#spent the last couple hours of 2021 writing this and the last fifteen minutes of it furiously typing it up

[dinomight]

Some whumptober prompts: Xiao Hua and blindness, with Hei Xiazi helping him through it --- Ransom or auction and Liu Sang ---- Self-induced injuries to escape and XiuXiu ---- "You're still not dead?" and Pangzi ----"Who did this to you" not sure who the whumpee is but Wu Erbai saying it. I would definitely prefer if it had a happy or at least hopeful ending!

ANDDDDD THAT’S A WRAP!!!! fox my beloved here is the last one, as requested!!! thank you so much for sending these in!!!

24. self-induced injuries to escape

Let it be known that Huo Xiuxiu is not offended that she’s been kidnapped. After all, it’s not her first time, and it certainly won’t be her last; in fact, she’s come to find a certain kind of excitement in it. A bit of spice, if you will, to liven up her week.

What is quite offensive is how absolutely incompetent these particular kidnappers are. It would almost be amusing in a way, if that incompetence hadn’t only kicked in when they were tying her up, and not before they’d beaten Xiao Hua unconscious.

“Hold on,” Xiuxiu mutters under her breath as she works at the ropes binding her wrists with a shard of glass. “Hold on, Xiao Hua-gege, just a little longer.”

The glass isn’t the most elegant solution, she’ll admit, but it was the most easily available. Idiots tied her up with rope, and then threw her in the same corner of this cramped room as a couple of broken bottles. She’s not even sure which is worse: the idea that they were too stupid to notice, or that they thought she was too stupid to notice. Either way, Xiuxiu usually prefers the more delicate methods of slipping her bindings, but considering she’s not even sure Xiao Hua’s still breathing—speed is of the essence, at the moment.

Every movement she makes with the glass forces her to bite down on her lip a little bit harder, until she tastes the same sticky iron there that she can feel coating her palms. She’s not sure how many cuts she’s got at this point. Certainly enough to ruin whatever claim she’d had to pretty hands before today.

(The thought doesn’t bother her that much. Of the two of them, Xiao Hua’s always had the better-looking hands, anyways.)

When the rope finally gives, she has to choke back a sob of relief before tossing it and the glass to the side. Her own bloody palms be damned, she scrambles over to Xiao Hua and holds two trembling fingers under his nose.

Whatever relief she’d felt before is a thin note to the chorus that thunders through her when she feels Xiao Hua exhale. “Don’t scare me like that,” she whisper-yells at him, even though he probably can’t hear it. Not that he’d listen even if he could. She keeps going as she struggles to get him on her back, quietly cursing and panting. “I better be your favorite after this, I better not hear one word about Hei-ye for a week after this, I swear—”

She stops herself when she manages to get over to the door. This is the real moment of truth. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the layout of the place on their way in; their kidnappers could be waiting just outside, or they could’ve all left already.

One breath in. One breath out. Xiuxiu shoves the door open.

“Ah, there you are,” Hei Xiazi greets her from just a couple feet away, in what appears to be a badly lit card-playing room. He’s got one hand curled in a half-conscious guy’s jacket collar, the other pulled back in a fist. As she steps, he releases his grip, letting the guy collapse to the floor, taking a folding chair down with him in a loud crash. There are other bodies scattered around, maybe knocked out, maybe dead, she can’t get a good look in before Hei Xiazi’s in front of her.

Xiuxiu immediately leans forward, letting Xiao Hua slide towards him. “Take him, he needs to get to a doctor, they hit him in the head and I don’t—”

Hei Xiazi stops her word vomit with a cluck of his tongue as he shifts Xiao Hua to his own back with ease. (Bastard.) “Doctor’s the first stop, don’t worry. We’ll get you and Hua-er here fixed up in no time.”

“I’m fine,” she says as she follows him across the room to the exit.

That gets her an immediate snort. “You barely touched me and I can still smell your blood all over my jacket. This is my nicest one, by the way.”

“You’d have gotten blood on it anyways, at some point,” she says, frowning, hands held carefully in front of her.

“Sure, but I’d prefer it not be yours.” Hei Xiazi pauses before the door, craning his neck around to look at her. Even with the sunglasses, his gaze feels heavy. “I’m sorry I was late, meimei.”

For a moment, the words just hang between them, a rare glimpse at the human under the hired gun. Then it cracks, as Hei Xiazi grins and adds, “Next time, be a good little damsel in distress and have some patience, okay?”

Xiuxiu rolls her eyes, but as she steps out after him, she thinks: I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

No need to worry about her own hands when there’s always too more pairs willing to catch her, after all.

[billnoncipher]

Losing Time

This story is not in my usual continuity, but was written for Wendip Week 2021, topic "Time Travel."

for Wendip Week 2021

---

Mabel faced a hard decision when she called in that favor.

She was nearly thirty, she was a successful clothing designer, she had a steady romantic partner, life was good. But then on a visit to Gravity Falls, she visited the grave of good old Waddles, whose heart had given out the previous winter, while she was off in New York.

And she hadn't been able to say goodbye.

And despite the fact that she was all grown up and everything, it ripped at her heart—that she hadn't said farewell to her most favorite pet of all time. It wasn't that he hadn't been well cared for—Soos saw to that, giving the pig all the comforts and plenty of food. It wasn't that he was cut off in his youth—seventeen is a good long life for a pig. It's just that—

Well, now she knew how Dipper felt.

Speaking of whom.

Dipper and Wendy were coming up on their tenth wedding anniversary, they had adorable twins, age six, names Alexander and Amanda, and they lived in the Mystery Shack. Grunkles Stan and Ford still technically owned the place, and Soos ran it, but over the years he and Melody had expanded it until their own growing family caused Soos to have a separate house built just across the road, and he and his family of six—he, Melody, Benny, Betty, Alma, and little Stanley—had made the short move. Dipper had inherited Grunkle Ford's role as investigator of the weird, Wendy was a nationally-known consultant on forestry issues, and they took over the living space that Soos had left vacant.

Ford, now semi-retired, still came over to work with Dipper down in the secret labs when some project was afoot. Grunkle Stan came over to help when the Shack was swamped with tourists in vacation season, but he spent a lot of his time visiting casinos all over the world, where his odd luck always brought him a steady income.

The attic bedroom had become disused.

"Can I stay?" Mabel asked in a small voice just at sunup that day. "Just for a couple weeks?"

"Sure, Mabes!" Wendy said. "Any time, you know that."

Dipper, now sporting a goatee and wearing glasses to correct mild myopia, said, "Sis, what's wrong?"

With a sad smile, Mabel said, "You can tell, huh? Just getting all sentimental. Missing Waddles."

"Oh," Dipper said. "That. We're sorry you couldn't make it back in January."

"It was so unexpected," Wendy said. "He was OK, you know, kinda slow and sleepy all the time, and then one morning we found him in his stall. He'd passed in his sleep."

"He was comfortable to the end," Dipper said. "The heat was on. He didn't freeze or anything. He looked peaceful."

"We buried him down the hill," Wendy told her. "Come on, we'll walk you down."

The place was pretty, a small clearing off to the right of the Mystery Trail. Grass had greened the mound, dewy now with the dawn, and—Mabel couldn't help sobbing—Dipper and Wendy had put up a marker, one of those you could buy for a cherished dog or cat. It read,

---

WADDLES

2012-2029

Always Loved

---

"Could you just leave me here for a few minutes?" asked Mabel.

Dipper hugged her. "Sure, Sis," he said. "Take y our time."

Wendy hugged her, too. "You gave him a good life," she said.

When the two had left, Mabel took a deep breath and took something that looked like a thick button from her jeans pocket. She held it between finger and thumb, close to her lips, and said, "OK, Blendin Blandin, you owe me one."

And without fuss, explosions, or special-effects noise, he was there, beside her, in his old uniform. "M-Ma-Mabel," he said, smiling. "Hi. It's be-been a wh-while."

"Yeah," she said. "You're looking—exactly the same. How's Time Baby?"

"Te-te-teething," Blendin said with a grimace. "The ne-next thou-thousand years are go-gonna be hard. I gu-guess you want your fa-favor now?"

"I do," she said. "Waddles passed away last January. I don't want to bring him back to life or anything. I've learned better than that. But I didn't get to see him before he went, and I really want to visit him one last time. So—could I borrow a time tape?"

"I pro-promised," he said. "I always carry a sp-spare these da-days. Here."

"And I also need your advice," Mabel said, accepting the heavy time-travel device. "I want to visit Waddles on the happiest day of his whole life."

"You-you'll have to a-avoid meeting yourself," Blendin warned. "That would be cat-cata-catas—bad."

"Agreed," she said.

"Let me find out how to se-set the co-coordinates, then," he said. "Just a se-second."

He blinked out of existence for just three seconds, then reappeared, slapping at his hair, which was smoldering. "Th-that was two we-weeks of hard wo-work!" he said. "Lucky this-this is m-my va-vacation month. OK, I've reviewed Wa-Waddles' s li-life and this will ta-take you to the ex-exact day when he was happiest. You can ha-have the wh-whole day, or eight hours any-anyway, bu-but remember to a-avoid me-meeting yourself."

"Will do."

Blendin set the time tape, warned, "It will br-bring you ba-back to the present automatically. Ha-have a g-good time-tr-trip."

The strange noiseless explosion, a moment of spinning disorientation, and poof! there she was, at the edge of the woods behind the Shack. The sun was just rising.

"Out you go," she heard a girl's voice say from the back door.

She saw a rectangle of yellow light. Oh, my God, that's me, in my old sleep shirt! I'm twelve! I'm so young!

Her younger self held the door for Waddles—He's so cute and tiny!—and the pig stepped out, sniffed the air, and waddled over close to the woods to take care of his morning business.

Let's see. I always let him out, then had breakfast, then called him back in, so I have about half an hour before I have to duck out of sight.

"Waddles," she called softly.

He heard and galumphed over to her. He knew her. Her different size, her different voice, didn't matter. She scooped him up. "Oh, I love you!" she said as he curled into a ball and nuzzled her cheek. "Let's go for a walk."

She set him down, and they went down the Mystery Trail, past the Bottomless Pit—not yet fenced off—and as far as the bonfire clearing, where she sat on a log and played with him, laughing through tears. "I'm gonna have to say goodbye, later," she whispered. "But remember, no matter what, I'll always love you!"

Too soon she heard her own younger voice calling, probably for the second time and more loudly, "Waddles!"

"Go on," she told the pig, patting his bottom. He trotted back to the other Mabel, his Mabel.

What day is this? Mabel wondered. What day made him happiest?

She sat too long. Someone spoke, startling her. "Whoops, sorry, didn't know anybody was here!"

Wendy.

Mabel stood up. "I was just, uh—I used to come here when I was a girl—" she began.

"Mabel?" Wendy asked, blinking and staring. "Mabel? Is that you?"

"Haven't changed all that much, have I?" she asked. "Oh, my God, you're so young! Can—can I hug you?"

She was a little bit taller than the fifteen-year-old Wendy, who would add a few inches to her height in the next two years. Mabel couldn't help crying again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to let anyone see me. Time travel. I came back to—to visit Waddles."

"Oh, man," Wendy said. "Dipper's told me about this kind of stuff! Come on back to the Shack and surprise him!"

"No, I can't," Mabel said. "Don't even tell him you met me. That would cause problems with time."

"Oh."

Something in Wendy's voice hit her then. "Uh—what's wrong, Wendy?"

"Just—just the end of summer," Wendy faltered. "I—I hate that you and Dip are goin' home today."

Oh, my God! Of course! Waddles thought I was gonna leave him, and I nearly had to, but Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford made the bus driver take him aboard—of course he was happiest on that day!

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Our birthday was yesterday. We turned thirteen."

"Technical teens," Wendy said with a ghost of a grin. A tear ran down her cheek.

"But you don't have to cry," Mabel said.

"I—I guess I can tell you a secret," Wendy said. She sat on the log, and Mabel sat beside her. "See, Dipper admitted to me a while back that he has a crush on me. I already knew, but I had to let him down. You know, me fifteen, him twelve. But now he's going away, and I'll never see him again, and—I just can't tell him I'm kinda-sorta in love with him, too. It's hard, Mabel."

Mabel bit her lip. "Listen," she said. "I may get in big trouble because of this, but—OK, I'm gonna say it. You gotta give Dipper a note. Have all his friends here sign it. You sign it, too. Here's the most important part—write on it 'See you next summer.' And wait for him. He'll come back. And he'll grow up, Wendy. And if you wait for him—it's gonna happen. I promise. Just stay in touch, and—most important—when the time comes, the age difference won't mean a thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Trust me, I know. OK, I've got a few hours today. I'm gonna stay close to the Shack and get in as much time with Waddles as I can. Then I'm going back to the future, and thirteen-year-old Mabel and Dipper are going back to Piedmont. But he doesn't just have a crush, Wendy. He really and truly loves you. So write the note, give it to him before he gets on the bus, and things will all work out. Promise me?"

"Yeah. I promise."

"Oh—and tell Grunkle Stan that when the time comes for us to leave, to make sure Waddles gets on the bus, too! I—Oh, I love you like a sister, Wendy! You won't believe how happy you're gonna be with Dip."

"That—that means a lot to me, Mabes," Wendy whispered.

"OK, you'd better get back. Don't say anything to anyone about this. Be sure to do the note thing. Oh, and Wendy—do me one more favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"Tell Pacifica that Mabel's waiting—in the future. Don't explain."

"All right," Wendy said with a lopsided smile. "I'll do it." She mimed zipping her lip.

The day passed. Out of her eight hours, Mabel spent about three in Waddles's company as her brother and her younger self got ready to leave Gravity Falls. She spent more time standing out of sight, watching things unfold—finally the kids coming out, glum, with their suitcases, the bus pulling up, Dipper and Mabel and—finally—Waddles climbing aboard. And all their friends running as far as they could to see the twins and the pig off.

She stood alone near the Shack. The flash came. Benjamin stood there. "How d-did it go?"

"It went good," Mabel said, handing over the time tape. "I said goodbye." She sniffled and a tear ran down her cheek. "I'll still miss him but I—I can handle it now. Uh, how much time has gone by while I—?"

"A m-minute," Blendin said. "Well, I-I g-guess we're e-even."

"Thanks, Blendin. Goodbye."

"N-no, I d-don't think it's g-goodbye," he said, smiling. "I'll s-see you again. In time."

He flashed out of existence.

"Aunt Mabel!" It was red-headed Amanda, running down the hill to meet her. "Hi!"

Mabel swept her up in her arms. "Hi, Sweetie! Where's your bro-bro?"

Squirming, Amanda laughed. "He can't find his shoes!"

Carrying the six-year old up the hill to the Shack, Mabel laughed. "When your dad was six, he had the same problem! All the time! Every morning!" She paused and looked back at the green grave. "Hey, let me tell you a story about the most special pig in the whole world," she said, and they went back to join the family.

---

The End

[let-it-raines]

I desperately need to see when Killian and Emma get married in catch me if you can please and thanks!

I mean, did you guys really think I could stay away from Catch Me If You Can for long? Obviously not! It was fun to get back into writing this universe (it’s actually been a few months), and I hope you guys continue to enjoy! Feel free to send me prompts of this universe 😊 

Found on ao3 | here |

Original story: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40

-/-

May 12th, 2021

“Are we out of milk?”

“We couldn’t possibly be out of milk.”

“I am looking in the fridge, and I don’t see any.”

“Darling, we went grocery shopping – ” Killian sighs and places his hands on his hips as he taps his foot. “Shit, when was the last time we bought food?”

Emma closes the refrigerator door and turns around before pulling her phone out of the waistband of her leggings, thumbing through the screen with her brows pinched together. “It says our last delivery order was April 13th. That was literally a month ago.”

“I mean, technically it was almost a month ago. Tomorrow it would be a month ago.”

“I would really love if you weren’t an ass right now because I’m hungry, and I really wanted a bowl of cereal.”

Killian shakes his head and steps up to Emma, moving into her space and placing his hands on her hips while his head dips down to her neck so he can kiss the skin there. There’s still the slightest hint of the scent of her perfume from last night, and it will never not be intoxicating. Emma will never not be intoxicating.

“It will take us five minutes to get milk, three if we run across the street instead of walking like civilized human beings.”

Emma hums and cranes her neck to give him more access to her while her hands wrap around his waist, nails scratching at his back. “And buy groceries in person like we’re living a decade ago? That seems like far too much effort.”

He nips at her skin in a place he knows she likes. “I’ll make you brownies if we go.”

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I know the way to yours.”

“Ooh, that was cheesy.”

“We can buy cheese too.”

Emma scoffs and hits his back before moving her head so she can lightly brush her lips against his, quick and fleeting until it isn’t. Life is always nonstop, but once the season starts, it’s an entirely different ballgame. Literally. Either one or both of them are always on the road, and while their work generally happens at the same time, Killian has training and practice and PT while Emma has meetings that usually happen at the rare times when Killian is home. Then there’s the press Ariel has Killian doing lately, and it’s leaving very little time to stand in the kitchen and curl his tongue around Emma’s while her fingers tug on his hair.

Glorious. God, he always loves when she does that. Her hands are like magic.

“You’re very good at this.”

“Kissing you? I would hope so. Otherwise I don’t know why you would have stayed with me for this long.”

Emma’s smile presses into his. “Two years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”

“Aye, but the marriage license we filled out last week says you’re planning on far more than two years.”

Her lips run across his jaw, and a shiver works down Killian’s spine and settles at the bottom as his jeans tighten. “Divorces work. I could divorce you the day after we got married if I wanted.”

“Would you?”

“I could. It would keep the marriage fresh and spicy.”

“I would really appreciate it if you never described our relationship using those two words ever again.”

“Why? That’s what all the old women tell me when they give me unsolicited relationship advice.”

“People not being able to shut their mouths is the exact reason why I didn’t want to announce the engagement.”

“We didn’t, ah – ” Emma’s body shivers at his touch and he smirks into her skin before his hands move down to her leggings, fumbling the slightest bit until he feels flesh. “We didn’t announce it. I started wearing a ring, and the tabloids put it together.”

“Fucking tabloids are the scum of the earth.”

Killian’s hand moves again as he gently nudges Emma back to the countertops, his lips and his teeth only ever moving away from her enough to speak. Her skin is so damn warm and softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he loves getting lost in her. It’s a high greater than any win.

“This doesn’t seem like we’re getting milk,” Emma sighs as he helps boost her up onto the countertop, “and you’re going to kill your knees.”

He arches a brow even though she can’t see it. “What makes you think I’m about to get down on my knees?”

“Because I know you, and I know what we’re heading toward.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you, Swan.”

“Ah, well, if that wasn’t what you were intending, I’d highly suggest it.”

Killian huffs and moves away from Emma’s neck until he’s kissing Emma, pressing his mouth against hers and drinking her in. He’s the luckiest bastard in the world, and for all of the good in his life, there is nothing better than Emma. She changed so much for him, continues to still do so, and he’d be happy to spend every day of his life with her just like this.

Just he and Emma.

Just them.

He pulls back from the kiss, sucking in a breath of air, before resting his forehead against hers. Her hands are still in his hair, his hands are on the outside of her thighs, and he can’t seem to focus on anything but the way her nose presses into his cheek exactly like it’s always belonged there, like it’s always fit there.

Like she’s always fit.

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me, Emma.” He smiles into her lips and then pulls back enough so he can see her eyes. They’ve always been a ridiculously gorgeous shade of green, but right now, they’ve somehow got a hint of blue. “Right now, today.”

Her hand runs through his hair until fingers are pressing against his cheek. “We have a venue booked for forty days from now, have spent far too long picking out cake because you’re a dessert snob, and I have a ridiculously expensive white dress in the closet. And you want to get married today?”

“I want to marry you every day.”

“You’re on it today with the romantic declarations.”

“Are you saying there’s a day where I’m not?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Killian laughs before kissing Emma again. He can’t seem to stop that. “Well, while I’m having a good day for romantic declarations, why don’t we grab our marriage license, head down to the clerk’s office, and get married? Just you and me, Swan? It’ll be great. We can still have the big party with our family, you can still look gorgeous in that dress, but this would be – ”

“Just us,” Emma finishes for him. She pulls back and stares down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you serious? You want to get married today, twenty-nine? For real?”

“If you’d like. If not, we can wait. We have all of these other plans, and I don’t – ”

Emma smacks her lips against his and cups both of his cheeks. “Let’s get married today. Can you give me fifteen minutes to put some dry shampoo in my hair and change into clothes without stains?”

“What? You don’t want to get married looking like you do?”

Emma winks. “What can I say? I’m a woman of standards.”

Killian chuckles and moves away from Emma until she’s hopping down from the countertop and tugging her shirt down and her leggings up. Her cheeks are absolutely flushed, and she’s got the beginning of beard burn on her chin. “Oh, and twenty-nine?”

“Yeah?”

“I fully expect you to finish what you started here when we get back.”“I was planning on it.”

It takes more than fifteen minutes for them to leave the apartment. Emma decides to fix her hair and put on a little makeup while he takes a shower and trims his scruff, but a little under an hour later, their hands are intertwined as they ride down the elevator to the lobby so they can get a cab to the courthouse. He’d drive, but honestly, parking is awful, and his nerves might be a little too much for that right now.

He plays in front of thousands of people all the time, but he’s got nerves over marrying the woman he’s known he was going to marry since almost the beginning of their time together.

This is decidedly different than playing baseball.

This is not his job. This is his life, their life, and as beautiful as he’s sure Emma will look in her wedding dress that she and Elsa found, she looks just as beautiful now in a long pink floral dress. They’d both debated on jeans and a nice shirt, but then Emma had decided on this dress while he pulled on a pair of navy slacks and a white button-down. It’s as if they’re going on a date or having to dress up for work, but that’s not what it is.

Killian still can’t quite believe that they’re doing this on a random Wednesday when they had so many other plans.

Not that their lives have ever gone according to plan.

“What are we going to do about a witness?” Emma asks as her hand squeezes his over his thigh. “Should we call someone and see if they can show up? Oh shit. Are we telling our families we did this?”

“Do you want to tell our families we did this?”

Her leg starts bouncing. “Not really. I mean, I do, but I – ”

“Want to keep this just between us?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “I think so. David and Mary Margaret will probably be pissed if they ever found out.”

“Liam and Elsa too. Anna most of all. Oh, shit, Addy and Lucy really will be. We’ll definitely have to wait until after the wedding to tell them.”

“If we ever tell them.”

“Yeah,” Killian agrees, “if we ever tell them.  I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone at the courthouse to be our witness. I’m rather charming. I think I could convince someone.”

“Unless they’re a Red Sox fan.”

“We’re in New York.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”Killian squeezes her hand, both to reassure Emma but also himself. “It’ll all be okay. If we can’t find anyone, I’d be happy to marry you tomorrow.”

It’s not long before they’re walking down the hallway of the city clerk’s office and then standing in line with at least ten other couples. Some are in dresses and tuxes, surrounded with families and friends, and Killian checks with Emma one more time to make sure there’s no wariness on her face over them having none of their loved ones here. All he can see is a beaming smile.

“Hey,” someone starts, turning to Killian, “are you – ”

“Aye.”

“Holy shit. Your 2019 win was just…damn, man. That was awesome. What do you think your odds are this year? I know last year sucked, but I’ve got hope for this year.”

“I think we’ve got a chance, but the season just started, you know? Anything can happen.” Killian reaches his hand out and shakes the man’s hand. “Killian Jones. And you are?”

“Ben McKinley. This is my wife, Caroline. We’re here for my brother and his soon-to-be husband.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. Say, Ben, can you do us a favor and be a witness for us since your brother is in line behind us?”

His brows go to his hairline. “Are you two here to get married?”

“Aye, but I’m afraid we didn’t bring anyone with us. You’d be doing us a big favor.”

“We’d love to do that,” Caroline adds in. “And Ben and I promise to be discreet.”

“Well, if it does leak, we’ll know how to find you.” Emma slaps his shoulder until he turns around to look at her. “What?”

“Did you just threaten them?”

He winks. Absolutely not.

It takes thirty minutes before their names are called, and then, within a blink of an eye, the ceremony is being performed and he and Emma are saying “I do.”

He never thought two words would feel so damn good.

He also never thought he’d have to politely be asked to stop making out with his wife in a courthouse, but life is full of surprises.

His wife.

It was all worth it. Every second of it. Of today. Of the past two years.

Everything.

“Hey, Jones,” Emma giggles as they walk out of the clerk’s office, hand in hand just like they’ve been for the past hour. They have new rings on their fingers, and he can’t stop running his thumb over Emma’s wedding band. He’s going to hate when they have to take them off, but it’s all worth it. “You do realize we’re still out of milk, right?”

His chuckle starts in his stomach and works its way all over his body, warming him more than the sun does. “Is that really what you’re focused on right now? Your cereal.”

“Oh, no,” Emma laughs, turning on her heels and wrapping her arms around his neck, “I was thinking of you making me brownies like you promised. I was also thinking of how much I love you.”

His hands settle on her hips. “What was winning in your mind? Your love for me or the brownies?”

“I feel like the answer will disappoint you.”

“Never.” Killian dips his head down and slants his lips over Emma’s, breathing her in. “I love you, even if you love brownies more than you love me.”

“Never,” Emma promises. “I think we’re going to have to run out of milk more often if it leads to days like this.”“I think we’re also out of eggs.”“Huh. Wonder what kind of trouble we’ll get into tomorrow when we go out to get the eggs.”

“Darling, I need eggs to cook the brownies. All this time, and you still don’t know basic recipes.”

Her smile is still the most brilliant he’s ever seen, and the blue is back in those green eyes of hers. “That’s what I have you for.”“Ah, so that’s why you married me.”

“It’s one of the reasons.”“What are the others?” 

“Take me home, and you’ll find out.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

-/-

-/-

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[inkofamethyst]

January 26, 2021

This morning was so great omg.

So when I woke up, I found a lovely email in my inbox from the anth advisor where he had sent off everything that was needed for me to add an ~anthropology second degree~!!!  Then I decided that I wanted to go for a walk before class because it snowed last night and I wanted to test out the wool skirt + t-shirt + wool sweater + fleece-lined stockings + socks + gloves + scarf + coat combo in below freezing, drizzly weather.  Conclusion: My legs and torso and head felt great!  It’s so much fun swooshing around in skirts, and I certainly need to clone the gray one I bought from Poshmark because I adore it.  My fingers froze, however, after less than fifteen minutes outside.  I think I might look into woolen mittens, as mittens are apparently warmer than gloves.  Anyway, after I got back home I checked my email just before class and found out that I’d been selected to take part in the pilot STEM Alumni Mentoring Program for traditionally underrepresented students through my university’s career center!  I honestly was not thinking that I’d be selected, as I made it clear in my application that I was interested in Bioanthropology, not just biology, and I thought that my focus on the social science would exclude me from participation, but!  Such was not the case!  I was paired with a mentor, and I think I’ll probably send a quick “hello!” email tomorrow.

I also had classes today, and those were fine.  I lowkey feel like my Biology 3 class is busywork, but ah well.  I have nooooooo idea what I want to do for my humanities program keystone.  I wanted to create a collection of short stories, but it seems so... inconsequential? compared to what other people want to do: service projects, documentaries...  I just wanna be forced to do more writing practice (speaking of which I started an outline for an Among Us fanfiction mini-series and the idea is so bad that it might just be good) and I wanna learn how to make a podcast.

So last week JoAnn’s sent me an email talkin bout how they put McCall’s, Simplicity, and Butterick patterns on sale for $2 each (normal price for these is like,,,, $20 bro) and they hardly ever advertise this sale through emails, so I had to hit them up, right?  I walked out with ~6 patterns~, some of which I’d been looking for, and others were simple impulse-buys.  I spent, like, at least half an hour deciding which ones I wanted because I didn’t want to buy patterns just to be buying them.  And that’s honestly the main reason why I didn’t buy this circle skirt-lookin pattern.  Like, first off, I can probably make a circle skirt by myself.  And second off, I can probably figure out how to put a zipper into a seam with a pocket by fiddling around.  Hopefully that decision won’t come back to haunt me lol.

Anyway now I own a cape pattern, an actually decent-looking bodysuit pattern, a couple of pants patterns, some patterns for tops (I kinda wanna make my photo-friend a button up shirt, but, as I’ve learned from randomly making things for two other people, I need to practice making the thing for myself/for practice first before I offer to make something for someone else as a gift), and some other patterns.  My pattern collection is growing, for sure, and there are very few patterns I’m still hunting for, actually.

Anyway the only reason I was up early enough to get there before the crowd arrived to take advantage of the sale was because I had my orientation/advising/major change appointment for biology!!!  Y’all I am so happy that I’ve switched.  The woman I dealt with was so kind, and she was actually willing to carry even the briefest of conversations and she didn’t seem bored with the job like my previous advisors.  It’s like,,, I’ve realized why that felt so meaningful to me: It was like the first time I was actually affirmed that I belonged at the university with my scholarship.  Self-doubt trickles in related to that all the time, but she was so encouraging that I felt empowered enough to be able to go for what I wanted, you know?  That never not once happened while I was a biochem major.  And I know some people are trailblazers who can and will deal with adversity and unsupportive environments, but, like, biochem ain’t even what I want to do.  It’s not a dream of mine.  It was the most impressive-sounding major I could come up with so everyone would be impressed by my lofty goals that combined something I liked with something I wasn’t bad at.  But I think the cool thing about college is that a lot of the pretentious “Look at my super hard major” nonsense doesn’t really fly.  It gives you the space away from your parents that you need to breathe and figure out what you really want (what I wish I’d done was realize early-on that I could double-major in theatre and biology, but, alas, I can no longer entertain the idea and shall not dwell on it).  And sometimes what you want is to be in a supportive environment.  Well, I’ll see what my faculty advisor is like once they’re assigned to me.

I accidentally took a nap today (that’s what I get for staying up so late in a frenzied panic trying to figure out what a cover letter is), but hopefully it’ll be the fuel I need to, well, speed myself through writing my personal statements and other essay things for the internships I’m applying to this summer.  My panic at this moment is only mild as these are not due until tomorrow, so I’ve got another eighteen hours, at least, and Wednesdays are my lightest days for classes at the moment.

(side note: Wilbur is so outrageously handsome.  Like it’s not even funny how good looking he is.  He’s easily the most attractive member of the DSMP who shows their face.)

Speaking of looking good, I’ve dressed up yesterday and today!  It felt good :)

On a quick DreamSMP note, uhhhh no Techno should not break Dream out of prison (unless Dream calls in his favor, and even then, like,, the prison is max security and I’d be surprised if Dream managed to break out on his own without the help of one of the most stacked people on the server, so it’s not like Dream would be able to get revenge on Techno anyway).  The server is at peace (actually that’s not completely true bc of this egg cult thing) and Techno has almost nothing to gain by breaking Dream out (except, I suppose, calling it even between him and Dream (I still don’t know what Dream did for Techno in the first place), but I’d be careful bc Dream is a slippery fellow and could claim that he had the situation under control and that the breakout wasn’t actually doing him a favor and hence didn’t count).  I’m almost positive that it was exclusively the Dream apologists (weridos, the lot of them.  absolute wankers.) in Techno’s chat calling for Techno to break Dream out.  In my opinion (which nobody asked for), he shouldn’t unless asked, and even then he should consider not doing it.

Today I’m thankful that my skirt kept me warmmmm and that I’m gonna be a bio/anth doubleeeeeee and Imma get two degreeeesssssss eeeeeeeee!!

I seriously doubt that this whole semester is going to keep getting better and better like it has just these past few days, but I suppose it’s nice to have a great start!!