#I just feel like Henry is a farm boy and likes growing stuff

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Would love to hear about Drumming Song or Salt, if you want to!

Salt is actually not a Witcher fic (surprising, I know, who even am I?). It's my take on a selkie and fisherman fic that is not about selkies at all featuring John Bridgens and Henry Peglar from The Terror. It's actually a reworking of a very old Les Mis fic I wrote in middle school and going through and picking the wheat from all of the chaff I wrote at 13 is kind of fun. Baby me kind of went off in places NGL.

Drumming Song came about because I decided that Eskel would make a great drummer. It slowly spiraled out of control from a cute fic of Geralt getting hot and bothered watching Eskel play to an absolute heartbreaker of a fic involving complicated sibling relationships, drug abuse, abandonment issues, the inherent trauma of growing up as an outsider in a small town, and being unable to break the cycles of abuse forced on you by circumstance. Y'know... all that fun stuff.

I've been trying to beat it into shape for a while but I can't really get it to say what I want it to yet. Dropping the beginning under the cut though because it's dear to me:

It's very soft but CW for mentions of child abuse anyway

The interior of the little roadside farm stand is dark and hot as hell, smelling of dirt and hay and vegetables slowly rotting in their crates. A fly hums over some tomatoes. In the corner a fan makes a halfhearted effort to move the blistering air around. 

It’s Geralt and Eskel’s turn to mind the shop while Gweld, Tristan and Aubry help Vesemir with the day chores. They’re Vesemir’s farmhands much more than his sons and while the old man is kind he’s never gentle and works them accordingly. It’s better, though, than what he left; here he never goes hungry, never goes cold and he gets to shower every day. Best of all though, he met Eskel. Eskel is kind, and beautiful and Geralt loves him with the kind of star-struck twelve-year-old puppy love that is worth its weight in gold. Eskel, for all intents and purposes a sage and ancient fourteen, is the sun his planet orbits around, the steady, reliable center of his universe. If all Geralt ever knows is this one sun-struck summer, this buzzing heat, Eskel and the dirt streaked across one chestnut-tanned cheek, he thinks he’d die the happiest boy in the world.

They have the stereo on, huddled around it pressed closer than the warmth warrants, sharing a carton of fresh blueberries, unwashed and slightly gritty.  Geralt is sweating so badly his shirt is sticking to his back but every now and then his and Eskel’s hands collide or their shoulders brush and Geralt feels like he’s swallowing the sun; some brightness in his chest lighting up like a firefly in the darkness.

“Listen!” Eskel says, eyes lighting up as the drum solo begins, as though this is the first time he’s heard it, as though they haven’t listened to it so many times it’s practically worn a hole in the tape “and then it goes…” 

Geralt isn’t listening to the song, too busy watching the way Eskel mimics the drum line with two outstretched fingers in the air; the roll, the six one-two punches, the thunderclap of the cymbal. His fingers are long and beautiful, scabbed knuckles and all, tips of them stained purple with berry juice that Geralt wants to lick off even though he’s not entirely sure why.

“Something on my face?” Eskel asks. He’s smiling that private smile that he seems to reserve exclusively for Geralt and it makes his cheeks burn. 

“No” he says, looking away quickly “I just…”

A customer wanders in, unknowable beneath her wide-brimmed sunhat, sending them shuffling apart and pretending to look busy. Geralt’s skin is buzzing like he’s just swallowed an entire hive of bees, and his mouth tastes dusty, dry suddenly. He glances at Eskel over his shoulder only to find Eskel looking back at him, dark eyes full of some emotion that Geralt can’t put a name to. 

“Have you ever thought about what we’re gonna do after this?” he asks Eskel that evening as they’re shutting up the chicken coop. 

The sky is turning bruise-colors at the edges, the last rays of the sun striking out gamely over the mountaintops in spears of bright against the dark. Crickets squeal in the long grass and in the patches of shadow at the edges of the forest the fireflies have already begun to make themselves known. Eskel carries the now-empty feed bucket and is drumming his fingers on it in a rhythmic roll that sounds like incoming thunder. 

“Maybe” Eskel says, shrugging, pausing his drumming on the bucket for a moment before rolling into a syncopated tap tap tap rhythm that sounds like rain coming down on the roof of the greenhouse. 

“Do you think we’ll do it together?” 

That gives Eskel pause.

“Maybe” he says again, like a record stuck in a scratch repeating the same words, voice quiet in the dark. 

“Well I’d like that” Geralt says, feeling sure about something for the first time in his life, resolute “We could get a house on the seaside and a drum set for you so you could play….” 

He gets a little tangled up in himself after that, not sure what adulthood is supposed to look like. His experience of most grown ups so far has been acrid smoke and gnawing hunger in his stomach and dark rooms full of too many people who wouldn’t hear him no matter how hard he cried. Eskel, he knows, came from somewhere worse; somewhere that he wakes in the night begging to escape from. Geralt doesn’t want that for them, that re-treading of old patterns or falling into ruts (“it’s about breaking cycles” one of the caseworkers had said to Vesemir once when they’d thought they were alone “these boys are all stuck in it whether they want to be or not. It’s about keeping them out of the shit for as long as you can”); rather, he wants some kind of soft and open brightness that he can feel at the tips of his fingers but can’t manage to name. 

“I’d like that” Eskel says, taking the bucket by the handle properly so he can grab Geralt’s sweaty, grimy hand in his own “I’d really like that”

That night they sleep with the windows open, the dust-hot wind rolling in from the hay fields coating their tongues. As soon as he’s sure Gweld and Aubry are asleep Geralt slips from his own bed and into Eskel’s, shadow quiet. He curls up against Eskel’s side, wrapping one skinny arm across that broad ribcage. Eskel smells of clean soap and fresh laundry, the fabric of his t-shirt soft and worn-in beneath Geralt’s cheek. He has his headphones on and the steady hum of the tape player is a metronomic white noise in the darkness; whir, rewind, whir, rewind as Eskel plays and replays his favorite song.  His hand settles at the small of Geralt’s back, fingers drumming drumming drumming against his spine. 

#my fic

[vampire-scones]

I feel like Henry has a strong opinion when it comes to GMOs and Pesticides and stuff like that. Idk he strikes me as the type of guy who cares and is like really into what GMOs are okay and which ones aren’t and like, if he ever had his own farm away from his dad, he would just try and sell people stuff that he would want to eat himself. That’s my take on Henry ‘Honeybunch’ Bowers for today

#Henry Bowers #I enjoy Bill calling him honey bunch Bowers in the book #but yeah #I just feel like Henry is a farm boy and likes growing stuff #and is good at it #he got that green thumb #and Vic comes over to help #and learns about plants from him #let Henry have his quiet farm life plz #with his pigs #never forget Bip and Bop #bowers gang

[shimmershae]

So.  I have some more thoughts.  Shocking?  Yeah, I know, lol.

Let’s see if I can figure out how to purge what’s inside of my overactive brain and have it make some semblance of sense, shall we?  

Hmm.  

Where to start, where to start?  

Okay.  So I think it’s safe to say that the flashbacks pretty quickly establish that Daryl has essentially been set adrift.  He’s been cast back, in some ways by his own choosing, into a solitary searching life that speaks to his past.  He has no anchor anymore, no touching stone--whether that be Rick, who’s presumed dead, or Carol, who’s chosen by default to leave him behind and try to make a new family in Ezekiel and Henry.  

That’s important.  Because until this season?  Until he really matured and assumed, grudgingly or otherwise, the mantle of leadership of the communities?  

Daryl was a follower.  He took his cues from other stronger personalities.  Other people more quick to voice and own their opinions, right or wrong.  Like Rick.  And Merle before him.  

That’s not to say Daryl hasn’t had anything of value to say or add to the communities or to his relationships.  He has and he did.  Remember back at the Prison how Carol told him he was going to have to live with the love?  Daryl was just beginning to find his voice, so to speak.  He was emerging, even if they were only baby steps at first, from other seemingly more formidable shadows, and learning even then how to be more of a leader that people looked up to even if he was still content to be a follower.  

Being a follower was what he was comfortable with and I’m making some assumptions here, but I’d wager that in his abusive past with his old man, in that household first with Merle then on his own, being a follower and sticking to the safety of the periphery is probably what kept him alive.  Being a follower minimized conflict then, I’m sure.  Being a follower when he met up with and eventually connected with Rick and the rest of Team Family was probably the safest way for him to make emotional connections.  

I’m rambling.  I know it and I’m sorry.  It’s what I do.  Ramble, lol.  

Here.  I’m going to place the rest of this underneath a cut because I got more winding words than I have wind and most of ya’ll have patience.  

With Rick gone, with Carol off trying her damndest to live a fairy tale, Daryl floundered.  For all intents and purposes, he was left without any direction, nobody to take his cues from emotionally or otherwise.  

I mean, he literally made ever-widening circles searching for Rick, didn’t he?  Circles have no end point.  They have no real destination.  Not really.  Daryl essentially lived in a spin cycle of pain and regret and inability to really and truly connect with anybody during those years spent searching for Rick--especially since the person he arguably felt closest to and most comfortable with, Carol, basically decided those past connections Daryl was so desperate to find again were too painful for her and attempted to move on.  

He wasn’t emotionally equipped to or stable enough (perhaps still internally dealing with his anger and angst over his torture and imprisonment by Negan at that point in time) to put in the hard work to reestablish those fraying bonds on his own and the man basically lost the plot.  His world narrowed down to this latest search.  This search for a body.  For closure.  For a new purpose perhaps?  

And you know, the man had to be tired.  In some way or another?  He’s probably been searching his entire life.  It’s kind of what followers do.  They look for meaning outside themselves because they don’t feel like they’re enough.  

So then Dog, in the form of this happy, accepting, affectionate puppy appears out of nowhere.  He’s a welcome distraction and knowing Daryl’s propensity to try to reunite the lost with those they love, he started a new little search.  

That led him to Leah. 

Leah, who was alone.  Like him.  Leah, who knew how to survive.  Like him.  Leah, who was stuck in a place of grief.  Like him.  

Leah, who--and I don’t really feel like I’m going out on too far or precarious limb here considering how many parallels they literally slapped us in the face with during this episode--reminded him of someone he felt he couldn’t have, not even her friendship anymore because by her choosing to ‘be there’ for Ezekiel and Henry and the Kingdom she was always leaving Daryl behind and that’s a pattern we’ve all long suspected has really caused hurt for Daryl even if he’s long ‘accepted’ and dealt with it with stoicism.  

Boy, they really blew the lid off that issue didn’t they?  Oh, it was done rather quietly and in a surprisingly controlled manner, but the hurt it caused?  The tears and emotion it elicited was brought about with an almost surgical precision that stunned Carol, but I digress.  

My point is?  Daryl?  Innate follower that he is?  Daryl had grown accustomed to the human connection he found with Team Family.  He was never 100% comfortable with it but he missed it.  He craved it.  And Rick?  Well, deep down Daryl knew the likelihood of finding his ‘brother’ was minimal.  And with Carol pulling away and putting more and more distance between them--how deep and wide was that river, ya’ll, before the episode was done? when it started off looking like a small trickle of a stream?  how wide was that chasm these two idiots in painfully unspoken love allowed to be formed between them?--essentially the two closest people to him were lost to him, leaving him lost.  

So he stumbles upon this woman who is very reminiscent of people that he’s known.  He’s figured out, even though he keeps trying to buck the trend, that you really can’t make it alone in the world anymore.  And when she shows him some small measure of trust by letting him go?  That part of him that didn’t want to be alone kept drifting back into her sphere.  

Now I’m not going to go so far as saying Daryl fell in love with this Leah.  Because, shipping biases aside?  I really don’t feel like he did.  

Daryl found solace with Leah.  

Companionship.  

Remember another time when Daryl was lost?  When he felt he had failed another member of his family? Lost what he thought was the last of his family?  How alone he was at a crossroads when Joe’s group of Claimers came along?  

I’m not equating Leah with the Claimers in any other way except saying Daryl was in a similar headspace when he met her, okay?  Before anybody goes off on me.  I’m just saying that Leah?  She represented what Daryl felt was his one chance NOT TO BE ALONE.  

Daryl’s emotionally stunted, ya’ll. He’s made great strides, but trauma always seems to regress him.  Thankfully, it seems to regress him less and less as he really and truly matures, but it still has a habit of reverting him back to the Daryl we first met.  The Daryl we can easily see growing up in Merle’s shadow. 

When he threw that damn fish at her door, I literally laughed for ten straight minutes because that was funny as hell.  But honestly?  The more I thought about it, the more it dwelled in my mind?  The sadder it actually made me because here’s a grown man essentially trying to connect with another human being on an adolescent level.  

So much of what we were shown in this episode really just reinforced what I’d already suspected to be true--Daryl Dixon just doesn’t ‘get’ the basics of interpersonal relationships.  At least those that could be perceived as romantic.  For all that Carol mused it was like he had become a man back in Atlanta, during Consumed and their search for Beth?  That man is still very much trying to fumble his way out of the starting gate so far as pursuing a woman in any form or fashion.

This is just my opinion and we all know what they say about those, lol, but Daryl has longed for an even deeper connection with Carol since the Prison.  Maybe even before that. I think at the Farm his eyes were opened to her and he started trying to be a better person to match what he perceived as her goodness.  Before he even knew she wanted one, he was trying to be a man of honor.  Then stuff and thangs happened and shit, like Daryl once told Abe, just never settled.  Carol drifted out of Daryl’s reach because he wasn’t equipped with the emotional tools to really go after what he wanted--her in a deeper, different capacity than he’d ever wanted or asked for before--and shit, ya’ll.  If loneliness is a choice then Daryl Dixon was sick and damn tired of it.  

Do I think there’s even really a choice between Leah and Carol in Daryl’s mind though?  A true choice were he to absolutely, 100% realize and know that Carol’s heart was earmarked for him from the very beginning and that she’s suffering from the same delusions that she’s not good enough or deserving of him?  

Absolutely not.  

Leah knew that even if Daryl never divulged any specifics about Carol.  She knew the answer to her ultimatum before she even made it.  

And that ultimatum, ya’ll. 

Maybe it’s weird, but it put me in mind of when Merle pressed Daryl to make a choice between him and Team Family.  

Merle was blood family but like Carol and others said, he wasn’t good for Daryl.  

Leah might have offered Daryl some solace from his loneliness but ultimately staying isolated with her and not reconnecting with those he identifies as family is just as damaging as Daryl choosing to follow in Merle’s wake again.  Similarly to that situation, Daryl was clearly torn as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  

Between loyalty to family and unspoken love.  

In case there’s any confusion here, the unspoken love I’m talking about is his love for Carol.  He felt something for her back at that Prison.  Fight me.  He knew she’d be hurt by him going back with Merle, but obligation and family loyalty led him to make the decision all the same.  

Still. He knew she’d understand.  And she did, even if his choice hurt her.  

My thought is that this time?  At least initially?  Daryl didn’t completely separate his loyalty to family (searching for Rick) and his unspoken love (for Carol) when he made his decision.  They’re hopelessly entwined because Carol is a little bit of everything to Daryl--friend, family, the woman he loves and has been halfway in love with for so many years.  Initially, he chose the hope that both would come back to him if he just kept searching.  Because searching’s what he does.  From Sophia to Connie, he’s always searched in the hope of bringing the lost back to those that love them.  He’s always searched because nobody searched for him.  

Daryl is the ultimate lost boy who grew to be a man and still feels like he hasn’t been found.  

But how can he be found if the one person he wants to find him keeps running away?  

Daryl didn’t choose Leah.  

Not from his heart.  

Daryl turned back to Leah because he felt Carol slipping away to where he couldn’t follow her.  

If it can even be argued that Daryl chose Leah, it was by default.  Of course, he feels guilty.  Daryl wouldn’t be Daryl without guilt.  He wouldn’t be Carol’s man of honor.  

And he is Carol’s man.  

She may not be in the place to see it--YET--but she’s getting there.  She’s fighting hard against her natural inclination to run.  She’s trying.  She knows what she wants, even if she doesn’t believe she has the hope of getting it.  

Daryl knows what he wants, too.  He knows, once and for all, where he belongs.  He’s stopped searching.  He knows she’s right there.  There’s no more circles.  There’s just a final destination if he can convince the love of his fucking life to stop running from what they both want.  

He may have left that note for Leah, but you can’t convince this viewer that he didn’t write those words for Carol.  

And that’s all I got to say about that.  

For now anyway.  

Omigosh, lovelies.  

So sorry for the emotional word vomit but thank you so much for indulging me even if I did lose my original point somewhere up there, lol.    

#The Walking Dead #Season 10C spoilers #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #Melissa McBride #Norman Reedus #gorgeous people #my precious babies in love #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #my heart

[joshua-flipping-washington]

EllieDina Week- Day 3: Trouble.

Oh boy, this came out much more different than I was expecting. But I hope it reads alright! I'm late as always, apologies.

Rating: Teens and up.

Warnings: Pregnancy talk, nothing too serious. Just thought I'd add that as a warning.

●°○•

After the events that carried out in Seattle, Abby leaving Ellie and Dina battered and bloody on the floor of the theater. Ellie's mind, though her head was pounding with a vengeance. Was only focused on getting to Dina, on making sure that she was alright.

Ellie rolled onto her side with painstaking effort, managing to push herself up onto her knees. She crawls over to Dina, the arm that Abby had broken hanging uselessly at her side. " Dina. " Ellie says in a frantic tone, her voice is thick with emotion and she can taste her own blood as it coats her throat.

Ellie carefully pulls Dina close with the arm that isn't injured, she knows that she shouldn't move her because of the arrow in her shoulder, or the fact that Abby had beat her within an inch of her life. Tears fill Ellie's dull green eyes as she holds Dina close to her chest. " Babe… You're alright. Come on, wake up… Please, I just need you to be okay. "

Ellie's eyes flicker down to stare at Dina's chest, it is faintly rising and falling as she inhales and exhales. She let's out a soft breath of relief at knowing Dina was still breathing,pressing a gentle kiss to Dina's bloody temple.

Ellie's heart ached at knowing that if it hadn't have been for the boy with Abby, Dina could be dead right now. Just like Jesse and Tommy were. They both would be alive right now if it wasn't for Ellie, it was the same with everyone in her life that she cared about. Riley, Tess, Sam, Henry and… Joel. They all ended up getting killed because of her.

She refused to let that happen to Dina, she was going to make sure that she made it. Ellie was going to keep her safe, to the best of her abilities. She was in fact, only human after all.

《 》

It had been about seven months since they had left Seattle, one of the biggest shocks they'd had was finding out that Tommy was in fact, still alive. He was royally fucked, though- In terms of mobility. But he was learning to get along just fine with the help of Maria, and his good friend whiskey.

Ellie and Dina had moved to the outskirts of Jackson, into a small two-story farm house just like Dina had mentioned way back when, on their first day in Seattle. It had a huge yard, which some of the guys from Jackson helped Ellie fence in. And a decent sized barn for their sheep, most of which had comical or pun-y names.

Dina was standing in the kitchen in front of the sink, washing the left over dishes from the night before. Ellie was notoriously known for leaving the dishes soaking over night in the sink, not liking to deal with them in the moment. She hummed softly to herself as she scrubbed a plate, a fond smile making it's way onto her face as Ellie enters the room.

Ellie stepped up behind Dina, and gently wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Her hands rested lightly on the growing bump of Dina's stomach, she was already almost eight months along. Ellie pressed a tender kiss to the side of Dina's head, slowly trailing butterfly kisses down her neck. " Babe, why don't you come and relax upstairs with me for a bit? The doctor did say for you to start taking it easy. "

Dina laughed softly as Ellie pressed close to her, hands resting gently on her baby bump as she wrapped her arms around her. Dina craned her neck slightly as Ellie kissed softly along her neck. But then came the one thing Dina had really began to hate hearing. She sighed heavily, giving a good natured roll of her eyes. " Ellie, I'm fine. Besides, if I didn't do these dishes, they'd just sit here until we have more from dinner tonight, and you know it. "

Ellie snorted sheepishly and she nuzzled her face into the crook of Dina's neck, her breath tickling the other girls skin as she spoke. " Yeah, I can't even lie about it. You know me too well, but come on. How about- I finish off these dishes, and you go upstairs and rest. You've been on your feet all afternoon, Dina. "

Dina let out a reluctant sigh, but as she did she set down the rag she'd been using to clean the dishes with. She turned around in Ellie's embrace and couldn't help but smile at the loving look on Ellie's face. " Alright- I relent, I'll try and relax for a bit. You are such a sap, you do know that, right? "

Ellie couldn't even feign mock hurt at the comment, she knew that it was true. She leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to Dina's lips. " I know, but only a sap for you, babe. Now go- I got this. " Ellie released Dina of her embrace, and gently shooed a laughing Dina out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Dina was more thankful than she was letting on as she walked up the stairs, she had started to feel the beginning of a headache ebbing it's way in. Being pregnant was more of an experience than she could even imagine, turns out you feel gross a lot, your hormones are all over the place, your back aches and because of the baby pressing down on your bladder- You had to pee almost all the time. And pregnancy brain was definitely real.

Dina entered their bedroom and immediately kicked off her boots, relief washing over her as she sank down onto the mattress. " Okay, maybe Ellie was right about relaxing. Yeah, what do you think, huh? " She said softly as she gently rubbed her hand over her stomach, she smiled happily at the light bump against her hand. " I can't wait to meet you, little one. "

Her brown eyes widened slightly at the sudden tightening feeling of her abdomen, she knew that she shouldn't panic, but that was her minds first instinct. " No, no- I'm not ready to meet you yet, it's too early. " She said with a whimper, and then immediately called out for Ellie.

Dina's tone had enough of a panicked edge to it as she called out to Ellie, that she had dropped the final plate she'd been washing on the kitchen floor with a crash, rushing up the stairs and to their room without a second thought. She stood in the doorway, eyes wide with confusion and fear. " Dina? Dina, what's wrong? "

Dina was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes are closed and her hand is resting on her stomach. She opens her eyes with a shuddering laugh, tears glistening on the surface. " I don't know if it's just because I'm panicking, but swear I just had a contraction. "

Ellie stepped into the room and stopped in front of Dina, gently cupping her face. Her eyes were filled with concern, but then the things the doctor had told them and the stuff she'd read in one of the pregnancy books came flooding back to her. " Babe, it's okay. Come on, sit with me. Let's wait and see if the feeling comes back, or gets more intense or close together. "

Dina gave a small nod of her head, moving up towards the middle of the bed. Her mind still racing, the unshed tears threatening to fall. Ellie climbed up onto the bed, and gently pulled Dina into her lap. She gently brushed her fingers through Dina's curls, humming softly. " Just tell me what you feel, I'm thinking it might just be Braxton-Hicks. "

Dina and Ellie sat there for thirty minutes, the tightening coming and going, getting weaker as time went on. " I think that they are done now… " Dina placed her head in her hands, and laughed in disbelief. " I can't believe I forgot that can happen, and I'm the one who's pregnant. "

Ellie kissed Dina's shoulder and gently rubbed her back. " Hey, you have a literal human being growing inside of you. I think you are allowed to forget a thing or two. "

Dina smiled softly at how sweet Ellie could be, when she wanted to be. " Well, I'm glad to have you by my side. I was… Seriously freaking out at the thought of having this baby early. " She turned her torso slightly and pressed her lips to Ellie's.

They soon went to sleep, holding each other close. Dina feeling more at ease knowing that Ellie had her back.

#The Last of Us Part II #elliedina week #ellie x dina #rich the idiot writes #video game photography #video game edit #Sony Interactive Entertainment #Naughty Dog #TLOU2 #Ellie Williams #Dina TLOU2 #I have literally written nothing about pregnancy anything #so hopefully it comes across alright

[lassluna]

Swan’s Hourglass (1/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

Legend Of Zelda AU

AN: I am SO EXCITED to start posting this. This has been in my documents for YEARS and I can’t wait to share what it is become. Thank you SO much @cssns​ for giving me a reason to commit to writing this. Thank you @spartanguard​ for being a fabulous beta and making sense of this thing, it would not be what it is without your fabulous input. Thank you @eastwesthomeisbest​ for creating such an amazing image, I love it to pieces!!!! 

FFN Ao3

Prologue 

“Our story begins not long ago; there was a young man, head to a band of lost boys, thieves of the kingdom. His name was Baelfire. Baelfire was cunning, smart and mysterious. They wanted to explore the unfamiliar land.

One day Baelfire met a young girl on her first adventure outside her parents’ home. She was young and curious and ready to make her own destiny.

After a series of strange events, the girl began traveling with the group as she’d become smitten with Baelfire. Through many adventures, they found old ruins, hoping to make off with treasure. Instead, however, light enveloped the girl, revealing that her lineage wasn’t just sheep farming as she once thought, but that it traced back to a line of legendary heroes known to their time as The Saviors. She was the lost princess prophesied to save her people from a terrible fate.

When her identity was revealed, a wicked witch appeared and carried the princess away from Baelfire as she knew that the Savior was destined to destroy her. Instead she sought to take her power for herself. She used her power to destroy the kingdom many years before.

Baelfire chased after the princess in order to rescue her. He crossed mountains and ocean, slayed terrible beasts in order to be reunited with his True Love. When he finally found her, the princess was not alone as she had been with child when she was taken and bore his son while in captivity.

They used their power to become true heros and slay the Wicked Witch once and for all, and the princess and her infant son were rescued at last. However, during the battle to rescue her, Baelfire sacrificed his life to ensure the safety of his family.

The princess decided to honor his memory and find a new land to restore her kingdom to what it once was, surrounded by her new family of Lost Boys…”

There is a loud sigh coming from a mop of dark hair.

“Come on, Henry? What did you think?” insists a voice. It’s the same voice as the one who told the story. He is tall and skinny, dressed in traditional sailor’s wear with hair a slight shade darker and freckles all over his face.

She always enjoys listening to her friend’s storytelling from a distance. 

“Boring,” came the reply, much to her amusement.

“What? How?” the story teller says again in surprise.

“Johnnn,” Henry groans. “You tell the same story every time,” he says in exasperation. “You don’t even add to it.” He looked up at her from the lower deck as she stood on an upper section watching him. “At least Mom sometimes tells me of Dad’s adventures,” he insists, standing up from where he’d been sitting and stretching. “You were there, shouldn’t you know more than Mom about this?” he asks skeptically. “Mom was captured when all the exciting stuff happened.”

She watched as the man looked up at her, exchanging a careful look with her. She keeps her gaze firm. 

It was a very direct, don't you dare.

“I’m forgetful,” John retorts to her son. 

“You’d forget years of your life?” Henry asks, yet again. “I still don’t buy that.” 

She could tell that Henry was starting to get around John’s story, as he always was. Ever since Henry was a toddler, he’d always been so curious. Now that he was growing up, he’d become desperate for more details, more information, more of anything interesting, especially details of his father.

Her kid was growing up so fast…

“Henry,” she calls out, making him notice her for the first time. She stands overlooking the lower decks. “Aren’t you supposed to be on lookout?” she asks. “You know the Captain wouldn’t like it if her first mate is slacking on the job,” she teases. 

Henry’s eyes light up, all thoughts of the story gone from his head.

Well, not that fast. She muses silently.

“Oh yeah!” he says excitedly, “We’re looking for the Demon Ship,” he reminds her, grabbing John’s hand and darting off towards the edge of the ship. She could hear him rambling about it from the other side of the vessel.

“You know Emma,” says a new voice. Emma had had a suspicion she had been listening too. “You’re going to have to tell him the truth eventually.” Emma didn’t look back at her.

“What I tell my son about his father is my business,” Emma reminds the Captain. “You promised me you’d honor that,” she reminds her. The last thing she needs is someone telling her how to raise her kid. 

“I just think that Henry’s a smart kid and will figure it out. Shouldn’t it come from you and not when Michael and John have conflicting stories?” she presses. Emma turns towards the brunette sea captain, looking her straight in the eyes. Captain Wendy Darling did not waver. 

“We’ve been over this a dozen times Captain,” Emma says as politely as possible. “I will protect Baelfire’s legacy, Henry’s hero until I see fit to tell him otherwise,” He’s her kid, and the last thing she needed was for him to dwell on the past; lord knew she dwelled on it enough.

“I just think—“ But Emma cuts her off.

 “Bae’s already dead; what good will the truth do any of us?” she snaps. Wendy raises a brow.

 “Maybe it would let your son see you less as a damsel and more as a hero, Savior,” Wendy replies with an almost whimsical sound at the word ‘Savior’ and it fills Emma with dread. “Maybe it would let you see yourself that way too,” she adds.

“I am no Savior,” she says sternly, barely resisting another snap. “If I was, Baelfire wouldn’t be dead. He saved us from the Wicked Witch and that’s all I want to hear on the subject,” she says firmly. 

Wendy shrugs slightly, conversation over for now. It’s a common argument for them. It feels like they have it every day. She’s supposed to be some Savior, but she doesn’t feel like one, she never has, even after years free from the Wicked Witch. All Emma’s been was the daughter of a sheep farmer, and after the death of her parents before she met Bae, she was lost. She never meant to save the world; she never meant to be the one destined to find some new land for her people.  

Emma doesn’t want to be the Savior. She wishes she could just hand off the job to someone way more qualified.

Emma watches Wendy look up at the sky, face stern. Emma never really understood why Wendy has been helping her for all these years; at first, it was some obligation to Bae, but yet she’s been talking about telling Henry the truth about his father since Henry was old enough to hear these stories. She doesn’t understand it; Emma would think she’d want to protect his image.

Emma doesn’t think she’ll ever truly understand her. “Besides,” Emma continues, “Shouldn’t you be trying to find a way to avoid this Demon ship Henry keeps talking about?” she asks, still eyeing the brunette.

Henry had taken up talking to other sailors whenever they reached port. At first, he wanted to try to trade some of his treasures for different things, and then it turned into him hunting out stories from dock workers or deckhands. He was always very excitable when it came to adventures so Emma was barely surprised when Michael came to her that first time he caught Henry wandering off to engage in a conversation with a stranger. 

 Wendy takes the change of subject gladly. Wendy rolled her eyes. “There is no Demon Ship,” she insists. “It’s just some pirate gang or something, an urban legend to scare people.” She crosses her arms and she looks insulted by the accusation. 

“Are you sure?” asks a voice from the hull; Emma recognized Michael, slightly pudgier than his younger brother holding the wheel of the ship, looking at Wendy in uncertainty. “What about all those ships that have gone missing?” he asks nervously. “No survivors or ship remains were ever found.”

Wendy sighs in annoyance, but Emma can see it’s barely contained outrage. “We’re going to be fine,” she says again. “These seas are protected,” she reminds them.

Emma raised a brow in disbelief. “Protected?” she asks. Emma didn’t see any royal colors on this piece of the map; she thought this area was uncharted.

“By the Ocean Queen,” Wendy retorts as if it’s obvious.

“Ocean Queen?” Henry asks, being drawn in by the talk of adventure and stories. His eyes lit up. “Who’s she?” he asks. 

“No one’s told you?” Wendy says in disbelief. “She’s a benevolent ancient ruler who protects all sailors in this area of the ocean,” Wendy replies. “Legend has it that she rules with three helpers, but not much more is known.” It makes Henry’s smile widen at the thought. Emma was sure her son’s head was filling up with ideas of meeting this ruler one day.

But at ten years old, Emma was not having it.

“You believe in an Ocean Queen and not a Demon ship?” Emma asks. It seemed a little one sided to her.

Wendy snickers. “Of course I don’t!” she exclaims. “I only believe in the wind and the stars; everything else is just fairy tales,” she says with a laugh. “That’s just an old story my mother used to tell me. She grew up around here,” she informs them. “A little place called Molida Island.”

Henry groans. “Aunt Wendyyyy,” he says with a sigh. “That’s mean.”

Wendy sticks her tongue out at him, looking like the kid Emma had met all those years ago. “That’s what you get for slacking off on your duties, mate.”

Henry sticks his tongue out right back at her. It wasn��t often that Wendy acted her age, only barely being 23 herself; but when she did, it was refreshing to Emma. It reminded her of the fierce Captain who could see them all through any storm in the sea and yet still had a soft side.

Emma’s relaxation was short lived, as before anyone realized it, a dark and thick fog rolled over them.

“What the—“ Wendy cries in surprise. “Everyone get to your stations,” she snaps at her two younger brothers. “We’re taking a detour from this place,” she orders. Emma looks around unsure. She has a dark feeling in her gut. She feels tingling in her soul, but she blocks it out. She doesn’t need more to deal with right now. She just needs her kid.

“Henry?” she calls out. She wanted her son with her while the crew worked on getting them out of here.

“Wind’s dead, Wendy,” John calls out.

“How can the wind be dead when a fog literally just blew in?” she snaps back.

“Mom, look!” she hears Henry say. He was sitting on the edge of the ship pointing out. “A ship.”

Emma looks over and realizes that Henry was right: there was a ship heading towards them and fast. “Henry, get away from there,” she orders, rushing down the steps in her dress. She barely reaches him as the ship descends upon them.

Emma sees its superior size loom overhead and dark wooden hulls cast a shadow upon their smaller vessel. Its ornaments are all a faded ivory color looking almost like bone. It looked like death itself had come for them.

“It’s the Demon Ship!” Emma hears Michael cry out. “These waters really are cursed!”

“It’s just a ship,” Wendy snaps at them. “Emma, Henry get below decks; let us handle things,” she orders. Emma nods in agreement, reaching over to gather Henry’s hand in hers and hide below deck. This was dangerous and Emma needs to keep Henry safe. 

She just wants to take her son where it’s safe.

Henry pulls away from her. “It is the Demon Ship!” he insists. “And there could be a lot of treasure on board.” He reaches up for a stray piece of rigging, much to Emma’s horror.

“Henry!” she shouts, trying to grab him as her son swings over to the ship. “Henry get back over here!” she calls out once he lands safely. She is going to ground him for life for this.

“It’s fine, Mom; it’s—“ Suddenly as if possessed, the fog around them gets much denser and it is hard to see Henry at all. Then she hears a piercing sound that shakes her to her very core.

“Mom!” Henry screams. He screams for her.

“Henry!” Forgetting every ounce of her fear, Emma grabs the rigging, same as Henry had, and attempts to swing over to the other side. She needed to get to her son now.

However, the Demon ship started to move away from them so Emma’s leap of faith lands her clutching to the side of the ship.

“Emma!” She hears a chorus of voices call out in dismay. But she doesn’t care; she does her best to scramble upwards, trying to find something to catch the edge of her feet, anything to just hold on.

She hears a snickering laughter, sees a flash of dark hair and then someone uncurls her fingers from around the edge.

“Henry!” she shouts helplessly as she splashes into the water. Both the sky and the water were dark and grey and she couldn’t seem to make out either the Demon ship or her own ship in her confusion. 

“Henry!” she cries one last time before the water swallowed her whole.

Tagging:

@phiralovesloki​

#Cssns #Captain Swan #Legend of Zelda AU #Swan's Hourglass #captain swan au

[sourwolf-sterek32]

THIS MEANS WAR (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: It’s been nearly two years since the war with the Saviours ended. You and Daryl now ran the Sanctuary together and for once life was starting to look good. However, little did you know, your whole world was going to come crashing down around you very soon and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Jesus’ Twin Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings) 

Chapter 15-

The next four months went by in a haze. You and Daryl moved back to Alexandria with Lydia and the baby boy who you and Daryl named, Paul. It wasn't hard deciding on that name, especially since Daryl suggested it and you immediately said yes. 

You lived in the spare house next door to Aaron and Gracie's home. It was only a two-bedroom house and fairly small, but you didn't need much anyway.

A lot happened during those few months, Eugene had gotten communication up and running between all the communities, so you could talk to each other easily. Hilltop now had a council running it like Alexandria did, but you hadn't step foot back inside that community. You couldn't. It just felt wrong without, Paul. It just wasn't right to be in Hilltop without him around, it was his community. So, Daryl had gotten your quadbike from the community and bought it back to Alexandria for you, which you were grateful for. 

Although a lot had happened during those months, nothing happened at the same time. You hadn't heard or seen any of the whisperers since the day of the pikes and that scared the hell out of you. But, you weren't going to sit around and wait for them to strike first, because you knew they would attack again, it was just a matter of time. So, during those few months you came up with a plan.

You spent those months secretly planning and strategizing against the whisperers and once winter finally arrived, you made your move.

"What are ya doin'?" Daryl asked, walking into the bedroom with baby Paul sitting on his hip and you smiled at the sight before you continued to pack your backpack up with water and supplies.

"Heading to Hilltop. Magna said she found some stuff that belonged to my brother and wants me to come over and figure out what to do with it." You explained, slinging the backpack over your shoulders as you grabbed your bow that was leaning against the bed before you made your way outside and Daryl followed, his eyes widening slightly noticing that your quadbike was already parked in front of the house, loaded with a couple jerry cans of fuel and a large duffle bag.

"Ya need all that fuel just to go to Hilltop?" He asked sceptically, raising his eyebrow at you.

"No, but I'll go straight to Kingdom once I'm done. I'll meet you at Kingdom in a couple days to help transport the community to Hilltop, give some of the kids a ride on my bike so they don't have to walk." You explained and Daryl nodded.

Ezekiel had announced last week that the Kingdom had fallen. The rot and decay had set in, all their pipes had burst flooding most the houses and the houses that didn't get water damage ended up burning due to fuel leaks. The Kingdom was an amazing community, but it didn't stand a chance against the decay and Hilltops council allowed them to seek refuge at their community until they found a new place to stay.

You, Daryl, Lydia, Aaron, Michonne and a group from Hilltop were gonna head over to Kingdom and help them move everything to Hilltop, but there was something you needed to take care of before you did that, but you couldn't tell Daryl.

"Ya want me to come to Hilltop with ya? We can get Rosita to look after Paul a few days earlier." Daryl suggested and you smiled softly at his thoughtfulness and you knew Rosita wouldn't mind. She loved your son to bits and wanted to practice with him before her son or daughter is born in a few months time.

"No, it's okay. Stay here with Lydia, I'll meet you at Kingdom." You replied, walking away from the bike as you pulled Daryl into a hug, being mindful of Paul in his arms as he hugged you back.

"Be careful, alright? If ya want me to come to Hilltop, just call over the radio once ya get there 'n I'll be there within a day." He said, kissing the top of your head and you pulled away slightly before kissing his lips.

"I love you so much, Daryl. Don't ever forget that." You said, resting your forehead against his as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips again.

"I love ya too, baby." He whispered before you leant down and kissed Paul's forehead causing the baby boy to squirm slightly in his sleep and you smiled before looking at Daryl once last time. You took in his features and the half smile plastered on his lips as you stared at him like it was the last time you'd ever see him, because deep down you knew it was a high possibility, but it'd be worth it. If you got take Alpha down and get justice for your twin brother, it would be worth it.

You mounted your quadbike, readjusting your bow over your shoulder as you bought the bike to life, glancing over at Daryl one last time as he gave you a small wave and you nodded back before you rode off towards the large gate of Alexandria.

-

"Lydia, you awake?" You asked, knocking on the young girls bedroom door quietly. You knew she would be awake, she only went to bed five minutes ago, but you figured you should probably knock and ask first to respect the girls privacy, hell you were teenager once, you knew what it was like.

"Yeah, come in." She called out and you slowly opened the door spotting her sitting on the bed with her legs crossed as she fiddled with a small novel in her lap that Daryl had given her a few days ago.

"I need you to tell me everything you know and everything you can remember about where the Whisperers go during winter. They can't stay in this area when the winter hits, it gets too cold." You explained causing the girl to frown slightly at the unexpected question and you sighed walking over to her as you sat down on the edge of her bed. "Please, we both know that this isn't the last we'll be seeing of your mother and I won't let anyone else I care about die to the hands of her and her people-"

"There's a camp we... they always go back to during winter." Lydia said cutting you off, shocking you slightly that she didn't hesitate to tell you this stuff, but you weren't going to complain. "It's about 80 miles east near, you can't miss it. She keeps the herd of walkers milling around in a large canyon or quarry or valley type thing. The herd can only get out the quarry by two dirt tracks that go up, it makes them easier to control especially since it's cold so not many whisperers are needed to be out in that weather to control them." Lydia explained and you sat there, writing it all down on a small note pad as she continued to explain to you how their shift work worked.

You asked her a few more questions and she answered in a lot more detail than you thought she would, but Alpha killed Henry and you were pretty sure any feelings she had towards her mother were long gone now.

The following few weeks, you and Lydia would stay up late as she talked to you about the whisperers winter camp and anything else that she could think of while you wrote it down and started planning out the best route on a map to get to the camp. Lydia, was more than happy to help you and promised not to tell anyone about it, although she seemed confused that you didn't want Daryl to know what you were planning, but she kept quiet in exchange for you to tell her bedtime stories at night.

You'd tell her stories from your life before, stories about growing up in a group home with your brother or working as a construction worker without having any qualifications or even earlier on during the start of all of this with the group at the farm and prison. Lydia really enjoyed your stories and you knew it helped her sleep, which was something you had all struggled with lately.

-

You pulled up to the front of Hilltop's gates, the workers in the vegetable garden all waving happily at you and you waved back while you sat on your bike waiting.

A few minutes later the front gate opened as Magna and Yumiko came out riding on the back of a horse together. Yumiko sitting on the back with her compound bow, similar to yours hung over her back, while Magna sat at the front.

"You two sure about this? It's not too late to pull out, I'd understand." You said, standing up on your quadbike so you were level with the two of them as they stopped the horse beside you and they nodded.

"We're sure. Alpha has to pay for what she did, let's go." Magna responded and with that the three of you took off down the road in the direction of your next pitstop.

It took a couple hours, but you eventually reached Carol's old house that she had taken refuge in for a while back during the war with the Saviours. The house hadn't changed much at all since you last saw it, but you weren't there for the house.

"She should be here soon." You said, turning off your bike as you jumped off and grabbed one of the jerry cans to refill the gas tank while Magna and Yumiko gave the horse some food and water while you waited.

The three of you were leaning against the fence to the house, passing a can of beans amongst each other to eat before the familiar sound of horse hooves hitting the bitumen filled the air and you looked down the road spotting Carol on the horse trotting in your direction.

"Sorry I'm late, couldn't slip away from Ezekiel earlier." She apologised as you threw her a water bottle and she caught it easily taking a sip before throwing it back to you.

"That's fine, did you bring it?" You asked and Carol nodded as she motioned towards the gun case that she had strapped to her back along with her recurve bow and quiver of arrows and you grinned.

"Do you have the bullets? I could only get away with taking two magazines." The older woman said as you began to mount your bike while Magna and Yumiko climbed back onto their horse.

"Sure do. Let's get going, hopefully we'll get there before dark." You said and the three woman all nodded in agreement before you took off down the road. You took the lead while the others followed you down the various roads and cutting through the woods when you needed to.

You had memorised the route on the map, you knew every turn, every bridge, every town, you had memorised everything during the past few months, so you didn't even need to look at the map while you rode.

-

You were walking around the community with Paul sitting in the stroller you had gotten from Michonne who didn't need it anymore. You had just giving your son a bottle an hour ago, but he still refused to go sleep so you decided on taking him for a walk which usually worked to put him to sleep.

"Eugene." You called out, spotting the man walk out the church and turned in your direction once he heard your voice as you quickly walked over to him, pushing the stroller in front of you.

"Hello." The man answered, glancing down at Paul in the stroller smiling softly at the little boy before he looked back towards you, noticing something slightly off. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just need to ask you a favour, but you can't mention it to anyone." You said, glancing around making sure that nobody else was around before you looked back towards the other man. "If I got the materials and supplies needed, can you make me some bullets?"

"I don't see why not. I already make bullets for the other communities, what calibre and how many?" He asked curiously as he fiddled with his long pony tail that was getting longer and longer each time you saw him.

".50 calibre and I need you to make as many as you can in three months." You explained causing him to frown slightly at you and he opened his mouth to say something before you cut him off. "Don't ask questions, just trust me, please. I need it and you can't tell anyone, not even Rosita." You said and Eugene just nodded in agreement before a familiar voice spoke up.

"Did I just hear my name?" Rosita called out causing you to jump slightly because you didn't hear or see her coming as you turned around to find her walking towards the two of you.

"Yeah, I need to ask you something in private." You said, glancing back to Eugene who stood there dumbly for a few seconds before it clicked.

"Right, that's my cue to leave. Have a nice day and I will give you a list of what supplies I'll need." The man said and you nodded watching as he walked off just as Rosita reached your side, waving to the man before she crouched down in front of the stroller and smiled brightly at Paul.

"What's up?" She asked, keeping her voice low so she didn't wake the baby as she stood back up and looked over at you.

"This is going to sound random and probably crazy, but do you still have some of those explosives from the war with the Saviours?" You asked, knowing full well that if there were sticks of dynamite left over that Rosita would know where they were.

The woman stared at your for a few seconds, her hands crossing over her chest as she contemplated what to say before she sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, why?" She asked, looking at you sceptically which was fair enough because the last time a stick of dynamite was used was when Rick blew up the bridge.

"I can't tell you why... It's just... Do you trust me?" You asked, rubbing your face with your hands as you tried to figure out what to say. Eugene never asked any questions, he probably didn't really care and even if he did he must have figured it was better to not know details, but Rosita was different. She liked to know everything, she liked to know what people were doing and that wasn't a bad thing because you were the same. You didn't like being kept in the dark, so you understood the woman's curiosity, but you couldn't tell her about your plan. She was pregnant, she had family, you didn't want to get her caught up in the middle of it.

"Of course, I trust you." She answered instantly, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder as she looked at you in confusion.

"Then trust me on this. I need those explosive for something." You said, biting your lip as you stared at the other woman who sighed, glancing back down at Paul's sleeping form before she nodded.

"I hope I don't regret this, come on." Rosita said nodding for you to follow her as you grabbed the stroller and began to follow her down the street. 

-

You, Carol, Magna and Yumiko rode for the rest of the day and camped in the small cabin that you had located weeks earlier. It had one bedroom and a bathroom, but the rest of the cabin was one big large room with the living area and kitchen in one. You had already set up four sleeping bags along the floor with a pile of blankets sitting the couch in case any of you needed the extra layers.

"You really have planned this." Carol commented as the group of you walked into the cabin as the other women took in the sleeping bags and supplies scattered along the bench and you just nodded, dropping your bow and duffle bag on the table. "Do you think this will work?" Carol asked, shutting the front door behind her.

"Been planning it for over three months, it will work." You reassured, although there was a small voice in the back of your head saying that it might not, that it might all come unravelled if even the slightest detail Lydia had told you wasn't true or even if the whisperers don't go back to their usual winter camp, then all of this was for nothing.

"So, in the morning we leave on foot and head towards the valley, quarry thing? That's where Alpha is keeping her herd, right?" Magna asked as she sat down on the couch, kicking her legs up and resting them over Yumiko's lap and you nodded.

"I know Lydia wouldn't lie to you, but how do you know that Alpha won't change her winter routine?" Yumiko asked and you just shrugged your shoulders. You didn't know. But, she had been doing the same winter routine for the past four years according to Lydia, so you figured it was your best bet.

"I don't, but this is the only thing I could think of because sooner or later the Whisperers will come back even if we agree to her boarders and don't cross them. She will still come back, they always do." You answered and the others all nodded in agreement as you unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out the bundles of arrows you had made.

"How'd you make all these without Daryl getting suspicious?" Carol questioned, staring at all the arrows as you handed her a bundle of the ones with longer shafts that suited her recurve bow better and handed Yumiko the other bundle.

"Whenever he went out hunting, I made them. He's caught me making them a few times, but I'd just say that I broke a few and needed spares." You answered and Carol nodded with an impressed expression because she knew how hard it was to keep secrets from Daryl, he was the most observant person you knew and he could read you like a book. You were kind of shocked you managed to keep him in the dark about this whole plan because you knew if he found out then he would want to come, but you couldn't let him come. You couldn't risk losing him too.

You moved the last bundle of arrows in the bag to the side as you began to pull out the full magazine of .50 calibre bullets for the semi-automatic sniper rifle that Carol had borrowed from Kingdoms armoury.

"I got 10 magazines full of bullets, along with a bunch of loose bullets in this bag since I couldn't find enough magazines. We won't be running out of ammo anytime soon, do you guys remember the plan?" You asked, shoving the magazines into a backpack that you already had inside the cabin so it was easier to carry over your back rather than the duffle bag.

"Yep. You three with your bows and I get the sniper. The whisperers won't know what hit them." Magna responded with a grin as she looked over at the sniper bag leaning against the wall and you smiled at the happy expression on the woman's face before you began getting your sleeping bag ready. 

-

NEXT CHAPTER

-

A/N- Link to Masterlist in bio. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon tag list, if you want to be added just comment below. 

Well as you can tell from this point on I go away from the shows canon and create my own ending to the Whisperers, so stay tuned because it’s about to get interesting. 

Anyway, until next time stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #tom payne #paul rovia

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY LiveThoughts: V8E7

Since I finally have time for it today, lets make sure Im all caught up for the hiatus. 

Before we get fully started, an idea; Its not a war crime if they’re Grimm. Then its just self defense. So break out the napalm, the cluster bombs, the chemical weapons, the fun stuff. Make em regret it, yeah?

And we start off...on a farm. Looks like my moms old farm in South Dakota. Even on Remnant, hay is best used in bales.

Waiiiit. Thats the place the Whale set down isnt it. I see a Sayber running. Ah, and the Atlas military! Surely, the vanguard of a massive force to hold the line! Also Im glad to see a close up of the helmet for once, I want to make my own. Also, the gloves, and the rifle itself. Not sure why it doesnt have a stock, seems kind of silly...

And airships too, so they got some fire support...whats that wall behind them though?

Also it TOOK US 8 FUCKING SEASONS to get a close up of these FUCKING Weapons. 8. FUCKING. SEASONS. Okay maybe more like 5 cause they didnt first appear till 3 or so but come on. Im so picking this shit apart later. 

Pfft, bros got some nerves going on. Come on man, its just some Grimm, you’ll be FINE.

Atlas field harvesters resemble Halo’s JOTUN Farming equipment. As wel as our own. No surprise there.

Alright, bunch of Saybers, not seeing much of a threat here.

Hey, Paladins! Damn, they...look way different than I remember them to be. 

I wont lie, I dont like the Paladin design. Way to much visual noise, I cant tell where anything IS. 

Also that is the most 2D grass I have sever seen in my fucking life. What the hell are they growing here...

Huh, the whale has two sets of teeth. Wait, its just there? And its wpewing out Grimm. So...why isnt the air force firing on it? 

Yeah its not moving, its just raising its head and slamming down and vomiting out more Grimm. Im not sure what the issue is here, just...seal the mouth. 

Oh, huh. Apathys. Let me guess, RTs gonna try and tell us depression is going to kill most of Atlas. Oh for fuck sake. IM NOT IMPRESSED RT. IM REALLY NOT. IM MORE FUCKING ANNOYED THAN ANYTHING

Okay so...I see what this is. Its farm land outside of atlas proper and there’s an additional wall behind them, plus the power lines I guess? Seems like a viable place to make a stand. 

...thats it. Please tell me this is just a single detachment of the Atlas military because there is less firepower here than a NATIONAL GUARD UNIT ASSIGNED TO ONE CITY

Im fairly certain there are more people assigned to ONE UNIT attached to JBLM then I amm seeing here. 

Not to mention this is an OPEN FIELD the Grimm have to run through. This is a literall fucking TURKEY SHOOT. Running across an open field anywhere is a ticket to DYING.

Just ask the poor fucks on D-day.

Also uh...why is everyone in line formation? What is this, fuckin’ 18009s combat Napoleon style?

And did the distance suddenly change, I feel like the whale suddenly got a hell of a lot closer.

Just...I dont get this. This makes no sense. Did Ironwood learn how to deploy forces from a fairy tale book? This is legitimately some fuckin Lord of the Rings shit here.

RIP that one specific trooper hit by that Behemoth though. Dont worry friend, the thing walked next to a Paladin. Its getting its eye blasted out

And cut back to Ironwood. Doing...fuck if I know what.

Staring angrily it seems.

“Dammit, my tactical deployment by line formation and parade ground tactics isnt holding back the Grimm, curses!”

Well MAYBE IF YOUD THOUGHT TO INVEST IN SOME FUCKING AIR SUPPORT...Seriously.

I know people have told me why this is. I understand myself why this is. But it really just...does...not...jibe with me. At all. 

Okay so more details; first, apparently Atlas has a subway. Makes sense, its a big island. Inter-system transits probably a given. Second; Was that Mantis Squad Omega? Some kind of unit maybe...interesting.

 Also I love how this guy just questions Ironwood. Like, bro, if the General says do it, do it.

Hold the fuck up, why is everyone outside? It looks like fuckin’ Cali during our lockdowns...what ever happened to martial law huh?

Also “underground subway stations”. Yes, thats...kind of what a subway IS. I guess maybe they have overhead ones like New York does. Mass transit be weird like that.

I mean HELL the signs on it are almost identical to the ones in NYC too! Even with the colored circles and train cnumbers. 

According to the sign here they’re at Pickens Square Station. 

Oh boy. Ironwood just fed these poor bastards into a meat grinder. Anyone here ever played the Metro game series, or read the books?

Remember the Dark Ones? The Nosallias? Yeah. Tight corridors and monsters only work out well for angry vodka fueled Russians.

Didnt see it very well but I THINK those Mantas had some kind of wing gun. Either thats new, a separate armament setting, or RT forgot what ind of weapons they gave their ships AGAIN.

Cant get the shields back up, yeah, no shit, they DETACHED ONE OF THE FUCKING PILOTS YOU IDIOTS.

Also hah, they arrested Yang, Ren and Jaune. Not surprised.

Beta squads apperently been hitting the whale. ‘Bombs, missiles, we cant make a dent, sir.” ...while Im not surprised by this, I also hear shades of the opening of Halo 2s level Metropolis. “Where’s the rest of your platoon?” “Wasted, sarge. Blew right through us. Rockets, fifty cals, didnt do nothing.”

Honestly they could have SHOWED THAT too. Them just saying it feels like a cop out to me. Take that as you will. But if you want us to see the things hard to kill, show it. 

Not that I figure Atlas’s rockets are much more than Dust in a propellent tank. Not exactly a Hellfire or TOW.

Nice to see proper military talk for...a moment anyway.

Or what I figure RT figures is proper.

Oh so now the whales moving. Okay...huh.

Jaunes commentary is the same as mine. Though I guess the size seems to shift depending.

Ohhh. Its MANTA. As in the gunships. Alright, sure that works. And this guys making a good call. If you cant hit the big one go after the smaller. Of which there seems to be a HELL of a lot. Actually holy fuck that Grimm spew is across like...ahlf the fucking island right now. Time to fuckin torch and burn people.

Ahhhhhh and they get to the proper idea.  If you cant punch it from the outside, hit it from the inside.

I knew a crew...three madmen, names of Keegan, Lahni and Mac. The Hivebusters. Something tells me a Venom bomb would do the trick...if it can rip apart Swarm creatures as big as a Snatcher or a Swarmak and reduce them to green slime, I think it’ll work on Grimm. 

Something tells me RT isnt gonna give em a bomb though. Too obvious.

NEVER MIND. “Science team is putting together a bomb.”

Also I LOVE how Winter’s pupils expand and retract in fear as she realizes what Ironwoods asking her to do.

Awww now shes getting the shakes too.

Salem directing this shit like shes some kind of orchestra leader. I mean it FITS but...I dunno.

Ah so the command deck is directly behind the whale’s glowing nose. Basically inside where the spermacetiy organ would be in a real sperm whale.

What the fuck is Emerald doing there?

Sneaking I guess. Huh. Why’s she sneaking around the whale. Also, huh. guess seeers can get fooled by Emeralds semblance.  Is HE STILL BEATING UP ON OSCAR? Jeez dude. Take a breather.

Honestly if this was TRUE I would be okay with it. Replace the Huntsman with, I dont know, a massively overequipped military for each Kingdom, let them run rampant...stomp the Grimm out or push them back to nonexistence...everyone lives happily ever after

Lets be real here, the idea of the academies? Really really fucking dumb. Its cute. Fairy tale like.

But if theres one thing this show has taught me its that fairy tales SUCK. Reality...tends to be worse.

Ah theres one of those torture hooks they mentioned a few episodes back. Nice of the whale to have a specific interrigation room.

And at last we get some information on how Salem works. Alright so...what happens if you seperate the parts then? Sink one in the ocean, launch one into space.

Sounds like Oz/Oscars telling the fans what we’ve been saying forever, Companion Book be damned; Salem wants to die.

These mind games bore me. Its cute, but I dont like it cause I cant follow that shit. Give me a straight up fight any day, fuck this sublty backroom fuckery

No lies from them both here honestly.

Medical supplies in Atlas seem almost the same as here on earth interestngly. Also, soup. Or...coffee, tea?

Blake with the obvious here. But I mean thats not really saying much cause...well. Not hard to outfight the Atlas military it seems like.  (Long suffering sigh)

Im gonna make a seperate post about my frustrations with that and leave it there. But dont expect me to stop fully complaining about it because everyones gotta have something to bitch about with this show, and I’ll be DAMNED if I start joining the BB whiners.

Good question, Ruby. Might be that YOUR NOT LIVING IN A FAIRY TALE

I’d like to see these people dying in Mantle. I refuse to believe that there isnt SOMEONE in the nation that once brought Remnant to its heel that wont stand and fight. Unless Im wrong about that too...

May backstory? May backstory. Yeah.  Not amazingly complicated but it works. Cant tell if shes Henry though...or was. 

Dramatic lightning flash

Cute you think that Ruby. Theres sides. Always are.

Further proof honestly.

Hazels look of though is amusing. Cant tell if he doesnt believe Oscar, or if his tiny peabrain is runing full bore to think this through.

Coordination between farm boy and professor.

Oh. OHHHH. Plants the seed of doubt in Hazels tiny mind, he uses the last question for himself, sees the truth... Clever, Oscar. Clever.

Hazel peabrain go THUNK

Ah so Mercs going off to Vacuo. Guess that means everyone else is going there next too. Eat that, random Discord person, I called it.

Course, CFVYs there so...maybe we get to see Yats beat up on him.

Oh hi Tyrian. Do you just...randomly roam the halls of the whale waiting to DRAMATICALLY REVEAL YOURSELF and give violent expositon? Im very much okay with that.

Also I love how he just...accepts this. Totally fucking bonkers, totally down with it. 

Oh shit, Tyrian and Mercury going to Vacuo? Damn thats gonna be INTERESTING. I guess Tyrian’ll fit in well enough honestly.

Flying Beringal literally out of the roof. 

I remember back when this season first started and I said those weird bone platforms looked like VTOL launch bays. Guess what? They are.

Merc and Em emotion blah blah DONT CAAARRREEE

Jaune thinking tactically for ONCE IN HIS FUCKING LIFE. An I mean military tactical of course.

Also I like how the Aces say they dont let emotions cloud their shit WHEN THEYVE BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME.

This ENTIRE PLANET is emotionally run. Thats why the Grimm are such an issue! Makes small note to make Remnant Adeptus Mechanicus cult

Seriously though...

I wont lie though, Hare isnt wrong. Wonder what happened to that Tortuga guy. Tyrian, is my guess. Love how Ren interrupts the moment they almost mention Clovers name.

Expendable, yes. Replacable, no. You should have a talk with squadron leader Grey from Star Wars Squadrons Ren

ANNNNDDD SEMBLANCE EVOLUTION. Or the edibles just kicked in.

This is cool and all but its really fucking dumb and hamfisted. Explain all you want. Mention emotions all you want.

The Aces are fucking huntsmen. HUNTSMEN. FUCKING. SUCK. They always have. Its a dumb idea. Yes, lets stop the hordes of monsters invading this world BY SENDING IN SINGLE OPERATIVES WITH FUCKING MELEE WEAPONS

I’ll make this clear to you, Ren, right here and now. If you faced a REAL elites, you wouldnt have stood a chance. Nor would RWBY. Their bodies would have been three-shot from 20 meters out with a breach and clear and stacked against the wall like cords of wood, one final shot to the dome to make dead sure they were down. None of this stupid flipping and acrobatic crap, none of this clashing weapons and Dust and semblances...no. 

You’d be dead before you knew they were there and they would move on. You’d just be another body to the pile, one more faceless corpse to add to their kill count. A meatgrinder in human form. 

Professionals. Dont. Lose. AND THE ACES ARE NOT PROFESSIONALS!

Because thats not what RWBYs about, never has been.  And that is what annoys me slightly. That and the fact I cant distangle what I know of other universes and our own from RWBY’s. Its hard to hold a universe on its own when everything they make points towards it being like ours, but they change it when they see fit. 

I feel like thats bad writing.

Hehehe. Winter touched Elms boob.

Glad to know that Winters got her priorities right. Course, that bomb probably aint gonna do shit cause its Dust based.

...again, hoping its a chemical weapon...

Wait, the Atlas forces from earlier are STILL FIGHTING? Damn, these Grimm must suck if they couldnt wipe them out in that little time...

Also I cant tell if its getting dark cause of the storm or if its the dawn of the next day.  Or did...they shift time around? I lost track. I SWORE the sun was setting the last time we saw everything.

Also return of the shitty 3D grass...

Marrows gonna defect.

Awww poor Winters got emotions. HEY MAYBE DONT SEND A MENSTRATING WOMAN OUT ON A FIELD OP, ATLAS!

So according to May there’s still front lines. Cool. 

AYYY ITS KLIEN! HES BACK

Oh, I guess hes a doctor too. Oh he MAD.

Ayyy Whitleys being USEFUL for fucking once in his shitty life.

Shes gonna hug him isnt she.

CALLED IT. For fuck sake...whatever. Cute. But whatever.

Oh annnnddd now Grimmquake?

No. It stopped...Bolide?

No. PENNY.

Annnnddd shes leaking coolant. And sparking. And dead.

RIP Penny.

The concept art of the beached whale looks so fucking silly. Seriously, just...detach the whole section there. Drop the fucking thing. 

Oh well.

And thats it for almost two months! Be prepared for me to BULLSHIT MY WAY THROUGH ALL OF IT and continue on with my military fanwank because THATS HOW IM SURVIVING 2020!

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby v8 #spoilers

[creepyalienghost]

People of creation 3

The three of them woke up one by one a bit later then the first day since they would be interviewing Grant Cohen after breakfast and once it was time Each of them got dressed and brush there teeth then headed out to the eating are together. On there way, Shawn and Norman notice Henry was caring there weird Bible that and looked at each other. Then Norman shrugged it off thinking it’s just for the project.

They arrived at the eating area. Again the cooks were placing dishes of yummy looking food and the other people were coming to take there place at the table. They three did the same and sat down at there same spots as last time. Henry beside Joey, Norman next to Sammy and grant sitting beside Norman. Once the table was sat and most people were there at the table, Henry turned to Joey. “May I pray again?”

Joey looked at Henry with a proud smile and nodded “yes Henry. You may.” Everyone but Shawn bows there heads and listens to Henry’s pray. He glances around the table looking at each face for grant but he didn’t see him anywhere. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this place and what grant meant last night. But kept it to himself.

Henry finishes his prayer and the table became Active with life. Food was quickly disappearing from the trays and bowls, talking and laughing was herd and belly’s began to be filled up, hell some was even singing as they gathered food. Shawn looks around at how happy everyone is and thinks he might had been wrong about this place. This could be the most happy place on the planet. But still, where was Grant?

Norman glances down beside him at Sammy who was picking at his waffle and not really eating. He told him all about the punish Joey did to him but he never told him what else goes on here. He knew there was something bad here, like the other husband missing but he knew Sammy couldn’t tell him ether.

Sammy glances up at him for a moment before looking at Joey. Norman glances at Joey as well and watched him talk to Henry, before looking back down as his food and lacing his fingers With Sammy’s under the table. Sammy didn’t hesitate or push his hand away. He wrapped his hand around Norman’s. Norman rubbed his palm with his thumb as they both ate.

Once everyone was finish with there food and Joey gave the all right, everyone got up and left to do there duty or have fun. Henry, Norman and Shawn went to find a good spot for Grants interview. After a few different places like the Church, farm and pound. They decided to have this at a tree with a swing on it.

Norman started to sit up the camera with the help of Shawn and Henry wrote the questions he thought was the best. As the camera was nearly ready Joey drew arrived there followed by Sammy Lawrence. “Hello boys.” Joey said. “There’s been a change. My husband Grant is a little busy right now.” Shawn focused on Joey more now but he didn’t say anything. It could still be nothing. “Instead Sammy will take his place.” Joey continues, nudging Sammy closer to them.

Shawn and Norman looked at each other then at Henry, who only shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Sure!” Henry agreed. “Let’s get started.”

Sammy stepped up to the swing and sat on it, facing the camera and Norman. They made eye contact for a moment before Sammy looked at away, his cheeks going pink. Henry came up beside Sammy and gave the Signal to Norman.

Norman counted down with his fingers to one and pressed Record. “Hello! This is interview two for our project for film class! I’m Henry stain. These two are my Partners! Norman Polk and Shawn Flynn!” Henry gave them a moment each before turning to Sammy. “Our project is the people of creation group. I’m here with one of the leaders husbands. please state your name.”

Sammy looked up at the camera. “Hi..my name is Sammy. Sammy Lawrence.” He smiled a cute smile for the camera even though he was stiff. Joey was off to the side watching.

Henry smiled as well. “Well Sammy.” He replied. “I’m sure many wonder why people join these kinds of things.” He turned away from the camera, to Sammy. “So why did you join the people of creation?”

“Well Henry...it’s hard to talk about..” Sammy glances down at the ground. “I didn’t grow up in a loving home...my brother hated me... my parents beat him weekly and starved me...and when I was 14 I-I ran away.” Sammy blinked, trying to stop the tears from spilling. “And then a few weeks of being on the street these people were promoting there group. There was a place for everyone there. There was a family that wanted me here. So I joined.” He wiped his tears away. “This is my family here.”

“That’s touching” Henry replied after giving a few moments of silence. “I’m glad you found a place for you Sammy.”

“Thank you Henry.” Sammy gave him a smile that Norman knew was fake.

Henry nodded. “Alright. If it’s alright with you, let move on to the next question. Joey told us everyone has a purpose here. So what is it that you do here? What’s your purpose here?”

This made Sammy really smile. “My purpose here is playing one of the Instruments like a drum or guitar for things like the festivals and for the entertainment. People really love to dance and sing around here.” Sammy laughs adorably.

Henry chuckles softly as well. “That’s great to hear! Music truly does make people happy.” He replied and Sammy nodded agreeing. “Now. On to the third question.” Henry looked at his list of questions and read number three. “Are you happy living here?”

Norman saw it. No one else seem to see it besides Norman. Maybe because he knew Joey fucked up Sammys ankle but he saw that flash of fear that came across Sammy’s face for one second then back to his calm face. Norman glances over at Joey and notice how hard Joey was watching him. He knew then his answer was a lie.

Sammy nodded. “Of course I’m happy here! I have a family that loves me for who I am here. I have a beautiful and kind husband that loves me lots. I have fun and shelter and music. This place is the definition of happiness.” He glances at Joey for a second then back at the camera.

The interview was wrapped up after a few other questions. Joey came over a quietly talked to Sammy from far enough away where Norman couldn’t hear but he was watching them as he took down his camera. Sammy nodded to Joey a few times then they kissed and parted ways, Joey going to Henry and leaving together soon after.

Norman looked around for Shawn to help bring the stuff back to there house but he was already gone as well. “I can help..if you need me to...” Sammy limped as he steeped up.

“You sure?” Norman asked him.

“Yes.” Sammy nodded and grabbed one of the bags from Norman “I’m sure.” Norman grabbed the other bad and together they went to the house. Norman made sure to go slow for Sammy’s ankle and to catch him when he falls.

Shawn had snuck away from his group to find out what happened to Grant, if anything. His gut was telling him that there was something wrong with this place. He usually never believed all that hippy stuff but he hasn’t seen Grant yet today. And with what happened last night he felt like something is up so he decided to go find grant.

His plan was to first look around Joey house, if it was empty. When he got there he looked around for anyone before Checking the door and finding it unlocked. He opened it and stepped in. “Hello?” He called out to see if anyone was there. After a few seconds of nothing he fully came into the kitchen and closed the door.

Shawn looked around his surroundings and spotted the knives in the corner. He walked to them and pulled out the biggest and sharpest one. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to him without a fight.

He clutched the knife in his hand and walked to the living room but stopped at a basement door. He didn’t want to go down there but he also wanting to get the worst part over with. The room that could trap him if someone came back. Shawn opened the creaking basement door, holding his breath then flipped on the light switch and headed down. “Grant? You down here?” He took slow steps down the stairs, until half way down, Where he saw the body of Grant all bloody and bruise. “Grant!” he yelled and ran down the rest of the stair and to him, falling onto his knees and checking signs for life. Luckily he found a plus and breath a sign of relief.

Grant morned in pain as he opened his eyes to see who was here. “S-shawn?...what..” he moved a bit before giving up from pain. “ what are you d-doing here?..”

“I came to look for you Grant. You wasn’t there for breakfast and didn’t come to the interview..”Shawn responded. “I..I felt like something was wrong..turns out I was right...” He brushed Grants hair away from his face and his heart broke as his purple face. “..who..did this to you...?”

Grant didn’t want to say out of fear of getting another beaten. But there was no getting out of this now. “J-Joey..h-he beats a-and tortures us. The ones who k-know what’s the t-truth about this place...about Joey.” He was now crying from pain and fear.

Shawn sat down beside him and let Grants head rest on his lap. “What’s the truth Grant? Tell me?”

Grant turned to Shawn. “The t-truth is Joey is insane. H-he was to keep people here against there w-wills. People who truly with him will obey and do everything t-there told...they will k-keep you here if told..”

Shawn looked down at him with wide eyes. Man. His stomach had dropped with what Grant told him. “Grant..How do we get out of here grant..?”

———-

After spending a few hours talking about his life on the outside and Sammy’s life here while giving him an ankle massage to help him, Sammy had to leave so no one would expect anything between them. Norman took this opportunity to find Henry. He hasn’t seen him much in the pass few days and knowing he’s with Joey made him uneasy.

Norman made his way around the grounds of this place looking for Henry for a good 20 minutes before checking the buildings. He first looked in the barn where many people were feeding or brushing the animals there, but no sight of Henry. He walked out of the barn and headed for the next place, the Church.

He got there and opened the doors quietly, sneaking inside and closing them again quietly. Norman herd talking from inside the main room and stayed in the shadows. He Joey drew standing over his friend as he reads from the book he saw Earlier in Henry’s arms. Henry was sitting next to him, looking really out of it. This freaked out Norman but he stayed there Silently, listening to what was Joey was saying.

The things that Joey was talking about frighten Norman more and made his blood ran cold. Things like everyone was lost but joining them would mean you found your way, or saying your friends will lead you to Astray. Don’t listen to them and even telling him that Joey can never be wrong and to always obey him no matter how he feels.

Norman has enough of hearing this. He needed to go find Shawn and tell him what was going on between Henry and Joey and what he knew from Sammy. They needed to leave this ..cult behind. He turns away to quietly snuck out of the church and Started searching for Shawn.

After a while of looking, they both ran into each other behind a house. “Norman! I been looking for you everywhere! We got to get out of here!” Shawn whisper yelled. “With Grant!”

Norman was confused. “Wait. I was looking for you to tell you the same?” He replied Worried. “What happen? What did you see, Shawn?!”

After a few minutes of them telling each other what they seen and what was told to them they both concluded that they were leaving tonight and they were taking Grant and Sammy with them.

After they came up with a plan to escape with the two they both went back to there friends to explain what was going to happen tonight.

——-

As the night approached Norman and Shawn acted normal around Henry to make sure he didn’t expect anything. They hated leaving him behind but they figured he was already brainwashed into staying and they couldn’t risk telling him there plans.

Once it was time to meet behind the barn they both slowly left there rooms so Henry didn’t hear them. They also left most of there things behind so they could be quicker and have a smoother escape. Norman and Shawn both went slowly down the stairs so it wouldn’t creak beneath there Weight then Shawn turned and open the door, walking out with Norman and closing it.

They made there way to the barn in the shadows around them and dodging the guards there. They arrived there, behind the barn Norman automatically gotten a bad feeling. The two wasn’t there waiting for them like planned. Shawn must of felt the alarming feeling in his gut as well because he turn to Norman with wild eyes. “Something’s wrong-“

And before the two knew it several guards were on them.

Shawn was slammed in the barn wall face first and had his arms Yanked behind them. Somebody tied them tightly with rope. While Norman put up more of a fight with the five guards. He threw punches, and shoved them off, he even head butted one but once the others joined it they over powered Norman and tied his hands behind his back.

The guards grabbed them by there arms and dragged them kicking and squirming all the way down to the church. Two people opened the door for the guards to drag them inside. The church was packed. Everyone from the cult was there and watching the two being dragged in. Henry as well.

Shawn looked around and saw grant was sitting in the front row. He wouldn’t even look at him. He just stared at the ground. Norman saw Sammy standing next to Joey. He looked so sad a guilty. He made eye contact with Norman for a split second and he could see it all. The bruises on his chest and eye, the sorry expression and the hopelessness.

The guards got to the front then shoved both Norman and Shawn onto there knees and held them there. Everyone become dead silent as Joey steps closer to them and glares. “I invited you boys to make a documentary on us so the would can see and join us and you been snooping around, braking into my house, poison the minds of my husbands and we’re going to kidnaped them?!”

Shawn shakes his head and yelled at Joey. “No! They don’t want to be here! Your forced then to-“

“silence!” Joey hissed Back. “You will

Not speak to me like that!” He ordered. “I’m the leader! And you both deserve a punishment for your sins!” Joey went back stage as the guards turn Shawn and Norman around and ripped there shirts from the back. They struggled against the guards but there was to many.

Joey walked back on stage with a long whip in his hand and turned to Henry. “Henry dear. Would you do the honors?” He held out the whip to Henry.

Henry hesitated there for a moment thinking. He was asking him to harm his friends. But at the same time he wanted..needed to obey Joey. He ended up getting up and going to Joey, taking the whip. “ I’d be honored to sir.” He bowed to Joey.

“Henry!” Shawn was starting to panic as he made his way around the two guys being held down. “Henry! Come on! W-where you friends!!”

Norman agreed. “Ya! Come on man! You don’t have to listen to this Monster!”

“Hey!” Henry yelled at them. “This monster your talking about is helping me and many other people!!” He replied the raised the whip in the air and bring it down on Shawn back.

Sammy had to stand there as his new friends screamed in pain. He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to fight agents Joey. He hated that he told there the plan. He was so weak and pathetic at lying and holding something from Joey. The tears fell down his cheeks as he watches on, knowing they this was all his fault. He was guilty.

Grant on the other hand couldn’t watch this happen. He wish he could cover his ears to block the sound of there horrible screams but he couldn’t. He had to listen to them. Joey wanted that power over everyone here. To know you can not leave this place. Ever.

Joey smiled a wicked smile as he watched his new recruit doing his bitten. The screams he herd from them were like music to him. He loved the power he felt as he looked around the crowd and saw the fear in there eyes and shook on there faces. He loves that Susie is to naïve and believes him. He loves that grant is to weak to fight him. he loves that Sammy just crumbles in his hands and tells him what he knows. He loves being the leader

———

What’s going to happen next?

#bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #joey drew #henry stein #shawn flynn #grant cohen #norman polk

[justanoutlawfic]

Happy Birthday, Emma

Summary: David and Snow celebrate Emma's birthday, even though she is not with them.

Somehow this prompt submitted to me on CuriousCat: "playful/flirty Snow and Charming "That's not very charming, Charming"" Lead to angst...and I don't even know how...here ya go. Takes place during the Missing Year. 

Also on AO3

It was a hard day for the both of them. October 22nd. If they were in Storybrooke, David would have baked a cake. Snow would have decorated the loft with streamers and corny stuff that probably would have made Emma roll her eyes. They would have thrown her a party if she had been okay with it, but also would have been just fine having something at home with them, Henry and whoever else she wanted to invite.

 Instead, they were back in the Enchanted Forest and Emma was off, who knew where. Her memories were erased. Once again, she thought she was an orphan abandoned on the side of the road. She had Henry with her, at least. Snow and David knew that as long as he was with her, she had to be safe. Regina wouldn’t allow anything else. And yet...they weren’t okay.

 David could tell Snow was trying to take her mind off of things. It was the way she always did when things got rough. With the first curse, she wanted to throw balls and put on a brave face. She had been doing the exact same ever since they had been transported back to the Enchanted Forest. To those that didn’t know her, it could seem like she didn’t care. Especially since they announced their pregnancy.

 He did know his wife, however. She was breaking inside. It was how she had been trained to do not only as a princess, but as a person that had been through so much. If Snow White cried each time a personal crisis came her way…she’d never stop.

 David was one of the few that knew how to help her through, even when she wasn’t showing that she needed it.

 Winter was coming early to the forest, which meant snow had begun to fall. The kingdom’s grounds were covered in a thick white blanket, which brought everyone some joy. Snow had decided she would throw yet another ball to celebrate the season. A ball wouldn’t distract anyone from Zelena or their new situation. It also wasn’t going to distract Snow from how she was really feeling.

 David walked into his wife’s office, his furs pulled over him and hers in hand. She was busy writing something at her desk. “Darling.”

She looked up, softly smiling. It didn’t reach the eyes. “Yes?”

“How about a walk?”

“I have to get these to the cooks by tonight…”

“They can wait.” He extended the fur towards her. “Let’s go.”

 Snow hesitated looking from it, back up to him. She finally stood, placing a hand on her growing bump. He helped her into her jacket before leading her down the stairs. Once they were outside, he decided the garden was the best place for them. There weren’t many flowers outside the snowbells, but it was still a majestic place. Snow’s arm was meekly linked through his own as she ran her finger over the petals of the flower that shared her name.

 “Man, snow sure is wet,” he teased.

She playfully rolled her eyes. Every winter since they met, he told her the same joke and it never failed to make her smile. “That's not very charming, Charming.”

“Luckily for you, I’m just a crude farm boy.” He laced his fingers through her own and swung their hands. “So, another ball?”

“It’s tradition, the first snow has fallen.”

“Yes, but we just threw one for the Harvest a few weeks ago. And you’re quite busy preparing for this little one’s arrival.” He placed his free hand over her bump, giving enough time to feel the kick. A small smile fell across his lips. “You’re very busy.”

Snow shrugged. “I like to keep it that way.”

“You can relax a bit, you know. We’ll hold our annual yuletide festival in a few weeks and everyone will enjoy it.”

“I need to do this, David.”

 David watched as her eyes focused on a particular snowbell, rather than him. She brushed some flakes off of it, trying to perfect it.

 “It’s her birthday,” he whispered.

Snow paused. “I know.”

“It’s her birthday and you haven’t even said her name.”

“Saying it won’t make me feel any better.” Her voice is sad and it breaks his heart. He wants to give in, change the subject. That won’t help, though. David knows they have to push through. “It won’t make her magically appear.”

“Maybe not.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “But it will keep her memory alive. It’ll make her easier to talk about…especially when the little one comes. Don’t we want he…or she,” he reminded himself it could be another girl. “To know about their big sister?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then saying her name is the first step.”

 The garden was quiet. Snow wasn’t fussing over the flower anymore, and instead stared forward at the woods ahead.

“You know, she loved romantic comedies. She wouldn’t admit it, but they were her kryptonite.”

David chuckled. “I didn’t know that.”

“We would watch them, under the curse. She loved grilled cheese and onion rings, with hot chocolate. Always had to have cinnamon.”

“A love she in no doubt got from you.”

“She told me that she had picked her last name, she wasn’t given it by her adoptive family.” David tilted his head. He had assumed the family that had given her up at age three had ben the Swans. “Yup.”

“She really is quite something. I feel like we barely got to know her and yet…she said so much with her eyes.”

“She really did.”

 Snow let out a deep breath. A single tear fell down her cheek and David caught it with his thumb before it could reach her chin.

 “Happy birthday, Emma Ruth Swan,” she whispered. “We love you.”

David nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yes, we do.”

#snowing #snow white #david charming #ouat #once upon a time

[weaselbeaselpants]

Rewrite challenge: #10 and #19

#10 The Black Cauldron

Oh poor, poor Black Cauldron. All the “lackluster” Disney films (besides Chicken Little, that one sucks) I feel sad. Katzenberg vivisecting the film didn’t help matters, but the big problem is the world building in my eye.

Prydain feels so underpopulated in the film. I don’t remember any locations with humans in it that weren’t Horned King’s castle or the farm where Taran lives. This is a fantasy world! Where is everybody!? The world building affects our characters too because we don’t know anything about them besides them being a hero or a villain.

The Horned King is in DESPERATE need of a backstory. I’m not too big on Lord of the Rings, but I know that Sauron is connected to the One Ring which is why he’s trying to get it back and we have a pretty good idea what will happen if he gets it back and why everyone else wants it for there own. The motives the Horned King has for finding the Black Cauldron are clear: he wants to bring back an army of the dead…but…why? To rule? To fight? He mentions in the end that his army is moments away from victory. Is he just out to start a zombie apocalypse? What will having an army of the dead accomplish for him? Where’s the profit? Was this somehow explained in the book better? I don’t think so since from what I’ve read the Horned King is a composite character of two villains from the books.

My friend Amelia has the right idea of making Horned King tied to Prydain’s history. My version is a bit though. I’d rewrite the story so that he is the “dead” king whom Taran’s sword once belonged to. He sought out the Black Cauldron but it backfired and he now seeks it to bring back the army that he killed and rule again. After what’s probably been hundreds of years of exposure to black magic, he’s basically rotted from the inside out and his sanity has gone, as he’s now under the delirious impression that Prydain is just waiting to have it’s ruler back when in reality the country has moved on.

That’s another thing too! Is Prydain under-populated because of a war or something, one not specifically tied to the Horned King? That would be interesting. The rest of the world fears The Horned King of course but they don’t consider him much of a threat to their needs. Taran can be one of those people who’s more interested in being a soldier than an apprentice and pig keeper. Maybe the Horned-King-before-he-was-Horned-King started a war or conflict of it’s own centuries past and Taran and co. don’t find out until later.

You had the chance to make the Horned King a real bawss of a villain. Not a sympathetic one, just one with clearer motives and a horrible history. He could be like Sauron/Golem/The White Walkers all together but instead he’s just “the guy who’s gonna use this thing to do this other thing”.

But Horned King is at least interesting. Taran and Eilonwy are boring and it has nothing to do with them being clichéd good-guy hero kids (though I admit, a Black Cauldron starring Fflewddur does sound more unique). I kinda though Taran was gonna be more interesting cause when the film starts he’s all like “yeah I wanna fight the Horned King and be a hero” but the minute Hen-wen is stolen he remembers that he’s just a scared boy. When he finds himself in the Horned King’s castle and has to make Hen-wen use her vision he’s immediately like “I wanna go home nevermind!” I think it’d be more interesting if, once Hen-wen was safe, he was like “fts I’m going home” and wanted to nothing to do with the Horned King or the Black Cauldron but gets roped back in because Gurgi guilt trips him or something. Make him a reluctant hero who looses his wide-eyed wonder of the world but gains real confidence and strength. When he’s about to sacrifice himself to the cauldron it’s not really earned. It feels like he’s doing it because…he’s the hero.

Much as I hate Doug Walker now I remember his Disneycember from way back when mentioning how Eilonwy is a princess but of a kingdom we never see. We should really see that kingdom. There are two ways you could go with this: Make her an actual scullery maid disguised as a princess as a decoy to escort the weird light-thing away from Horned King, since that’s why he captured her in the first place – much like how Taran got roped into all this with Hen-wen; or make her the princess of Prydain and connect her with the going’s on of the outside world that don’t involve the Horned King. Like Taran, she’s also just looking to safely get away, expect once she learns of the Horned King’s whole plan and knows there’s gonna be casualties, she’s all “we gotta stop him!” and springs into action.

In both cases I think she could be a little more feisty – pissed and rage driven to be kidnapped or held prisoner for something that doesn’t even involve her. Make her a no-nonsense girl who has less tolerance for Gurgi and Fflewddur than Taran. Maybe she’s the one whose all like ‘Ima jump in the cauldron’ in the endbut Taran stops her and reminds her that she, like him, is just a kid. Also make her ball of light more connected to the overall story and world of Prydain as well. Something needs to be done with her because, as is, you can cut her out of the movie and nothing would be lost.

Also fix Gurgi’s voice. He’d be a fine character if he weren’t so hard to understand.

…that’s all I got! If it isn’t obvious I haven’t read the Prydain books to know what stuff apparently HAD to stay in despite the filmmakers already taking liberties with the source material. I don’t think I’m the right person to revamp this one as outside of Game of Thrones and Star Wars (it counts) I’m not a fan of high-end Euro-centric fantasy stories. If the movie is being remade than it better be done by someone who knows, likes, and is talented within that genre. Hire the Game of Thrones folks or someone who’s not Peter Jackson cause Peter Jackson’s lost his mind. IDK. Let poor Black Cauldron spread its wings and find it’s home rather than being a victim of cuts from a studio going through growing pains.

#19 The Book of Henry

If you’ve seen Folding Ideas video on it, you’ll know how much of a mary-sue Henry is and how badly this movie handles themes, tone, and morals. It seems like a fanfic written by a future rampage killer who doesn’t understand what about Henry’s actions are “bad”, and how NO ONE in the world has the solution to the problem except him. In a good movie, someone resorting to killing a child-predator as the only option could make a good story - it just has to have a little thing called consequences to it! No story that has implied child rape in it ends with happy goody-goody Butterfly #1 cliffnotes.

While I don’t watch him anymore, I remember Brad Jones made a really good point in his Midnight Screenings of that movie. That being: what if Henry was wrong about Glen, the adopted father. What if this was a misunderstanding and this kid was a psychopath. It would make for a good purposeful tonal whiplash. So here’s my rewrite:

Henry is the eldest, favorite child of a hands-off single mother Susan. Henry prides himself on the lie Susan tells him that he is the real provider of the house. He is mean to Susan (who takes it and says she deserves it) and lonely school cause his attitude isolates him from peers - though he thinks he’s too good for them anyway. Henry begins to grow interested in his teenage neighbor Christina after he hears her screaming in the middle of the night. He comes to believe that her step-father, Glen, is abusing Christina. He stalks the two of them and writes hundreds of notes and tapes about their house and his understanding of their living situation - that Christina’s mother is out of state and Glen is a kind of passive aggressive police chief who doesn’t get along with Christina in public.

Then Henry dies. Not by a tumor. In a freak accident.

Susan goes mad with grief while her remaining son Peter tries to cheer her up. She comes across Henry’s many notes on Glen and Christina. Susan does her own investigation and comes to the same conclusion that Henry did about Christina being abused and, through misguided encouragement from Peter, decides to kill Glen like Henry intended to do. 

Glen meanwhile tries to be a good neighbor by helping the grieving Susan anyway he can. He allows her to watch Christina while he’s at work. Susan, Peter, and Christina bond it up while Susan uses their visits to plan out Glen’s murder. Christina begins to feel more confident and comfortable with herself and even agrees to drive Peter to his school talent show. That same night, Glen is home alone after a long week of work and is unaware that Susan is setting up a sniper riffle from her porch. Before she can shoot, however, Christina comes home and stops Susan in the nick of time. Glen comes out when he hears the scuffle and Susan screams about all the evidence she and Henry have stacked up against Glen and what she was going to do. Distraught, Christina runs inside crying. Glen calls the police on Susan for attempted murder and assault on a minor. As they wait for the cops, Glen tells Susan the real story Henry was not privy to:

Christina was abused - by her biological father, whom her mother is currently battling in a nasty court case. Glen has been left to care for the traumatized Christina. What Henry thought was rape one night was actually Christina having an episode in which she almost killed herself before Glen got home and stopped her. Glen fully admits to not knowing how to take care of children and that Christina wears him out, but chastises Susan for trying to “save” Christina without doing the right thing and contacting child protective services. Susan, looking deeper into Henry’s notes, finds that Henry disliked Glen after he pulled him over one night for walking alone to the grocery store - Henry was channeling his desire to kill Glen through this false-fantasy of saving Christina.

Susan goes to jail. At the court house Christina calls Susan out for only caring about her because of Henry and trivializing her abuse as a means to kill her Step-dad. She even testifies against Susan in court showing her newfound confidence and will to get through life and confesses to Glen that she’s almost grateful to Susan for inexplicably helping her heal. She also pities Susan, who now has to live with the fact that she loved Henry as an ideal son and not for what he actually was - a trait that probably led to Henry’s sociopathic behavior. Christina wishes Peter well as he’s taken into foster care and promises him that things will get better.

#I'm a bad writer giving writing advice NYAAAH #rewrite challenge #the black cauldron #the book of henry

[littlemisssquiggles]

Little Red Headcanons: Ruby the Teenage Silver Eyed Warrior

alittlesiren replied to your post “RWBY Musings #49: The Bandit and the Assassin. A Squiggle Meister’s...”

This was pretty good to read and think about. I knew I wasn't the only one who thought "Huh..." whenever I saw the Merc and Cinder interactions on Chibi. Honestly Cinder does seem like the type to use sex to manipulate and control someone.

Squiggles Answers:

I know right? It kinda does seem like something she could do. But then again, as I said, I’m not sure if RWBY will introduce those kinds of mature themes in the series. I know at NYCC RWBY + GEN:LOCK Panel, Barbara mentioned V6 introducing themes never explored before in RWBY. I know sex is a stretch and I wouldn’t exactly call it a theme exactly.

But perhaps it can be in the sense of certain characters coming into touch with their sexuality for the first time in the series or the characters understanding what love and attraction means from their own perspectives.

It’s been some time since we’ve had one of those more...I dunno, slice of life kind of episodes in RWBY where our heroes get to act like regular people learning to socialize, deal with feelings of intimacy and relationships rather than being huntsmen fighting against the forces of evil. The last time we got that was in V2 with the whole Ball episode.

With the team travelling for most of V6, I’m excited, not so much for the battles but more so for all those quite moments where characters can just have a real talk with each other. I’m one of the FNDM fam who actually enjoy when characters talk to each other. It’s a sign of characters bonding and two characters getting to understand each other is what makes me like them more in RWBY.

I know the endgame is the characters facing off against the forces of evil but....I hope we do get some more moments where our heroes can just be...well, kids and teens.

This is going to sound a little weird from me but in the case of Ruby Rose, I want to see how Ruby feels about herself. I know she’s confident in her skills as a fighter but…how does she see herself, physically…y’know as a girl…as a young woman growing into adulthood or whatnot. Is Ruby comfortable in her own skin or is there a part of her that secretly feels insecure about her looks especially when she starts to compare herself to the rest of her team.

Yang is constantly pursued for her beauty. The same can be said for Weiss and Blake practically has her own harem. But with Ruby; she is at that tender age where a girl’s appearance, how she values herself and how she measures herself as a woman is a theme I’ve never seen really done for her character before.

I want to know if Ruby thinks she’s beautiful. If she feels beautiful or is it something she’s never honestly considered about herself or tries not to think about too much because quite frankly she has other things to focus on like her huntsmen training, becoming a full-fledged Silver Eyed Warrior and combating Salem.

I just…want a moment or an episode where instead of being a huntress ---Ruby Rose can just be a teenage girl for a day and is allowed to act like one without the weight of all her other responsibilities looming over head.

How does she feel about boys or how does she feel about girls or anyone in particular? How does she feel about herself? About her looks. Is she confidant in herself as a woman or does she have insecurities about herself that is only bolstered by how she measures herself against other beautiful girls her sister and her teammates.

We got a tiny taste of that back in V2 with the ball episode. It showed me how Ruby felt about putting on a dress and wearing ‘lady-stilts’ and for the first time since the start of the show, it showed Ruby as just a regular girl who is uncomfortable with stuff like that but will do it anyways.

I want another episode like that for V6 or the Atlas Arc times one hundred. Especially now since Ruby was younger back in V2. She has matured a lot emotionally since her earlier Beacon Days so it’d be interesting to see how she feels about that kind of stuff presently at age 16.

Has she gotten better at walking in them lady stilts or does she still feel as awkward as ever? Is she still not a fancy, pantsy, dancey girl or just wouldn’t mind being one for a certain precious freckled farm boy?

It’d love for another dance themed episode where our heroes get some downtime to get dolled up, have fun and just dance the night away, y’know what I mean? I want it because I’d love to see a parallel where Oscar is standing awkwardly in the corner, afraid to dance and it’s Ruby to approach him and coach him on enjoying himself, like how Oz did for her back in V2.

Let’s say…Oscar discloses to Ruby that the main source of his nervousness is because he’s been building up the courage to ask a pretty girl he’s been eyeballing since the start of the night to dance with him.

Giggling, Ruby being Ruby gives Oscar some very Ozpin-like advice and advises him to just go for it as she’s confident that the girl he’s interested in will accept his offer. Oscar nervously complies. He decides to take Ruby’s advice and much to the Silver Eyed girl’s surprise, Oscar extends a very shaky yet courteous hand to her as he asked her to dance with him.

Though stunned by the gesture at first, Ruby’s shock melts into content as she accepts Oscar’s hand. The two smaller, more honest souls then exchange blushing smiles as they made their way onto the dance floor hand in hand.

I would really love something like this for V6 or another moment in the series. Just the kids being kids.

Ruby is the youngest member on an all-female team where ¾ of her squad are older beautiful girls who are more or less been the object of someone’s affection before. Like I said, Blake has had Adam, Sun and Illia desire to be with her before. Weiss has had Jaune, Neptune and Henri Marigold. Though no main suitors, it is noted that Yang has been catcalled by Junior and that one guy from the Branwen Tribe.

But…Ruby has never been the object of someone’s attention before. Unless it’s a sleazeball villain who saw her as an incessant adversary or a mentor character like Ozpin who saw her for the influence her persona had on other character, Ruby has never received attention for being a pretty girl. She’s never had a boy romantically interested in her. At least…until…

Enter the Precious Freckled Farm Boy from Mistral!

This is why I’m eyeballing Oscar so much because…I think Oscar will be the first guy Ruby will interact with that’ll actually like her for more than just being a huntress. I want to see how Ruby will react if she found out that a boy actually likes her. How would she react if she realized she might have a crush on someone?

How would she react when she realizes she might be falling in love with someone? These are questions I want answered. While everyone else is waiting for all the badass Grimm fights and for Ruby to unlock her Silver Eyes, I’m the squiggly weirdo who’s anticipating the ‘Ruby the Teenage Girl’ moments more than the ‘Ruby the Huntress’ moments. Sorry, not sorry.

But that’s just me. Anyways, thank you so much fellow RWBY fam. I’m glad you enjoyed reading through my musing!

~LittleMissSquiggles (2018) 

#alittlesiren #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar pine and ruby rose #rwby theories #rwby volume 6 #squiggles answers: rwby #little red headcanons #squiggles' little red headcanons

[wistfulcynic]

Both Are Infinite, Chapter 3

Summary: Busy single mother Emma Swan relies on her best friend, Royal Navy Captain Killian Jones, far too much to ever ruin things by acting on the crazy lust she feels for him. The boundaries between them are firmly set… until they’re not, and suddenly Emma and Killian are forced to confront the feelings they’ve been suppressing for far too long.

Also on: AO3

Art by: @rouhn

@resident-of-storybrooke @rouhn @teamhook @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @let-it-raines

Chapter 3:

Henry and Roland stood in front of the farm’s goat pen, tentatively reaching their hands through the fence to pet the goats’ soft noses and feed them treats. 

“I think I like goats,” said Henry.

“Me too,” said Roland. “I like their noses. But my dad says…” 

Henry frowned, and stopped listening. He liked Roland, who was about his age and who knew a lot about animals and about dinosaurs and about how Captain America was the best Avenger —something that Henry required of all his friends— but he never shut up about his dad, and Henry was growing tired of hearing about the man. Roland should think about what it was like for people who didn’t have dads, he thought crossly, before he went around bragging about his. He considered saying that to Roland, but deep in his heart he was still hoping that Killian would agree to be his dad, even though both Killian and his mom hadn’t reacted to his inquiries the way he’d thought they would, and so he didn’t want to say anything to Roland until he was sure Killian was no longer an option. 

 Henry thought that his suggestion made perfect sense, and he didn’t understand why his mom and Killian couldn’t see it. He didn’t have a dad, Killian didn’t have a kid, he and Killian did stuff together the way his friends did with their dads, Killian took care of him when his mom couldn’t and taught him things that were important to know. As far as Henry was concerned the matter was settled, and it was just a question of calling Killian “Dad” instead of “Killian,” and then he could tell his friends that his dad was the captain of a big ship, and they wouldn’t look guilty or pitying when they talked about their dads in front of him. He decided to try this out. 

“My dad’s the captain of a big ship,” he told Roland. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. It goes everywhere in the world and he’s the boss of all of it.” 

“That’s cool,” said Roland, clearly impressed, and Henry felt a bit guilty for lying. After all, it wasn’t Roland’s fault he had a dad and Henry didn’t. 

“And my mom works for a famous inventor,” he added, wanting to tell the truth about something. 

“I don’t have a mom,” said Roland, matter-of-factly. 

Henry was flummoxed. “You don’t?”

“No. I did, but she died. I don’t really remember her.” 

The pang of Henry’s guilt grew sharper, and he writhed a bit as he considered this. Roland didn’t remember his mom, and he, Henry, didn’t remember his real dad either. Maybe Roland would understand. 

“Actually, Killian’s not really my dad,” he confessed. “I just want him to be. But he is the captain of a big ship.” 

“Is that why you want him to be your dad?”

“No. It’s because he takes care of me and he loves my mom, and that’s what dads are supposed to do, right?” 

Roland nodded. “Yeah, I think so. That’s what my dad does. I mean, he takes care of me and he tells me stories about my mom.” 

A question was burning inside Henry. He hoped it wouldn’t upset Roland, but he had to ask it. “Do you ever wish you had a mom? A live one, I mean?”

Roland nodded again. “Yeah, sometimes. When I’m sad or I don’t feel well or when my dad has to work a lot.” Henry was almost certain now that Roland would get it. “Is there someone you want to be your mom?”

Roland thought for a while. “Maybe my dad’s boss,” he said finally. “Lots of people think she’s really mean, but she’s always nice to me and once when my dad was sick she came to our house and brought him soup. I think I’d like it if she was my mom. He paused, and Henry waited anxiously for him to continue. “Sometimes I pretend she is.” 

Henry grinned. Roland definitely understood. 

When Killian and Emma arrived at the Rabbit Hole that evening, both the bachelor and bachelorette parties were in full swing. Emma looked around, taking it all in. The Rabbit Hole had once been a mysterious, adults-only place in her mind, one that felt intriguing and exciting. Now, through the eyes of wider experience, it looked just like any other slightly dive-y bar. She felt oddly disappointed. 

“Tell me again why both events are being held at the same venue?” Killian murmured in her ear, distracting her from her thoughts. 

“Because David and Mary Margaret do everything together, they can’t help it. And there’s basically only one place in town for this sort of thing,” said Emma. She glanced over at him, her heart doing its familiar dance when her eyes met his bright blue ones. He was looking particularly good tonight, she thought; as gorgeous as he was in his uniform she preferred his off-duty look of black leather jacket and skinny jeans, his beard a bit less neatly trimmed, his hair a bit mussed. He looked slightly wild and slightly dangerous, and anyone who didn’t know would never guess he was a decorated naval officer. She loved that about him, the different facets of his personality that should have been incongruous but somehow meshed seamlessly into one fascinating, complex man.  

“Emma!” came a shriek from her left. “Holy shit, girl, is that you?”

She turned to greet the tall brunette who was charging towards her, finding herself swept into a hug before she could manage to deflect it. “Hi, Ruby.” 

Ruby stepped back, holding Emma by the shoulders as she gave her an assessing once-over. “I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages! It must be years!” 

“No more than three of them—” 

“Really? It feels like so much longer! And who is this?” she transitioned smoothly, turning to Killian and letting her eyes caress him in a manner designed to throw a man off-balance.

“Ruby Lucas, this is my friend Killian Jones,” said Emma, a bit warily. 

“Ohhh, yes, I’ve heard of him,” said Ruby, batting her lashes and holding out her hand. “Captain Jones, isn’t it?” she purred.

Killian was not so easily thrown off his game. His lips curled slowly into a devastating smile as he took Ruby’s hand and brushed a kiss across the backs of her fingers. Emma couldn’t help feeling a bit gratified when Ruby involuntarily caught her breath. “Just Killian will do,” he said, looking up at her through his long eyelashes, his deep voice caressing the words. Emma hid a grin. He had managed to turn Ruby’s tactics around on her, and it was oddly satisfying to see the bold brunette on the back foot for once. 

Ruby blinked slowly, staring at Killian for a long minute before shaking her head to clear it then breaking into a grin of reluctant camaraderie and respect. “All right, then, Killian,” she said, twining her arm around Emma’s and pointing to the far corner of the room with her other hand. “I’m going to steal Emma away now, the boys are over there on that side of the bar.” Emma looked over where Ruby indicated and her mouth fell open. 

“Ruby, is that… is that Graham Humbert?” 

“Oh, yeah, he moved back a year or so ago. He’s the park ranger for this area.” Ruby shot her a speculative look. “You had a thing for him in high school didn’t you? You ever get off with him?” 

Emma was still staring, lost in memories. “No, though not for lack of trying. Unfortunately, he was more interested in trees then too.” 

“Well he might not be anymore. Unless I’m very much mistaken, he is giving you the eye.” She tugged on Emma’s arm. "Let’s go say hello.” 

Emma glanced at Killian who was standing very stiffly, his expression uncharacteristically blank. He didn’t meet her eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” he said with a tight smile, and departed, disappearing into the crowd before she could protest. 

“Come on, Emma, let’s go greet the hunky woodsman.” Ruby pulled her over towards where Graham was sitting but their progress was interrupted by Mary Margaret, already flushed with alcohol, the pink paper crown on her head slightly askew.

“No you don’t,” she said, “No men tonight. This is girls’ night, night for girls.” 

“Oh c’mon, MM, it’s not a bachelorette party if someone doesn’t get their rocks off.” 

Mary Margaret scowled. “I said no! And anyway, Emma already has a man.”

Emma’s scowl matched her friend’s. “I don’t—” she began, but Ruby pounced. 

“Ah, yes, the insanely hot and I must say impressively smooth Captain Jones. What is your deal with him, Ems?”

“There’s no deal,” snapped Emma, pushing both women away and stomping towards the bar. If there was going to be interrogation on this subject, she needed to be a hell of a lot drunker to deal with it. She ordered three shots of whisky and quickly tossed them back, relishing the fiery burn that traced its way down her throat to her stomach, helping to dull the familiar ache that had bloomed in her chest at the suggestion of romance between her and Killian. By the time she’d slammed the third empty shot glass down on the bar, Mary Margaret and Ruby had flanked her again. 

“C’mon, there must be a deal,” pressed Ruby. “You can’t just be friends with a man like that, not really.” 

The ache stabbed Emma again. Why does everyone always say that? “Well, we are just friends.” 

“And you’ve never fucked him?”

Ruby still had zero concept of boundaries, thought Emma crossly. “No.”

“Don’t you want to?” Ruby’s voice was pure disbelief. 

“I—” What a stupid question that was, thought Emma. Of course she wanted to, had wanted to from the very moment she’d seen him from across a bar not that dissimilar to this one, had wanted to every moment of the five years that had passed since. It had certainly been her intention to end up in bed with him when she’d taken her alcohol-fuelled courage in hand and marched across that bar to lay a kiss on him. She wondered endlessly about what would have happened between them if Henry hadn’t gotten sick. Would she have been able to fuck him then walk away, as she had done easily with other men? Something told her that a single night in bed with Killian wouldn’t be anywhere near enough. 

“I’d rather have him as a friend,” she said quietly, and Mary Margaret and Ruby’s eager faces fell as they recognised the resigned sincerity in her voice. 

“I mean, couldn’t he be both?” Ruby ventured, sounding contrite. “Friend and lover?”

“No.” 

“But why not—”

“Because I’d fuck things up, and then I’d lose him, and I can’t lose him. Besides,” he doesn’t want me “he’s dating someone else.” No point telling them he’d broken up with his girlfriend, for all she knew that could just be temporary, He’d looked awfully sad when he talked about it. Mary Margaret and Ruby looked like they were about to commiserate, and Emma hastened to change the subject, knowing she wouldn’t be able to handle their sympathy. 

“But never mind that, I thought you said this was a party!” she said, forcing a smile and waving at the bartender for more drinks. “Girls’ night, remember! Come on, bride-to-be, let’s get you drunk— er, drunker.” She handed them each a shot. “To your wedding,” she said, holding up her glass. 

“To my wedding!” cried Mary Margaret gleefully, and they all drank. 

Half an hour later, Emma was feeling wonderful, just buzzed enough to be carefree without tipping over into out-of-control. 

Her eyes wandered over to where Graham was sitting. She could still see why her teenage self had been into him, though if she was honest none of the old fascination remained. He was sort of Killian-lite, she thought. Similar height and build, similar dark-haired, light-eyed, beardy aesthetic, but he lacked Killian’s edge and charm and his simmering sex appeal. In another time and place, another Emma would certainly not have turned down a night with Graham, but here-and-now Emma had no desire to tear his clothes off and have him against the nearest flat surface, as she pretty much constantly wanted to do with Killian. She thought about Ruby’s question, and the alcohol coursing through her system somehow made it seem like not such a bad idea. Why couldn’t Killian be a lover as well as a friend? People did that, right? Friends with benefits they called it. He was her friend, so why couldn’t she have some freaking benefits? Of course, there was the small matter of him practically throwing her off of him this morning. She had to admit that that wasn’t promising. But he had also kissed her once, kissed her as she’d never been kissed before or since, with the same blazing heat and barely-contained passion she felt for him. Most of the time she refused to let herself think about that kiss, the single hottest experience of her life, but the memory was burned into her brain and she knew that even if she wanted to she’d never be able to forget it. If she let herself she could still could still hear his sharply drawn-in breath as she’d pulled his mouth down to hers, still feel the way his hand had tangled in her hair and their lips had clung together in the gentlest, sexiest way, both soft and firm, before he’d tilted his head, opened his mouth, and devoured her. Emma had lost herself in the heat and wetness and the way his tongue had curled around hers, tasting of rum and spice, making her head spin and her whole body flush as she’d moaned and pulled him closer. She still remembered his muscles flexing under her fingers as she’d clung to him, the iron strength of the arm he’d wrapped around her waist, holding her like he never intended to let go; remembered the intense connection that had sizzled between them, setting her nerve endings alight at every point of contact. She remembered the wrecked look on his face when they’d finally come up for air, the way he’d stared at her like he’d never seen a woman before, like she’d shaken him to his foundations. Sometimes she thought she’d give anything to see that look again, to feel that he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.

“Fuck,” she groaned, squeezing her thighs together. She was really wet. This is why I never think about that damned kiss. 

She scanned the room for Killian, not seeing him at first. Then the crowd shifted and there he was, sitting in a dark corner booth, deep in conversation with a gorgeous brunette. Emma’s heart gave a painful lurch as she watched him lean in close to say something to her, his mouth curving into a flirtatious smile. She replied, smiling back, and then they both threw back their heads and laughed. Emma realised with a jolt that she recognised the brunette. It was Belle, the town librarian. Typical, she thought. Killian loved to read, he and Belle would have a lot in common. A lot to talk about. A lot to laugh about, apparently, as they burst into laughter again and her gut twisted viciously at the sight. 

When are you going to get it through your thick skull that he doesn’t want you?

But the kiss…

That was one time, and it was years ago. He hasn’t made a single move since. He’s never made a move on you, actually, don’t forget, you kissed him. Let it go.

Dragging her gaze from Killian and Belle, she looked back at Graham and found him watching her. He smiled. Killian-lite, she thought again. Maybe that would suffice; she had a Killian itch that needed scratching, if she couldn’t have the real thing then maybe the lite version would be enough. At least there’d be no danger of her falling in lo— no, mind, don’t go there. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Belle nearly doubling over with laughter as Killian grinned wickedly to punctuate whatever story he’d been telling her. Emma made up her mind. She flashed Graham a flirtatious look and stood, flipping her hair over her shoulder and sauntering over to him, missing the pained resignation that flashed across Killian’s face as he observed her out of the corner of his eye.  

An hour later she had tipped from carefree to out-of-control and was just rounding the corner to barely functional. Quickly tossing back the two latest entrants in a long line of shots, she draped herself over Graham’s shoulder, tracing her fingertip along his jawline, and blinked slowly as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying through the alcoholic haze that she thought might finally be strong enough to wipe the image of Killian and Belle from her mind. 

“Emma, why don’t you just talk to him?” Graham was saying in a carefully patient voice. 

“Hmmm? Who?” “Killian.” Graham’s tone suggested he had repeated this suggestion multiple times. 

“Talkabout wha’ with ‘im?” slurred Emma.

“Tell him how you feel, Emma.” 

“How d’you know how I feel bou’ Killian?”

Graham sighed. “You’ve been talking about literally nothing else for the past hour.” 

“Hmmmm?”

“Look, maybe I should get someone to take you home.” Graham signalled to the bartender and suddenly there was a glass of water in front of Emma. “Drink this,” he told her.  

“Mmmmm,” Emma looked down at the glass, trying to make it sit still long enough for her to pick it up. It refused, and when she looked up again Killian was there.

“Heyyyy!” she said, grabbing his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You all right, Swan?” 

“Fine, ’m fine. Jus’ fine.” 

Killian smiled, but there was something troubling behind his eyes, something she couldn’t put her finger on. “Fine indeed,” he said. “Are you ready to go home?” 

“Home,” she giggled. “Take me home, Killian.” She stood up so abruptly that she stumbled on her high heels and fell backward. He caught her with an arm around her waist and she leaned into him, snuggling into his embrace and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. 

Gently, he set her away from him, leaving only his hand on her arm to steady her. “All right, love, let’s go. There’s a taxi waiting.” 

In the taxi she clung to him, her head on his shoulder, determinedly resisting his attempts to get her to sit on her own seat. She wanted to cuddle, damn it, she thought, knowing that there was a reason why she couldn’t but unable to call it to mind. The ride was not a long one, and when they arrived at Mary Margaret and David’s house he held her away from him with a firm grip of his hand on her arm as he helped her inside and up the stairs to their room, and all Emma could think about was how strong he was, how calm and competent he was all the time, everywhere, and how she wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go, wanted also to see him driven wild, pushed beyond the limitations of his iron control. 

He lowered her to a sitting position on the bed and knelt down to remove her shoes, then leaned in close and unzipped her dress. She took a deep breath, inhaling the heady aroma that surrounded him. Fuck, he smells so good. Smelling him was one of her secret indulgences, but this time she’d barely managed to catch a whiff before he was gone, retrieving her pyjamas and laying them on the bed next to her. 

“You get changed, love, I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

Why’s everyone want me to drink water?

“No, wait,” she said, lurching to her feet and falling unsteadily towards him. He caught her, his hands on her hips, his eyes darting away as she tried to catch his gaze. 

“What is it, Swan?” he asked, his voice rough. 

“Don’t go yet,” she breathed, running one hand across his chest and reaching up with the other to caress his face. He swallowed hard, then a muscle in his jaw began to dance and she traced her fingertips over it, fascinated. 

“I’m coming right back,” he ground out, but she just shook her head. 

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. 

“Emma…”

“Killian, I—” she hesitated, groping for the words, the alcohol making her long to tell him how she felt while at the same time robbing her of the ability to express it. “I—” Nope, no use, the words wouldn’t come. Frustrated, and overflowing with emotions that needed an outlet, she stood on her toes and kissed him. 

The feel of her mouth on his, finally, after years of subsisting on only the memory of it, rocked Killian to his core and left him iron hard and desperate, the desire to say to hell with it all and just take what she was offering almost a physical force in his gut. He had to fight his attraction to her constantly, which was exhausting enough when their boundaries were clearly in place but here, with her pressing herself insistently against him, her lips soft and hot, her breasts against his chest and her arms twined around him, the narrow bed they would share for the night only inches away, it was all but impossible. For one brief, heartbreaking moment he allowed himself to be weak, to tangle his fingers in her silky hair and return her kiss, nudging her lips apart and taking her mouth as he’d so often dreamed of doing, deep and soft and wet, stroking her tongue with his as he held her close. Lost in the intoxicating pleasure of her, he allowed himself to pretend that the love of his life was in his arms because she wanted to be there, that she was kissing him because she loved him and not because another man had gotten her all keyed up then unceremoniously dumped her on her friend when he’d realised she was too drunk to fuck. The memory of Graham's sheepish expression when he'd asked Killian to take Emma home filled him with rage, rekindling his urge to pound his fists into the other man's face. At least the bastard hadn’t taken advantage of her inebriated state, Killian thought furiously. 

What, you mean like you’re taking advantage of it? 

Fair point, he conceded. 

He slid his hand down her back and over her ass, pulling her hips tightly against his and pressing his aching erection into her softness, letting himself imagine just for a second how bloody good it would feel to bury it inside her, at the same time fisting his other hand in her hair and pouring five years’ worth of love and lust and longing into one last fierce kiss. 

Then he let her go. 

“Killian?” she whispered, confused, blinking dazed green eyes at him, reaching out to pull him back. 

Killian cursed Graham Humbert with every foul invective he could call to mind, and after ten years in the navy he knew a fair few. 

“Get changed, Emma,” he managed to say, his throat so tight he could barely force out the words. “I’ll go get you that water.” Deftly evading her reaching hands, he fled from the room.  

When he returned to the bedroom ten minutes later, having managed to regain some calm and wrangle his cock into submission, he found Emma curled up on the bed, sound asleep, still wearing her dress. Killian cursed again, not bothering to whisper, knowing that she was down for the count and unlikely to wake up before noon. He set the glass of water down and regarded her helplessly. He could let her sleep in her dress, but the prospect gave him an unpleasant twinge of conscience. She’d be a lot more comfortable in her nightclothes, and he hated to think of her in any discomfort. 

Gathering the tattered remains of his self-control he gently slid her arms out of her dress, making sure to keep her breasts covered and resolutely ignoring her obvious lack of a bra. He picked up the tank top she liked to sleep in and slipped it over her head, pulling her arms through the holes and smoothing the shirt down her body, removing her dress as he went, his eyes darting away from the sight of her pebbled nipples poking up through the thin fabric of her tank. He was rock hard again, blood pounding in his ears and his fingers itching to touch her, and when he pulled her dress down her hips and saw the tiny scrap of lace that was all she wore as an undergarment, he nearly came. As quickly as his trembling hands would allow, he pulled her pyjama bottoms up over her legs and hips then tucked her under the blankets and sighed in relief when her gorgeous body was fully concealed. 

He needed a very, very cold shower. 

Retreating into the haven of the bathroom and locking the door behind him, and shed his clothes rapidly, glaring at his cock as it sprang free from his jeans. Cold water alone was not going to be enough, he knew, not when images of Emma’s long, slender legs, golden curls peeking out from under the tiny triangle of black lace between them, were burned into the backs of his eyelids. Stepping into the shower, he grasped himself firmly, bracing his other hand against the wall and ducking his head under the icy spray. He hated jerking off to thoughts of her; it felt like a violation of her trust and of their friendship, but he’d never been pushed this close to the edge before and could think of no other way to achieve the relief he desperately needed. Pumping his cock roughly, almost angrily, he closed his eyes and surrendered to his fantasies. Emma’s gorgeous legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her, the tight, wet squeeze of her inner walls around him, her hair spread out on the pillows as she moaned his name and writhed beneath him, ecstasy breaking over her beautiful face as he made her come again and again. 

It didn’t take long. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life and his release came so quickly it was almost embarrassing. He pumped himself dry, hoping that this perfunctory shower orgasm would keep his cock limp long enough for him to fall asleep, though he knew that with Emma lying beside him that hope was certainly a futile one. He dried himself quickly and returned to the bedroom, pulling his pyjamas on and sliding stealthily into the bed as he had the night before, again keeping as much space as possible between himself and Emma. Releasing his breath in a long sigh, he closed his eyes and willed sleep to come. He was ready for this day to be over. 

But it was not to be. Barely had he begun to relax when Emma rolled over, drawn to him like iron to a magnet, and buried her face in his neck, her hand sliding under his t-shirt, fingertips caressing his skin. He turned to look at her but she was unquestionably asleep, her breathing deep and even, a slight smile on her face as she snuggled into him. 

Killian gave up. There was only so much a man could be expected to endure in one twenty-four hour period, and he was pretty sure he’d surpassed the limit some time ago. He slid his arm under Emma, pulling her close, brushing her hair back from her face as he pressed soft kisses onto her cheeks and forehead. 

“I love you, Emma,” he whispered, stroking her face with reverent fingers. “I’d give anything for this to be real. Forgive me.” 

Turning his face into her hair and cuddling her close, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

#cs #cs au #cs au ff #cs au fic #slow burn #mutual pining #both are infinite

[spooky-ghostwriter]

Dressed to Kill - Chapter Eighteen

<– Previous Chapter

Next Chapter –>

It was not exactly forty years before the conversation between Vercingetorix and Garrick on the cactus farm, but it was close enough for all intents and purposes. At that time, Garrick's primary assistant was a woman. Garrick thought back to what her name had been. Helen was what Garrick remembered, so that was what he chose to tell Vercingetorix.

Garrick kept the original dryad seed, the one that had ignited all of his research, in a small glass cube on his desk. It was a memento for him – the ultimate catalyst that had led him into the world of the impossible. Whenever his research failed to progress as quickly as he'd like, funding was low, or there was some other kind of undue stress, he could always gaze at the seed and remind himself of his greatest accomplishment.

This was one of those days. Garrick exhaled deeply. He felt his frustration subside as he stared at the seed.

To his slight embarrassment, Helen had chosen that moment to enter the office.

“You'd have something to watch if you actually planted it,” said Helen.

Garrick laughed.

“Maybe,” He agreed. He leaned back in his chair. “We're so close, Helen. The merging of animal and dryad DNA is theoretically possible. But to create a true dryad, like the ones from the legends, an insect or a mouse won't do. We need a human.”

“I know. You've said that before.”

“Ideally a child. Someone young who can adapt to the process as they grow.”

“A... child,” Helen repeated. “How old?”

“As young as possible,” Garrick said, leaning back in thought. “A newborn would be best. But even... six, no, five years old. Five would be the cutoff.”

“Garrick, you can't subject a five-year-old child to – ”

Garrick tried to keep from rolling his eyes as Helen began her speech. He caught a few words about consent and medical ethics, but for the most part it was the same boring monotony that he'd heard countless times from all sorts of people. Evidently, and to his incredible disappointment, Helen was no different. He made a note to himself about finding another new assistant.

One word in Helen's diatribe caught Garrick's attention – the word 'parents'.

Ah, Garrick thought, watching in interest as the woman tried to hold back tears at her own rant. Perhaps that's where I should start – children with no parents.

“Once I had that thought in mind,” Garrick continued, “I did what I could to find and secure an orphan child. Eventually I found one to my liking – a young boy who was abandoned by his parents so young that he didn't even know his name. I'm curious, John Doe, did you ever look into finding them?”

“I did not,” Vercingetorix managed to say. The pain in his chest had improved, but only marginally; it was now a burning sensation instead of a piercing one. “I found a new family.”

“Yes, and I was very proud of you for that!” Garrick said. He sounded oddly genuine.

“Now – do you honestly expect me to believe your story?” Vercingetorix asked. “That you implanted some seed into me forty years ago, when you look younger than me now?”

“You do realize you're holding my notes on how a girl in your employment turns into a tank, don't you?” Garrick countered. “Is it truly that hard to believe that I, a person who attained knowledge from mythical beings, was able to modify my own aging? It would certainly benefit the dryads if their emissary was not affected by the pesky human concept of age.”

Vercingetorix grit his teeth. It was easier to tolerate Garrick's story when he'd felt it was a complete lie. But when he had such a simple answer for the main hole in his story, Vercingetorix felt he had to reconsider the entire thing.

“So you planted some seed in me when I was a child, and then just let me run off to create Alesia,” Vercingetorix reiterated. “Without monitoring me or anything of that sort?”

“I monitored the seed's development over a few months,” Garrick said idly. “When I found that it hadn't actually integrated itself into your biology, I called the experiment a failure and let you go along your business. It was only recently that I found out where the dryads I revived were going, and that they were chasing after that seed. However, given that you put so much effort into seeking out the impossible, as dryads like to do, it could be that the dryad seed has affected you in some way.”

No... there's no reason to believe what this man says.

“Still skeptical?” Garrick asked. “Let me ask you this, then. What made you think that this cactus farm was suspicious? I just told you that dryads seek out other dryads. Perhaps you had a feeling – some sensation – that this farm was worth investigating? I wonder how far in advance you knew that dryads were approaching Alesia each time they came.”

Vercingetorix recalled each and every one of those events in perfect clarity. He could no longer completely deny what Garrick told him.

The look on Vercingetorix's face must have told Garrick what he wanted to hear, for he now wore a sickening smile.

“I've been thinking,” said Garrick, “Perhaps my experiment ended a little too soon. What would you say to coming back to my new and improved facility? If the seed has indeed begun to influence you, I'm curious what wonderful things I could learn about you now.”

Vercingetorix shot Garrick a stare as piercing as Garrick's own. Thinking back to this moment later, he felt that he may have missed an opportunity to get even more information, but his reaction was immediate and instinctive.

“Like hell.”

“To be honest, that's about what I expected you to say,” Garrick said, sounding crestfallen. “Still, between my progress over the past forty years and your combination with the seed not being as complete of a failure as I'd expected, I've decided that there is more I can do even without you. I've researched dryads in all of their possible forms, but I must have missed something when it comes to humanity. Humans are indeed capable of things that even I, with my knowledge gifted from the dryads, could not have imagined. I want to see just how far dryads can be advanced.”

Vercingetorix stared at the paper in his hand in horror.

“You want Tsukiko.”

“Yes, that's right. I first realized what I may have missed when I saw your other stage magician transform into a tank. Freya, was it? A shame the dryads weren't able to capture her alive as I'd wanted. But that's all right. I have you to thank for this second chance.”

The farmhouse door, a floor above, slammed open.

“Vercy!” Galen's voice cried. “Are you here? We've finished up with the cacti!”

“I see those were a failure,” Garrick said. “Oh well. It's all a learning experience, is it not?”

“Galen! Ravindra! Henry! All of you come down here!” Vercingetorix ordered.

“Oh?” Garrick asked. “I was hoping we could talk more, you and I.”

A faint wind began to blow through the basement. The papers in Vercingetorix's hand and those on the desk behind him started to flutter. Then, the wind picked up. A trail of leaves blew from what looked like out of Garrick's suit. With each one, Vercingetorix realized that less of the man was visible; he was like a jigsaw puzzle falling apart. After a dozen or so large blue leaves fell onto the wind and began to get swept away, Garrick was gone completely.

Galen hurried down the stairs, but paused in confusion as a trail of wind and leaves blew past his face.

He, Ravindra and Henry made their way down to the basement, but it was too late. Garrick was gone; the wind carrying the leaves died down as suddenly as it had picked up.

“What... was that?” Galen asked.

Vercingetorix shook his head.

“Flesh and blood, he said...” Vercingetorix muttered.

He looked at the stagehand, firebreather and mime.

“We need to get back to Alesia. Now.”

“I don't see why I'm here,” Tsukiko said in frustration.

“Because,” said Stiletto. “You don't stay still properly during shows. We need to practice.”

Tsukiko frowned, staying as still as possible as a knife flew by her ear and sank into the crates behind her. Miss Isle, standing a couple crates higher on the stack, jostled slightly at the force of the knife, but still continued to juggle her bowling pins without issue.

“Not what I meant.”

“Oh, you mean why are any of us here?” Miss Isle asked. “Like – what's our purpose in life? I think mine is to juggle stuff, personally. Yours is probably stage magic, right?”

“No,” Tsukiko said dully. She found it hard to properly express herself without raising her hands, but kept them at her sides so that Stiletto could toss a knife below her armpit.

“What I mean is, why aren't I at the cactus farm with Galen and the others?” Tsukiko asked. “Why am I here, at the circus, in this very instant?”

Miss Isle caught her bowling pins.

“I'm no philosopher,” She said, “but wouldn't that just be because Vercy didn't ask you to come along?”

“She's not wrong,” Stiletto agreed, weighing a couple knives in her hand. After a moment, she threw both with the same hand and they embedded themselves into the wood on either side of Tsukiko's throat.

“I'm serious! Why didn't Vercingetorix ask me to come along to the cactus farm?” Tsukiko cried. “Why did he bring Galen and his punchy-pants instead of me and my military vehicle?”

“Okay, first of all, I'm going to start calling Galen 'Punchy Pants' from now on,” Miss Isle promised, beginning to juggle once more. “And second of all, you can't spend all day every day killing dryads. Take a day to yourself once in a while. Sleep in, plan some magic, hang out with your snake, have Stiletto chuck knives at you... you know. Relax.”

“Besides, we're the main people who can defend the circus while they're gone,” Stiletto added.

“Maybe I should just start wearing the Tank Top by default,” Tsukiko muttered.

“I'd totally do that if I were you!” Miss Isle said. “Religalia don't work for me.”

“Oh? Why's that?” Tsukiko asked, looking up to meet her eyes as best she could without moving her head. From Vercingetorix's earlier explanation, she understood that Freya's death had affected the other performers too much for them to use Religalia, but from what she knew, Miss Isle was a recent hire who probably would have never met Freya in the first place.

“She doesn't trust herself with a tank,” Stiletto said simply.

“I do too!” Miss Isle retorted. “I just don't trust that anyone else would trust me with a tank!”

“Aw, that's not true. I'd trust you!” Tsukiko said sympathetically.

“Hey Miss Isle, how many injuries have you had this year?” Stiletto asked.

“Uh...”

Miss Isle began counting on her fingers. As she did, one of the bowling pins she'd forgotten she was juggling bounced off her head, and the other two rolled off the crate.

“Including that one,” Stiletto said.

“Well fine, if you're counting all the minor bumps and scrapes and shrapnel, it's a lot, okay?!” Miss Isle sputtered. It was hard for Tsukiko to tell if she was actually angry, for her high voice and smile-exaggerating make-up would have hid it, but Tsukiko knew her well enough by now to guess that she was joking around.

Distracted by the thought, Tsukiko nearly forgot about Stiletto's knives. One flew by her nose, and she flinched.

“Okay, we're done,” Stiletto said. “You're too daydreamy right now.”

Tsukiko was not entirely unhappy to hear this. She stepped away from the crates and turned. She had a very noticeable outline by now; nearly fifty knives had traced a near-perfect silhouette of Tsukiko in the wooden boxes.

“Why is it so hard to find people who stay still for long enough?” Stiletto asked wistfully.

“I can stay still!” Miss Isle offered, sliding off her crate perch. “Can I juggle grenades while you throw knives at me?”

“No.”

“Come on!”

Tsukiko left Stiletto and Miss Isle to their bickering and weapon tossing. As Miss Isle had suggested, she wandered to the bestiary to see Gary. She didn't see her snake in the shelter at first. She knelt down to eye level, and spotted Gary curled up in his hollowed rock hideout. The snake noticed her as well and poked its head out of hiding.

Tsukiko picked the snake out of his terrarium and draped him across her neck and shoulder. Gary relaxed, being kept warm by Tsukiko's all-too-plentiful hair, as his owner recounted her complaints and day plans.

“You know, you're a better listener than Henry,” Tsukiko said. “We should do this more often.”

Gary flicked out his tongue. Tsukiko took that as an agreement.

A few paces later, her cell phone rang. Tsukiko poked at the screen, recognizing the number.

“Yo, Galen,” she said.

“Tsuki! Are you okay?” Galen's voice asked frantically.

“Er. Yes?” Tsukiko guessed, looking to Gary for confirmation. “What's up?”

“We found some weird stuff at the cactus farm,” Galen said. “There's this guy called Garrick. He works with the dryads and he's been researching all of Alesia's acts.”

“Well, that sort of makes sense,” Tsukiko said. “Anyone working with the dryads would have to know by now that we're the ones killing their stupid plant monsters, right?”

“Yeah, but – look. As far as we can tell, Garrick is targeting you specifically. He doesn't know how the Religalia work, so he thinks you're special.”

“You say that like you don't think I'm special!” Tsukiko gasped in mock-offence.

“Yeah yeah. Just do me a favour and stay away from any plants until we get back. Vercy wants to hold a meeting. We're going to go over what we've learned and how to make sure you stay safe.”

“That's sweet and all, but is it really necessary?” Tsukiko asked. “I've fought dryads before. You saw me do it. I'm actually pretty good at it.”

“You're right,” Galen said. “Sorry. It's just that seeing all of this has really freaked me out. It's one thing for you to fight monsters, but when they're coming for you specifically... makes me worry.”

“Aw. I was worried about you too. Someone said you were fighting cacti?”

“Oh, yeah, they were a pain in the ass.”

“Hopefully not literally pains in your ass. I'm not High Healing ass injuries.”

“Luckily, no. And we're all fine, so you don't have to worry either.”

“Well,” Tsukiko said. “I'll do my best to avoid plants.” She looked down at the grass beneath her feet; the field extended for hundreds of meters in any direction. “No promises, though.”

“Yeah, you're right, I'm just being paranoid,” Galen said. “We're almost back at the circus. We'll talk then.”

A pause.

“Tsuki?” Galen's voice asked through Tsukiko's phone. “Are you still there?”

Silence.

Gary the snake slithered around the grass. The snake didn't understand why he was suddenly on the ground, even being used to Tsukiko appearing and disappearing during magic shows. He wrapped around Tsukiko's fallen phone. The battery's warmth did a good job of emulating her body heat.

“Tsuki, come on,” Galen's voice rang out through the phone. “This isn't funny.”

Gary poked up his head. His owner wasn't in any direction he could see.

“Tsuki...?” asked the phone.

“We found Tsukiko's cell phone and her pet snake near Pierre's tents.”

Jeffery placed the device on Vercingetorix's large circular desk, facing the rest of the group. Vercingetorix, Ravindra and Henry all looked at the device with grimaces on their faces.

Galen, on the other hand, looked simply empty. Even Gary, sitting on his shoulder and tickling his ear with his tiny forked tongue, did nothing to change Galen's expression.

“Stiletto and Miss Isle said they were talking just after lunch,” Jeffery explained. “Going by the length of the call between Galen and Tsukiko, it seems like she disappeared at one thirty four.”

“And no one saw anything?” Ravindra asked.

“There were no dryad sightings,” Jeffery confirmed. “Some stagehands saw Tsukiko wandering around with Gary, but that's all.”

“What of the Religalia?” Vercingetorix asked.

“Stiletto and Miss Isle said that Tsukiko was wearing her normal outfit when she was captured. They thought that might have included the Bow Tie, but we checked storage. All of the Religalia are accounted for. She must have been wearing her non-Religalia bow tie,” said Jeffery.

“That's a relief,” said Vercingetorix. “Now – ”

Galen stood, slamming a palm onto the desk.

“Is that what you care about?!” He demanded, startling the poor snake on his neck. “God knows what happened to Tsukiko and you're worried about her bow tie?!”

Henry held up his palms, motioning for Galen to sit down. He made a few more gestures, but at Galen's level of stress, he found he couldn't understand a single one.

“Henry's right,” Ravindra said. “The dryads likely captured Tsukiko, as opposed to killing her. They believe she has the ability to transform into a tank and conjure the Bow Tie's compound bow. If they were to learn that the powers come from the Religalia, and not Tsukiko herself, that's when she'd be in true danger.”

Galen looked back at Vercingetorix, trying to decide if the manager had meant the same thing. Galen saw no change in his expression, and so sat down with the same frustration with which he'd arisen.

He looked around the table, but none of the others seemed to blame him for his outburst. Each of them was silent, completely immersed in their own thoughts.

#dressed to kill #original fiction #tsukiko

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Normal (?) Neighbors

Spencer Reid x Fem OC

From the point of view of a teenage boy or girl

One in which Spencer is retired, teaching at the university, and gets to grow old and be happy.

Note: I decided to not give them kids because I felt like it would just be cuter

You parked your car on the curb in front of your aunt and uncle’s house and got out of the driver’s seat, reaching into the back seat for your duffle bag and backpack. You hauled it up to the front door and knocked. The door opened and your aunt opened it, hugging you tight and taking your backpack as you hugged your uncle. You were going to be house sitting for them nearly all summer and they were traveling for “fun”, which meant they were traveling to blog and write for newspapers around the globe. 

“Feel free to have some friends over, don’t go too crazy though! We’re going to be out of here in a few hours, but theres a list of numbers on the fridge, the key is on the counter and if you have any problems go next door to the Reids. They know you’re going to be here.” You nodded to your uncle’s instructions, trying to remember who lived next door. You couldn’t picture the adults, but you remembered two boys, one a little older than you and one your age. They were both white blond and had been shrieking at someone from the lawn. 

“They have two boys right?” Your uncle looked at you quizzically and then seemed to realize something, his eyebrows wiggling. You smacked him on the shoulder. 

“They don’t have any kids of their own, but Spencer is the godfather of a whole butt load of kids. You probably remember Henry and Michael, blond boys right?” You nodded. 

“Yeah, well if they come by this summer invite them over,” your aunt joked. You stuck your tongue out at her and she did it right back. 

“You know where your room is, so you’re all set to be free and roam. We’ll let you know when we’re leaving.” You nodded and took your stuff up to your room. 

-/-/-/-

You’d had a few days alone to adjust to the house when you decided to go for a run, tying your house key to your sneakers and putting your phone in your pocket. As you started jogging down the road you saw a middle-aged man out front. You quickly tugged your headphones from your ears and called out to him.

“Mister Reid!” He turned as you walked up the path to his front door. 

“Oh! Hi, you must be (Y/N). Your aunt said you would be around.” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say hi!” Your pep made him smile. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you. You know you’re about the same age as one of my godsons.” You nodded and he checked his watch, which was on his wrist timepiece in over his sweater. 

“You know, it’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you come over after your run and have a meal with my wife and I? Our godchildren are all busy and we could use a young face in the house for dinner.” You smiled, thinking mostly about the idea of a home cooked meal that wasn’t mac n cheese.

“Sure! What time should I come by?” He gave you a time and asked if you had any allergies before shooing you off to run and calling his wife. 

After your run you showered quickly, putting on jeans and a nice shirt before pocketing your keys and phone, walking across the lawn and knocking on the Reids’ front door. 

A pretty woman opened the door and smiled. 

“You must be (Y/N). I’m Kayla, it’s nice to meet you.” You reciprocated, presenting a bouquet of flowers you’d bought at a farm stand half a mile away from the house. 

“Come on in.” Dinner was baked fish with pasta and potatoes and both adults insisted that you call them by their first names, Spencer and Kayla.

“So what do you want to do in college, (Y/N)?” Kayla asked. Conversation had turned out to be easy with them, where most adults would be stiff, they were happy to have you over and you could see how much they loved each other just by how they glanced over to one another. 

“Uhm, I’m not sure yet. I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon though. What do you two do?” 

“I’m a pediatric nurse and Spencer teaches at the university.” You nodded.

“What do you teach?” Spencer leaned back in his chair and Kayla stifled a smirk, it was a sign that Spencer would be talking for a while, and god knew how long he could talk about his job for. 

“Criminal psychology, calculus, and engineering on occasion.” Your mouth just about fell open.

“All of those? Are you a genius or something?” Spencer was going to say something, but Kayla cut in.

“He doesn’t believe that intelligence is quantifiable, but he is a genius, even by those standards.” Spencer made a face and Kayla laughed. 

“Hie version was much longer. He used to be an FBI agent as well.” 

“Kay!” he complained. 

“Woah, an FBI agent? Like spies and stuff?” Spencer laughed. 

“No, more like bureaucracy and stuff. I was part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

“Wait they’re the ones that catch the serial killers right?” Spencer nodded and you stared in amazement. 

“Your job was to catch serial killers and now you’re a professor. Why did you change jobs?” Spencer smiled and nodded at Kayla. 

“This one was very worried about my safety and I was already teaching part time.” You nodded, understanding. 

“Do you want to see some pictures?” You nodded, helping Kayla put the plates in the kitchen, despite her insistence that you didn’t. Then all of you sat down in the living room, which had wall to wall bookshelves on two walls, and Spencer pulled down three albums. He showed you pictures of his team, some of the cases they worked, and his god children (three boys and one girl). 

“These are our wedding photos. We were so tight on time that we had it in our backyard with just our team and Kayla’s family.” Kayla was blushing, pushing Spencer around and you smiled. You wanted to have a love like that one day.

“You seem to lead fun lives,” you said. 

“Once you find something you love to do and someone you love to be around, everything else is overcome.” 

“Even Mexican prison,” Spencer said, matter of factly.

“Spencer Reid!” Kayla hit him with a pillow and he laughed.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said, getting up, “And thank you for telling me about your lives.” 

“Aw, well at least we’ll have a reason to persuade the god children back to visit us.” Your eyebrows knit together. 

“Oh I know a choice boy who would like to meet you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, dear. Now go on, it’s getting late,” Kayla said, getting up and putting out her hand for Spencer. He got up and you noticed his slight limp.

“Off to bed now, (Y/N). See you soon,” Spencer said, opening the door for you. You waved as you walked out and turned back as you reached your front door. Both of them were standing on the front stoop and Spencer was pointing at something in the sky. Kayla looked up and Spencer stole a kiss. Both of them smiled and went back inside.

#who wants to know what happens w Michael???? #spencer reid #criminal minds #reader #notsopersonalcharlie #charliewrites

[x-de-con-struct-ed-x--arch]

@underconstructicons wanted to see my horse au stuff, so here it is! Not finished, but not a bad start, I don't think.

Will has never been much of a horse person.

He’s worked with them a little bit. Sometimes missions take him places that have limited means of transportation, horseback being one of the more common, and while he’s certainly no expert he knows enough to survive the ride. But other than that?

It’s Sarah who has the experience with horses. She had started taking lessons when she was six, and her parents had bought her a pony for her ninth birthday. According to Sarah he hadn’t been anything too special, just a fat little grade palomino that had to be convinced, bribed, and begged to do anything faster than a lazy trot. But to her he’d been a dream come true, her golden ticket to blue ribbons and silver trophies.

She had smiled at this part, when telling Will all this. “There was no way I could’ve gotten that damn thing over a ground pole, let alone an oxer,” she’d said fondly.

His name had been Lucky, and she’d loved that pony with all her heart.

When Sarah was twelve, her parents had gotten a divorce. Neither parent had the money to support Sarah’s hobby.

She had to quit lessons and sell Lucky.

“I was heartbroken,” Sarah had said quietly. “That little shit had been my best friend for three years. I was losing part of my life.” She paused. “I… don’t know what would’ve happened if I had been able to keep Lucky, though. I was getting too big for him. He was getting old - he hadn’t exactly been a youngster when I’d gotten him in the first place - so... maybe it’s best that we had sold him.” After another pause, she added, “Mom told me he was going to make some other little kid just as happy as he had made me, and that they’ll love him as much as I did.” Sarah snorted, wry smile returning. “I didn’t believe her then.

“I always told myself I’d get another horse someday,” she continued. “Something like a Thoroughbred or an Arabian or a Quarter horse, something that I could ride in shows and win with. I dreamed big. But now I think just a horse. A horse would be nice.

“...Will, what would you say if I said I wanted to get a horse?”

Will had had a lot of things to say to that. Sensible things. Things like how the hell can we afford to feed a horse or where would we even keep it. But somehow, somehow, Sarah had given him equally sensible answers that he really couldn’t argue with. While they didn’t have the room for a horse on the property, there were plenty of farms outside of town, including a riding stable that accepted boarders. The cost of its feed and care would be all wrapped into one fee that Will had to agree was rather manageable. There wasn’t very much holding them back.

“I think it’d be good for us, especially Annabelle. Growing up around horses was one of the best things to ever happen to me. Maybe it’ll be good for her, too.”

...that. Hadn’t been fair. At all.

Sarah had started looking for a horse immediately.

How she had found this one, Will has no idea.

“That’s not a horse,” Will declares, staring wide-eyed at the creature towering above the cows that are milling around the yard. “That’s a dinosaur.”

“He’s a Percheron,” the old man says, nodding toward the horse. “Purebred, as far as I can tell. Stands at just under nineteen hands at the withers.”

...None of that means anything to Will. But apparently it makes sense to Sarah, who mutters holy shit under her breath. “How old is he?” she asks, sounding more than a little awestruck.

“Not entirely sure, but his teeth are good. No more than fifteen, I’d think.”

Will frowns. What the hell do teeth have to do with anything?

“Is he broke?”

“Yes ma’am, both under saddle and in harness. He hasn’t been ridden since my grandkids moved away, but he should only need a refresher.” The old man jerks his head over his shoulder. “I don’t have his tack anymore, but I have a plow rig for him in the barn that I’ll be sending with him - I won’t have any use for it after he’s gone.”

Sarah hums, leaning up against the gate to look at the horse. “Might be a bit difficult to find a saddle for him.”

Will remains silent as Sarah and the old man continue to discuss the horse, still staring out at him with rather mixed feelings. Besides his size, there isn’t much that’s too impressive about him. He’s a dark gray color, but you can barely tell that with all of the mud and cow shit that he’s covered in. His mane and tail are matted with burrs and more cow shit. His droopy eyelids give him a sleepy look, although that could be because he’s actually asleep. Head low and a hind leg tipped in relaxation, he seems completely unbothered by the chaos that the cows create around him.

“Can we bring him out?” Sarah asks, breaking Will from his thoughts. The old man nods and gives a sharp whistle. In an instant the horse’s head pops up and holy shit, if Will thought he was huge before, the beast is absolutely ginormous when standing at attention. His ears swivel towards them for a moment, twitching when the old man whistles again, and takes a few slow steps towards them. He stops at the gate and stretches his neck out to sniff at Sarah’s hair. Sarah laughs, and the horse snorts before sidestepping away. Will jumps in surprise.

That thing’s head is as big as his goddamn torso.

“His eyes are gorgeous,” Sarah remarks, stepping back from the gate so the old man can unlatch it and grab the horse’s halter. The horse steps in place but doesn’t move until he’s pulled forward. Will backs out of the way, fearing for the safety of his feet. Dinner plate hooves.

“Yeah. Bit odd for his breed, but beautiful. He’s actually blind in his left - see the scarring?”

At that Will cautiously looks from the horse’s legs back to his head. He keeps moving it side to side, turning his good eye from person to person. It’s difficult to discern underneath all the muck, but Will thinks he might see it, jagged lines that extend from above his eye and down his cheek. The eye in question is clouded and useless. It makes Will frown. Hesitantly moving a bit closer, he notices that there are other scars, too. Slashes across his nose, multiple marks on his neck, including some over the ridge of his neck where the mane hadn’t grown back in. His legs are full of old wounds, as well.

“Where did all of these come from?” Will asks, pointing at the scars on the horse’s face. He quickly moves his hand away when he jerks his head in his direction. The old man looks at him with an arched eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Beats me,” he says, shrugging. “Most of them he had when he came here. The vet said he must’ve gotten caught up in barbed wire at some point, maybe gotten his ass kicked by other horses. But those--” he gestures towards the deeper scars on the horse’s neck “--are claw marks.”

“Claw marks?” Will’s frown deepens, and Sarah gasps. “What the hell attacked him?”

“Cougar. We had one picking off livestock a couple years back. I lost a bunch of calves to it, and the Henrys down the road lost their best ewes. One night I heard ‘Hide out here screaming and causing a ruckus so I came out to find him tearing down the pasture after something. I don’t think he caught it - if he had I guarantee we would’ve found a body - but we haven’t had a cougar in the area since.”

“...damn,” Will says after a few moments, not sure what else to say. Sarah nods in agreement and looks up at the horse with an awed smile and holding her hand out for him to sniff. He does so with wide eyes and pricked ears, and doesn’t move away when she reaches out to pet him.

“Brave boy then, huh?” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Good at protecting his family.” Her smile grows, and she glances at Will. “I think he’ll fit perfectly.”

“I don’t know about that,” Will grumbles, watching Sarah gently stroke down the horse’s neck. After a moment he sighs and hesitantly reaches out. The horse freezes, nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale.

...aaand that’s all I’ve got. :’)

#mun mags (ooc) #:: 🔧 :: [ mun’s art ] #horse au

[woodelf68]

A Life Worth Living

A fix-it/improving fic for OUAT 7x04, “Beauty”. Fills in some of the blank space between Gideon’s first birthday and the scene on the bridge.  I thought this was going to be a short ficlet, but it just kept growing... Wordcount: 12, 830. Rated G.

“Gideon, wait!” Belle called as their son dashed ahead and clattered up and over the steep curve of the high-arched bridge. “Wait!”

He paused at the bottom, looking back, already tall for his age at ten. “I won’t go far,” he promised. “Come on, Tabby!”

Unlike her brother, it was obvious that seven year-old Tabitha, with her small, fine bones, was going to take after her parents. She took an automatic step after Gideon, then looked back at her mother. “May I?”

Belle sighed. “Oh, all right. But be careful, and stick with your brother. Stay within range of our voices!”

Tabitha beamed her current gap-toothed smile and took off after Gideon, her dark hair flying out behind her. Her brother waited to grab hold of her hand before they both disappeared into the trees at the far end of the bridge.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “They’re just excited. Children aren’t much for scenic views, no matter how stunning.”

“Well, I am,” said Belle, taking his hand in hers. “Did you know that some books say that this bridge is older than time itself? For thousands of years, people have made sacrifices here, making their wishes in this very river. Imagine that kind of ancientness.”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled and stroked her hair, playing with the one white lock that sprang from her temple. “I don’t have to. It’s not the only one to see the generations come and go.”

“Oh, Rumpel -- “ Belle began in exasperation, turning more fully to face him.

“Belle, I’ve been alive for many, many years, and of those years, the last ten have been the happiest I could have ever imagined.” His eyes were full of love as he looked at her.

Belle smiled and ran her hands over his arms, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sleeves. “And we’re just beginning.”

“I know. But there’s only one way I want to llve this life from now on -- as a mortal.”

“What are you saying?” Her heart seemed to stop for a split second, then began to beat faster, in hope and excitement.

“I have a confession. This isn’t just another stop on our adventure; I started thinking after we first read about this place. But I didn’t want to say anything until I’d seen the bridge for myself,  until I’d felt whether there was magic here. And there is, Belle, I can feel the energy of all those wishes here. It’s like a quiet hum all around us. I’ve been a slave to the Dark One for too long, and now I can only hope that this river can grant me my one and only wish -- “ He reached out and caressed her shoulder. “To live a singular, natural life with you.”

“There’s nothing that I would love more.” Belle took both of his hands in hers and squeezed. “But how?”

“True Love’s Kiss can break any curse,” he quoted, smiling.

“But we kiss all the time.” Her face showed her puzzlement.

“Not with intent. Not in a place imbued with the power of belief built up over the centuries. And not when I was fully, 100% sure that I could live without the power, that I didn’t need it anymore.”

It had been years since he’d regularly used magic, ever since that time during Gideon’s first year when Belle had come upon him using his magic to make Gideon’s stuffed animals romp around him, their boy laughing with delight. She’d smiled at the sight, but later that night had turned to him with a face that showed that she been been thinking.

“All the magic that you do, it all comes with a price, yes? What if that price has been taken out of our relationship, caused us to make stupid decisions, to hide things, to lie and doubt one another? I know that we’re in a good place right now, but every time I look at Gideon I think of how we almost lost him, how lucky we are to be given this second chance. And I don’t want anything to screw it up.”

Rumpelstiltskin had blanched, his gut clenching with a sick feeling of dread. Because it was possible. Storybrooke had finally settled down after the Black Fairy’s defeat, and he had had no call for any potions or spells. But magic had become ingrained into his very nature, and some times it was easier to poof someplace rather than walking, or light a fire with a wave of his hand, or use his powers like he had this afternoon, to entertain a four-month-old baby. They were all small things, things that he barely had to think about -- but Belle was right. They added up. And they were unnecessary.

He had vowed then and there to stop using magic unless it was absolutely necessary. What if the very thing that he felt allowed him to protect Belle and Gideon had in fact been extracting its price from their happiness all along?

It had been hard, centuries of habit needing to be broken, but he had done it. By the time they had left Storybrooke on their travels, it was no longer his first  instinct to do things by magic. Outside of Storybrooke, in a world that was virtually without magic -- not quite, because he had felt it, in a few places they’d visited -- it hadn’t even been an option. They’d started their travels in the United States before moving on to other countries. Whenever they’d felt the need to rest and recharge their batteries -- travelling being tiring even without a baby in tow -- they had found a place they’d liked, and settled down for a while. There had been the beach house they’d rented for a month in California, and the rustic wood cabin in the Adirondack Mountains of New York -- except it was probably too big to be called a cabin, but it had felt like one. They’d settled for an entire year in a charming village in the Austrian Alps to give Gideon some routine while he got the challenge of toilet training sorted out, and then for an extended stay in Cambridge, England, after Belle had become pregnant again and they’d wanted the reassurance of a doctor and hospital nearby. Tabitha had been born there, and Rumpelstiltskin wondered how long they might have stayed in that beautiful city, rich with culture and history and enough libraries to delight Belle down to the depths of her very soul, if they hadn’t decided on a visit to Storybrooke, to see Henry graduate from high school.

They’d kept in touch with the occasional postcard and letter and souvenir, Henry always writing back with prompt thanks when he received a present and keeping them apprised of what was going on in Storybrooke. Usually the news was less than exciting, but when he had informed them of his upcoming graduation, saying that he really didn’t expect them to come all that way but he was officially inviting them anyway, they had decided to go, the look of delighted surprise on their grandson’s face making the trip worthwhile. They had spent the summer, airing out their house, introducing Tabitha and letting Henry and Gideon build a relationship.  It didn’t take long for Gideon to warm up to his nephew when Henry brought over a whole box full of his old toys for Gideon to play with, or for Gideon to make friends with Neal Nolan when they met at the ice cream shoppe. Soon Gideon was spending frequent play dates on the Nolan farm and working his way steadily through the children’s books in the Storybrooke Library.  Astrid was working there now, and had made the children’s section her own personal domain, turning it into something that looked like a bright and cheerful corner of the Enchanted Forest.  And Belle was happy to see the whole library thriving under the care of the young woman from the Land of Untold Stories whom she had recruited to help run it when Gideon had been returned to them as an infant. She had wanted to spend as much time with him as possible then, and had known instantly that Matilda Wormwood would make an excellent librarian. It was nice to see the place busy with patrons, and a list of upcoming programs tacked to the bulletin board next to the restrooms.  Belle and Rumpelstiltskin had begun to debate staying and starting Gideon at the elementary school in the fall, when Henry had come to them, full of excitement.

Anton had never given up on the magic beans, and had quietly been experimenting with crossbreeds, creating a new, smaller bean plant from the salvaged remains of the original field, one that would need less resources to grow, and take less time to ripen. This was the first year that he had succeeded in creating a near replica of the original, with the power to open a portal between realms.  Leroy had come running down Main Street, shouting the news. And Henry had wanted to see the Enchanted Forest at long last, to have his own adventure.

“And you think they’re just going to give you a bean?” Rumpelstiltskin asked doubtfully. “To go gallivanting? Two, actually, you’d need one to return.” He’d been letting Gideon have a try at spinning, having taken up the craft again during Gideon’s first year, the desire to create something for his son out of wool that he’d spun himself overcoming the memories of being forced to spin by Zelena while she’d held him captive. He’d had to buy a new wheel, one untainted by that experience, and he didn’t think he’d ever touch straw again, but it wasn’t gold that he wanted, but the softest of yarns. He’d shown Belle how to knit, and soon they’d been able to wrap Gideon in a blanket that they had created between them, with little booties and a hat soon following, imbuing the wheel with new memories.

“I have as much right to a bean as anyone,” Henry said, the look of determination settling on his face reminding Rumpel heartbreakingly of Bae.  “And I want to see where my family comes from. Plus, I’m the Author; shouldn’t that count for something?”

“Henry go somewhere?” Gideon asked worriedly.

“Yeah, kid -- the Enchanted Forest.  Fairy tale land! It’s where most of the people in town come from. It’s got dragons and unicorns and castles, stuff like that.”

“I’ve seen castles,” Gideon said matter-of-factly.

“See?” Henry gestured dramatically. “Even the five-year-old in this family has seen more of the world than me!”

“You could go backpacking across Europe,” suggested Belle dryly. “Less chance of ogres.”

“More chances of plane crashes and terrorist bombings,” Henry retorted. “There are dangers everywhere.”

Rumpelstiltskin inclined his head, glancing at Belle. “The boy has a point.”

“But I’ve never seen a dragon,” Gideon put in, still thinking about what Henry had said.

“And you don’t want to,” Rumpelstiltskin said firmly. “Dragons eat little boys for breakfast.”

“Do they, mama?” Gideon demanded.

“Yes, actually, they might,” Belle said honestly. “You’d make a nice little snack.”

Gideon fell silent, thinking about this.

“Maybe you could put in a good word for me with the town council?” Henry asked hopefully. “There’s going to be a meeting, about the beans.”

“Your father would kill me if I let you go off to the Enchanted Forest alone,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

“Well, you can’t come, you’ve got the kids to look after. And I don’t really want to be tagging around after my parents or grandparents anyway; I want to find my own story. No offense.”

“What about griffins?”

They looked down at Gideon.

“Would griffins eat me?”

“They could, but they probably wouldn’t. Leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone, usually,” Belle said.

“A unicorn wouldn’t eat me,” he said confidently.

“No, but they might nibble at your hair.” Rumpelstiltskin tugged on a silky strand, teasing. “Especially after you’ve been rolling around on the ground and you smell nice and grassy.”

Belle cocked her head and looked at Gideon thoughtfully. “Henry, would you mind keeping an eye on the kids for a few minutes? I want to have a word with your grandfather privately.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Henry glanced at Tabby in her playpen, but she was engrossed in the task of stacking some fat plastic rings of graduating sizes atop one another in the correct order. “C’mon, Gideon, show me what you can do with your remote-controlled car.”

Puzzled, Rumpelstiltskin followed Belle into the library when she crooked her finger at him and closed the door behind them.

“I’ve had an idea,” she said.

As expected, none of the Charmings nor Regina were enthusiastic about Henry’s wish to visit the Enchanted Forest when he petitioned for two beans at the town council that had been called to decide what to do with them.

“I’m old enough to take care of myself!” he protested. “You’ve all been there.”

“Let the lad have an adventure,” said Hook jovially.

“Not reassuring coming from a pirate,” retorted Emma.

“Ex-pirate.” Surprisingly, he had turned into not a bad deputy, Emma having appealed to his pride in running an orderly ship. Storybrooke was now his ship, she had told him, and it was his job to enforce its laws just like he had enforced the rules on his ship. He’d had Keith Nottingham locked up for the night on a drunk and disorderly charge before his first week had been up, and if he’d been a little rough, well, the only one complaining had been Nottingham.

“Would it help,” broke in Belle, “If we went along with him? I think Gideon would enjoy seeing the Enchanted Forest, and there are still many places that I always wanted to visit and never got a chance to do so. We could go through together, and then split up. Henry could go off on his own, but if he runs into any trouble that he can’t handle, all he would have to do is call for Rumpel and he could go  help Henry in a flash. Plus, if we each had a bean, Henry could just create another portal and return to Storybrooke whenever he wanted, or if he needed to.”

“But what about you guys?” asked Emma. “What if you want to come home before him?”

“We could check up on him before we return, and if I didn’t feel confident that he could continue to take care of himself, we’d either stay longer or convince him to come home with us.”

“I think I’d be okay with that,” David allowed.

Snow looked from him to Henry, and then nodded. “Sounds fair. Yes, all right.”

“it would make me feel better to know that Rumpel’s within reach if Henry needs any help,” Regina agreed. “But do you really want to go off traipsing around the Enchanted Realms with a two year-old toddler in tow?”

“We’ll get a wagon,” Belle said. “A covered one, like the tinkers use.”

“You’ll be washing out dirty diapers in cold streams,” Regina warned her. “No Pampers.”

“We’ll manage,” said Rumpelstiltskin drily. “Just like everybody else who lives there.”

Regina thought of Henry’s early days, and shuddered.  “Well, on your own head be it.” She looked at Henry and sighed. “This is important to you, isn’t it?” He nodded. “All right, just promise you won’t try to take on any dragons.”

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he promised. All eyes then turned to Emma.

“Okay, let’s talk about how you’re going to handle the basics,” she said practically. “Food, shelter, warmth. You don’t know how to catch food and prepare it for cooking. And you’re going to need new clothes if you want to blend in, and I don’t want you stealing them.”

“Well, I thought that Mom -- “ he turned to Regina. “ -- could change some of my money so that it looks like the kind of coins they use in the Enchanted Forest. So I could buy anything I need.”

“I could do that,” Regina agreed. “I’ll make sure you have enough for food and lodging for a while, if you don’t let yourself get taken in by some unscrupulous innkeeper. I’ll change some of your clothing into something suitable as well.”

“That’s great.” Henry grinned. He turned back to Emma. “Well, Mom?”

“How do you plan to get around?’ asked Emma. “On foot?”

“Um, how likely is it that I’d get burned as a witch if I took my motorcycle?” he asked, afraid that he already knew the answer. It had been his graduation present, although he was pretty sure that Regina had been under the impression that it would come in handy zipping around some college town, not the Enchanted Forest. He had been thinking of college, and looking at different places, but... He couldn’t pass up this chance. He hated the thought of leaving the motorcycle, though.

“Absolutely not,” declared Emma. “You want to blend in, not stick out like a sore thumb. Besides, there’s the little matter of a lack of gas stations in the Enchanted Forest?”

“I was hoping one of you could maybe enchant the engine to run on something else,” admitted Henry sheepishly.

“What part of “all magic comes with a price” have you forgotten?” Rumpelstiltskin asked wryly. “Making one coin look like another coin, that’s easy, doesn’t take much magic. Same with changing the cut of some clothes. Enchanting a gas engine to run without gas for an indefinite period of time? No, that’s a different story. I have to agree with your mother here. Walk or buy a horse.”

Henry glanced at Regina, but she shook her head. “It’ll be a good chance to improve your riding skills,” she said encouragingly.

Henry sighed. “All right, no motorcycle. So, do we get the beans?”

Emma threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine. But I don’t have to like it. Is there any way we could work out a way to send messages, though, or get in contact?”

“I might be able to do something with mirrors,” Regina said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if it’ll work, but Henry can take along a hand mirror, and I’ll try to enchant it to connect with one in your house. We’ll set up a time for you to tune in on your end, and Henry can try to contact you.”

“That would be fantastic,” said Emma gratefully. “And if not...I expect you to come home at some point, Henry.”

“I promise, Mom.” Henry threw his arms around her in a hug. “Thanks. And all you guys too.” He nodded at everyone.

They went through the portal -- which had appeared as a ring of fire instead of the usual nebulous green swirl -- two weeks later, Henry having gotten drilled in swordfighting and archery and how to start a fire without a match (although he still planned on taking plenty) and Rumpelstiltskin and Belle utilising the time to use up all the perishable foods in their house and try to prepare Gideon for the fact that they were going somewhere without such things as refrigerators and electricity and indoor plumbing. They savoured their last evenings catching fireflies in the yard, and days spent berry-picking, and eating burgers at Granny’s. They took picture after picture of Tabby sleeping peacefully in Gideon’s old nursery and of Gideon in his new bedroom that they’d let him help decorate.It had been a good visit, one they had enjoyed, making new memories and fondly remembering the old ones of Gideon’s first year growing up in their house. But without Henry around, and the chance for their children to build a relationship with their only other living relative, the idea of staying had lost its appeal for the moment. There were also calls and emails sent to Cambridge, to secure their house and things on that end. An unexpected opportunity had come up, they said, and they didn’t know when they’d be back. Maybe a few months, maybe a year at the most, they guessed. That was what they said and what they thought as they went through the portal with Henry, Belle clutching Tabitha tight and Rumple with Gideon’s hand held firmly in one of his own, the other holding onto the handle of a large leather trunk, which might have held a lot more than the average person would have thought, and which might have been floating almost imperceptibly above the ground, to make for easy towing.

“Cloth diapers and safety pins,” Belle had said, when they’d begun making out a list of things to take. “The children’s clothes, and ours.”

“They can each take their favourite stuffed animal, and some toys that won’t seem out of place,” Rumpelstiltskin had added. “Maybe some foods that they’re used to. Their blankets.”

“Books,” Belle had said. “Sewing supplies. Toiletries.”

“First aid supplies. Plenty of gold. Maybe a few things from my lab.”

“Pens, pencils, paper. If Gideon’s going to start school a year late, we’ll have to make sure that he’s up to speed with his peers.” Clean, white paper was a precious thing in the Enchanted Forest, not to be wasted by a child practising his letters.

Fortunately they were used to travelling light, but they also were used to knowing that they would be able to easily purchase needed everyday items at local stores. They had to think about what would not be available in the Enchanted Forest, or hard to obtain at best. But at last they had shoved the lid of the trunk down, and latched the trunk shut.

“Wow,” said Henry as he turned and watched the ring of fire close behind them. “That was cool.” He looked his grandfather over. “You don’t look any different.”

Rumpelstiltskin had been prepared to find himself back to looking like a monster with scaly, greenish-grey skin, and had prepared the children for the possible change. But he was pleasantly surprised to see his hand still looking perfectly human, and ran it over his face, feeling nothing but his normal human skin.

“I don’t know why ,” Rumpelstiltskin confessed. “But I’m glad of it.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve done any dark magic,” pointed out Belle. “Barely any magic at all, really. Maybe that’s why?”

“It’s as good a reason as any.” He shrugged.

Henry looked around, breathing deeply of the fresh air and noticing the quiet, the birds around them having fallen silent. “So, which way?” He hefted his sturdy canvas backpack higher onto his shoulders.

They’d stuck together until they’d reached a nearby town, where Rumpelstiltskin came to the conclusion that they were not in their Enchanted Forest, but another version of it. One that had not been decimated by a Dark Curse.

Henry had grinned broadly at the news. “That’s what I wanted. I wanted to see other versions of the characters I know.”

“Does that mean there’s another version of me here?” wondered Belle. “Another Rumpel?”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

They had bought a sensible cream-coloured mare called Lark for Henry -- Belle putting her through her paces before letting Henry try her out -- and two heavier-built horses to pull, in turns, the brightly-painted caravan they’d found -- a bright chestnut mare with flaxen mane and tail called Penny and a bay gelding with splashy white stockings reaching up to his belly called Taliesin. The contents of Henry’s backpack shifted into a pair of saddlebags and a magic bean tucked safely away in an inside pocket of his jerkin, he hugged each one of them in turn and mounted up. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

“Have fun and stay safe.” Belle smiled up at him, encouraging Tabitha to wave goodbye.

“Remember to call if you need anything,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “And let us know when you’re ready to go back to Storybrooke.”

“I will,” Henry promised. “Bye!” He’d touched his heels to Lark’s sides and lifted the reins, clucking to the mare, and they’d trotted off, leaving the rest of them to begin their own journeys.

It had been the perfect time of the year, with the late summer’s warmth easing into a gentle autumn. The harvest had been bountiful, and market stalls everywhere were full of fresh produce and newly-baked breads and jars of fruit preserves and honey, with which they filled the cabinet next to their little stove.  It wasn’t long before the interior of the caravan had become a cozy, welcoming space, a mix of things from the old world and the new. Belle had wanted to visit  the Frontlands, where they’d discovered that this world’s version of Belle had married a prince whom she had freed from a terrible curse and now lived at his castle. No one had recognise Rumpelstiltskin, though, or his name.

“Which means that I’m not your prince in this world -- but maybe I’m not the Dark One either? Maybe I lived and died in my own timeline?”

“We could ask if anyone’s heard of the Dark One,” Belle suggested, although something about the idea made her uncomfortable. “Or just go see if the Dark Castle’s there, and who lives in it.”

“I don’t know. It might be courting trouble.” He wasn’t sure what bothered him most. The idea of another Dark One running around, or not knowing what had happened to him in this world. Except it was more about what had happened to Bae. Had he had a son? And if he had, had he been conscripted to fight in the ogre war? If so, had he survived that? Had he died young or had he grown up to have a life and family of his own?

Since it turned out that her -- Belle’s -- father in this realm had been an inventor instead of a knight, there was no childhood home for her to stay at, or at least none that held any meaning for her, but the surrounding countryside had looked more or less the same, and she had happily shown Gideon and Tabitha around the places that were so similar to where she had grown up. There were a few awkward meetings with people who “recognised�� her, but she soon had her explanation down pat, and she made an effort to avoid her counterpart in this world. The highlight of the trip was the day they had seen a griffin as they’d hiked through the forest. There had been a rustling in the trees above them, and Gideon had been the first to look up, his eyes growing wide as he’d realised what he was seeing.

“Griffin,” he’d hissed, pointing.

“Wha -- ?”

“Shhh.” Gideon clapped his hand over Tabby’s mouth. “Griffin,” he’d repeated, whispering. “Half lion, half eagle.”

“Just be quiet and don’t move,” Belle said softly, crouching down behind them both, putting an arm around each. “They have very good sight and hearing, but movement is what catches their attention most of all.”

Tabby had nodded her understanding and Gideon had released her, glad of his father’s reassuring presence at his side. After a moment the creature swooped down to the ground, all tawny gold flanks and twitching tail and cream-coloured feathers, and wickedly sharp talons and beak. They had all watched, silent and still, as it had curled up in a sunny spot in the glade they had just been about to enter and began to groom itself. They hadn’t moved until finally it had put its head down and closed its eyes, apparently falling asleep, when they had backed away and left, circling around the glade before they had felt safe to resume talking again at their normal volume.

The days turned shorter, and cooler, the trees turning vibrant shades of red and gold. When frost began to appear on the grass in the mornings, they discussed what to do for the winter. Belle was ready to move on, should they find somewhere snug to hole up until the spring? Travel south, to warmer lands?  She came up with the idea of visiting Arendelle instead, where she bumped into Anna and called her by name before remembering this wasn’t the Anna that she knew.

“I’m sorry; do I know you?’ Anna had asked.

Belle had shook her head. “You do and you don’t -- it’s a long story.”

“Oh, I like stories!” Anna had said cheerfully “Tell me it?”

When Belle had finished her explanation, Anna had looked at them shrewdly. “So you don’t think magic is bad?”

“Not inherently, no,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “But all magic comes with a price. May I guess -- is your sister having trouble controlling her powers?”

“Yes!” Anna exclaimed with relief. “We’re working on it, but --”

“Rumpel, could you help her?” Belle interrupted.

“Yes, I probably could. I have some experience dealing with magic myself,” he explained to Anna, and her face lit up.

“Really? That would be awesome! Thank you! Can you come home with me now? We could give you dinner and everything.”

Elsa had been at first wary of accepting magic lessons from a stranger, but by the end of the night she had felt for the first time the hope that she might eventually learn to completely control her powers and had invited Rumpelstiltskin and his family to stay with them. Rumpelstiltskin had accepted, giving her daily lessons, Gideon and Tabitha falling in love with the reindeer and spending hours building snowmen and snow forts, and learning how to ice skate and sledding and going on sleigh rides. And inside there were always warm fires where one could read or listen to stories or simply snuggle up in a blanket and daydream while watching the sparks dance. They had left a much more confident, controlled, and happy Elsa in the spring and began making their way south again.

They traveled as the whim took them, seeking out natural wonders and strange creatures, visiting all the places that Belle had once dreamed about, until the sun-baked days of summer began to make the caravan uncomfortably stuffy instead of cozy, and Gideon and Tabitha took it in turns riding in front of Belle on whichever horse was not currently in harness, while Rumple drove, temporarily trading the relief of the shade for some slightly fresher air moving against their faces, and everybody growing more and more crabby and short-tempered.

“It’d be cool in the Dark Castle,” Belle suggested finally, a topic which had been shut down swiftly the last time it had been brought up.  

Rumpelstiltskin’s face grew shuttered. “We don’t know if it’s even there, or unoccupied. And you know that’s where she --”

“For the first, there’s only one way to find out. And for the second, I also know that’s where we fell in love,” said Belle gently. “If it’s empty -- maybe it’s time to try to exorcise that particular demon? Maybe it won’t even look that same, but if being there makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want to stay, we don’t have to, but perhaps we could at least visit?  Maybe it would help to banish the bad memories, to see Gideon and Tabby running around there?  We could even camp in the gardens, if inside is too painful.  Or at least stay there in the mountains till the weather cools.”

So they had headed for the lands surrounding the Dark Castle, and found the same village at the foot of the mountain. It had been market day, and Belle had looked around the sellers, choosing an old woman who was chatting garrously with a customer. The counters of her booth held baskets filled with beautifully dyed skeins of wool. “The spinner,” Belle said, pointing, when the woman’s customer had left.

Rumpelstiltskin followed with the children as she led the way, knowing that they needed information before approaching the castle but not quite knowing the best way to go about it. Belle obviously had no problem with it, however, for after complimenting the woman on her goods, she got right to the point.

“Have you ever heard of someone called the Dark One?” she asked boldly.

“Ah, now that’s one of my favourite stories, always has been,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling, and that was not the reaction that either of them had been expecting.

“What do you mean?” asked Belle cautiously.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, we’re travelers, and we heard the name...”

“Well, famous local legend, I’m not surprised. And who doesn’t love a story about true love?”

Belle glanced at Rumpelstiltskin, smiling, and Gideon bounced on his toes, filled with the secret knowledge that she was talking about another version of his parents. “Tell us!”

“Well, the Dark One was a powerful wizard, but he wasn’t always like that. Once he was but a humble spinner, like myself, but he took on a curse to save his son from being drafted in the Ogre War. Terrible it was, but they were down to taking children to fight, having run out of trained soldiers. It was a death sentence, of course, and the man who became the Dark One knew it. Now the Dark One at that time was in thrall to the Duke of these lands, and was forced to do terrible, terrible things. He was tired of life, tired of being cursed, and he tricked the spinner into stealing the dagger that controlled him and killing him, thus passing on the curse to the spinner. Now the new Dark One, the spinner took his power and used it to end the war, saving not only his son but bringing all the children home.”

Rumpelstiltskin was stunned to hear that all the details of his life were not only the same so far, but were being accurately recounted. He felt Belle slip her hand into his, and he squeezed it gratefully.

“So he was good,” Gideon said with satisfaction. “Then what happened?”

“Well, all magic has a price, you know, and the power changed him, both inside and out. His fingernails grew long and sharp and black, as black as his rotted teeth, and skin turned as scaly as a lizard’s.” She curled her fingers like claws and made a menacing gesture at Gideon, who automatically leaned back  slightly but then grinned. It was obvious the old woman was a storyteller in full flow, enjoying having a new audience. “And he was quick to anger, quick to strike out. Although perhaps it was simply that he finally had the power to act against those who had made his life miserable before, who had mocked him and called him coward.”

She paused, and Belle had the sense that she was waiting for a certain question, that she had told this story many times before to her own children and grandchildren. “Why did they call him coward?’ she asked softly.

“Because he’d lamed himself to get out of the army,” she said promptly. “Took a great big sledgehammer and smashed his own leg.”

Gideon winced visibly, and Rumpelstiltskin began to wonder how she knew all this, things that had been long forgotten by anyone but himself as he had outlived the villagers who had once known him as an ordinary man.

“That sounds painful,” Gideon said sympathetically, and the woman nodded.

“I’m sure it was! Very painful! He might have lost part of his leg, for all he knew!  Personally, I’d rather take the chance of getting killed by an ogre in battle than the surety of living with a horrifically mangled leg, in pain, every day for the rest of my life. So why do you think he did it? ”

“Maybe,” said Gideon carefully, “He had a family at home who needed him.”

“Right you are!” The woman beamed at him. “Do you know what had happened? A seer had told him that his wife was pregnant, but he would die if he went on the battlefield the next day. And he didn’t want his child to have to grow up without a father, like he had, after his own no-good father had abandoned him as a child.” Scorn dripped from her voice, but it was obviously for Malcolm. “Can you imagine that, your daddy just up and leaving you?”

“Never,” said Gideon stoutly, and Rumpelstiltskin squeezed his son’s shoulder, filled with a rush of love. “I think what the spinner did was brave, not cowardly.” Belle looked at Rumpelstiltskin oddly, realising that this woman knew an awful lot about his story that certainly hadn’t been common knowledge in her time. He raised his shoulders helplessly. But as disquieting as it was to hear his life story recounted by a stranger, as least she seemed to understand, and be on his side -- or at least, this other Dark One.

“That’s what I think, too,” said the old woman, “But most people didn’t. He was sent home in disgrace from the army when he was healed enough to be able to walk, although a slow, painful walk it was, hobbling along with a stick for support. News had flown ahead of him, though, and he came home to a wee baby boy and a wife who hated him for what he had done.”

“She was mean!” Gideon said heatedly, defending his father. “He had done it for her, for her and the baby!”

“So he had, but she didn’t see it that way, nor care much for being a mother. But Rumpelstiltskin -- did I tell you his name was Rumpelstiltskin? Funny ol’ name, isn’t it? -- oh, how he loved being a father! He never regretted what he had done, because it meant he could be there for his son, to raise him and love him as fiercely as he knew how.”

Rumpelstiltskin felt a lump form in his throat, as his actions were validated by a perfect stranger.

“And then what happened?” prompted Belle, squeezing Rumpel’s hand.

“Well, eventually his wife leaves them, runs off with a pirate.” The woman sounded like she wanted to turn her head and spit. “And he’s left to struggle all alone, raising his boy. But he does it, until the day came when he became the Dark One. And then it wasn’t a struggle any longer, because they weren’t poor anymore, one of his powers being the ability to spin straw into gold. So he buys them a fine new house, and fine new clothes, and there’s good food, and plenty of it, on the table. But...his son wasn’t happy. He could see the darkness taking over his father, turning him into someone frightening and strange, someone who could kill without a thought. He wanted his old papa back. So he called on the Blue Fairy, and he asked her what he could do.”

Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t quite keep the snarl from escaping his throat.

The old woman looked at him with surprise but continued with her story. “And what do you think she said?” she asked, looking at Gideon.

“That they needed to go to a land without magic?” he suggested.

The woman frowned. “What? No. She asked him if he still loved his father, and he said yes. And she said that True Love’s Kiss could break any curse.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked at Belle, startled. Could it have been that simple? Could the Blue Fairy of this realm actually be someone who wanted to help people?

“Do you mean that B -- “ Gideon caught himself, remembering that she hadn’t mentioned the son’s name. “-- the son kissed his father, and it broke his curse?”

“He did indeed. And they lived happily ever after. And do you know how I know all this?”

“You said it was a famous local legend,” Belle reminded her.

“Yes, but who’s been telling it all these years, passing it down from one generation to another?”

Rumpelstiltskin had the first inkling of a guess. “What happened to the boy, the son?”

“He grew up, married his childhood sweetheart, and they had a flock of kids.”

“And you’re -- “

“His great great granddaughter.” She beamed at them.

Rumpelstiltskin’s head was spinning. Bae had lived, had married, had had children. Presumably had died at a ripe old age, as the old woman had said they had lived happily ever after. And this other Rumpel had been there to see it all, to be part of it. There had been no separation. He wanted to cry.

“Wow. That’s an incredible story. Thank you for sharing it,” Belle said. She glanced at Rumpelstiltskin, and saw that he had pressed his face into Tabby’s soft curls, his eyes closing briefly to hide his reaction.

“But...” Gideon’s brow was furrowed, until he remembered that in this world, his mother had married somebody else, that his father -- well, sort of -- hadn’t lived long enough to meet her. But he had been happy, and his uncle Bae had been too. So he guessed it was all right. “Did the spinner ever marry again?”

“As a matter of fact he did. He became friends with a widow woman who was struggling to raise her daughter on her own. He soon doted on the wee lass, and loved her like she was his own.They say it was a marriage of convenience at first, his son needing a mother and her daughter needing a father, but there are worse things to base a marriage on than friendship. And after a while, love grew and they had a very happy marriage by all accounts.”

“Oh.” Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback, but glad for his other self. “Well, that was nice for all of them.” Bae would have loved a little sister, he thought. “I guess the talent for spinning has stayed in the family, then,” said Rumpelstiltskin, recovering and bringing himself back to the present.

“Not gold, but worth a few coppers, eh? See anything you like?”

Rumpelstiltskin would have given her a silver coin just for her story, but he knew such largesse would raise suspicions as to his identity, and he also knew the satisfaction that came with having one’s hard work appreciated. He shifted  Tabby in his arms so that she could see the yarns. “What colours do you like, sweetheart? We could use them to make you a new sweater for autumn.”

Tabby picked out some soft greens and a lovely shade of plum.

“That’ll be twelve coppers,” the woman said, and Rumpelstiltskin gave her the silver coin, worth twice that.

“For the yarn and the story,” he said. “One more question -- a flock?”

“Well, four. Which is quite enough with children, mind you.”

“What about the castle, though?” asked Gideon, remembering what they really wanted to know about.

“What castle? The one up on the mountain?”

“Yes.”

“That was where the previous Dark One lived, not my ancestor. Nobody’s lived there since, nobody would dare. And who’d want to anyway? Think of all those rooms to clean!”

Belle smirked. “You’d need a maid.”

“Several, I should think! Or magic, I guess.”

Rumpelstiltskin shared a look with Belle, and grinned. “Thank you for everything -- may I ask your name?”

“Jennet, and you’re welcome. Nice to have new ears for my old stories.”

“That’s a lovely name,” said Belle. She took Gideon’s hand. “Come on Gideon, let’s go.”

The long-abandoned castle was a mess. A window had broken, and dirt and debris lay all over the Great Hall, and piles of leaves where animals had come in and made a dens for themselves. Things had fallen over, been smashed, begun to rot.  The place was both familiar and unfamiliar, but that could be fixed.  When Rumpelstiltskin automatically raised his hand, intending to set the castle back to rights in an instant, Belle had grabbed it and shook her head.

“No magic. We do this by hand.”

“Could I just mend the window?” he asked meekly. “We don’t want a bear or a wolf wandering in and carrying off the children.”

“Oh, all right,” she agreed.

With a quick gesture, he mended the window, then pivoted around, his hand still raised, and all the windows in sight became sparkling clean as well.

“Rumpel!” she chided.

“We need light to work,” he explained, unrepentent, and she had sighed.

They had all pitched in, deciding what was ruined and what could be kept, Belle  allowing Rumpelstiltskin to provide a little magical assistance in conveying the trash outside as she realised that there was no way they would be able to shift some very heavy furniture otherwise without breaking it into smaller pieces.  When they’d cleared out as much as possible from the kitchen, Great Hall, and two bedrooms, they set to work sweeping and mopping and polishing and dusting, Gideon sturdily helping until he was too tired, and then proving invaluable in keeping Tabby entertained and out of trouble. It was so obviously not his Great Hall that the image of a cage, of being trapped in it and at Zelena’s mercy, simply didn’t impose itself upon this place, for which he was profoundly grateful. And despite the fact that they had never lived in this particular Dark Castle, between all their hard work in cleaning it and seeing Gideon and Tabby running around it, by the time it -- or at least those rooms they’d concentrated on -- was habitable, they had made it into their place.  They could tackle the rest of the castle at a more leisurely pace. The hardest thing, in fact, was how difficult he found it to abstain from magic in a place where it had been his whole life. It prickled under his skin, kept his fingers constantly twitching with the urge to clean up, or summon meals, or place protection spells on the children to keep them from touching anything dangerous. There wasn’t the huge collection of magical objects on display here that he had accumulated in their own realm, if this castle had belonged to a version of Zoso, then he would have been a mere pawn who had been kept dancing attendance on the duke who held his dagger, but he didn’t know what might be hidden away, waiting to be found.They’d had a conversation with the children about the price of magic, and how it should never be used without good reason, but after that Gideon had quickly learned the tell-tale movements his father made when about to do magic, and hearing his 7 year-old son pipe up with a chiding “PAPA, NO” did more than anything to remind Rumpelstiltskin why he was avoiding using magic in the first place. Once the castle was back in order again, they made it their home base for the summer, but spent just as much time outdoors as in, in the gardens or exploring further out, the air in the mountains pleasant enough compared to the lowlands. They headed back down to more populated lands in time for the harvest festivals, joining in the singing and dancing and feasting that they offered, and Belle suggested visiting Sherwood, and seeing how Roland fared.

In place of the cherubic child they remembered, they were greeted by a lean young man of striking good looks, but the dark, wavy hair was the same, as were the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. After expressing surprise at their appearance, he had asked after Regina, and had been glad to hear that she had been doing well the last time that they had seen her. The band was a mix of old and new faces, and they’d stayed with them for several days, Gideon getting his first lessons on how to shoot a bow and how to tickle trout.

In the winter they journeyed south to Agrabah, and then spent a while on the nearest coast, all white sands and blue waters, where the children could paddle in the warm waters and Tabitha learned to swim. As spring approached, though, their occasional thoughts of Henry solidified into a worry that they couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I mean it’s good that he hasn’t had any need to call on you,” said Belle. “But I’m surprised that we haven’t heard from him yet. It’s been almost two years!”

“We should have told him about messenger doves,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Let’s head back towards the Enchanted Forest and we can send one.”

Where are you?, they’d sent, as soon as Rumpelstiltskin was able to call a dove to him.  It returned several days later, and Rumpelstiltskin held it gently while Belle untied the scroll of paper that had been attached to its leg. 

“What does it say?” he asked, releasing the bird. It hopped onto a nearby branch.

Belle unrolled the paper. “Tiana’s kingdom. Married Cinderella --

“What?”

“ -- Having a baby. Come visit.” Belle glanced up with wide eyes, meeting Rumpelstiltskin’s own dumbfounded look. 

“Surely he’s joking,” he hazarded, unable to wrap his head around the idea of Henry having not only gotten married but in the role of expectant father. 

“There’s only one way to find out. Do you know where Tiana’s kingdom is?”

They arrived to find all was as Henry had said, and Regina already there. Gideon ran to Henry, who bent down to hug him. 

“Hey, kid! I missed you. And look at you, Tabby, how big you’ve grown! Do you remember me?”

Once their reunion was over, they settled down for tea and to exchange stories. 

“Henry told Emma, and Emma told me, and I decided my family was here,” Regina said, smiling at Henry and Ella, visibly pregnant.  

“Where is Emma?’ asked Belle. 

Regina shrugged. “Still in Storybrook. She’s a 21st century girl -- this isn’t really her scene. And besides, someone has to look after the place now that I’m gone. But the mirror link works, so she and Henry get to talk every week.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite us to your wedding,” Rumpelstiltskin said indignantly, looking at Henry. 

“You didn’t invite me to your wedding,” Henry accused him. “And I thought the magical summoning thing was only for emergencies. I didn’t want you to think I was in danger and you had to come immediately and leave Belle and the kids alone.” 

Rumpelstiltskin looked abashed. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking clearly back then. It happened spur of the moment, and...” He shook his head. “Would you have come, would you have been my best man if I had asked?”

“Of course!” Henry exclaimed. “I would have been honoured. And I’m glad you came looking for me; I’m glad you’re here now.”

“So am I.  I wouldn’t miss the birth of my great-granddaughter for the world.” He glared at Regina. “You could have found me, once you came. Or told Henry about messenger doves. Why didn’t you?”

“I...just didn’t think about it, I guess. I’m sorry; I should have.” 

She sounded genuinely contrite and Rumpelstiltskin accepted the apology. “Well, no matter. We’re here now.”

Lucy was born three months later, and after mother and baby had had a rest, Rumpelstiltskin got a chance to hold her for the first time.”Hello, sweetheart,” he said softly, cradling her in expert arms. “I’m your great-grandpa.” He made a face at Lucy and was rewarded by her reaching out to grab at his nose with her tiny fingers. His face split into a grin, Belle smiling as she waited her turn to hold Lucy.  After a few more minutes he gently handed the baby to Belle as she held her arms out.

They’d stayed for a while longer, until it was clear that the new parents could handle things on their own and that perhaps Henry and Ella might like more chances to be alone than they could get with five guests staying with them. The kids had grown restless by then, Gideon especially chafing under the need to be quiet when the baby was sleeping and missing the Henry who used to have time to play with him. With Regina staying, they didn’t feel like they were leaving Henry and his new family alone or unprotected.

“But now you know about doves,” Rumpelstiltskin said as they said their goodbyes a few days later, embracing Henry and thumping him on the back. “Stay in touch. And take care of that little daughter of yours; they grow up all too fast.”

“I will,” Henry promised.

They took to the road again, the years waxing and waning and the children growing and thriving.  They began talking of the future; the caravan was becoming more cramped than cosy and Gideon old enough that he wanted some space of his own to be private in. They could buy a house near Henry, they suggested. Or maybe it was time to return to the Land Without Magic, while the children were still young enough to adapt more easily. They were still unsettled as to a decision the day that they’d passed through a town large enough to have a school for boys. They had been walking by its fenced-in yard when the door of the school had opened and boys of all ages had come streaming out, running and yelling. Some had quickly formed up into teams and had begun kicking a ball around, another group of younger boys had pulled out long strings of shiny conkers from their pockets and had begun their game of trying to hit and smash their opponent’s conker not far from where they were standing.

Gideon had pressed himself against the fence, his face coming alive with excitement. “Can I go play with them, Papa?”

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at Belle, unsure. “I don’t know; this is a school, and you’re not a student here.”

“Could I be?” Gideon’s eyes were still on the playing boys, and Rumpelstiltskin suddenly became more aware than ever  that Gideon was growing up, that he was no longer a little boy who was content with his parents’ company and who might yearn for playfellows of his own age.  In Austria, he had had the neighbour boy Felix to play with, and it had taken a long time after they had left before Gideon had stopped talking about his friend on a daily basis. And in Storybrooke he had quickly made friends with Neal Nolan, and had spent many a day playing on the Nolan’s farm with Neal and their dog Wilby.

“Would you like to be?” Belle asked, startled, but it touched on something that she and Rumpel had been discussing. So far, they felt that they’d been able to give Gideon a good general education, but he was reaching the age where he would really benefit from proper teachers in more specialised subjects. And if they were going to ever return to the Land Without Magic, should they be teaching them about its history, its world of science?

Gideon thought about it for a moment in his usual careful way. “I don’t know. What’s it like, going to school?”

“Well, I’ve never been and your Mama had private tutors, but you’d be learning things like what she and I teach you,” Rumpelstiltskin explained. “Reading and writing, and math and science and history, but you’d be learning them in a class with a bunch of other boys your own age. If it’s like the school that Henry went to, you’d go there in the morning, eat lunch there, and come home in the afternoon. Would you like that?”

Gideon scrunched up his face, thinking. “Yes, I think so.”

Belle’s heart gave a pang as she came to the same conclusion that Rumpelstiltskin had. Gideon needed -- no, he deserved --friends that he wouldn’t have to leave in a week or a month.  And someplace to call home, some stability.  “We’d have to ask some questions,” she said. “Find out if this is a good school, first of all. We could look for another, if not. And if they’re willing to accept a new pupil.” The boys looked happy and healthy enough, she thought, which seemed a good sign.

At that moment one of the smaller boys, perhaps a couple of years younger than Gideon, came wandering along the fence, eyes on the ground as he sought out any newly-fallen conkers from the huge horse chestnut tree in the corner of the yard, seizing on a couple and dropping them into a rough sack that he carried. Gideon, seeing what he was after, spotted a few of the spiky-hulled pods on their side of the fence and picked them up.

“Hey!,” he called. “You want these?” He held them out.

The boy’s eyes lit up as he came over, big blue eyes in a pleasant, freckled face framed by thick brown hair. “Don’t you want them?”

Gideon shrugged. “You can have them.”

“Thanks!” The boy accepted the gift. “Oh, great, these two are already cracked.” He dropped them on the ground and drove the heel of his sturdy boot down onto first one and then the other, stooping to pick out the glossy brown conkers from the shattered hulls. He pocketed them and looked from Gideon to his parents and back again. “Are you new here?”

Rumpelstiltskin moved closer, holding onto Tabby’s hand. She squatted down and picked up a stick to play with, swishing it back and forth through the air. From the muttering under her breath, Rumpel thought that she might be playing fairy wands.  “We might be. Can you tell me, is this a good school?”

The boy’s nose wrinkled up. “I guess so. Most of the masters are pretty nice, as long as you do your work and don’t goof off in class. And we get playtime every day.”

“What about subjects?” asked Belle. “What are you taught?”

The boy shrugged. “The usual stuff, I suppose. Sums, and writing.” He brightened. “We’re doing botany right now. Do you know what that is?”

“The study of plants.” Rumpelstiltskin smiled.

”Yes. Like these --” He took one of the conkers out of his pocket. “It looks like it would be good to eat, like a regular chestnut, doesn’t it? But it’s not; it’s poisonous. Eat it and you’d die,” he said with relish.

“That’s very true,” said Belle. “And important information to know.”

“Like with mushrooms,” Gideon agreed. “Some you can eat, some you can’t, and sometimes they’re hard to tell apart.”

“Yep.” The boy nodded. “Hey, do you know the difference between poisonous and venomous?”

Gideon thought for a moment. “Well -- “

The boy didn’t wait for an answer. “If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.”

Gideon laughed.  “Like snakes.”

“That’s actually a very good definition,” Belle approved. She looked around. It was a pleasant-looking town, tidy and prosperous, the sign for a booksellers visible directly across the street from the school. She could be happy here, she thought. 

“It’s up to you, Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, watching her.

“Well, if we talk to the headmaster and everything sounds good and he’s agreeable, then if Gideon wants to go to school here, than Gideon shall go to school here,” she said firmly.

“I don’t have to go to school, do I?” Tabby looked up, sounding faintly alarmed.

“Do you want to?” Belle asked.

“No,” she declared in a very decided fashion.

Belle laughed. “Then you can continue to stay at home and keep me company, she assured her daughter.

“All right, let’s go find the headmaster,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“His name’s Master Jerrold,” the boy supplied. He eyed Gideon. “You’d probably be in the class ahead of me, but I could still show you around if you like. If you start coming here.”

“Well, thank you, Master -- “ Rumpelstiltskin hesitated. “May I ask your name?”

“Roderick.”

Rumpelstiltskin and Belle shared a startled look, barely hearing Gideon introducing himself in turn. Gideon, in the brief time they’d known him as an adult, hadn’t told them much about his time in the Dark Realm, but he had shared a name, a name of a boy that he felt that he had failed. Surely it couldn’t be the same boy...could it? Could the lives of all the stolen children have been reset as Gideon’s had been? Gideon, blessedly free of any memories of his time there, was oblivious, showing no reaction to the name.

“Well, Roderick, thank you for the information and the kind offer,” Belle said, and the boy took that as his leave, waving as he ran off.  She looked at Rumpelstiltskin, her voice low. “It’s got to be a coincidence, right?’

“Has to be,” he replied, just as softly, but not sounding entirely certain. But...he died, he could still hear Gideon say, his voice wrecked. It wasn’t a particularly unusual name; it was just that the age was right. A couple of years younger than him, Gideon had said. He shook his head. “I don’t see how it could be otherwise.”

Belle nodded. “But it feels like a good omen, though, doesn’t it? Like we’re meant to be here.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Gideon demanded, coming over.

Tabby tapped him with her stick.“Be a frog!” she commanded.

“Ribbit,” he said automatically, but he wasn’t in the mood to play, watching his parents.

“Oh, we were just thinking that maybe it’s time to put down some roots,” Belle deflected, ruffling his hair.

Master Jerrold had turned out to be pleasant and welcoming, and his curriculum having passed muster, they’d enrolled Gideon, and he’d taken to formal schooling like a duck to water, soon excelling in the classroom and making friends amongst the boys, his long legs making him a popular choice when the boys divided up into teams to play football during their afternoon break. They’d found the perfect house for them on the edge of town, made of the local warm yellow stone, with a walled garden and a fenced-in field behind the house that was perfect for Taliesin and Penny. There were separate bedrooms for Gideon and Tabitha, a water pump right in the kitchen, and even a room that had obviously been a library, its bare shelves waiting to be filled with books. In fact, it had seemed almost too perfect, but when Rumpelstiltskin had run a finger through the dust on the kitchen table and asked the property owner why the place had obviously lain vacant for some time, the man had shrugged and said that most business people lived above their shops, and newly wedded couples looking to start a home of their own usually wanted something smaller and cheaper.  It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and it wasn’t till the year turned and the spring days grew ever warmer that they discovered that the smell from the nearby tannery -- something that they had soon grown used to over the fall and the winter -- intensified into a pungent reek with the heat.

But since by then the house had become a home, moving seemed unimaginable, especially as Gideon had delightedly discovered on their very first day that Roderick was the tanner’s son, the boys’ friendship soon leading to Rumpelstiltskin and Belle becoming friends with the tanner and his wife. So they simply spent the worst days within the confines of the walled garden, surrounded by the fragrant scents of lilacs and roses and wisteria, and Belle had agreed that perhaps a tiny whisper of magic to keep the smell out of the house was allowable. Hopefully the price was no more than the renewed shock of the briefly-forgotten smell when they ventured outside again in the morning. Roderick became an even more frequent visitor on those hot, still days, expressing his puzzlement that the smell didn’t carry inside but glad of it. Midway in age between Gideon and Tabitha, he was a welcome playfellow, amenable to both the rough-and-tumble play that Gideon had been craving and Tabby’s more imagination-based games. Midsummer came and went, and the boys’ school closed down until September.

“Master Jerrold says we’re all too hot and sleepy to learn anything in summer,” Gideon said.  “We just have to write a paper on anything that interests us over the holiday.”

It didn’t take long for Belle to suggest a trip, and Rumpelstiltskin had sought Master Jerrold’s advice on places of interest in the region that they might visit. He’d already learned that the man had an excellent library of his own, and Jerrold was kind enough to lend him a volume on the history and geography of the area. Belle had seized upon the book happily, and they had worked out an itinerary for their trip. With their caravan freshly washed and loaded, they had put Penny between its shafts, and set out with Gideon riding Taliesin bareback alongside them.

And now here they were, on the bridge that they had read of, the tales associated with it having gotten Rumpelstiltskin to thinking. Maybe it was a foolish hope to think that it would be that easy, but he could feel the energy surrounding the place. And they had to start somewhere.

“What if it doesn’t work?” asked Belle, concern large in her eyes.

He shrugged. “Then we try something else. Maybe I should just chuck the dagger in the river.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good idea,” she said dubiously.

“Well, then you’d better put some effort into your kiss,” he teased.

Belle smirked, and threaded her fingers into the silky, feathered hair that fell past his collar. “I’ll do my best.” She gazed into his eyes, remembering that first kiss back in the Dark Castle, the absolute conviction she’d had that he loved her as much as she loved him, despite nothing having ever been said on the subject. Now she had years of memories, so many years of knowing to call upon, image after image flitting through her brain as he bent his head down to her, their lips touching. Their heads tilted in synchronization, finding the perfect angle, and Belle felt Rumpel’s arms come around her as their breaths mingled and she concentrated as hard as she could. I love you, she thought. I will always love you.  

Rumpel felt the first tingle of magic, but was afraid to let go, to stop kissing Belle, lest it be too soon. Go, he thought at it. I don’t want you, I don’t need you. Just Belle. Belle and Gideon and Tabby. He tightened his arms around Belle, as a fierce pang lanced through him. And Bae. Oh, son... He felt the magic strengthen, and then it flared, strongly enough to cause him to jerk back in shock  

Belle’s eyes flew open and she surveyed him anxiously. “What happened? Did it work?”

Rumpelstiltskin took a deep breath. He felt lighter, somehow. Hesitantly he probed for the voices; they’d gone mostly dormant after he’d given up using magic but he could always waken them with a thought. Now, nothing responded.  Heart thudding in his chest, he reached down to pull out the dagger sheathed in his boot. Slowly he lifted it up so they could both see.

The blade was bare of any name.

“Rumpel! We did it!”

Belle flung her arms around him and he quickly moved the dagger off to his side. “Careful, you don’t want to be the next Dark One!” he chuckled, even as he hugged her back with one arm, a giddy sense of freedom sweeping through him.

“Oh! Is it still cursed? Or did we destroy it altogether?”

He hesitated. The blade felt inert to him. But he could still feel the energy surrounding the bridge, buzzing now even more strongly than before. “I think... it’s gone from the dagger. If the Dark One still exists in any shape or form, it’s no longer bound to the dagger. If anything, it went back to the Vault and is safely contained there, with no way to summon it out. But I think...I think that it’s been finally laid to rest. But better safe than sorry, I’m not about to stab someone to find out.”

He sheathed the dagger back in his boot. thinking he would bury it somewhere. Maybe beneath the foundation of a building, let it be covered by tons of brick or stone. He didn’t want to see it ever again in his lifetime, but he didn’t want to take any chances that even the smallest shard of the curse might still cling to it and be discovered by someone else. “Belle?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you feel the magic here?”

Her smile changed to a frown. “You mean at this bridge? I felt like this was someplace special, when we came here, like I could believe the stories about it? But not specifically magic, no. What do you feel?”

“It was like a low-level humming when we first got here; now it’s crackling with new energy. But if I could feel it then, when I was still the Dark One, and I can still feel it now...”

He held out his palm. The fire didn’t come to him with barely a thought, as it used to. He had to think it into being, as he had taught Regina and Cora and Zelena to think it into being. But it came, a small fireball forming in the air directly above his hand, hot but not burning.

“You can still do magic,” Belle exclaimed. “Does that mean -- “

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, grinning, as he closed his fist over the flames and extinguished them. “No, I’m not still the Dark One. It’s different, I can feel it, there’s not that endless well of power on tap. But my mind still knows how to harness energy and emotion and transform it, and there’s a lot of it in the air  here right now. Don’t worry, I’m not going to abuse it, but it’s still nice to know that I have some skill left in that area if it’s ever needed.”

“Well, I’m glad, then.” She took his hands in hers. “What about Henry, though? You won’t be able to hear him if he calls for you, will you?”

“No, that was something that came with the curse. I think he’s proven that he can take care of himself, but still, we should visit and tell him the news. He needs to know that if he runs into trouble, I won’t be able to show up at his call. It’ll be nice to see them, anyway; Lucy must be starting to walk by now.” They’d visited a couple of times, but it had been almost a year now.

“It still seems hard to believe sometimes that Henry ended up staying here,” Belle observed. “Do you think he’ll ever go back? Do you think we will?”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “I don’t know. There are some things I miss, but the children are happy, and so are we. Maybe we should try to convince Henry and Ella to move someplace closer to us.”

Rumpelstiltskin and Belle had reached the bottom of the bridge when the bushes ahead of them rustled and Gideon popped back out. “Aren’t you coming?” he demanded. “We found something that we want to show you!”

“Where’s Tabby?” asked Belle, when she didn’t appear behind Gideon. “We’ve got something to tell you.”

“Can it wait? They might leave. Hurry!”

“You left her behind?” Rumpelstiltskin demanded, picking up his pace. “And what do you mean by ‘they’?”

“It’s not far, and she promised not to move from the spot where I left her.” Gideon’s eyes danced with delight.. “And I’m not telling, it’s a surprise.” He turned and began weaving back through the trees, glancing back to make sure that they were following.  

Rumpelstiltskin and Belle looked at one another and Belle shrugged with a smile and took Rumpel’s hand as they followed their son.  If Gideon felt that it was safe to leave Tabby, she undoubtedly was. “I bet it’s some baby animals,” she guessed shrewdly, and though Gideon didn’t say anything, the look on his face as he glanced back was telling.

“Twin fawns?” suggested Rumpelstiltskin.

“Fox kits playing in front of their den?” hazarded Belle.

Gideon’s excitement seemed to warrant something more out of the ordinary, though. “Unicorns?” Rumpelstiltskin asked doubtfully. Not aggressive usually, but a mother guarding her foal might take even a little girl for a threat. Still, both children knew not to approach any wildlife, to watch from a distance only.

Gideon grinned and put his finger to his lips, cautioning silence, as he slowed his steps, taking care where he put his feet. Belle glanced ahead and saw Tabby sitting cross-legged on the ground beside a large tangle of blackberry vines, scratching a unicorn foal whose head rested in her lap contentedly. The mother was nearby, nibbling at the berries, keeping one eye on them but obviously not too concerned.

Tabby looked up at their approach, her expression one of rapture. “I didn’t go up to it, I swear! He came to me, and I just reached out and stroked him, and he liked it and plopped right down!”

Gideon eased down beside her, but didn’t attempt to touch the unicorn, afraid he’d startle it away and ruin it for Tabby.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at Belle helplessly, unsure what to do.

“Don’t look at me, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’s your daughter, not mine.”

“What do you mean?” he protested, although he knew. Gideon was more like his mother, with his bold, inquisitive nature. Tabby was the quiet one, who could be happy playing by herself, who could hold still for an impossibly long time until a squirrel came down to take the sunflower seeds she held out in her open palm. She was the one who loved to watch him spin when he had a chance to do so, and was already developing a keen eye at spotting the plants needed to produce different dyes. The one who had declared to Joan, the tanner’s wife, that she was going to be a hedgewitch when she grew up. “You’re the one who tamed the beast.”

“Are you comparing yourself to an innocent little unicorn?” she teased.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Well, I was certainly horny enough in those days,” he said sotto voce. “And terribly confused by my maid when she seemed to like me. I was so certain that I was reading the signs wrong; that she must just be feeling pity for me.”

“Compassion, yes. But I was also admiring the way your leather pants fit.” Smirking, she ran a hand down over his backside to emphasise her point.

“I knew it,” he said sagely. “That’s the only reason you wanted to come back to the Enchanted Forest.”

“I can hear you,” Gideon sing-songed.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned as he pulled Belle to stand in front of him, resting his chin on top of her head and putting his arms around her waist. “Sorry son. I can’t help it if your mother is an incorrigible flirt.”

“What’s that mean?” He finally dared to touch the unicorn foal, finding it liked to be scratched in the same places that the horses did.

“It means I believe in reminding my husband that I think he’s attractive,” Belle said firmly. That was one problem with traveling in the caravan, a lack of privacy.

Now that a second person was touching her baby, the mother unicorn came to investigate, lipping at Gideon’s hair. Gideon froze with a comical expression on his face, and Belle remembered her camera and quickly raised it, framing both children and the two unicorns in the shot. At the alien whirr of the camera, the mother unicorn jerked up her head and moved back, calling to her foal. He scrambled to his feet and got up to follow her.

“I’m sorry, Tabby,” Belle apologised. “I didn’t mean to frighten them away.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “My hand was getting tired anyway.” She jumped up. “Did you get the picture? Let me see!”

She and Gideon came crowding around, exclaiming as the picture came into being.

Belle suddenly giggled. “Rumpel, do you remember -- “

“Saying that a unicorn wouldn’t eat Gideon, but it might nibble on his hair?” He laughed. “Yes, I do. I didn’t realise I was seeing the future at the time.”

“When was this?” Gideon demanded.

“Back in Storybrooke, before we came to the Enchanted Realms,” Belle said. She ruffled his hair. “Do you remember Storybrooke?”

“Yes, vaguely.”

“I don’t,” Tabby said. “Was I there?”

“Yes, but you were very young. Maybe one day we’ll go back there, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to come back here if we do. We have a magic bean to create a portal to go there, but we might not be able to return here if we left.” Even if there were a good supply of beans, returning to the exact same time and place might prove to be a challenge; the magic was tricky. Best not to risk it, not now. 

Tabby began besieging them with questions. Could she see the magic bean? What was Storybrooke like? Their big news was forgotten for the moment, to be remembered and told later in the quiet evening over supper. But it could wait. Right now, they had a life to live. And it was wonderful.

#rumbelle fic #ficwoodelf #rumbelle #a life worth living #gideon gold #just an extra 10k words than my first draft #every time i proofread it #i added more details #ahahaha #*forces myself to stop writing and post it* #ouat au #oneshot #fix it fic #post ep fic #i'm sorry for the lack of detail in the TLK #i can't write kissing