#this fic is ending up having long chapters too like i was not expecting ch2 to be as long as it’s shaping up to be. like it’s not THAT long

[spinifera]

why does my fic have only one published chapter how can it have more without me actually having to do anything. please.

[hodari-pavels-good-boy]

Espresso Chapter 4

Pity Party

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4

Pairing: Hodari Pavel x Reader Word Count: 3.5k Chapter: 4/? Rating: E

Tags: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, fluff, eventual smut

A/N: This is a multi chapter Hodari x y/n story! Gender is not specified so everyone can enjoy it (though I did originally start writing it with the intention of it being a male reader lol). Tags will be updated as the fic goes. Cross-posted Here on Ao3. Fic below the cut! Enjoy :)

Hodari POV

The sun is high overhead when he drops Najuma off at the tailor’s shop. Both Jel and Tish assured them they have snacks for lunch while they discuss.. whatever the three of them were planning. He ruffles his daughter’s hair before she darts into the shop. Shaking his head calling after her, "I'll be back to pick you up in an hour or so." But she was already gone, talking a mile a minute to Jel and not not paying him any mind. Tish laughs and wishes him a good lunch before joining the other two inside. Certain that Najuma isn’t about to come back out begging him to go home, he turns and heads towards the resounding laughter he can hear pouring out from the inn across the street. 

He enters the building and is met with the sight of warm mirth as everyone is gathered around the long table talking and laughing. It’s been a busy year, he thinks. Kids growing up, paths being chosen, prices raising, taxes steadily increased, endless deliveries, and humans returning. ‘No wonder everyone needs a break’. Sparing a quick look around the rest of the inn, he spots you at the bar talking easily to Reth. It feels like cold water has been poured down his spine causing him to stand up straight, the light mirth dissipating all too quickly. He hadn't actually expected to see you today and still wasn’t sure exactly what he should say. Should he even try to say anything right now? You look stressed as you talk with the cook, shoulders slumped forward while Reth leans over the counter nodding as he listens.  

"Hodari, my friend! You made it. We were getting worried you wouldn't actually come." Ashura calls out, snapping him from his thoughts as the sound of the inn invades his senses again.

“Told ya I’d be here. Don’t make a habit of goin’ back on m’word.” He grumbles half heartedly  as he turns his attention to the older man, greeting him as he sits down. 

It didn’t escape his notice how you seemed to stiffen and stop talking as soon as Ashura spoke to him and a flash of guilt runs through him. ‘I have to say something today’ he decides. He’ll keep an eye out for you and before either of you leaves he'll stop and talk to you. He can explain the situation and apologize for the misunderstanding. He can even make due on the promise to Najuma and invite you over for dinner. As a show of good faith. He can already feel the heat of embarrassment of the looming conversation crawling up the back of his neck. On second thought, maybe he should remove himself from that equation from the time being. What if you say no? He doesn’t want to ruin that for Najuma just because you may not want to, understandably, be around him right now. Worse yet, what if you don’t want to hear him out at all? 

Before he can spiral further, he's pulled into the conversation between Sifuu and Badruu, all thoughts of apologizing and fretting being pushed to the backburner as Sifuu asks how the mines are looking. 

Soon enough, new drinks have been poured and he finds himself laughing and talking, joining the conversation with everyone else. Listening as Delaila, face lightly flushed from the spirits, talks about her age old rivalry and the sting of her recent defeat, sharing an amused glance with Zeki as Chayne tries to placate her. It’s been too long since they’ve all had a moment to relax like this and as time becomes less of a priority while content in his friends’ presence, he doesn’t notice you slip out the back. 

In the midst of listening to Ashura talking about the fish he’d caught yesterday Reth walks over to where he’s sitting at the table, abruptly interrupting the easy flow and cutting his boss off.

"What did you do?"  He asks, voice measured and calm. It could be mistaken as curiosity, almost conversational even, if not for the words themselves and a fire simmering behind the cook’s eyes. The table goes silent.

“M’not sure what you’re talkin’ about.” He replies evenly. This definitely not  where he wants to have this conversation, much less with who. At this point everyone at the table is looking between them. This is extremely out of character for Reth and he’d almost be proud of the kid for taking a stance had it not been directed at him in particular. Publicly. 

“Reth, what-” Ashura starts but is immediately cut off by the cook. 

"Y/n. What happened?” He asks bluntly. “Because I was finally able to pry out of them and get them to tell me why they've been looking so unsettled this last week and do you know what they told me?” At Hodari’s silence, he continues. “They told me they felt like they overstated to themself their welcome in someone's life. That they grossly misread a situation and put everyone in an awkward situation and they’re embarrassed about it. Now what's interesting about that to me is I can't think of a single person in this village who would give them that impression. Can you?" Hodari looks down at the accusation.

Sifuu looks between the two before turning to Hodari. "Does this have anything to do with why Y/n told me it would be best for them to avoid the mines this morning when I asked about an extra delivery? I needed a rush order and didn't want to add onto your already busy workload for next week." 

He winces a bit at the new information. He opens his mouth to try and defend himself when a commotion outside the open inn door catches everyone’s attention. The sound of the tailor’s door slamming open and Jel’s distressed voice calling out "Najuma wait-" has him out of his seat in an instant, conversation immediately forgotten. 

Running out the door he spots Jel and Tish at the bottom of the steps in front of the tailor’s shop. 

"Where is she-" he starts to ask but Tish is already pointing down the road towards the streak of red booking it towards the edge of town and towards the human housing plots like a bat out of hell and he takes off after her.

"Y/N!" He hears her shout as she runs towards the human with their back to her and you turn around at her shout.

“What-” he hears you start to ask as she wraps her arms around your waist, almost knocking you over. He gets to both of you in time to steady the two of you before grabbing his daughter by her shoulders and spinning her around to face him.

“Najuma, what in the world are ya doin’?” 

“I’m askin’ y/n to dinner! Or, I was about to..” She sheepishly looks over her shoulder at the human behind her. “I saw them walking outside past Jel’s shop and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity!”

He sighs, releasing her shoulders and standing up straight as you look down at Najuma confused before looking back up at him.

“I'm not so sure dinner is a good idea right now, I've been pretty busy recently and-” You start to answer the girl between them, your eyes not leaving his.

“Please. Dad even said he’d cook for us this time, so you don’t have to worry about it!” She elbows him in the side and he hums in agreement, not sure what to say in this situation as his daughter steamrolls through it with her one track mind.

He watches as surprise crosses your features before it’s gone again, replaced with apprehension and he feels his stomach twist as the next words leave your mouth. “I’m sorry Mr. Pavel, I didn’t mean to put you in this position again. I promise I didn’t plan-” 

“Mr. Pavel?” Najuma cuts you off, looking between him and you before turning to face him, confusion written all over her face. “Dad, what's going on?” She asks, quickly picking up the tension between the two adults.

“Najuma, why don’t you head back to Tish and Jel. Y/n and I can talk dinner plans and get it all sorted and figure out a time that works around both our busy schedules.” She stares at him for a second before nodding and turning to the human next to her.

“But you will come to dinner won’t you?” She asks hopefully. 

Your eyes catch his and you hold his gaze as he nods, silently urging you to agree. You let out a sigh. “Yeah of course ‘Juma. I’ll be there, just let me talk with your dad to work out a day.”

Najuma wraps you in a tight hug before you even finished your sentence. “Thank you! I missed you and I have so many ideas I've been wanting to show you!”

He watches the exchange between the two of you from the sidelines, taking a step back so Najuma could say her goodbyes to you without him looming over her shoulder. The two of you interact so seamlessly and he’s kicking himself for not paying more attention. Najuma’s hands are waving around as she talks a mile a minute with a small smile on her face as you listen with rapt attention, nodding along to whatever it is she's telling you. The sight makes his chest warm but he wonders how many of these moments he’s been present for but missed. How many times he’s been on the outskirts of the moment. Najuma’s words at the breakfast table come back to the forefront of his mind, ‘I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, Dad. You’re always so busy you don’t notice a lot of things even when they’re happening right in front of you’. He’s gotta do something about that. 

When he notices the small conversation starting to wind down he walks back over. Najuma gives you one last hug before heading back to the tailor’s. “See you soon!” She calls out with a wave and you wave back to her, a small smile gracing your lips as well. It lights up your face and he can’t help but think it belongs there permanently, catching him off guard. 

When Najuma is out of earshot he turns to you. You open your mouth but he holds a hand out to stop you. “Now hold on a sec, I got somethin’ to say and then you can say your piece.” Your mouth shuts with an audible click and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “First things first, I owe you an apology, a real one.” You open your mouth to respond and he shakes his head putting a stop to it. “I ain’t finished.” He waits until your mouth has closed before starting over.  

“I owe you an apology because I said some hurtful things that I realized aren’t quite true and in doing so I’ve hurt not just you but ‘Juma too. Neither of you deserved that and I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized just how close the two of you were and how much Najuma cares for you” He looks down, kicking a loose pebble with his shoe. “I was just tryin’ to keep my little girl safe.” He looks back up to find your face has softened as he’s been talking and he takes a breath before continuing. “It’s also been brought to my attention just how much you’ve done for me and my little family and I didn’t repay that in kind. I could make excuses ‘til i’m blue in the face about how I wasn’t payin’ attention but at the end of the day I was just a fool. I’m sorry for treatin’ you like a danger while you’ve been hard at work keepin’ my girl safe while I was too busy havin’ my head up my-. Well, thank you. I’d be grateful if you would be willin’ to join Najuma and I for dinner so I can start makin’ it up to you and repaying you for all the kindness you’ve shown us over these last few months. It’s the least I can do.” 

There’s a beat of silence before you speak up. “Mr. Pavel it’s-”

“Hodari. Please. Call me Hodari. If you’re still comfortable that is.” 

“Hodari. It’s okay. It sounds like we both misread this situation.” You smile at him and damn if it ain’t a beautiful smile, his heart rate picking up at the sight. “How about we start over? It’s kinda like the whole reason us humans are back anyways. A second chance. There's no rules against a do-over right?” You ask him, still smiling at him with a bit of hope in your tone. 

“I s’pose not..”

“Okay then. Let’s start over.” You hold your hand out to him. “My name’s y/n. I just moved into town a few months ago. You could say I’m new to the area.” 

You look at him expectantly while he stares at your hand before reaching out and grasping it firmly in his and shaking it. “Hodari Pavel of Pavel mining.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hodari.” You say it so sincerely and he feels his chest tighten at the words. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” He gives your hand one last squeeze, noting how calloused they are after the months of hard work before letting go, his hand dropping back to his side. 

“See! That wasn’t so bad. Now, about that dinner. You don’t have to feel obligated to do that. Seriously. I know how busy you are and I don’t want to impose.” Busy. That’s all he seems to be these days and look where it got him.

“No, please. I want to. And Najuma would love to have you over again, she’s been missin’ you somethin’ fierce. I meant it when I said I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us. Najuma filled me in, you didn't have to do all of that-”

“I wanted to!” You interrupt him in a rush, like you hadn’t meant to actually to speak the words into existence. He starts a bit at the disruption as your cheeks start to color. A bit quieter this time, looking away from him you confess. “I wanted to. Look, when I first got here I was so lost. Literally and metaphorically. I was spending days searching for a reason to be doing any of the things I was doing and just trying to pass time. Every day was bleeding into the next and I didn’t see a way out. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was so nice and helpful but I felt so misplaced and confused. Those first few weeks were rough, I won't lie to you. I was debating leaving and heading for the capital like all the rest of the humans. Try and find some answers or a meaning, I don’t know.” You stop and look back up directly in his eyes. A new intensity behind them freezing him in place. “But then I accidentally stumbled across that firecracker you call a daughter and suddenly I had a reason to be doing things here. I had a reason to get up and actually go mining or hunting or do anything really. Because somewhere out in the bay, some kid was depending on me for a few bits of ore for some crazy invention that I sure as hell didn’t understand. And with that kid was a man working himself to the bone, looking just as lost as I felt. It made me feel a little less alone I guess. So yeah, I started helping out where I could. I really didn't need the extra ore. What was I gonna do with it? It felt more fitting to give it where it would be used. Najuma makes such cool things and if I left a little extra for you, so what? You’d get more use of it then I would. And I’m just one person, I wasn’t going to eat all that meat and food. I didn’t mind sharing.” You pause for a moment taking a breath. “Mr. Pa- Hodari, I didn’t do it to get something back out of it. In fact just letting me help was giving me something. It helped me familiarize myself with the area and my tools and in turn get to know more of the people here and help them out as well. You don’t owe me anything. This is not a debt to be paid off or returned. Kindness doesn’t work like that…”

You trail off at the end looking embarrassed while he stands there in shocked silence. Finally he breaks the growing quiet. “Okay then.” A beat. “How about this, thank you for all the nice things you’ve done for my daughter and I. How would you feel about joining us for dinner tomorrow? Not as a thank you, but instead a chance to test this ‘do-over’ and get to know each other a bit better. I can cook dinner and you can bring dessert? Ashura has been talkin’ nonstop about your bakin’.”

A small smile grows across your face and he feels proud that he’s the one who put it there. “I’d really like that. Tomorrow?”

He nods his head. “8pm work?” 

“I’ll be there, be sure to let ‘Juma know.” You look over your shoulder to the plot path and the back to him. “I should actually be getting home and I’m sure you’re wanting to get back to the inn with everyone.”

He thinks of the interrogation that’s certainly still waiting for his return. “I was getting ready to head out soon anyways. Doubt anyone’s missin’ me too much right now.” He pauses for a second, and then without thinking, “How about I walk ya home? Give Najuma a bit more time to socialize.” ‘What are you doing?!’ his mind screams at him as you tilt your head in confusion at the request. He starts to back peddle. “I’m sorry that was-”

“I would really like that.” You interrupt him, color dusting your cheeks. “But are you sure? It’s a long walk from my house back to the bay.”

“I’m sure. Plenty of time to kill today.” He gestures to the path in front of them. “Lead the way.”

–-

Later that night as he’s lying in bed, he keeps thinking of the day’s events, turning them over and over in his mind. Unable to sleep as he keeps drifting back to one of things you said.

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

You had said it so confidently. Self assured. But the more he’s thought about it the less true he finds it. There are no do-overs here. You do something and you stick to it. You pick a path, a partner, a future and you stick to it. You put your all into it. But humans.. You… Your very existence challenges that. 

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

Appearing from extinction, an entire race of being whose entire status of being alive is a do-over. A second chance at mortality. Another roll of the proverbial dice to try again. A people who worship a god of starting over and over and over. No shame. No harm in trying. No fear of starting again.

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

He thinks of your smile and laugh. How you talked with Najuma. How your kindness felt like it was burning him from the inside out. How you accepted his apology and spoke of your gratitude to them. 

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

The walk to your house. How you filled the silence and he couldn't concentrate on a word of it because all he could think about was how he had never noticed how nice you looked. How you gesture with your hands when you talk. How your eyes seem to burn with passion. How he wants to stoke that fire.

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

He thinks of collecting Najuma from Jel’s and telling her you would be coming over tomorrow. How her face split into a smile so wide he’s sure he hasn’t seen it like that in years. Imagining the two of you sitting at the dinner table, eating the food he’s cooked, and enjoying the domestic moment.

‘No rules against a do-over right?’

No rules against a do-over.. Right? Fuck.

[Dividers by the-aesthetic-shop]

[kmomof4]

A Mistress to No One  A Birthday Fic for hollyethecurious

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOLLYE!!!!

Today is the birthday of the other of my besties, @hollyethecurious​!!! Benedict is her favorite of the Bridgerton siblings, so to celebrate the day of her birth, I decided to write her a CS fic inspired by his story. I so hope you have a fabulous day and that you enjoy this fic, babe! It’s certainly been a long time coming! Love you to the moon and back again!!!!

All the love and thanks to @jrob64​ and @zaharadessert​ for their betaing expertise, and all the brainstorming sessions they had to endure when I got stuck. Which was a lot... Also boatloads of internet hugs to @motherkatereloyshipper​ for her manips I used in the artwork. Thank you all so much, ladies!!!

The fic is not completely written yet, and it currently stands at a Prologue, Pt. 1 which includes Chs 1-3, and Pt. 2 which includes Chs. 4-8. I’m expecting there to be one or two more chapters, for a total of nine or ten chapters plus the prologue. I’ll be posting this one a little differently. Ch.1 will be posting this Wednesday, Jan. 25, with ch2 posting next Sunday, Jan. 29. From there, chs will be posting weekly.

I so hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones. 

Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process.

Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds?

Rating: M (smut)

Words: Almost 1900

Tags: Birthday Fic, Inspired by Benedict’s Story in Bridgerton, Smut

On ao3

New tag list! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@jrob64​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @xarandomdreamx​ @undercaffinatednightmare​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @superchocovian​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @tiganasummertree​ @anmylica​ @cosette141​ @motherkatereloyshipper​ @zaharadessert​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @jennjenn615​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @kymbersmith-90​ @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @wistfulcynic​ @mie779​ @snowbellewells​ @lfh1226-linda​ @aprilqueen84​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @pirateherokillian​ @elfiola​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @poptart-cat-78​ @myfearless-love​ @goforlaunchcee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @gingerpolyglot​ @gingerchangeling​ @djlbg​ @cocohook38​ @cs-rylie​ @thisonesatellite​ @donteattheappleshook​ @deckerstarblanche​ @veryverynotgoodwrites​

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Emma Swan was a bastard.

And what was worse, everyone knew she was a bastard, not just Emma herself. Fortunately, everyone at Spencer Hall loved Emma and had since she was a little girl when she arrived on the doorstep one dark and stormy November midnight.

George Spencer, the Earl of Glowerhaven, was in residence and had briefly scanned the correspondence stuffed into the pocket of the too large coat Emma wore. After tossing it in the fireplace, he stood and watched the fire lick at the edges of the missive, then turned to the housekeeper and ordered a room made up for the child near the nursery of the country estate. There she had remained ever since.

She’d been introduced to the staff of Spencer Hall the next day as the Earl’s ward, the orphaned daughter of an old friend. Nevermind that the resemblance she bore to the Earl’s sister and deceased mother was too great to be ignored. But ignored it was, as none of the staff of Spencer Hall wanted to risk their livelihoods by speaking of it.

Emma didn’t remember much of her life before coming to live at Spencer Hall, but she did remember the woman who carried her to the front door of the manor telling her that she was going to live with her father now. The look on the Earl’s face when his eyes met hers told her the truth. A truth that, at the age of five, she was too young to really understand, but had been made clear to her as the years rolled on. He called her Emma, she called him ‘My Lord’, and she only saw him a few times a year when he returned home from London. He asked about her lessons once she was old enough for school and she did her best to make him proud of her. The arrangement pleased everyone.

Until the Earl decided to marry.

Emma was pleased with the news, because along with it came the revelation that the Earl planned to spend more time at Spencer Hall now that he was a family man. Besides that, the new Countess had two daughters, very nearly the same age as Emma herself. She couldn’t help but hope that with him spending more time at Spencer Hall with his new wife and daughters, he’d treat her more like a daughter and they could truly be a family.

The day finally came when the Earl would arrive home with his new wife, and Emma was beside herself. She stood on the other side of the foyer from where all the servants were lined up to meet the new mistress of the house, rather at a loss of what to do with herself.

If she were truly a ward of the Earl, she’d be near the front of the line awaiting to be introduced to the new Countess. As it was, however, the Earl didn’t even notice she was there until she cleared her throat a second time, a little more loudly than the first, after everyone else had been introduced.

“Emma,” the Earl said, surprise lacing his tone. “I didn’t see you there.”

Emma smiled widely and curtsied, thrilled that he wasn’t purposely ignoring her.

“And who is this?” a sickly sweet voice asked. The Earl turned to his new wife and Emma caught her breath. She was beautiful. Chestnut hair with highlights of red framed a narrow face. Dark brown eyes took Emma in from head to toe before narrowing as the Earl introduced her.

“This is my ward, Miss Emma Swan,” he said. The new Countess’ eyes narrowed even more as she speared Emma with a perceptive, assessing look.

“I see,” she said. She took the hands of the two girls on either side of her, and turned back to the Earl. “I’d like to go upstairs now, please. I assume you have rooms ready for Zelena and Regina?”

“Of course, my dear,” the Earl assured her. “Near the nursery, right next to Emma.”

The new Countess sniffed with disdain, as she again looked at Emma. Not wanting to meet that penetrating gaze, Emma looked at the two girls on either side of the new Countess. One was taller than the other, she must be the older one, Emma thought, and was very thin like the Countess. Her hair was a wild mass of red curls that reminded Emma of the setting sun. The girl took her cue from her mother and looked down the bridge of her narrow nose at Emma without saying a word. The other girl wasn’t as thin as the first, and had dark brown, almost black, straight hair, coming down below her shoulders. Her dark eyes held indecision as she looked first at her mother and then back at Emma. Emma offered her a tentative smile, but the girl only looked down at her feet, not meeting Emma’s eyes.

The new Countess swept away up the stairs of the manor, taking her daughters and the Earl with her. Emma did her best to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

~*~*~

The next morning, Emma had been at her lessons for an hour when the new Countess and her daughters entered the nursery. The governess, Johanna, jumped quickly to her feet and curtsied.

The new Countess sniffed with disdain when she spotted Emma, then took in the governess. Emma didn’t smile at the daughters this time. It seemed like it wasn’t a good time to repeat the previous day's gesture.

“Johanna?”

“Yes, My Lady,” she replied, curtsying again and not looking the imperious woman in the face.

“I understand from the Earl that you are to teach my daughters.”

“I will do my best, My Lady.”

“This is Zelena,” she said, motioning the red head forward. “She is twelve.” She then motioned to her other daughter who hadn’t raised her eyes from the floor. “And this is Regina. She is ten.”

“Emma is also ten,” Johanna volunteered. The new Countess seemed put out to be reminded of Emma’s presence and huffed indignantly.

“I’d like you to show my daughters around the house and gardens,” she said.

“Of course. Emma, put down your slate and…”

“Just my daughters,” the Countess interrupted. Johanna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, but she snapped it shut just as quickly.

“Yes, My Lady,” she murmured.

As soon as the door shut behind Johanna and the girls, the Countess turned to Emma, pure hatred blazing in her eyes.

“I know who you are,” she hissed.

“M-my Lady?”

“You’re his bastard and don’t you deny it.”

Emma didn’t say a word. Of course, she knew it was true, but it was the first time anyone had spoken of it to her face. The Countess grabbed her by the chin and turned her face this way and that. Emma struggled to hold in the whimpers caused by the pain of the woman’s fingernails digging into her face.

“Now you listen to me,” the Countess growled. “You might live here at Spencer Hall and you might take lessons with my daughters, but you are nothing but a bastard and that is all you will ever be. Don’t you ever think that you belong to this family. You are not to speak to my daughters except during lessons. They are the daughters of this house, and they shouldn’t have to be burdened with the likes of you.” The sneer on her face and contempt in her voice was enough to bring tears to Emma’s eyes. “You are not ever to speak to me and you will endeavor to never be in my presence. My husband feels some misguided duty to you, but you are an insult to me and to my daughters. To have you in my house, fed and clothed as if you were one of us.” She looked down her nose at Emma, the venom in her gaze turning Emma’s blood to ice. “Do you have any questions?”

Emma wasn’t fool enough to believe the question was sincere, so she silently shook her head.

“Good.” The Countess spun away from her, her skirts flaring, and walked out the door.

~*~*~

It wasn’t long before Emma became even more aware of her precarious position in the Earl’s household. The servants knew everything and the gossip eventually reached Emma’s ears.

The Countess’ name was Cora and she had demanded the very day she’d arrived at Spencer Hall that Emma be removed. The Earl had refused. He informed his new bride that she didn’t have to love Emma, or even like her for that matter, but that he had an obligation to her that he’d met for the last five years and he wasn’t going to stop now.

Zelena followed her mother’s example to the letter in her dealings with Emma, but Regina had a kind heart that wouldn’t allow her to participate in the level of torture and cruelty that Zelena seemed to relish subjecting Emma to. And while Regina didn’t speak up or stop Zelena in her mistreatment of Emma, when the younger girls were unsupervised, Regina was surprisingly kind to her.

“Your parents not being married isn’t your fault,” she said with a shrug. “And I see no reason to treat you so badly.” Unfortunately, Regina’s fear of her sister and mother kept those sentiments and any actions that might confirm them solely between the two of them.

Life continued in this way for the next five years, when one afternoon during tea, the Earl clutched at his chest and fell over, dead before he hit the ground.

No one was more surprised than Cora, who’d been trying since their wedding night to conceive the all-important heir.

“I might be with child,” she all but screeched at the solicitor. “You can’t give the title to some distant cousin when I might be with child!”

And so the reading of the Earl’s will was delayed until they could be quite certain whether the Countess was with child or not.

A month on, it was verified she was not, to the Countess’ enraged dismay.

When the will was finally read, Cora had been forced to sit next to the new Earl, a rather dissolute young man who was drunk more often than not. The will itself was fairly straight forward. The Earl had established funds for Zelena, Regina, and even Emma, ensuring they all had respectable dowries.

Then the solicitor came to Cora’s name.

To my wife, Cora Spencer, Countess of Spencer Hall, I leave a yearly income of two-thousand pounds…

“That’s all?” Cora cried indignantly.

... unless she agrees to house and care for my ward, Miss Emma Swan, until she reaches the age of twenty, in which case, her yearly income shall be trebled to six-thousand pounds.

“I don’t want her,” the Countess bit out.

“You don’t have to take her,” the solicitor reminded her.

“And live on two-thousand pounds a year? Are you mad?” The solicitor, who lived on much less than two thousand pounds a year, remained silent and tried not to roll his eyes.

“What is your decision?” he asked.

Cora stood with as much dignity as she could muster. “Fine, I’ll take her,” she replied, teeth clenched in anger.

“Shall I find the girl and tell her?”

“I’ll tell her myself.”

But when Cora spoke with Emma, she left out some important details…

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Happy birthday, Hollye! Part 1: Ch. 1 will post Wednesday!

[newty]

dion fic ch2 meta and edit process!

this chapter kicked my butt! i did not expect it to get so long but overall i like the places i went to a lot. overall i think that in a perfect world, there's a lot i would have extended and lingered on more, but the work it would take + the return it would give wouldn't be that different. i wanted to move on rather than beat over the same themes in the name of a smoothly completed scene. i think this choice is evident in the way each scene ends a bit abruptly.

this was the hardest chapter to keep my limited 3rd person pov active tho omg. terence and kihel had so many thoughts that i had to hold onto for later while dion made everything about himself. this chapter was full of demands on terence, but it also will be the end of dion's passivity after he realized that he was party to his own 'uselessness.'

i like that i was able to keep dion's relationship with kihel a little fraught, too. i didnt want them to be immediately buddy-buddy in some kind of Destined Together vein, so it was important for me to keep giving them misunderstandings and things that isolated them from each other.

their conversation while gathering yarrow is also a mess i enjoy. kihel doesn't have the ability to express herself as succinctly as dion does, so it becomes extremely one-sided, awkward, and confusing with too many emotions that don't get properly tied up. walking away and not addressing that (beyond some lousy attempts) was important to me. they're all in an extremely uncomfortable situation and nothing will relieve that but time (and more earnest but lousy attempts).

i think that the aether floods disappeared within a few weeks or less of the game's end. people still avoid those areas from superstition, which freed up moore for some bearer irony. at first i wanted to fill the town with branded while the chapel operated like a sanctuary for those in worse health, but then i narrowed the whole operation to the chapel and ahmed. the dragon was also irony re: doing its job rly bady and being a confused angry disabled weapon that terence has to smack down with

speaking of terence. hes exhausted. i wanted to give the dragon fight some Real Repercussions but after dion went thru his whole church monologue i was like. yeah no i dont need to add another thing to the pot rn. i also wanted him comparatively healthy to dion and his rock skin.

anyway. worming in part of the eucharistic prayer/roman canon into dions orgasm was probably top tier blasphemy im ngl. that sex scene was an absolute MESS of half-conversations and lifelong guilt. at some point i sat there like. if these bitches dont stop being sad abt the One good thing ive allowed them, im gonna have to find Another way to get them to be shitty dads and leave a re-traumatized girl home alone so they can try again.

have i mentioned lately that i love writing idiot men that find increasingly convoluted ways to validate their increasingly selfish decisions. bc. theyre back.

regardless, the bit of prayer after my shameless lifting of ascension lyrics is from an intersession to st george. shout-out to the prof dragon killer himself but hes got good violent prayers. i also made a really accidental shout-out to ffx tidus/yuna kiss and had to stare at a wall for 15 minutes until i decided i was NOT going to rewrite it into smth else. i just like the ocean and wanted to incorporate part of its danger into snapping dion out of his emotional suicide plan. and terence's tattoo is ffiii bahamut by amano.

next chapter is The Family Problems I Ignored And Compartmentalized For 30+ Years Are Coming Back To Bite Me In The Ass Now That I've Started My Own Fantasy Family. and TERENCE POV, FINALLY

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

an angel on my shoulder and the devil in my heart (yandere!hawks x reader) ch2

Summary: Your first day at Hawks’s agency arrives and it’s nothing like you expected.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, mentions of ns///fw, more warnings to be added

Note: thank you all so much for the support on the first chapter! i’m really glad you’ve all enjoyed this story so far, because it’s really fun for me to write! i’ll be updating again soon <3 hope you enjoy this one as well

P.S. For future reference, all chapters and post relating to this fic will be tagged with ASDH for easy finding

Find Chapter 1 here!

Find Chapter 3 Here!

The first thing you notice is how insanely tall Hawks' agency is. It must be at least 50 stories, you think, as you stroll up to the door. A tower this tall is fit for such an ambitious bird- it’s his own personal Tower of Babel.

The handle of the big, glass door is cold against your palm as you pull it open, giving way to the main hall of the building. It's... quiet. At least, a lot quieter than you had expected; it's not packed to the brim with heroes and office workers, hustling to get their tasks done for the day. Instead, there's a single woman behind a counter, typing away. The clicks of the keyboard echo off of the towering white walls around you, and you step quietly towards her, hoping your shoes wouldn't sound too loud against the marble floors. It feels as if you make one wrong move, those huge walls will come crashing down around you, burying you in a pile of pristine, spotless white debris.

The woman glances up from her computer as you approach, staring you down over the top of her glasses.

"Hi, I'm (L/N) (Y/N); I'm here for-" she interrupts before you can finish, pointing past you to a glass elevator.

"65th floor," she says. You nod, turning away from her, but she speaks up again. "And for future reference," she grimaces, "show up early next time. You'll be three minutes late by the time you get up." Rude, you think, but give her another nod.

"Uh, thanks, I guess." You reply awkwardly and take your leave towards the elevator.

Hawks eyes his watch impatiently as he waits, the minutes ticking by towards the time you were supposed to arrive. For someone seemingly concerned with their image, you were cutting it pretty close to your deadline.

He sighs, brushing a hand through his hair as he props himself up on his desk.

He can feel his heart racing in his chest, his fingers picking nervously at the side of the desk- ah, he finally realizes- he's nervous. When was the last time someone had made his chest flutter like this? Barely a conversation with you and he's already falling hard. Although, the nights he's spent watching you have certainly helped foster his infatuation .

He hadn't meant to make a habit out of it, honestly. A quick search in the hero database gave him your address, so by the time you were home from the sports festival, he was perched on the side of the apartment building next to yours, peering into what he believed to be your bedroom. Three floors up, right side of the building, he remembers, of course- he's been there every night for the past week.

He just wanted a quick peek, that's all- a glance at you outside of your hero persona to make sure he was making the right decision, but watching you was too addicting to quit.

From what he could see from his little perch, your bedroom is pretty plain. Cream colored walls plastered with posters for movies and bands he doesn't recognize, little knick-knacks sitting on your desk, and in the farthest corner, a peek of a stuffed rabbit on your bed. He can't help but picture you in bed, arms wrapped around your fuzzy friend. Adorable.

Really, it was innocent- no harm no foul; except for the fact that he didn't leave after you came home, and didn't close his eyes as you undressed.

Hawks shakes his head, patting his cheeks as he tries to pull himself out of the memory of your body in the yellow glow of your lights, arms stretching as you pull your shirt- no, he can't think about this right now; you'll be in his office any minute, and he doesn't want to get too excited and scare you off now, does he?

The elevator lets out a little ding as you reach your floor, the doors sliding open into a large room. Most of the walls are glass, you notice first, large panes reaching up towards a dome ceiling, showing nothing but the sky above you. It's stunning, more so than anything you've ever seen before, but you can hardly ignore the centerpiece of this room: Hawks. He's sat on a desk towards the back of the room, feet dangling and red wings spread wide, a grin on his face as he watches you try not to gawk. His arms stretch behind him as he pushes himself off and strolls towards you, white teeth practically glistening.

"Four minutes late," he clicks his tongue, letting out a tsk, "I expected more from my future sidekick." You know he's joking, but something in the way he looks at you makes you feel a bit of an obligation to apologize. Another part of you wants to rub it in his secretary’s face that she was wrong.

"We're jumping the gun a bit there, aren't we?" You say instead. You try to match his playful tone, but your nerves make your throat dry and you swear you hear a crack when you speak. If Hawks notices, he doesn't mention it. He waves his hand dismissively and gestures you towards the overstuffed chair in front of his desk.

"I just have high hopes for you," he winks, "sit down, please; if I'm being honest, you look a bit like a deer in the headlights." You sit stiffly in the chair. How exactly does he want you to respond to that?

"Well, I have to admit- I am a little nervous." You chuckle awkwardly. He takes his place on top of his desk once more, his looming presence not doing much to comfort you.

"Don't be," he dismisses the thought and reaches behind him, taking a little black box in his hands, "here's a little 'welcome to the agency' present from me; I'm sure you'll do great here, kid." Your eyes grow wide at the sight of it; when was the last time someone gave you a gift? You can hardly remember. Your excitement takes over any rational thinking that would tell you not to accept the gift,- you don't need it, after all- and you swiftly pull the lid off. Inside lays a necklace. A shimmering gold chain leads downwards towards a slim and simple gold circle. In awe, you stare quietly at the gift.

"Like a halo," Hawks chimes in after more than a few seconds of silence, "to go with your hero name. I know it's a bit cheesy," A grin spreads across your face.

"Good thing I'm not lactose intolerant," you chuckle at your own joke, but the realization sets in and you freeze. You just said that to the fucking number three hero. Your first day here and you’ve already horribly embarrassed yourself.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. I-I'll be more professional from now on-" you ramble a bit, cheeks flushed red. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you tell yourself, regretting ever opening your mouth. You hear Hawks laugh, and god, he's laughing at you.

"(Y/N), calm down," he draws out your first name, a lazy smile on his face as he stares at your flushed cheeks, "it was cute. No need to apologize." Well, if your face wasn't red before, it certainly is now. Hawks just called you cute, you think. Really, that should've been a red flag, but you're caught up in the experience and you mechanically let out a thank you.

God, you're adorable, Hawks reminds himself as he watches you fidget in your seat. Your face is completely red at this point- only a bit of teasing and you're already a mess; would you flush like that if he put his hands on you? And exactly how far does that blush go down? He wants to bend you over his desk, has been thinking about it since the moment you stepped out of the elevator, but no- restraint is key for now. He'll make you want him just as much as he wants you, just you wait; you'll be begging him to fuck you by the end of the week. 

"Can I put it on you?" He asks innocently, like it isn't just a ploy to touch you. You hesitate, thinking of refusing, saying you can get it yourself, thank you, but Hawks tilts his head and all your resolve melts away- he's just trying to be nice. So you nod in agreement and he eagerly hops off the desk, taking his position behind you. The metal of the jewelry is cold against your skin as Hawks moves your hair to the side, and you suppress a shiver that you swear is from the cold.

The clip of the necklace clicks into place, but Hawks' hand lingers, shifting downwards.

"What are you-" you begin to ask, but you're stopped by a gentle tug at one of your feathers.

"Do your wings not retract?" He asks, genuinely curious. His hand glides across the sensitive expanse of your wing as you speak.

"Not like yours do, but they tuck in pretty tight." He hums in appreciation.

"How do you get your clothes on?" A bit of a weird question, you think, but nothing you haven't heard before.

"My wings are surprisingly flexible; they can fit through pretty much anything the size of the radius bone." He hums again.

"Can you stand up? I'd just like to get a better look at them," he says, "as long as that's okay with you."

"Of course!" You reply immediately and stand up, letting him lead you to a more spacious area. He threads his fingers into the feathers, spreading your wings out like he's appraising them. His fingers card through your secondary feathers; you wonder for a moment if he knows how pleasant his touch in your wings is, if his own feel the same when someone touches them, but with the way he's prodding at you, you figure he doesn't. 

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" He whispers behind you. You swallow thickly around a newfound lump in your throat and hope you can hold back a whine as you respond.

"Not at all." You hear him sigh happily, continuing his ministrations.

"They're really soft; you must take good care of them."

"I preen them every night," you respond proudly. Your wings are your staple as a hero; without them, your Angel persona crumbles, so of course you're going to take care of them. Hawks' hot breath tickles your neck as he laughs.

"What a good bird, preening yourself," he jokes, "you can just say groom, you know." Your face is back to red as quick as it left, and you mutter out a little sorry. 

"Stop apologizing,” he whines, tugging at one of your feathers like he’s annoyed, “you're bumming me out," you pause, wondering if you should apologize again, but think better of it.

"Y'know,” he continues without any response from you, “it really pissed me off when that guy at the festival grabbed you like that.”

"I was hoping you had missed my epic defeat," you can hardly call that one a joke, but you let out a dry laugh.

"You deserved to win that one; it was a cheap shot," he runs his finger along the edge of your wing, his face a bit closer to your neck now, "I'm just glad he didn't mess up such a pretty thing," it's a ghost of a whisper against your ear, and you wonder for a moment if he's really talking about your wings.

His fingers are wrapped in your feathers one moment and gone the next as he steps behind you, clapping his hands together casually, like nothing had just happened.

"Well, I suggest we stop wasting time and jump right into training. What'd'ya say?" You turn to face him, a tint of red still on your cheeks and you nod, electing to forget the uncomfortably intimate moment you just shared with your mentor.

"Yeah," you breathe, preparing yourself for the rest of what you’re assuming will be a long day, “let’s do it.”

Hi! If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH3 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

CH1

CH2

!!TW!! mentions of abuse, trauma, blood

Above are the links to the first two chapters, but for those that just want to get to it, I will briefly summarize. The main character here(who I choose to keep very nondescript so anyone can enjoy this, that may change as things get more physical between them and our hero. I will continue using they/them pronouns for this, but I have lady parts and will probably end up using those words.) is a villain that has just stolen information, fought Aizawa and made an escape to a roof where they fought with a member of their crew and Maybe(?) probably killed them.

Thank you for reading! 

Enjoy! x

~

Sirens blare behind me as cops start to arrive at the scene. I pull the hood on my jacket up over my head and dip around the corner. I hadn’t tried to stick around long enough for them to show up, but left without a quick way off the roof after tossing that damn bat off the side, I had to take the stairs. It was a long way down, but the stairwell was entirely connected all the way to the ground floor, I would have been seriously pissed off if I had to find multiple sets of stairs. My face is mostly obscured by my hood, but I look down everytime a random citizen passes by. I can never be too careful about being seen. 

I reach into my pocket and feel for my marble, my anxiety is rising quickly as a group of four teen girls walks towards me on the sidewalk. I almost freak out when my pocket turns up empty, but then I remember that I threw it, that it’s the only reason I’m still walking free. This brings me slight peace before I hear giggling and sneer to myself. High schoolers. I look at their uniforms, even better, hero students. I pull the drawstrings on my hood and it scrunches around my face, hiding me further. Anonymity isn’t the only reason I prefer not to be seen, but it’s the most self preserving reason, the one that makes the most sense. The other is because I’m afraid. Afraid of what they could say, of what they could think. I’ve heard it all, but it never fails to sting a little when the unfiltered truth of others thoughts wash over me. 

Weirdo. What. A. Freak.

OMG what are they wearing?

Damn, why do I always have to walk on the outside? Don’t you all care at all if I get grabbed?

Please don’t rob us, please don’t rob us.

Look away. Just look away.

I pull the drawstrings tighter and walk slightly faster, trying to push their thoughts from my brain, but failing grandly as all I can focus on is how much I don’t fit in, how little the rest of the world cares for people that don’t fit in the cookie cutter mold of societal expectations. The girls are having a light hearted conversation amongst themselves as I pass by, a complete confliction to the sour, curdled thoughts that had just slipped out. My eyes are glued to my feet as I take one step after the other, my legs feel like lead as I fight the urge to scream at them and silence their brain functions. I’m so focused on getting myself away from those girls that I barely register the man walking in front of me, talking loudly on the phone. I thump into his back, my eyes still strained down at the tips of my boots. He looks down at me, surprised. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the shock as his words falter into the phone mic. 

Woah. All black, huh? 

Trying to avoid a conflict, I duck to the side and mutter a curt ‘sorry’ below my breath, already shuffling off. He reaches out to me though, reaching for my shoulder. “Hey, wait. Sorry to bump into y-” 

I jerk away without looking. “Don’t touch me… please.” I cough the pleasantry out, it’s hard to hold myself back when all I want to do is swear at him and rip his eyes from his skull, knowing full well this is only a minor inconvenience, not a stopping block for me. I slightly turn my head, looking up at him out of one eye, he looks down at me, stunned. 

Wait… Is this the one?

Who is this man? He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s got long blonde hair, pulled into a simple ponytail and a goatee that makes him look like he still thinks the year is 2008. My eyes fall back to my feet as I take quick paces away from him. I don’t know him, but it seems like he might know me, which is definitely a bad sign. My anxiety swells again as I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. This really can’t be good. I can still feel him watching me as I retreat, but his focus shifts back to his phone as someone yells on the other end of the receiver. “Yah, yah! I’m right around the corner. Get off my back, Shouta… I said I’m right around the corner! … No! I’m not in ‘uniform’, it’s my day off!” I let my anxiety roll off my shoulders as I get farther away from him and can no longer hear his shouting. I’m not sure why he threw me off so much, but I’m happy to be crossing the street and leaving his line of vision, turning an extra corner, just to be safe. I can’t afford anyone following me right now.

I’m still a bit rattled as I step down the stairs to the underground train tunnels. The tunnels are old, abandoned years ago after a train derailed and collapsed several tunnels. There were so many casualties, they shut down the entire train system after that, but by then technology had become so advanced compared to the subway that they didn’t even bother rebuilding. The city just closed off the tunnel entrances to the public. Citizens and tourists still come down to the platforms to take pictures and read plaques about the deceased. It’s ridiculous really. They didn’t know any of the people that died, had no connection to them, they would have no clue about the lives lost here if it hadn’t been all over the news. What the news wouldn’t tell the unsuspecting audience of sheep, is that it was actually a hero that crashed the train. The media told the world that a minor earthquake had derailed the train, which was only partially true. A minor earthquake had caused the crash, but a hero had caused the earthquake. A hero was the direct cause of so many shortened lives, innocent and corrupt alike, all dead within seconds. The media just swept that under the rug, not a single news coverage even mentioned his name as they described the tragedy. He continued his hero work as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t murdered the very people he vowed to protect, as if he wasn’t the sole reason those people died. My sister was among those lost. She wasn’t my only family, but the only one I liked, the only one that made life even bearable. A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away in frustration, no time for emotions. No time for tears. No time to let myself wallow, because I know once I start on that path, I’ll never stop. I’ll cry until I can’t breathe, until my eyes are swollen shut, until my lungs give out. So I cut myself short. No tears.

The platform is empty when I reach the tracks, the silence echoing. This is the only place I’m free of everyone else’s trilling thoughts buzzing in my brain, the thick concrete walls jamming their signal from getting to me. I release a long awaited sigh, the anxiety finally subsiding and leaving a slight hunger in my stomach. I had been so worked up I forgot to get food. I pull the hood off my head and hop down onto the tracks, walking them like a balance beam, a habit I picked up in my free time. At this point, I don't even put my hands out at my sides. I’ve done this so much, I’m sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I do close my eyes, basking in the complete silence that surrounds me. Silence that reminds me of the moments I was fighting Eraser Head, the moments where he took my quirk and my head was actually empty. Even now it’s not quite like that, there’s still a ringing in my ears and a hum in the back of my head like static over a radio channel. It’s never been completely quiet inside my head, it only ever fades to background noise, not like when I was with him, when he was staring at me so intensely. I know it’s because he couldn’t look away, because of his quirk, but part of it made me feel… wanted. No one has ever looked at me like that, with such incredible intensity in their eyes. I shake my head, feeling crazier than usual. There’s no way he could want me, no way that I’m not just pushing my own desires onto his actions, no way that I’m not just famished for someone to hold me in their arms like he had held me in his scarf. 

Now I know I’m acting foolish. His scarf? Really? He was attacking me, he was fighting me, he’s a hero goddammit. I should be hating him and working up ways to bring his demise, but instead I’m thinking about what it would be like to see him without his hostility, to watch his face as he slept, to see tears trail down his face, to see him begging on his knees. I want to see his vulnerability, surprisingly, without any intention of exploiting it. I just want to see him. I have to see him. I look down and realize I’m pacing. I shake myself again and head for a service tunnel that I’ve commandeered to become my little hideout. It’s really not much, but it’s all mine and 100% off the grid. Maintenance personnel don't even come down here. I’m completely alone and I love it. No prying eyes, no unwanted thoughts, just me and the cold concrete. It’s heavenly. 

I moved down here full time a few months after my sister died and it became clear that no one was fixing up the tunnels. My biological carrier, the woman I refuse to call my mother, had begun drinking immediately. Not that she was a stranger to alcohol before, but it had only gotten worse. Her drunk thoughts quickly became her sober thoughts and all of them had to do with me. Why my sister had died instead of me, why she was the one that had to be stuck with me, why she had to have been cursed with such a freakish child. One that cried all the time, one that split her head in two when they had a tantrum, one that couldn't even be put into daycare to protect the other children, one that put her husband in a vegetative state. I became nothing more than a burden to her, if there was any part of her that still loved me, loved me like a mother is supposed to, it was buried deeper in her mind than even I could find. 

The mental abuse wasn’t what broke me though, the neglect hadn’t done it either. It was the night she made me beg. She had drunk so much that I felt drunk, felt drunk off the vertigo thoughts she was pulsing out into the room. She stumbled into my room, slurring speech and telling me how ungrateful I was to have someone like her that would take such good care of me. I should have known better, should have been quiet like usual, but I scoffed at that. The wench barely even knew how to take care of herself, the notion honestly tickled me. That did her in. She lunged at me and threw me to the floor, smacking me in the face once on both cheeks. She rolled off of me and left the room as drunkenly as she had come in. I just layed there and cried, hoping she was done, but knowing she wasn’t. I heard the door creak and felt her grab me by the hair, shoving me into a dining chair. The confusion must have been evident on my face, because she hit me again and made quick work of tying me to the wooden chair. She left me there, tied up, for days. She made me beg for food. Beg for water. Beg to be cleaned after I had pissed myself. She made me apologize for everything I had ever done. She made me admit I was a monster, one that hurt people for fun, because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t control my quirk. I can see now how that narrative would be easier for her to stomach, having a person to blame instead of accepting the shitty facts of reality, but I was her child. I had been pure. She was supposed to love me, protect me.

I stop walking, letting my renewed hatred for that woman settle on my shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket. Resolve hardening my heart and warping the soft emotions I had just been there. I heave a sigh and reach into my jacket pocket again, feeling the flashdrive from before. This is what I need. File upon file of precious documents and information right here in the palm of my hand, information that now exists nowhere else. 

I start walking again, exhausted from today's events. There had been so many close calls. I’m still reeling from a couple of them, my head still not on fully straight. I make it to my little pad and flop down on the mattress I have tucked away in the corner. I unzip my boots and massage my feet a little, pulling them into my lap to sit lotus style. My laptop had been haphazardly tossed into my bed, so I reach over and plug it into the charging cable snaking from the wall, also pushing the little flashdrive into the side port and letting all the documents download. I curl into a ball on my mattress and flop to the side, I’m so tired and so hungry, I’m not sure what to do. I have no food here so I'm going to  have to go back up to the surface level, but it’s still too light out, I’ll wait until the sun has fully set then go stop by a street vendor. In the meantime however, I treat myself to a nap. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyes were until my head hit the soft material of my bed. 

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but I wake up to my computer beeping. The download is complete. I smile to myself and close the laptop, removing the flashdrive from the side, again not bothering to eject it. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my hands over my entire face and into my hair, fully waking myself up some more. I look down at myself, still in my full clothes and sigh, I guess I had been far more tired than I thought. My mind drifts to the dream I was having before my eyes had peeled back open. I only really dream when I sleep hard, which isn’t often since I’ve basically ruined my REM cycles. In my dream, I was with Eraser Head again, but this time we weren’t fighting, not really. He still had me caught in that damn capture weapon, but I was completely naked, my body exposed at all the right points for him to reach out and grab me, hit me, bite me. The memory of how his scarf felt against my skin heats up my face, my body clenching tightly. How does he still do this to me? He’s not even near me. 

I run a hand down my neck, trying to calm myself. I can’t get all riled up because of some hero. Can I? Another flash from my dream breaks through to the forefront of my mind. Eraser Head has me by the jaw, his mouth so close to mine I would be able to feel his breath on my lip if it had been real. That’s when he sensually licks my plush bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down softly, just enough to drive me crazy. Just enough for me to want more, to feel it in real life. I yell and pound my fist into the mattress. GET!! IT!! TOGETHER!! I launch myself onto my feet, tugging on my boots, determined to get his imagined ministrations out of my mind. I still need to eat anyway. The hunger tugging on my stomach and making it growl loudly, protesting the nap that had zapped away the rest of my evening. I look at my watch and groan, it's already past 9pm. 

I head back down the service tunnel that leads to my little crash pad, there’s a small, unpopular ramen stand I like to go to when it’s late. It's not the best bowl of ramen in the world, but it gets the job done and I’m not too picky when it comes to noodles in warm broth. The stand is right outside one of the stairwells into the underground platforms. The lights from the neon sign flicker dimly, it reads ‘OPEN to Business’. I slink down onto one of the stools and drop my money onto the counter, ordering a beef bowl. The man on the other side of the counter pours the broth and cuts vegetables before serving me the bowl with a small bow of his head. I return his formality before delving into the bowl. The soup smells better than usual, or maybe I’m just insanely hungry, either way the first bite leaves me melting into the bowl, hunched over, consuming the food at such a rate it would appear as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I hit the bottom of the white bowl in record time and slam down a few coins demanding more. The chef raises his eyebrow, but complies, almost over filling another bowl for me.

Hungry, ha? Good! Eat more!

I smile at him, actually warmed by his slight kindness, but it is soon forgotten as I begin slurping down noodles, beef, and cooked vegetables. I finish the second bowl almost as quickly as the first and slouch back, patting my very full belly. I was definitely hungrier than I realized. I sigh, content and sluggish as I slide off the side of the stool. I can’t help the light feeling in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets. The moon is high in the sky and the night air is cool on my cheeks, it’s almost serene. I decide to take a little stroll, there’s another entrance to the platform a few blocks down, connecting to the other side of the service tunnel. I start my walk with casual steps, I’m not in a rush and I just want to breathe in the fresh air a little bit longer. There’s an empty orange soda can on the ground and I kick it with the inside of my foot, sending it skittering forward a few paces, stopping in a perfect place for me to kick it again. I continue kicking the can along with me as I walk, until I kick it a little too hard and it goes tumbling down into a storm drain. I shrug and round a corner, the can just a distraction anyways, something to fiddle with. I reach into my pocket and forget again that my marble isn't there. A prickle of nerves climbs up my arm and to the back of my neck, making my hair follicles stand on end. 

Suddenly alert, I tense my shoulders and scan the area, looking above me as well this time, I won’t be taken out from the rooftops again, but still I see nothing. The air around me has shifted. It’s no longer peaceful and delicate, it’s eerie and cold, sending a shiver through me again, the anxiety making me even more jumpy as I hear little sounds around me. Nothing out of the ordinary, city sounds, but it all gets to me, sending my heart rate in an upward spike. I start to run, unsure of where to go. I can feel someone, but where? It’s driving me crazy. I know there’s someone. I know it, but the absolute lack of a presence is what’s really fucking me up. An ubiquitous white flash darts out at me from the dark. I dodge quickly, leaning back so far my head barely misses slamming into the concrete below me. There’s another flash and I throw my legs out from underneath me, catching myself in a near handstand before flinging myself backwards again, still unsure of where the flashes are coming from. 

Before I can land back on my feet, I see it, a dark figure blur by me from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what or who it is, but my first instinct is to whip around and try to use my quirk, still only barely sure of the figure’s location. When I spin around, I’m immediately bombarded by two sensations. First, is the clarity in my brain that only comes when Eraser Head is muting my quirk. The second, is the heat that grows in my stomach when I realize exactly who I’m up against. My chest flushes, and my thoughts flash back to my dream, the way he had halfway kissed me. That’s all the distraction he needs to scoop me up in his capture weapon and have me dangling upside down from the nearest street pole. 

Seeing him from this angle is different as the blood starts to rush to my head, making me feel dizzy. I thrash around a little, to no avail, before allowing myself to give up, feeling too sluggish from my meal anyways. Even if I manage to get out of this coil I could barely expect to actually get away. Eraser Head slowly saunters up to my upside down body, rocking from side to side, he looks menacing and my body clenches tight again. Gezzus fuck, this man is hot. “You wanted to see me again. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He pulls the goggles covering his eyes up unto his forehead and I can see his whole face. There’s a scar underneath his eye that I hadn’t seen before, it marks his skin beautifully and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like with the fresh wound, blood running down his face. I bet it was gorgeous. He’s a striking figure on his own, but covered in blood? I gulp heavily, the downward gravity making it hard. Eraser bends his knees, squatting down so we’re on an even eye level, his are still glowing red and I’m reeling from the proximity. He’s so close. He’s right there. I could reach out and grab him if my arms weren’t strung up to my sides. 

I can’t touch him, but he’s still close enough for me to throw my head back, letting the momentum force me back down to collide my skull with his. I hear a crunch and feel warm blood trickle up my face from my nose, it's in my mouth too. Eraser stumbles back, not prepared for a headbutt. It’s true what they say, no one wins in a headbutt, but it feels like a win as I see a small trail of blood coming from his forehead, it’s so much hotter that it’s my blood. He looks even better than I had imagined, of course he does. My skull is pulsing already and my quirk is returned to me as he tries to steady himself. He does, quicker than I had hoped. My head is still splitting and I don't have enough time to regain myself before he’s taking my quirk again. Damn, he’s good. I chuckle to myself, licking the blood from my lips. This is actually kind of fun. Eraser Head looks down at me again, gripping my hair tightly now to keep me from moving again. His eyes are wild, his jaw tight. It’s taking all of him not to beat the living shit out of me. I can tell. 

Then his expression changes and he looks mischievous, teasing even. The slight confusion I have is short lived before he yanks my head forward, my neck craned at an awkward angle to look directly up at him. “My turn.” He says, dropping my head so I’m swinging back and forth again, only able to see him every couple seconds. He takes a step back and I see him poise himself for a second, spinning into a roundhouse kick that connects with my temple and knocks me out cold.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

THINGS ARE DEF GONNA START HEATING UP FROM HERE!!!! stay tuned hehe XD

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Rose Puppetry Ch5: Caught in the Web of Mr. Spider

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world.  Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did.  Then she fell in love.  And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1.  Ch2.  Ch3.  Ch4.

Chapter Content Notes: graphic imagery of spiders, violence, character death, attempted murder, stabbing, references to actual character murder, mind control/possession, comas

I would like to take a moment and remind everyone that this fic is roughly inspired by the Mechanism’s album Once Upon A Time (In Space) and that that narrative’s climax is rather gruesome.  Additionally, this chapter especially was influenced by the Magnus Archives, which is a horror podcast.

Please take those facts into consideration prior to reading.

I would also like to remind you all that there is one more chapter after this one, and thus the fic does not conclude here.

“Ruby?”

Penny speaks her beloved’s name over and over again.  Her voice, a cracking repetition of a broken, almost hopeless recording caught on a looping tape.  The mechanical girl who had come and fought so hard can do nothing but stare.  She hopes the sight before her isn’t real, that she’s mistaken, that this isn’t how their story ends.

Some history books will say it is.  They will narrate the story of a miserable failure of a military project.  One who rebelled against her creators, her masters, and cost not only herself, but the one she loved her life.  These history books will be produced in the harsh, cold printing presses that remain loyal to the faltering Atlesian throne.  A desperate attempt to rewrite history in their favor, but not much more than that really.

Other books, ones with a bit more accuracy, will know better.  For even if there is a ‘happily ever after’ or a ‘the end’ to a story, there’s always a moment after that.  Something that happens next.  Right up until the final end of death comes for the characters.

And neither Penny nor Ruby are quite dead yet.

So it really would be a sad, sorry tale that reaches its conclusion here, wouldn’t it?

The rebels infiltrate the menacing fortress to save the innocent girl and are felled by her hand, now corrupted by the darkness that had ensnared her.  No hope of a happy tomorrow.  Simply a brutal, violent end and a laboratory awash in blood.

For that’s what happens when you wander into a spider’s web.  You tend to get caught by the spider.  And, you know, eaten.

The thing, the crucial detail, that must be taken into account about this tale, though.  The one thing those Atlesian history books will try to wipe away and conceal and keep the public from knowing.  The little detail that keeps this ending from being the true ending of the story.

It’s simply that Ruby Rose is not the spider.

Of course, she is something, and historians (and, after them, archivists) will have quite a wondrous time debating amongst themselves what exactly she is.  But, what she is not, is the spider.  The hungry arachnid who waits so long for its prey to come, who binds its meal tightly in silky thread for later consumption.

Some, and they will have fairly strong evidence for their cause, will argue Ruby was simply the first caught in the spider’s web.  Those ones have a valid, if not entirely understanding of the circumstances as a whole, point.

A spider’s web is a sticky, tricky thing.  When you’re all alone in it, you may see little hope of escape, of anything but the spider’s looming, menacing legs, its snapping jaws, or its eight dark, beady eyes.  But that’s only if and when the spider chooses to focus on you.  They are, after all, creatures that can be distracted.  Ones that can decide to eat something—someone—else.  So, maybe Ruby was the spider’s first chosen meal, but she was one left unfinished due to the arrival of an enticing, delectable follow up.

A spider’s web also happens to be a delicate thing and, if put under too much weight, may potentially collapse.

Let us now return to the scene and become observers, ceaseless watchers, to what happens when this particular web takes on quite a bit of weight.

Are you scared yet?  You’re probably wondering if you should be.  It’s natural, of course.  Debating whether or not you should trust the words you read.  Should you stop here?  What if it gets worse?  But, it’s pretty bad here.  Do you really want this ending to be the ending?

What happens when you don’t stop, though?  When you continue reading the words, bringing them into the reality of being Known?  Didn’t expect to be trapped reading a tale without recourse on how to know if the true end is horrible or not without going along with it until it reaches it’s natural conclusion, did you?

Have you considered that, perhaps, it is you who is trapped in the spider’s web?

So, tell me, how much do you really want to know?  You’re curious, aren’t you?  Driven.  Eager to witness all that happens here.  Why would you remain otherwise?

Let’s see how it goes, shall we?

Our story, our statement, resumes.

Ever so slowly, Ruby turns her head and looks at Penny.  There is no recognition, no emotion of any kind on her face.  Ruby blinks, or, rather, she closes her eyelids and opens them again in a movement that could be perceived as a blink.  A movement that makes her a stranger to Penny.

“Ruby,” Penny repeats, as if the simple utterance of the name will break the spell.  No such enchantment that can be so easily undone exists.  Not here.  Not now.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

New footsteps echo through the laboratory.  Penny spins around.  Dr. Watts makes his way over from the door.  Each step he takes is measured and calculated.  His past projects, those horrible menaces whispered about in fear, file into the room behind him.

Cinder looks at the scene laid out before her and smirks.  Tyrian laughs.  Hazel blocks the doorway with his bulk.

“For a super weapon, I expected you to be smarter than to simply walk into what was so obvious a trap.”  Dr. Watts chuckles at Penny.  “Foolish of me to underestimate the weakness of love, I suppose.”

“Let.  Ruby.  Go.”  Penny clenches her fists.  She raises her daggers.  She doesn’t have the advantage here, but that won’t stop her.

“If you insist.”  Watts waves a dismissive hand.  With his other, he takes a remote out from his pocket and clicks a button on it.  The clasps around Ruby’s wrists and ankles snap open.  He turns to walk away, but pauses before he exits the laboratory.  “Do try to leave at least some of them intact,” he tells Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel.  “It would be a pity for so many good bodies to go to waste.”  He exits.

Penny turns to Ruby one last time.  “Ruby…”  This time it’s a begging sob that escapes her lips.  “Please, no.”

Ruby stands.  She reaches around herself, to the sheath attached to her belt.  Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade there.  Ruby withdraws the weapon.  There’s no sign she recognizes the desperate plea in Penny’s eyes.

The sword slashes through the air.

Penny dodges.  She retreats away from Ruby’s attack.  Her daggers hover around her.  She can’t bring herself to command them to retaliate.

“Ruby, please, it’s me, it’s Penny!  You have to recognize me!”

Ruby draws back.  For a brief, hopeful second, Penny thinks she’s gotten through to her love.  A small smile appears on Penny’s lips.  It almost immediately falls away.

Ruby lifts her hand not holding the sword.  Around it, thick, black sludge forms.  It branches out into a limb all of its own.  Bleached white claws emerge at its tips, like grotesque fingers.  There’s a second where the Grimm arm moves and shifts, as if adjusting to its own weight.  A twisted smirk appears on Ruby’s face.  She looks between her new appendage and Penny.

Penny’s daggers come to bear a defensive position in front of her without her telling them to.  The Grimm arm tries to dart around them, but the daggers cut through it like butter.  It disintegrates into dust.  Ruby screams.  Her voice is loud, hoarse, and pained.  Penny hesitates, doesn’t take the opening.  She can’t… she doesn’t…she needs to…but it’s Ruby!  RUBY!

She can’t just kill her.  Penny glances behind her, at where she knows her team is, but there is no aid to be found there.  Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel are on the attack.  The less said about that carnage, the better.  Penny is on her own.  She turns back to Ruby and, with every fiber of her being protesting, she prepares to fight.

I’ll make it quick, Penny tells Ruby in her head.  You don’t deserve this suffering.  I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.

Penny ducks Ruby’s sword, and feigns to the left.

I’m sorry that this is how it ends.

Penny commands her daggers to cut through the Grimm limbs Ruby keeps painfully forming and sending at her.  She refuses to allow herself to wince at the agonizing screams.

I’m sorry you didn’t get to live a long and happy life.

Penny sees her opening.  Ruby has faltered.  Penny allows herself a second to take a breath, and then she lunges.  Her daggers all are pointed forward, ready to complete the death blow.

I’m sorry you ever had the misfortune of knowing me.

Penny’s killing blow doesn’t make its target.  Ruby faked her out.  Midway into Penny’s attack, she dodges.  Penny has no time to change course.  Her eyes widen.  Ruby’s Grimm limbs surround Penny, grab her, hold her.

Horror takes over Penny’s face.  She knows what’s going to happen right before the final Grimm arm makes the plunge into her chest.  Her mind goes blank with the pain.  Whether or not she’s screaming, Penny has no idea.

Ruby’s darkness, her corruption, seeps into Penny, worming its way to the mechanical girl’s heart, her core.  For Penny can only be destroyed if it is.  The Annihilation reaches its target.  It circles its prey, completely surrounding it.  It surges in for the kill.

In that dreadful moment, Death doesn’t come.  It was never going to.  It has, shall we say, a feel, for these things.  It knew, all throughout this battle, how it would end.  Death knew it would not be necessary to send its Reaper here.

The Silver Eye, which had protecting Ruby’s soul and had waited and waited and watched for its opportunity finally found its chance.  When the Grimm entombing it reached out to destroy the one its guardian loved, the Silver Eye, for the first time in its existence, felt something.

Remember, the Eye, on its own, had never been a whole.  It was forged, by the King of Vale, out of the remaining half of the Staff of Creation.  Though it could exist on its own, it never truly stopped longing to find its missing, stolen part.  And, when its prison made that final, almost deadly attack, through those dark tendrils ensnaring it, the Silver Eye finally felt that echo, that reverberation, that it had ached for for so very long.

In that moment, it wakes up and reaches.

Blinding silver light shines out through the laboratory.  Every vestige of Annihilation’s power, every bit of Grimm, inside a person or out, is disintegrated.  For those who have long since opened their arms to Destruction and allowed its influence into themselves, this means Death finally comes for its dues.  For Ruby, who the Silver Eye loves and cherishes, this means purification from her corruption.  For Penny, this means her life is spared and, from within her, the Silver Eye is answered.

Once upon a time, the General King of Atlas found the blueprints for an old inventor’s creation.  He saw it as a grand opportunity to build a great weapon for the glory of his kingdom.  To fuel it, he saw no better resource than his kingdom’s relic itself.  He split the Staff of Creation in half, stored one part away for later use and fashioned the other into a core for the new automaton.

Unbeknownst to him, in doing this, the General King created a mirror to the Silver Eye; the Winter Soul.  A new entity all of its own, it was.  One curious, fascinated about the world around it, and ever so willing to learn.

Is it such a shock then, that was built to be a weapon of immeasurable power turned its back to this objective and instead chose to attempt to understand and love the world it found itself in?  Is it such a shock that it came to love one who would be later chosen to preserve life itself?

Much has been written and recorded about the Fall of Atlas.  There are numerous accounts of the sudden surge of blinding light that shone across the kingdom.  Many theorize, but they do not know the truth of its source.  What they do know is that it wiped out the city’s mainframe and, for the first time in history, Atlas was left vulnerable.  It didn’t take long for the Rebellion’s ships to rise from Mantle and begin that final, gruesome attack after that.

Later, the Rebellion’s charge into Atlas Academy, of their slaughter of the robotic forces of the Atlesian Military, will be dramatized into something far more glorious and far less bloody than it was.  The retellings will focus on the storming of the throne room, of the General King being forced to his knees in surrender, the capture of the notorious Dr. Watts.  They will applaud the victories of the day, and blatantly ignore the executions of the weeks to follow.

And so, Atlas’s web of power collapses, crumpling into a thousand twisting, tangled threads.  The spider, the warmonger, who sat at its center, weaving and warping the world into something that suited him and only him, and growing fat off the results, is squashed.

Those two who were responsible, who gave the world the chance it needed to rid itself of the boot pressing down upon its throat, they were never known.

For Ruby, now saved from the Grimm but forever scarred by it, looks down upon the sleeping form of her fallen beloved, sees the full extent of Penny’s injuries, gathers her up in her arms, and steals her away to where she can be repaired.

In peace.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - ch2

Ok, I’m already regretting setting myself the art challenge.  It’s hard.  Huge kudos to all you artists out there.  Still, the clue for me should have been in the word ‘challenge’.  No, I don’t know why Alan’s hand is a different colour to the rest of him and shading features is pretty much impossible.  Maybe by the end of the fic I’ll have got the hang of it.  I might have to pick and easier idea for the next chapter

Huge thanks to @willow-salix​ for all the read throughs and pointers.

Earlier parts: One

Chapter Two

The early light of dawn was just visible around the curtain edges in the lounge.  The reflected light off the large screen projection illuminated the figures staring avidly at the screen with a soft blue glow.  The occasion had been deemed worthy of setting up the large cinematic screen meaning the whole glittering spectacle filled nearly a whole wall of the generously proportioned room.

 Jeff sat back in an aged leather armchair shipped specially from Kansas.  The form of it had moulded to his body by the passage of many years although he rarely had time to relax in it now.  Across the room Virgil and John, both on vacation from university, book-ended the sofa; a sleek designer affair that manged to combine both style and comfort.  Both looked sleepy and a little unfocussed.  Virgil had never been a fan of early mornings and it was entirely possible that John hadn’t actually made it to bed yet if he had spent the night engrossed in the stars.  His youngest son, still a child and growing into his talents, sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa rather than sitting on the chair itself.  In Alan’s hands was a cup of popcorn chosen especially for the cinematic treat.  He sat there in rapt awe, barely blinking as he popped piece after piece of white fluff into his mouth.  Jeff nursed his own mug of inky black coffee.  The aroma of the beans filling the space around him with a rich warmth.

 At last the moment they had been waiting for arrived.  Team USA marched into shot; processing around a stadium half a world and many time zones away.  Ranks of the chosen few strode across the screen in all their athletic glory.  The athletes were bedecked in pristine white trousers and shirts topped with navy blue blazers.  Red trim to the lapels completed the patriotic ensemble.   The young men and women chosen to represent their country trailed behind the flag bearer, their lines arranged with military precision. Jeff rather thought the effect was spoiled by the individuals walking out of step with each other and waving to the crowd in the surrounding stadium.  It jarred with his Air Force history which much preferred the uniformity of troops marching smartly in time.

 A squeal broke through his internal criticism of the scene.

 “There he is! There he is!”

 Alan’s voice, still high pitched in its youth, filled the space with an exuberant joy. The cup of popcorn was tilting dangerously towards the floor as the youngest of five spotted his next in line.

 The fourth Tracy son crossed the screen and disappeared out of sight in a matter of seconds and Jeff was forced to pause, rewind and replay the footage several times before Alan had got his fill of the sight.  

Gordon looked happy.  Happier than he had done for weeks.  Happy didn’t do justice to the beaming, grinning individual with sandy blonde hair slightly tinted by chlorine who strode between his fellow countrymen and women. He seemed to bounce along, riding the waves of the atmosphere that swirled around the stadium.  

 Jeff had seen little of his second youngest son lately despite technically living in the same house.  Both had demanding schedules; one filled with work and business meetings, the other filled with school and pool training.  The moment school had finished Gordon had been whisked away to the pre-games training camp, missing both his high school graduation ceremony and the senior prom. The young man on the screen was almost a stranger and definitely an enigma to him.

 Jeff’s eldest three sons were of a mind-set he could understand.  They were studious, clever, indeed highly gifted in their chosen fields.  He had been immensely proud when Scott had been accepted to Yale and then followed him down his own career path into the Air Force.  The young man was making quite a name for himself in the service if the regular updates sent through by old colleagues were to be believed; he had already been promoted to First Lieutenant and it looked like he would soon be a Captain.  Virgil excelled in engineering but also retained a quiet compassion that allowed him to see the world as more than just a set of variables and constants to be manipulated.  John had followed him to the stars and Jeff had no doubt that his quietest son could follow him out of Earth’s atmosphere and beyond just a theoretical study of space travel if he so desired.

 Gordon was evidently gifted too but in a direction he couldn’t quite comprehend. Physical ability was a facet he appreciated and even John had submitted to his requirement for regular structured exercise.  But a strong body needed to be a vessel for a keen mind and Gordon just hadn’t shown any particular leanings towards an academic field.

 He was as proud as any father could be that a son of his had reached the Olympics and at such a young age but he still worried for his son’s future prospects.    

 A sigh from the floor broke through his contemplations.

 “I wish we could have been there for the opening ceremony.”

 “Now Alan, we’ve been through this.  Gordon’s heats don’t start for another week.  I’ve got us tickets to his events and we will be there to see him compete in person but I just cannot spare the time to take you out there for the whole duration of the Games.”

 “But Virgil could have taken me.  Or John.” The voice was a petulant whine now.

 “Virgil and John might be on summer break but they both still have work to do.  The last thing either of them need is to be responsible for you at the biggest international sporting event in the world. Watching sport has never been your thing before.  It’s normally hard enough to prise you away from those video games you play.”

 Both Virgil and John looked infinitely relieved that neither of them was expected to be responsible for an excitable young teenager in a foreign country.  It was bad enough taking him bowling or to the cinema. Alan seemed to be well and truly gripped by Olympic fever, hence them all watching the live coverage of the opening ceremony at some hideous time of the morning rather than watching a recording at a more socially acceptable hour.  It seemed to mean so much to their youngest brother to get the chance to watch out for Gordon live that they hadn’t had the heart to refuse.  It was just as well Gordon had had his few seconds of glory on screen otherwise Alan would have been beyond devastated not to have seen him.  

 “But it’s the Olympics.  And it’s Gordon.”  As if this explained everything.

 “And you will get to see Gordon compete in every race he is in when we fly out next week. Even Scott has managed to arrange some leave so he can join us.  Gordon will be well supported.”

 Alan huffed slightly in response but went back to staring at the screen, the popcorn once again being shovelled in as figures from all nations strode across in a seemingly never ending stream of competitors.

 Once it became clear that Team USA would not be making another appearance Virgil and John sloped off.  Virgil to reclaim his bed, John to find his for the first time that sleep cycle having reverted to a near nocturnal pattern without classes to drag him away from his beloved stars.  Both had willingly joined the spectators in the lounge but the time difference left a lot to be desired and both were exhausted after a long and difficult semester. Jeff followed after but for him the destination was to work rather than bed.  Alan was soon left to watch the conclusion of the carefully choreographed spectacle alone.

 xoxoxox

 Virgil padded towards the kitchen, he socks making no sound on the hardwood floor. He could almost forget that there was anyone else in the apartment.  He had barely seen his brothers all day and Jeff was still at the office.  John had spent much of the day sleeping after grumbling that the city skies really hadn’t been worth staying up for.  He assumed Alan was engrossing in another gaming session. Part of him wondered if he ought to have a word with their dad; his youngest brother seemed to spend an unhealthy amount of time hooked up to a console.

 He paused at Alan’s door, taking a moment to take in the view through the crack. Rather than being strapped into a VR headset as expected, Alan was instead sprawled on his bed.  A screen was propped up on his knees.  The murmured one sided conversation suggested a video call rather than another game.  He wasn’t normally one to eavesdrop but curiosity overcame Virgil as he wondered who on earth Alan could be talking to.  He didn’t talk about any particular school friends and beyond Grandma they had no family to speak of.  He stayed to one side of the doorway out of sight and listened.  If he stood absolutely still he could just about pick up the other voice on the line.

 “The stadium looked huge.  What was it like?  Did you get some photos for me?”

 “Yeah, it’s massive.  Kinda makes be glad I’m not in the track and field events.  No photos though, we couldn’t take cameras in to the opening ceremony.  We didn’t even get to see the show afterwards, just lots of waiting around to go in then straight back to the Village after.  You probably saw more than I did.”

 Gordon then. He figured it must already be the next morning for their absent athlete.

 “Aww. We saw you, y’know.  Who was the cute blonde you were next to?”

 Virgil smirked.  For all he might bounce like an excited puppy Alan was evidently growing up and the hormones were kicking up.

 “Which one? Amber the high jumper or Brad the hockey player?”

 “Amber, I’ll leave Brad to you.  Think you can introduce me when we’re over there?”

 “No chance. Firstly, she already has a long term boyfriend.  And secondly, you’re about five years too young for that sort of stuff.”

 “Hey, I’m not that young.  Not that you’d think it the way things go round here.  There’s something going on and Dad won’t tell me about it.  Since John and Virgil got back Dad keeps having meetings with them in the study.”

 “Rather them than me.  You know as well as I do the study only means bad news.”

 “I don’t think so.  And since when has John ever been chewed out over anything.  It’s not like he ever missed curfew or turned in a bad report card. I don’t know what’s going on but this place is full of secrets.  They all just treat me as a kid though, like I wouldn’t understand.”

 “Try not to worry about it Al.  Why don’t you get John to help you finish that sim you were coding?”

 “Maybe. He just seems so busy though.”

 “Look, I’ve got to go, I’ve got training soon.  I’ll try and call same time tomorrow if that works for you.”

 “Sure.”

 “Don’t forget to eat your vegetables and clean your teeth.”

 “Yes Mom. Now don’t you need to go put some water wings on.”

 “Cheeky brat. Speak to you tomorrow.  Bye.”

 “Bye Gordo.”

 Virgil watched as the screen was put to one side, the smile sliding off of Alan’s face, before continued his journey to the kitchen to grab a drink.  That brief conversation with Gordon was more words than he had heard out of his youngest sibling in one go since he had arrived back home.  He had put it down to sullen teenage moods but evidently Alan could be quite chatty when he wanted to.

 Alan was clearly missing Gordon.  The youngest two had always been close.  Despite Gordon technically being closer in age to John than Alan the sibling friendship pairings hadn’t worked out that way.  Virgil realised how little he knew about the youngest pair beyond Gordon’s swimming.  Since when had Alan been able to code simulations? And what sort of simulations?

 He shrugged it off as a conundrum for another day.  They would be flying out to the Olympics in just a few days and he wanted to get a project plan sent off to his supervisor before that happened.  The meetings with Jeff, which Alan had evidently picked up on, had changed the direction of his post-grad project and he wanted to get the revisions in before travelling.  Bonding time could happen once the work was completed.

[purrincess-chat]

Love Squared CH2: Baby, We’re the New Romantics

I’ve updated @lnc2‘s birthday fic! Enjoy more Ladrien and girl squad shenanigans and TS chapter titles to add to the fun. I am hoping to finish this fic before the end of the month. It’s gonna be short and sweet and funny and wholesome. And Ladrien! All of my favorite things. 

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

Of all the people Ladybug expected to find in the park, Adrien Agreste was not one.

Well, to be fair, she only expected to find one person in the park that afternoon. When she’d found the rose with a note attached at her usual meeting place with Chat Noir with a request to meet in the park, she figured it was another one of his schemes to woo her, but she’d never been happier to be wrong.

He seemed just as shocked to see her, his cheeks darkening three shades before he swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair, and Ladybug did her best not to stare like a weirdo.

“Um, hi,” he said looking too cute for words. “I got your note. You wanted to meet up?”

“Wait? What?” She blinked.

“I found this note in my locker,” he said, holding up a note similar to hers. “You didn’t leave it?”

“No, I’m here because I found a note too,” she said, retrieving it from her yoyo. “I thought it was Chat Noir.”

“I didn’t-” he started, and at Ladybug’s raised brow, quickly cleared his throat. “I- don’t understand then. We both got the same note to meet here, so who sent them?”

“Good question.” She pursed her lips and glanced around with narrowed eyes until she spotted a picnic set up on the other end of the park. “But I have a feeling it has something to do with that.”

“What is all of this?” Adrien asked when they approached as Ladybug picked up a card addressed to the both of them.

“Dear Ladybug/Adrien,

Don’t panic. We couldn’t help but notice that you two seem to like each other, so we’ve arranged a romantic picnic for the two of you. Don’t be shy, just enjoy it!

-The Ladrien Support Squad

P.S. Don’t deny your feelings. They’re obvious.

P.P.S. Ladrien is the couple name we made up for you two!”

When Ladybug finished reading, she glanced up at Adrien whose cheeks were as red as her suit, and she had a feeling hers were the same. Something in the handwriting was familiar, but she would investigate later.

“So,” Adrien said, clearing his throat. “Do you really- I mean, you know?”

“I-” Ladybug looked into his eyes, prepared to lie, but the timid, almost hopeful glint in them made her brain malfunction.

Because she didn’t want to lie to him. Of course, she knew that she should. A superhero couldn’t be in a relationship with a civilian. It was too dangerous, and as she opened her mouth to say as much, Adrien spoke first.

“I do,” he said, and she felt goosebumps race up her back as her heart took off into a sprint. “I love you, Ladybug.”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say.

Adrien was in love with her! She could tell him she was in love with him too. He’d probably kiss her afterward, and she really wanted to do that. But…she shouldn’t. But she wanted to. Could she? No. It was out of the question obviously. If Hawkmoth targeted Adrien, she’d never forgive herself.

“Sorry,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh. It was for his safety. At least, that’s what she told herself to lessen the pain. It didn’t work very well.

“Oh,” he said, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw his shoulders slump, the light in his eyes dimming. “Um, that’s okay. I- we barely know each other, so of course you’re not in love with me.”

Ladybug’s heart dropped to her feet as those sad green eyes lowered to his shoes. Then again, she thought, if Hawkmoth laid a single finger on those golden locks, she’d end him herself.

“No, I- do,” she said before she could think better of it, and now committed to the truth, added with a sigh, “I do love you, Adrien. It’s just that I-”

At her declaration, Adrien stepped forward and placed a kiss on her cheek, and she felt them warm under the softness of his lips. Adrien’s lips. On her cheek. Adrien in love with her. Was this another daydream? Adrien pulled back and flicked his gaze down to her lips, silently asking for more, and as she stretched up to meet him, she swiftly learned that this was far too vivid to be a daydream which could only mean that it was real.

Adrien was really kissing her! It was enough to distract her from the fact that someone out there set this up, and if someone could observe her feelings for Adrien by watching news footage then Hawkmoth probably could too. They’d have to tread carefully.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Adrien said with a dreamy sigh when they pulled away, and she let out a breathy laugh.

“I certainly didn’t expect it myself,” she said, biting her lip.

“I wonder who set this all up,” he said, glancing around at the candles and rose petals.

Yes, who indeed.

“No matter. I’m really glad they did.” He smiled at her. “Shall we?”

Ladybug couldn’t be too annoyed. Not when she spent the next hour and a half leaning against Adrien’s chest while they fed each other grapes and talked about how long they’d had their feelings. Of course, she couldn’t exactly tell him the whole truth since it would give away her identity, but she made up a believable enough story.

It was funny to her now, knowing that she’d been worried all this time about him being in love with someone else, never once believing that the other person could also be her. It wasn’t the her she’d imagined, but she’d take what she could get. Because she was Ladybug even without the mask, and one day she’d be able to tell him that. Then they’d get married, have three kids, a house, and a hamster named-

“I want to be with you, Ladybug,” Adrien was saying as he trailed his thumb along her jaw. “Earlier before I cut you off, you were going to say how dangerous this is, right?” He flicked those green eyes down to meet hers with a somberness she’d never seen before. “I didn’t want to hear it because I’ve wanted this for too long, and I don’t want to give you up now. Not when I know you love me back.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said, and the somberness went away, an almost amused glint taking its place.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I promise, I’ll be careful,” he said, tilting her chin up. “Besides, I know you’ll protect me.”

The kiss made her head spin, and more than anything, she didn’t want to let go. Everything she’d always dreamed of had been handed to her out of nowhere, and she didn’t care how selfish it was to kiss him back. She sacrificed so much for this city every day. Wasn’t it time that she got something in return? Couldn’t she have this?

Adrien seemed to think so as he held her close and kissed her deeply, delicately. He held her as if she were a precious, fragile doll, and Ladybug could tell that he was holding back, not wanting to be too forward or overly passionate. Always the gentleman.

“I promise, I won’t let anyone harm you,” she breathed against his lips, and she felt his curl into a smile.

“I know. I trust you.”

When Adrien left for his piano lesson, Ladybug let a breath pass her lips, glancing down at the card resting on the picnic basket. She picked it up again, examining the handwriting with pursed lips before tossing her yoyo across the street and pulling herself up into the rooftops with one tug.

 Across town, the girls had gathered at Alya’s to celebrate their victory. They’d actually done it! Marinette was finally getting to be with her prince, and it was all thanks to them!

“They just looked so cute together,” Rose squealed, squishing her cheeks together.

“Imagine how cute they’re going to look when they find out! I can’t wait until they defeat Hawkmoth,” Mylene added.

“Okay, but just remember that this is all on the major DL. They can’t know that we’re the ones behind this, and no one else can know that we know. We’ve sworn a vow,” Alya said sternly, flicking her gaze to each of the girls in her room.

“Yeah, duh, we know.” Alix rolled her eyes. “We’re just happy that our friends are happy.”

“We just have to be extra careful and do everything we can to keep them together,” Alya said, holding out her hand. “Ladrien Support Squad, on three?”

The other girls all placed their hands in a circle, ready to recite their chant until a red and black spotted hand joined the mix, and they all scattered with shrieks. Ladybug crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip to one side.

“So, is anyone going to tell me why you’ve all decided to meddle in my love life, or am I going to have to guess?”

[bepoets]

Review for Trish’s Dream Fic

Trish ( @couragedontdesertme  ) said she’d write an epilogue of the elsarik dream Fic if I made a Formal Review of the elsarik dream fic. So here we are.

Please note review should be taken VERY LIGHTLY this is more or less me re-reading the Fic and loudly yelling about things with too many exclamation points. Enjoy Trish.

Ch1

First of all imagine my fucking surprise I didn’t even know you had gotten work done on the dream fic???? Here I was thinking the link you sent me was the next chapter of city of ice and then I click on it and it saYS DREAM FIC???? E X C U S E M E oh my goodness

The first section is just so entirely domestic and beautiful and you can tell how lived in and content they are in their life as roommates. ALARIK (listen my phone autocorrects ALARIK to be in all caps and I’m too lazy to fix it so y’all are gonna have to deal with reading ALARIK’s name as if I’m yelling it every time I type it) anyway ALARIK just bringing her the chocolate croissants she loves so dearly and Elsa curling up with a book and him fretting and worrying over her being there alone all day and later... it’s just SO DOMESTIC. it’s such a small short moment but it’s so domestic and a perfect opposite of the PAIN THAT HAPPENS AFTER!!! And we al know I LOVE READING PAIN

The fact that ALARIK was only home late because he was doing tutoring to earn more money to by Elsa A PRESENT????? Shut up no one speak to me that’s true love but also PAINFUL the guilt he must feel oh my god

Elsa...stops struggling... because she doesn’t want ,,,, ALARIK ,,,, to get hurt. Because she cares for his safety more than her own because he has protected her and he is her friend and she loves him I am going to SCREAM

The fact that you use the phrase ~marching her out of the warmth of the room~ when she just used her magic to like cover the walls in frost makes my Heart burst cause idk if it was intentional or not but I just love the thought that this room has become Home to her it’s become safe and beautiful and lovely and WARM because it is full of love and friendship and companionship rather than the cold loneliness of say her ice palace of her locked room as a child. I like to think Elsa could have covered the room entirely in ice and snow and frost and it would still feel warm to her because of the love that’s developed there thank you for coming to my tedtalk

Ugh fuck hans

I have literally no words other than fuck hans for any section with hans in it I DONT even want to RECOGNIZE THAT HE EXISTS !!! Making Elsa feel like she’s nothing I am going to punch him in the eye

~ALARIK weeps over smushed chocolate croissant. End scene~

I know that it’s such a heartbreaking sad ending for that first chapter but also I really can’t stop laughing about him crying over a stepped on croissant since I know that your like planning note for that last scene was literally just some variant of ALARIK cried over a smushed croissant and that’s just such a funny IMAGE TO ME EVEN THOUGH ITS SAD

I just like to imagine ALARIK cradling the chocolate croissant in his arms like a bébé as he sobs

Ch2

I’m fucking S A D

ALARIK having like NO MONEY and just thinking about that the money he has was going to go to a gift for Elsa and the guard LAUGHING AT HIM LIKE THATS IT THATS ALL YOU HAVE?? Like shut UP HES TRYING TO SAVE HIS BELOVED

P e t t y c h a n g e HE IS TRYING MR GUARD I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW HE WORKED EXTRA TO GET THAT MONEY

ALARIK is so fucking DEVOTED I’m going to run through a goddamn wall I cannot cope. Willing to sell the clothes off his back have you ever seen an idiot more iN LOVE

ALARIK just going willingly cause he has no fight left in him and he just wants to see Elsa even if it means he gets imprisoned too oh my GOD

THE SCENE ITS THE SCENE!!!!!!!!!

STRAIGHT FROM TRISH’S SUBCONSCIOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT STARTED IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!

ALARIK wanting to hold her hands when her hands are what are chained up and seen as dangerous and what ~make her a witch~ the absolute love and power that holds.

LET ALARIK AND ELSA HOLD HANDS

“I promised to keep you safe” the pain I feel oh mY GOD

“They’ll KILL you” they’re really out here trying to protect each other at all costs oh my god nothing matters more to the other than keeping the other safe and for that I want to cry and love them and also I want to ram their heads into the wall because wHY WONT THEY JUST PROTECT ESCH OTHER TOGETHER

The PARALLEL OH MY FUCKING GOD

the P A R A L L E L of ALARIK stilling and no longer struggling when the guards threaten Elsa’s death in the same way that Elsa stilled and stopped struggling when they threatened ALARIK’s death oh my god that broke me right there

U g h hans fuck that guy

A N N A !!!!!!!!

When I first read this,,, I DONT know why??? But for some reason??? I didn’t think Anna would be in it???? Which like thinking back on that it makes no sense of COURSE Anna would be in the FIC why would I ever think otherwise. But anyway I was so surprised when she showed up I literally gasped and went ANNA??? Out loud because I was so shocked

ALFAFA GERANIUM

ALARIK really is just so bad under pressure who thought this was a good idea

AG FOR SHORT wink wink nudge nudge cough cough

I’ll be thinking about ALARIK shouting alfafa geranium on my death bed let us never forget

“No harm, no foul” is literally the most fucking Anna line I’ve ever heard. She absolutely would say that to someone who was being question for a crime she’d be like “it’s not biggy”

Why is it that when hans says “BUT ANNA!!!” I hear it like he’s wining like a petulant child I read it like “bUT annNNAAAAA” ugh I hate him

“Don’t scream” *ALARIK’s inner monologue* “this ,, is the story of how I died”

ILL HELP YOU HELP HER ESCAPE!!!!! HELL YEA YOU WILL ANNA HELL YEA YOU WILL

Ch3

My dumbass really went “why are none of the children named neta” before remembering that is the child of Anna and Kristoff and these...are the children of Anna ,,, and .... ugh please don’t make me say his name

I would die for these kids though I love them and I want to protect them at all costs 

Johannes at 5 (and a half!!!!) being a fine soldier GOOD FOR HIM

Isak owns my entire heart from the moment he started fake crying for his mother what a star performer a true Actor he’s too good

Arendellian Royal Guards, are they guards? Or are they simply baby sitters? The world may never know

JOAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One of the babies being named JOAN!!! Hang in there Joan!!!!!!!!! That made me cry oh my god J O A N

Bébé Isak lookout supreme with his big eyeballs and smile and goofy lil salute I love him

The fact that Elsa says she felt stupid for being lured into a false sense of security means she felt secure and safe for literally the first time since she was a child when she was with ALARIK and I cannot properly articulate how much that made me cry I love that so much that has to mean sO MUCH TO HER oh my god

“You have to get out!! Do the magic!!” NO ONE SPEAK TO ME ABOUT ANYTHING EXCEPT THIS LINE FOR THE NEXT SEVERAL MONTHS I LITERALLY WEPT

the use of DO THE MAGIC oh my god AND ELSAS HEART LIKE BREAKING BECAUSE SHE FEELS LIKE SHE CANT

DO ! THE ! MAGIC !

Brave little boy with his mother’s determination saying “be brave. That’s what mama said to tell you” oh my GOD THESE CHILDREN HAVE MY WHOLE HEART OH MY GOD

A rooster crow for the signal COUKD they be more obvious I love these kids they’re ridiculous they are truly the children of Anna

Elsa!!! Chose!! To be!!! Brave!!!

IF SHE TRIED TO SAY GOODBYE TO ELSA!!! SHE MAY NEVER LET GO!!!

SHE HAD NO WHERE TO GO!!! BUT SHE DOES BEVAUSE THERES ALARIK WAITING FOR HER BECAUSE GUESS WHAT

ALARIK IS HER HOME !!!!! HE IS HER HOME !!!! SHE CAN GO TO HIM!!!!

Queue another one of my shocked and delightfully surprised screams as I shouted KRISTOFF????? Because blonde dude driving a reindeer cart

Let’s get you somewhere safe I’m going to cry THEYRE finally together again and they can keep each other safe together as. They. Should.

They are cuddling and my heart is exploding oh my god ALARIK seems so surprised like you big dumb idiot you’re both in love with each other it’s a mutual thing get with the program

SLEEP ELSA! ITS GOING TO BE OKAY! AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN PROBABLY FOREVER! IT WILL BE!

Ch4

*queue another gasp* there’s only one bed?????

Yea I saw it coming yea I was just as shocked even so yea I got very excited about it wHAT DID YOU EXPECT

They’re cUDDLING and he went to move away and she DOESNT WANT HIM TO they could’ve been sharing a bed THIS WHOLE TIME AND I JUST WANT TO SCREAM BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY

ALARIK laying all the credit on kristoff and the kids when he’s kind of the one that steamrolled the whole plan into happening because he’s the one who showed up ALARIK please give yourself more credit

“You came back” “of course I came back... I couldnt ...” “why?” And then ALARIK refusing to meet her eyes has me absolutely weeping this is the kind of shit I THRIVE ON this is truly a gift to us all everyone say thank you Trish for these three bits of dialogue I will be thinking about them for all my days

ELSA KISSED HIM!!!!!!!!!

Yeah I do lose my shit anytime Elsa is the one to make the first move you go girl you go

THE SPICE VENDOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bringing in all my favorites I am going to cry thank you Trish I love Darius

I SUPPOSE YOU TWO HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN MARRIED

listen I SCREAMED WHEN HE SAID THAT I SQUAWKED!!!! MARRIED!!!!!!

I had been observing you two and just assumed!!!!! You would assume right mr spice vendor sir if they WERENT so stupid for so long it’s okay we understand

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE ??? And Elsa says MARRY US? And ALARIK is going to PASS THE FUCK OUT

He literally got to finally kiss the woman he’s in love with for the first time last night and now they’re getting married poor boy is going to get WHIPLASH from how fast things are progressing but it’s okay im sure he is happy

Elsa’s little vows of just needing each other and keeping each other safe and keeping company and not needing gold or silver ugh TRUE LOVE

And ALARIK hopelessly devoted to her being like I PROMISE

“just you being there no matter what is enough” peak romance true love the devotion the dedication I’m a wreck

LE SMOOCH! LE MARRIAGE! INCREDIBLE I LOVE THEM

~end review~

Okay where is my epilogue please and thank you

[antihero-writings]

Jack of All Trade, in This Masquerade (Ch2)

Fandom: Pandora Hearts 

Fic Summary: Jack's stream of consciousness describes how society is like a masquerade, while his dreams show his own hypocrisy

I'll put the link to ch1 in a reblog, as well as do a reblog-version of this chapter that includes both chapters!

Notes: 

Nope, I didn't forget about this fic, haha! Actually this fic has been sitting on my computer taunting me for WAY too long. This is probably the fic I open and try to work on, and then close again, unable to work on it, more than any other...

Lately I've been going through old fics that I left unfinished on my computer and trying to post them by whatever means necessary. For a number of them, those means are simply cutting it earlier than I planned to. I desperately wanted this fic to be included in the mix. First I only wanted this fic to be one chapter, then I wanted it to be two...now it's gonna be three or more XD I've just been super unsure about how to write the next part for a very long time, but I have had this part done for too long...and the dissonance between the two made it hard to go anywhere with it. I hope posting this will help me be able to figure out the next part, haha!

Another reason I was hoping to write the next part too is because I wanted to use the second chapter of this for the "Lock" prompt of Phmonth19... but this chapter doesn't really work for it. So just know that was my goal, haha!

I mentioned this in the other chapter, but the song "Masks" by Aviators is absolutely perfect for this fic, and I highly recommend listening to it during or after you read it, haha!

If you enjoyed this, I'd really really appreciate if you could leave me a comment to let me know!! They truly do motivate me to continue, and make my week!! If you want to read more of this fic, I can assure you I'll be faster at writing the next chapter, if I know people are actually going to read it!!

Chapter 2: The Color of Tragedy

The scene shifted, paint on a canvas smearing, and Glen became a black satin stain beneath layers of paint, the crimson and commanding presence disappearing as the world rearranged itself.

The many Jacks faded into the background too, until he couldn’t tell if they remained mirrors—(mirrors hidden within the many halls and rooms, built within the walls of his heart)—or if they were strangers and friends again; other people, not himself.

The pillars to the ballroom slowly dissolved, as if in water, changing into a courtyard green sprouting up all around.

The music had always been an unfamiliar tune he was expected to inherently know the moves to. And no matter how much he listened to it, it never became innate. Now, after all this time, it morphed into something familiar. But familiar did not mean un-painful or un-maddening.

The soft tune of a pocket watch tiptoed on his brain, each footfall a syringe in his thoughts, dripping cold beautiful insanity slowly into his soul, one drop at a time, infecting it until it blocked out every other melody, and his feet forgot the moves he had so ruthlessly sewn in.

When he turned, the source was behind him; a man standing in the courtyard. All black now; black hair, black cloak. No crimson. Like he never spilt her blood. Like she never existed in the first place. All black…except for the eyes. Gaze fluctuating between daggers…and some emotion he was struggling to keep from escaping; the leader, and the broken boy, crying on the ground. Soot with sparks buried within; glints of violet, glints of gold. Glitches of empathy in the perfect program. His eyes focused on the pocket watch—(a glint in the dark itself)—until they flicked to him, and Jack felt those eyes as a sword at his throat.

At the shift in his gaze, the scene itself turned over again, wind blowing by him, a single spark of violet glowing in the blurred tapestry, and ever, ever that melody, slowly corroding him.

Glen sat in the grass on a sunny day, those violet blades sheathed as he bathed in the afternoon sunlight.

The first respite from the dance in all these years. A rest in the measure.

Glen, sitting in the sunlight. Glen, playing the piano—always that single, haunting melody, laced with a name, filling up Jack’s mind with the harmony until he was drowning in its sound, and could think no other word.

That melody, that word, and her voice—(A memory of her voice, soon given to him by a bloodstained black rabbit)—pulling him through the blurred universe to a balcony, drawn there like he was ink on a canvas, subject to the whims of the artist.

Brown hair, like hers.

Violet eyes, like his.

White dress.

Black dress.

Her existence was not tied down. As if it was a part of the smear itself, and not the concrete picture beneath it. She was a part of all these mistakes the artist tried to smudge out.

Jack pulled a white rose from his pocket.

He offered her a red rose.

“Would you care to dance, Alice?”

******

A little girl held the keys to those chains—held them, held by them all the same; that is to say her world would fall into the dark too, if the bounds were to break. A little girl chose the music, the steps. A little girl ruled the world.

Is that why they call it insanity?

Her daughter.

Gods may be fixed in the sky, watching all our misdeeds, and we believe in them, not they us, but children can be made to believe anything. Such as: men who come down the chimney do so to give them presents, that putting their teeth beneath pillows is anything more than gross. One can make them believe the world isn’t made of malice. You can make them believe you haven’t sewn your mask—and the things you stole to get those jewels, things like lives—into the skin. You can make them think you’re a hero coming to save them, make them more than a blur, a mistake, a prisoner of their own creation, but a part of something real and concrete, when you’re just using them, like everyone else will. Naiveté is powerful and dangerous in that way.

I heard her voice one day. Lacie’s. Not just in my memories. This was real, one piece of her reaching out to me from the black.

She had this toy rabbit. A toy, yes, but to a god, a toy can be a thinking, living, breathing, thing, with nothing more than a thought to animate it. Dolls and figures can be princesses and princes, and their knights and soldiers. Children dream. And lonely children dream the most. And a lonely god is a dangerous thing indeed. Especially a child god, surrounded by lifeless toys. Dangerous, because of the stories they tell themselves in the silence can become real indeed.

It was this toy that brought her voice to me, like a gift, physical thing. Packaged up a memory and sent it off to me.

So it was back to the dance. But this time it was different. Because even if there were other melodies out there somewhere, other moves to know, my ears only heard one twinkling pocket watch, my feet would only obey one conductor.

And this melody was not bound by little girls, and lonely gods, and broken, blood struck leaders. This one I could make up my own moves to, intertwine them with the motions and melodies of the rest of the world, so no one would know I was dancing to my own song.

This rabbit, the one who brought her voice to me had a name. Oz—(like Oswald…but not like him at all)—was to be my chain. A chain different from the rest. A chain that was not friendship, or love, or hate, or malice. A chain that was not sanity or insanity. A chain that was not keeping the world upright. A chain to break all other chains. Bringing her to me. Tying me to her. My chain, to destroy all the chains keeping me from hearing her voice again, and her from the world she loved.

A god who creates something that can destroy their world is dangerous indeed.

Little girls and their dolls, toy rabbits and puppet kings, a tear or two, and some spilled blood couldn’t stop me now.

******

The world blurred in black and white, gold and red, violet and green.

Which color was real?

Was it the black and white; just the game of chess?

Was it the endless violet in the king’s eyes?

The gold of shimmering lights, and the eyes of scared little boys just trying to help?

Was it the green, the vibrant, envious green of his clothes, his eyes?

Or was it all the red they spilled?

And there was. So much red. One could have painted with it. He did. The floors. The walls. The roses he once promised she’d see. The world.

But even within those colors… nothing was quite solid, quite sure.

Because the gold didn’t shimmer anymore. Those golden eyes were full of fear, determination. They didn’t gleam with false riches, but with real poverty; a poverty that comes not from losing your money, but losing your friends, or your sanity.

Because that green wasn’t the vibrant bloom of a garden. It was not envy or eternity or ephemerality and it—he—too was dyed with red.

Because when Oswald truly put a sword to Jack’s throat his eyes held no sting. Those violet blades held nothing more than infinite sorrow. He called him his friend. But he saw him at the end of a sword, at the end of themselves, at the end of the world.

Or at least, that was Jack’s goal.

But the king made sure the only world that ended was their own, cutting off the hand for the sake of the rest of the body. Gouging out the eye for the sake of the face.

And there was another Jack trapped within the reflection on the sword—(mask or real?)—looking like a broken thing determined to hold itself together. And when something gets to that point, is broken enough…it doesn’t care. About much of anything. Not itself. Not the friend on the other end. Just whatever it is holding itself together.

The king’s head is lying on the board.

“Glen?”

Jack is calling his name, cradling his red-stained head in his hands, tears smearing the green of his eyes.

How did he die? Who killed him? How can he make them pay?

But his hands are covered in blood.

What’s the mask? The blood? Or the tears?

And now everything, once too blurred, once just a smear on a canvas, a move in the midst of a dance, is too real, too concrete, too irreversible.

Checkmate. But he doesn’t feel like he’s won the game.

And as he cries, as he screams and demands why, the masks peer out of the corners of the board, stare his way, snickering at him from the hidden passageways deep inside him.

The closer he got to his goal, the more those chains fell apart, finally creating his own moves to the dance…the less he he noticed something wrapping around his arms, his legs.

He rushed to the tower where the god-girl will grant his wishes at last—the bottle for the genie—where he will be free.

And she would have granted him all, if only he would have freed her from her bottle.

She wouldn’t have hesitated to destroy the world for him.

Were it not for her other half, the rabbit’s tears, and a pair of scissors.

At last the machine remembers the wrench; the one that tried to change the patterns, the melody, long ago, all for a single distortion in the system that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. The one whom its gears once kicked to the bottom, the one who clawed his way back up. And it knows kicking him back down there again won’t be enough.

Fine. If he wanted to change the system, the dance, the melody, then the system would exclude him, treat him as an error. The dance will leave him with everything he wanted, everything he was, everything he created.

He opens his eyes.

There is no ballroom. No dance. No dancers. …Maybe there never was.

A cell. Or at least, he thinks it is, but he doesn’t see any walls or floors, just navy darkness, and a crack in the dimension above, like a slit in the prison door, letting in the tiniest bit of light.

He takes a step.

There’s a sloshing noise.

So there’s water in the bottom of this cell. Is the prison’s being flooded? He ought to tell the guards.

One more step.

Something cuts the air. A terrible sound; like somebody took a beautiful thing and melted it down, and melded it into something it was never meant to be.

Laughter. Twisted, reckless, mirthless, soulless laughter. As if he stepped on a malfunctioning Jack-in-the-box, with no need for the song.

There’s no music anymore. And the the absence of it threatens to suffocate him.

Another step, another laugh, different, but no less jagged.

He doesn’t want to look down. Doesn’t want to see. To face it. He knows. He knows what he’ll find there.

But he does it anyways.

Beside his foot is a mask. A fine porcelain one, like from a theater, that would cover the whole face. The slit-eyes are curved down, the mouth curved up, to signify happiness.

It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.

But he knows, if he were to put it on, it would fit his handsome face perfectly.

He puts a hand over his mouth to barricade the sick, to cloister his silver tongue, and takes a step back.

But when he does, another warped sound wrenches open the air. This time it’s crying.

He spins around. His heel is on another mask.

But, as he looks upon it, his eyes are pulled upward as if on strings. There is something far worse behind him. It’s like a snowy mountain.

Masks, endless, empty, lifeless masks. This place is surely built upon them.

All the masks he ever wore.

Does he even have a face anymore?

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 5

I’ll be re-creating my individual chapter posts for An Accord over here on the blog that replaces starkerstories. Until I hit the current chapter, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll have links to both tumblr and AO3 chapter links. I’m sorry if that bothers people who’ve seen this all before in the tag. I’m content to leave all my other fic as AO3 only, but this is my current favorite child, so I’m spoiling it rotten.

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Hopefully every Friday. More chapters may appear sooner if the writing is going well. Because I have 0 self-control.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Steve Rogers is the one and only voice of authority for the entire world.” Bucky ducked his head. “I may have asked him when he was going to be fitted for his armband.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 5: On accounta the stew

“Oh god that smells good,” Peter said, padding barefoot from the bedroom around ten into the kitchen, wearing a baggy pair of sweats and an even baggier, threadbare MIT t-shirt. “But y’know you don’t have to keep cooking for us.”

“I have to eat,” Bucky said with a shrug.

Tony followed next out of the bedroom, slightly less dressed, wearing only a pair of boxers, but apparently a shower had been taken because he was wearing considerably less dirt. “You don’t have to earn your keep here, Bucky.” Tony opened the drawer next to the fridge. “If I don’t have a menu for a place in here, it’s because their food sucks. FRIDAY, give Bucky level 1A access to you and 2 access to everything else.”

“Yes boss.”

“There ya go. Order what you want whenever you want it. Though not if you want to spend seven billion on a microscope.”

“And put a huge dent in the thing,” Peter chided.

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s the casing. It doesn’t affect how it works, just how it looks. If it offends you so much, I’ll fabricate a new one out of gold-titanium alloy that’s harder to dent.”

“Oh god you’re gonna do that anyway just to make it red and gold.”

“You know me so well babe,” Tony said, grinning. He went over and looked into the huge pot simmering on low on the stove. “What is that?”

“Our late dinner.” Peter stuck a long spoon into the pot. “Stew. And it’s delicious.” He got a bowl and filled it.

“It’s all right,” Bucky said. “I ate about… oh… four hours ago. Y’know, Tony, soundproofing might be an investment worth considering,” he added, laughing.

Peter turned bright red. “Oh god.” He sat the bowl of stew down at the end of the table for Tony and filled another for himself.

“This is actually… good,” Tony said. “Tastes like the Irish stew Jarvis used to make.”

“Vision cooks?”

“Not JARVIS, Jarvis. Our butler.”

“You had a…”

“Of course he did,” Peter said with a sigh. “You get used to him dropping things like that as if everyone in the world grew up in a huge mansion with a butler and a staff. Do not ever expect him to change the sheets.”

“That’s what the staff is for.”

Bucky sat at the table across from Peter, next to Tony. “Steve would say it’s not proper Irish stew because you didn’t have any stout. Like Sarah ever kept liquor in her house…” He stopped suddenly, caught by the memory. “Sorry.” He hesitated. He wanted to talk about it but wasn’t sure of the reception. He decided to chance it.

“Even after your dad’s experiment changed him, he was still Steve. He was different, but underneath the whole Captain America thing, he was still the kid I grew up with in Brooklyn. He was a soldier, like the rest of us. A little headstrong, rubbed up against orders sometimes, but he took them.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, he reached his hand across the table and touched Bucky’s.

“Which is why I couldn’t understand…” Tony shook his head. “A hundred and seventeen countries, including this one… and half of his team… thought accountability was a reasonable request that the world was making of us.”

“It is,” Bucky said. “I spent the last year, since I left Wakanda, listening to Steve. The way he described it, in the context of what happened to SHIELD, not trusting another World Security Council sounded reasonable.”

“Why’d you change your mind?” Tony asked.

“I read them. He had his copy still. I couldn’t sleep. I’d read just about everything else where we were staying. So I actually read the Accords for myself.”

“They’ve been amended since then.”

“I saw that when I signed. I made them wait until I read the addendum pages.”

Tony laughed. “I bet they loved that.”

“After I signed, that’s when I got into it with him. He’s mad I signed. I still don’t understand why he didn’t. You guys, the Avengers, he said you were soldiers.”

Tony scoffed. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Well, you take orders better than one former U.S. Army Captain.” Bucky huffed in anger. “Without an effective chain of command, without oversight, there’s nothing to stop an army from turning on the people and putting someone like Hitler in charge. We both saw that happen. But no. Steve Rogers is the one and only voice of authority for the entire world!” Bucky ducked his head. “I may have asked him when he was going to be fitted for his armband.”

Tony sputtered around a forkful of stew. “I’d’a paid money to see his face.

“But you get it,” Tony continued. “When I found out what Stark was doing — what it was allowed to do — not only by my negligence, but because the DoD writes checks and never pays attention to what’s done with the money — I got out of the business. I couldn’t be a part of that. Is it still a problem with other companies, sure. I can’t right every wrong in the world. But I don’t have to be complicit with it. Rogers, he’s like — anyone who’s an Avenger can do whatever they want, whenever they want, anywhere in the world they want to do it. Which, okay, maybe. There’s less than two dozen of us and we were a team. That’s less of a problem. But there are many more Enhanced who the Avengers Initiative has no authority over.”

“The Accords still don’t,” Peter said. “I haven’t signed.”

“No. Neither has Murdock, Cage, Jones, Skye, Elena, and a whole lot more. A lot have signed, though. But since I’ve been unofficially running things, we monitor those who haven’t. What’s left of SHIELD handles the situation if an Enhanced becomes a threat. You’re not a threat, baby. And if you ever do decide to step out of the ‘friendly neighborhood’, you’re going to have to sign.”

“I will. I’m just not ready yet.”

“And I’m not ready to put you at that level of risk yet either. It’s above your paygrade. Keeping the world safe is my job. Keeping the streets safe is yours.”

“Fury said that for him to be able to debrief me, I had to become part of the Avengers Initiative.”

“So you’re on world-saving duty along with Tony.”

“Peter, that is the highest end dishwasher they make in the world. You don’t even have to rinse the bowl. Just put it in the machine. God,” Tony said exasperatedly as he watched Peter start to lower his bowl into the sink.

“And all you have to do is stretch the elastic corners over the ends of the mattress,” Peter said, noisily clattering both bowl and silverware in the sink.

Bucky laughed.

“Sorry. Old fights,” Tony said.

“We’ve only been together nine months, how can they be old fights?”

“They were old fights two weeks after you moved in and started leaving dishes in the sink and failing to notice that there’s a laundry hamper in the dressing room.”

“Elastic corners, Tony. You don’t even have to tuck them in the way I bet Bucky used to have to do.”

“Oh no. I am not getting in the middle of this. He’s the one who lets me live here, you’re the one who keeps me from destroying the room when I have a nightmare. Nope.” Bucky headed for the sofa. “I’m also not doing the dishes. I cooked.”

“You don’t cook so you can eat,” Tony said in a revelatory tone. “You cook so you don’t have to clean up after!”

“They did tell me you were a genius,” Bucky said, scrolling through Netflix. “After I learned how to cook, my sister got stuck with the dishes because she cooked like Peter says you do.”

“Staff, you guys. We. Had. Staff.” Tony got up shaking his head and emptied the sink of its dishes. He picked up the pot and poured its contents into the side of the sink with the disposal.

“What did you just do‽” Bucky said, leaping up from the sofa.

“You cooked too much. It's no big deal.” Tony started the disposal.

Bucky sputtered. “That was for the next three, maybe four days.”

“Uh, no.”

“Leftovers. Don’t you know the concept?”

“Didn’t most of your generation die of food poisoning?” Tony rinsed the pot and stuck it in the dishwasher with the bowls.

“Because we tried to keep food cold with ICE! Not a fridge that’s more technologically advanced than my arm! Stew is always better on the second day.”

“So’s salmonella.”

Peter came up and put his hand on Bucky’s arm. “It’s useless. I tried to keep leftover Chinese once. Got the same lecture. You learn to live with it.”

“It’s wasteful,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “There are people who…”

“Are eating tonight at one of seven homeless shelters the Stark Foundation funds every year. I am not getting food poisoning over either of yours guilt.”

“Used to be six. But then he threw out my leftover Chinese that I was saving.”

“Make it eight on accounta the stew.”

“If it’ll save my stomach, I’ll make it a round ten. No leftovers.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand. “Thanks for dinner, pretty. It was good.”

“Woulda been better tomorrow,” Bucky muttered as he headed for the sofa and Tony and Peter headed for their bedroom.

Peter ducked his head back around the corner of the hall. “There’s wireless headphones in the drawer under the TV. Not as good as soundproofing but,” he added with a shrug before disappearing.

~~~~~

“I was worried,” Natasha said, answering Bucky’s call.

“It's not bad. It's good actually,” Bucky said. “Tony and Peter — the spider kid — are together.”

“Together?” Natasha asked

“Yes.”

“Together together?” she asked again, her voice rising in inflection.

“A couple. Yes.”

“He's a child.”

“He's seventeen. Which is, as he likes to remind everyone, the age of consent in New York state. He’s happy. Both of them are. Deliriously. Noisily. Often. He calls you Ms. Widow.”

“No. Really?” she tried hard not to laugh.

“Yes. It's adorable.” Bucky didn’t bother to try. “You should come back,” he said after a pause.

“I'm a criminal.”

“So was I. Tony can take care of that.”

“Tony's the one who made me a criminal,” Nat said pointedly.

“It's more complicated than that and you know it.”

“I'm not agreeing to house arrest.”

“Lang isn't an Avenger. You are. I am.”

“You are?”

“Part of the arrangement Tony made,” Bucky explained. “Instead of another session with Everett Ross, Fury’s handling my debrief. For that, I had to agree to the Avenger Initiative.”

“Did you want to?”

“There are worse things.” Over the phone, Natasha couldn’t see his shrug. “It’s a chance at a little redemption.”

“I thought SHIELD was mine.”

“From what Tony tells me, SHIELD isn’t what it used to be. HYDRA’s been purged.”

“You believe that?”

“No. But I can help them make sure it is.”

“We’ve been away almost two years.”

“I thought it fell apart because of me. It was the Accords. Tony’s right on this one. It’s been such a waste of time. Running. For what? Steve’s ego?”

“I told the same thing to Tony. It was his ego.”

“I’ve yet to see it show up, Natasha. No worse than anyone else’s. Steve’s wrong.”

“What about Wanda? There was the issue of her not being a citizen.”

“When did you become a citizen? It’s not an issue. Not if she signs.”

There was a long pause. “He’ll be on his own.”

“He’ll come to his senses then,” Bucky said with more heat than he’d intended. “He won’t as long as he has someone to follow the righteous Captain America into battle. The issue if he comes back isn’t the Accords. It’s the damage he did after. Tony says he’ll leave when he returns.”

“And you say you haven’t seen his ego?”

“I’ve seen the pain that Steve’s lies about me caused. The Accords? Steve signs and that’s over for Tony. What happened in Siberia? That’s a broken trust. Harder to set aside.”

“He set it aside for you, apparently.”

“I had no choice in what I did. Steve had a choice.” He paused. “I doubt Tony will walk away, no matter what he says. He won’t trust Steve. But there are very few people who Tony trusts. He works with the others anyway. He’ll reach a peace with Steve, if Steve will let him.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Nat said.

“Talk to the others before Steve. If he knows, he’ll start one of his ‘rally the troops’ speeches and everyone will follow him into hell. On their own, the only hold out will be Sam. He’s starstruck.” Bucky paused. “I’ve seen it before,” he said sadly.

[kmomof4]

Christmas Miracles for Storybrooke Ch. 4 The Date

We’re back, y’all!! I’m so excited about this chapter and hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! We have some very sweet and romantic moments for our favorite couple and a couple of new faces in this chapter! Thank you for all the support y’all have given this little fic of mine! I’d love to know what you think!

All the love and Christmas hugs to @jrob64​ for her betaing eyes, @snowbellewells​ for helping me plot this fic last summer, @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for her help with all my questions about Catholicism, and @motherkatereloyshipper​ for her manips of Emma, Killian, Mother Superior, Ruby, and Will I used in the artwork. All of these ladies were also invaluable for their love and support as I worked on this! Thank you all so much, ladies!

Summary: Dr. Killian Jones has returned home to set up his medical practice where he is warmly greeted by the townsfolk, including a group of nuns who'd cared for him for a time when he was a boy and that he'd helped build a chapel for when he was in high school. When Killian discovers that in the last few years the sisters had taken in several children and teens, he agrees to build them a kindergarten so CPS won't separate this found family at the end of the year. Will he be able to get it built in time? And what about Emma Swan, the pregnant teen he just hired as a triage nurse? What about these feelings he's developing for her? Christmas is the season for miracles and Storybrooke may be in for a few of them.

Rating: T for mention of rape

Words: 4800 of 23,340

Tags: Inspired by Christmas Lilies of the Field, Mentions of Rape

On ao3 From the beginning/ Current chapter

On Tumblr Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​ @jrob64​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @zaharadessert​ @elizabeethan​ @goforlaunchcee​ @gingerpolyglot​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @veryverynotgoodwrites​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @deckerstarblanche​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @batana54​ @purplehawkcaptain​ @k-leemac​ @motherkatereloyshipper​ @apiratewhopines​ @killiansqueenofthejollyroger​ @onceuponahookandswan​ @meat-pie-with-sauce​ @cosette141​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @xarandomdreamx​ @fleurdepetite​ @hookmecaptain​ @o-wild-west-wind​

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ruby smiled at her friend in the mirror as she ran the brush through Emma’s long blonde hair. Emma’s eyes were far away, her cheeks tinted a dusty pink, and a soft smile on her lips. Knowing everything her friend had been through all her life, and especially the last few months, it made Ruby happy to see her so happy. She gathered Emma’s hair into a high ponytail and pulled out the curling iron.

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” she asked.

Emma came back to herself and blushed harder, her smile widening even as she tried to hide it.

“No, he said he wanted it to be a surprise, but to dress nice.” She looked out the window at the late afternoon sun, before meeting Ruby’s gaze in the mirror. “I’m excited, Ruby.” She bit her lower lip with her admission.

“I’m excited for you,” she assured her friend. “He’s a great guy and you’re gonna have a great time. Just don’t get too carried away,” she said with a wink. “Mother is expecting you home early tonight.”

“I know.” She stood from where she was sitting in front of the bathroom mirror and spun, the flowing skirt of the dress she wore flaring out a bit, showing off her legs. “How do I look?” She looked down at herself before meeting Ruby’s eyes again.

“You look beautiful. You’re gonna knock his socks off, Emma,” Ruby assured her, standing back to admire her work. At that moment, a knock sounded at the front door and Ruby crowed, “Right on time!” She grabbed Emma’s elbow and dragged her into the common room where all the sisters and the children just happened to be standing about.

Mother and the other sisters all sported wide smiles, while the children were fairly vibrating with excitement. Especially Roland and Alice. Alice still hadn’t spoken, but she couldn’t hide the glee in her eyes whenever Roland had teased Emma about being caught kissing Killian the night of her birthday. The only person in the room not smiling was Will. Emma’s smile fell just a bit when she saw him before answering the door.

She opened the door and her jaw dropped when she saw Killian. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. No one had ever made this kind of effort for her and she was momentarily speechless.

Killian’s eyes widened in amazement when Emma opened the door. His gaze drifted from her face down her body and back up again, just soaking in the beauty of this young woman who’d agreed to go out with him. She wore a lovely pink dress with an empire waist that draped over the child she carried before flowing down to just past her knees. The necklace he’d given her for her birthday hung just above the bodice of the dress. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with just a few soft tendrils framing her face that had no need of makeup, but the blush on her cheeks and the way she was biting her bottom lip nervously made her look absolutely adorable. His mouth was dry and he had to swallow hard before he could speak.

“You look stunning, Emma,” he breathed as he held out the single rose he’d bought for her. She took it from him with a soft smile that took his breath away and held it to her nose. “I’m so glad you like the necklace,” he said, nodding toward it.

Her smile widened even further. “Thank you, Killian. I wanted to wear it for our first date. I thought you’d like that.” She held the door open wider. “Won’t you come in for a moment while I put this in water?”

“Thank you,” he said, following her in. He looked around the room and couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks when confronted with all the residents of the mission, all smiling widely. All except Will, who stepped forward as Killian scratched behind his ear in nervousness.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” Will said, placing his hand on Killian’s shoulder and shooting a look at Mother Superior. Killian relaxed and smiled, realizing exactly what was going on when Mother nodded at the two of them. “I don’t have to tell you that Emma’s like a sister to me, and I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect.”

“Of course you don’t, Will,” Killian acknowledged. “And you have my word.”

“Good.” Will winked good naturedly at him. “If you touch her, I might have to cut off your hand.”

“Then we’d have to call you Captain Hook, Dr. Killian!” cried Roland with a loud laugh.

“Will!” Emma exclaimed, coming back in the room.

“It’s fine, Emma,” Killian assured her. “I would expect nothing less.” He helped her into the light sweater she carried, then held out his arm to her. “Shall we, milady?”

Emma looped her arm through his and smiled as he patted her hand affectionately. “We shall,” she replied. He escorted them out the door and down the front path of the mission to where his classic SS Chevelle was parked. He opened the passenger door for her and waited until she was settled in her seat before closing it. Emma was positively giddy with excitement to be going out on a date with Killian, and the way he was treating her- like a lady, as if she was precious- was more than anyone in her entire life had ever treated her. It was enough to make her swoon.

It was only a short drive to the small Italian restaurant in the heart of their “downtown.” The owner was one of the parishioners of the mission chapel and when Marco saw Killian and Emma come in the door of his establishment, a grin split his face the likes of which she’d never seen on the man. Granted, he was a very sweet man who always had a smile on his face, but this one was different. She cut her eyes toward Killian who stood to her side, his hand just touching the small of her back and noticed his reddened cheeks and the way he scratched behind his ear.

“You didn’t tell me Emma was your date tonight, Killian,” he exclaimed. Emma could feel the blush rising on her cheeks as she looked at Killian again.

“When I made the reservation for dinner,” he explained. A lump rose in Emma’s throat at the thought that he had taken such care of every aspect of the evening. She leaned in and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He faced her and looked into her eyes. Emma could barely breathe.

“Of course, I did,” he asserted. “I wanted every part of this evening to be perfect. I wanted you to feel special.” He reached up and trailed his knuckles down her cheek as he spoke.

“I do, Killian,” she assured him before turning back to their host.

“Right this way, please.” Marco led them to a corner table near the large picture window. “Our special tonight is our Crab Alfredo, made with Snow crab.” Emma looked over at Killian. She’d heard that it wasn’t safe for pregnant women to eat some types of seafood.

Killian nodded his head in answer to her unspoken question. “Snow crab is fine, Emma,” he assured her.

“What may I bring you to drink?” Marco asked. “Our homemade lemonade would pair nicely with the Crab Alfredo.”

Killian looked at her, eyebrows raised. Emma smiled and nodded at Marco. “That would be lovely, Marco. Thank you.”

As soon as Marco withdrew with their drink orders, Killian reached across the table and took Emma’s hands in his own. “I hope you enjoy this evening, Emma.” She smiled at the simple sincerity of the words.

“As long as I’m with you, I know I will.”

As they waited for their drinks and then their orders, they conversed easily about interests and hobbies they both had. Killian told her about restoring the car he drove when he was in high school and Emma told him about her disastrous attempts to learn to knit under Sister Mercy’s tutelage. Once their meals arrived, conversation ranged from favorite books and movies and then to what she’d found out about nursing schools in the state. The University of Charleston had an associate degree of nursing program that would only take her sixteen months to complete.

Emma swirled her breadstick in the leftover sauce from her alfredo before savoring the last bite she’d be able to eat.

“This was too good, Killian,” she said, rubbing the top of her belly. “But there is no way I can possibly eat another bite. Ugh! I really wanted some tiramisu.” Her eyes widened as Killian motioned Marco back over.

“May we have an order of tiramisu to go?”

“Of course you can, my boy. Mustn’t deprive the little bambino,” he said, winking at Emma. Her cheeks heated and she couldn’t suppress her smile. It was only a few minutes more before he arrived back at their table with the wrapped dessert. Killian asked for the bill and Marco just waved him off.

“Tonight’s meal is gratis in appreciation for including my humble establishment in the beginning of a beautiful relationship.” Emma and Killian jaws both dropped in surprise.

“No, my friend,” Killian insisted. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything,” Marco admonished him. “This is my choice.” Killian shot him a skeptical look.

“Alright, fine,” he allowed, “but this is my choice.” He pulled two $20 bills out of his wallet and handed them to the old man. “For you and for your most excellent wait staff.” Killian turned to Emma and held his hand out to help her to her feet.

“Thank you so much, Marco,” she said. “This was a lovely meal.”

“You’re so welcome, my dear. I’m glad you enjoyed your time here. I’ll see you both next Sunday, if not before.” Killian escorted Emma out and got her settled in the car before turning to her again.

“I had one other thing planned for this evening, if you’re amenable, Emma.”

Emma smiled. “Sure.” She settled back into her seat as Killian pulled away from the restaurant. It was only about five minutes later that they crossed the town line and Killian was winding his way up the side of a mountain. The sun hadn’t set yet, and Emma caught her breath at the drop off on the side of the road.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” Killian reassured her. “I learned to drive on these roads. We’ll get where we’re going safely and home as well.”

Emma smiled and relaxed against the seat, rubbing her belly. The baby usually got active after she ate, and tonight was no exception. It looked like a wave crossed her belly as her child clearly changed position inside her. She poked back at the hard protrusion that could only be a tiny fist or foot with a giggle, catching Killian’s attention. He brought the car to a stop and Emma looked at him before turning to look out the front windshield. She caught her breath.

They were on a high bluff outside of town, with a clear view of the sun setting over the trees below. She took Killian’s hand in a daze, her eyes never leaving the horizon, completely unaware as he let go of her hand after a light squeeze and got out of the car to come around to her side. She took his hand and rose from her seat, her jaw slack at the beauty in front of her. She stood in awe as Killian released her hand again and disappeared. He was back a moment later with a soft blanket he spread out for them to sit on.

Emma finally tore her eyes away from the horizon and looked at Killian. He held his hand out toward her again and she took it as she lowered herself, rather awkwardly in her opinion, to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he apologized. “I should have brought chairs for us.”

“It’s alright, Killian.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands, looking up at him before patting the ground next to her. “This is fine, I promise.” He settled down next to her, not quite close enough to touch, and turned to the horizon as well.

“When I was growing up, I liked to come here to think, just be by myself for a while.” She turned to look at him, the beautiful sunset forgotten, as he continued softly. “I always thought of this as my spot.” He turned to look at her and Emma caught her breath. His skin glowed in the light of the setting sun and the longing she saw in his too blue eyes threatened to melt her from the inside out. “But I wanted to share it with you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Killian couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. The way the setting sun shone in her golden locks took his breath away. She was still leaning back on her hands and Killian couldn’t resist touching the softness of her skin. She hadn’t put her sweater back on after dinner, so he ran his hand down her bare arm, which erupted in goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” he asked, removing his jacket. The sun was gone now, the sky above the horizon ablaze with the red, pink, and gold melting into indigo and dark blue the further up you looked.

“Just a little,” she said, sitting up and letting him place his jacket around her shoulders. She turned back to him and he was completely taken in by the open vulnerability and longing he saw in her eyes. The fingers along the side of his face were gentle, her touch nearly stealing his breath. Her eyes bounced back and forth between his as she moved closer to him. He reached out for her, praying desperately that he wasn’t misinterpreting her signals, and lowered his lips to hers.

Her hand tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck and Killian let out a soft groan as his tongue touched her lips. She opened for him on a sigh and he lost himself in the flavor of her mouth. Killian reached up and cupped her chin in his hand as their mouths moved together softly. Finally, he pulled back and touched her forehead with his own.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” she breathed, looking into his eyes again. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Killian.”

“I haven’t either, Emma,” he said before kissing her again. She took command this time and Killian’s heart sang with joy as their tongues tangled and danced. He couldn’t let this go too far, so with the greatest reluctance, he pulled away. Emma’s eyes were still mostly shut as she chased his lips.

“As much as I’d like to continue this, I have to get you back to the mission, Emma,” he explained. “We have a long week ahead of us.” Her face fell slightly and Killian could only hope it meant she was as disappointed as he was that they had to stop.

“I know,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She shot him a sultry, amused smirk that he couldn’t help return as he rose and held his hand out for her to take. He helped her get to her feet and gave her another sweet kiss.

“Same, darling,” he assured her. “But we can do this again.” He stared into her eyes, a sudden vulnerability showing in their azure depths that she couldn’t help but respond to. “Will you go out with me again?”

Emma smiled and looped her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ll go out with you again, Killian.”

“Thank God,” he said, capturing her lips one more time.

~*~*~

The next week flew by, and before he knew it, Killian was welcoming his brother to his home.

“Liam!” he cried, throwing open the front door and embracing his older brother. He hadn’t seen him since late July, the week before he arrived in Storybrooke when he’d built in a few days of down time between leaving the hospital in Morgantown and preparing to open his practice here.

“Killian! It’s so good to see you.” Liam pulled back and looked him over with a critical eye. “It does not look like you’re getting enough sleep, little brother.”

Killian rolled his eyes and pushed his brother away good naturedly. “I’m a doctor, brother. Plus working on the kindergarten by myself is taking its toll. And it’s younger brother,” he reminded him. He grabbed Liam’s suitcase and carried it to his guest bedroom. “Glad you got here safe. The sisters are expecting us, so we gotta go.” He grabbed his brother’s arm and nearly hauled him out of the house to where his car was parked in the driveway.

A few minutes later they arrived at the mission. The children poured out the front door, eager to greet the newcomer. But not before swarming Killian for hugs.

“Everyone,” he said, after introducing all the children, still holding little Alice on his hip, “this is my older brother Liam. He’s here to help me get the kindergarten built. He and I built the chapel when I was in high school.” Alice’s eyes widened almost comically and Killian nodded solemnly at the girl. “Yes. We did. Liam wanted to own his own construction company someday, so he approached Mother Superior about building the chapel. And I got to help him.” He put the little girl down in front of Liam. She looked up at the giant man in front of her. He knelt down in front of her and held out his hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Alice.”

Killian felt his heart melt as Alice held out her hand for Liam to shake. Once he stood on his feet once more, Killian introduced the teens to him.

“Liam, this is my nurse, Emma,” he said, with an affectionate glance at her. At her soft smile, he continued. “And my, uh… we’re, uh… seeing each other… dating,” he stammered, his ears turning red.

Liam grinned at his embarrassment. “Oh, really? It’s lovely to meet you, Emma,” he said, taking her hand in both of his own. “Killian told me you were working for him and that you’re interested in going to nursing school?”

Emma took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes.” She cut her eyes toward Killian before speaking again. “It’s thanks to him and everyone here that I’m pursuing that career path. I’ve never had anyone believe in me like that before.” She blushed as she finished, wondering if she’d said too much.

“We have every reason to believe in you, Emma,” Killian said, kissing her on the cheek. “And you’re going to be a fantastic nurse someday.”

Mother Superior and the other sisters came forward then, embracing Liam warmly and welcoming him home.

“It’s so good to see you again, Liam,” exclaimed Astrid. She cut her eyes to Killian then continued. “This guy needs all the help he can get.” Everyone laughed and then sat down to the excellent meal the sisters had prepared.

Once the meal was finished, they all went outside to where the kindergarten was being built. Liam looked around at the site and Killian pulled out the blueprints he’d drawn, showing Liam what all had already been done.

Liam stuck his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his feet as he considered the project in front of him.

“The crew will be here Monday and as long as the weather cooperates, we shouldn’t have any problem getting this thing finished before Christmas.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” exclaimed Will, with a clap. “That social worker lady can suck it! I told you I wasn’t going anywhere without a fight!”

“William Scarlet,” Mother Superior scolded. He at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed at her displeasure. “You know we don’t tolerate that kind of language here.”

“Sorry, Mother.”

Everyone turned when they heard footsteps on the gravel behind them. Killian didn’t recognize the blonde woman coming toward them, but he also didn’t miss the way Liam’s jaw dropped when his eyes landed on her. She was tall and petite, her long white blonde hair twisted into an elaborate braid that rested over her shoulder. She wore jeans and a blue flannel shirt that brought out the blue of her eyes. Killian couldn’t hide his smirk at Liam’s response.

Mother Superior moved toward the woman, shaking her hand before bringing her toward everyone else. Killian looked around at the kids. Every single smile among them had disappeared and he suddenly had an idea of who the woman might be.

“Killian, Liam?” Mother asked, “This is Elsa Arendelle, the social worker from CPS. Elsa, this is Killian and Liam Jones. They’ll be working on the kindergarten.”

Elsa’s eyebrows rose to her hairline as she took in the brothers, holding her hand out to shake. “Oh, really?” she asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Killian took her hand and shook it. “Yes, really,” he informed her. He cut his eyes over to Liam, who still gaped at the woman like a fish out of water.

“Do you have enough time to get it finished?” she asked as Liam finally recovered himself enough to shake her hand.

“As long, ah, as long as the weather cooperates,” Liam said, “yes, we should be able to finish it.”

Elsa’s eyes softened as she looked at them. “I hope you do.” Elsa loved her job, but the clear love between all the residents of the mission was making this a very difficult assignment. Not to mention the fact that she was still having trouble finding homes for Alice and the teens. She turned to Mother Superior. “I just wanted to see if there’d been any progress made on the building and to let you know that I have homes for everyone except Alice, Ashley, Sean, and Will.” She cut her eyes over to where the kids were being herded inside by the teenagers, far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to overhear what was being said. “Will’s criminal background, Ashley’s pregnancy, and Alice not speaking is making things difficult.”

“Speaking of Ashley,” Mother Superior interrupted, “The child abandonment law.”

“Molly’s Law?” Elsa clarified with a nod.

“Yes, Ashley and Sean were both turned out by their parents. Thrown out of their own homes. Would that qualify as child abandonment for the purposes of me claiming guardianship over them to consent to their underage marriage?”

“How old are they again?” she asked.

“Sean just turned seventeen earlier this month, and Ashley will be seventeen in February,” Mother Superior informed her.

Elsa’s brows nearly hit her hairline again before a look of disbelief and wonder overtook her countenance as she nodded. “Yes, it would. That is a brilliant idea, Mother!”

Mother Superior turned to where the children had gone back inside the house. “It was Will’s idea. He’s interested in the law when he graduates high school. He came to me with the information about a month ago, but I hadn’t had a chance to come talk to you about it.”

“I’m so glad he did,” she exclaimed. “Yes, that will work, and that would take care of them as far as CPS is concerned. We’d no longer have jurisdiction over them if they were married.”

Mother Superior blew out a breath and shut her eyes briefly in relief. “Praise God.”

“I’ve been working on the kindergarten by myself for the last two months,” Killian interjected, changing the subject, “but Liam here owns his own construction company in Arlington and is taking over as project manager to get this thing built by the end of the year.”

Elsa blushed when her eyes landed on Liam. “By law, I have to take the children on January 1 if the kindergarten is not finished and fully inspected by the state.” She cut her eyes over to the construction site. “You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.” She held out her hand to Liam, her face wholly serious as they shook hands. “I wish you luck.”

~*~*~

Construction on the kindergarten was coming along nicely and Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching. Under Liam’s leadership, Killian was able to step back and concentrate on his practice, helping out at the site on the weekends. The main school room was constructed and the dormitory wings were both framed up, with the exterior walls just about finished and the glass for the windows waiting in the wings.

The Tuesday before the greatly anticipated holiday, traffic at Killian’s practice progressed normally. Emma went out to the waiting room and called for Killian’s next patient. Looking out the front window, she noticed how dark it was. She checked the time on her phone and was surprised to see that it was only a little after two. Her brow furrowed nervously as she showed the elderly woman to an examination room. When she left the room a few minutes later, she ran into Killian.

“Everything alright, Emma?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine in there.” She looked out toward the lobby. “Did you see how dark it was outside? I can’t help but feel just a little nervous.”

Killian followed her gaze, his own brow furrowing in concern. “Why don’t you check the weather app? See if we’re under any watches or warnings.”

She found him again a few minutes later after checking the weather. “We’re under a severe thunderstorm watch and they’re saying there may be damaging winds and hail.”

Killian put his hand on her shoulder in comfort. “We’re well protected here, Emma. With all the businesses on either side of us, we probably won’t even lose power.”

Emma nodded, but couldn’t help worrying about the worksite, the mission, and the people on it.

~*~*~

At the mission, Liam was keeping an eye on the sky. So far, the wind had picked up, but it hadn’t started raining, so he was reluctant to stop the work going on. Suddenly, Mother Superior ran out of the house toward the kindergarten, waving her hands to get his attention.

“What is it, Mother?”

“We’re under a severe thunderstorm watch. They’re saying we could have damaging winds and hail. It’s not safe for y’all out here. You need to come inside a finished building,” she said, looking around the construction site nervously.

Liam turned and moved toward the kindergarten, his long stride bringing him to the front door in moments. Calling out to his men, they all dropped what they were doing and followed him toward the main house of the compound. Before they got there, they could hear a loud whistling that seemed to come from all around them. The winds suddenly doubled in strength and a sound like a freight train filled their ears. Liam could see Mother Superior holding the back door to the house open for them, waving frantically for them to hurry. He hollered for them all to make a run for it and they did, the door slamming shut behind them as soon as they were all safely inside.

From the common room where everyone was gathered, huddling under the tables for protection from the furious winds, they could see debris flying around outside the kitchen windows. Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen as something shattered the large window over the sink. Liam could hear the screams of the children at the other end of the long table he’d taken shelter under and crawled out from under it to move toward the frightened little ones. He came to Alice and Roland, who both clung to Ruby, all of their eyes wide and terrified. He crawled back under the table, his back to the main room, and took the three of them in his arms, shielding them from the open room with his bulk. He took a deep breath and sent up a prayer that the damage to the kindergarten would be minimal.

It seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, before the winds died down enough that it felt safe enough to emerge from their makeshift shelter. The kitchen was a disaster- a large construction beam lodged in the shattered window, glass littering the floor, and the small appliances that were normally at home on the countertops tossed around willy-nilly. He looked out the window and let out a dismayed sigh as he reached for his phone.

“Liam?” Killian asked, not even saying hello when he answered, but plunging right in to the question foremost in his mind. “Is everyone alright out there? We heard the winds.”

Liam sighed again. “Brother, meeting the New Year's deadline just got a lot harder…”

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Final chapter on Christmas Eve!

[wistfulcynic]

The Very Witching Time (5 / 6)

SO I would like to begin by sharing a snippet of conversation I had with @thisonesatellite when I first told her my plans for this fic. I don’t remember all the details but here’s the gist: 

Me: *tells* 

Me: “It’ll be four chapters, about 20,000 words.” 

Her: “It’s so cute that you think you can write that in 20,000 words.” 

Me: “20k. Max.”

HAHAHAHAHAHA so obviously I WAS WRONG. I tragically underestimated the number of words I would need to tell this story. So now there are six chapters. AND THAT WILL BE ALL. 

Ahem. ANYWAY. 

In this chapter Emma and Killian deal with the aftermath of the curse breaking, there is some bonding and some sexy times and a library that will make you DROOL. 

Thanks as always to @cssns for the brilliant event and @gingerchangeling for the gorgeous art. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.  

RATING: M

AO3 | Tumblr: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4

TAGGING: @thisonesatellite, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @jennjenn615, @resident-of-storybrooke, @teamhook, @thejollyroger-writer, @winterbaby89, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd @shireness-says @scientificapricot @tiganasummertree

(if you’d like a tag, please let me know!)

Chapter 5: 

Emma was never quite certain how she got home that morning. A soft haze obscured her recollections of the journey, like the delicate lace of frost on a winter windowpane or a particularly tedious Instagram filter. On top of the woozy exhaustion that always plagued her after intense magic use there was also the discovery of Killian’s true nature, the visions with their troubling revelations about Cora and his past, plus breaking a freaking curse, and if that weren’t already more than enough to make her head spin, that kiss… the soft, wet warmth of Killian’s mouth on hers would render her dizzy and faint even if she hadn’t channeled immense amounts of magic mere hours before. 

It is therefore, as you will surely agree, unsurprising that all she could ever remember of making her way back to her house was the radiant sunshine dappled by late autumn leaves, the sharp bite of frost the air, and Killian’s hand warm in her own, his arm around her shoulders and his body solid and reassuring as she leaned against him, her head tucked against his shoulder, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin. 

He guided her straight upstairs to her bedroom, helping her out of her wrinkled and leaf-strewn gown and into her pajamas before tucking her under her quilt. His fingers traced her cheek with the gentlest touch and she caught his hand, sensing his intent. 

“Don’t go,” she murmured. “Stay with me.” 

“Are you sure, love?” 

Such a simple phrase but she could hear every shade of meaning in the tone of his voice, Emma marvelled. The desire not to leave her warring with hesitation, uncertainty over what exactly his place was in her life now that he no longer wore the guise of a dog. She understood, and she knew there were important conversations they needed to have, but also she was desperate for sleep and certain she wouldn’t manage a wink without him there beside her. She squeezed his hand. “Stay.” 

He smiled and nodded and removed his own rumpled shirt and trousers before sliding into bed behind her, snuggling close and wrapping her securely in his arms. Emma sighed and was asleep in an instant. 

She awoke in the late afternoon just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, its bending rays bathing the sky in fiery blaze orange and softer coral, shot with streaks of heliotrope and brilliant rose. Only a sunset could make those colours go together, she thought with a smile, but in it they were breathtaking. 

Killian was still behind her, the protective curl of his body around hers so achingly familiar despite his altered form. From the cadence of his breathing she knew he was awake, though his only movement was his fingers twisting absently through the ends of her hair.

She turned in his arms and was met by his smile, brighter and more brilliant than any sunset, flooding her racing heart with a wave of warmth and sparks born of a different sort of magic. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Better.” She smiled back at him. “Good. Wonderful, in fact. Starving.” 

He laughed. “Shall we have some dinner?” He moved to slide from the bed, halting on a sharp inhale when she laid her hand flat against his bare chest. 

“I’m not just hungry for food, Killian,” she said. The tingle in her blood was making her dizzy again but the day of restful sleep had restored her strength and she was buzzing and energised and ravenous. 

He caught her meaning instantly and his eyes widened, glazing with answering hunger and heat and a trace of doubt. “Are you—” 

“Don’t ask me if I’m sure,” she cut him off. “I am, completely. I’m still not certain how we broke your curse or shared my magic or what any of this is or what it means, but I know that I’ve never felt anything like this connection between us and I really, really want to make it physical. I need to. Is that okay?”

“You will definitely not hear any argument from me, love.” 

He gave her another of his impossibly familiar grins and she took a moment to marvel at just how much of the man had been present in the dog without her even noticing and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

In common with many witches Emma’s beliefs, in the abstract, were very open about sex. Far from being considered sinful it was seen as a natural and integral part of life, elemental as water and air, earth and fire. 

In the abstract. Practically speaking Emma was a shopkeeper in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and people talked. Where the local witch taking up with anyone would be a point of extreme interest to far too many people and there would be expectations and pressure and questions, and all things considered Emma had always found that celibacy was simply easier. 

Meaning it had been some considerable time since she’d been touched. And she had never, never used her magic during sex. 

Yet when Killian’s mouth opened under hers and his hand caressed her bare skin she found herself overcome, helpless against the rush of power that thrummed through her. Not her power, though. His. 

“How…” she gasped when they broke apart for air, unable to form any more complex words but certain he would understand. 

He did. “It’s in my hand, I think,” he said. “The magic that healed it. There was so much of it and not all got used. It’s— part of me now.” He stroked her cheek with his left hand and she could feel the vibrations of the magic it held. “And what’s part of me is part of you,” he whispered. “That’s how you feel it too. I think.” 

She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. It’s— I mean, it shouldn’t—” 

“Emma.” His hand slid from her cheek to her hair, his eyes soft and amused and desperate. “I’m sure there’s a fascinating explanation but right now I do not care. Do you?” 

“No.” She pulled him back down to her, surrendering completely to the energy that sparked wherever their skin met, and the intensely arousing sensation of someone else’s magic flowing through her. 

Why the fuck not? she thought. Nothing about Killian had ever been what she expected, why should sex with him be any different? 

He took the lead and she let him, another new departure for her, let him slip the clothing from her body with an infuriating lack of haste as his hands and mouth unerringly sought out every spot that yearned for their touch, heightening her pleasure layer upon layer, higher and higher, impossibly high, until she was sobbing and clawing at him and prepared to beg. 

And when he finally —finally— slid inside her, joining their bodies in tandem with their hearts, the magic was an inferno, consuming them as they clung to each other, as they moved together in a rhythm both ancient and uniquely their own until the waves of magic turned to ecstasy and they fell apart, in pieces and more whole than they had ever been. 

Emma had no idea how long they lay together, entwined and still joined, but by the time she felt capable of thought and movement the last rays of the sun had faded and the light through her bedroom window was the glow of the pale moon above the treetops. 

“Gods, I’m starving,” she said. 

“Again? Give a man a chance to recover, love, after you wring him dry like an old flannel.”

She laughed. “This time I’m talking about food.” 

“Well thank fuck for that. I could definitely do with some nourishment.”

~~ 🌕 ~~

They raided the kitchen and feasted on whatever they could find that required no cooking: roasted corn and squash left over from the Samhain bonfire that seemed so much more than just a day ago, bread spread thick with butter and honey or generous slices of cheese, apples and slightly stale soul cakes and very hot tea. 

Emma was so hungry she’d have eaten anything and cared little for the taste but it was all delicious, spiced by the magic still sparking in the air and the pleasure of eating with Killian, properly this time, with him sitting next to her at the table rather than under it. 

“So,” said Emma, once the most demanding of their hunger pangs were quieted. “It feels really weird asking you this, after… well, after everything, but your last name is Jones, right? I remember from the vision.” 

“It is.”

Emma’s brow creased as she tried to kick her sluggish brain into gear. “Killian Jones,” she mused. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“I’ve no idea. I spent most of my life on the sea or in England, though I have lived in Boston for the past few years—” 

“Boston,” she interrupted, as faint bells began to chime in her memory. “Harvard University Press. Was it a book cover? Did you write a book?”

“Aye.” 

A very inelegant snort of laughter burst from her.  

“What?” Killian grinned at her mirth but his eyes were puzzled. 

“Sorry.” She held up her hand as another wave of giggles overcame her. “Sorry. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear you say that without remembering how you used to bark it.” She laughed again and this time he joined her, blue eyes twinkling. 

“You might want to get over that,” he teased. “I say ‘aye’ rather a lot. It’s a navy thing.” 

“I’ll do my best.” She wiped her eyes and breathed deeply to stifle the giggles. “Anyway, you were saying you wrote a book.”  

“Ay— er, yes, I did. A history of the traditions of witchcraft from England to North America.” 

“That’s it!” She snapped her fingers triumphantly as the pieces fell into place, then waved her hand in a circular motion ending with it palm up in front of her.  Nothing happened. She frowned and waved it again, with more of a flourish this time but the same lack of result. Killian watched her curiously as she stared dumbfounded at her empty hand then rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m an idiot,” she said. “I forgot I’m so low on magic. It’s practically zinging through the air but none of it is the kind I can use. It’s a weird feeling. Anyway, I was trying to summon your book from my library but it looks like that’s not happening so I guess we’ll just have to get it the mundane way.” She looked at him, mischief glinting in her eye. “You’re a history professor, right?” 

“Ay— I am.” 

She grinned. “You’re going to love this.” 

Grabbing his hand she pulled him up from the table and along behind her out of the kitchen and through the living room to a door that he had never seen opened for the whole of the time he had lived in her house. Emma opened it and guided him up a narrow and winding set of worn stone stairs, her movements quick and certain despite the darkness. 

“Sorry there’s no light,” she said. “I’d put some on, but, you know, no magic.” 

“It’s okay—” began Killian and then they arrived at the top of the stairs and the words died in his throat as his mouth fell open and his eyes widened and he gaped with an expression of mute stupefaction that he would have known was comical even if Emma hadn’t burst out laughing at the sight of it. 

“Pretty great, huh?” she said. 

Killian had been in many extraordinary libraries in his time, from the stately magnificence of the Bodleian at Oxford to the hushed gravity of the Reading Room at the British Museum, from the sprawling glory of the New York Public Library to the actual Vatican Archives, where he hadn’t even been able to enjoy himself for fear of breathing improperly and getting kicked out. 

But none of them had prepared him for Emma’s library. 

Every inch of the walls was lined with carved wooden shelves, precisely fitted to the graceful curves of the circular room and broken only by the door they’d used to enter and another on the other side, and randomly placed windows of varying sizes and shapes through which pearly moonlight slanted, illuminating the round and sturdy oak table at the centre of the room and the rows upon rows upon rows upon rows of books. These rows curved around and around in the endless arc of a helix, twisting up much farther than his eye could see to the very top of the sharply pointed tower. 

Killian swallowed hard and with immense effort found his voice. “Why did we never come in here before?” he croaked. 

Emma shrugged. “I usually just summon the books I need. It’s kind of a pain to dig through them by hand so I came up with a spell that sorts them based on the criteria I give it.” 

Killian turned his astonished gaze on her. “You have a librarian spell?”  

“Yeah.” Emma frowned at him as he began to laugh. “Why is that funny?”

He shook his head. “It’s just my friend Belle would not be happy if she knew that was a thing. You could put her out of a job.” He looked around again, struggling to grasp the extent of her collection. There must be thousands of books, he thought. Hundreds of thousands. “You really have my book in here?” he asked her, ridiculously flattered at the idea. 

“Yep.” The room shifted with no apparent motion and a tall, rectangular window that Killian felt certain had been a good ten feet above their heads moments before was right where they stood. Emma pulled a book from the shelf beside it. “Here it is.” She held the book up in the shaft of moonlight from the window so he could see its familiar cover. “I enjoyed it.” 

“You read it?”

“Of course. I read everything written about witchcraft. It’s important to know what’s going on in people’s minds. Your book was better than most, though of course there’s a lot missing.” 

“Missing?” 

“Uh huh. Oh, don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” she hurried to add when she caught his disgruntled look. “Most of the stuff you left out I’d’ve been worried if you’d included. We keep it hidden for a reason.” 

“That… makes a lot of sense, actually,” acknowledged Killian, somewhat mollified. 

“Mmmm,” agreed Emma. “Um. Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” 

“What made you want to study the history of witchcraft?”

His expression shifted and he gave her an odd look, wondering and tinged with awe. “You did,” he said softly.  

“Me?” 

“Aye. I didn’t know it was you at the time, of course. I just wanted to find out more about the witch Cora was looking for.” 

“But why was she looking for a witch?” asked Emma, voicing the question that had been niggling at her for some time. “For me, I guess?”

Killian blew out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Now that is a tale,” he said. “Do you mind if we sit, love, and I’ll tell you all I know?”

“Sure.” Emma returned his book to her shelf and they sat together at the table, in large and ornately carved chairs that were far more comfortable than they looked. 

Killian took her hand in his, absently, caressing her knuckles with his thumb as he began his tale. “Cora has practiced witchcraft all her life, taught by her mother as I believe most witches are,” he said, looking to Emma for confirmation. She nodded, and he went on. “She was always fascinated by the High Magic and by the stories of ancient witches who had great power, and she spent quite a lot of time studying those things. During the course of her studies she found a prophecy—” Emma made a disgusted noise “— just fragments of it but it enthralled her to the point of obsession, and from then on she pursued it single-mindedly. Over the years she pieced together more and more of it until she believed what she had was nearly complete.” 

“And what exactly was in this prophecy?” spat Emma. 

Killian looked startled at her tone but replied easily. “It speaks of a day when dark magic would be driven from this world for good. Of a witch descended from centuries of those who did not have to hide their gifts, with distilled power of her ancestors who would seal the breach. It... speaks also of that witch’s true love, whose aid she would require to complete the task. A man who could be her saving or her undoing.” He lowered his eyes, the flush on his cheekbones obvious even in the moonlight. When Emma remained silent he looked up to see her staring at him in disbelief and building fury, and his embarrassment became consternation. 

“What is it?” he asked.  

“That’s what this has all been about?” she hissed. “Nearly tearing open the barrier, nearly killing you? All because of that old thing?”

Killian frowned. “What old thing?”

Emma pushed her chair back and stood as the room shifted again. She stomped —there was no other word for it— over to a bookshelf and grabbed a leather-bound book as large as a dinner tray and thick as a club sandwich, then stomped back to the table and dropped it in front of Killian with an echoing thud. Killian’s eyes widened as he caught the title: Viarum Finis Omnium. The end of all roads. 

“Bloody hell,” he breathed. 

Emma hefted the book open and began ruffling through its pages. “Hmmm?” she said absently. 

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Killian waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture, though she wasn’t looking at him. “It’s just when I was doing my dissertation I’d’ve given my left nut to read this book.”

“Oh.” Emma paused, frowning at the book like she couldn’t fathom why anyone might find it important. “Well, you can read it now if you’d like. But I’ve got others that are loads better.” 

“Others…” said Killian faintly as she turned another page and found what she was looking for. 

“Here it is,” she said triumphantly, it being apparently the wrinkled and faded and folded piece of parchment she snatched from the book, handling it with a casual indifference that made the historian in Killian want to cry. She snapped it unfolded with an angry flourish and held it out to him. 

“Is this the prophecy you mean?” 

He took the parchment from her gently, touching only the edges. “This is it!” he exclaimed. “This is the whole thing. But… have you always known it was about you?”

“It’s not about me.”

“What?” He looked up at her and she scowled. 

“I mean, it’s not necessarily about me. It could be about anyone in my family. It could be about no one. It could —and I’m gonna be honest, this is my take— be complete bullshit.” 

He managed not to roll his eyes. “I know you don’t think much of foretelling, love—” 

“That’s the truth.” 

“But are you sure there’s never been anything to suggest that this is about you? Cora is not nearly as clever as she thinks she is but she did devote her life to figuring out this prophecy and she did identify us both… and if you and I aren’t the witch and the man it refers to then that leaves rather a lot of odd things unexplained.” 

Emma folded her arms across her chest, her expression that of a child who won’t admit it’s bedtime. “Such as?”

“Well, there’s your garden magic,” said Killian. “For a start.” 

“What about my garden magic?”

“It recognised me. The first time I stepped into the garden the magic there knew me. It welcomed me like an old friend, and warned me that danger was coming. It told me to protect you.” 

“Hmmm,” said Emma, still scowling.  

“And your own magic, love,” continued Killian, gentle but relentless. “You shared it with me.” 

“I did do that,” Emma unfolded her arms and sighed. “Which shouldn’t be possible. Witches can link their power but to share magic with someone who has never practiced, and so easily… Well, it basically can’t be done.” 

“And yet it was done.”

“But not because of a stupid prophecy—” 

“And how can you explain my hand?” He held it up. “How did I get my whole hand back, and with added magic?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re right. There’s a lot that’s weird about all of this, though I’m just never going to believe that any of it can be explained by a prophecy. There’s gotta be more to it.” 

She took his left hand in hers, examining it closely. “Why did Cora take your hand in the first place? I’m assuming she arranged for it to be damaged.” 

“Aye, and then she amputated it with magic. I’m not certain why exactly but I imagine she was Shown something that told her you would need it, or need something I could do with it.” 

 “Shown,” echoed Emma grimly. “Which means she has the gift of sight,”

“Sight, aye,” Killian agreed, “but interestingly not perception. She found the prophecy but she couldn’t fully understand it, so she turned to her Sight for answers. Which it provided. But I’ve always suspected she misinterprets the things she Sees.”

“And that is why the Sight is next to useless,” scoffed Emma. 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact that Cora’s Sight what drives her. She asks to be Shown things and then acts decisively on what she Sees. She asked to be Shown the witch from the prophecy but her Sight couldn’t conjure you, so she asked to See the man instead. And was Shown me. This was years ago, when I had just joined the navy. It took her about two years to track me down after that.”

“The first vision,” said Emma. “She— did she really destroy your whole ship?”

“Aye,” said Killian grimly. “A few well-placed blasts of magic and the whole thing went under. It was the worst disaster in modern British naval history, and there was no logical explanation for it. And I was the only survivor.” His hand clenched into a fist on the tabletop. “It was declared an Act of God and afterwards the navy gently suggested that perhaps I wasn’t best suited to a career with them. Gave me an honourable discharge and no option of appeal.” 

“Oh, Killian.” Emma covered his fist with her hand and he unclenched it to grip her fingers tightly. “What did you do?” she asked. 

“Well, I had no family and no employment and no place to go. And a rash deal with Cora that left me in her debt, which is of course exactly where she wanted me. She came to me in what she claimed was generosity and offered me a job doing her dirty work and I thought why the fuck not? How much worse could my life get? Only it turned out that my life could get considerably worse. Cora was in search of any information she could find about the prophecy, and she, as you saw, did not hesitate to use her magic, and me, as weapons to obtain it.”

“But you stayed with her.” 

“Aye, because I felt I had no other option. Exactly as she knew I would. I believe her aim was to corrupt me to the point where I could be used to destroy you. ‘The man can be her undoing,’ remember. Cora interpreted that literally to mean I would be able kill you as she couldn’t.” 

“But what stopped her from killing me? Or at least trying to, I’m actually  not that easy to kill.” 

He chuckled, as she’d hoped he would, and shifted his hold on her hand so their fingers were linked. “Her Sight told her it would be disastrous to attempt it. I can only assume it Showed her the same thing about me.” 

“Which is why she cursed you instead of just killing you.” 

“Indeed. It was a bit of a gamble, my challenging her like that, but I figured what else could I do? It was either run with my theory that the Sight had instructed her not to kill me or die anyway, either of starvation or wolves.”

Her hand tightened on his, her mouth thinning as she thought of how she had nearly lost him before they’d even met. 

“What was on that paper you found? That you threw in the fireplace?”

His mouth twisted wryly. “It said ‘Killian Jones is the man in the prophecy.’ Not much, I grant you, but once I knew that, and realised that she knew it and had likely known it since the beginning, a lot of things that had always struck me as peculiar suddenly fell into place. Like why she needed me, why she would go to so much trouble to get me in her control.” 

“But do you think she showed you that deliberately?”

“I do. She must have, she’s not careless enough to leave anything lying around unless she intended me to find it.” 

“But why?”

His thumb rubbed absent patterns on the back of her hand as he thought. “This is all just conjecture,” he said after a short pause, “but I believe she realised that I wasn’t fully on board with what she was doing. As awful as the things I did for her were, as much as they ate away at my soul, some small part of me always resisted, found little ways to thwart her. And she needed me fully committed. I believe she thought that if she let me go I would be lost again as I had been after I was discharged from the navy. That I would eventually come back to her of my own volition and then she would have me.”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t go back.” 

“No. I was determined not to, no matter what it took. I knew I had to find a way to stop her, and the first step would be to learn as much as I could about that prophecy, and about witchcraft, and about the particular witch she sought.” He smiled at her. “About you. So I became a historian, specialising in the history of witchcraft and the occult.” 

“And Cora kept waiting for you to come crawling back,” said Emma, an edge of deep satisfaction in her voice. “But you never did, so she had to come to you. And she found you a successful college professor.” 

Killian chuckled. “Aye. She must have hated that.” 

Emma thought about everything he’d been through, all he had suffered, and how he had still come through it all and beaten Cora at her own game. Love for him surged in her chest. “You’re amazing,” she sighed. 

He flushed bright pink and rubbed at a spot behind his ear, exactly the spot, Emma noted, where he had loved to be scratched when he was a dog. “Ah, I don’t know about that,” he muttered. 

“I do.” Emma wanted to crawl into his lap and have her way with him right there in her library, but she suspected he would be horrified by the prospect of fucking anywhere near ancient books so she settled for leaning across the table and kissing him gently. 

He returned the kiss but when they broke apart he shook his head. “I’ve done some awful things, Emma. You don’t know—” 

“I don’t need to,” she interrupted. “I’ve seen you, Killian, the essence of you. You’re a good man.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You are. And I love you. All of you.” 

“Gods, Emma,” he whispered, leaning close to her again, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t deserve— I’m not— ah, I love you so much.” He kissed her and she sighed, snuggling as close as she could get. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured against her lips.

“Why not stay here?” She couldn’t resist teasing him. “We could—”

“On the books?” He pulled back to gape at her, his eyes as horrified as she’d known they would be. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Love, I don’t think you fully realise just how valuable, how important these books are—” 

“I was kidding,” she soothed him. “We’ll go to bed. And afterwards, I’ll tell you all about my plan for giving Cora what’s coming to her.” 

“Mmmm,” he growled. “That might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

~~ 🌕 ~~

The next morning they went to the shop together, almost as they always had except that the forest was as warmly welcoming as a frosty collection of trees can be and they walked along the path side by side and hand-in-hand. When they reached the edge of the village Emma could feel Killian tense, but they strolled unimpeded down the streets and no one they encountered reacted in any way to the sight of Emma holding hands with a strange man or stopped to ask her where her dog had gone. 

“Hmmm,” said Killian, frowning as Leroy went past them with a gruff nod and no hint of surprise. 

When they reached the shop door he kissed her and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “I think I’ll go see if I can find some new clothes, love,” he said. “And discover if my credit cards still work after I’ve been missing for several months. And I really should contact someone and let them know what happened. Er, as much of it as I can tell them, at least.” 

Emma nodded. “You can use the computer in the back room if you need to. And there’s a shop at the corner of Main and Oak that sells men’s clothes.” 

“Aye, I think I remember it. I’ll be back soon.” He kissed her again, then headed off towards Oak Street. Emma watched him go and tried not to feel bereft. 

“Don’t be an idiot, he’s only going two blocks away,” she told herself firmly. But after nearly three months of Killian being constantly at her side even a short separation felt weird, and the shop empty and echoey without him. 

Fortunately he returned in less than an hour, dressed in new jeans and a soft blue sweater that brought out his eyes. “This is nice,” she murmured as she snuggled into his chest and rubbed her cheek against it. “Almost as soft as your fur used to be.” 

He chuckled. “I thought you’d like it.” 

The shop door opened and Mary Margaret entered. 

“Hey, Emma,” she said, not looking at them as she rummaged in her bag. “ I have to get to school but I just wanted to be sure you were okay, since you were closed yesterday. And yes I know you’re usually really tired after Samhain but I thought I’d check in anyway. Aha, there they are. Classroom keys, thought I’d left them at home.” She looked up, grinning. “Oh, hey Killian.”  

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance and waited. 

Mary Margaret’s eyes darted from Emma to Killian and back again and her bright smile began to fade. She opened her mouth then closed it again. Her forehead wrinkled. She began to blink rapidly and pointed at Killian with a shaking finger. 

“What… you’re… who…” she stuttered. “You are Killian… aren’t you?” 

“Aye,” he replied, short and sharp like a bark, and Mary Margaret’s eyes bugged.  

“Oh my god,” said Emma, elbowing him in the ribs. “Do you have to?” 

Mary Margaret’s eyes were so wide Emma was afraid she’d lose them. “But you’re… how… what… WHAT?”

Emma took pity on her. “Killian was cursed,” she said. 

“Cursed,” repeated Mary Margaret. 

“Yep. By Cora, actually.” 

“Cora— wait, my stepmother Cora?”

“Mmm hmm. Remember I told you I thought she might be a practitioner.” 

“I—” Mary Margaret swayed slightly and Emma darted over to catch her before she could fall. “This is a lot to take in,” she gasped. 

“I get it,” said Emma. “Really I do.” She rubbed her friend’s back in a soothing motion as Mary Margaret concentrated on breathing. “And I hate to put pressure on you,” Emma continued, “but actually I’m glad you’re here because Killian and I could really use your help.”

“Well, I mean, of course I’ll help you if I can,” said Mary Margaret, once her shock had passed. “What do you need?”

“Do you think you and David could come to my house tonight?” asked Emma. “We’ll give you dinner. Killian’s promised to cook.”

“Come to your house,” repeated Mary Margaret, eyes bugging again.  

“Yep.” 

“Your house?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Your house where I’ve never once been because you never invite people there, even though I’ve been your best friend for ten years?”

“Ah. Yes, that’s the one.” 

“And you want us to walk there, I suppose?” Mary Margaret had gone into full teacher mode, hands on her hips and eyes shooting daggers. Emma had to make a conscious effort not to squirm, and not to hex Killian who was leaning against the apothecary counter, trying without much success to stifle his laughter. 

“You’ll have to really,” she told Mary Margaret. “There’s no road.”  

“So you want David and me to walk through the forest? After dark?”

“Yeah, well the forest right now isn’t as scary as it used to be,” began Emma, trailing off when Mary Margaret fixed her with the Look she gave her students when they refused to share their coloured pencils.“But Killian and I will walk with you if it makes you nervous,” she hastened to add.  

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, then another. Then she nodded. “I think… we’d like that. The company and the dinner.”

“Great.” Emma sighed in relief and sent a fervent prayer to the goddess that she would never have to see Mary Margaret’s teacher face again. “How about you meet us back here at about six?” 

“Okay.” 

“And don’t tell Dave about me,” Killian added, with a wicked grin. “I’d like it to be a surprise.” 

~~ 🌕 ~~

At ten minutes to six that evening the streets of downtown Storybrooke were largely deserted, which is unfortunate as anyone who had been on them would have been treated to the sight of the town sheriff being dragged down Main Street by the hand, ruthlessly and at breakneck speed, by the fifth grade teacher. 

“What is all this about?” David grumbled. “I know you’ve always wanted to see Emma’s house but this is a bit extreme.” 

“It’s not about the house,” said Mary Margaret impatiently, then amended. “Well, it is a little bit about the house. But mostly it’s about something I’ve been dying to tell you all day but I promised I wouldn’t and you know how I am with secrets, David, I’ve deleted at least ten texts to you spilling the whole thing and I can’t take it anymore. Would you hurry, we’re nearly there.” 

Seconds later she flung open the shop door and pulled him inside, to where Emma was just finishing counting the register. 

“Hey, I’m nearly done,” she said, carefully ignoring the buzzing excitement that was emanating from Mary Margaret in almost visible waves. 

David looked around, trying to figure out what had his wife in such a tizzy. He didn’t blink when Killian sauntered out of the back room, though he did scowl, as he had every time he’d seen that dog.

Hold up, thought David.  

“Mary Margaret,” Killian said, kissing her cheek. “Lovely to see you again.” He nodded at David. “Dave.” 

David stared for a moment then his face took on the deeply satisfied expression of one who had guessed right all along. “Well at least you didn’t lick her face,” he said. 

“Not anymore, mate,” said Killian. 

“KillianwascursedandCoradiditbutEmmabrokehiscursebykissinghimcanyoubelieveit?” said Mary Margaret, all in one breath. 

“I always knew there was something off about you,” said David, then his eyes narrowed. “Where did you get those clothes?” 

“Shop down the road,” replied Killian. “Thank goodness no one thought to cancel my credit cards.” 

“And what exactly were you wearing before you went to the shop down the road?”

“I was dressed when I was cursed and still dressed when I became uncursed,” said Killian with a smirk. “Good bloody thing too as I wouldn’t have fancied a stroll through the forest of a frosty November morning tackle out, as it were.” 

David opened his mouth again but Emma interrupted. “Stop interrogating him, David, you’re off duty. And anyway, we’ll tell you the whole story over dinner,” she said. “Let’s get going.” 

But Mary Margaret couldn’t wait and she peppered Killian with questions as they walked, and by the time Emma was speaking the words to allow her and David past the garden wards she had pried the entire story from him. 

“I just can’t believe it,” she said for the millionth time as she sat with Emma and David on the sofa while Killian prepared dinner. “I mean, I can believe Cora is evil and I can believe Killian has been a man all this time. He wasn’t really that convincing as a dog, was he? Now that I really think about it, I mean.” 

“I always suspected,” said David smugly.

“You always suspected he was really a history professor cursed by your stepmother-in-law as part of her attempt to flood this world with dark magic?” said Emma, with admirably restrained sarcasm. “That’s some killer detective work right there.” 

David had the grace to look chastened. “Okay, point taken, but I did always think he wasn’t quite right as a dog.” 

“Me too,” said Mary Margaret decidedly.

“Well don’t tell him that,” laughed Emma, “He’s very proud of his dog cosplay.”

Killian called to them that dinner was nearly ready, and Emma led her friends into the kitchen where the large table was set for five. 

“Are you expecting someone else?” asked David. 

“Yeah, I am,” said Emma, looking slightly shifty. “And I’m gonna need you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust you?” 

“Yeah.” The wards around the garden sounded an alarm, and Emma and Killian exchanged glances. “That’ll be her,” said Emma. “I’ll be right back.” 

She returned a few moments later, accompanied by Regina. 

David and Mary Margaret gaped. 

“Regina is here by my invitation,” said Emma, before they could speak. “She’s going to help us.” 

“Help us… how?” asked Mary Margaret.

“Against my mother,” Regina replied. “Miss Swan—” she took a deep breath and started again. “Emma has asked for my assistance in defeating her.” 

“I feel like I’m way behind here. Why does she need to be defeated?” asked David. “Didn’t you take care of that on Samhain?”

“We’ll explain everything over dinner,” said Emma. “And our plan. But first, Regina has something else she’d like to say to you.” 

She gave Regina an expectant look and the dark haired woman grimaced slightly before turning to Mary Margaret. “I want to apologise,” she said. 

“A— what?” said Mary Margaret faintly. 

Emma wondered if she should feel guilty for piling yet another shock on Mary Margaret, who had already had quite the day. But she needed her friend to trust Regina. 

“For the way I treated you,” Regina elaborated. “When we were growing up, and—” she swallowed hard. “—just before your wedding. I owe you an apology for that as well,” she said, turning to David. “I could make excuses, but I won’t. I was awful, and the reasons why don’t matter. I just— I wanted to say I’m truly sorry, and I am going to do better. In the future.” 

The room was dead silent for an uncomfortable moment, the only sound the hissing and bubbling of the food on the stove. Then Mary Margaret stood and approached Regina. Tentatively she put her arms around her stepsister, ignoring the other woman’s flinch. “I accept your apology,” she said. 

Regina’s shoulders slumped as the tension drained from her body, and she actually patted Mary Margaret’s back. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Emma smiled and Killian put his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. “Well done, love,” he murmured in her ear. “I think the food’s all ready, now. Shall we eat?”

“Yeah. Let’s eat.” 

[thekpopaus]

Corsair

Surprise motherfuckers.

Chapter Three

Word Count: 924

Warnings: Some mild violence at the beginning there but none otherwise.

I promise the other members will have bigger parts in this fic as we go.

Surprise motherfuckers

Ch1.    Ch2.

The fighting had continued on for a few more moments, the Red Sails boarding and finishing off anyone else standing. Bambam yanked you behind him at some point to avoid a pirate aiming his sword at your stomach. You peeked around him, hoping to get a glimpse of the woman you’d heard stories about since you were little. 

Only after the deck was cleared of the dead bodies did a woman appear from the other ship. You couldn’t find many words to describe her, most of the stories you had heard called her beautiful and terrifying. Both seemed appropriate when the most elegant woman you had ever laid eyes upon stepped onto the bloodied deck. 

She wore black clothing and had a short sword strapped around her waist, which you did not doubt was used often. Even though she was small and thin, she looked every bit as scary as you expected. She was still beautiful, more than you would expect from a life on the water, her face barely looked weathered.  

It only took Jackson a few strides to make it across the deck and throw his arms around his mother. The rest of the crew mingled with the rest of the Red Sails while they cleaned their bloodied swords and inspected the damage to the ship. There were a few cuts to wrap but it seemed like they weren’t deep enough to cause concern.  

“It looks like we can make it to port, but we’ll need to dock for a few days to repair everything. The wood is too splintered to be of use so we’ll need some new beams.” Mark was the one who usually patched small holes in the ship now that you had taken over the sails. 

Jackson’s mother finally spoke to everyone, “We will have an early morning meal and then we set sail to the nearest port.” Both crews moved to their respective cabins to start preparing while Jackson and his mother caught up. 

You figured it would be better to stay out everyone’s way so you made your way back to your bunk to start working on Jackson’s shirt.

You had decided against using Jaebum’s measurements because Jackson wasn’t as broad and you didn’t want it to be too big. Guessing would probably work better. 

It only took about a half an hour for Bambam to come down to tell you breakfast was ready. “I’m wearing my new shirt for dinner! Jackson’s mother can see how great you are at sewing! She might know of someone looking for a talented seamstress at one of the big ports.” 

He seemed so excited but you were dreading trying to settle down somewhere. It felt like you just found where you belong and you were supposed to leave and try to find a new place to live and new friends. Hopefully Jackson’s mother didn’t know anyone.

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everyone sat down for dinner and started talking, Jackson and his mother having their own quiet conversation at the head of the table. Bambam was busy telling everyone about his shirt and you were ready to crawl under the table and disappear. You were sure your face was red as a tomato but Bambam didn’t seem to notice. 

Jackson and his mother both seemed too caught up in their own conversation to listen to Bambam and for that you were thankful. Knowing how long she had been a pirate you were sure she had to know of someone looking for a seamstress and you weren’t sure you wanted to leave the ship and your friends just yet. 

Once everyone had finished eating and talk had quieted down you started to feel exhaustion set in. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off and you found yourself dozing off at the table, lack of sleep wearing you down. Mark noticed your head about to meet the wood of the table and nudged your arm, telling you to go to bed. 

Shaking yourself awake you told him you wanted to be awake in case they needed help on their way into port. 

Jackson must have overheard you, though and spoke up from his end of the table, “Y/N we’ll be fine. You didn’t sleep last night so I know you have to be exhausted. We’ll wake you up when we get to town so you can get off the ship and look around. This port is a lot bigger than your old town so you’ll have plenty to keep you busy. My mother told me there are a few clothing shops you may want to check out.” 

Trying to hide your disappointment you just nodded and forced a smile at Jackson’s mother, hoping the clothing shops were all closed when you got there. 

Mark helped you stand up from your chair and offered to clear the table of your dishes for you which you appreciated. Dragging yourself to bed you didn’t even notice the rocking of the ship anymore, the anxiety you felt overwhelming anything else. Hopefully once you docked you could set out on your own so you could avoid the clothing shops. You were sure the crew wouldn’t want you to leave but you still weren’t sure how Jackson felt about you being around. He might be ready to leave you at the dock tomorrow.

Even with the anxious thoughts bouncing around your head, you fell asleep almost immediately after you laid down, praying you had some bad luck in this town when you woke up. 

[globgor-of-mewnie]

Since When Has Our Relationship Ever Been Easy?

Okay, SO. I have grown to the point where I feel like song fics cause your work to be taken a little less seriously. It dates the work and can make it appear a little jarring. Of course, this doesn’t apply to work based off a song, but rather trying to insert lyrics into your writing in order to set a certain mood or, really, you just like the song.

 Where am I going with this? Well, I guess it’s karaoke time, because I have to insert a song into this chapter. I tried everything I could think of to not use it, but there’s going to be singing involved at some point, and I’m not creative enough to write a song! I’ll go into more details at the end of the chapter, lest I spoil what happens with this introduction. Take care and enjoy!

*Also please let me know if the extra spacing between the dialogue in this chapter bugs you guys. It takes a little extra time to get it with less space, but if that’s how you guys prefer it, I’ll be happy to oblige!

 Ages:

 Globgor: 9

 Eclipsa: 8

Prologue/CH1/CH2/CH3

CH3-Among the Enemy

Among the Enemy

It seemed no matter where she went, Eclipsa was a stark contrast to everyone around her. Whether it be with her friends, her family, or in this case, the guards who stood valiantly along the halls of her home. They remained stoic and unmoving, even as the princess skipped happily through the carpeted corridors. Sure, she tried waving to them once or twice, but as usual, she was ignored. Most adults seemed to enjoy doing that. Blowing her off like some sort of fly. She never really understood that. Wasn’t she going to be queen one day? Shouldn’t people be giving her some attention?

 Then again, maybe her invisibility was actually a blessing considering all the mischief she had been getting in to as of late.

 She stopped at her destination-a simple door that worked as a sort of supply closet for all the magical doohickeys Glossaryck left lying around. Her mom had told her magical mentor to pick up after himself, but so far he had yet to comply. So the queen usually just wound up getting the servants to toss his junk in here.

 Much to Eclipsa’s delight.

 She rubbed her hands together eagerly as opened the door. As expected, none of the guards paid her any mind. There was nothing in there that could be considered dangerous. It was filled with a bunch of junk, like apples that could sing in a foreign language, or sock puppets that held staring matches. Annoyances rather than weapons. But what was one queen’s trash, was another princesses’ treasure!

 Eclipsa turned on the lantern that hung from the ceiling as stepped inside. She pushed some junk aside, wanting to make some room. Almost immediately, all the magical items that could talk started to chatter. The clock that snored, the hairbrush that brushed its teeth while whistling, the gloves that never stopped clapping, the list was endless. However, as fun as all these gimmicks were, there was one object the princess was searching for in particular.

 “Aha! Got you!” She stood on her tip toes in order to reach behind the mirror that showed you what you would look like if you were the opposite gender and pulled out a music box. It was a white box that glittered like a pearl. It had several knobs on the lid, each channeling a different song. Not just any songs though. These were songs that came from other dimensions. Some of them weren’t even written yet in their world and were pulled out from the future!

 Eclipsa hummed happily to herself as she sat the box down on the dresser that ate your clothes. As much as she loved hearing some of that hard-hitting music that made her want to swing her head around, she was in more in the mood for something softer at that moment. She reached for the fancy knob on the right hand corner and opened the lid. Because she had chosen an elegant song, a small ballroom dancer appeared when she opened the lid. Both she and the dancer gave a little bow to each other before the doll began her song.

 Eclipsa swayed to the music, humming along to the song she had heard many times. She imagined dancing in the middle of the forest with a bard playing nearby. After all, it would be much more fun to dance around nature and life rather than the stuffy balls the Butterflys were notorious for throwing. Much more room out beyond the castle walls. Not to mention much more excitement.

 A small smile appeared on her face as she imagined a dance partner to share this song with. Of course the first person she thought of was her secret monster friend. Ha! The very thought of Globgor dancing was priceless! He was much too serious to do something like that! She doubted he had an elegant bone in his body. He was always too dirty and grouchy. She liked him anyway though. She could tell he was a nice guy because he often brought over monster things during their secret meetings for her to see. He showed her their books, their games, their clothes, their customs, all sorts of things. She always made sure to return the favor of course, even though he acted like he had no interest in her culture. He made it very clear to her that although he made an exception for her, he still despised all Mewmans.

 Oh Globgor. She was sure if he would just take the time to have some fun, he wouldn’t be such a grump. He was way too invested in all the arguing adults got into. He was almost as bad as the princesses of the Butterfly allies. Still though, at least he gave her the time of day, something she couldn’t say about….well, most people in her life!

 “Hey Glossaryck, is that you in the-“

 Eclipsa halted her twirling as someone unexpectedly entered the room. It was a strange looking woman with white skin, long red hair, and golden eyeballs. The minute their gazes locked, the intruder swore under her breath before turning tail in the opposite direction.

 “Hekapoo!” Eclipsa shut the box and raced after the woman. She saw her walk down the hallway, pushing the rest of the High Commission with her. They were speaking in loud whispers, leaving the woman to shrug her shoulders in defense. “Hey guys! Wait up!”

 The group tried to speed up, only for the princess to run around them and plant her feet firmly on the ground, her eyes locked on them.

 A look of defeat crossed the members’ features before the big skull guy called Omnitraxus Prime spoke. “Ah Princess….we didn’t see you there!”

 “Yes you did.”

 “Well, okay it was more like we didn’t want to see you,” Reynaldo the Bald Plate said before earning a jut from Hekapoo’s elbow. The giraffe man shrugged as if to say ‘well it’s true’.

 “Baaaaaah,” the goat demon Lekmet cut in.

 “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” The crystal-head guy named Rhombulus gave a pointed look towards the young girl. “So uh…Princess Eclipsa, is there something we can do for you?”

 Eclipsa paused. “Well…..how are you guys?”

 They all stared at her with blank expressions. They turned to confusion as they looked at one another.

 “What does she mean by that?” whispered Rhombulus.

 “Not sure. I don’t think we’ve included her in our battle strategies.” Omnitraxus looked over at his goat accomplice. “Lekmet, check our rosters. She is quite small. Maybe we just didn’t notice her.”

 “Baaaaah.”

 Rhombulus raised one of his snake hands.“Lekmet says a good leader should know who’s attending a meeting, who could be attending a meeting, and who already had attended a meeting at all times. A roster is nothing more than a cheat sheet for lazy planning.”

 “He ate it, didn’t he?” Hekapoo quipped.

 “Guys, guys!”

 Everyone turned back to look at Eclipsa as she frantically waved her hands back and forth. “I wasn’t referring to the war! I just wanted to know how you guys were doing in general!”

 A pause.

 “……Why?” Reynaldo inquired.

 Eclipsa sighed. “Well, it’s just that, every time you guys show up here, you meet with my mom and then immediately leave. How come you guys never hang around? I mean, you do for big events, but-“

 “What is she talking about?” Omnitraxus whispered, as if the princess wouldn’t be able to hear him if he softened his voice.

 Instead of answering him, Hekapoo raised a hand. “Princess, I’m gonna stop you right there. Our job is to monitor and regulate the magic throughout the multi-dimensions. Our association is with the queen. We’re not here to sit and chat with the rest of the family.”

 “But I’m going to be queen one day!”

 “And when that happens, you’ll see so much of us it’ll be nauseating.” Omnitraxus said, his voice condescending. “Until then, well, we really have no need to associate with you.”

 “….” Eclipsa folded her arms and looked dejectedly off to the side. “….You know, I really don’t have many friends here. Everyone is so obsessed with the war. No one is interested in just hanging out, talking, or having fun. It’s like no one has the time to be happy.” She made a noise of frustration as she turned to face the window reflecting to her left.  

 “Mom says that we fight to stay alive, but what’s the point of that if we don’t do anything with our lives? It’s like we fight to live so we can live to fight! Is anyone actually interested in winning this thing? Who exactly is my mother if not the valiant she-knight revered by her people? And what will I be-“

 ….

 Her words halted as she turned to see the High Commission had fled the area, leaving her to stand alone.

 …..

 Her head sank as she tightly gripped her right arm. She had actually surprised herself with the amount of insight she had spilled on the group of magic leaders. She had always known she hated the war, but she had never put her feelings into detail before. It wasn’t just about no one having time for her. She was tired of seeing everyone so angry and miserable all the time. This war had been going on her whole life. Would it go on for the rest of it? Would everyone be unhappy forever?

 Eclipsa sighed as she made her way over to the window. She cupped her cheeks and leaned her elbows on the sill. How she wished Globgor was available to hang out that day. It was amazing that he was so involved in the war she despised, yet he still made time to meet with her once a week. It was always random days, as Globgor thought it would look too suspicious if he disappeared around the same time every week. This week they had planned to meet on Friday. Stupid ‘ol four days away Friday.

 Ugh, she didn’t want to wait that long! She really missed him! She wanted them to play together! She wished she could just go say hi to him, but no doubt the other monsters would be pretty mad about her being there. Plus she really didn’t want to get him in trouble.

 …..

 Her eyes brightened. She released a happy gasp before quickly heading off to her bedroom.

  ___

 A Mewman named Hue grunted in dismay as he landed face-first in the mud in front of him. He swore he could hear the animals of the forest giggling to himself as scrambled back to his feet and wiped himself off. This was just not turning out to be his day. How could he have gotten so lost? Ugh, it was all his cousin’s fault! Why did he have to give him such a crummy map? It was like a two-year-old drew this thing!

 He groaned as he kicked off some aquatic creature from his boot. He pulled out his map and studied it closely. He had no idea which part of the territory belonged to monsters and which one to Mewmans. How was he not good enough to get a ride to his destination? Did one have to be a soldier in order to get a little respect in the kingdom? Why, without him and his scholarly knowledge, his village would be left-

 Shink!

 “……” Hue stared in disbelief at the spear that not only shot through his map, but went straight through his chest. He gave a watery gasp as he watched helplessly at the red stain growing over his shirt. He tried to speak up, give some sort of vocal protest over having been slain in such a way, but his body collapsed and shut down before he could get a word out.

  ___

 “This string bean is what you stalked after for the last half hour?”

 Globgor was clearly unimpressed as Tigre, the red, bipedal tiger monster with blue stripes, walked over to the hunted Mewman and retrieved his spear. “I mean, look at how thin he is! That’s not going to feed our soldiers and their families!”

 “Hey, more meat is more meat,” Tigre retorted. He spoke with an accent similar to Globgor’s, and matched him in terms of height and build. He bound the Mewman’s ankles with rope so he could drag him back to the village.

 Globgor smirked and looked back at the much larger game, which he was also dragging along. “Everyone back home is hungry. Your little entre just made them have to wait longer. My game is more than enough!”

 Tigre rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless. “Yeah, that’s why you came to my house begging me to go hunting with you, right?”

 Globgor smacked him on the head with his tail. “I do not beg. I said an extra pair of hands would be helpful. That’s it!”

 “I’m pretty sure you threw in a ‘please’ in there somewhere.”

 This banter continued until they got home and delivered their Mewmans. The chefs and cooks took them gratefully, and got ready to prepare them along with the other hunted trespassers.

 “Can you believe your idea has completely changed the menu for monsters?” Tigre gave the Size-Shifter a playful shove on the shoulder. “Not only are Mewman numbers going down, but our resources are completely stocked!”

 Globgor raised his left eyebrows. “Do I hear an actual compliment coming from you?”

 His friend shrugged and pointed to a few adult monsters giving the Size-Shifter admiring glances. “I may as well join the crowd. You’ve gained a lot of respect over the past year, and your size changing powers haven’t even kicked in yet!”

 “Um, my growing abilities haven’t kicked in, you mean. I can still shrink to the size of an ant!”

 “Right. Impressive,” the other said with an eye roll.

 “It is impressive! You’d be surprised how much you can do when nobody can see you!”

 Tigre shrugged. “Maybe, but monsters won’t be able to look up to you if they have to look down at you, y’know?”

 “…..” Globgor folded his arms behind his head and tried to hide a smile. “…I don’t’ care if the other monsters look up to me or not. I’m just here to do my part.”

 “Oh Globgor, you’re so noble.” Tigre mocked while batting his eyes at him.

 “I mean, I’m not saying I don’t like it-“

 “-Which is why it’s going to suck when I grow stronger than you, and I become the hero of monsters!” Tigre goaded while jutting the other with his elbow.

 Globgor smiled at the challenge. “Haha, right. Didn’t we just discuss how one day I’m going to grow to the size of a giant?”

 “Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

 “Oh yeah?”

 “Yeah!”

 Their grins grew as their eyes narrowed at each other. Nothing else needed to be said. They knew what came next.

 The stiffed their stances, posing as if they were getting ready to square off. Then they both threw their tails out and latched on to the other’s. They grit their teeth as they proceeded to wrestle with their tails, gearing to dominate the other with their strength.

 “Give it up, Tigre! Even if I don’t beat you today, one day I’ll be able to grow my tail and snap yours in half!”

 “Oh yeah? And what if you never learn how to grow? Have you considered that?”

 “Of course I will! All Size-Shifters learn once they go through puberty!”

 “How do you know? The only source you have for Size-Shifters was an old guy who-“

 Both monsters paused their battle. Globgor looked away, a perplexed look on his face.

 Tigre loosed his grip, his ears flattening against his head. “Oh hey man, I didn’t mean-“

 The boy’s words were cut off as Globgor suddenly tightened his grip on the other’s tail and flipped him over on his rump. Before he could get back up, the other boy placed a three-toed foot firmly on his chest.

 “You’ll never get stronger if you let your guard down like that.”

 “Oh come on, Globgor. You have to admit that was a little underhanded!”

 Both boys looked up to see a girl with a purple cloak pulled over her head. Her face was green and she had red speckles across her face. Her eyes were chastising, but she was smiling nonetheless.

 Tigre allowed Globgor to help him to his feet while he inspected the girl. “That’s right. ‘Ol Glob-Glob isn’t as valiant as he looks at first.” He looked over at the monster in question “What gives, man? I thought I was the only friend you had in the village.”

 Globgor shrugged. “I don’t know this girl.”

 “I’m from a village not too far from here!” the girl said, a sneaky smile on her face. “I heard about the super awesome Globgor and came to see for myself!”

 Tigre raised an eyebrow at the bewildered Size-Shifter. “That right?”

 “You’ve….heard about me?” If he was being honest, the news was flattering. He approached the girl with a confident expression. “Um, mind telling me what you heard?”

 The girl giggled. “I’ve heard that you’re very strong and loyal to your people! You work very hard each and every day! In fact, the only thing that can break that iron wall you keep around yourself is a sweet, chocolatey snookers bar!”

 …..

 Globgor’s smile disappeared. He felt his stomach drop as he inspected the face of the stranger closer. He could practically feel the color drain from his face once he realized that the green in the girl’s face wasn’t skin, but paint….

 No. Surely not. Even she wasn’t this stupid.

 The girl smiled again and gave him a small wave. “Hi Globby!”

 CRAP!

 “Y-You…!”

 Behind him, Tigre released a resounding laugh. “Dude, did she just call you ‘Globby’? Ha! I need to remember that one! It’s so cute!”

 Globgor pushed down his indignation as he tightly grabbed on to the girl’s shoulders. “Um, I’ll be right back! The girl and I need to have a talk.” In a flash, the monster dragged the stranger through the village to a secluded place behind a house. Immediately he slammed her against the wall, his four eyes glaring daggers at the imposter.

 “Are you out of your mind?!!” He yelled as loud as he dared lest someone heard him.

 The girl pouted at him. “I thought you’d be happy to see me!”

 “Why on mewni would you think that, Eclipsa?!” He covered his mouth once he realized he said her name. He looked around, making sure no one had heard him. Oh, he couldn’t imagine what would happen if everyone found out the Mewman princess among them. No doubt she’d be killed or captured in ten seconds flat.

  He glared at the girl. “We agreed to meet this Friday! Last time I checked, it wasn’t Friday!!”

 “But I wanted to see you now.” Eclipsa insisted. “I’m so lonely back at the Butterfly Castle.”

 Globgor gave her a mocking pout. “Oh. Is the poor princess bored?” He glared at her, baring his fangs. “Well, we’re hungry, cold, sleep-deprived, and above all, scared! So excuse me if I’m a little less than sympathetic!”

 Eclipsa frowned at him before her bottom lip began to quiver. She turned around so that she wasn’t facing him. “You don’t have to make me feel bad. I know you work very hard. It’s just…you’re the only friend I have.”

 “That’s sad, but not in the way you’re thinking.” The boy groaned as he noticed the tears appearing in the other’s eyes. “Oh come on now, don’t start crying.”

 “I’m not…” she mumbled, wiping at her eyes.

 Globgor dragged his hands down his face with an exaggerated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you, but what you’ve done is incredibly dangerous for both of us!”

 The boy didn’t notice the satisfied smile that appeared on the girl’s face as the boy caved in to her crocodile tears. She turned back to him with a soft smile. “But you actually know me, and you didn’t recognize me! Look, I have my cheek marks covered! No one will know it’s me!” She shrugged. “Besides, even if they do find out, they should be okay with me since they like you and I’m your friend!”

 Globgor rubbed his lower eyes in exhaustion. “Eclipsa, you don’t know how wrong you are.”

 Eclipsa looked hurt. “You’re not my friend?”

 “Of course I’m your friend! I wouldn’t be risking my neck to hang out with you if I wasn’t!” He gave her a hard stare. “But there’s no way I can choose you over them. I promised to be there for my people. If you get found out, I don’t know what I can do to protect you.”

 Eclipsa smiled and grabbed his hands. “Don’t worry, it won’t come to that!”

 “Won’t come to what?”

 The two children looked to the side to see a young pink cat monster walking up to them with a basket in her paws. She looked between the two with wide, blue eyes.

 “P-Puma!” Globgor squeaked, putting a little space between him and Eclipsa. “Um…we were just…uh…”

 “How do you do?” Puma seemed to have forgotten her question as made her way over to the disguised princess, causing Globgor to stiffen with fear. “Have we met before?”

 Eclipsa smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m from a different village. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Puma!”

 The feline gasped as she look at Globgor in surprise. “Oh my goodness! This visitor knows my name! I feel so special!”

 “Puma, I just said what your name i-“

 “I made muffins filled with nuts!” Puma turned back to the girl and held up her basket. “I’ve been passing them out to villagers! Would you like one?”

 “Thank you!” Eclipsa took one and took a bite. It certainly wasn’t as sweet as treats back at the castle, but that didn’t make it necessarily bad. It was warm and had a sort of comforting clasp on her taste buds. “Mmm! Tasty!”

 “That’s so nice of you to say!” Puma said, placing a paw to her chest.

 Eclipsa gave her a bright smile. She was doing her best to play natural, but inside she was brimming with excitement. She had just received a gift from a monster! She was having a polite conversation with one! This was something most Mewmans said was impossible. Why wasn’t it something more people tried to do?

 She was interrupted from her thoughts as Globgor suddenly came up behind her and began to push her away. “Well, thanks for the snack Puma, but she really has to go now! We’ll have to catch you later!”

 “Already? She just got here,” Tigre said, suddenly approaching the two while giving Eclipsa a skeptical look.

 Globgor waved a hand. “Yes, but it’s a long way back to her village, and she needs to get back before dark!”

 “How do you know?” Tigre asked.

 “I just know! What’s with all the questions?!”

 “Why are you acting so skittish?”

 Eclipsa bit her lower lip as she watched the boys argue. Shoot. She hadn’t meant to get Globgor so riled up. Why couldn’t he just relax? She wasn’t afraid, so he shouldn’t be either.

 She ginned widely as she looked at the monsters roaming around in all different shapes and sizes. Well, okay maybe she wasn’t feeling relaxed. Rather, she was itching to go around and see what she could. She had never seen so many monsters in her life. She was surprised by how….normal they seemed. Oh sure, they looked nothing like her kind, but she could see a mother with her baby, two boys rough-housing nearby, and a woman tending her garden. These were all things she could easily see by looking out a window back at the castle. Who knew the two races partook in every days that were parallel to each other’s?

 Unable to help herself, Eclipsa rushed out into the streets, wanting to get a better look.

 “Look, I swear I don’t know this girl!” Globgor promised, throwing his arms up at the two feline siblings. “But you know I tend to make it my responsibly to look after my fellow monsters. That’s why I want to get her home before it becomes too late to get her to safety! I just want to make sure she’s safe!” He turned around….to see that the girl was no longer beside him.

 …..

 “I’m gonna kill her!!!” he roared.

 ___

 Eclipsa was unable to keep the smile off her face as she made her way through the town of monsters. It was so surreal! Sure, there was a rough-looking guy here and there, but everyone else seemed so friendly! Every time she waved to someone, they would smile and wave back. It was all so amazing!

 As well as….confusing. Her mom had always said the only thing a monster could feel was greed and bloodlust. So, why did these monsters act so much like Mewmans? They played together, talked together, did business together….

 A sudden thought occurred to the princess. Stopping in her tracks, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her. She paid no mind to her eyesight and decided to rely entirely on her ears.

 ……

 “…..Hey Mom, is it okay if Gingy stays a little longer?”

 “-on my mother’s grave, the fish was THIS big! If I had a stronger net, I would be a hero right-“

 “-found this tea that will go perfectly with that salad you put together-“

 “-don’t want to go yet, Daddy! Just five more min-“

 “-has your eyes!”

 “-love your shoes!”

 “-see you tomorrow!”

 …..

 ….!

 Eclipsa was floored. In her mind, she wasn’t currently in a village filled with monsters. Rather, she was back at home, walking among her own kind. Nothing she was hearing could make her see differently! This didn’t make any sense. If everyone hated each other so much, why were they-

 Her eyes flew open as she was suddenly struck with a ball to the face. She fell over, groaning a bit as stars flew over her head. Luckily she had enough sense in her to keep her hood on, lest anyone see her Mewman hair.

 “Oh, sorry about that!”

 Eclipsa sat up to see three different monsters-a lizard girl, a frog boy, and some red one-eyed thing-look at her with concern.

 “I didn’t mean to hit you! I guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes!” the lizard girl said with a sheepish grin.

 “I told her Suzie she was going to wind up hitting someone!” the frog boy hugged.

 “Oh, get off my back, Todd!”

 “Hey, it’s okay, really!” Eclipsa stood up, holding the ball in her hands. “No harm done! What were you guys playing anyway?”

 “Just a little game of pass-along,” the red kid said.

 “’Pass-along’? Are you kidding? We have that game back at the ca-I mean, my village!”

 “No kidding?” Suzie said with a laugh. “Well heck, up for a round? The game is more fun with four players anyway!”

 “Can I?!” Eclipsa practically jumped.

 “Yeah, come on! Over here!”

 Eclipsa gleefully joined the three monsters and formed a circle with them. It was a pretty lazy game where all you did was put your fists together and pass the ball to other members by hitting it. If you tried to pass it to someone and they missed, they were the ‘loser’ and had to sit out for the remainder of the round. Despite the simplicity, the princess was overjoyed to be playing with a group of kids her age. It’s something she had been wanting for a very long time.

 They all seemed to be enjoying themselves as they passed the ball to each other, doing an excellent job at keeping it in the air. As it turned out, the red monster was the first one to miss the ball.

 Then things got awkward.

 “Oooh! You’re out, Fred!” Todd said, pointing at said monster.

 Suzie giggled as she tightened the circle of the group and grabbed the ball. “You’re the rotten Mewman, Fred! Park yourself off to the side so we can continue!”

 “…” Eclipsa lowered her hands as she felt her joy diminish by the monster’s words. “…’Rotten Mewman’?”

 Suzie shrugged. “Yeah, you know, the loser? Do they not have that in your village?”

 “Um…” Eclipsa looked off to the side, not knowing how to respond to the girl’s words. “Well…that’s kind of mean, don’t you think?”

 “Oh, don’t worry about it!” Fred said with a wave. “It’s just a game. I don’t mind being called a Mewman.”

 “Can’t we play this game without insulting Mewmans though?”

 The children went silent.

 Suzie was the first to speak, cutting the air with a laugh of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Why shouldn’t we insult them? That’s the least they deserve after all they’ve done to us!”

 Eclipsa’s heart sank. “I…don’t think that’s entirely fair. I mean, monsters have hurt them too-“

“Oh my gosh, are you actually defending them?” Todd said, backing away with the other two kids.

 “But it’s true! Monsters have hurt Mewmans too!”

 “Because Mewmans started it!” Suzie said, stomping her foot. “Monsters were here on Mewni first, and Mewmans forced them to leave their homes!”

 “Monsters didn’t stand a chance!” Fred added. “They had magic and we didn’t!”

 “They took our land, so now we’re barely scraping by with our food!” Todd said, clenching his fists tightly. “And they won’t rest until they’ve stolen every inch of land and killed us all!”

 “That’s not true!” Eclipsa said, genuine tears starting to rise in her eyes.

 “Oh no? You can seriously look at Solaria and say that’s not what she’s doing?” Suzie demanded.

 Eclipsa opened her mouth to deny the claims….but stopped. Her mind went over the times she had caught her mother making battle plans with the High Commission. All the red circles she would scribble over the map…..She had always known that that those were lands her mother had planned to conquer, but….she’d never thought of them as people’s homes.

 Of course she knew that monsters had inhabited Mewni first, but….they were….evil….No. They were just like Mewmans. She saw that today. So…if the Mewmans misunderstood the monster’s intentions from the beginning….

 ….did that mean that the war was all the Mewmans fault?

 Eclipsa felt glued to the ground as the monster children decided to leave her, muttering that they didn’t want to play with a Mewman-sympathizer. She gripped her arms tightly, suddenly feeling very cold. It was like a veil had been lifted from her eyes. All her life she thought it was the monsters attacking and causing Mewmans to fight back with a vengeance. Causing her mom to fight.

 Now so many pieces were starting to connect.

 Her pupils shook as she took a second look around at the monsters inhabiting the village. She had been wrong before. There was one key difference between the two races.

 There weren’t any Mewmans shivering on the sidewalk.

 There weren’t any injured Mewmans sitting nearby without any bandages.

 There weren’t Mewmans moving off to the side so they could vomit in peace.

 The Mewmans didn’t eat the tiniest portions of food she had ever seen in her life.

 The Mewmans weren’t living in broken houses.

 The Mewmans weren’t suffering like the monsters were.

 That…..that wasn’t fair.

 No…

 The bad guys….were the Mewmans.

 Eclipsa covered her mouth as she sat down on a bench resting nearby. Had the signs always been there? Had she just ignored them? Sure, she actively tried to not pay attention to the war, but never would she have guessed that it was her own people who were causing all the misery in Mewni. Her poor mother. She probably had no idea how screwed up everything was. She needed to say something. She had to tell her people that the monsters weren’t that different from them after all.

 ….But how could she do that without revealing she had been in monster territory? What if the High Commission found out? What if her mother did? They’d lock her away for the rest of her life! Worse, she’d may be unable to see Globgor ever again! What could be a more tragic fate than that?

 No, she’d have to find another way to help the monsters. A discrete way. Maybe with Globgor’s help. He could be her connection to the monster world. She’d think of ways to make up for the carnage. She just wished there was something she could do right now to help them a little….

 ….

 As if the Stump itself decided to answer her prayers, her mauve eyes landed on an abandoned guitar sitting nearby.

  ___

“-rip her stupid spades off then use them as a sleeping mask!” Globgor was in a foul mood to say the least. He had spent the better half of an hour trying to find his so-called friend before she did something to get herself killed. Did that girl ever think? Like, ever? Why was it she never took potential threats seriously? Did she really think she was immune to the deep-seeded hatred between their races?

 He was about to take another search around the block, when he bumped into a random monster. He was about to apologize when he noticed that many monsters were headed in the same direction he was. In fact, he was the only one heading in the opposite direction. Where was everyone going?

 His ears pricked up at the faint sound of….singing? Who was singing? Nobody in his village sang as far he knew. He turned in the direction of the noise, furrowing his brow in concentration.

 “Dreams to dream. In the dark of the night, when the world goes wrong, I can still make it right. I can see so far in my dreams. I’ll follow my dreams until they come true~.”

 …..Okay, Globgor had little to no experience with music, but this was the most melodic sound he’d ever heard in his life. He turned around and followed the rest of the monsters who were crowded around the source of the magical sound. He took the opportunity to shrink to a miniscule size so he could squeeze past the others. Once he reached the front, he returned to his normal size, his widened at the sight before him.

 Eclipsa was sitting a bench with a guitar, singing to her captivated monster audience.

 “Come with me. You will see what I mean. There’s a world inside no one else ever sees. You will go so far in my dreams. Somewhere in my dreams, your dreams will come true~.”

 ….How….what….Eclipsa could sing?! And play guitar?! Like really really good?! Like, he could feel her voice working as some sort of balm over his aching muscles. He had never heard a sound so pleasing to his ears before. Before he knew what he was doing, he closed his eyes so he could concentrate more on her voice.

 “There is a star waiting to guide us waiting to guide us, shining inside us, when we close our eyes~!”

 Globgor gasped as his friend hit a high note at the end. It sent shivers down his spine.

 “Don’t let go! If you stay close to me in my dreams tonight, you will see what I see. Dreams to dream, as near as can be, inside you and me, they always come true~.”

 Globgor opened his eyes as his village applauded the stranger’s song, clearly having enjoyed someone taking the time to give them a show. He watched as the princess stood up, giving a little bow.

 It was only when their eyes locked did he realize that tears had appeared in his eyes.

  ___

“I’m telling you, I just got some dirt in my eyes!”

 “All four of them?”

 “It happens!”

 Eclipsa pushed his shoulder, giggling to herself as she made her way through the forest fauna. “Why is it so hard for you to admit your more sensitive feelings?”

 Globgor grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I already admitted you have talent. What more do you want from me?”

 Eclipsa’s smile softened as her eyes became downcast. “Well…next time we meet, I’m going to do better than a song. I’ll bring you some food and stuff to give to your people. I want to do what I can to help them. That’s all I can do right now until I’m queen.”

 “……” Globgor cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “….Thanks Eclipsa. That means a lot to me.” His face became uncharistically soft as he looked her up and down. “Are you uh….okay?”

 She nodded despite the sad smile on her face. “Yeah….I guess I just didn’t want to believe you about my people. I can’t believe we’re the bad guys. We’re really awful people. I mean, I know you told me this already, but I just thought you were being a jerk. I had no idea our living conditions were so different.”

 “…..I mean, you’re not a bad person.” Globgor said, giving a careless shrug. “So…I guess as long as there’s one good Mewman, there should be hope for the rest of your people….maybe.”

 Eclipsa grinned and mimed the action of playing a guitar. “You know, everyone seemed to really like my singing. Maybe I could come back some time and-“

 “NO.” Globgor caught the girl with his tail so that he could stop her from walking. He turned her so she could see his eyes digging into her. “Eclipsa, you can never pull what you did today ever again. Do you understand?”

 “But everyone loved me!”

 “Because they thought you were a monster! It doesn’t matter how kind you are to them, or how nicely you sing, if they find out you’re a Mewman, you. Will. Be. Killed.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his light-pink curls. “I have enough on my plate as it is, I don’t need to add worrying about you on top of everything else!”

 “….” Eclipsa gave a small shrug. “It’s okay. I can look out for myself.”

 “Of course I’m going to look out for you!” Globgor said in exasperation. “I don’t want to lose you!”

 ……

 After a pregnant pause, Globgor squinted his eyes at the girl in a threatening manner. “I hate you for making me say that.”

 Eclipsa’s cheeks lit up as she heavily blushed. “Oh, you!” She turned to face him. “Thanks for showing me what monsters are really like, Globgor.” She then stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek.

 As expected, the boy shot back like she had just bit him. “H-Hey! W-What are you doing?!”

 Eclipsa giggled and raised a digit. “You’ll never get stronger if you let your guard down like that!” She gave him a wink before heading in the direction back to the castle.

 “…..” Globgor shifted in indignation. “If you ever call me Globby again, I’ll bite your face off!” he called.

 “No you won’t!”

 “Well….I’ll want to!”

 He watched her until she was out of his sight. Once she was gone, he gently touched the spot she had kissed. No one had ever done that to him before. His first instinct was to scrub the spot clean, but he ultimately decided against it

 …..

 Geez, why did he keep getting the suspect feeling this girl was going to get him into a lot of trouble?

 And why did he feel so okay with that?

   *Song is Dreams to Dream from Fieval Goes West. You can find it on Youtube. Make sure to listen to Tanya’s version!

 I want to start by reassuring you guys I’m not going to make this story as simple as ‘monsters good/Mewmans bad’. The fault in monsters is going to be covered in later chapters. I believe it’s important for Eclipsa to be the first one to realize that her race isn’t as innocent as she was raised to believe. After all, I imagine her to be the more open-hearted one, not really wanting to be enemies with anyone. It would be a lot easier for her to let go of any prejudices she had than it would be for Globgor, who’s actively involved in defeating the Mewmans.

 Now, let me explain why I needed to use a song for this chapter. I don’t know if anyone else notices this, but Globgor always seemed entranced whenever he heard Eclipsa sing during the show. He always stood and watched before he joined in harmony. This causes me to believe he adores his wife’s singing voice. Therefore, I needed the first time he heard her sing to be nothing short of magic. I didn’t feel like I could really capture by just saying Eclipsa ‘sang really good’. I needed a song to refer to. I really didn’t want to, but I’m not creative enough to come up with my own song! On top of that, I was crazy about this song as a kid, and I still find it to be a sweet tune to this day. I hope you guys are okay with how I handled the moment and will forgive me for pretty much making this chapter a ‘songfic’ one.

 Another time-skip will happen in the next chapter. And we’re going to cover a topic that I know a lot of you have been eager for.

 Mewburty.