s Mr. Y/L/N,” he adds removing the various ingredients from the plastic bags.

Watching as your mom joins your father to start getting things prepared, you hold onto Colin’s arm halting him from the step he was about to take.

“What are you doing?,” you ask in a hushed tone not to be heard by your parents.

“Umm staying for dinner?”

“Colin I’m serious let me tell them when I’m ready. Do not try to ‘accidentally’ have it slip.”

“I know and I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll continue this night as your very close friend who has seen the oddly shaped birthmark at the top of your left buttcheek.”

“Colin!”

“Calm down you have nothing to worry about,” he winks moving to join your parents in the kitchen.

“This is definitely not how I imagined today going,” you thought as you took a deep breath and plastered the best smile you could muster on your face as if on the inside you weren’t screaming to the top of you lungs.

———

“And that was the day I learned that cats really don’t like water and officially became a dog person,” Colin finishes making you and your parents laugh. Taking a bite of the remaining dinner on your plate you were pleasantly surprised, and grateful, at how smoothly everything was going.

While you and your mom cooked, the men talked football on the couch and eventually sounded as if they had known each other longer than a couple hours from their back and forth of which team was better.

Colin being a Boston boy of course siding with the Patriots, while your dad adamantly argued the Falcons like the stan he is.

From football the conversation moved to other topics making you smile to yourself after every glance their way.

Seeing them get along so well, even over dinner, you were just hoping this was a good sign for things to come. Heck, you were so giddy you felt like telling your parents everything right then and there feeling as if nothing could damper the mood.

“So were you guys gonna tell us you’re seeing each other this trip or during the holidays when you also say you’ve eloped and I’m gonna be a grandpa?,” your dad asks sitting back in his chair with arms folded over his chest.

Andddd spoke too soon.

“W-What are you talking about? We’re just friends dad,” you nervously laugh looking at Colin doing the same as he drinks the water from his glass.

“So explain why you’re wearing his necklace then? And before you object, I know in fact it’s his because when he was showing me stats during our football debate I saw the picture on the screen was him and I’m guessing his friends and that same pendant was around his neck. So either you’re that close of friends that you having matching necklaces or something else is going on.”

Still drinking from his glass to avoid having to talk, you slightly shift in your seat unable to find any words to say.

“Or if that’s not enough for you, when we got up to come eat I could smell your perfume on his shirt,” he calmly explains leaning forward to take a bite of his mixed vegetables. “So tell us again how you’re ‘just friends’.”

“Dad I can explain-,”

“I don’t know who I’m more mad at, you my own daughter hiding stuff or you not being man enough to come tell me to my face, or even call, to say you’re seeing my daughter,” he replies directing his attention to a slightly offended Colin.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s me you should be the most upset at. Colin wanted to meet and talk to you guys but I told him no.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re overbearing and judgmental,” you blurt out before your brain could think of a nicer way to try to phrase it. Hand over his chest, he lightly gasps at your allegation while your mom avoids his eyes.

“I am not! But if I was it’s because I’m looking out for you.”

“And I appreciate that, but I’m a grown woman. At some point you’ve got to let me live my life and with the decisions I make whether you think they’re good or not.”

Sighing as his arms fold on the table, he looks over at your mom shaking his head while she busies herself folding the napkin in front of her.

“So you’re just gonna let our daughter talk to me like that?”

“You already know I’ve been telling you about easing up but nooo. Just like you’re daughter, you’re too stubborn.”

“Now that you mention it, she is really stubborn,” Colin adds.

“If you think she’s bad now you should’ve seen her as a child. Lord the tantrums,” your mom laughs along with Colin as if the prior events had never happened and they were still in the middle of a pleasant conversation.

“Okay I’m pretty sure we were talking about dad and not me.”

“Alright I may be a bit stubborn, but that still doesn’t make it right you sneaking around.”

“Simon please, you act like we never did the same thing,” she retorts making your dads eyes quickly fart in her direction trying to silence here while Colin wildly laughed as he leans his head back.

“I gotta have dinner with you guys more often.”

“You’re whole freshman year you’d beg me to come visit and send me bus tickets fully knowing my parents did not want me to be in your dorm.”

All eyes on him, your father sighs running a hand over his face looking defeated and embarrassed.

“Okay you caught me, I did the same things since I too wanted to live my life and do what I wanted. It’s actually funny because I remember telling myself whenever I had kids I’d never be like my parents, all trying to figure out your business and constantly breathing down your neck. But when I first held you and wanted to keep you untouched and protected, I realized that’s all our parents wanted from us too and slipped down that path,” he chuckles to himself shaking his head.

“I never wanted you to feel like you couldn’t come talk to me with any and everything on your mind and I’m sorry I have for all these years. It’s gonna take some time, but I promise to do better bun.” Giggle breaking through your hard expression at the use of your childhood nickname, you lean forward grabbing his hand with a small smile.

“I appreciate that dad.”

Softly squeezing your knee under the table, you turn to Colin tilting his head in your parents direction with a reassuring smile. Knowing what he was referring to, you take a breath mentally preparing yourself.

“And as part of me being more open, I think it’s a good time to tell you that I quit my job.” Blankly looking at you, your parents remain quiet as if they might not have caught what you just said.

“Did...did you just say you quit your job? The job that pays for this apartment as well as other things that aren’t free?!,” your dad asks.

“Yes but I have a new one though! I’m a writer for a local magazine here, and yea it’s a bit of a pay cut but I’m still gonna be fine and it’s something I really love.”

“I thought you loved what you did before?”

“It was nice, but it could never replace writing for me.”

“As long as you’re happy and know what you’re doing, then we support you a hundred percent. Right hunny?,” your mom smiles looking towards your father and nudging his arm.

“Right...if you’re happy, we’re happy.”

“Plus with the more flexible schedule, I’ll have more time to spend home with the baby.”

“BABY?!?!!,” your parents both shout while Colin chokes beside you.

“Baby?! When did that happen?!,” he asks looking at you with red tinted ears and heightened breathing visible through his shirt.

“Oh I’m sure you know when it happened!,” Simon glares in his direction quickly rising from his chair and making Colin hide behind you.

“GUYS! Guys relax I’m kidding! I’m not pregnant it was just a joke! I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

“Too soon bun,” your dad replies clutching his chest as your mom and Colin both breathe a sigh of relief while you laugh.

Taglist: @crushed-pink-petals-writes @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be added to the taglist, has asked to be added but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[bitchin-beskar]

The Internet is Forever Part 1

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: T (vague mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Once more, y’all have The Gay Guard gc to thank for this lovely crack. It’ll be in three parts, with this one focusing on Joe and Nicky, Part 2 will focus on Andy and Quynh, and Part 3 will focus on Booker and Nile. I’ve never actually streamed or posted videos on YouTube, so I apologize for any inaccuracies, but... this is crack, so... you should kind of be expecting that at this point.

Tags: @the-chaotic-virgo, @hi-short-for-hello, @immortalwarriors, @the-killer-queenie, @roses-are-red713, @acolorandafeeling, @bookersebastien, @fetchmeabook, @ikilledtheducks, and @goalkeepernerd I blame every single one of you for this cursed fic. They all contributed to this AU so they ALL get credit for encouraging me to write this. 

Also @perropascal!!!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please consider liking and reblogging! I love the feedback!

You know the saying, “The internet is forever?” It’s true. It’s incredibly difficult to remove anything once it’s posted on the internet. That’s why Copley had been able to find all the evidence of Andy, Joe, Nicky, Booker, and Quynh from over the years. No matter how hard they’d tried to scrub their backgrounds, a few things always fell through the cracks. And now, in the twenty-first century, with technology growing at an unprecedented rate, it was harder than ever to stay off the internet. When the team had hired Copley to cover their tracks and find them jobs, he’d known he was going to have his work cut out for him. Unfortunately, he’d never expected… this. 

***

“Nile, can you come here for a moment, please?”

Nicky’s voice called out from the kitchen, and Nile got up from where she was perched on the couch, shutting her copy of Les Misérables–in the original French, mind you, Booker was trying to help her learn another language–and tucking it under her arm, walking down the hall and into the kitchen. She stopped, frowning in confusion as she took in the scene before her. 

Nicky was standing at the kitchen counter, a plate of baklava on the countertop in front of him. The rest of the kitchen was a mess, dirty bowls and measuring cups filled the sink, and ingredients covered the counter. He had a webcam set up in front of him, along with a laptop, and Nile could see that he was streaming. 

He looked up as she entered, smiling brightly. “Nile! Come, you must try this baklava!” He holds the plate out eagerly, and Nile steps forward cautiously, carefully taking one of the little squares. 

“Why? What are you doing?” Nile asks, suspicious, as she inspects the piece of baklava, not convinced that Nicky hasn’t done something to it.

Nicky looks at her, hurt. “I just want you to try my baklava. I’m teaching the internet the proper way to make it, and I want you to tell them how it tastes!” He gestures to the live webcam. “I need you to be honest, tell me how it tastes, even if it’s bad.”

She gives him the look. She’s never once eaten something made by Nicky that didn’t taste absolutely amazing. As long as this isn’t a prank, she’s not sure there’s any way his baklava won’t taste divine. She takes a bite, and nearly moans at the taste. The buttery texture of the dough is perfectly complemented by the taste of walnuts, hazelnuts, and pistachios, and there’s a hint of orange citrus that just brings everything together. 

“Well?”

Nicky’s looking at her, his eyes wide and expectant, waiting for her to give a review. “It’s amazing Nicky, seriously,” she says, grinning as Nicky beams at her. “It’s the best baklava I’ve ever had. Try some!” Nicky picks up his own piece, taking a big bite, but before he can say anything, a voice floats over from the doorway. 

“Yeah, but how much baklava have you had, really?”

Both Nicky and Nile turn to see Joe standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk on his face. “I mean, if you’ve only ever tasted his cooking, you don’t really have anything to compare it to, do you?”

Nicky growled–seriously, growled–under his breath, and Nile looked between the two, confused. She was so used to seeing them acting like they were still in their honeymoon phase that seeing this other side of both of them threw her for a loop. She backed away from the couple, glancing at Nicky’s laptop, seeing that he was streaming to YouTube. She snorted when she read his channel name: BetterThanOliveGarden. She glanced at the live stream of comments and had to do a double-take. Based on what people were saying, apparently, Joe and Nicky had this online rivalry, and people kept debating their relationship, whether they were roommates, dating, or something else.

She watched as Nicky shoved the plate towards Joe. “How about you try my food before you critique it, Joe?” A sly smirk spread across Joe’s lips, and he took the plate, setting it down without taking any food off it. Instead, he strides forward, cupping Nicky’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Nile looks away awkwardly when Nicky moans, and she glances at the comments and sees that they’re going nuts.

People are screaming, keyboard mashing, and comments like: OHMYGOD WHAT, are popping up constantly. Nile grimaces at the webcam. She whispers to the camera, “You guys do know they’re married, right? They do this all. the. time.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder at the two men, still locked in an embrace. Joe has one hand clutching at Nicky’s hair and the other in the back pocket of his jeans, and Nicky’s got his arms thrown around Joe’s neck, both of them completely lost to the world. 

The comments are still blowing up, and Nile isn’t sure if she should actually end the video or not. She shrugs, deciding to leave it going. What’s the worst that could happen?

***

Well, apparently, Nicky and Joe forgot about the live stream. Nile only found out when she went to go and find the video, only to see that it had been taken down due to “violating YouTube content policies.” She asked Joe about it.

“Well, you see, apparently it’s frowned upon when two people decide to show their love for one another–” 

“You two started taking off each other’s clothes, didn’t you.”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

“Please tell me the two of you left the kitchen before the pants came off?”

“Of course we did, we have enough self-control–” 

“Andy came in and yelled at the two of you that you were about to do it in front of a live audience, didn’t she.”

“Um, well… yes.”

***

Nicky’s retaliation happened later that week. Joe apparently ran an art tutorial channel, where he did sketches, showing people how to draw anything from animals, to the human body, to landscape, to architecture. His channel was called ScrewMichelangelo, which had confused Nile until Joe had explained the man refused to stop flirting with Nicky, so Joe hated him. Nile was skeptical, until Joe pulled up an image of the statue David, pointing out all the similarities between the marble statue and Nicky. 

Nile was shocked. She could see the resemblance and turned to Joe in shock. “Wait, Nicky posed for Michelangelo?” 

Joe grumbled, frowning deeply. “No. I accidentally left my sketchbook in his workshop one day, and there were some sketches of Nicky inside. He used those for his inspiration. When I found out I…” Joe looked sheepish. “I was very upset. Nicky keeping me calm was the only reason Michelangelo survived my wrath.”

Nile grimaced. “Yeah, I can see why you’d be pissed.” Joe nodded, and he began to set up the webcam. 

Joe had asked her to help him out, so Nile was once again in the video, this time posing for Joe so he could show people how to draw braids. She was still trying to get through Les Misérables–seriously, she hated french–and she’d lost track of time when she was startled by the door banging open. She looked up from her book, watching as Nicky strode determinedly into the room. 

“This,” he said, coming up behind Joe and laying his hands against the sides of Joe’s neck. “Is for ruining my baklava video.”

He tipped Joe’s head back, pressing his lips against Joe’s harshly. Nile had learned from the last time. She got up, shut off the webcam, and left the room, shaking her head when the men didn’t even react when she shut the door loudly.

“Stupid horny immortal husbands.”

***

It had been a quiet week, and Nile was suspicious. Nicky and Joe had each ruined multiple of the other’s videos with intense make-out sessions, and Nile was surprised that they both hadn’t had their accounts banned from YouTube. Neither of them had done anything this week though, so Nile was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

When she woke up one morning to a YouTube notification from Joe’s account, she actually groaned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to watch what they’d gotten up to, but she figured she should probably check. 

Clicking on the video, she was surprised to see that she couldn’t actually see anything, because the video was pitch black. Suddenly, a soft light appeared, showing a shirtless Joe. He held a finger to his lips, giggling, before shining the light onto a sleeping Nicky next to him. 

“Nicolo, destati.” 

Nicky grumbled, trying to swat Joe’s camera away, but he missed. “Nicolo, habibi, destati.” Nicky groaned, rolling over and blinking up at Joe. 

“Yusuf, what time is it?”

“Three am, habibi.”

“Why Yusuf?”

Nile can hear Joe giggling. “I wanted to show everyone what I get to see every night for the rest of our lives.”

Nicky’s face softened, and he reached a hand up, pulling Joe’s face down and into the frame, and into a kiss. Joe managed to hold the camera steady, somehow. When he finally pulled away, Nicky grabbed one of Joe’s hands, tugging him down so that Joe is spooning him and his arm is wrapped tightly around Nicky.

“You’ve got your video, amore, now let’s sleep, please.”

Joe says something, but it’s muffled as he sets the camera down. The light turns off, and Nile thinks the video must be over, but when she checks, she realizes there are still hours of footage left. She fast forwards, and once the room starts to brighten, Nile realizes it must be morning. She sees as Nicky and Joe come into view, still spooning on the bed. She watches as Nicky wakes, and sees the camera still running before he reaches out to shut it off.

She shakes her head, shutting the phone off. Maybe now they’d stop ruining each other’s videos and she wouldn’t have to listen to their complaints anymore.

***

Well, Joe and Nicky had stopped bothering her. But Andy and Quynh were a whole other story.

[himbowelsh]

Drunk BOB guys??? Who are the softie hug-loving cuddlers and who are the loud and obnoxious ones? The ones who break out of their shell when intoxicated? The unusually quiet ones? The ones who throw it tf back when Usher comes on? I'd love to hear some thots

oooooh my god okay okay, here are the biggest thots

Richard Winters:  Umm, alcohol whom? Has never been drunk in his life and doesn’t intend to start now. He gets all the buzz he needs off the exhilaration of a brisk jog, or a cool glass of water.

Lewis Nixon: The Literal Alcoholic. Thinks he’s more fun when he’s drunk than when he’s sober; is actually not a very fun drunk. Is even worse when he’s sobering up! At this point, he has to have some liquor in his system 99% of the time, otherwise his body feels like it’s out to destroy itself. (Alcoholism is a disease, boys and girls.) Nix buzzed is Nix at peak performance; he’s friendly, efficient, and capable. Nix drunk is a slowly spiralling plane crash. He usually passes out before he hits the ground, but god forbid he gets there, because...  it’s messy. He can occasionally be a messy, emotional, overdramatic drunk, but only when he’s really overdone it.

Carwood Lipton: The Respectable Drunk. A very calm, kind of sleepy drunk. Doesn’t get drunk often, even though he holds his liquor well, because he doesn’t prefer it  ---   when he’s had a few, he prefers to just watch the people around him, smiling and only half paying attention. His mind tends to wander when he’s drunk. Drunk Lip does have one fatal weakness:  if he’s out with his partner, and his partner shows even the slightest bit of encouragement, Lip will get riled up very quickly. He goes from calm drunk to horny drunk in a very short time; will eagerly press his partner up against the wall if given the chance. (Drunk Lip is way more inclined to PDA.)

Ron Speirs: The Soft Drunk. Literally, he’s such a tender drunk; he has absolutely no balance, and is a little confused, but he’s sweet, okay? Ron is far more expressive when he’s drunk; he gets touchier, ramblier, kinder. Drunk Ron has faith in humanity where Sober Ron gave up long ago. He’s a really relaxed drunk, unlikely to go off and do anything wild, but he wants to be around other people  ---  around his friends. Ron never has a good time when he drinks alone. (Plus, he’s got a reputation to uphold, and only certain people are allowed to see him with his guards down.)

Harry Welsh: The Bionic Drunk. Nothing can injure him; nothing can kill him. Many things have tried. Harry has done so much dumb shit when intoxicated, things that would have wounded him in a heartbeat if he was sober, and has never gotten a scratch to show for it. He’s a very fun drunk  ---  he laughs a lot, is very affectionate, and super pleasant to be around  ---  but common sense and self-preservation goes out the window. Look out, because he might too, if someone dared him.

Eugene Roe: The Changeling Drunk. Who is this man and what did he do with Doc Roe? Drunk Gene is...  an experience, alright? His inhibitions are gone. Suddenly, his personality has been turned up to eleven; he’s extroverted, he’s exciting, he laughs loudly and jokes around...  he’s dancing on top of the bar, holy shit. Is a very fun time, but you have to keep an eye on him, because he sometimes goes off and does something insane, a-la-Sober-Speirs. Drunk Gene fears nothing, including himself.

Joe Toye: The Depressed Drunk. Zoinks, Scoob. Drunk Joe is actually willing to talk about his emotions  ---  and maybe he shouldn’t, because he’s got some sad stuff going on there, man. Drinking is supposed to numb your worries, but Joe often finds the opposite is the case; his burdens somehow get heavier, harder to ignore, and if he’s allowed to slip into them he’ll end up dwelling in them for the rest of the night. So long as he’s around buddies who are actively keeping his spirits up, he’s a decent drunk guy to have around. If neglected, however, Drunk Joe may shed a few tears into his Guinness.

George Luz: The Showman Drunk. His jokes and impressions get way sloppier, but somehow he’s twice as hilarious, so he can get away with it. Drunk George is way more animated, with a seemingly endless supply of energy; he teases everybody, he laughs the loudest in the room, and he really seems like he’s just come out to have a good time. The kind of buddy you want to get drunk with.  (Be warned: comes with a rarely activated Depressed Drunk mode, when he shuts off and wants to be left the hell alone. Maybe his battery runs out after a while or something. During this time, George is feeling a lot of things very strongly; this condition is best treated with a cozy blanket and glass of water. Very rare, but once you’ve seen him in this state, you can never unsee it.)

Bill Guarnere: The Loud Drunk. Is there a difference between sober Bill and drunk Bill? Debateable. Drunk Bill is just Bill turned up to eleven. He doesn’t actually get drunk a lot  ---  somehow he ends up the designated driver, and minds less than he should  ---  but social drinking usually leads to Bill shouting over a crowded bar. He’s usually up for a good time, he just has no volume control. (Also, the accent. It thickens. Can someone translate, please? Is he speaking English? What the hell is he saying?)

Babe Heffron: The Weird Drunk. Drunk Babe will break it down on the dance floor (should he? maybe not) and do his president rooster impression in public, but he’s equally likely to just...  confuse everybody else. He’s got a lot of thoughts. A lot of feelings. Some of them are about the meaning of life, some of them are about the best kind of sandwich bread, some of them are about whether the Loch Ness Monster has a favorite type of bird.  He talks so much when he’s drunk, and will ramble anyone’s ear off about any of these topics. Escape while you can.

Joseph Liebgott: The Volatile Drunk. Really a mixed bag; you never know what you’re going to get from him. Sometimes, Joe can be a very fun drunk, the life of the party, willing to do anything anybody dares him to. That’s if he’s drinking in a good mood. If he starts drinking in a sour mood, it’ll only get worse from there. Honestly, he can be a mean drunk. He lashes out at people, gets angry, sometimes starts crying...  it’s not great. You have to keep tabs on him while he’s drinking, because if his mood looks like it’s dipping, he should not be allowed any more alcohol.

David Kenyon Webster: The Emotional Drunk. He’s just...  got a lot of feelings! And he really wants to talk about them! Becomes extremely talkative while drunk; this is not always a good thing, because he’s pronouncedly less eloquent. Drunk Web is very passionate about politics...  and the environment... and marine biology...  and the commercialization of public holidays. He has something to say about most things. Sometimes he’s just muttering to himself, and no one can keep up with what he’s saying. Makes so many notes, either in his phone or scribbling them down on napkins, because he’s “going to need to remember this”, but they’re all illegible come morning. Feels things very strongly. Might cry.

Johnny Martin: The Feral Drunk. Wrangling Johnny when he’s had a few too many is an experience. Holy shit, this man knows no fear. Drunk Johnny has 5x less patience for everyone’s bullshit, and wants them to know it. The amount of bar fights this man has gotten into... the best part is, he’s never lost. (Yeah, because he has Bull right there to make sure his drunk friend doesn’t get himself killed.)

Frank Perconte: The Confused Drunk. Only kind of knows where he is. Complains a lot; puts things down, misplaces them, and blames someone else for taking them. Drunk Perco has a ‘Real Housewives at Brunch’ mode, only activated when someone gives him tequila; he will scream and throw drinks. Otherwise he’s just kind of tiresome and needs someone to make sure he makes it home okay.

Floyd Talbert: The Mom Drunk. Yes, he did just do four shots of gin, but he’s still going to make sure everyone else is drinking water and not wandering off with anyone creepy. Drunk Floyd’s got an eye on everyone; he’s kind of the mama hen wrangling all her chicks, making sure they don’t stray far. He parties like a frat boy, but will wrangle everyone like a girl scout mother. 

Shifty Powers: The Missing Drunk. What the hell? What happened, where did he go? He was sitting right there a second ago  ---   when he’s drunk, Shifty tends to wander. He just likes the quiet. His friends will always find him in bizarre places, after a few minutes of panicked searching. Once, he was laying on top of a car; once he was on the club’s roof. He’s fine, he knows where he is, he’s just thinking about stuff.

Donald Malarkey: The Absurdly Lucky Drunk. He’s got some Irish faeries looking out for him or something, because Drunk Don is literally living his best life. If he gambles, he’s going to win. If he misplaces his wallet, he’s going to find it with an extra $30 inside. If he trips, he’s going to land in an attractive person’s lap. Everyone wants to be in proximity to Drunk Don, not only because he’s a pretty good  (if emotional)  time, but because some of his luck might rub off.

Skip Muck: The Giggly Drunk. What’s so funny? No one knows. Skip might not even know, but he’s going to laugh anyways, because everything is hilarious. He somehow tells even better jokes when drunk, but he laughs at them himself, so that measures it out. He effortlessly makes himself the life of the party; Skip will get up and karaoke with the band, cheer all his friends on in their dumb shit, drink way more than he reasonably should...  going out drinking with Skip is always a great time.

Herbert Sobel: The Alarmingly Fun Drunk. No, I’m not going to elaborate. Fill in the mental images yourself.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Drunk

In which David gets drunk and hurts himself

warnings: cursing, mention of death, alcohol, general stupidity

a/n: for the anon who requested an imagine from my Drabble list. For some reason it took me a while to write this and I’m still not 100% satisfied with it. But anyway... enjoy!

5. Call 911 this isn’t funny!

15. Wake up! Please, please wake up!

21. Can I kiss you?

word count: 2.5k

Music was blasting through the club, bouncing off the walls back to the people on the dance floor. It was friday night and Y/N and her friends had decided to go out. Y/N was seated at the bar next to Matt and Corinna, sipping her drink and enjoying the music that was currently playing. She watched her friends dancing in the crowd having a good time and smiled to herself. The love these moments filled her with was relieving. Moments, in which none of them was supposed to fill out a certain role for someones videos. They were just here to let loose and enjoy themselves. She focused on David showing off the most ridiculous dance moves next to Zane. She was so glad he let loose for tonight. It took her an hour to convince him not to take his camera with him today. The vlogger was always extremely focused on his work, trying to catch every bit of his and his friends' lives on camera to show it to the world. He loved his job and that was the main reason why he couldn't let go of his camera so easily. The other being that going to a party was the easiest way to get funny material out of his friends. Y/N saw this as sort of a teambuilding event for their group of friends. A break from all the social media and job pressure all of them found themselves under pretty much every day. So when she finally suggested to make this night a no technology one, not even mobile phones, she was surprised by the reactions of the vlog squad. They actually liked the idea.

Y/N checked the time: 2:49 am. They had been here for almost 4 hours now. Though her friends on the dancefloor didn't seem to mind, Y/N herself felt the alcohol wearing off and the tiredness kicking in. She rested her head on Corinnas shoulder sighing loudly to catch the blonde’s attention.

‘’You alright?’’ Corinna tried looking into her friends eyes, but struggled since they were closed and nuzzled into her neck.

‘’Yeah… just tired i guess.’’, Y/N shrugged, ‘’I think I’m gonna head home soon. What about you guys?’’

Now she caught Matts attention as well. He took in the tired ladies in front of him feeling a yawn creep up in his throat. He chuckled looking back to the dance floor as he watched his friends enjoying the evening.

‘’I’m down… though I don't know if those goofs are.’’ The tall boy pointed towards Zane and Scotty twerking on a bunch of girls, who were just laughing at the scene in front of them. But who would blame them? They did look ridiculous moving to the beat of the music and failing miserably as the alcohol had probably eliminated their feeling of rhythm throughout the past two hours.

‘’But now that I see… whatever that is’’, Matt waved his hand at the crowd, ‘’you might be right.’’ he shot the girls a crooked smile before jumping off his barstool and headed towards the crazy people they all called their friends.

Corinna cleared her throat: ‘’Are you really ok? I’ve noticed you watching David the whole evening. And don’t tell me it doesn't bother you that he was dancing with this random girl the entire night.’’ She looked at the girl next to her sympathetically as she caressed her shoulder with her hands.

Corinna and Y/N had known each other long before david and the vlog squad became a thing. They grew up together, living in the same neighborhood and visiting high school together. It was an understatement to say that Corinna knew Y/N. They had practically never parted ever since they met as kids. It was just natural for them to know each other's secrets and fears, including crushes, boyfriends and all that other stuff. Which was also the reason, why the blonde was so concerned for her best friends who just happened to have a small crush on David Dobrik himself. It was nothing serious, Y/N had literally told her that she thought he was cute but she wouldn't want anything to jeopardize the amazing friendship they had. So it had soon been swapped under the carpet. But noticing as her best friend had watched the boy across the club the entire evening, corinna couldn't help but ask.

‘’I… I don't know what to feel right now, Corinna, I’m tipsy and tired and honestly just scared to do something stupid, so…. Just leave it please.’’

Y/N watched Matt talking to their friends pointing towards the exit and laughing along with the rest of them. Shortly after, David came dancing out of the crowd mimicking a rope, he pulled himself closer to the girls at the bar. He didn't stop dancing while he started talking: ‘’Why do you alrrrrready wanna leaveeeee Y/N/N?’’

He dragged a couple letters in his sentence and the girls could tell, he wasn't as sober anymore. Y/N chuckled, watching the dark haired boy bust some pretty bad moves in front of them.

‘’Because I’m tired and want to go home. It’s late anyway.’’ She tapped her wrist to emphasize her words and made her way towards the exit after seeing that the rest of the group had gotten off the dancefloor as well.

They were all walking on the sidewalk cracking their usual jokes and just enjoying their time together while debating whether they should grab something to eat before getting an uber home or just going there right away.

After a couple minutes of walking, Zane started jumping at the walls and street lights, pretending he was spiderman and annoying pretty much every member of the group. They had decided to drop by IN-N-OUT and to get there by foot, they had at least 20 more minutes to go. Y/N was just concerned that he was accidentally going to jump on the street and most certainly die. Zane creamed louder, making weird noises and trying to climb a stop sign the group had just came across. The dark haired guy fell a couple of times stumbling towards the next obstacle he could climb. He had jumped on top of a small wall next to a fountain when he screamed again.

‘’David, David come here I’m Spiderman! You're gonna be saved from me!! Here come here I wanna jump across the fountain with you!’’

David smirked drunkenly and made his way to the fountain high fiving Zane, who explained the plan to him.

‘’This is not going to end well.’’ Matt shook his head.

Y/N had to admit this was probably not the stupidest idea Zane had ever had, but knowing that David was not capable of making smart decisions himself anymore, she had concern written all over her face. Normally David was the one holding his friends back from making dangerous moves while intoxicated. Somebody else had to fulfill that role tonight. But neither was anybody sober enough nor attempting to stop those two idiots from killing themselves. Y/N couldn't do anything but watch as Zane jumped off the wall with David on his back. For a moment it looked like they could actually make it over the water but soon after that thought entered Y/N’s head, Zane slipped on the edge of the fountain. The boys fell backwards into the water, followed by a loud scream and water splashing everywhere.

‘’Shit!’’ One of the friends screamed. Y/N heard a couple ‘OMGs’ thrown her way but her surroundings were a blur the second she saw Zane burying David under his body and pushing not only him but also his head towards the cement floor of the fountain. She rushed towards her friends. Zane hat gotten up already laughing at his stunt. The rest of the group laughed as well. None of them noticed that David had yet to get up and laugh with them, but nothing happened. Y/N jumped into the water attempting to get her friend out the water but failing miserably. Matt came running to her and helped get David up and out of the fountain.

‘’Come on Dave…’’, she muttered to herself as they had finally gotten his head out of the water. Her friends were still busy hyping up Zane who stood there in full glory enjoying the applause of his friends who just complimented the guy on his stupidity.

David did not move. He was out cold. The fall must have knocked his head on the floor pretty hard, making him unconscious. Y/N couldn't believe her friends. How could they be so distracted and not see the seriousness of this situation? Anger rushed through her body as she shook davids shoulders in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness.

‘’Wake up! Please, please wake up!’’ She pulled on his shirt slapping and punching against Matt’s chest while he pulled her away from David to calm her down. That caught the attention of the others. They stopped dead in their tracks as they saw David’s unconscious body laying on the floor.

‘’Call 911 this isn't funny!’’ Y/N screamed desperately after calming down a little bit. But looking in all of her friends shocked faces made the adrenaline come rushing back through her veins again. Toddy was the first one to react, kneeling down next to his friend and looking for injuries.

‘’What are you all standing there? Do something!’’ Y/N was furious.

‘’Well we can’t…’’ Mariah trailed off, ‘’ This was a no phones event, remember?’’ The girl guiltily trained her eyes on the floor inspecting her shoes closely.

The group looked at each other. ‘’One of you dipshits must have brought their phone anyway!’’, somebody shouted, but Y/N dazed off into her panic again.

This situation couldn't have been worse. Her friend and crush was currently dying on the sidewalk and none of them were able to do anything about it.

15 minutes passed but to Y/N it felt like hours. All of this would’ve never happened if she had not suggested this stupid no phones policy. Sure, the evening had been fun for the most part BECAUSE of the lack of phones or cameras, but that didn't change the situation the group found themselves in right now. Corinna was sitting by Y/N’s side and comforted her best friend who had started crying five minutes in. She was a mess. Her hair was wet and the fear was visible in her glossy eyes. The Best friends sat there for a while hugging each other and glancing back to David every second to check if something had changed. Nothing. The desperation in everyone was balling up, making them unable to move or even say anything.

Y/N twitched, noticing a faint siren in the distance. Soon after, an ambulance came rushing down the street and stopping right by them. Everything happened extremely fast and within one minute Y/N found herself at the door of the ambulance explaining to the paramedic what had happened and why she should be able to ride with David to the hospital.

‘’Sorry, Dear. Only family members get to ride in the ambulance.’’, The gray bearded man explained to her. This was bullshit. After all she was the one who saved his ass. She tried a couple more arguments but the man wouldn't let her in.

‘’She's his girlfriend… does that count?’’ Matt came up behind her smiling at the man lightly. The paramedic raised an eyebrow and studied Y/N’s face again, looking for any sign of lying but didn't seem to find any.

‘’Alight, get in.’’ He made his way into the ambulance and motioned for her to climb in.

Y/N whispered a swift ‘thank you’ towards Matt before stepping into the Ambulance and driving off towards the hospital.

04:01 am. The clock seemed to move slower than ever and every second Y/N was seated in the waiting area, felt like an hour passing by. Her eyes were focused on the green door, David had been pushed through about 30 minutes ago. She didn't know where her friends were and she didn't know how David was doing. And the worst part, she didn’t know how long this was going to take. The adrenaline was wearing off slowly and Y/N felt herself drifting in and out of sleep every now and then. She rubbed her eyes and got a cup of coffee to keep herself from falling asleep. That was when the doors opened again and a woman in a white coat headed towards her.

‘’David Dobrik?’’, she asked nodding towards Y/N.

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Please come with me.’’ She motioned for her to follow her into the hallway David had been pushed in before and stopped in front of room number 406.

‘’Mr. Dobrik is conscious now. He has a bad concussion which is also the reason why we will have to keep him here for a couple more days. You can see him now.’’ The doctor shot her a smile before rushing through the hallway again.

Y/N’s palms were sweaty as she pushed down the door handle and moved towards the hospital bed on the left side of the room. As soon as she saw him, she broke down crying. The girl walked over to her friend falling on top of him and hugging him tightly.

‘’I thought you were dead.’’, she whispered in his ear and took in his scent, which was now mixed with alcohol and sweat.

‘’Don't ever do that again. You had me worried sick! Those were the worst minutes of my life, do you understand? Don't you ever almost die on me again.’’

‘’Hey it's alright, I’m alright.’’ he smiled warmly, stroking Y/N’s back and pulling her into a hug once again.

‘’I was worried sick.’’, she repeated.

Her eyes started to water and soon, hot tears were streaming down here face. She had never noticed how deeply she really cared for David. The thought of him not being around her anymore was tearing her heart apart to the point where her chest was hurting badly. She looked down athim, taking in his eyes, his messy hair, and his lips. His lips that were basically begging her to kiss him right now. She scolded herself for the thought that came rushing through her head, but then again, it was nice to imagine being even closer to him than now. Y/N just now realised how close their faces were from each other. A half, maybe one inch parted their faces from each other and made it even harder for her to resist the urge to press her lips against his.

‘’Can… Can I kiss you?’’ Y/N was hesitant. Looking into his eyes curiously she prayed to God, that David wouldn’t burst the bubble of love and concern she was in.

But he inched closer, stopping so close to her lips that she could basically taste them.

‘’You can.’’ David smiled and closed his eyes. He pushed her head towards his gently until their lips finally met.

[cianmars]

Knightrook and teacher/student au. *obviously this is a platonic thing* Rogers as teacher and his most challenging student... his daughter. (or whatever you fancy doing with it) Pretty please and thank you

I accidentally wrote a long fic for this... whoops..... (also there’s some Hooked Queen in this)

AO3

(So: Emma and Hook aren’t married they split up in 6x14 ‘Page 23’, Gold and Belle are alive, and Regina and Rogers are sort of together.)

At this point no one was surprised when a curse hit the United Realms, the separate realms were so used to them, and at least they had had a little bit of peace before hand.

Also unsurprisingly this new curse was completely different than they had ever faced. This time they were cut off from each other, Hyperion Heights and Storybrooke were together, but the cursed people could not see the other realms.

Most of the people were curse, they only knew the lives of their new identities, and some of the members of the town had been made younger, and a few of them had new cursed lives but were wide awake:

Alice, Wish!Henry (or as he went by Harry ), Emma, Margot, August, and a handful of others had all been turned into 15 year olds.

While Regina and Hook had both been made teachers alongside Snow who was already a teacher.

They were working together with David, Zelena, Henry, Ella, Belle, Sabine, and Gold, trying to break the curse, but so far were unsuccessful. They just knew they had to be subtle, they couldn’t let on that they knew, they wouldn’t let their families possibly be hurt because of them.

So for now Rogers was an art teacher at Hyperion Heights High, Mary Charming was a teacher at the adjoined elementary, and Regina Mills was, of course one of the leader of the school, deputy head, she was much too busy to be the principal.

“Mr Rogers, can I speak to you a moment, please?”

James Rogers raised turned to look as he heard the voice. He had to hide a grin as he saw Regina Mills stood in the doorway. “Of course.” He turned back to his class. “Okay, everyone just, just get on with your paintings while I talk to Ms Mills.”

The class’s reaction was automatic. “Oooo.”

He rolled his eyes, typical teenagers, even if they were a little right.

He firmly shut the door behind them and moved out of the view of the window in the door, he moved Regina with him, his hand on her waist. “Hello Ms Mills.”

“Mr Rogers.” A matching smile appear on her face. “We have to be subtle about this, I don’t want Harry or Alice catching a hint of us.”

“They won’t.”

“Then how come your daughter nearly walked in on us when she was sent to my office yesterday?”

James sighed deeply. “I blame the curse making her a kid who is constantly in trouble.”

“I think she’s got a lot more pirate in her than you ever wanted.”

“There’s something I could say in response, but we’re in school, I don’t think it would be appropriate.” He smirked and watched her roll her eyes. He couldn’t resist lowering his head and stealing a kiss, ever the pirate himself.

Regina bit her lip, she couldn’t believe that she ever decided to fall for him, though there hadn’t been much of a decision she supposed. This Hook was different, he was kind and funny, and loving, and hers. She kissed him again.

“So after tonight’s meeting with the others, I was thinking maybe we could go for a drink? Harry’s already decided to go to the Charmings’ - some sort of video games, comic book movies, and junk food marathon sleepover thing.”

“Alice is at Margot’s.”

“I know.” She smiled somewhat smugly. “So?”

“That sounds good to me then.” He ducked his head to be able to kiss her, slower this time, able to savour it until that night, but then he heard hell break out inside his classroom.

They rushed back into the room.

He had left the room for one minute, a bloody minute, one single minute and his classroom was already in chaos. Paint was being thrown all around, hitting each other, but the furniture and classroom seemed to be pretty clear otherwise.

“Oi!” He shouted before being hit by pink paint. The classroom stilled and went silent. He quickly wiped it from near his eyes. He glared around the room looking for who threw that paint. He spotted the tube of pink first, thrown by the who was clearly the main perpetrator,  then realised who it was holding it, he groaned internally.

“Alice Rogers, stay after class. Anyone with a tube of paint currently in their hands go to the caretaker’s office and apologise to him over the mess you have all decided to make,” there wasn’t really much around the classroom but he wasn’t really sure on how to deal with it, “and look forward to spending two nights tomorrow in detention with me.” He noticed a couple of girls who had clearly not been involved stand up and join the group heading out, giggling quietly and smiling volunteering to spend more time with the rugged teacher, but he was too angry to care right then.

To his surprise Emma also stood up, but she didn’t have a lick of paint on her either, he knew he should question that but he was too pissed off.

“I’ll accompany them.” Regina told him, but in a tone which was also clearly a warning to the kids, “and then they’ll be coming to my office for a little chat.”

James watched them all leave, and he had thought it would be a good day, clearly his daughter had other ideas. “Okay, everybody get back to work, anyone who’s not finished their work can look forward to makeup work.” He watched the kids all come go back to their work, bar Alice who just stood there, he picked up her work and materials, then “You can sit at my desk to do your work.”

“But dad-”

He gave her a look and watched her sit down. “No, Starfish.” His voice was firm, but she needed to hear the nickname, to realise that he didn’t hate her or anything.

“But-”

“Nope.”

“Emma didn’t do it.” She blurted out. “She didn’t do anything someone else did she’s blaming herself-”

“Alice, you can tell me after class, but right now from the dad-point-of-view: you’re so, so , grounded, and from the reach point of view, you’re in big trouble.” He sighed deeply as he stood up but evidently he had made his anger apparent when she didn’t talk back or argue anymore.

Alice bit her lip as the class emptied the classroom, after her father dismissed them all, and handed out all of the detentions. She carried on painting, a watercolour of some fairytale style tower like the one in Tangled, she could see her father approaching but kept her head down ignoring him.

James perched on the edge of his desk watching Alice still then carry on painting, of course she was going to be stubborn about not being the one to start the conversation, he could only blame himself for her stubbornness. He had quite liked looking after her as a teenager, especially in a place where she could go out and explore places, and have friends, even her being able to go to school and get in trouble there. He was terrified all of the time, but he had learnt that that was just being a parent of a teenager. He coughed gently, then again when she decided not to look up.

“Alice Rogers. Your behaviour today was wrong, I had left the classroom for two minutes, and I come back in to find you had started a paint fight. Do you have any, any , reasons to have done that?”

Alice shook her head.

James sighed loudly. “ Starfish ,” he stressed imploringly, “please, I need at least some reason, one I can give to people in charge to make sure that you’re not kicked out or excluded.”

“But you taught me not to snitch!” She protested.

James threw his head back. “Not in regards to me!” He should have put that part in, or his cursed self should have, considering he had no memory of actually teaching her the no snitching policy, even if it was a very him thing to tell her. “Alice,I know that sometimes you find the school’s rules…. restrictive ,” he chose his words carefully, “but this is something which is beyond your normal challenging behaviour in school, this isn’t like you, there’s got to be a reason.”

Alice paused for a moment debating all of the factors. “I was sticking up for Emma.”

“What do you mean?”

“This dic- I mean, this lad has been picking on Emma, because of her being fostered by Mrs Charming and her husband. So I threw paint at him to get him to shut up.”

James frowned. He had made friends with David and Snow through Regina, and with Emma too, he hated that even in the curse Emma was being made to feel unwanted, it was why they were trying to see if there was anyone who could be targeting and who hated her. “Has this been going on for long?”

“The past week or so, I’ve tried to stop him but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me getting kicked out by fighting him, and Emma doesn’t want to do anything that could get her moved. Emma’s my friend I don’t want her to be hurt by anyone, especially not someone with a goldfish for a brain.”

James bit his lip trying not to smile at her gestures, her insults, or out of pure pride that she was sticking up for her friend, curse or no curse. “But what about this time? Was there something different, something more, that made you decide paint was the only option?”

Alice twisted her hands in front of her debating yet again whether to tell her father something or not. “He was… he was saying a lot of things, I was trying to get him to shut up… then he said that her mum must have hated her so much that she didn’t want her.”

James sigh yet again, this time softly, he hated Alice’s biological mother, and he hated that she didn’t have a loving one at all. He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her so that she was close to his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry Starfish. For all of this. I’m going to sort it out, I’ll fix it.” He soothed, and was relieved where she stayed where she was, not pulling away. “Come on, let's go home.”

“So I’m not grounded anymore?” He head popped up hopefully.

James chuckled. “You’re grounded but me and you will just have a movie night, you’ve still got a detention Wednesday for throwing paint, but- you say Emma didn’t do anything?” Alice nodded her head. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t have one. And Ali?”

“Yeah?” She just hoped that she wasn’t somehow wasn’t about to be grounded doubly.

“I’m proud of you. You stood up for your friend, that was the good and honourable thing to do. I’ll make sure the lad stops bullying Emma, love.”

“Does this mean I get to pick the movie and get lots of candy.”

James let out a breath of laughter. “Sure, Starfish.” He would reschedule with Regina, he was going to spend the night having a movie marathon with his daughter, and resisting the temptation to not give her a detention at all.

[campcampforsocialjustice]

Unproblematic Camp Camp: Escape From Camp Campbell

The episode opens straight away on David and Max together.  That way, people don’t have to get their hopes up that this will be a show about cute little bunnies.  Straight and to the point.

David: Can you believe it Max?  We’re getting not one, not three but two new campers today?

Max: Yep, it’s really truly horrifying.

David: Horrifying.  But you can make friends with them!

This change makes David a nicer person to Max who needs a lot of love and attention.

Max: Yes, yes I am.  I just need a lot of love and attention because I’m shy and acting out.

David: I see.  Is that why you’re out here anyway?

Max: Yes, that way if the new campers are big and scary I will know how to deal with it and it won’t be so scary.

Here we see that Max is aware of his fears but is handling them in a safe and healthy manner.

David now gives Max a hug and Max accepts it openly and happily.

The bus approaches and David runs up waving.

The bus stops.

You will have noticed we removed the senseless violence.  Violence is never funny.

Quartermaster: Kids are here.

Nikki: Ha!

Nikki inhales loudly, but not too loudly so as not to offend the hard of hearing.

Nikki: Oh yeah, smell that nature.  Oh, I do like nature.

We removed ‘the stuff’ because it sounds too much like a certain swear word and it would be bad for people to swear.

David: Well, hello there, little one.  You must be Nikki

You will notice David doesn’t assume Nikki’s gender.

Nikki gives David a strictly platonic hug.

David: Why thank you Nikki, I do love strictly platonic hugs.

Nikki: Me too.  We’re going to get on so well.  I am so glad to see that there’s a good role model here.

Max: David is a good role model but it’s important to remember that anyone can teach great lessons, especially at Cameron Campbell’s Camp Campbell.

Neil: Can I have a hug too?

David: I think we should go for a group hug?  Now I understand you’re here for Adventure Camp and you’re here for Science Camp.

Neil: Yes, I love science.

Nikki: And I love adventure.

Max: That’s very cool of both of you.  I really like anime, sewing and having a supportive family myself.  I’m so glad to be here because my parents love me so very much.

David: They sure do.  It is important to remember that all parents love their children so all children should love their parents.  Now Max, how about you don’t leave my side for the rest of the day.

Max: I would like that very much, David, because you are such a great role model and I want to be just like you when I grow up.

David: Why wait?

Max: Because I’m too afraid that my bad attitude will make you look bad and I don’t want anyone to think badly of you.

David: You can start by helping with the tour of the camp site.

Max: This is our flag pole.  As you can see David is giving it the offical Camp Campbell salute.

This has been changed to something less sexual like the hand shape that form a duck in shadow puppetry.  David doesn’t teach children sexual things here.

David: Next to our flagpole is our mess hall, which is connected to the Quartermaster Store.

Max: You will be glad to hear that the Quartermaster is a very nice man.

Nikki: Wow.  Everyone here is so friendly.  I feel my adventurous spirit raising.

David: It’s here that Gwen and I will serve meals, hold announcements and occasionally take part in camp activities.  Tell them how much you love it Max.

You will notice that we’ve removed the implication of child labour and corrected David’s language.  We were shocked when we realised that the original version was part of the episode.

Max: It’s almost as great as being home with my family who love me very much.

David: And now for you to meet Gwen

David: Good Morning Gwen!

Gwen: Good morning David!

Space Kid: This is similar to being in outer space.

Gwen: You shouldn’t be up there.  You could get hurt.

Space Kid: Oh, I hadn’t considered that.  I will get down immediately, please.

David: As you can see Gwen is a very competent co councillor who I could never imagine being without, though if she does wish to leave I would be very understanding and caring.

Nikki: It looked like he was having fun.  I’m glad that you pointed out that he was in danger so that I will not emulate such bad behaviour.

Gwen: Don’t worry.  It will be punished.

David: We will tell him off gently in private.  Right now, it’s important that we introduce you and orientate you to camp!

Gwen: I’ll fetch the laserdisc!

David: Why don’t you handle the others in their afternoon activities? I just really want to give these campers a bit of time to themselves so they don’t feel scared.

Max: I would love to stay here and help since working alone with you is such fun.

Neil: Will someone talk to me about Science Camp?

David: We will get to that.  It is good to be patient.

Neil: Sorry, I hadn’t considered that.

David: This video was put together by our founder Cameron Campbell who I don’t have a crush on.  He is manly but don’t stereotype and think that that means he’s not kind.

Neil: I wold never.  As a jew, I often come across stereotyping and know how dangerous it can be.

David: Oh my.  I hope that you won’t meet any nasty sterotypes here at Cameron Campbell’s camp campbell.

Max: But there’s no one nasty here.

You will note that we removed the line about saving lives.  We don’t want people to think there might be some danger that could be saved from.  This could badly effect people with paranoia.

Campbell: Since I’m here now, I should tell them myself how wonderful everything is and how easy life will be.

Campbell: I’m here because I love this camp and want to see everyone have a wonderful time.

David: Like I was even wondering.  Not when you’re clearly a loving kind person.

Gwen: Yes, we both admire you as all should admire their elders.

Nikki: Hey, brawny guy, I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name and hope you don’t mind my nickname.  Anyway, I have a question about adventure camp.

Neil: Yes, I feel we’ve been patient for long enough.

Nikki: As children we find it a lot harder than adults do so we’re sorry but you must give us a little bit more forgiveness.

David: I know.  I’ve been working with children since I was 16 though I understand that you’re speaking from nerves.  The first day can be so very hard.  Now what is your question?

Campbell: We should tell them outside so that they can see more of nature.

David: That’s a great suggestion.

They head outside and see all the wonderful camp activities.

Gwen: we have exstreme sports camp

Ered does a perfect skate board trick.

Gwen: Magic camp

Harrison is shown doing a magic trick. Nerris cheers for him like a best friend should.

Gwen: art camp

Rudolf is shown drawing an actual painting of dog and a flower: a very pretty one at that.

Gwen: theatre camp

Preston now female is doing a lovely pose.

Please note that this is not a sexy pose you creeps.

Gwen: other magic camp.

Nerris plays gently with her sword that’s clearly made of foam.

Nerris: Harrison would you like to play this sort of magic with me?

Harrison: That would be truly delightful my good chum.

Gwen: And of course, since you’ve been waiting so patiently, here’s Science Camp

Science camp is a wonderful experience bought with David’s own money because he knows he’ll want to support the children so much and loves children.

We have removed the badness of the camp because it implies that all white men with lots of money are nasty.  We debated for a long time whether David should pay for science camp or not and came to the conclusion that it’s important that we show David as platonically loving.

Neil: Wow, this is even better than I imagined.

David: I’m so glad that I can make you feel loved.  It’s very important that children feel platonically loved.  I even have a song about how many things this camp lovingly has.

Max: Like the wonderful friends I made today.  I know.  We should play a game.

Nikki: What kind of a game?

Max: We’re going to pretend to run away.  Don’t worry.  David is familiar with this game so it won’t scare him.  What we’re going to do this time is try to reach the bus, give the impression that we’ll hijack it.

Nikki: This sounds like my kind of adventure.

Neil: As long as it’s just a game I’m in.

Nikki: Hey David, you mind singing that song?

Gwen: Oh yes, he should.

We have removed the angry black woman stereotype part of Gwen’s personality because it’s racist.

David: There’s a place I know that’s tucked away, a place where you and I can stay.  Where we can go to laugh and play…

Gwen: Kids are gone.

David: Oh my, what a trick Max has played.  I wonder where he’s hiding?

Gwen: Yes.  Max is such a problem child.

David: Better run after him.

Please note that David doesn’t suggest that the brown child is being a bad influence on the campers.

David catches them and the episode ends with everyone laughing.

Mod Max

[trashyazeohane]

Five shots too many - Adult!Maxvid!AU

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

The morning after

Summary: Time to pay the price of mistakes.

Additional comments: Not beta-read, angst.

You can also read it on AO3. Enjoy!

***

He never was a fan of birds chirping loudly in the mornings. Some people maybe liked it, even adored it or – God, forbid it – woke up especially to listen to them. But not Max. Max didn’t particularly hate them, but well, he didn’t like them either.

Right now, though, right now he wanted to kill every one of them. Because every sound now was ten time worse than usual.

Max groaned, feeling the pounding sound resonating inside his brain as he slowly lifted his eyelids. It was definitely early – with the barely visible Sun streaming its light through half-opened curtains. The sky was dotted with few clouds, one of which was currently almost in front of the bright star.

Typical morning. Even the headache wasn’t that surprising to be honest. But the surroundings were. Especially the smell, the quilt touching his body, the warmness next to him, the whole ordeal of this room.

It wasn’t Max’s dorm room. It didn’t smell like pizza and Mountain Dew.

Where…

Almost like on cue something in front of him moved. Or maybe it was all inside Max’s brain. But whatever it was, it flipped some switch inside his brain, bringing all memories back.

The night. The alcohol. The lights. David’s body against his own. Those damned sweet lips. That need. Hot skin beneath his fingertips. Moans, whispers and whimpers resonating through his spine. Those beautiful eyes.

Fuck.

Max lifted his hand, trying to do something with his face – didn’t matter whether it was brushing his eyes or moving his fringe away or pinching his nose. Just whatever. Yet his hand touched something soft, maybe a little bit sticky, but definitely warm.

Max glanced down.

David was laying in front of Max with his back turned to him. His half covered shoulders were moving rhythmically up and down, showing Max that he was still peacefully sleeping. Gladly.

Max froze for a brief second as his breath hitched, stopped, crashed inside his throat. His heart skipped a beat and the following one was louder than anything he had heard in his entire life. He felt like the whole neighborhood could hear it. But David didn’t wake up, didn’t even twitch.

Slowly, he exhaled the air he was holding inside his lungs.

Okay. Okay. Okay…

So last night really had happened. It hadn’t been just a figment of his imagination or some lucid and feverish dream. It had been reality. He really had had sex with David and it had felt fucking amazing. Addicting even. It had been way better than whatever his brain had been feeding him up until now.

But it was also terrifying how good it had felt. How comfortable and content Max now felt. How happy he was right now – to this point the only thing he wanted, needed was to wrap his hands around the man in front of him and hug him tighter.

But he couldn’t. For Max it was the whole world, but for David… for David it probably wasn’t. Because, hell, how big were the chances of him wanting someone like Max – still a kid in his eyes?

Max’s palm moved slowly up to David’s shoulder, where it stayed. A soft sigh left David’s lips, in a captivating combination with David’s hairs standing up as Max brushed softly the skin on the arm.

Still fascinating. Still mesmerizing. Maybe even more than during the night.

Stop it.

And just like that, Max’s hand moved away, like he just got burned by a fire. And maybe it was the truth. Or maybe he was simply just trying not to get that burned.

Whatever it was, the further away he could get, the better. Now half-sober David probably wouldn’t be too happy to find Max in his bed – both still being naked and all.

And even covered in semen, Max concluded as he sat down on David’s bed.

Yeah, David definitely wouldn’t be happy. Yet Max didn’t mind.

However he had to act like an adult. So slowly he slipped away from under warm covers into the chilly world of the still apartment. First step on the cold panels made him shiver, second one was better, after third one he almost got used to it, but barely.

Max’s found his boxers and jeans pretty quickly. His wallet and phone were still on the nightstand. But where were his shirt and jacket… Ah yeah, the living room.

And indeed they were there, laying on the floor in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Max collected all his and David’s clothes and then smelled his own. Yuck, sweat, alcohol and cigarettes’ smoke. Terrible combination. Plus his boxers just… no. Max definitely didn’t want to put them on today, especially when, even though the smell was awful, it brought back some good memories.

No, stop.

What to do, what to do…

Oh yeah, emergency kit. Or whatever David called it. Back when Max had spent a lot of time here during finals week, David had proposed keeping here additional clothes in case another night over would occur. And even though Max at first had laughed at the idea, he still had brought some spare clothes to use just in case of emergency.

Emergency apparently was today.

But where David had said he had left them. Oh yeah, of course, in his room. Duh.

Slowly Max walked naked back to the room. Gladly, David was still soundly asleep, with one hand thrown haphazardly over the pillow and his face buried in it.

It was adorable to look at, but Max had to shake his head and focus on his goal. Find his clothes.

Which wasn’t that difficult as David had put them in the very first drawer. At least now the luck was on Max’s side.

Max grabbed the clean clothes and moved to the door, when he heard a mumble coming from behind him. He looked back, suddenly utterly terrified that David woke up to Max in the middle of his room with his dick hanging freely between his legs. But David didn’t wake up, only smiled stupidly into the pillow and then nothing more happened.

What was he dreaming about? Max? Debatable. Actually Max thought that David won’t remember much from the previous night. If he remember anything at all, that is.

Did Max want David to remember what they had done?

Some part of him wanted to, needed to make David remember what and how Max had made him feel. He wanted David to remember Max’s kisses, his touches, his passion, his love, his adoration. But in the same time it would be terrible. Because Max knew, without a doubt, that the first thing David will feel will be guilt – spreading over his body like some kind of disease.

So, no, it won’t be better if David remember what they had done. But only awake David will tell him the truth.

Or at least Max hoped so as he moved to the door, planning to clean himself in the bathroom, but not before planting one last kiss on David’s head.

He was still selfish in the end.

***

David never hated anything in his life. No, scratch that. He rarely hated anything after he had fell in love with Camp Campbell. But right now, he maybe not hated, but clearly and purely disliked the birds outside the window.

If they could be quiet for a second or so…

David lifted his hand and tried to cover his head with the pillow, but found that his palms were not cooperating with him as they should be. The simple movement took definitely too much time. Plus the fluffy pillow didn’t mask the sounds at all.

He sighed heavily. It wasn’t the birds’ fault he felt like…

Max would say shit, but David didn’t want to use such strong words, even when they described precisely how he felt. Because, honestly, he felt like he was on the verge of dying.

His head throbbed with the pain moving from his neck to his forehead, where it spread like a spilled water. His muscles were tensed and pulled, making every movement a difficult feat. Right now David’s brain still didn’t catch on why his lower parts were the ones that felt the worst, especially near his butt. Because his mind had other priorities – his stomach.

Which suddenly decided that it was a good time to empty its content.

David jumped out of the bed. He hissed when a sharp pain rang through his spine, but he held strongly and ran as fast as he could in this state to the bathroom which gladly wasn’t occupied.

He fell to his knees, above the bowl, and emptied his stomach. Or whatever was left there. The shudders echoed in his body as he leaned above the toilet with his mouth open, not sure whether he wanted to take a proper breath or vomit once again.

Yeah, shit was a fitting word here.

The cold tiles beneath his naked skin weren’t helping him either.

Naked?

David glanced down at his body, only to turn right back at the bowl and throw up once again, with spasms hustling his body like a hurricane.

But this time his brain registered the fact that he was very much naked. And sore. Especially around his abdomen and between his legs.

Okay, okay, okay, what the hell had happened last night? Because it was morning, right? It was morning?!

David’s coughed, feeling the bitter and sour taste in his mouth. His palm moved to the flush which he pushed, a little bit clumsily.

He rested his cheek on the seat. In any other situation he maybe would find it disgusting, but not right now. Right now he felt miserable, horrible and simply too overwhelmed by all the signals his body was sending to his brain. Which wasn’t working correctly.

Coming back to the main problem. What had happened yesterday? Or today? The last thing he more over clearly remembered was laughing at some story Max had told about his Uni and then ordering another round for himself. After that it was only bits and pieces of something…

Something that had made him apparently very sticky.

Oh, God.

Please, no…

There was a soft click and light flooded the bathroom.

Then his stomach revolved again and David found himself leaning and closing his eyes to vomit.

But when the body was fighting to take a sweet breath, he felt a soft something being thrown over his shoulders, enwrapping his chilly body in a warm hug. Then after that came soothing hand making circles on his back, trying to relax the tensed muscles there.

It actually helped a lot.

Only after few minutes of retching, David was able to flush the toilet again and glance back at the person who helped him.

Max.

David didn’t expect to see him here. Why was he here? They had met yesterday, but then…

Crack – his recording had been broken.

Why was David feeling like he was just hit by a truck and stomped over by a crowd? Just how much had he drunk? Judging by the tremors running through his body, the vomiting and the still present swimming sensation in his head definitely too much. Heck, he shouldn’t drink that much. But he clearly remembered the sweet calmness which had been empowering his limbs with another round. And another. And another…

The hand on his back was warm, maybe a little bit hesitant.

“How are you feeling?”

David titled his head, almost resting his forehead on the toilet seat. At this point he didn’t really care.

“Not good.” He mumbled, stopping another waterfall from spilling from his mouth. The aftertaste was horrible.

“I can see that.”

If David could, he would chuckle at that. But he couldn’t, so he only blinked slowly, eyeing Max from his now pretty comfortable place near toilet.

Max was fully clothed, but there was some dampness on his shoulders and it looked like few of his ebony locks were still wet. So he had taken a shower, which meant that Max had spent the night here. That wasn’t really surprising. It had happened few times in the past, especially when Max had wanted to run away from his too loud dorm to get some needed silence and to be able to learn for exams. Even now it shouldn’t be surprising as they had drunk a lot yesterday.

Yet something in Max’s overall appearance was telling David that it wasn’t like any other time he had spent the night over.

The fact that David was sitting naked on the cold tiled floor wasn’t really helping much. It made him terrified actually.

“Max…” David started hoarsely, only to cough at the end. Yuck, acid in his mouth. “What happened yesterday?”

And the younger male simply… stared back.

No, it wasn’t as simple as that. His eyebrow twitched, the wrinkles appeared on his nose, his eyes widened for a millisecond, the shoulders slumped down by an inch and his palm on David’s back stopped moving.

The color drained from Max’s face.

And it was unnerving, because Max usually was this person who immediately answered all questions, no matter how harsh and terrible the truth was. But now he was avoiding it – or maybe he was calculating, trying to come up with the best way to answer right now – to not make David… yeah, what? Freaked out? Scared? Nervous? Because well he was all of that.

“Max?” David repeated himself, trying to sound more steady and stronger than earlier, but his voice was only a barely audible croak.

Max moved his head, but it looked like he shook it a little, maybe trying to bring himself back from whatever dreamland he had jumped into. The hand that had frozen on his back and had moved away, now one more time rested on his skin.

“I…” He started, only to lick his lips. “We…”

David wanted to whine. What he? What them? What had he done when he had passed out? What had happened after that one round when the percentage of the alcohol in his blood stream had been simply too much for his brain to function properly?

“Max, I need to know.” At this point David almost pleaded.

Max looked at him and then sighed.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” He started, but quickly continued, not allowing David to say more. “But I think you may want to take a shower first. If you are strong enough to do so. And if you finished throwing up.”

David’s stomach still felt terrible, but definitely much better after emptying its content. He couldn’t say for sure that he wouldn’t vomit anymore, but he guessed he could not do it long enough for a shower.

“Okay.” He murmured.

“Do you want help with that?”

Max was unnaturally caring. It wasn’t like Max never cared. David knew he cared, he could see it in short sentences and small movements Max did. But he rarely did it so openly. It was actually pretty nice.

“No, I think I’ll manage.” David said. “It isn’t my first hungover, no matter how hard it is to believe it.”

The half-joke only mad Max’s upper lip twitch a little.

“Okay. If you need me just shout.” Max stood up and slowly moved to the exit.

David wanted to follow him with his gaze, but turning head with the headache was too big problem so he only stared at the toilet. Although David had a feeling that Max stopped in the doorway to glance at him one last time before closing the door.

When he was left alone, David sighed heavily. His stomach churned, but other than that it stayed silent and more over unmoving, not counting the pain spread all over it. He waited few more minutes, checking whether he had to use the toilet or not. Only when he felt strong enough, he stood up.

His whole body was in pain.

David slowly lifted himself from the floor, growling and groaning when his muscles stretched or tensed. At this point he wasn’t sure whether he really wanted to know what had happened to him or his body.

Somewhere at the back of his mind he already knew what had happened, but he was pushing this thought away and away, forcing it under a carpet.

When he finally stood on his two feet, he had to grab a sink, when his mind decided to make him dizzy. It was almost too overwhelming when the world spun in some sick combination with his stomach making a back-flip inside his body. David leaned above the sink, clenching the pearly white bowl hard and breathing heavily. But nothing came out from his mouth.

David spat the acid into the sink. He turned water on and rinsed his mouth few times. It didn’t get rid of the taste, but it was way better.

Exhaling loudly, he lifted his head and froze when he saw his reflection in a mirror.

His neck, his whole neck and collarbone were covered with a ton of hickeys and even few bite marks. The rosy stains were fusing into crimson spots, in few places even hinted with unnatural shades of gray and purple.

David lifted his hand and touched the right side of his neck, swallowing hard.

And then there were few quick smudges, pictures jumping in and out of focus inside his brain. There were voices – moans, yelps, whines, groans and shouts. There was warmness spreading over his abdomen. There was hot mouth on his neck, treating it like a delicate canvas. There was hunger and adoration, blinking, shining in the dark room.

David felt like suddenly someone played some kind of a broken video in his head.

He inhaled loudly, tightening the grip on the sink with his other hand.

He was terrified, but he had… he had to do it.

Slowly, he took the blanket off his shoulder and folded it into a nice square, taking care to not look down at himself. He left the blanket on the shelf, near sink, and only then turned to the shower. One step in, then another and he was standing inside.

His heart was beating like crazy inside his ribcage, afraid of the sight he might see when he would look down. But he knew he had to do it. He had to fill the gaps, the hollow spaces in his memory. No matter how terrified he was.

He opened his eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to trick his aching head into calming down (even though alarms were ringing loudly inside his ears). Then after another few long breaths he slowly looked down. Only to see what he expected. A slightly translucent substance smeared over his abdomen and thighs. The skin there was also dotted with red patches.

It was only a mere evidence. He already knew what had happened without it. However he had to see it with his own eyes, because the idea was so unbelievable that he couldn’t simply take it as truth. Yet it was true.

Another revolution struck through his stomach, making the acid rise into his throat. He was about to jump out of the bathtub, but after few seconds, with fully shut down eyes and hand covering his mouth, he somehow managed not to vomit.

Stress. Mistake. Error. Wrong.

Why was his drunken self doing this? He knew he shouldn’t drink so much and yet he was doing it.

David forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose, trying to calm the tremors, the panic slowly climbing up his spine and threating to tear his chest apart.

Okay, he had to calm down. They were both adults. They were responsible for their behavior and actions. Even if they didn’t have any memories of it – only a hollow black something resonating inside his mind.

However now he wasn’t sure whether remembering would be a blessing or a curse.

***

The scent of coffee was the first thing he smelled after exiting the bathroom. The second was a little bit sharper aroma of spices. And maybe on the normal day he would melt under this quite tasty mix, now… now it was almost painful to smell it.

However it was still nice.

David shuffled slowly to the living room, feeling his muscles scream in pain with every step. He peeked inside, feeling his heart jumping into his throat.

Max was in the kitchen, with his back facing the corridor, so also David per se. His hands were moving above the cooker, flipping something on the pan. There were two plates on the counter next to him, prepared for whatever he was making.

Okay, he got it. It was his house, his own life, his own decisions, even if they were dictated by alcohol.

David stepped into the living room and this one sound made Max immediately turn around. Like he was prepared for it, maybe he even waited for David to appear.

“Hey.” David nodded, forcing a smile to form on his lips, even though his head was telling him to lie down and die.

“Hey.” Max said – mumbled, barely partying his lips. He blinked and then looked over David’s body, searching for something, or maybe only checking. David wasn’t sure what it was. “You look… better.” He finished, definitely trying to come up with a better sentence.

David knew it wasn’t truth. Or maybe it was. He definitely looked better than the crumpled mess Max had found above the toilet.

“I don’t feel better.”

Only after that he shuffled closer. He eyed the chair, staring at the hard surface. This will… this will hurt and David wasn’t sure if he wanted to feel this pain. But standing was making him feel sick. Every choice was worse than the other.

There was a movement in the corner of his eyes, followed by fast steps. Before David’s brain could process what was happening, Max was next to him, putting a cushion on the chair.

Well, that was… nice and totally embarrassing.

“T-thanks…” David stuttered, but before he could lift his head and look into Max’s eyes, the male was already moving to the stove.

Biting his lip, David sat down on the chair. And yeah, it still hurt, but the striking pain could be ten time worse if he didn’t have the fluffy seat beneath himself. It took him ten seconds of holding in breath, to exhale it through his nose and relax. To some point, of course.

There was a cup near him with steaming liquid inside. A very beige color was soothing his eyes. A short sniff told him the truth. Coffee with milk. Or milk with coffee as some people called it. And even though his stomach definitely didn’t want to get anything inside of it, David wrapped his still trembling fingers around the cup and lifted it to his lips. Tiny sip followed. It was sweet. Perfect. Just as David liked it.

There was clattering, sound of scraping and then shushed whisper of running water. After few moments, filled with David trying to drink more than two sips of coffee, he heard footsteps nearby. The man lifted his head to Max putting the plate in front of him, together with utensils.

“Here. I know it’s hard but you have to eat something to take pills.”

The breakfast – eggs, bacon and two pieces of bread – looked delicious. But now he was horrified to simply lift up the fork and cut a piece. His stomach fought against him, telling him, whispering, threating to spill its contents if he take a bite.

But David’s head was killing him and he needed those pills. Desperately.

Max sat in front of him. He was eating the same breakfast, not as hungrily as usual. There were gray bags under his eyes and his hands trembled when he moved down the fork. He probably was also hungover, but in comparison to David he looked like he was totally fine.

Must be the young age.

Or less amount of alcohol.

Just thinking about it made David want to throw up, the sour taste of vodka returning to his tongue. The stomachache returned, a little smaller than during the morning, but it still was unbearable.

He put the fork down.

“David…” Max’s voice was soft. Unnatural soft.

“I-I know.” David knew it. He knew it.

It took him at least five long minutes before he forced three or so bites into himself without fearing of jumping to his feet.

Max noticed his struggles and stood up from the stool. He disappeared into the bathroom, only to return with a bucket which he put near David’s chair.

Pathetic. However he was still grateful. He wasn’t sure whether he could run in this state.

After he ate a little bit, he quickly took two pills, swallowing them quickly. Now he only needed to keep them in his stomach until the medicine will start working, getting rid of the awful headache.

David put his hands on the table and put his head on them, hiding his face from the world and too bright for comfort light. Seriously, he wanted to sleep. Thank God it was Saturday and he had nothing planned. He wanted to do few things for his work, but it looked like it had to be re-scheduled.

Another few minutes passed before Max spoke up once again:

“How are you feeling?”

“Still bad.” David mumbled into the surface of the table.

There was something sparkling in the air – hesitation, fear, nervousness. The atmosphere turned dense, crushing his lungs when he was taking every breath.

“David, how much do you remember from… from last night?”

He groaned as he slowly lifted his head.

Max wasn’t looking at him. Or no, that was not the case, he was stealing glance after glance at him, but when David lifted his head, he looked away.

How much David remembered? Not much actually. Like practically nothing. The only things familiar about last night were warm feeling pooling all over his body, kind words and the sensation of being… safe.

Weird. He never had felt anything like that.

“Not much.” He said. But he wasn’t dumb. He could connect two points. He had had a short flashback. He had seen bruises – hickeys – all over his body. He could see the small patch of red and gray on Max’s neck, near his ear.

David knew basic math.

However he had to hear it. The spoken words had more strength. They had to be put to life. No matter how terrifying they were.

“Okay, that is…” Max started, only to lose a track of thoughts, one hand moving to his black locks and combing through them. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad actually.”

David hated it – not having control over his memories.

His tongue felt like stone as he opened his mouth and tried to put into words all his theories and fears.

“Did we… I mean, I just need a clarification that we… that you know we…” But it came out in form of a stuttering mess.

But the fear was ruling over his body, making him shiver, tremble from stress.

(David wanted to think that it was simply the last few drops of alcohol still being processed by his body, but unfortunately that wasn’t the truth. He was scared.)

Max’s hand slumped down as he looked back at David. The bright, blue, cunning eyes tore him down, piece by piece.

“Had sex? Yeah… yeah we did. And yes, we used condoms.”

David never wanted to swear and curse and scream aloud than in this very moment.

He hid his face in the nest made from his arms, exhaling slowly through his nose. Don’t panic. Everything was alright. He was an adult. Max was an adult. There was nothing wrong with it. Legally it was okay. So why was he feeling so terrible?

“Did I…” Words were stuck in his throat, but with pure will he pushed them through. “Did I force you to it?”

After that there was silence. Uncomfortable silence. That kind of silence that made David’s hairs stand up. His heart beated loud, fast inside his ears, the noise almost overpowering any other sounds resonating in the house.

David slowly lifted his head.

Max wasn’t looking at him, but at the window showing the bright picture of the outside world.

“It was…” He started, licked his lips and then closed them. One breath, slow exhale. “It was more over the other way around. I… I forced you to it. Or at least I feel like I did, even when… even when you agreed to it.”

Oh, thank God. David didn’t force Max to anything. That was… that was pretty reassuring.

But when David felt more at ease, Max looked like the guilt was eating him from inside. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, now openly glaring at the window, furrowing his eyebrows with gaze filled with hurt.

David didn’t like it. The pained look on Max’s face.

“Max, hey.“ He started, trying to gain the other male’s attention. He didn’t look back. “Max.” Still no response. “Max!” Okay, not so loud, not so loud.

But gladly and finally this made the black haired male focus on him.

David took a deep breath and tried to put a reassuring smile on his lips.

“If I said that I was okay with it, then I meant it. You understand me? You didn’t force me to anything.” David stared right into Max’s eyes, trying to make him focus only on his words, on the real meaning of them and convince him.

Because it was the truth. He was drunk, but if his drunken self had agreed to it, it meant he had wanted it.

Max looked at him, no, stared at him and then slowly nodded.

“Okay.”

David smiled. The headache was less painful now, so the medicine had to start working. Finally.

David glanced down at the food. He totally should take few more bites, but his stomach was still fighting against his will. He kinda wanted to lay down and forget about everything.

“So what should we do from now on?” Max suddenly asked, looking curiously and… and hopefully at David.

Hopefully? Why was there hope in these eyes? For what Max was hopeful?

What should they do? It was only one night. And David barely remembered anything from it. He had only vague memories, feelings – of being comfortable, safe, warm, loved. But they were only feelings, probably an imagination of his drunk self. It had to be. They couldn’t be real.

It was one night. One mistake. People make mistakes. They had made mistakes. Friends make mistakes.

So it was simple… it was the mistake. They had to move on and forget about it.

If they could.

David swallowed hard, feeling something growing, forming in his throat. It was blocking him, preventing from speaking, almost making him unable to breathe properly.

Could they return to what they had had before the night? Was it possible?

David wanted it. But he… he was afraid, afraid that it wasn’t be possible. That they just had destroyed something – a friendship – they had, had built even not so long ago.

No, they had to forget. Forget and try to get the relationship they had back.

“Move on.” David said, looking up. “Forget.”

And just like that, that spark, that sparkling light, that hopeful glint was gone from Max’s eyes. Poof and the fire died down with one quick puff of air coming from a mouth.

Was it because of what David had said? What was wrong with it? Didn’t Max want it too?

“Max?” David quickly asked, hesitantly, nervously. “Are you-“

“I’m okay.” The voice was harsh, brash and… hurt. No, it had to be David’s imagination. It had to be. “Forget sounds fine.”

Yet something inside of David was telling him that Max wasn’t fine with it. But why? Why wasn’t he okay with it? The night was just a mistake. Didn’t he want to forget about it too? Especially as it concerned David of all people?

“Really?”

“Yes, it is… fine.” Max said, now stronger, sounding a little bit more convincing. But whether he wanted to convince David or himself, David didn’t know.

“Okay.” David nodded.

“Okay.” Max confirmed.

It didn’t look like Max was okay with it, but David decided not to push it. He was too tired to do it right now.

He just wanted to forget. And… move on.

There was silence between them for a minute. Maybe more. Max glanced at him and then looked at the empty plate he had in front of himself.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” He finally asked.

Help? Cleaning up? What should David clean up?

“The bed, David.” Max said, some part of the usual smirk returning to his lips.

David felt heat rising to his cheeks as he coughed to clear his throat.

“No, don’t worry.” He stuttered. “I’ll… I’ll clean it.”

“You sure?” Max asked one more time, that mischievous glint sparkling, burning in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure, Max!”

Max chuckled, but the sound was empty.

***

Max washed the dishes while David took off the bedding and together with bedsheet and pillowcases threw it into a washing machine. Unfortunately during this task his stomach reminded David about itself, so he had to empty the barely eaten content into the toilet.

Max brought him a glass full of water. It was nice.

Water tasted a little bit minty. It soothed his mouth.

“You should sleep more, you’ll feel better afterwards.” Max said, staring at David when he was putting toothpaste on his toothbrush.

“I guess you’re right.”

And with that Max walked out of the bathroom, leaving David alone to brush his teeth one more time. But Max was right, he should nap a little more. Maybe this way his stomach won’t revolve so much and the headache will go away.

Sleep sounded delightful.

When he finally went out of the bathroom there were two blankets and a pillow laying on the unfolded couch. Next to it, on the coffee table stood a cup with water and pills. Under it stood the bucket.

Max was near the door, putting on his jacket.

“Are you going already?” David asked.

Max looked at David, like he was dumb, and then finished zipping his jacket up.

“I have things to do and you need to sleep.” He stated.

Maybe it was for the best. They probably needed time – apart from each other. To think, to analyze things, to find themselves in this new situation. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy. The damage was already done. Now somehow David needed to glue the broken pieces back together.

But could he do it actually?

He stared at Max as he put on his shoes and then moved to the door. He only turned around when the door was halfway open.

Max opened his mouth while staring right at him, right into David’s eyes. But only for a brief moment. In another one he was looking away.

“Take care, dumbass.” Max said instead.

Instead. But instead of what? David knew, he had a feeling at the back of his mind that it wasn’t what Max had wanted to say.

“You too. And write to me when you’ll be bored.” David said, smiling at the end.

Max glanced back, the corners of his mouth twitching, barely.

“Okay.”

And with that Max went out, closing the door softly after himself.

***

After Max went out, David decided to go to sleep. He woke up after an hour to throw up one more time, but after that he slept almost till the very late afternoon.

When he finally and fully woke up he checked his phone for new messages. One from Gwen. Zero from Max.

Maybe there was no turning back?

But David wanted to. He wanted to get back what they had had before this whole night – one big mistake – had happened. Was this too much to ask? Was it possible to get their friendship back?

Was it too selfish of David to want that?

The end

[dfroza]

To keep the faith.

to conserve spiritual truth is what Paul writes to his friend Timothy (and to each of us)

Today’s reading from the Scriptures begins the Letter of First Timothy:

[Introduction]

From Paul, an apostle in Christ Jesus, for it was Jesus himself, our living hope, who sent me as his servant by the command of God, our life-giver.

Timothy, you are my true spiritual son in the faith. May abundant grace, mercy, and total well-being from God the Father and the Anointed One, our Lord Jesus, be yours!

As I urged you when I left for Macedonia, I’m asking that you remain in Ephesus to instruct them not to teach or follow the error of deceptive doctrines, nor pay any attention to cultural myths, traditions, or the endless study of genealogies. Those digressions only breed controversies and debates. They are devoid of power that builds up and strengthens the church in the faith of God.

For we reach the goal of fulfilling all the commandments when we love others deeply with a pure heart, a clean conscience, and sincere faith. Some believers have been led astray by teachings and speculations that emphasize nothing more than the empty words of men. They presume to be expert teachers of the law, but they don’t have the slightest idea of what they’re talking about and they simply love to argue!

We know that the moral code of the law is beautiful when applied as God intended, but actually, the law was not established for righteous people, but to bring conviction of sin to the unrighteous. The law was established to bring the revelation of sin to the evildoers and rebellious, the sinners without God, those who are vicious and perverse, and to those who strike their father or their mother, sinners, murderers, rapists, those who are sexually impure, homosexuals, kidnappers, liars, those who break their oaths, and all those who oppose the teaching of godliness and purity in the church! They are the ones the law is for.

I have been commissioned to preach the wonderful news of the glory of the exalted God. My heart spills over with thanks to God for the way he continually empowers me, and to our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, who found me trustworthy and who authorized me to be his partner in this ministry.

Mercy kissed me, even though I used to be a blasphemer, a persecutor of believers, and a scorner of what turned out to be true. I was ignorant and didn’t know what I was doing. I was flooded with such incredible grace, like a river overflowing its banks, until I was full of faith and love for Jesus, the Anointed One!

I can testify that the Word is true and deserves to be received by all, for Jesus Christ came into the world to bring sinners back to life—even me, the worst sinner of all! Yet I was captured by grace, so that Jesus Christ could display through me the outpouring of his Spirit as a pattern to be seen for all those who would believe in him for eternal life.

Because of this my praises rise to the King of all the universe who is indestructible, invisible, and full of glory, the only God who is worthy of the highest honors throughout all of time and throughout the eternity of eternities! Amen!

So Timothy, my son, I am entrusting you with this responsibility, in keeping with the very first prophecies that were spoken over your life, and are now in the process of fulfillment in this great work of ministry, in keeping with the prophecies spoken over you. With this encouragement use your prophecies as weapons as you wage spiritual warfare by faith and with a clean conscience. For there are many who reject these virtues and are now destitute of the true faith, such as Hymenaeus and Alexander who have fallen away. I have delivered them both over to Satan to be rid of them and to teach them to no longer blaspheme!

The Letter of 1st Timothy, Chapter 1 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 18th chapter of 2nd Kings that documents a threat issued by the king of Assyria:

[Hezekiah of Judah]

In the third year of Hoshea son of Elah king of Israel, Hezekiah son of Ahaz began his rule over Judah. He was twenty-five years old when he became king and he ruled for twenty-nine years in Jerusalem. His mother’s name was Abijah daughter of Zechariah. In God’s opinion he was a good king; he kept to the standards of his ancestor David. He got rid of the local fertility shrines, smashed the phallic stone monuments, and cut down the sex-and-religion Asherah groves. As a final stroke he pulverized the ancient bronze serpent that Moses had made; at that time the Israelites had taken up the practice of sacrificing to it—they had even dignified it with a name, Nehushtan (The Old Serpent).

Hezekiah put his whole trust in the God of Israel. There was no king quite like him, either before or after. He held fast to God—never loosened his grip—and obeyed to the letter everything God had commanded Moses. And God, for his part, held fast to him through all his adventures.

He revolted against the king of Assyria; he refused to serve him one more day. And he drove back the Philistines, whether in sentry outposts or fortress cities, all the way to Gaza and its borders.

In the fourth year of Hezekiah and the seventh year of Hoshea son of Elah king of Israel, Shalmaneser king of Assyria attacked Samaria. He threw a siege around it and after three years captured it. It was in the sixth year of Hezekiah and the ninth year of Hoshea that Samaria fell to Assyria. The king of Assyria took Israel into exile and relocated them in Halah, in Gozan on the Habor River, and in towns of the Medes.

All this happened because they wouldn’t listen to the voice of their God and treated his covenant with careless contempt. They refused either to listen or do a word of what Moses, the servant of God, commanded.

In the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah, Sennacherib king of Assyria attacked all the outlying fortress cities of Judah and captured them. King Hezekiah sent a message to the king of Assyria at his headquarters in Lachish: “I’ve done wrong; I admit it. Pull back your army; I’ll pay whatever tribute you set.”

The king of Assyria demanded tribute from Hezekiah king of Judah—eleven tons of silver and a ton of gold. Hezekiah turned over all the silver he could find in The Temple of God and in the palace treasuries. Hezekiah even took down the doors of The Temple of God and the doorposts that he had overlaid with gold and gave them to the king of Assyria.

So the king of Assyria sent his top three military chiefs (the Tartan, the Rabsaris, and the Rabshakeh) from Lachish with a strong military force to King Hezekiah in Jerusalem. When they arrived at Jerusalem, they stopped at the aqueduct of the Upper Pool on the road to the laundry commons.

They called loudly for the king. Eliakim son of Hilkiah who was in charge of the palace, Shebna the royal secretary, and Joah son of Asaph the court historian went out to meet them.

The third officer, the Rabshakeh, was spokesman. He said, “Tell Hezekiah: A message from The Great King, the king of Assyria: You’re living in a world of make-believe, of pious fantasy. Do you think that mere words are any substitute for military strategy and troops? Now that you’ve revolted against me, who can you expect to help you? You thought Egypt would, but Egypt’s nothing but a paper tiger—one puff of wind and she collapses; Pharaoh king of Egypt is nothing but bluff and bluster. Or are you going to tell me, ‘We rely on God’? But Hezekiah has just eliminated most of the people’s access to God by getting rid of all the local God-shrines, ordering everyone in Judah and Jerusalem, ‘You must worship at the Jerusalem altar only.’

“So be reasonable. Make a deal with my master, the king of Assyria. I’ll give you two thousand horses if you think you can provide riders for them. You can’t do it? Well, then, how do you think you’re going to turn back even one raw buck private from my master’s troops? How long are you going to hold on to that figment of your imagination, these hoped-for Egyptian chariots and horses?

“Do you think I’ve come up here to destroy this country without the express approval of God? The fact is that God expressly ordered me, ‘Attack and destroy this country!’”

Eliakim son of Hilkiah and Shebna and Joah said to the Rabshakeh, “Please, speak to us in the Aramaic language. We understand Aramaic. Don’t speak in Hebrew—everyone crowded on the city wall can hear you.”

But the Rabshakeh said, “We weren’t sent with a private message to your master and you; this is public—a message to everyone within earshot. After all, they’re involved in this as well as you; if you don’t come to terms, they’ll be eating their own turds and drinking their own pee right along with you.”

Then he stepped forward and spoke in Hebrew loud enough for everyone to hear, “Listen carefully to the words of The Great King, the king of Assyria: Don’t let Hezekiah fool you; he can’t save you. And don’t let Hezekiah give you that line about trusting in God, telling you, ‘God will save us—this city will never be abandoned to the king of Assyria.’ Don’t listen to Hezekiah—he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Listen to the king of Assyria—deal with me and live the good life; I’ll guarantee everyone your own plot of ground—a garden and a well! I’ll take you to a land sweeter by far than this one, a land of grain and wine, bread and vineyards, olive orchards and honey. You only live once—so live, really live!

“No. Don’t listen to Hezekiah. Don’t listen to his lies, telling you ‘God will save us.’ Has there ever been a god anywhere who delivered anyone from the king of Assyria? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah? And Samaria—did their gods save them? Can you name a god who saved anyone anywhere from me, the king of Assyria? So what makes you think that God can save Jerusalem from me?”

The people were silent. No one spoke a word for the king had ordered, “Don’t anyone say a word—not one word!”

Then Eliakim son of Hilkiah, the palace administrator, and Shebna the royal secretary, and Joah son of Asaph the court historian went back to Hezekiah. They had ripped their robes in despair; they reported to Hezekiah the speech of the Rabshakeh.

The Book of 2nd Kings, Chapter 18 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, december 23 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A tweet by illumiNations:

@IlluminationsBT: DID YOU KNOW that no other generation has had the privilege of seeing Scripture translated in every language? Through the collaborative efforts of its 10 Bible translation organizations, illumiNations believes this can happen by 2033. #translationtuesday

12.22.20 • 1:11pm • Twitter

and a set of posts by John Parsons about the birth of Messiah:

Was Jesus (Yeshua) really born on December 25th, as the Western Christian Tradition maintains, or does the careful study of Scripture allow us to infer a different time for His advent here on earth? Two cases can be reasonably made: one case for a Tishri (Sukkot) birth, and the other for the traditional late December (or early January) date. As I hope you will see, the crux of the arguments both for and against the late December dating of the birth of Yeshua depend upon when we think Zechariah (John the Baptist’s father) was in the Temple when he was visited by the angel Gabriel...

The Scriptures teach that King David divided the sons of Aaron (i.e., the priests) into 24 “courses” or groups to create an orderly schedule by which the Temple of the LORD could be staffed for the year (1 Chr. 24:1-4). Once these courses were established, lots were drawn to determine the sequence each group would serve in the Temple (1 Chr. 24:7-19) beginning with the first course in the Spring on Nisan 1 (Rosh Chodashim). Each of the 24 courses of priests would begin and end their service on the Sabbath day for a tour of duty of one week (2 Chr. 23:8, 1 Chr. 9:25).

Now recall that Jewish calendar begins in the spring (i.e., Nisan 1), so the first course of priests would serve for seven days and the following week the second course would serve. The third week would mark the festival of Passover when all priests would be present for service, so the schedule would be suspended until the following week when the third course of priests would serve. The weekly arrangement would then resume until the holiday of Shavuot (Pentecost) when the schedule was suspended again for the ninth week. By the tenth week the eighth course (of Aviyah) would be called for Temple service and the courses would continue without further interruption until the 24th course was completed (see table below). Note that after the 24th course served, the first half of the calendar would be complete and the schedule would then reset for the second half of the year. By means of this arrangement each group of priests would serve in the Temple twice per year (in addition to the three major festivals of Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot). See the graphic I created showing the courses...

Note that this weekly schedule of the Temple service allows us to infer the birth date of both John the Baptist and Yeshua the Messiah. Of particular interest is the eighth course of the priests, called the “Course of Aviyah” (mentioned in 1 Chr. 24:10) which was the course that Zechariah served (Luke 1:5). Now since the eighth course would serve either during the month of Sivan or later during the month of Kislev (see see table above), we have two possibilities regarding establishing the birth date of Yeshua the Messiah. If the visitation of Gabriel occurred during Zechariah’s first course of service (i.e., the 10th week), then John would have been conceived sometime during the month of Sivan (Luke 1:23-4), and adding 40 weeks to this (the normal time of human gestation) John would have been born sometime in the month of Nisan, perhaps around the time of Passover. Furthermore, since Yeshua was conceived six months after John was conceived (Luke 1:24-27, 36), adding six months (or 24 weeks) to the end of Sivan implies his conception would have occurred in mid to late Kislev (near the time of Chanukah). Adding 40 weeks to this (again, the approximate time of human gestation), Yeshua then would have been born sometime in the month of Tishri, during the season of Sukkot (i.e., “Tabernacles”). On the other hand, if the visitation by Gabriel occurred during Zechariah’s second service (i.e., 35th week), then John would have been conceived after Yom Kippur (Luke 1:8-23) and born 40 weeks later in the month of Tammuz. Again, since Yeshua was conceived six months after John was conceived (Luke 1:24-27, 36), adding six months (or 24 weeks) would imply he was conceived during Passover and born later during the month of Tevet, near the traditional late December birth... [Hebrew for Christians]

The fact that different church groups have chosen one date over another to memorialize certain historical events (such as the birth date of the Messiah) is simply something we must tolerate, especially because the Scriptures do not provide enough information to conclusively determine the matter, and we are instructed to follow after peace (Heb. 12:14)... This is not a question regarding the historicity of the person of Yeshua, since that is not seriously questioned by historical scholars. However, the Scriptures do accommodate divergent convictions on such matters, as Paul gave the principle: ῝Ος μὲν κρίνει ἡμέραν παρ᾽ ἡμέραν, ὃς δὲ κρίνει πᾶσαν ἡμέραν. ῞Εκαστος ἐν τῷ ἰδίῳ νοῒ πληροφορείσθω - “One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind” (Rom: 14:5). “So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding” (Rom. 14:19).

You might not agree with my tentative conclusions here, but if you want to make a case for a different date, please do your own research on the question. Read the relevant Hebrew texts, do the math, consult the Jewish calendar, read the New Testament, check the Greek, and determine whether you think Zechariah was serving at the Temple during the month of Sivan or later, during Tishri, perhaps during the time of Yom Kippur. Shalom!

.

For more on this topic see “Christmas Day: Was Jesus Really Born on December 25th?”

12.22.20 • Facebook

*If* the priest Zechariah was performing the Yom Kippur service when he was visited by the angel Gabriel (as seems to be the case given the context, see Luke 1:8-23), and *if* his wife Elizabeth conceived about that time (see Luke 1:24, that is, sometime in the middle of the month of Tishri), and her cousin Mary was then told of the incarnation six months later, during Passover season (Luke 1:26, 36), then the birth of Yeshua would have been sometime during the middle of the month of Tevet, which is indeed close to the traditional December 25th date observed by the majority of Christians (the Jewish historian Alfred Edersheim said that Yeshua was born on Aseret B’Tevet). Indeed, one implication of this interpretation is that the Lamb of God (שׂה הָאֱלהִים) was conceived during Passover, which seems appropriate as the time of the Incarnation...

ὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο καὶ ἐσκήνωσεν ἐν ἡμῖν -- "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us" (John 1:14) -- which of course is the essence of the gospel message. As it is written concerning the birth of Messiah: "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace" (Isa. 9:6).

Of course the exact date of Yeshua's birth is existentially irrelevant, apart from the fact that he indeed was born into this world as our Savior, and indeed, the New Testament stresses the significance of his death more than his birth (see 1 Cor. 2:2; 1 Cor. 15:3-4). Nevertheless, we use the “good eye” to regard our Christian friends who honor this time to remember the birth of Yeshua, even if we have convictions that may lead us to think Messiah was born during Sukkot (or perhaps some other time). It is essential to remember that He was born to die, chaverim, and regarding the anniversary of his death and resurrection we have no doubt... [Hebrew for Christians]

12.22.20 • Facebook

Though the world system corrupts the message of the birth of Messiah for the sake of avarice and greed, take a moment to reflect on its ongoing spiritual significance, namely, that God emptied Himself (κένωσις) of His regal glory and power to become your High Priest, able to fully sympathize with your weakness, frailty, shame, and chronic sinfulness (Heb. 4:15-16; Phil 2:7-8). Almighty God, the Presence of Love, the Heart of Reality, clothed himself in human flesh and bone to become Immanu’el (עִמָּנוּ אֵל) - "God with us" - so that we could be touched by Him, healed by Him, and redeemed by Him... In light of this, it is only fitting we should join the refrain of heavenly host: "Glory to God in the highest, and upon earth peace, good will toward men" (Luke 2:14). Amen! Yeshua is the Eternal Sign and Wonder of the LORD God Almighty...

Consider the absolute humility of God as He chose to enter into this world as "baby Jesus." Meditate on the glory and sheer paradox of God's love! "Baby Jesus" is the perfect disguise to hide the truth from the proud eyes of the flesh, though the humble of heart can see... "For since in the wisdom of God the world by its wisdom did not know God, God was pleased to save those who believe by the foolishness of preaching" (1 Cor. 1:21). For "who comprehends the mind of the LORD, or gives him instruction as his counselor?" Through his great plan to redeem people from the dominion of Satan and his agents in this evil world, God emptied Himself to become clothed in the frailty of human flesh, born in a barn as the great Lamb of God, and born to die as the ransom for all who will believe. Ah, what would we do without the gift of God, friends? What hope would we have? Regardless of the exact date of His birth, let’s thank God that our Moshia (Savior) was willing to be born into this dark world to offer Himself as our sacrificial Redeemer! “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

But what will you do, then, if you sincerely seek to follow the Torah’s calendar in light of entrenched Christian customs? Well, we certainly *may* commemorate the birth of Messiah during the holiday of Sukkot (or Shavuot, etc.), though we must be careful to show charity and use the "good eye" toward those who may adhere to the traditional date for “Christmas.” Likewise we commemorate the death and resurrection of Messiah during Passover and Firstfruits, respectively, though we do not begrudge those of good faith who honor these great events of salvation during what they call the "Pascha" or even the "Easter" season. Often we are tested in exactly this way, chaverim! We must not miss the "weightier matters" of extending love to others, as Yeshua clearly taught (Matt. 23:23). Moreover it is written, “Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind” (Rom. 14:5; Col. 2:16).

Friends, we must test the spirits -- and that includes our own! How do we treat the “stranger” among us? How do we regard the “weaker brother?” Do we demand that our doctrine be esteemed, or do we allow room for others to seek the Lord and his wisdom? Ask yourself: Does this person (or group) honor Yeshua as God the Son, the Redeemer of Humanity who died for our sins and rose from the dead? If so, then keep your heart warm and soft toward him or her, even if he or she has yet to discover the Jewish roots of their faith. “Strive for peace with everyone” (Heb. 12:14). “Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you” (Phil. 3:15). Though we desire unity with one another (John 17:11), we cannot reasonably insist on doctrinal uniformity, especially in light of the frailty of our shared human condition... The truth of God is known in humility and love. [Hebrew for Christians]

12.22.20 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

December 23, 2020

God with Us

“And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bare Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the LORD.” (Genesis 4:1)

Here is Eve’s testimony concerning the first child born to the human race. To understand it, we need to recall God’s first promise: “I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; [He] shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel” (Genesis 3:15). These words, addressed to Satan, promised that the woman’s “seed” would destroy Satan. Thus, that seed would have to be a man, but the only one capable of destroying Satan is God Himself. Eve mistakenly thought that Cain would fulfill this promise, and when he was born, she testified: “I have gotten a man—even the LORD” (literal rendering).

Over three millennia later, essentially the same promise was renewed to the “house of David,” when the Lord said: “Behold, [the] virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:13-14). The definite article reflects the primeval promise that the divine/human Savior, when He comes, would be born uniquely as the woman’s seed, not of the father’s seed like all other men. His very name, Immanuel, means “God with us” (Matthew 1:23). He is “the Word...made flesh” (John 1:14).

While questions have been raised about the precise meaning of almah (Hebrew word translated “virgin”), there is no question in the New Testament: “Behold, [the] virgin [Greek parthenos, meaning virgin and nothing else] shall be with child” (Matthew 1:23). “When the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth His Son, made of a woman” (Galatians 4:4). “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil” (Hebrews 2:14). HMM

[imagine-camp-camp-blog]

How about some coraline au with some platonic reader/trio and exploring stuff i guess

(THAT’S MY FAVORITE AU BECAUSE CORALINE IS MY FAVORITE MOVIE!! I hope this turns out to your liking! I can’t decide whether I like Nikki as the cat and Neil as Wyborne, or if I like QM as the cat and both Nikki and Neil in the role of Wyborne, but because you asked for the trio I’ll have it as both Nikki and Neil as Wyborne. Thanks!)

“Now do you believe me?” Max asked, gesticulating exaggeratedly to the perfect mirror world before him. Neil scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, we’re in the same forest. It’s gonna take more than a fancy tent to convince me.”

“But why would i lie to you about this?!” Max tried, clearly frustrated that Neil still wouldn’t believe him. He groaned. “C’mon, the other camp is just a little ways this way.” Nikki stifled a laugh at that name. The “Other Camp” sounded pretty fake, but she was always happy to sneak out of camp at night. She elbowed you and gestured towards Max. 

“Time to head to the ‘Other Camp’, eh (Y/N)?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and beginning to walk behind Max, who was taking strides much quicker than usual, and had his hands balled into fists at his sides. You followed beside Nikki a few steps behind Max and Neil. 

“I dunno, Nikki, Max seems pretty worked up about this..” You observed, taking note of how much more annoyed he seemed than usual.

“Nah, you know Max. He’s usually angry.”

“I guess..” The four of you walked in the chilly night air until you looked out to see lights coming into view. A triumphant smile grew on Max’s face.

“See? Look at this place! It’s amazing!” He shouted, throwing his arms up as you approached the ‘Other Camp’. A gasp escaped your lips, Neil’s crossed arms dropped to his sides and his mouth fell open, and Nikki stared ahead, slack-jawed. Twinkling lights hung all around the camp, swooping above you against the backdrop of a dazzling sky. There were no ragged, cramped tents, but instead beautiful cozy looking cabins. The mess hall and counselor’s cabin were new and refurbished, practically sparkling. Max beelined for the latter, and knocked on the door. Immediately, a tall man with a striking resemblance to David answered the door. His smile faltered for a moment upon seeing Max with others from his world, but it was such a brief change that one could easily have convinced themselves it was nothing, and a bright grin replaced it immediately. 

“Why, Max! You’ve brought friends! What an unexpected surprise!” His gaze turned from Max and Neil to you and Nikki, and your breath hitched as you made eye contact. You found yourself staring directly at a pair of buttons. Sky blue buttons, sewn in place of his eyes. You glanced over to Nikki, who looked more or less confused, then to Neil, who seemed just as frightened as you. Max cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Is that.. All right?” Max sounded unsure of himself for a moment, but was reassured when the blonde, button-eyed doppelgänger nodded.

“Well of course! The more the merrier! You’ll always be my favorite camper, Max,” That line unsettled you, for some reason. “But your friends are more than welcome!” He smiled sweetly at all of you, then patted Max’s head. To your surprise, Max allowed it. “Jen and I will be finished with dinner soon. Why don’t you show your friends around?” He and Max’s exchange went on for just a moment longer, then the stranger left you all to your own devices.

As soon as he was gone, Max smirked.

“Told you.”

Nikki was the first to chime in. “He.. actually had BUTTON eyes?! I thought you just meant like, cute! Like how you can say people have button noses!”

“What? No, Nikki,-”

“Who the hell was that?!” Neil cried, grabbing Max by the shoulders and effectively cutting him off. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost, with a sheet white face and anxious eyes.

Max blinked. “Calm down, dude. His name is Daniel. He’s like.. He’s like David but better! Everything is better here! Just like I fucking told you, Neil!”

Neil let go of him and put a hand to his forehead. “How..How is this even possible..?”

“Who cares? Would you rather stay here-” Max gestured to the beautiful scenery around you, “Or back in Camp Campbell?”

“Yeah, this place is pretty cool!” Nikki chirped, throwing an arm around Neil. You glanced around hesitantly. It was pretty nice, you had to admit. It seemed too good to be true, and you were at least half sure it was a dream, but you ignored your creeping suspicions and joined Nikki and Neil. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to just look around a little, would it?” You asked. Neil pursed his lips and surveyed the area once more.

“I...Suppose not..”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit, Neil!” Nikki cheered loudly, then continued. “So Max, is Button guy the only one here? Do we have the whole camp to ourselves, or are there other button people?”

“No way, there are tons of other campers!” Max seemed excited. “And get this: They’re the same as the original campers. Nerris and Harrison are actually good performers here! Preston puts on bearable shows! it’s great!”

Neil scrunched up his nose. “So then.. are there other versions of us..? Of you?”

Max paused. “I.. Huh. There are other versions of you guys, but they aren’t here. Usually they’re with Daniel. And there’s never another version of me.”

You decided to pipe up. “Maybe us being here cancels out the existence of the other versions of ourselves?” You offered. Max shrugged.

“Makes sense to me.” Clearly, he didn’t feel like debating this anymore. “Look Neil, the point is, this place is infinitely better than Camp Campbell could ever be, so why question it, right? It hasn’t given me any reason to. Now will you just drop it and come with me? Harrison has a show tonight, and you’re not gonna wanna miss it. Trust me.”

Neil only tried a little longer to make sense of this, before giving in and allowing Max to take everyone to the show. You all followed Max, commenting on the place around you and talking amongst yourselves as you walked through the perfect version of Camp Campbell, seeing just how much potential the original could have, seeing all that it could be. Neil eventually warmed up to the place as he caught a glimpse of the science lab that this camp had. It took forever for Max to tear him away from it so that you could all make it to the “Better Harrison’s” show. 

Not long after, you came upon a large, magnificent outdoor stage, complete with high tech lights and props, and four empty seats up front. You all sat down and immediately, a light shone on the red curtains covering the stage. They parted, revealing a button-eyed Harrison (who welcomed you all warmly), and the show began.

[a-winterprince-blog]

Family Ties (5/15)

Summary: Not long after receiving a strange warning in a dream, Killian finds himself forced to go to Camelot and deal with a long forgotten enemy. The heroes follow to aid him, but soon they are pulled into a net of family secrets and intrigues, with a foe who seems to bring back the dead. Killian is reunited with his family, but can he trust them? Rating: Mature Content Warning: Mention of rape, minor character death. Corresponding chapters will be marked accordingly.As always, a huge thank you goes out to wonderful beta @onceuponadisneypotter (AO3) and my two amazing artists:@thisisartyannaand @captainodonoghue!You can find the story on ff.net, as well.

The table was bursting with food. Ornate silver plates filled with pies of all sizes covered most of the table's surface. Boiled eggs were placed between them, the shell gilt so that before she saw Arthur crack open one open and eat it, Emma thought they were for decoration. The golden bowls closer to the edge of the table were spilling with fruit, plums mostly, and provided some culinary variety. The fancy goblets filled with wine each one of them had before them looked like they belonged in a museum. They were frequently refilled whenever someone emptied theirs.

Nothing, however, compared to the main dish. On a giant golden plate, a roasted stag was served, perfectly brown and crispy. They’d been told that the hunters had killed it just for them, and apparently that was an honor. At least it wasn’t chimera again.

Emma carefully raised her goblet to her lips, taking the tiniest sip. It looked like she had a long night ahead of her, and she didn't want to get drunk. But she had to do something, and at least there wasn't much she could do wrong with drinking.

Eating was a whole different story. How was an alleged princess supposed to eat? She had tried copying her parents and Regina, but their movements were so delicate, and yet seemed so natural, that she doubted she would ever be able to eat like that.

How was she supposed to hold her fork? Snow seemed to only touch it with her fingertips, but when Emma had tried that, it had slipped from her hand and loudly scattered on the table. After that, she had barely eaten anything. She feared she would give them away if she did.

So she had focused her attention on observing the room. They were dining in a big hall with a long, dark wooden table and fancy chairs. Arthur had invited her parents, Regina, Robin, Killian and her. The royals, or so he thought. They had told him that she was David’s sister, and Killian her husband, so they wouldn’t have to explain why she was the same age as her parents.

Arthur and Lady Elaine were the only ones from his court to sit at the table, but almost all knights were standing in the room, quiet in the shadows, observing them. She wasn't stupid, she knew they were there to protect Arthur, should they turn out to be enemies.

She could feel Kay's eyes piercing her as he slowly moved his gaze over them, still suspicious, even though Arthur had officially welcomed them. Tristan, on the other hand, gave her a friendly nod when their eyes met.

As for the people at the table, Robin seemed to be as uncomfortable as her. He, too, didn't know how to act, and Emma saw Regina subtly nudge him with her elbow when he picked up the fork with the wrong hand. It must be even harder for him, Emma figured, after having lived in the woods for so long.

Killian, on the other hand, was surprisingly adept at eating like a nobleman, despite only having one hand. He must have learned it in the navy, she thought. His gaze, however, was stubbornly fixed on his plate, and he didn't speak unless spoken to. Most of all, he avoided looking at Arthur.

They had introduced him as Charles, hoping that Arthur wouldn’t recognize him. All of this secrecy had been Killian’s idea. Her parents’ initial thought was to tell Arthur everything and hope for his support, but Killian had been adamant about keeping as much to themselves as possible. And yet, he still hadn’t told them how they knew each other. And honestly, his secrecy about his past in Camelot was pissing her off. They were trying to save his daughter, and they really needed to know why Morgause had taken her in the first place. And even if he didn’t know the answer to that question, they might be able to figure it out if he just talked to them. If he at least talked to her.

She remembered the night they’d found Calie. He’d had a nightmare, and he’d been at the brink of telling her about it before David’s call. Back then, it had been so easy. Now, things were tense between them, and apparently he didn’t trust her enough to speak to her. Not anymore.

Facing him, to Arthur's left, sat Lady Elaine, who hadn't spoken much either. Emma wasn't entirely sure who she was or why she was at the table. As far as she knew, her kingdom had been destroyed, and now she lived in Camelot and painted pictures to thank Arthur for taking her in.

She noticed that every now and then, Elaine’s gaze flickered over the guests. She thought she had seen it linger on Killian, but she pushed that thought away. She must have imagined it. Besides, there were more important things to worry about right now.

"May I ask how you ended up in a portal to Camelot?" Arthur asked after a while, lifting the wine to his lips. Snow and David quickly exchanged a glance.

"We don't know," Snow said, sticking to the story they had agreed on earlier. “We were all in the throne room of our castle when suddenly, the portal appeared."

"Someone must have created it," Arthur reasoned.

"Surely. But we don't know who would do such a thing," Regina said. They had debated whether they should tell him about Morgause, maybe to get some help fighting her, but in the end, they'd agreed it was best to not even mention her. They didn't want anyone to grow suspicious.

"And you are sure it was none of you?" Arthur asked.

"Absolutely," David assured him. "I can assure you, I have known these people all my life. They wouldn't betray us."

"You never know," Arthur said. "I was betrayed by my own sister. Regardless, I choose to trust you in this matter. I cannot judge your companions better than you. But heed my advice: Be careful. Magic is elusive. And more importantly, it is always evil."

"You seem to have some experience with that," Regina said, smiling amicably.

"Yes, indeed I have."

Arthur hesitated and took another sip from his goblet.

"Have you ever heard of the kingdom of Dumnonia? It is close to Camelot, and it used to be independent until my father and mother's marriage, which joined them. The king was an old man, tired of ruling, and he abdicated. He and his family lived blissfully in their castle, enjoying their lives. My father ordered a protection spell put on them. It was bound to family, so no stranger could enter. I remember visiting them there with him when I was a boy. It was a beautiful place. However, many years later, after my father's death, an evil witch by the name of Morgause found a way to break the spell.” He took a moment to look at each one of them, his face serious. “She killed everyone.”

"That is horrible!" Snow gasped.

"There is more," Arthur continued. "She didn't simply kill them, she... slaughtered them. Every living soul. Even the children and the old. I saw the bodies. The people did not die painlessly, I can assure you. I have never seen anything so gruesome."

"Let us not speak of these things at dinner, please," Lady Elaine interrupted. It was the first time she had spoken after greeting them when they entered.

"You are right. My apologies."

Arthur took another sip of his wine.

"We have suffered from magic as well," David said hesitantly. "There was an evil in our land, known as the Dark One."

"Do not speak this name here!" Arthur hissed. "Yet another ungodly soul that would see this kingdom destroyed!"

"Well, rest assured, he is no longer harmful."

"You defeated him?" Arthur asked incredulously. "How did you manage to achieve such a thing, if I may ask?"

“We banished the darkness to his vault and destroyed the key”, Regina said with a sharp look at David. “No one will ever open it again.”

“That is indeed wonderful to hear”, Arthur said. “Then we shall all drink to his defeat.”

He raised his goblet, and they all joined in.

“I’d like to use this opportunity to invite you to the ball we will have to celebrate the breaking of the curse,” Arthur continued. “It will be a small event, I am afraid we cannot invite the royals of other kingdoms. We will need time to restore our foreign relations. But you, I would be honored if you came.”

“The honor is ours,” Snow replied.

“Morgause!” Nimue called. “I need to speak to you.”

The girl looked up. She had been picking apples in the garden, and now she rose to her feet and started walking towards her.

No, she wasn’t a girl anymore. She hadn’t been for some time now. She was a grown woman, as Nimue reminded herself.

Unlike most le Fays, she didn’t have dark hair and pale eyes. Her hair was blond like Merlin’s, just like she had her dark eyes from him.

She wasn’t beautiful. Her face was hard and edgy like a man’s, and her shoulder’s broader than a lady’s. Nimue had warned her not to swim too much.

“What is it, mother?” Morgause asked. Her voice was not the voice of an obedient daughter. Her words were polite, but her tone was cold and impatient.

Nimue smiled. “Come inside, child. Let us sit together.”

She walked into the house, gesturing for Morgause to take seat. Her daughter didn’t move.

Nimue shrugged, lowering herself onto one of the chairs by the chimney.

“Uther has asked me a favor”, she started.

“Uther?” Morgause exclaimed. “Again? I don’t want to hear it and I won’t!”

She headed for the door, but Nimue snapped her fingers and it slammed shut.

“Yes you will!” she said sharply, giving her a look that Morgause did not dare to talk back to. Quietly, she sat down, crossing her arms in silent rebellion.

“He wants you to marry King Mark of Misthaven.”

“What?” Morgause shouted, slamming her hands on the table. “I am your heir! I cannot marry! Please, mother, tell me you said no!”

“I said yes.”

Morgause jumped to her feet.

“You can’t do that! You can’t let Uther keep using you! You do everything for him, whatever he says, whatever he asks of you, you obey him! You gave him my sister! And where is she now? Married off to some poor fisher, invited over to Avalon once a year at winter solstice! And now you want to do the same to me!”

“Firstly”, Nimue said, her eyes shooting daggers. “Your sister is my concern, not yours. And secondly, I am your mother and you will do as I say. King Mark is an old man, and he has no heir. He is infertile, so you won’t have to bear him children. When he dies, you will rule. When you become queen of Misthaven, you will give the kingdom to Uther. He will unite Camelot and Misthaven. Then you will return to Avalon and take my place.”

Morgause shook her head, her eyes shining with tears. “I won’t do it! You can’t make me!”

“Yes, I can. You know that. But I’d prefer it if you agreed on your own terms.”

“Why do you keep punishing me?” Morgause screamed. “What have I ever done? All the others of my age became woman years ago, and I am still a maiden at twenty five, because you control my every step! Where I am, who I talk to, what I do! You don’t trust me! And now you want me to marry an old king just to give over my kingdom when I become queen?”

“Misthaven is not your kingdom, nor will it ever be,” Nimue said. She was still sitting in her chair, her posture appearing calm, but the look in her eyes would have made the most valiant knight run in fear, and her voice cut through the air like a whip. “Your kingdom is Avalon.”

“My kingdom is an island! Why do we let Uther gain even more power? He is already trying to control us now!”

“He is not trying to control us, we are allies.”

“Only you believe that”, Morgause said bitterly. “Because you love him.”

Nimue was silent for a moment, avoiding her eyes for the first time.

“We don’t choose who we love.”

“Then at least choose not to let it blind you!”

“I am not blinded!”

“Then you must see that he is not a good man, and neither is he a good king! He is weak! We could take over Camelot! Expand our kingdom.”

Morgause’s eyes shone hungrily. She had stopped yelling, and her voice was now a lot calmer. She described her vision with a desperate passion that scared Nimue.

“I will do no such thing, and if I ever hear you speak of it again, I will disinherit you”, Nimue hissed, rising to her feet. “I have enough of your childish dreams. You want to be treated like a woman? Start behaving like one! Accept your fate! It is far better than what most people get!”

“It is still less than you promised me years ago”, Morgause whispered, opening the door with a flick of her hand and leaving the room.

Nimue sat back down, following her with her eyes. She was not ready to rule Avalon, she had once again proven it. She was almost a decade older than Nimue had been when she had begun her training, but there was no point in training her if she expected the world to fall at her feet.

She was powerful, yes, just as they had wanted her to be. But she was also ambitious and selfish. At this point, her power was more of threat than anything.

“Oh, Merlin”, she whispered. “What have we done?”

The royal palace was huge. It had countless stairs and corridors, all different and yet all decorated in the same beautiful, if somewhat showy manner.

Henry loved every part of it. He loved walking around, seeing the fairytale world for the first time. He loved all the medieval-ish things about Camelot. He loved being a prince.

He hadn’t forgotten the reason why they came here, just as he hadn’t forgotten Killian’s dislike for the king and their conversation on witchery. And for that reason, he was never completely trustful of the knights and everyone under Arthur’s command. Well, save for Tristan maybe. He seemed to be a genuinely good guy. And yet, he couldn’t resist the childish excitement that overcame him every time he found something new that would never be possible back in Storybrooke.

He admired the ornaments on the ceiling as well as the paintings on the wall. There was one particular painting that he liked, one that he revisited every now and then when he could. It showed Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. Everything about it was pure perfection, and it captured the heroic moment he had so often imagined.

Henry had always looked up to Arthur when he had read the stories, and everything he had seen of him so far was noble and good. Now, with the witch trials, he was questioning those beliefs. However, a not so small part of him wanted to believe that Arthur had simply met the wrong magicians, and now thought badly of them. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. Maybe, if he knew that magic could be used for good…

“Are you lost, my prince?” he suddenly heard someone say. He spun around, only to face the giant figure of Sir Gawain.

He’d seen the knight around. He was Arthur’s shadow and often followed him wherever he went. He’d expected him to be at the dinner, as well. The dinner he hadn’t been invited to because he was considered ‘too young’.

“I’m fine, thank you, Sir”, he replied politely.

He turned back to the painting, but Gawain didn’t seem to get the hint.

“You appear to take a great interest in our palace”, he said.

“It’s just interesting to see one. Another one, I mean”, he quickly corrected himself. “I know ours like the back of my hand.”

“Would you like to see more?” the knight offered.

“More?”

“I could show you around the castle. And the forecourt, if you want.”

Henry eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”

The knight smiled amusedly. “Because I know what it means to be a curious boy. And it is safer if you are with me than if you wander around alone.”

Henry quickly considered his offer. He was a knight of the court, right? He knew Gawain from the stories, he was a good guy. He had no reason to distrust him. Should he tell Gold and Belle where he was going? At first he thought that yes, he should, or they’d be worried. But, he reasoned, he wouldn’t be gone for long. And no one ever told him about their plans. He was old enough to make decisions on his own.

So he looked at the knight and shrugged.

“Sure, I’d love to see more.”

Henry eagerly followed him down the stairs to the main hall.

“What do you mean by ‘safer with you’?” he asked on their way out. “Is it not safe here?”

“In a land of sorcery, you can never be safe”, Gawain replied. “Do you have sorcery in your land?”

“Yeah, we do”, Henry answered. Then he caught himself. “I mean, I’ve heard of it. But we never encountered it.”

“The you are very lucky”, Gawain commented. “Do you have siblings?”

“I have a sister”, he replied, not wanting to explain that she was only his stepsister and actually his aunt. “And a brother”, he added, thinking about Roland.

Gawain nodded in satisfaction. “It is always good to have more than one heir, especially in a royal family.”

The forecourt was a beautiful place. He’d caught a glance of it when they’d arrived in the carriage, but now, taking in the sheer size of it, it was simply breathtaking.

It was a busy place, bustling with people and filled with carriages. Some were royal. Others seemed to belong to merchants trying to sell their ware. Guards patrolled the place to make sure everything was done orderly.

Around the forecourt there were trees and bushes, the outlines of the royal gardens. Other than some gardens that he had seen in his school textbooks, these ones weren’t perfectly tamed and symmetrical. They were beautiful and cared for, yes, but there was still something wild about them.

They crossed the place when Henry noticed a giant wooden pole in the middle of it.

“What is that?” he asked as Gawain led him closer.

From up close, he could see many markings in the wood, as if they were counting something.

“This”, the knight announced proudly, “is the proof of the good work our king and his father have done for this kingdom. Every single marking represents an evil witch, burned at the stake.”

Henry suddenly went quiet, all his ideas of Arthur’s nobility vanquished from his mind as he took in the sheer amount of innocent people that had died for nothing. The pole was covered in markings, as far as he could look. There must be hundreds of them. These couldn’t all be evil. They were probably not even all witches.

“Look at this one.” Gawain pointed at a marking somewhere further up. It was significantly longer than the others, and crossed by a smaller one on one end. “The king’s own sister. A cunning witch. Happens in the best families. It was a shock for his majesty, of course. He had to eliminate her and her daughter, to make sure they wouldn’t harm anyone anymore.”

Henry focused on the smaller notch crossing the big one, and felt his stomach turn.

“I need to pee”, he suddenly said, not bearing to hear anything else the knight said.

“Excuse me, my prince?”

“I… was wondering if I could use the bushes.”

Gawain frowned.

“Surely for a prince it is not fit…”

“It’s really urgent”, Henry said, disappearing before the knight could stop him.

He made sure Gawain couldn’t see him anymore before sitting down, cowering behind the branches. He needed to take a deep breath. The notch on the pole appeared before his inner eye, together with the smaller one crossing it. The king’s sister and her daughter. How old had she been? Not old enough to get her own marking, apparently. He was utterly disgusted, and for a moment he thought he might throw up.

Suddenly there was uproar at the market.

“Thief!” someone shouted. “Stop the boy!”

Henry pushed a few branches aside and saw a hooded figure running towards him. A guard caught the thief by his wrist and yanked back his hood.

“It’s a girl!” he screamed. He looked at her, and suddenly her hair started to change, becoming darker and longer.

“A WITCH!” he shouted, stepping back and crossing himself. Gawain strode forward, drawing his sword with a disgusted snarl on his face, but the girl pushed the air and he flew backwards.

She started running towards the gardens, coming right at Henry. Not even thinking what he was doing, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her deeper into the forest. At first she fought him.

“I’m helping you!” he assured her.

He could hear the guards behind them catching up. Suddenly he got an idea.

“Run!” he told her, letting go of her wrist.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought of that!” she hissed.

“I’m gonna distract them, find a place to hide!”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but when she heard Gawain yell instructions nearby, she took off.

Henry nervously licked his lips. He really hoped this would work. He sat down by the tree and quickly tried to rub his clothes in dirt, roughening them up in the process. Shortly after, the guards appeared before him.

“There you are, my prince!”

Gawain extended an arm and pulled him up.

“Are you injured? There is an evil sorceress in these woods, it is a miracle that you are unharmed!”

“Yes, I know, I s-saw her!” Henry did his best to appear scared. “She came by and p-pushed me away. W-without touching me!”

“Sorcery,” Gawain said darkly.

“She went that way!” Henry pointed to his right, as far away from the girl as possible.

“Thank you, my prince. You shouldn’t be on your own.”

“I’ll be alright. You...you’ll catch her, right?”

“Of course. Better get back to the castle. It is safer there.” With one last look at him, the knight ordered the guards to follow him and ran off.

Henry waited a few moments to be sure they couldn’t see him anymore, then he turned followed after the girl.

“Hey!” he called quietly. “It’s me, they’re gone!”

He tried to find clues as to where she might have gone, broken branches or something alike, but he couldn’t see anything. In that moment, he really wished Robin or his grandmother were there. They’d find her.

He stopped when he reached the castle wall. If she had left the grounds, he wouldn’t find her. That was probably a good thing, after all, it meant she was safe. And yet, somehow he was disappointed.

Suddenly an unripe plum hit him on the head.

“Ouch!” Henry exclaimed, bringing up his hand to rub the spot.

He looked up. There, up in the tree, sat the fugitive, grinning unashamedly.

“Watch where you’re going!” she called.

“The guards are gone,” Henry told her. “I told them you went the other way.”

“My hero”, she scoffed. “What are you waiting for? Come up and see!”

“You mean… climb the tree?”

“Unless you can grow wings I’m afraid you’ll have to!”

He hesitated, considering the task before him. The tree had some strong looking boughs close to the ground, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. He grabbed the first one and pulled himself up. After regaining his balance, he reached for the next one.

“No, not that one, try the one to your right!” the girl called from above.

It took him a few minutes, but finally he pulled himself up next to her.

“So…,” he said after finding his balance. “This is what you do, then. Sit on trees and throw plums on people.”

“Sometimes,” she grinned. “Although I also like to just enjoy the view.”

Henry looked around. He could see a good deal of the garden from up here, and even caught a glimpse of the forecourt. He could also look across the wall and see the moat from here.

“Yeah, I can’t leave,” the girl said. “Obviously. The only way out is over the drawbridge, and they’re not gonna let me. I’m stuck.”

Henry turned his head, noticing the loaf of bread she was holding in her arms. This was probably what she had stolen.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I could ask you the same.”

“You have magic. What blew your cover?”

“What makes you think I’d trust you?” she snapped, her voice suddenly sharp.

“I saved your life,” Henry reasoned. “Plus, you invited me on the tree. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe pushing you down seemed like the easiest way to kill you,” she shot back.

Her fingers dug into the bread and angrily ripped out a small piece, which she stuffed in her mouth. When he didn’t answer, she sighed.

“Kara. My name’s Kara. Your turn.”

“I’m Henry. Prince Henry,” he suddenly remembered.

She burst out laughing, a sound that quickly turned into coughing, since she still had bread in her mouth. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips to muffle the sound.

“Prince Henry?” she said when she caught herself. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? You’re no prince. Besides, there is no Prince Henry in Camelot!”

She stuffed the rest of the bread into the inside of her cloak.

“I never said I was from Camelot!” he said, wounded and starting to regret he’d mentioned it at all.

“Alright, Prince Henry from not-Camelot, why did you help me?”

While she was waiting for an answer, she pulled a small piece of rope from her pocket and started to loosely braid her hair over her shoulder.

“They would’ve killed you,” he said.

“Why does that bother you?” she asked “I’m a stranger to you. Why do you care?”

“Because it’s not right!” Henry answered through gritted teeth. “I know magic. Where I come from, it’s normal. It’s not seen as evil. It saved us many times! I know that magic doesn’t make you a villain!”

She eyes him suspiciously. “A land where magic is normal? I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true, I promise you!” he insisted. “My…” He leaned closer and whispered: “My mom has magic. Both my moms, actually. And my dad’s dad. And his dad, but he was evil, so that’s not a good example. So was my mom’s mom. One of them.”

While he was talking, Kara’s right eyebrow rose higher and higher.

“You seem to have quite the family tree.”

“Yeah. So… you can trust me. I’m not gonna sell you out.”

She hesitated, focusing on braiding her hair instead. Finally she used the rope to fix her braid and threw it back over her shoulder.

“I’m still learning. I thought I could change my face for long enough, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Who’s teaching you?” Henry asked.

“My mother. Well… she was.” She looked down at her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Henry mumbled. “I lost my Dad, too.”

“What? No! She’s not dead!” Kara said. “She’s just… being held captive.”

“By Arthur? Because she’s a witch?”

“No, not Arthur.” She took a deep breath. “Morgause le Fay.”

“Morgause… Morgause le Fay?” Henry gasped.

Kara’s head turned sharply. “You know her? How?”

“She took someone from my family, too. My sister. That’s why we’re here!”

“Sorry”, Kara mumbled.

Henry shrugged. “We’ll get her back. It’s kinda what my family does. We fight villains, and we always find each other.”

“You’ve never stood up to Morgause. She’s… she’s a demon.”

“They said that about Pan as well. My evil great-grandfather. And we beat him”, Henry said confidently. “We’ll find my sister, and your mom. I promise you.”

Kara’s fingers peeled at the bark, raining tiny pieces of wood on the ground beneath them.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned him. “Finding them isn’t the problem. I know where she’s keeping my mother. I just can’t get in.”

Henry frowned. “Wait… you know where she’s keeping her? And Calie?”

“I don’t know about your sister, but how many hiding places can she have?”

Henry tried to turn on the branch, and as a result he almost fell off. He grabbed the wood tightly to regain his balance.

“We can work together! I could smuggle you into the castle, and my family could hide you, and then we’d find a way to free your mom and my sister together!”

“You could never smuggle me into the castle”, she said. “Especially now that they’ve seen me. They will be very alert.”

He wanted to protest, but he knew she was right. Even if she could change her face again, it would only last her until they entered the castle. Magic was blocked there, and everyone would see her change back.

“What if I bring them to you?” he asked instead. “I’ll tell them, and then we can plan something together. Think about it! We’re fighting the same enemy, it’s the only thing that makes sense!”

“Alright,” she said, drawing out the word. “I trust you, Prince Henry from not-Camelot. Don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t!” he assured her, climbing down and jumping to the ground when he wasn’t as high anymore. “I’ll come back. And I’ll bring you some real food!”

[all-sortsa-stuff]

A new start, part 6

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2133

Warnings: Language and fluff =)

 Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

 Once Chris had driven away, you finally went into the house.  Everything felt different.  Everything looked better.  You were past your crush and heavily into liking this man.  There was not so much fear anymore.  Getting to know him, the man he was, helped that.  He showed you how you should be treated whether as a friend or as something more.  Tonight had been wonderful and you felt like you were going to burst out of your skin with excitement.  There was no way you were going to be able to sleep at this point.  At least not until you got rid of some of the energy surging through your veins.  You turned up the music on your phone and took a shower first thing.  Singing at the top of your lungs and dancing in the shower stall.  The dance party continued for at least another thirty minutes in the bedroom after you had gotten your pajamas on.  

As your body started to tire out, you received a text message.  You looked at the clock and realized it was just after midnight, your heart started to beat wildly thinking something was wrong.  Running over to your phone, you saw it was from Chris.

You awake?  I can’t sleep.  

Sighing loudly you climbed into bed, giving yourself a few moments to let your heart rate return to normal.

Actually yes I am.  Your text just scared the shit out of me.

His return text was quick.

Sorry.  I know it’s late.  I just couldn’t sleep.  Honestly I am too hyped up from our date.

You read over the words several times before you responded.  It boggled your mind that he was feeling the exact same way you were right now.  

I am too.  I’ve been dancing around like a mad woman trying to get rid of some of this energy.

I debated going for a run but it’s late and I don’t need an ax murderer hacking me to death.  The headlines would suck.

You laughed aloud, shaking your head.  The man was insane.

Yeah it would be awful.  “Captain America can’t hack it”

LOL Wow that’s even worse. Really glad now I didn’t go.

Smiling, you settled back into bed.  As you thought about it, you did not have to be on set until the afternoon.  You had scenes with some of the supporting actors in the movie.  The scenes with Chris would not be until the day after.  They were fewer now that the movie was close to finishing.  Only two more weeks to go, then you would head home for a month before you were slated for your next filming.  Since you did not have to be up early, you made the choice, flipped through your contacts and hit send.  Chris picked up almost immediately.

“I wasn’t expecting a phone call.  Just thought we would text until one of us crashed.”  That damn voice of his made your stomach do a flip as soon as your heard it.

“I know.  But neither of us can sleep and I wanted to talk.  We can go back to texting if you want.”  In your mind, you were yelling ‘please say no, please say no!’

“No, no.  I’m glad to hear your voice.  Didn’t think I would get to talk to you till tomorrow.  Though I guess it is tomorrow now.”  You were sure you could hear a smile in his voice and it made your cheeks flame.  Just as always talking with Chris was easy and was effortless.  The pair of you getting to know each other in a different way. He asked questions he had always wanted to know, like your favorite book and what was your go-to snack.  Then when you asked, he told you all about his favorite pet as a child and how his sisters used to torment him when they were younger.  It was close to three in the morning by the time either of you realized it.  Chris said he wanted you to sleep even though he could keep talking to you for the rest of the night.  Begrudgingly you said goodnight, falling asleep not long after.

 Hours later, you were woken by an annoying buzzing sound.  The fog in your brain slowly dissipating as the noise stopped then sounded again just moments later.  It was then you realized it was your phone vibrating on the bedside table.  Not bothering to look to see who it was you answered with a sleepy, “hello?”

“I have been trying to call you for an hour. Have you been sleeping this whole time?”  It was Chris and he sounded way too awake for going to bed so late.

“Yes, some of us require more than four hours of beauty sleep to function.  Why have you been calling me for an hour?”  You had not pried your eyes open yet.

“Wow so I get to tell you this?  That’s amazing.”

“Spit it out Evans.” The level of your patience was dwindling quickly.  Chris laughed in your ear.

“[Y/N] you were nominated for best actress for Deep dark corner.  They announced it this morning.”  Your end of the line went very quiet.  This had to be a dream, how was it possible for one, that you did not know the nominations were today and two… how the hell were you nominated?  “[Y/N]?  You better not have fallen back asleep on me.”

“No, no I’m here. Holy shit.  Am I dreaming?  Fuck. I’m awake.  Oh my God, Chris!”  Sitting up quickly in bed you covered your mouth as you screamed your excitement. He laughed on the other end of the phone as he listened to you.  Hearing your joy made him grin and it just added to his own excitement for the surprise he was now planning.  As you were trying to calm down your phone vibrated again with another call.  This time from your manager.  “Chris can I call you back?  My manager is calling and I know he had got to be freaking out too.”

“Of course.  Call me back when you can, if not I will probably see you on set later.”  Saying your goodbyes, you switched over to the other line.  Mike, your manager, was beyond excited.  He, too, had been trying to call you for hours.  In the time you were on the phone with him seven more texts and three phone calls came in.  Every person you knew wanted to say congratulations and give their love.  After talking to Mike, you called your mom who kept you on the phone for thirty minutes.  Every time you tried to say you had to go she kept talking.  Finally you just took the phone with you to the bathroom so you could pee, because she was going on about how proud she was and how she knew that movie was going to put you on the map.

Towards the end of the phone call, she finally slowed down to ask, “Who are you taking as your date to this thing?”  That question stopped you in your tracks.  It was not something you had thought about yet.  She mentioned something about taking your father or Jake. Chris popped into your mind but it was probably too soon to ask him something like that.  It was a huge deal, and maybe he was not ready to define whatever was going on between you.  As soon as you got off the phone with your mother, your favorite designer called. He was lesser known in the design world but you had bonded over pretty dresses one visit to New York.  Since then you used him more for your dresses and outfits than anyone else.  He called to ask what you wanted to look like and how he was going to send an assistant out this week to measure you, so that he could get started with the designs.

It took hours for you to finally call and text everyone back.  You had gotten a long shower and brushed your hair out before heading to the set.  As you walked up to your trailer, another text came through.  Even though you had taken the name out of your contact list, you recognized the number.  David texted to say ‘Congrats beautiful. You deserve it.’  You stared at the message for a moment then decided to not respond. He was no longer important and did not need an answer.  Opening your trailer door the scent of flowers hit you.  Walking up the entire interior was covered with hundreds of different colored roses.    Every bouquet was multicolored except one.  One solid white bouquet sat at your makeup chair.  There was a card sticking out with your name on it.

If I could have filled your house with roses I would have. I’m so proud of you. Congratulations [Y/N].  

~ C

Chris remembered from one conversations months ago that your favorite flower was a white rose.  How did he pull this together so quickly?!  You teared up as you gazed around the room. No one had ever done anything for you like this before.  He made you feel more special in the short time you had known him, than any other man had in the entire span of the relationship.  Wiping your eyes, you pulled your phone from your pocket.  As you started to dial there was a knock at your trailer door.  You opened it to find Chris standing there with the biggest grin on his face.  Not wasting a breath, you launched yourself into his arms hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much.  I can’t believe you did that.  You are crazy.”  He laughed as he held you tight.

“I wanted to see you smile. But, this is better.  And yeah I know I am crazy, crazy about you.”  He did it again.  Your heart nearly exploded in your chest.  Pulling back to look at him you forgot what you were going to say. His blue eyes were staring down at you, causing everything inside you to do the opposite of what it was made to do. Chris’s smile disappeared as he started to look nervous with you looking up at him.  However, it was too late for you then, you wanted this.  Leaning up on your toes you pressed your lips softly to his. He was hesitant at first to return the kiss, but only for a second.  Soon his response matched your own as his hand held the back of your head lightly.  It was far better than the kisses you had on set. This was real.  This was not acting between you and it felt wonderful. Chris was the first to pull back, though it was reluctantly.    “That was… great.”

You nodded with a quiet giggle.  “It was better than great.  It was amazing.”  He still held you in his arms as he ran his thumb across your cheek.

“[Y/N] I want this with you. Just you and me.  I’m not seeing anyone else.  I don’t plan to.  You understand that?”  His sincerity blew you away.  He wanted to be just with you.  As much as it scared you, you needed that new start.  Just like your dad had said.  You wanted that new start with Chris.

“I think I understand. I guess that means you’re my boyfriend Christopher Evans.”  As much as you joked, you were just as serious as he was.  He laughed stealing another soft kiss.

“Damn right.”  

“So then you wouldn’t be upset if I asked you to escort me to the awards in a month?  I need a date and I’m pretty sure I want my boyfriend to enjoy that night with me.  Even when I don’t win.”  You could only hope now he would say yes.  That he would be willing to go public at that point with your relationship.

“[Y/N], I would do anything you wanted.  I would love to take you.  You sure you want the world to know about the dork you are dating?  And you are going to win.”  

“You sure you want the world to know the pain in the ass you are dating?”  Both of you smiled at the same time.

“Hell yes.  I’m proud of you, in case you didn’t get a chance to read the card.”  He kissed you again, this time it lingered far longer than the first one.  One of the set assistants finally had to break the two of you apart because you had to get ready for your scenes.  The poor woman had an awful blush at having to do so.  The rest of the day, you were walking on clouds.  Between your nomination and now having a defined status with Chris, you could not remember the last time you had been so happy.

Part 7

tags: @feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @mysteriouslyme81 @thegirlwithnodragontattoo @magellan-88  @thedoctorsnerdgirl  @waywardswain @tacohead13  @beckyboo1188  @pegasusdragontiger  @smoothdogsgirl  @kitty11223  @smoothdogsgirl  @castellandiangelo @jensenxnina  @our-chaoticwhispers @sf0206

[stubblesandwich]

The Princess and the Apple Tree - Part Three

Author Note:  Thank you all for bearing with me and being so patient in awaiting this last part, the conclusion of our tale. I can't say thank you enough for all those who have left comments and messaged me directly about this story. I never expected it would be so enjoyed, and it warms my heart. I hope I've done well by you all in the end.

Thanks to my girl @bleebug for looking over this for me and squeeing in all the right parts. I'm also incredibly thankful to my dear friend @sunbeamsandmoonrays, who made a lovely graphic based on the first chapter of this story. (If anyone felt compelled to do any type of artwork based on this tale, I'd die of happiness, so please tag me if you do!) Thanks for reading!  Summary:  Princess Emma knows no better place than the expansive garden that was built for her as a small child. When a young thief dares to scale the garden’s walls, Emma finds herself befriending Killian Jones, a boy who lives in her kingdom. Over time, they become inseparable, and as they grow, so does their love for one another–until the day Killian mysteriously disappears, and Emma finds herself strangely drawn to an apple tree that appears in her garden. A Lieutenant Duckling-inspired fairy tale, inspired by an A.A. Milne story with the same title.

Words: 3,700+

Chapters on A03: (1) / (2) / (3)

Chapters on Tumblr: (1) / (2) 

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

Throughout time, there had been much speculation about True Love—whether it existed, firstly, and secondly, in a more secretive debate, whether it held power. Most kingdoms were not built upon love's promises, as few royals married for affection when arranged marriages and business mergers were generally much more beneficial. Those who did marry for love, royal and commoner alike, always wondered whether their love met the standard for what could be considered True love.

With some couples, for better or for worse, it was self-evident.

King David and his Queen, Snow, were one such couple. Their love was one of which sonnets were written, and ballads sung in the streets. Their kingdom thrived, its denizens secure in the knowledge of their rulers' hearts. For when one ruled in love, the whole kingdom felt it.

Much speculation had also been made through the centuries about what came of True Love. A child born of it, rarer still than True Love, itself, was said to possess power all its own, the lightest and purest form of magic.

Of course, this was speculation derived from mages, sorcerers, and other magic-wielding folk who had the experience and knowledge to even entertain such thoughts. Most people gave little thought to True Love and absolutely no thought to what extra power one such couple's children could potentially possess, and life went on as usual.

In truth, True Love was a magic all its own, and the power it created when it brought forth new life was insurmountable.

Unbeknownst to her, Princess Emma possessed such power. It lay in recess, a subtle hum of strength beneath her skin, a fire behind her eyes. It was why her garden flourished beneath her touch, thriving far better in her care than any of the palace gardeners had ever seen before.

As the ax struck again, Emma's heart seized. The basket slipped from her hand, her breakfast spilling out onto the grass as she took off, racing along the main path, toward the center of the garden—toward her apple tree.

Her father stood before it, ax in hand. King David, not hearing her approach, raised his ax to take another swing at the tree, which already bore a deep, irreparable gash. Emma slammed into him, nearly knocking the king to the ground. With a ferocity that made her father gape in shock, she reached for the ax and began to wrestle it out of his hands.

The king, momentarily flabbergasted, soon found his voice. “Emma,” he said, all the authority of a ruler threading his tone, “This is for your own good.”

The look that flitted across her face was enough to break his heart, but he held fast.

Emma paused and stared up at her father. Her face bore an expression of utter disbelief, which quickly morphed into a stubborn anger.

“No,” she said, firmly.

For a long while, neither spoke a word. A tense silence spread out between them.

Emma was the first to move. She stepped back, away from him, moving to stand in front of the apple tree. The king's face fell, his stern expression melting. He watched his daughter as she pressed her back to the tree, holding out her arms as if to shield it, leaning into the gash he had created with the ax.

King David heaved a sigh, eventually letting the ax drop heavily to the grass. The moment remained strained, each at a loss for words, completely unable to understand the other. Emma continued to look at her father, questioning everything she had ever known him to be, and the king watched his daughter with mounting worry.

As soon as the ax fell and Emma knew her tree was out of danger, she turned toward it. Gingerly, she reached out and touched the gash the blade had left. It was deep, nearly reaching the middle of the trunk. Had she been a minute later, the tree surely would have been felled.

Tears sprang to her eyes, spilling immediately. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered once, and then again, until the words became the only ones she knew how to say. Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against its trunk, utterly and completely heartbroken. The gash was below eye level, nearly lining up with her chest. She could feel the tree quivering weakly beneath her, but broken as it was, it still held her weight faithfully as she leaned against it.  

Suddenly, the bark beneath Emma's palm began to glow faintly, turning white beneath her hand. Slowly, the trunk began to heal, knitting back together beneath her touch.

The king's jaw dropped in amazement. Never had he seen such magic. The trunk of the apple tree was completely healed. Had he not cut into it himself, he never would have known an ax had been taken to it.

The princess stood completely still, pressed against the trunk of the tree.

“There,” she whispered softly. “All better.”

In a sweet gesture beseeching forgiveness, she pressed her lips to the tree's bark, over the scarred knot of wood where the ax had first sunk into its trunk.

Abruptly, there was a quick burst of colorful light and a force that knocked Emma backward. She landed hard on her back, the breath driven from her lungs in a rush of air. Her father cried out, starting toward her, but he stopped as the tree began to tremble, its branches thrashing violently above their heads.

The apple tree's branches shrank back, pulling themselves out of Emma's view, and she was left staring up at the clouds.

Dazed, she pushed herself up slowly with one elbow, lungs still aching from the force of her landing.

“Emma?” came a low, quiet voice that made her freeze.

Emma's blood ran cold, as if she had heard the whisper of a ghost. She scrambled into a sitting position, eyes nearly bugging out of her head.

Killian Jones stood a few feet in front of her her, dressed in his naval officer's uniform. He looked about as dumbfounded as she felt. His mouth had gone slack as he stared at her with widened eyes.

The tree was gone, seemingly vanished into thin air, and in its place stood her childhood friend.

A sob hitched in her throat, and without so much as another thought, she was running for him, launching herself into his arms.

As shocked as he seemed, Killian caught her easily enough, raising her up above his head as he threw his head back with a loud laugh. Her skirts twirled as he spun her once, before he brought her down to the ground gently and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He barked out a quick laugh, grinning at her wildly as he pulled back, and suddenly Emma's heart was soaring.

She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him to her as if her life depended on it. Killian laughed again, a deep, hearty bellow of mirth that she had missed so dearly. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him with no intent to ever let her go.

Emma's eyes were streaming a continuous flow of happy, unbelieving tears. “You--” she started, her words lost in a shaky, incredulous laugh. “You were--”

“I'm here,” he assured her, voice hitching, “I'm right here. I've always been here.”

They clung to each other, desperate to be near one another after all the time they had spent apart. Emma was the more desperate of the two, and she kept pulling back to touch his face, making sure he was really there.

She began kissing him, over and over, pecking his face with affectionate little kisses, as if he was going to disappear again at any moment. Killian slipped his fingers beneath her chin, guiding her mouth to his, to capture her lips in a kiss.

The king, who was standing to the side as the horrible realization dawned over him that he had somehow nearly cut a human being in half with his ax, turned away as the two began to kiss, his cheeks dusted in blush. When the moment began to grow more heated between the two, the king cleared his throat loudly, and Emma and Killian separated with a start.

Frantically, Emma reached for Killian's hand, grasping it firmly in hers.

“Oh, papa,” she said, “I'm sorry, this... This is Killian.”

Killian, slightly breathless from their kissing, blushed fiercely and leaned forward in a short bow.

The king still could not manage to wipe the shock from his face. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few long strides, and pulled them both into a tight embrace.

“Gods,” he whispered hoarsely, “I nearly killed you.” Tears sprang into his eyes, and when he pulled away, he clapped Killian once on the shoulder. “How on earth did you--”

“The Dark One,” Killian answered gravely. The king's eyes went wide and Emma gasped softly at his side. “I was waiting here to see Emma, and he cursed me so I could never be with her again.”

King David nodded tersely. He put his hand on Killian's shoulder again, squeezing it gently. “My boy,” he said, “I am so sorry. Emma,” he turned to her, “Please, forgive me. Please.”

Emma stared at him for a moment before her eyes flitted back to Killian. She hesitated, then gave a short nod. “You helped me find him again, papa.”

King David released the breath he had been holding with a huff of relief. His gaze shot back and forth between the two of them. “If I had any idea, I...” he trailed off, unable to voice what he had almost done. “We were so concerned for you, Emma. We couldn't get you to leave that tree,” His eyes shot to Killian, who offered up a weak smile. “We were worried for your safety. I didn't know what else to do. I thought if the tree was gone, you might come back to us.”

Emma released a shaky breath as she squeezed Killian's hand tighter at her side. The thought of what had nearly happened to him still made her want to faint. She shook her head once. “It doesn't matter. Not anymore, now that Killian's come back to me.”

King David smiled gently, and his heart swelled with pride at his daughter's grace. “You knew,” he said quietly. “Somehow, you knew it was him, didn't you? That's why you hardly left that tree.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her. She hadn't known the apple tree was Killian—not really. How could she have known?

“I don't know,” she finally managed to offer. “I just felt drawn to it—to him. I was so worried, every day, because no one seemed to have any idea where Killian had gone. But, my tree...” She trailed off, and turned her gaze again to Killian, who was looking at her with nothing shy of adoration. “My tree gave me strength.”

The King nodded. “And that was... That was True Love's kiss that changed you back,” he murmured. “The same magic that awoke Snow—your mother—from her glass coffin.”

Emma gave a slight blush and nodded. Killian's jaw dropped slightly, and he stared at Emma with widened eyes, as if he had been missing that piece of the puzzle until that very moment. David chuckled.

“I'm going to go tell your mother,” he said, and his eyes flit between Emma and Killian, lingering an uncomfortable amount of time on the latter, until Killian began to shift on his feet nervously. “I'll give you two some time alone,” David continued, “And then we shall have a feast to celebrate.”

David winked at his daughter, who beamed back at him. With that, the king left. The heavy wooden doors to the castle swung back into place with a heavy clang, and the two  were finally alone.

They turned to one another slowly, almost shyly. Emma squeezed Killian's hand, and he responded by pulling her closer, letting his other hand rest lightly on her hip. In their reunion, all propriety had been discarded. The appropriate distance for a princess and an unofficial, commoner suitor was disregarded, each anchored to reality by the other's touch.

Tears welled in her eyes again, and her lower lip began to quiver. “Killian Jones,” she whispered, and he leaned his forehead into hers in response, “I have missed you so much.”

His nose swept over hers, and he bent forward to take her lips in another kiss. It was sweet, laced in tenderness, and for a moment, the two were lost in the slow dance of the other's lips against theirs. Killian brought his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and she gave a hum of appreciation.

Despite the tenderness of their kiss, they were breathless when they finally parted. Killian reached up to brush a wayward strand of her hair from off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Emma smiled adoringly at him, the two of them swaying just slightly as she leaned into him. “Could you hear me?” she asked him. “When I was telling you all those stories?”

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “I was hanging on every word, love. It was your voice in my head that kept me sane.”

She smiled at that, until the smile faltered abruptly and her lower lip began to quiver once more. “I should have known,” she whispered, voice breaking halfway through, “I should have known it was you.” Killian shook his head vehemently. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth, and kissed it.

“All this time,” she went on, “And you were right here, in my garden. I thought you were dead! Killian, I thought you were dead.” She was crying openly now, weeping over the time with him she had lost, her heart cursing the Dark One and all he had stolen from her.

“Hey,” Killian whispered, pulling her out of her wayward thoughts and back to his side, “Emma, my love, please. Don't do this to yourself.” He brushed his lips over hers, tasting the salt of her tears. “You didn't know. Darling, you didn't know. You couldn't have known.”

Emma nodded, but they both knew she didn't believe his words. Killian watched her for a moment, mulling a thought, until he gave a quick nod and, taking her hand, led her to their bench. “Come,” he said, “Sit with me awhile.”

He sat first, pulling her hand gently, until she came to sit beside him. Her head immediately found his shoulder, leaning into it wearily.

They sat quietly for a few moments, each simply enjoying the other's company. The garden was quiet, as it was most afternoons. Now and again, a bird would call out a short melody from among the hedges.

Emma sniffled now and again from beside him. Killian was playing with a strand of her hair, flipping its end absentmindedly between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me tell you a story,” he said. “There once was a young lad, poor in circumstance. One day, his eyes happened upon the most beautiful princess in all the land. She was gracious and kind, which only made her all the more beautiful to the boy. Every day, as he worked, he would think of her, and the hours would race by. At night, he dreamed of her. She had taken him as her own, heart and soul, without ever having met him.

“One day, as luck would have it, the boy and the princess did come to meet. The boy was enchanted with the garden she often visited, drawn by its magic. But, nothing would prepare him for the enchantment of the princess, herself. She was more beautiful up close and proved herself to be even kinder than the stories told of her in the village. Just as simply as that, the boy knew he loved her, that he never wanted to be parted from her.

“The boy came to know the princess, and even came to call her his friend. She was the north star by which he had come to guide himself, calling him back day after day. She had captured his heart completely.”

Killian paused then, peering down at Emma. Her head still rested on his shoulder, and her eyes were closed, as she sat lulled by the deep timbre of his voice. “Shall I go on, love?” Killian asked, grinning down at her. “I will warn you, though, the next part gets a bit dicey, but I promise the tale ends happily.”

Emma pulled her head from him and looked up, the smile she wore threatening to split her face in two. “Killian Jones,” she said slowly, “Will you marry me?”

+++

They wed in the garden on a cloudless afternoon. The ceremony was small, minuscule compared to most royal affairs, but for them and to them, it was perfect.

Killian had asked his brother, Liam, to preside over the ceremony. The elder Jones brother had scarcely known a prouder moment in his life.

Killian wore his naval officer's uniform proudly. For her part, Emma wore a long, white gown with elegant, flowing sleeves. It was modeled after the styles the women of Camelot wore, but it fit Emma perfectly, and when Killian lay eyes on her, his smile outshone the sun.

Their vows were simple as they held hands, each promising themselves to the other, knowing even the darkest magic in the kingdom could not part them. In the privacy of an empty garden, they had each said all they needed to say to prove the depth of their love for each other, and that was enough. In front of  a small, albeit eager crowd, the young couple was almost shy, much more reserved with their affection.

(King David, for one, was glad for this.)

As the ceremony ended, the well-wishers came up afterward to congratulate the young couple and offer their blessings. The queen managed to pull her daughter discreetly off to the side, and wiped the tears from her own eyes before she tugged Emma into an embrace.

After a few moments, the queen pulled away and kissed her daughter's forehead, smiling gently at her. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly, “For ever pushing anything upon you but this. You deserve this. You deserve each other. To marry for love is--” She paused, and tears shone in her eyes again, even as her smile held. “A precious thing,” she finished, and Emma had to blink back tears of her own.  

“Thank you, mother,” Emma said. Queen Snow nodded and took her daughter's hand, squeezing it gently. The king came to them then, offering his wife his arm. She took it demurely, and after issuing a sweet kiss to his daughter's brow, the king escorted his queen back to the castle to help organize the feast.

Killian was talking with his brother when Emma rejoined him. “Your highness,” Liam said, offering a smile and a slight bow at the princess' approach. “Though, I suppose now I should be offering Prince Killian here the same treatment.” Killian put his hand on his brother's shoulder, preemptively halting what he anticipated to be a jesting bow.

“No,” Killian said, laughing despite the blush that tinged his ears pink. “Please don't.”

Liam shot Emma a wink. “In all seriousness,” he continued, “It is truly an honor to have you as part of my family, Emma. I can scarcely think of anyone more deserving of my little brother's devotion.” Ignoring a scoff from Killian, he continued, “It was my great privilege to marry you both today.” Emma smiled gratefully and she opened her arms to pull Liam into an embrace. “Thank you, Liam,” she said, issuing a quick kiss to his cheek as she pulled away. “For everything.”

Liam nodded and clapped his brother on the shoulder once before pulling him into an embrace of their own. Assuring them he would see them both at the reception, he took his leave, and finally, Emma and her husband were left alone.

Killian took her hand in his, brought it delicately to his mouth, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Sit with me, love?” Emma nodded, and he led her to their bench.

As strange as it was, Emma had grown accustomed to the shade of the apple tree covering her bench, and when they sat, she had to turn deliberately from the strong light of the sun.

Killian put his arm around her, letting his hand rest at her waist. He leaned in to kiss her temple, pausing to whisper into her ear, “I love you, Emma.”

Emma gave a little hum and turned to look at him. “And I you.”

“You look stunning.”

“And you look--”

Killian gave a half-shrug and smirked at her. “I know.”

Emma snorted quietly, rolling her eyes at him. “I was going to say dashing.”

A genuine smile overtook his features, and it only expired from his face when he leaned in to kiss her again. Emma found his other hand and laced their fingers together as she brought it to rest in her lap.

They were quiet for a few minutes, each reflecting, lost in their own thoughts. As she leaned into him, Emma was struck suddenly with the realization that the same steadfast peace she had felt with her apple tree she felt now with Killian. Only it was different now, and much better. He was here, he was safe, and he had married her.

+++

The celebration in the kingdom lasted an entire week. If the Dark One had gotten wind of his victim's triumphant return to human form, he gave no sign. Emma and Killian each grappled for many years with the idea of seeking revenge for the turmoil he had wrought between them. But, it was a fruitless endeavor, one that would needlessly endanger the entire kingdom. Stories of the Dark One's infamous deeds were cropping up farther and farther away from their land. For the time being, they were safe.

King David and Queen Snow ruled for many years, and the kingdom continued to flourish beneath their reign. When the time came, Emma was a righteous queen, fierce and gentle all at once. Killian was the rock by which she steadied herself, and his deft mind was matched by no other kingdom's rulers.

And when darkness began to creep upon their doorstep, they were ready, hand-in-hand, together.

-----------

Tagging a few people who might be interested 

@queen-mabs-revenge @caprelloidea @flslp87 @laschatzi @ms-babs-gordon @lenfaz @ripplestitchskein@brooke-to-broch @justanotherwannabeclassic @couldnthandleit@trueromantic1 @phiralovesloki @completeshippertrash @cherrywolf713 @galadriel26

@captain–kitten @thejollypirate @seastarved @captainswanismyendgame @the-lady-swan@cinnamonduckling @sunbeamsandmoonrays @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @gusenitsaa@kat2609 @captainswanslay @imhookedonaswan@ohmykilly @weplaydumbb @optomisticgirl@killianisacupcake@briannachick42  @thegladelf  @j-philly-b@thisisevenharderthannamingablog @flipperbrain @nfbagelperson @thegladelf @galadriel26 @welllpthisishappening @the-reason-to-sail-home @blowmiakisscolin @littlebabeswan @ahsagitarius @dreadpirateemma @hisemma @a-faekindagirl @itsalostgirlthing @mrandmrsswan @32variations @onceuponaswans @melsbels @once-a-sailor-always-a-dreamer @i-spilled-my-smoothie @oye-genesis @unfolded73fics