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#bae what should i name my new poison
arachine · 1 year
Note
okay okay, i’m sorry but i can’t get this scenario out of my head and i’m gonna make it everyone’s problem.
but neteyam and the unwanted wife trope. specifically mafia neteyam and the unwanted wife. just imagining one of his rivals saying his wife looks like a goddess in the missionary position, his rival saying this to his face because he knows neteyam doesn’t care enough about his wife’s wellbeing.
(idk if you take these kinds of ask but feel free to delete it!!)
have a happy late birthday bae 🤍
i’m digging it, i’m digging it—but the mafia bit is throwing me off…however!
+ notes: mean!neteyam, very ooc, i kinda wanna write a series on this omg…
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being neteyam’s wife is not something you would’ve chosen for yourself. sure, he was handsome, intelligent, collected, and quick-witted—but he was as dull as a knife, and as mean as a viper.
you see, you weren’t his first choice either. that spot was reserved for one woman already, and no matter how hard you tried to fill in that space, you would simply never be her. he reminded you of this whenever he got the chance: walking through the village, during hunts, over dinner with his parents (albeit privately)—during sex.
you’ll never be as good as her, he’d whisper in your ear while inching his cock slowly into the warmth of your cunt, you could never [feel] as good as her. this was routine, and while his words stung like poison, you tried so desperately to convince yourself that you remained unaffected.
and so, you let him use you. let him undress your body, let him spread your legs open—let him say her name while he holds you tight after climaxing. it’s utterly humiliating, but you allow it because it’s your duty. to keep him happy.
time and time again, you surrender your body to him in hopes that he’ll change, that he’ll realize how good he’s got it—that he’ll realize how much of a good wife you are to him—but it never comes. and it never will. he knows it, you know it, and yet, you never turn him down when he comes home looking for salvation between your legs.
on the rare occasion, though, you treat yourself to a night out. away from home, away from neteyam—away from the very failure that is your marriage, and it’s encouraged. you should not let me stop you from happiness, he tells you. you are pleased to fuck whoever you want.
there weren’t any words to describe the pain in your heart when he told you this. how could he expect you to fuck someone else that wasn’t him? he was your husband—a non-affectionate one—but your husband nevertheless. did he think of you as someone who viewed sex as some sort of exchange? did he think you capable of using someone for your own pleasure?
i would never use someone like that, you tell him. i’m not like you.
his response was something you’d never forget. nor would you forget the laugh he’d let out before saying it.
there will come a day when the ache in your belly is so strong, you will no longer remember your duty to remain faithful to me.
it stuck with you. and sure enough, he was right. the day did come when you needed someone and he was not there to provide it to you. now, you spend your nights rotating between lovers, cherry-picking from men in the clan who are oblivious to your marital issues. you let them stick their eager dicks inside of you like some cheap whore, and threaten their heads if they dare tell a soul.
this was the new routine now. you’d get your nut, they’d get to fulfill their weird fantasies of fucking their beloved olo’eyktan’s mate, and neteyam gets the satisfaction of coming home to a happy wife. and this goes on like clockwork for some time, but tonight, when you’re seated for a feast across from neteyam’s childhood rival, something shifts.
“what did you say?” neteyam queries, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on the back of his hands, eyes zoning in on the man across from him. his legs are spread and his jaw is clenched. you think his teeth’ll grind into dust with the way he’s staring daggers into the man.
“i said, your mate looks pretty when she’s taking my cock.” the man takes a swig of alcohol and laughs, a boisterous one. his buddies egg him on, ululating and patting him on the back to express their approval.
“that is enough,” neteyam stands, unsheathing his blade and pressing it to his rival’s throat. he lifts the man’s chin with the tip of the knife and speaks, “if you say another word about my mate, you will find that there will be no tongue for you to speak with again.”
everyone stops what they’re doing to look at the scene before them. some gasp, while others whisper. they know what this means.
to pull a blade on a man, is to challenge him. and right now, neteyam holds the blade.
“you must be doing something wrong if she’s begging for me to please her,” the man stands up slowly, neck still pressed against the sharp tip, “you are no olo’eyktan.” in the blink of an eye, neteyam appears behind the man and pulls him into a headlock with the knife still pressed into his neck.
“you forget your place, so let me remind you,” he starts, “you get to sleep with my wife because i allow it. tomorrow she could ask for your head and i’d give it to her on a platter. you will please my wife when she asks, and you will do it without complaint. for your sake, you will not fall from her grace, is that clear?”
when he finishes, he removes the blade from the man’s throat and pushes him down to the soil with a forceful hand. no fight had taken place, but the people knew if there had been one, neteyam would reign victorious.
neteyam sheathes his knife and takes a seat again, glaring at the crowd only once to get them to resume their idle chatter. you give the man on the ground a brief once over before taking residence beside your husband.
“you did not have to do that.”
“i didn’t do it for you,” his tone is harsh, eyes averted and shoulders hunched, elbows splayed on both of his knees.
“so then why speak for me?” you question with the tilt of your head. he sucks his teeth and lets out an agitated sigh.
“you are of my bloodline now! a sneer at you, is a sneer at me. they needed to be reminded of their places,” he seethes, “i allowed you lovers but sleeping with my childhood rival is something i cannot allow.”
“as long as you yearn for another, who i sleep with is not your concern.” now you’re angry—furious, and he can tell as much by your tone, and the way your eyes squint when you say it. but you do well to keep your composure in front of the people, and you’ve learned how to do so particularly when talking to him.
“you’re right. you’re not her, and you’ll never be her!—but you have a duty. and your duty as my wife, is to smile, spread your legs and produce sons.” you’ve heard these words time and time again, but something about them especially stings today. puts a bad taste in your mouth, makes you feel sick.
“and until you can do that, you are my concern. so be a big girl and get over it.”
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etiennemarais · 3 years
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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: the 8th of fiacre 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: labatoire d'etienne 𝐖𝐇𝐎: @degares​
          𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 have bore witness to the inside of Etienne's laboratory, and only a small handful of people ever would. With Degaré, though, things were different, for his presence in Etienne's lab predated the lab itself— when the lab was nothing more than an old wobbly table at the center of the single room he rented. Even Degaré's belief predated anything remotely resembling his success— when Etienne's creations were immaterial, merely the summation of his ideas and musings. In reality, his closest companion's belief was one of the few reoccurring fixtures in Etienne's life. It was something to take comfort in, even for someone like him who rarely saw the value in humanity past their immediately usefulness. For even a monster's existence was contingent on the knowledge that someone out there still believed in them.
         He'd been hard at work for some hours, so much so that his thin undershirt had welded into his skin from sweat. He'd had a breakthrough earlier that day— a flower he'd stumbled across while briefly being with a lover in the most Eastern part of Celestine. It was a Black Lotus, a slow acting poison meant to gradually flood through the veins of those who ingested it, before halting their blood flow in its entirety— the victim eventually succumbing to injuries related to the brain being cut of from blood circulation. Etienne knew this one would be a popular choice in the Underworld, for its slow acting release allowed the person responsible to be long gone by the time the poison took action. His lips curl into an impish smile, visible still beneath the mask he wore in order to protect himself from the poison’s toxins, as he proceeded to close the vial of what was now the first prototype.
         “I'll need your aid in ensuring this beauty gets the proper name it deserves,” Etienne informs Degaré as he stores the vial away for future replication. “The Black Lotus is too in your face. A poison like this calls for something far subtler.” His eyes flutter upwards to meet those of his companion whose insight he valued to the highest degree. “What do you think? I'm partial to révélation, but I don't love it.”
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40sbarnes · 3 years
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Medici: Spymasters of Florence
Epilogue
ahhh!! i was so uncertain with this chapter and i still am.. i hope you enjoy it and get *some* closure, but dw i will continue one shots for this story until i say otherwise! and now that this chapter is posted i will open up requests for one shots <3
as always thank you for reading,, i see all your likes and they are more than appreciated 
pairings; lorenzo x reader (but theyre actually together now??)
taglist; @brownskinnedblessing​ (this ones for you) @brynthebulldozer​ @mythicalamphitrite​ @nana035​ @valravnsraven​ @hannahhistorian92​ @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae​ @angrygardendeer​ @unstoppable-xavi​ @johnbolton @voidmalfoy​ 
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The bandages on Lorenzo's neck called for your gaze, although already stained through with blood. Both of your wounds had been treated soon after everything had happened. It was all a blur to you now, all you could remember was continuing the act for everyone, doing your best not to flinch when questioned about your 'marriage' to Lorenzo. His family seemed confused, but presumably from their recent loss, were not overly pressing the matter, at least for the time being.
Now, it was just you and Lorenzo stood across from each other in silence. The space between you was obvious, far more than usual, and it felt heavy, as if you would have to wade through it to reach him. Your hand sat uncomfortably on your side, although it had been wrapped in ointments and bandages, it still ached with each breath, and as the adrenaline wore off, it grew worse with every minute.
An uncertain amount of time had passed since Lorenzo had insisted you two be left alone, and you had escaped to his room. He cleared his throat quietly, catching your eye, before he finally spoke. "I'm glad you're okay," a ghost of a smile flashed across his features for a moment, gone the next.
"You too," you blinked back any emotion that threatened to show. You honestly were glad to see him well, despite everything. Silence fell over the space again, as all the lies and things unsaid had made everything so foggy and everything you felt you once knew had become so uncertain.
"He was your friend?" Lorenzo didn't need to use his name as he threw your words back at you. The words you had spoken out of anger. The words you still meant. The words you would speak again in a moment. The spite in Lorenzo's tone did not go unnoticed by you.
"Yes." You took a breath after answering, readying your explanation, but you were not given a chance to say it out loud as Lorenzo spoke again.
"After everything?!" His voice threatened to break as he raised it, his hand flying out to his side to help gesture his exasperation. 
"Lorenzo, please, just listen for a momen-" your pleading tone was unsuccessful as he denied your request by continuing his own trail of thought, taking a step closer to you.
"After everything he did? He killed my brother!" his voice cracked, a tear rolling down his cheek as he turned his head to the side, breaking the intense eye contact you were desperate to preserve. You tried your best to hold back your own tears, but Lorenzo's own upset was quickly filling the room, drowning you in it along with him.
You moved closer to him, slowly and gently lifting your finger to his cheek, wiping away the tear as it fell, along with the next one in its path.
"He killed Giuliano! Held you captive!" he continued his rant, his eyes meeting yours again, as you continued listening. His brows furrowed, before he slapped your hand away from his face. Your mouth fell agape, but you didn't move otherwise. "At least I had believed you to be..." uncertainty set into his features as he began to question himself, "Had I been a fool?" 
"I'm sorry for Giuliano." Your voice was a stark contrast to his, steady and unwavering, "I am." Your sincerity was not overshadowed by the lack of emotion. "But to insinuate it was all a lie after everything I went through?!" You ripped back your collar, the top buttons of your shirt popping open so the fabric fell to the side, leaving the bruises Jacopo had gifted you exposed.
"Y/n, I'm..." regret fell over Lorenzo as his cool fingers grazed your neck, his watery eyes apologetic. 
You leaned away from his touch as you continued your explanation. "They knew, I don't know for how long, about us. They knew about the poison... everything. They ambushed me that night, it was all a set-up. I certainly was not there by choice. I did everything I could to leave that place, to get to you. In fact, I had almost made it once, but I heard of their plan, and stayed to listen, like a fool. And was caught." You blinked rapidly as you felt tears creep into your eyes. "And you may know this to be true, because I popped my thumb out of its socket just to escape my chains!" You held up your hand, shoving it into Lorenzo's face as proof, furious that you had to.
He took hold of it, his touch gentle as he brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto your thumb. He didn't bother surveying it, it was clear he trusted you. "I'm sorry," his breath flutters across your skin as he speaks, "does it hurt?" You take your hand out of his grasp in an attempt to not completely melt, you still had a lot to discuss. You turned away from his surprised expression and went to his desk, taking the bottle of wine sitting on it into your grasp.
His steps were soft across the wooden floor as he moved to join you, watching as you poured the drink into two cups. "I'm sorry that you're upset about Francesco," he sounded genuine, "I truly am." But not genuinely sorry for what he did. You didn't know that you could fully blame him.
You take a breath, before turning back to face him, handing him his drink. He hesitates for a moment before accepting it, and you can't hold back the chuckle that escapes your lips. "Would you like for me to drink from it first?" He shares a laugh with you at the irony, as he peers into his cup, but you reach your fingers around his, taking it from his hold, and bringing it to your lips anyways. 
"Don't you trust your wife?" A coy smile sits on your lips as you return the cup to his waiting hand, half-teasing, half-trying on the new title for size.
"Where would the fun in that be?" He smirks, but takes a sip nonetheless, invalidating his statement.
You share a genuine smile, drinking from your own cup, although it is clear you both still have much left unsaid.
Lorenzo sets his cup down on the desk, clearly preparing to clear the air. "Listen, y/n, I know you never imagined marriage for yourself, but-" 
You cut him off, "I understand Lorenzo. And I believe... I should thank you," he evidently didn't expect this response from you. "For saving me." You expand on your point. "Even if it means you are stuck with me"
A wide grin set across his cheeks. "I've been stuck with you for far before today," he teases.
"Well, officially..." you tilt your head to the side, smiling with him.
"About officialism...," he glances away for a moment, "I suppose a wedding is in order." He raises his chin as he looks back to you, leaning on the desk.
"Is that your way of proposing?" You raise your eyebrow, only meaning to tease but an air of seriousness falls over you both after your words.
"I think we are far past that," Lorenzo chuckles, "but still, you have more than deserved a proper proposal," he slides the ring off of your finger, taking your hand into his, "With the Pazzis gone the Medicis will run Florence almost unopposed, and I need you by my side now more than ever. You saved my life today as much as I saved yours. And I promise, should you agree to me, I will never treat you with anything less than the respect you deserve. You complained in Venice I never saw you as an equal," you bite back your disagreement at his choice of words, "which I admit to be true. I always saw you as far superior, it filled me with rage... and a strange sense of awe, and through everything, that fury has long since faded, although the awe remaining, now accompanied by something else, something more." Your heart was beating in your throat at his words, and at how close the two of you had moved to each other.
Your eyes flicker between each other’s, glancing to one another's lips. It is clear what you both wish, but there is a sense of uncertainty still. The last kiss of yours had been a plan, you both had imagined, to poison Francesco, who you had led to believe you cared for just as you were with Lorenzo currently. You try to read him, to see if it is truly a shared fear or it was just self-projection. 
You move towards him slowly, your noses touching as you pause before your lips meet. You gaze up towards him, to see him looking down at you, frozen, waiting for your next move. "Should I apply lip paint first?" Your lips smile against his, practically touching already.
"No," he breathes out, before you close the last bit of space, your lips finally meeting. The kiss is soft, as is his hold on your cheek as he pulls you closer. Your hands fall on his chest as all your worries and conflicts fade away for that moment. 
Eventually he pulls back, taking your hand back into his, holding the ring at the end of your finger, waiting as he realises you still had yet to answer. You nod slowly, and he slides the metal around your finger. 
"We are in need of proper rings, but for now..." he squeezes your hand with his, placing a kiss to your temple.
"I know a lovely blacksmith," you grin up at him, and he chuckles, before leaning down to connect your lips once again, as if you had done it a million times before.
Rapping on the door cuts the kiss short, both of you pulling away to rest your foreheads on one another. "Lorenzo!" The voice of a pained mother floats through the door, and he pulls away, instantly moving to answer it. 
"We have much to discuss," Lucrezia's eyes fall on her son before they flutter to where you stood behind him.
"I am aware, mother," he embraces her, "but not today." They share in a sad smile, the loss of Giuliano hanging like a weight between them.
She nods in agreement, sparing you one final glance before speaking, "Very well, then."
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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years
Text
Mate
Summary: Derek reveals the real reason he avoids the reader.
Pairing: Derek Hale x black!reader
Warnings: Mentions of smut & violence
A/N: My Derek fic is finally finished! Now I gotta work on Peter’s
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Moving to Beacon Hills wasn’t your choice. Your mom told you she had a dream and that Beacon Hills is where you’ll find your destiny. She was right, well at least you think she was. It’s hard to tell when your destiny refuses to spend time with you.
The first day you got to town you bumped into him. You just walked out of the gas station when you saw a group of familiar hunters harass him and vandalized his car. Immediately, you knew he was a werewolf if the hunters were messing with him, but you weren’t gonna let them treat him like that.
Your family was probably the only group of hunters who didn’t have an immediate distaste for werewolves and thanks to that you were blessed. A long time ago, an ancestor of yours saved a werewolf, who was being framed for murders in his village. Grateful for his compassion, the werewolf’s witch lover casted a spell on your bloodline. It allowed your family to be enhanced: faster, stronger, faster healing, and better sight and smell. Basically, your family was like Buffy the Vampire Slayer for werewolves. Except, most of the time you spent protecting werewolves instead of hunting them. The only time you hunted them were when there was strong evidence that one was killing people, like the Alpha here in Beacon Hills.
So, when you saw hunters messing with him, knowing he couldn’t do anything about without putting himself at risk, you had to do something. Just a flash of your new deputy badge and an utterance of your renowned last name had them scattering. And you what did you get in a return? A gruff thank you and he drove off without giving you his name.
Derek Hale was his name. You learned it the next day, when Chris Argent came to your house. The only Argent you’ve ever met was Kate and you couldn’t stand her, but her brother didn’t seem too bad, just another judgmental hunter. Kate on the other hand seemed certifiable crazy.
He warned you there was an alpha werewolf running loose and killing people, and he would love to have a hunter of your caliber to help him hunt the thing down. You declined his offer in a heartbeat. After working with his sister once you vowed to never to work with an Argent again.
The next time you saw Derek Hale was when him looking half dead and your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep. He been shot by Kate and the poison was working through him.
While Stiles raided your kitchen for snacks, you inspected Derek’s wound. Being that close to him, you got a better smell of his scent and it was intoxicating despite the poison in his blood. As you inspected it, he leaned in closer to you and you could’ve sworn he growled, “Mine,” but you disregarded it.
Unfortunately, you didn’t have what you needed to cure him, so you had to wait for Scott to find it at the Argent’s household. And in true Scott fashion he showed up at the last minute with the cure.
The downfall of Derek Hale is he’s a grumpy and pushes people away. You noticed it when you first met him, you noticed it with his interactions with Stiles, and you noticed it after he got smart right after Scott just saved his life. His disposition didn’t make him the easiest to trust, so you understood why Scott would rather trust the Argents. But both you and Derek knew the truth about them. They were a dangerous group of hunters.
Surprisingly, Derek dragged you along with him to show Scott the truth about the Argents. The three of you, ended up in a hospital room that housed Derek’s injured uncle. After Chris Argent told you about Derek, you looked him up at work and found out about the fire that killed his family. You had no doubt the Argents had a hand in it.
Soon after that, Derek and you spent more time together. Most of the time, you two were trying to figure out who the alpha was, but it was still quality time. He even let you talk him into watching a movie with you once.
With you, Derek wasn’t his usual grumpy self. He was reserved, never really opening up to you, but he could be really kind. The only time he seemed to cop an attitude with you was when you talked about the lawyer, who was always flirting with you.
That’s how you ended up at the Hale house. Last night you got stood up by lawyer bae and when you bumped into him at the grocery store, he scurried off. There’s only one person you know that makes people run off like that and his name is Derek Hale.
The tirade you had planned died out as soon as you saw Derek’s bare back as he was doing pull-ups on the doorframe.
“Well,” he said as his only acknowledgment to you. He didn’t even turn back to look at you, when he jumped down to do some impressive one-armed push-ups.
You didn’t like being ignored, so you sat on his back hoping to mess up his push-ups. Did it work? No. But were you impressed? Hell yeah! You weren’t a light chick; you had a curvier body that most wouldn’t think could keep up in the hunter lifestyle.
“Well what?” You asked, getting tired of only hearing his grunts, which by the way gave you some very naughty thoughts but that’s beside the point.
“You gonna cuss me out or what? I can smell your anger,” he held his push-up as he thought if he should finish his sentence, “…and other things.”
“What other things?” Your voice went up an octave.
Abruptly, Derek stopped his push-ups, jumped to his feet, and caught you before you could tumble to the ground. For balance you had to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.
This was the closest to his face you’ve ever been to his face. Derek was even more beautiful up close. Unconsciously, you ran your nose along the length of his neck, and he smelled amazing, but there was something underneath his natural scent. Taking another sniff, you knew what you were smelling. It was arousal. Derek was aroused and you think you had a hand in it.
Smiling down at you, he asked. “Like what you’re smelling?” Derek Hale should smile more because it was dazzling.
“No! You stink!” You tried to unwrap yourself from him, but he gripped you tighter and put you against the wall. There was no guessing if he was aroused, because you could feel it between your legs and boy was it big.
“Aren’t you tired of this little dance?” Derek’s face was getting dangerously close to yours and if he got any closer you wouldn’t be responsible for what you did next.
“What dance,” you asked, entranced by his lips.
Gripping your chin, so your eyes met his, Derek replied, “The one where we pretend, we’re not attracted to each other.”
Since, he was so closed off, you tried to ignore your feelings for him, but never in a million years did you think Derek felt the same. “When did you-,” abruptly Derek covered your mouth to silence you. It was a little faint to you, but to Derek you knew the sound of 3 hunters were crisp to him.
Quickly, he bounded up the stairs and stuffed you in a closet. “Stay here.”
Apparently, your face said that you weren’t gonna listen, because Derek had to repeat himself with his blue eyes glowing.
From what you heard, Derek took down the first two hunters with ease, but the third caught him off guard. Focusing your hearing, the hunter’s voice became clear. It was fucking Kate Argent. Now there was no way you were staying put.
“Put it down,” you ordered while drawing your gun.
“Wow, you really are here. I thought Chris was lying when he said you moved to town and working as a deputy. What a waste of talent. We could really use your help tracking down the Alpha.” The thing about Kate that irked you the most was that she always had that stupid smug smirk on her face and right now, you wanted to knock it off.
Ignoring her, you looked over her shoulder to Derek, “You ok?”
“I thought I told you to stay in the closet.” Derek’s ungrateful ass growled at you. That’s why you can never do him a favor.
Kate looked between you two. “Oh, am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel?”
At the same time, both of you said, “We’re not dating.”
Kate turned to you, ignoring the gun you had in your hand. “Just between us girls, me and him dated once.” Her little revelation left you stunned to the point where you didn’t notice her pull out the machine gun.
Derek threw you over his shoulder and ran to the woods. Once, he felt there was enough distance he stopped and set you down. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” you answered, but it didn’t matter. Derek was inspecting your body making sure there were no wounds. Eventually, he was satisfied, and he hugged you like he never wanted to let go.
“I can’t believe I thought this could work,” Derek whispered to himself, letting you go.
His pacing made you feel bad. There was only one emotion you were truly used to see Derek have, which was anger. But to see him nervous made you nervous.
To qualm his and your nerves, you tried to hug him, but he shrugged out of it. “That can’t happen. We can’t happen!”
“Why not?” You shouted. This was the first time you acknowledged to Derek that you were indeed attracted to him.
“Because everything good in my life ends up dead! Most of my family, my sister, and if you keep hanging around me, it’ll be you too eventually. I can’t let my mate die because of me.”
Mate? A werewolf having a soulmate was just a myth. Derek had to be confused. “Excuse me, did you just say mate?”
Derek looked up at you from his spot on the ground. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re my mate.”
“Derek that’s impossible. There hasn’t been a mated bond in centuries and its only between two werewolves, not one,” you tried to reason with him.
Hopping to his feet, Derek stalked towards you until your back hit the tree and he trapped you. “When did you meet me?”
The heat coming off of him was too much, you had to look down at your feet to be comfortable to answer. “The first day I moved here.”
Firmly gripping your chin, Derek forced you to look at him. “And since that day, has there been a day you haven’t thought about me? Because I can tell you, I’ve thought about you every single fucking day since that day at the gas station. Do you know how much restraint it took me not to kill Dale? What kind of name is Dale and who would even name their kid that?” Derek rambled on.
Was Derek actually jealous? To test your theory, you decided to test his buttons. “I don’t know. I think Dale is a cute name and it fits him so perfectly. Like have you seen him smile? It’s a work of art. I’m really upset that I didn’t go on that date with him.”
Derek was sporting his signature scowl and you had to stop yourself from laughing. It was too easy to rile him up. “Mines,” he growled and this time there was no tricking yourself that you misheard him this time.
Your mom did tell you your destiny was in Beacon Hills and you believed it was Derek, but you didn’t think it would mean him being your mate. When you found out about Derek, you thought you were to help him find the Alpha that killed his sister and maybe break him out of that hard shell of his, but being his mate was something that never crossed your mind.
The mate bond hasn’t happened in so long most thought it was a myth. And it certainly didn’t occur between a werewolf and a human. The closest connection between a werewolf and a human was for the human to be an anchor.
The mate bond is just a much stronger version of an anchor. A werewolf could share a telepathic bond with their mate, but more importantly it made each wolf physically stronger. It had to do something about the two wolves becoming one and complimenting each other strengths and weaknesses.  
Logically, it made no sense for you and Derek to be mates. What strengths did you have that he already didn’t?
“You make me a better person,” Derek interrupted your thoughts.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s no doubt I can be asshole, but you straighten me out. You mellow me out. I’m a lot more sympathetic than I used to be. It doesn’t matter if I can break a door down, you are by far the strongest of us two.”
Derek had you shook. How did he know what you were thinking? “Did you uh- did you um, read my mind?”
“Yeah, um, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Our connection can be so strong at times and it lets us share a telepathic bond.”
“So, you mean to tell me that we’re not even properly mated yet, but we’re already sharing the telepathic bond!? And you still want to keep me away!?” You shrieked. You were in disbelief because a telepathic bond between mates only occurred after they’re formally mated, and it happens only to the strongest of mates. Thus, Derek Hale was royally fucking up.
Gripping your chin tightly, Derek made you look at him. “It’s for your own good. Even being friends with me is risky and I don’t think I’ll survive if something happens.”
Pissed that Derek thought you were some fragile little being, you decided to give him no choice but to be with you. “I guess I’ll just have to call Dale and screw his brains out. At least he’ll appreciate me.”
Barely five steps to your car and Derek tackled you to the ground. He hovered over you fully wolfed out.
“Aww, is the big bad wolf mad,” you mocked him, making him wrap his hand around your throat and lifting you up to him. “Last time I’ll tell you this: you’re mines.”
Five simple five words sparked something in him. “Then prove it to me.” Derek flipped you over on your knees and pulled you flushed against him.
He trailed kisses down your neck until he abruptly stopped. “If I wasn’t so picky about our first time, I’d fuck you right here and show you who you belong to.” Derek claimed before lifting you to your feet.
Once he heard the hunters leave, he walked you back to your car silently. “How about this Friday we go to an early dinner and then go to Scott’s game?” Derek offered once you got back to your car.
You smiled up at him, happy he was finally coming to his senses. “And Stiles’,” you corrected him.
Immediately Derek’s face went sour at the mention of the goofy teen. “Admit it, you love him.”
“He’s annoying.”
“He’s cute.”
“He’s a pain in my ass.”
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
Derek’s forehead crinkled at the insult. “Fine. We’ll go to dinner then to Scott’s and Stiles’ game.”
“Great and you’ll be nicer to both of the boys,” you negotiated.
“We’re not even together and you’re already bossing me around.” Derek groaned, rubbing his temple.
Punching him in the shoulder, you scoffed, “I’ve been bossing you around, I just had to be more manipulative before.”
“True.” Derek leaned down and kissed you. “Well, as part of my demands, you can’t talk to Dale anymore.”
“Fine. It was your fault I was talking to him anyway. If you would’ve told me sooner, then I wouldn’t have to worry about him.”
“Fair point,” Derek ushered you into your car. “Call me when you get home and if you see Kate in public please don’t say anything to her.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just beat her ass instead.”
Derek smacked his forehead at your stubbornness. “Y/N,” he growled. “Aren’t we teaching Scott how to control himself?”
“Yeah, what’s that gotta do with me?” Your upper lip snarled like you smelled a dead animal.
“Then shouldn’t you be a good example by showing control?”
Nodding your head side to side, you thought about your answer. “Yeah, I’ll show control by not beating her ass in front of Scott and her niece. How about that?”
Giving up on the conversation, Derek gave you a kiss on the cheek through your window. “Remember to call me. I don’t trust them not to attack you since they know you’re on my side.”
“I will.” You secured yourself with the seatbelt and stared at Derek, pondering if you really wanted to say what was on your tongue. Making your decision, you went for it as you put your car in drive. “Bye, mate.”
Derek’s eyes flashed blue and he returned the same departing words with a smile. “Bye, mate.”
Tags: @twistedcharismaaa​ @titty-teetee​ @chaneajoyyy​ @chasingsunlight @black-is-beautiful18​ @princessshanae14​ @pananegra​ @missdforever​
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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years
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Author: Tea Rose
Prompt: Positions; every day the same. 
Group: B
-
Queen Takes Knight
Life in Storybrooke had a pattern, a routine that Mr Gold followed without deviation. Every day he would wake before six, shower and shave, and drink coffee while looking out over his rear garden. After breakfast, he would dress in a fine silk shirt and three-piece suit and drive into town to open his pawnshop. Every day he would study the precious objects he hoarded, cleaning each item, dusting his collection. Every day he made deals with the townsfolk, exchanging his money for their treasured items, his sarcasm for their desperate pleas.
Every day, he was in love with Belle French.
He had been in love with her for as long as he could remember: from the first moment she had knocked on his door on a stormy evening in October and asked if he had a place to rent. Her coat had been soaked through, tendrils of dark hair plastered to her shoulders, the cold air making her pale cheeks flush and rainwater glistening on her lips. Lightning had flashed behind her, a purple afterglow in his vision as it faded, and Gold had stared at her tongue-tied, the heart he had almost forgotten he possessed pounding hard in his chest. It had felt as though something momentous had happened, a seismic shift in the path his life was to take.
Of course, nothing had shifted in his life, at least nothing as far as Belle was concerned. He had offered her a small two-bed house at a ridiculously reduced rate, and drawn up a contract for a property he would lose money on as long as she lived there. His days remained the same, his life continuing its familiar routine. Except that he was utterly, completely in love.
In the dark of the night, he imagined telling her: marching into the diner where she worked, declaring his love and asking her to dinner. The dream never lasted long; his own insecurities would burst gleefully into life and feed him their predictions as to how that might go. In the best of the scenarios his mind conjured, she simply stared at him before walking away. In the worst, she laughed nastily and denounced him in public, inviting all of Storybrooke to laugh with her at the crippled pawnbroker twice her age. After that one, he let his demons drag him back down into the darkness, taunting him for daring to think he might ever be worthy of her.
His own mental torture aside, Gold was convinced that Belle thought him a total idiot. He had the unfortunate tendency to go non-verbal in her presence, and had caught himself staring at her with what was no doubt a vacant, cow-eyed expression of awe. She was too kind to mention it, of course, but all the same he tried to stay out of her way, and so he avoided the diner as much as possible. It was for the best. She would no doubt be charmed by one of the many infuriatingly rugged men that Storybrooke could boast before long. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand seeing it, as much as he wanted her to be happy.
It was October again, and a day that had been bright and clear was fading into the evening, the sun sinking below the horizon as he paced his shop. It was rent day, and he needed to finish his rounds, but he had been holding off on heading to the inn, leaving time for Belle to finish at the diner and head home. A coward’s way out, of course. A chess board sat on top of a small walnut table, its pieces carved and polished wood, light and dark. He had been playing a game against himself for some time, and stepped back to eye the positions of the pieces. Queen takes knight.
The shop bell tinkled, loud in the silence, and he turned too quickly, bumping into the table and making his bad leg throb and the chess pieces topple, rolling in curving circles on the board. Cursing under his breath, pain shooting through his leg, he started to right them, trying to remember their positions. Where was the white queen? Queen takes knight. Or was it knight takes queen? Where’s the bloody knight?
Shaking his head at his own clumsiness, he spied the black knight rolling on the floor at his feet, and bent to pick it up.
“Check.”
He glanced up at the sweet sound of Belle’s voice, taking a hurried step backwards and almost falling over his own feet. One hand flailed in the air, the other gripping the handle of the cane tightly before he could get it under himself and prevent an embarrassing and painful tumble. Belle had moved the white queen, taking a bishop and putting the king in check. She was giving him a quizzical look, a crease between her eyes, and he swallowed. No doubt she thought him a stumbling old fool. Lame. Weak.
“Sorry, Mr Gold, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, and he nodded stiffly.
“Okay.”
The word was bitten off, cut short, swelling in his mouth and flattening his tongue. He stared at her helplessly, and there was an awkward silence. Belle smiled briefly. There was a cardboard box in her hand, one of the boxes that the diner used for takeout cakes and pastries.
“I know you said I could leave the rent with Granny for when you do your rounds,” she said, “but I thought I might as well stop by on my way home.”
“Right.”
Rent was something he knew how to deal with, and so he managed to move, striding behind the shop counter. Belle turned in his direction.
“Did you hear there was someone new in town?” she said. “Henry Mills’ birth mother, I heard. Can you believe it?”
“Oh?” Well. Regina won’t like that.
“Yeah. Apparently he ran away to Boston to find her, and she brought him back.”
Gold brought up his rent ledger, setting it on the counter with a thump, and Belle moved closer, one hand resting on top of the polished wooden edging. He could see her painted nails, a dark red colour that suited her pale skin. In a moment of madness, he imagined how she might look in his bed, all that milk-white beauty spread out for him to worship and devour. She slid the cardboard box onto the counter, fingers brushing against his, and he shied away as though she had burned him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You seem a little agitated.”
“Fine,” he said stiffly, and opened the rent ledger, the spine creaking as he flattened it out. “Cash?”
“Yes. Oh!” Belle rummaged in her bag, bringing out a roll of notes. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
He counted the money and wrote out the date, her name, the property address and the amount paid. Her perfume was distracting, drifting in the air around him, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to concentrate.
“Thank you,” he said again. “All paid up.”
“Great.” Belle seemed awkward, fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh - this is for you.”
She pushed the cardboard box towards him, and Gold frowned.
“What?”
“It’s for you,” she repeated. “Devil’s food cake. Granny made a fresh one, and it was almost gone, and I remember that chocolate cake is maybe the only thing I’ve seen you eat before, and - and so I thought maybe you’d like it.”
Gold looked at the box, then at her. She was smiling at him, blue eyes wide and with a hint of the nervousness he was feeling. He reached for the box, opening it up to reveal a thick slice of dark chocolate cake, topped with rich frosting. It smelled almost as good as she did.
“Thank you,” he said. “That’s kind.”
She hesitated.
“It’s just that you don’t really come into the diner that often.”
“No.”
“But I think you’re lonely,” she added. “So I guess I wanted to say you don’t have to be. And maybe cake seemed like a way to do that.”
She was still smiling, and he stared at her, struck dumb by her beauty. The silence grew, and her smile faltered a little. She nodded, as though in confirmation of something, and took a step back.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” she said. “I’ll see you around, Mr Gold.”
“Yes.” He tried to force himself to speak in words of more than one syllable. “Undoubtedly.”
She nodded again, walking to the door. The bell chimed, and he wanted to pick up the ledger and beat himself to death with it. Still, it was rent day. He should do his rounds. Perhaps it would take his mind off the perfection of Belle French.
-
Emma.
Incredible, how a simple name could unleash a raging torrent of memories, dreams and nightmares. All his long, dark years, pouring into his head like poison. Bae. Belle. Every one of his deepest regrets vomited up for him to weep over. He had done that already, crouched in the back of his shop with his arms wrapped around his head, sobbing like a child. It hadn’t helped.
He had to see her, had to check whether she was real, or a hallucination, a dream born of his own guilt. He had to see her.
It started to rain when he left the shop, and a light shower quickly became a deluge. Gold walked on, letting the cold and wet pour over him, soaking his fine suit and flattening his hair. He knew the way to her home by heart, although he had never set foot in there since giving her the keys. The rain hissed in the growing puddles that formed, thunder rumbling, as it had been when they first met in this land. The tail end of the curse, he realised that now; the town had been forming around them, most of the inhabitants asleep, unaware that they had been transported to a new land, with new memories. A land without magic, and lives without meaning. Until now.
Lights were still on in Belle’s little house, warm and welcoming as he made his way up the path. He hesitated before knocking, praying that she would answer, that his mind hadn’t played another cruel trick. Movement behind the door gave him hope, and it opened, light spilling out and blinding him. Belle was staring at him, blue eyes wide, perfect lips forming a deep pink circle.
“Mr Gold!” she exclaimed. “You’re soaked!”
He reached out with a trembling hand, gently squeezing her shoulder.
“You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re alive.”
“Last I checked.” She took his hand in hers, her warmth almost searing. “You’re freezing. Come in.”
He stumbled into the hallway, and she shut the door behind him. Water was dripping from him, drumming on the floor in a rapid, insistent rhythm, and Belle turned to face him. She was very close, close enough that he could feel the heat from her, and she lifted a hand to push a sodden lock of hair away from his eyes. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to step closer and cup her face with shaking hands. Belle inhaled sharply, staring into his eyes, and he bent to press his mouth to hers, swallowing her tiny moan as his tongue stroked, wet lips sliding. Belle tugged him closer, hands sliding up his back as he pushed her against the wall. Pain shot through his leg as the kiss grew harder, a deep groan rumbling up from within him. Eventually their lips parted, and he pressed his forehead to hers, tears streaming over his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he wept. “Oh Belle, I’m so sorry!”
She nuzzled his nose with hers, smiling slightly as her fingers sank into his wet hair.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “Kiss me again.”
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stahlop · 4 years
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Once Upon a Time 3x05 “Good Form” Review
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(Like I was going to post any other gif for this one)
Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x03 2x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13 2x14 2x15 2x16 2x17 2x18 2x19 2x20 2x21 2x22 3x01 3x02 3x03 3x04
Well, if you haven’t guessed it by now, this is one of my favorite episodes. Not only do we get to see Killian’s family and pirate origins, but we get the first Captain Swan kiss!!! Um, did anything else happen in this episode? Oh yeah, David has been cured from the Dreamshade, but now he is unable to leave Neverland without dying. Henry’s imagination starts conjuring real swords, and Neal is being hung in a box next to another box. Who could be in that one?
Summary: Lt. Killian Jones and Capt. Liam Jones head to Neverland in search of a plant that should heal anything and cure any disease, but Liam pays a terrible price when Pan warns them the plant is not what they think. Hook has to trick David into coming with him to get him cured, but he too will have to pay a price for getting cured from the Dreamshade.
Opening: The Jewel of the Realm
New Characters:
Liam Jones:  Liam is the captain of The Jewel of the Realm and Killian’s older brother. He also tends to treat Killian like he is still a child, despite the fact that it seems he hand picked Killian to be his leftenant on this mission. He calls him little brother and doesn’t seem to let him know much about their journey (Killian is surprised by the pegasus sail, but the rest of the crew seems to know about it). When they arrive on Neverland it is just him and Killian who go on land to retrieve the Dreamshade. They run into Peter Pan and Liam is a complete arrogant ass. He completely dismisses everything Pan tells him, simply because he doesn’t believe their king would kill people in a war. That’s pretty much what war in the Enchanted Forest is about, isn’t it? Killing people in the name of the king for whatever the king wants. Killian at least has the sense to question their mission, but Liam still thinks their king can do no wrong. Liam and Killian argue when they find the Dreamshade. Killian wants to fight fairly in the war, but Liam is still insistent that their king didn’t lie to them about the plant. He thinks Pan wants to keep the plant all to himself (well, technically, Liam, you have invaded his island and are attempting to take a local plant with supposed healing properties from the person who lives there). Liam actually rolls his eyes at Killian and decides the best way to convince his brother is by scratching himself with the plant to prove a point. And he definitely proves one, that his brother was right and they should have listened to Pan. Killian makes Liam drink from the spring on Pan’s advice and the Dreamshade immediately disappears. Too bad Liam’s attitude toward Killian doesn’t. His first words are to call him captain when Killian is desperately asking for his brother back. I know it’s supposed to be a joke, but Liam’s whole attitude just riles me up. The Jewel of the Realm is flying back to their kingdom. Liam actually apologizes to Killian for not listening to him. Liam claims they’re going to call out the king for what he planned to do with the Dreamshade. The ship lands in their waters and Liam immediately starts dying, the Dreamshade crawling up his face (it’s kind of obscured by his scruff, but it’s definitely there. He dies in Killian’s arms. Because he couldn’t listen to his brother’s concerns over his own arrogance.
Character Observations:
Killian/Hook: So, Killian was a Navy man. All buttoned up and long ponytail. And the bangs, the bangs! I know it’s to make him look younger, but oof. He gets on the crew for not having their jackets completely buttoned and for drinking rum, and talks about good form. The captain of The Jewel of the Realm, happens to be his big brother. They are on a mission for the king. Killian seems very naive throughout all of this. Like he’s been under Liam’s protective thumb for all his childhood. We know their father abandoned Killian on a ship as Hook told this to Bae in And Straight on Til Morning, no mention of Liam, but it sounds like Liam had a good hand in raising Killian and it seems weird that Liam has become captain and Killian still doesn’t know a lot of things. I get that we, as the audience, need the exposition to learn these things, but it’s making Killian look like a complete idiot. Liam gives him a sextant with a pegasus on it to help him navigate their journey. Killian has never seen the stars on the sextant, but is the best navigator Liam has known. Liam can’t give him all the details of the journey, but tells him they’ll bring peace to the kingdom. Killian is proud to be on a hero's journey. Oh, if you only knew, Killian. Enemy ships start attacking them and that’s when Liam rolls out their secret weapon, that Killian, his brother and leftenant, has no idea about. A pegasus sail that lets them fly to Neverland. Killian looks ecstatic when they start to fly. The brothers are the only ones who set foot on Neverland (I guess this is before the ‘if you set foot on Neverland you can never leave’ rule Wendy told Bae about in Second Star to the Right). Liam finally reveals what they are on the island to find, and Killian is appalled that they’re there to find a plant. But once Liam tells him of it’s magical properties of healing, Killian is in awe and thinks about how many lives could be saved. And that’s when Pan shows up. While Liam is more interested in interrogating the boy, Killian is looking around trying to figure out where he came from, as the only thing behind him is water. Pan informs them that the Dreamshade they seek is poison. Killian looks as though he wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of Pan’s claims. Watch his face, he’s trying not to smile when he says it’s medicine. Pan tells them it’s doom and how easy it would be to wipe out the opposing side in their war. This immediately upsets Killian who thinks maybe the boy is right, but Liam thinks Pan is playing games with them, and Killian shouldn’t be so gullible. They head off to find the Dreamshade, but Killian seems to have a bit more trepidation about it. They find the Dreamshade and Killian is having second thoughts about it. Liam is still all about loyalty to the king, but Killian sees no reason why Pan would lie to them. Liam again tells him he needs to believe his king, but Killian sees no honor in their king if the plant is really poison.  Liam basically tells him he’s an idiot and he needs to listen to him because he is his brother and his captain, but Killian is adamant that Pan is telling the truth and their king is being deceitful. He’s all about fighting fairly. Liam decides that in order to convince Killian, he needs to scratch himself with the Dreamshade. Killian looks extremely worried, and with good reason, because the Dreamshade starts spreading through Liam’s veins and he passes out. Killian begins to freak out. The tremor and pain in his voice is so heartbreaking. Pan comes by and Killian begs him to help, stating that his brother is all he has left. Pan shows him the waters that run through Neverland and tells him they can cure any ill (maybe that’s what the king meant to send them after?). Pan tells him that all magic comes with a price and he shouldn’t leave the island if he doesn’t want to pay it. Killian tells Pan whatever he wants, it’s his, misunderstanding what the price of magic means. Pan fills his canteen and gives some of the water to Liam who wakes right away. Killian is overjoyed to see Liam awake and without the mark of the Dreamshade on him. He immediately calls for Pan to pay him, but he has disappeared. Sailing back through the clouds, Killian is looking at his brother like he’s a god in his cabin. Liam actually admits he should have listened to his little (younger) brother, but Killian just tells him he’s happy he survived. Liam says they’ll tell their realm about the king’s cowardice in using such unholy weapons in war. Killian, again, looks up adoringly at his big bro and tells him he’ll follow him to the ends of the earth. Killian goes to look at the window as they land, and when he looks back, Liam is falling to the floor, dying from the Dreamshade. Liam dies in his arms. And then we get to see why Killian turned pirate. After dumping Liam’s body into the water for a burial at sea, one of the ship’s crewmen gives Killian his brother’s satchel and calls him captain. Killian looks like he was the one who just died. He lovingly fingers the insignia on the satchel, swearing his brother will always be with him, and then he gets angry. He burns the pegasus sail so no one else can get to Neverland (um, I’d think that would be dangerous for the ship in general), and then riles up the crew amidst the ashes floating around him to denounce their king and become pirates. He talks a lot about honor, but also says as pirates they can take as they please. So stealing is apparently good form, as long as it’s sticking it to their king. Taking revenge against his king by taking all the king has is okay because it’s retribution for Liam. He renames the ship the Jolly Roger and says how there is at least honor among thieves. I mean, I understand some of the younger crew maybe going along with this, but the older ones? Are you telling me none of these men have families that could now be in danger because they’ve decided to go pirate? But they all cheer the new Captain Jones. But you can see Killian takes no pleasure in it.
Hook and the rest of the SB crew are still in Bae’s cave looking around. Emma and Hook find markings Bae used to mark the time. Emma deduces he stopped marking time because he lost hope. Hook tells Emma he too knows what it’s like to lose hope. It seems like he’s making a concerted effort to make her feel better about the situation, but she takes it as him trying to bond with her. There is absolutely no innuendo or swagger happening from Hook, which is why I think he’s actually being sincere. Of course, David then goes into protective dad mode and tells Hook that Emma will never like him because he’s nothing but a pirate. Hook’s smirk falters a bit at that. Later on, while the women are constructing a trap to catch a Lost Boy, Hook watches Emma and drinks his rum. Killian tells them that the Lost Boys aren’t going to give up Pan, but Mary Margaret doesn’t want to hear it. She sends David to get more vines and he drags Hook along with him. Killian gets defensive, but the moment Emma tells him to go he does. David once again tells Hook to stay away from Emma and Killian tells him she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need his parenting, so it’s a good thing he’s about to die. David mentions that at least he’s going to die saving his family, which is something Hook knows nothing about, which of course makes him think of his brother, so he tells David there may be a way to save him. David thinks it would be selfish to try and save his own life over saving Henry’s, and Hook gets pissed because he’s risking his own life to help them because he’s going against Pan. David says Hook’s only there for Emma. True, but it’s still a big risk to his own safety. David once again says he’ll see to it that Hook doesn’t get Emma, and Hook quips it’s a good thing he’s about to die, so David tries to hit him, but passes out in the process. Hook tries forcing rum down David’s throat to wake him up (it works) and David is anything but grateful. Hook insists on seeing how far the poison has gotten, and when David reveals his chest, Hook realizes he only has hours left. He again asks David to tell his family, but David says he wants to help save Henry with what little time he has left. David happens to find Liam’s military insignia in the dirt which makes Hook tell David it belonged to his brother (see David, he knows what it’s like to have family). Hook makes up a story about his brother losing it when Liam had a duel with Pan up on Dead Man’s Peak and it had been attached to his satchel which had a sextant in it that could decode Bae’s star map. David eats this up, and Hook does a hell of a good job lying through his teeth so he can get David up there to save his life. He even makes it seem like it’s all David’s idea for him to go with him to get it. When they tell the ladies, Emma wants all them to go, but Hook is insistent that they find Henry so he doesn’t lose hope. David tells Hook that he’ll tell his family he died a hero instead of already leaving a dead man, and he’ll do it because if Hook hadn’t stolen the bean during And Straight on Til Morning, Henry wouldn’t have been kidnapped, so it’s kind of all his fault. Good point. Hook agrees with this assessment. They briefly bond over their deceased brothers (and how similar they are to one another), and then Hook goes on ahead up the peak. He will throw the rope down to David once he gets up there. Pan is waiting for him at the top. He wants Hook to come back and work for him again. Hook refuses. Pan sweetens the pot by saying he’ll let Hook off the island with Emma. He’ll know if Hook took his deal by killing David. Hook wonders what happens if he doesn’t take the deal and Pan reminds him what happened the last time he didn’t listen to him (if he means Liam dying, technically Killian did listen, it was Liam who didn’t). David comes over the ledge at that point, apparently having the strength to climb up the mountain without the assistance of the vines Hook was going to throw down for him. David goes on ahead and Hook seems to be contemplating taking Pan’s deal. At the top of the peak, David draws his sword on Hook and pushes him toward the Dreamshade brambles. He heard the deal Pan offered him and he doesn’t trust Hook to not kill him. Hook reveals that he lied about the sextant and the insignia. David doesn’t understand why he’d do that. David thinks Hook brought him there to die, but Hook says he’s trying to save his life. David tries to attack Hook, but Hook punches him and knocks him out. He cuts through the Dreamshade bushes and gets the water that he needs. His expression when he comes out and notices that he didn’t get cut by the Dreamshade at all is priceless. There’s a reason for all that leather. Hook wakes David up and tells him the water will save his life. David is stunned that that is why Hook brought him up there and Hook is very sincere when he tells him he wants to save his life. Hook tells him about the price, that he can never leave Neverland once he’s drunk the water. David drinks it. David wonders why Hook helped him when he got nothing in return, but Hook tells him he didn’t do it for him and winks. That’s right, piss off the now fully healthy father now. When they get back to camp, David makes up a story about Hook saving him from Dreamshade when Lost Boys ambushed them. Hook looks very uncomfortable with the praise David is heaping on him. David toasts Hook and Hook almost has that same look on his face that he used to give Liam. Emma gives her praises, and he’s still uncomfortable, until she thanks him. And then sexy Hook comes out to play. He and Emma push each other until Emma finally grabs his collar and kisses the holy hell out of him. You can see Hook didn’t think this was ever going to happen. Emma is all forceful and Hook is just trying to figure out what to do with his hand and hook. It’s adorable and hot. Afterward, he looks completely wrecked, but Emma tells him it was a one time thing and tells him to wait a little bit before coming back to camp. He touches his lips and shakes his head as if he still can’t believe that actually happened. Aww. And then, of course, Pan has to come and ruin his afterglow. Hook thinks Emma’s finally seeing him as a man of honor, but Pan has a big secret that he wants to see what Hook will do about it. He tells him Neal is alive and in Neverland, and what’s Hook: Man of Honor, going to do with that secret when it could potentially get in the way of his budding romance with Emma. Hook looks like he just got scratched by Dreamshade.
Pan: In the past he doesn’t seem to be nearly as evil. He technically doesn’t do anything but tell Killian and Liam the truth. He warns them about the Dreamshade, tells them what it actually does, but Liam decides he’s smarter than a little boy (Pan looks around 13, he’s not that little, plus he lives on the island). He warns Killian that there will be a price to pay for saving Liam’s life, and like most people when dealing with magic, doesn’t ask what the price is before partaking of it. But Pan doesn’t play games with the Jones Brothers at all. It’s no wonder Killian decided to go back there after Milah’s death, he had no idea how ruthless Pan had become.
Currently, Pan is all about playing games. Henry is goaded into a wooden stick fight by one of the Lost Boys (Devon according to IMDB), and Pan thinks they’d have more fun if Henry had a real sword. So he gets Henry to imagine it’s real, and it becomes real. Pan actually looks impressed. Pan cheers Henry on to fight against Devon (even though he still has a spear), and when Henry hurts Devon and apologizes, Pan tells him Lost Boys don’t need to say they’re sorry (so basic decency goes right out the window when becoming a Lost Boy, got it). He encourages the Lost Boys to cheer for Henry for slicing up Devon’s face. Okay. We next see Pan trying to get Hook to work for him again at the top of Dead Man’s Peak. Hook doesn’t want to work for him again. Pan is suddenly in front of Hook and says he’ll offer his passage off the island and he can take Emma with him. Hook is pretty sure Emma wouldn’t leave Henry, but Pan says she’s done it before. Hook claims he’s not interested, but Pan says they’ve known each other a long time, and he knows Hook is a survivor. Pan wants him to do his dirty work for him. He won’t take Hook’s word though, he wants action, he wants Hook to take his hook and run it through David when they get to the top of Dead Man’s Peak. Hook wants to know what happens if he doesn’t take his offer and Pan reminds him of the last time he didn’t listen to him, then disappears when David appears. Pan comes to Hook again after the kiss with Emma, telling him he should have taken his deal. Hook thinks Emma sees him for who he really is now, but Pan reminds him that he’s just a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. Pan let’s Hook know that Neal is still alive and in Neverland. He takes great pleasure in reminding Hook that Neal is the man that Emma actually loves. He clearly thinks that Hook will keep this information to himself so he can win Emma’s heart.
David: Ok, I get that David is dying, but he’s also being a huge ass and pain in the ass in this episode. Seriously, Hook is showing actual concern about him not telling his family, and all David can do is tell him to stay away from his daughter. David, your daughter is a grown-ass woman with an 11-year-old son, who has slayed a dragon and broken a curse, I think she can decide who the hell she wants to kiss/date/fuck/hang out with all on her own. Calm the fuck down. Anyway, Hook wants David to tell his family about his whole dying thing, but David thinks it’s selfish to think about himself when Henry still needs rescuing (because they’ll just toss your body aside and not care when you die?).  David tells Hook he’s coming with him to get more vines for the trap they’re building. He only goes when Emma tells him to. David has that annoyed look on his face again. They argue again about Emma, which ends with David trying to punch Hook, but passing out from the exertion. David wakes up to Hook pouring rum in his mouth, something he’s not happy about. David shows Hook how close the Dreamshade is to his chest and Hook tells him it will kill him when it reaches his heart. Hook tells him he has hours left. David finds Liam’s insignia on the ground and Killian spins a yarn about his brother fighting a duel with Pan at the top of Dead Man’s Peak. This piques David’s interest, especially when Hook reveals there Liam’s sextant could still possibly be up there, and that could get them off the island. David decides they need to find the sextant, and even if he dies on the journey, Hook can get it back to Emma, so they can get off the island. He even tells Hook he’ll be a hero, which I guess David thinks Hook wants to be. The men head off (but not before David gives Emma a big heartfelt hug and gives Mary Margaret a long good-bye kiss). David does try to soften the blow to Mary Margaret by saying they don’t know what could happen on the journey to and from Dead Man’s Peak, but Mary Margaret knows he’ll be alright. David tells Hook to tell Mary Margaret and Emma that he died a hero, and not that he was stupid and didn’t tell them he’d been dying of Dreamshade poisoning for the last few days.  Hook wonders why he should do that, and David calls him out for stealing the bean in the first place that could have avoided this whole Neverland mess in the first place. Hook tells him at least he got to say good-bye and David realizes that Hook has lost someone. Hook deflects so David tells him about James and they both agree they are very similar to their brothers. Hook goes to the top of Dead Man’s Peak and tells David to wait until he throws the rope down for him, but apparently his conversation with Pan ran too long and David decided to climb up on his own. Right. Once they get to the Dreamshade, David pulls his sword on Hook because he heard his conversation with Pan. He just wants to get the sextant and get out of there. He looks absolutely betrayed when Hook tells him he made up the story about the sextant. David thinks Hook brought him there to die. Hook tells him he brought him there to save his life. David tries to punch Hook but Hook punches him. Hook awakens him after getting the spring water. David now has Dreamshade climbing up his face. Hook tells him about the price of the water, but David thinks it’s worth it to save his grandson. The Dreamshade recedes and his bruises heal when he drinks the water. When David gets back to camp he immediately pulls Mary Margaret into a passionate kiss. He heralds the women with Hook’s ‘heroics’ in saving his life against the Lost Boys, and toasts him for being a hero.
Emma/Mary Margaret/Regina: Emma and Hook find tally marks by Bae’s bed. Mary Margaret thinks the tallies stop because he got off the island, but Emma thinks it’s because he lost hope of ever getting off the island, Regina, is obnoxious as usual about Emma’s inference, but Emma says that’s how she felt every time she was moved to another foster home (she kept count how long she was there and gave up hope of staying? leaving?) Emma feels that Henry is losing hope. Her parents try to convince her that they’re doing everything to save Henry, but Emma points out that Henry doesn’t know that. He doesn’t even know they’re there trying to save him. Regina wants to know how they’re going to send him a message. That gives Mary Margaret an idea. Hook tells Emma he understands losing hope, but she thinks he’s trying to bond with her and she doesn’t have time for that. Mary Margaret’s plan is to trap a Lost Boy to get a message to Henry. Mary Margaret and Emma are threading vines together. Emma is secretly watching Hook (though she’s not really being discreet at all), and when she tells Hook to help David find more vines, Mary Margaret definitely gives Emma a questioning look, like she’s wondering what’s happening between Emma and Hook. Hook tells them about the sextant when they get back and Emma wants to go get it. Hook convinces her to stay and finish the trap for the Lost Boy, because Henry is relying on them, while he and David go get it. Both Emma and Mary Margaret notice something is off with David when he hugs and kisses them good-bye, but Emma is more focused on Henry and Mary Margaret just doesn’t think anything more bad can happen to them, so she tells David she’ll see him when he gets back with the sextant. The women lie in wait until Devon comes in trying to catch a wild pig. He gets caught in Mary Margaret’s net instead. They try to appeal to him as mothers (and with chocolate, because teenage boys will apparently do anything for chocolate, Regina?), promising they’ll take him away from Pan and back to his home. Devon informs them that the reason they’re all there is because they don’t want to go home. Emma points out the slash on his face, but Devon informs them that Henry did that. Emma looks pissed and Regina looks shocked. Devon keeps blathering on about Henry becoming a Lost Boy and a vicious one at that. Emma is pretty much strangling him at this point until Mary Margaret grabs her off of him. Regina wants to rip Devon’s heart out so they can get the message to Henry that way, but Mary Margaret is against it. She figures there must be a more humane way to get their message to Henry. Emma agrees with Regina and holds Mary Margaret back so Regina can take Devon’s heart. Emma keeps apologizing to Mary Margaret but still thinks it was the only way. Mary Margaret wants to make sure Emma doesn’t cross the line into Regina territory. Emma will do whatever it takes to get Henry home. Mary Margaret says that saving Henry can’t cost them their family. If they don’t save him won’t it break their family apart as well? Regina breaks apart a compact mirror and tells them they’ll be able to talk to Henry through it. Devon delivers the mirror and they all tell Henry they’re there to rescue him. He thinks it’s a trick at first, but when Emma calls it Operation Cobra Rescue, he believes them. Unfortunately, Pan is coming, so he breaks the mirror. Emma, Mary Margaret, and Regina are relieved and happy to have talked to Henry. Mary Margaret wonders if Henry is okay. Emma is convinced that now that he’s seen them he won’t lose hope and they’ll be able to rescue him. Mary Margaret apologizes for doubting Emma. She didn’t want Emma to give into darkness. Regina reminds her that Emma didn’t, she pulled Devon’s heart and that’s why she’s there. To do the dark things Emma and Mary Margaret won’t do. David and Hook come back and Mary Margaret is surprised by the kiss he plants on her. Both Emma and Regina are very uncomfortable with the kiss. It’s hilarious. David explains that Hook saved his life, they toast him, and then Emma thanks Hook. He turns on the charm and Emma tells him he couldn’t handle her; he pushes back that she couldn’t handle him, so she plants a big kiss on him. She clearly wants more, but pulls away, because Emma has walls. Emma says it’s a one time thing. She tells him to get firewood before coming back. He says ‘As You Wish’ and Emma smiles because everyone in our realm knows what that line means, even if Hook doesn’t. It’s a sweet little coda to their kiss.
Henry: He uses his imagination to turn a piece of wood into a real sword and then accidentally slices Devon’s face. He immediately apologizes, but Pan tries to convince him that Lost Boys don’t need to apologize for anything. Henry is forlornly drawing a house in the dirt with his sword. Poor kid is obviously homesick.  Devon comes by with the message from Regina.  He pushes him backward away from the camp, ruining the picture Henry just drew. Henry doesn’t believe him. He thinks he’s making it up to get back at him for slicing his face. Eventually, Devon gives him the compact half and Henry believes!
Questions:
Why is everyone so adamant about Henry losing hope? Isn’t he the biggest believer there is? He never gave up hope that Emma would break the curse. He never gave up hope that Emma and Mary Margaret would make it back from the Enchanted Forest. Why would he suddenly give up hope after being in Neverland for less than a week?
Who in the Jones’ kingdom has been to Neverland before and has been there so often that there are star charts, a sextant, and a picture of Dreamshade for the Jones brothers to use?
When did Hook ‘drop’ the insignia for David to find? When he was passed out?
How can Emma get the Lost Boys home? Most of their families are probably dead depending on how long they’ve been there.
Dead Man’s Peak looks like a strenuous hike. How the hell did David make it up there without dying first when he could barely take a punch at Hook without passing out?
How is Killian using the sextant while in the air? He can’t see the horizon from above the clouds.
Why are only two people, out of the entire crew, going to look for the plant on the island?
Is it customary to automatically draw swords and question (and distrust) locals when you’re a stranger on their island?
What dirty work could Pan possibly have off the island?
Why does Liam immediately pass out after he scratches himself with the Dreamshade whereas it’s taken David a few days to get weaker? Is it because Liam was infected right from the source and David’s wound came from an arrow dipped in the poison? And Gold took a few days before he almost died, and that was supposed to be a concentrated dose.
Do the Jones’ Brothers live in a kingdom or a realm, because Killian mentions hoping the realm sides with them when Liam wants to expose the king?
Why isn’t Emma’s super powers working on David’s bullshit story?
How far away are they from land when the ship landed in the water? They seem to have plenty of time to sew Liam into a burial shroud, which with the intricacy of that stitching, would probably take a few hours.
Seriously, where does Pan get all his information? How does he know Emma still loves Neal?
Observations:
There are 471 slash marks by Bae’s bed. They have 6 tallies then a slash, most likely representing days in a week. I counted 67 groupings (but the ones under the bed are smudged, so there could be more). This puts Bae giving up hope after about a year and a little over 3 months (going by our calendar system). I’m assuming that he went back to the Lost Boys once he lost hope, but it doesn’t explain the coconut star map. I would think he stopped counting because he escaped. Otherwise it means he didn’t use the star map to escape.
It’s great that Regina is able to keep her lipstick so fresh. 
Pan blinks in and out of places just like Rumplestiltskin does. He doesn’t poof with smoke like Regina and Cora do.
Whomever the Jones’ brother’s kingdom is fighting is another race completely.
Poor Killian. Both Liam and Milah died in his arms.
Firsts:
Emma kissing Hook (sorry, spoiler)
Names:
Liam - Is the Irish short form of William, keeping in with Killian’s name which is also Irish.
So Henry believes he’ll be rescued. Emma kissed Hook! David is no longer on death’s door, but he can’t leave the island. Wonder how Mary Margaret will react to that little piece of news. Hook now knows that Neal is alive. And Neal is trapped in a box, and there is another mysterious box next to his.
Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.
@searchingwardrobes​​​ @thisonesatellite​​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @mariakov81​​​ @lfh1226-linda​
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icypantherwrites · 4 years
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Matt + Food Poisoning Fic Prompt
Another fic from the Ko-Fis for Koalas event, featuring Matt Holt + Food Poisoning. If you enjoy it please consider leaving a comment and also please consider donating to a charity of your choice to help Australia!
Timeline notes: Not applicable; after Matt is rescued from the Galra
A hard knock sounded outside the bathroom door.
Matt didn’t answer it.
Puking was more important.
He clung to the strange shaped toilet, arms quivering as much as his stomach, throat raw and face flushed and sweaty.
It was not the way he’d wanted his new team to see him.
He’d been free of the Galra prisons for barely a week and had been introduced to the Rebel unit he’d be working with under command of Captain Olia just that day and while he was still reeling a bit Matt had known without a doubt he wanted to make a good impression.
Vomiting up his insides was not a good impression.
His intentions had been good even as his gut told him not to eat what Te-Osh had been serving to the team; some sort of meat that honestly looked like raw chicken. But everyone else had been eating it and Matt had learned not to be picky and he wasn’t going to ask for an alternate option on his first day and come across as some snob.
Welp.
He should have asked for something else. 
Humans were clearly not meant to eat whatever that had been. 
He winced as another cramp assaulted his stomach, moaning low into the toilet bowl.
The knock sounded louder, along with a sharp bark of his name.
Olia.
His captain.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
“I’m…” his voice was a croak. “I’m fine.”
He did not sound fine.
There was silence.
And then a bang and the door flew open.
Matt had the passing thought he was very grateful everything was coming out the one end at the moment because being caught sitting on the toilet would be even worse.
He didn’t see Olia, not daring to turn his head lest he projectile vomit in the small room, but he heard her sharp inhale and a noise Bae-Bae would make when he was in distress.
He doubted the smell of vomit was all that kind on likely her more sensitive canine-like nose.
But Olia was a captain and a damn good one who he’d seen even in the short day he’d known her cared about her team and so he wasn’t entirely surprised when a paw settled itself on his back even if it did still make him jerk and then groan as his stomach protested the movement.
“You are sick?” Olia asked softly, accent even thicker in the low volume.
Matt gave the barest shake of his head. “No. Just… just food poison—”
He broke off as his stomach gave another lurch and more bile spattered into the toilet.
“Poison?” Olia barked. “You have been poisoned on my ship?”
“N-no, not... not like that.” He carefully, carefully turned his head, finding Olia crouched right next to him and her face a mixture of concern, anger and confusion. 
“Not real poison. Just… my stomach didn’t…”
Her face softened instantly. “Ah. Te-Osh’s meal did not agree with you.”
Matt’s face answered that.
“I am sorry,” Olia murmured, her paw rubbing a circle on his back and Matt tried to pretend the tears stinging his eyes were from his stomach because the action was too reminiscent of his mom and God how he missed her.
“‘S fine,” Matt choked out. 
“What can I do?” Olia murmured.
“Um, I, I need to stay… stay hydrated,” Matt managed.
“Stay here,” Olia rose, as though Matt would do anything else right now, although his lips twitched at the command. “I shall fetch water and tea.” Her paw left his back but came to rest on his head, giving it a gentle pat. “We will make this better.”
And as Olia left and Matt hunched fully back over the toilet, stomach still rolling but settled at the same time with the warm words, he knew things would be.
And maybe…
Maybe his first impression hadn’t been so horrible after all.
CLICK BELOW FOR LINKS TO ICYPANTHER’S: AO3 | KO-FI | PATREON |BOOKSHOP 
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wallsinner · 5 years
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Training Wheels | 1 | Jean x F!Reader
Title: Training Wheels Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Female Reader Warnings: Swearing, Discussions of Virginity, Eventual Smut, Chapter Summary: Your friend Jean has a lot to complain about. Words: 2k Notes: I first started writing this in 2016(!!) and you can find this first chapter in it's first draft on ao3 if you're that way inclined, but I rewrote it, replanned it and I'm *so* excited to be rewriting it. The first chapter of Tear in my Heart -- aka the story from Jean's POV -- will be up on Monday at around 10PM GMT.
If there is one mystery you want solved, one question you want answered, it was why are you genetically predisposed to being the laziest of assholes. You’ve been so since you were a kid and personally, you blame your father because it’s a habit you’ve picked up from him at the very least. And you always suffer for it.
Like, right now, you are suffering because you’re more than well aware that if you’d gotten out of your pit of a bed when your alarm had rung this morning, then you would have had plenty of time to get your butt into the kitchen and produce yourself a tasty sandwich -- or maybe even a salad -- from what you’ve salvaged from the fridge, but oh no, what had you done?
You’d snoozed the alarm, twice. And then when you were finally ready to be awake, you’d lay in bed for forty-five minutes needlessly scrolling through your phone, checking your notes on Tumblr, your Snapchat and your Instagram stories. Hell… you’d even gone on Facebook even though nobody even uses Facebook in this day and age. Then you’d clicked over to Buzzfeed, done a couple of quizzes to find out which Disney Princess you were and played a couple of rounds of solitaire. And then you’d realized the time and jumped in and out of the shower, choosing instead of washing your hair, to slip the head of the shower beneath your legs, which had led you to not even having time to dry off and to just toss some clothes on, grab your bag and get out the door.
You had good intentions every morning, but… you just didn’t act on them. And this was why you used your shower head every morning because you were such a flake that no dude wanted to come near you. Well, that and the company you kept.
And so you’d had no breakfast and two long lectures had basically put you into starvation mode and so you’d had no choice but to drag yourself to the caf and get the special of the day -- which claimed to be shepherds pie, but should have been renamed ‘brown sludge with white bits and the odd pea’ -- which you were like… a thousand percent sure you were going to get food poisoning from, but hey, at least your stomach wouldn’t be eating itself.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow you will be better. You will get out of bed when your alarm goes off, you will go downstairs and get some breakfast and then you’ll have a long shower -- but you won’t masturbate, trying to get the shower head on that one spot is far too time consuming -- and put together something that is fit for human consumption to bring for lunch. Hell, when you get back home tonight maybe you’ll even take the time to sniff everything that’s on the floordrobe and maybe put it in the washing,
Maybe you’ll even fully clean your room while you’re waiting for the spin cycle to complete.
Actually, nah, maybe you’ll just watch the new episode of Catfish and eat a fat bowl of pasta.
You shudder as you look down at the ‘food’ again and with disdain, put the plastic fork (sidenote -- you know that Trost Community College ain’t exactly Oxbridge, but would it kill them to dish out the cash for one of those industrial dishwashers instead of trying to kill the planet you have to raise your children on -- near your mouth. You’re real tempted to hold your nose while you gulp it down, but you don’t really want to give Hitch Dreyse and her crew more ammunition for thinking you’re weird, so you just brace yourself and shove it in.
Well.
At least it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks. Definitely nothing gourmet, but if you distract yourself, then you’re probably gonna be able to finish it. You shove another forkful in and whip your phone out of your pocket, loading up Lovestruck and deciding to reread a few chapters of Ash Winters to distract yourself.
You’re about to come to one of the best sex scenes in the whole ‘book’, ignoring the world around you when a loud thump pulls you away from your Gangster bae. Peering over the top of your phone, you catch a glimpse of a thick, Art History book -- the cause of the thump, you’re sure -- as Jean slides into the seat opposite you.
You’ve known Jean forever. He’s basically the Boy Next Door, except he’s less Boy Next Door and more Boy Down the Road and on the Right Hand Side. He’s the only one of your little group of friends -- The Raspberry Crew, as you’d decided to name yourselves when you were five -- who still lives there. And like you, he’s also dumb as a bunch of rocks so he’s at community college too, so you spend a lot of time together.
“Hi.” You say.
He doesn’t reply, just looks at you and narrows his eyes as he pulls his own lunch out. It’s in a brown paper bag and of course it was handmade lovingly by the wonderful Mrs. Kirschtein, who was the nicest woman you knew and adored her son so much. Whereas your own mother liked to yell at you all the time to get out of bed and stop being a fuck up. Rude. Is it too late for her to adopt you?
“Okay,” you tell him. “I’ll bite. What’s going on?”
He looks up at you and the expression on his face changes from someone who wants to commit a murder, to someone who just watched their puppy get kicked into the sun. “It’s… nothing, really. It’s just…” he gives a big dramatic sigh. “Finally official.”
“What,” you ask him. “In all of the seven hells are you talking about?”
He looks around in an over dramatic gesture, to make sure that nobody is looking at the two of you and them just as over dramatically he leans in to you. “It is official.” His voice is a stage whisper, so that nobody can hear the two of you, like he’s in fucking Hamlet or some shit. “I’m the last virgin in Trost.”
And in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to take a bite of your food as he was speaking because you splutter, covering his face in little bits of half-chewed mince and reach for your water. When he’s wiped his face and your choking has subsided, you look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” he snarls. “I know you did and I’m not repeating myself again.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I, uh, I definitely heard you, I’m just wondering if I heard you right. And if I did infact hear you right, I’m wondering when exactly between your Mom coddling you, your lectures, moping after Mikasa Ackerman and your homework did you manage to go around canvassing Trost to come to this conclusion. Cuz uh, if you did Kirsch then you’ve screwed your numbers up because you’re probably not the only one with your V-Plates still on this room, let alone in Trost.” You are technically a virgin, you’ve fooled around with a few people, sure and you’re pretty sure Jean just assumes you lost it to Marcel Galliard because he did walk in on you at a party with his dick in your mouth that one time, but are you going to admit that nothing but the streams from your shower head have penetrated you? Fuck no, you know he’s got a big mouth. “Also… there are children in Trost.” Jean is seemingly as disgusted by you that your brain went there judging by the fact he balls up his brown bag and throws it at your head.
“Sometimes I think there is something very wrong with you.” Shucks, you’re flattered, but hey at least it distracted him from his misery for all of five seconds. “But okay fine, all of the people in Trost who are of age,” he tells you through gritted together.
“Again,” you ask. “When was this survey conducted?” You push your plate away because honestly this conversation had made your appetite much, much less raging.
“I didn’t do a fucking survey,” he tells you a little more aggressive than is necessary in your opinion. “I just know and do you want to know how I know?”
Honestly, you didn’t really because you never know what the hell is going to come out of his mouth, but you know that if you say you don’t want to know then he is just going to ignore your wishes and come out with it anyway so you just keep quite and say nothing and barely five seconds pass, before he opens his mouth again.
“Marco.”
“Oh,” you can’t help but laugh because Marco Bodt is the nicest human being and at one point you had the hugest crush on him and you honestly can’t picture him bullying Jean by taunting him, it’s too surreal. “So Marco did the survey? Or die he come up to you and say…” you put on your best Marco voice. “Oh hey Jean, did you know you’re the last…” and the look on Jean’s face is another for you to shut your fucking mouth and not finish that sentence.
“There was no survey,” he’s talking to you through gritted teeth again and you can see the tips of his ears are a fiery red, a sure sign he is about to loose his temper. “Forget about the fucking survey. I came by to see if you were getting the bus this morning and your Mom said your ass was still in bed, so I walked over to his instead,” he takes a deep breathe. “His Mom sent me straight up to his room because he was still getting ready, which I thought was really weird because when is Marco ever late to anything and well… he and that brunette from his Psychology class were in bed together.”
Well, your appetite is definitely gone now, former crush or not, it’s never nice to hear something like that about someone you once liked. “…That doesn’t mean they’ve slept together, we’ve slept in the same bed together and has your dick been inside me? No, not it has not.”
“Trust me,” Jean shudders. “I left them too it and when I spoke to him earlier, well, he turned into a human tomato at the mention of her name.” He pauses. “Plus her tits were out.” Ugh, you can feel the brown sludge on the move and you know the brunette he’s talking about and you really, really hope that Mina Carolina took her pigtails out when she got smashed and oh your God, you cannot believe you just thought of sweet angel Marco and smashing, where did that brown bag go, you may need it. “And the last time we slept in a bed together we were both six.”
“Nah, it was last April when you got fucked at Reiner Braun’s party and I had to bring you home with me so your mother wouldn’t see you in that state.” You wave your hand, indicating that you want to change the subject. “Did I really need to know about Marco? I’m sure he’d prefer you kept that one quiet.”
“You’re the one who made me prove my life is over.”
“Oh puh-lease, your life is not over. You are just an overdramatic fuck. It will happen.”
“Oh yeah? When?”
You raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh let me just consult my crystal ball! Look, Jean, it will happen when you meet the right…”
“I swear to God, if you say when I meet the right person… I already did remember?” He sends a longing look across the caf and you don’t even have to follow his eyeline to know where he’s looking. At Mikasa Ackerman of course, a girl he met at the beginning of your time here, she’s Eren, a sort of frenemy of sorts of Jean’s foster sister. You’d thought it was kind of cute at first, until she’d gotten a girlfriend and he’d stayed as deluded as ever.
“Remember that time when ‘Kasa told you that even if she wasn’t with Annie she wouldn’t give you the time of day?” He doesn’t look away from her, so you’re guessing he didn’t hear you. Or he’s choosing to pretend he didn’t hear you. “Jean!”
“What?”
“Look, I promise you that it’ll happen. You’ve just got to wait it out.”
He pulls a face and starts gathering his things up. “Whatever. You don’t know that.”
You grin at him mischievously. “Oh it will, because if it hasn’t happened by your thirty-fifth birthday, I’ll buy you a hooker.”
“Fuck you.” He tells you, but there’s no actual malice in his words. You just smirk at him.
And the two of you go your separate ways for the rest of the day.
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freakynerd85 · 4 years
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Take A Bow
Title: Take A Bow
Pairing: James Ashton x Vivian (MC)
Rating: Angst
Word count: 911 words
My disclaimer: This character is owned by PB, I just enjoy some elaboration. I really love James Ashton and I love Choices fanfics, especially nasty ass stuff but there isn’t much featuring my original bae, James Ashton from The Freshman series
So, I decided to put my amateur ass talent to work and write with James being the *star of the story*
A/N: * is a separator due to scene change, use of Daddy. My pc is broken. This is my first time posting from my phone (a full story). Don’t judge me too harshly lol.
"That note you found looks like Shaun's handwriting"
Vivian stood rifling through the closet, although her back is facing  James she can still feel the shift of emotions when she says Shaun's name.
"Oh, so that note is from when you were fucking him."
James doesn't even attempt to disguise his dismay regarding Shaun.
"James!!" She exclaims at the vulgarity of his word choice. "Don't talk that way. You only speak that way when we're being intimate and I like it like that. AND I never had sex with Shaun."
"He flirts with you incessantly, He's even attempted to pursue you to leave me while I was holding your hand. And I am to believe that you didn't fuck him,you only kissed him?”
"Yup. You're the only one for -" she's interrupted by the sound of her phone. She picks it up and is silent as she reads the screen.
"You went suddenly silent. Is everything okay? Your mom?"
"Yeah....you know....you know I can't multitask. Shaun texted I was texting back."
"Are you fuckin kidding me!? You stop talking to your HUSBAND to respond to your boyfriend!?" He snatches her phone out of her hand and dashes for the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
She bangs on the bathroom door as James sits silently reading her messages to Shaun.
"James, give me my damn phone!"
"My kids are at home today, I don't need to see you anyway" James reads aloud to inform her that he's in her messages when his yelling comes to an abrupt cease.
Vivian continues banging on the door "James, what the hell!? Open the damn door!". To her surprise, James opens the door and throws her phone at her, wordlessly leaving the house.
"What the...?" She speaks aloud after he slams the door, looking at her phone to see exactly what causes James to leave. Her eyes widen as she frantically dials Shaun.
"Shaun. He found out. He knows! Oh my gosh, he knows!" Her words are clear but frantic, a tone of emergency behind them.
"Slow down, sexy. Who knows what?"
"James knows that I poisoned Reyna and that you helped me!"
Shaun trades his cool demeanor for urgency,
"WHAT!?!? How does he know ANYTHING!?"
"He took my phone, read our messages."
"Why did you keep those!? Fuck!"
"I don't know! I don't know! I wasn't thinking! What are we gonna do?"
"You know what? You have that man ready to do anything at your request. He ain't calling the cops or nothin. Y'all will argue and make up."
Vivian sits on the couch,
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. He loves me unconditionally. Thanks for the reminder, Shaun. You always save me."
"And always will. Text you later."
"Okay, bye"
**
"Hi, I'm here because I have new information on a cold case."
"What case?"
"The Black Mamba case"
"Oh, you're gonna need to see Detective Lee. Let me see if she's available."
"Thank you officer" James remains standing in front of the officer, hoping it is showing his commitment to the urgency of his information. Looking through his phone to refrain from staring at the officer while he waits. After moments pass,
"Detective Lee will see you. Straight through the first door on the right" He leans to shake the officer's hand, "Thanks again Officer." and walks to the necessary office.
"Hmph. What a good citizen." The officer mumbles to himself while watching James open the door to Detective Lee's office.
"Hello. Have a seat, Mr...."
"Ashton. Or you can call me James "
She sits tall in a blue suit with her hair pulled back tightly in a neat, high ponytail.
"So what have you got for me?"
Grabbing his phone while maintaining eye contact with the detective, "I know who did it."
The detective quits shuffling through the paperwork on her desk.
"There's no trace evidence. How does this guy know whose guilty.?"
Realizing she said that out loud and not in her mind as she intended, she quickly speaks n correction
"What I meant was, who?"
"My wife. Vivian Ashton"
James winces at the words, ashamed to acknowledge he's married to a murderer.
"Your wife? How do you know?"
Placing his phone on Detective Lee's desk.
"A text message between her and her boyfriend. I took a screenshot as well as forwarding the entire thread to myself. Her boyfriend, Shaun, was definitely involved."
"Wow. An accomplice is something I never would have considered. Can you send me the transcript?"
"Of course. Where should I send it?"
"Fax it. You can get the fax number on the way out." She unbuttons a few buttons from the top of her shirt.
"And I'm sorry about all this. I know its gotta be difficult. Finding out your wife is cheating and she's a murderer. You know how to reach me." She winks at James and he smiles in return. "Thanks, Detective."
James printed and faxed the message thread between Vivian and Shaun to Detective Lee.
Shaun has since been arrested and immediately plead guilty to murder in the first degree. He was sentenced to 31 years. He has a lengthy criminal record and that worked against him.
Vivian was questioned and released. Having been tried and found innocent means she can't be tried for the same crime due to double jeopardy.
James stayed single and dedicated to his two kids. Logan wants to write an original comic book.
Giselle wants to anchor the news...
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Lost by Choice
Welp, this is the Naked and Afraid AU that absolutely no one in the world asked for. I’m trying to get back into writing, and last weekend I watched a lot of Naked & Afraid (I usually watch Investigation Discovery, but was exhausted with murder), and I just couldn’t stop seeing an AU opportunity. I don’t know. Maybe someone out there will appreciate? 
Part 1 of 2 Rating: Teen (swearing) Word Count: 2200ish
AO3
In retrospect, a televised challenge with a little less dehydration and mosquito bites would have been a smarter choice. Maybe one that didn't involve literal hunting for food and water. But Killian Jones was always one for a challenge. He was a survivor. He had already lived through a thousand different hells (hyperbole); he could live through this one, too. Except he hadn't slept in 3 days, hadn't had clean water (aside from opening his mouth in the rain) in the same amount of time. Oh, and he was slightly in love with his very naked partner who very much despised him.
Yeah, Killian being a survivor and all, he should have chosen to audition for that show. Not Naked and fucking Afraid. 
But noooo he'd been determined to prove himself. And to whom? He didn't have anyone around anymore to impress. Liam was dead. Milah was dead. Bae made it perfectly clear Killian should consider him dead. He'd lost everyone and everything and apparently the long-lost emo kid inside him decided he needed to take that metaphor and make it literal and audition for a show where he was cold and he was ashamed, lying broken on the floor.
Wait, no, that wasn't it.
(The delirium had set in.)
Surviving in the worst of conditions had drawn him to this particular (idiotic) challenge, but there was something, too, in the partnership aspect. Being paired with only one other person, just as stranded as you, to finish out the task... maybe it was his complete loneliness or, again, the part of him who couldn't resist a challenge, but it intrigued him. How do you put all of your individual experiences together to form a bond, a team, that would keep them alive for 21 days without another soul?
Then he was paired with Emma fucking Swan.
Let it be known: Killian wasn't a creeper. He didn't pick this show so he could stare at some tits for 21 days. The naked part was entirely about being stripped of all comfort and all help. Nothing sexual about it, you wankers. But he'd have to have been blind to not see how goddamn gorgeous this woman was. Toned, lean, yet soft. An innocence about her, but a regal kind of confidence all the same. She was like a Disney Princess and a intergalactic thief all in one. So perhaps his cock twitched just a bit upon meeting her, but he's a fucking gentleman and he could keep it in his damn pants.
(If he'd had pants.)
This was his tactical partner, and nothing more.
They didn't exactly hit it off, but their skills were nothing to scoff at. Killian's past in the Royal Navy, his service abroad, and his extensive knowledge of tropical vegetation made for a great foundation for survival. As for Emma, she was the scrappy one. She was an improviser, a problem-solver, and a bold woman who'd lived without a home for many years. A fact that, quite simply, made Killian sad. He might not have his home anymore, but at least he'd had one. Once upon a time.
But Emma wasn't a fan of his feelings, it seemed.
"Wipe the pity off your face, Jones. I'm fine. I survived. And I'm going to survive now, with or without you." For the first time, Emma awkwardly crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to maintain modesty, and full-on scowled at him. They hadn't been what you'd call friendly yet, but they didn't exactly know each other yet, either. Of course they'd have to ease into it.But it seemed Emma wanted to just ease right back out and jump into hostile territory.
She was skilled as hell. Quite the badass, in fact. When Killian identified the best place for a shelter, she immediately laid out the plan to build it. And then just... did it. He looked at the map and figured out the best place to get freshwater, and as soon as he set out to gather it, she lit the fire. That first day they were productive as hell and those 21 days were looking like a cake walk.
And then there was the nearby hurricane. That first night, about an hour after sunset, the rain began. 
And it never. Fucking. Stopped.
It was freezing, way too cold to sleep. And when he suggested to Emma that maybe they huddle for warmth, she shot razor blades out her (beautiful) eyes at him. "I'm not looking to bed you, Swan, we're just trying to survive here. Princess might need to accept that despite her beauty not every man is looking to fuck her," he'd snapped around 3am, the wind whipping so strongly he was sure their roof was going to fail at any moment.
"Princess? I've been working my ass off here and definitely pulling my weight. Don't act like I'm some spoiled bitch who just came here looking for a strong man to protect me. Nobody saves me but me, OK? And if I don't want you to touch me, you fucking won't."
There was probably a story there, probably something about as tragic as her having lived without a home, but he wasn't going to touch it. There was no benefit to aggravating her further. They had the skills for this. They made a good team, even if she didn't quite see it yet. And he could shove down all attraction for the sake of survival. He would be fine.
(What he wouldn't give for a rice allowance and a reward challenge. Damn him for not sending that tape to CBS instead of Discovery)
The next two days were more of the same. Emma's fire had long been extinguished by the rain and they'd yet to locate anywhere dry enough to attempt to build a new one. The wind was constant and kept changing directions, so even the portions of the jungle with the most canopy were still drenched. The freshwater Killian had found was muddy as hell and couldn't be drunk before boiling it - and with no fire, they had no means to boil.And food - well, they were running on probably 120 calories between them across the 3 days.
Their dynamic was, frankly, exhausting. They'd be cooperating just fine, talking strategy or accident prevention (it was business, all business), and then he'd offer to do just one too many things and she'd shut down. The fact that her walls seemed to attract him more was... problematic. And annoying. He needed one blasted healthy relationship in his miserable life. This woman, though stunning in every way, clearly had baggage so massive she needed a 757 all to herself and yet all he could think was how he wanted to be her pilot. ("I'd fly the fucking plane myself, Jones," she would probably say. If she were in his head. Was she? Is she? Was he talking out loud by accident?)
He was tired and though the rain had stopped for a while, the mosquitoes had sure as hell started and he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been in his entire life - and he'd stood at a funeral between his (dead) lover and her husband/murderer, half covered in poison ivy from the previous week's (ultimately "successful") search for her.
(No, he shouldn't have chosen Survivor instead. He should have chosen staying the fuck home and watching these complete wankers on the goddamn telly.)
(The British was strong when he was pissed.)
(God, a pint would be nice right about now.)
The lack of sleep, the bug bites, the constant war with his partner, it got to him. It broke him. He snapped. Those were the easy ways of describing the tirade that began that afternoon after her shutting him out once again.
"Why the hell are you even here, Swan? Have you not seen this fucking show before? One man. And one woman. Together. This wasn't a survive on your own thing. Ever! You knew from the start you were going to have to interact with another human. Of which you seem utterly incapable! This place is hell but it would be 100% better for me if you weren't fucking here!"
Emma sat, seemingly gobsmacked, still curled with her knees at her chest, sitting upright against their shelter. But it didn't take long before the fire almost literally shot from her eyes.
"Absolutely agreed! This place would be much better if I weren't stuck with you. I was hoping that I'd be given a partner who didn't know what he was doing and tapped out in a few days so I could just do this thing alone. But. There's nothing to say I still can't." At that, she stood, grabbing her satchel and awkwardly playing with the mic pack around her neck. "If you could just hand me the map, I'll get out of your hair and I'll see you again for extraction in a few weeks, kay?"
Mmmkay, maybe he was rethinking that whole "falling in love with her" thing. Because right now he mostly wanted to set her on fire.
"Seriously, Swan? You're running away?"
"I've been reliably told it's what I do best."
With one last glare, Emma turned away from him, snagging the map and studying it just a moment before trudging off East.
---
Of all the stupid ass ideas she's had in her life, this one had to be the dumbest. She doesn't like relying on anyone else. Or being forced to be around someone else. So why in the name of hell would she sign up for a TV show where she was stuck with one person 24/7 for three fucking weeks?
And, oh, god, the people at home who would watch this. Of course it would be edited to make her look even crazier than she objectively was being. And Killian would look like the hero, AKA the exact opposite of what she wanted. She'd come here to prove that she could survive when you took everything away. Everything.
No weapons... no friends... no hope. Take all that away and what's left? 
Me.
Oh, god. Was she hallucinating Buffy scenes? And not even positive ones. Sure, Buffy kicked some ass after that, but then she lost... everything.
Emma's whole life had been lost. Why did she think she needed any more?Because Lost Girls end up in the jungle of Neverland. Apparently.
And pushing away a dude who has done nothing but try to do like the show is meant for an survive as a team? Downright idiotic. But she's backed herself into a bit of a corner now, storming off like that. And there's a reason they say Pride is the deadliest sin. It makes you do the dumbest shit, and - worst of all - to stick to it like burrs on a sheepdog. So she found a little hill away from the storm runoff and she built a shabby little shelter (too exhausted for the expert work of the first shelter, which, by the way, had mostly withstood the storm to this point, thank you very much). She failed to start a fire, which wasn't surprising, and the rain started up again before sunset, so she curled up on her "bed" of fronds and dreamed of chewing down a heart of palm or a snake or really anything at this point because fantasizing about grilled cheese and onion rings might actually be the one that would inspire her to tap out and run. 
For a few hours she faded in and out of sleep, disturbed by noise and pain and the shame of having treated Killian the way that she did. And had been this whole time. It wasn't his fault he was so damn attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was making her feel things she promised herself she would never again let herself feel. If only it was his toned abs and quite frankly impressive cock that had scrambled her brain the first day they met. No, the nudity wasn't really even a factor, since, you know, she kind of knew it was part of the deal. But she'd been expected an asshole. Or an idiot. Or someone that was just so platonic that they might as well have been a woman. Or a lamp. 
But he was kind and funny and caring and she just knew he had a backstory that could rival hers because faces like that - and bodies like that - absolutely did not build good character when adversity never struck. Nope, that man has suffered.
With all that suffering between them, how they hell did they end up - voluntarily - stranded in a jungle?
(We accept the love we think we deserve.)
Ugh. Now she was haunted by Pinterest memes. 
Protein. She needed some protein, like, now.
When the sun came up, her sole focus was on nutrition. She needed something to eat. Her emotions were running too high and emotional calories were definitely more draining than physical calories. Or something. How had all of her survival research and training just fall out of her head by Day 2? 
Because your brain needs sleep and nutrients to properly process and recall information.
(See, some of it hadn't left.)
Apparently her sense of balance had left, though, because without warning her ankle rolled to the side and Emma slid off the tree she'd been climbing and her body hit every limb on its way back to Earth. 
Well, shit, was the last thing she thought before she smacked into the rock below her, the warmth cascading down her torso the last feeling she had before her eyes slid shut.
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Keep Hope at Hand, Chapter Sixteen
a/n: this is a HUGE chapter, both length-wise and content-wise, so as a gift, I want to thank each and every one of you that have stuck with me this far for your time, plus those who have joined along the way. You have no idea what this means to me, and without this story and all of you lovely people, this semester probably would have been very different for me. 
Summary:  When a curse is going to send the inhabitants of Enchanted Forest, Captain Killian Jones, husband to the Princess, must take their daughter through the wardrobe to save them from the curse and give her the ability to break the curse when the time comes.
From the Beginning: tumblr // ao3
Previous Chapter: tumblr //  ao3
This chapter on AO3
The regular crew:  @shireness-says​​@wellhellotragic​​@flyflyangel​​@stahlop​​@superchocovian​​@kingofmyheart14​​@drkeldonmd​​@darkcolinodonorgasm​​@profdanglaisstuff​​@pirateherokillian​​@captainsjedi​​ @let-it-raines​​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @cocohook38​
The Jewel of the Realm rocks peacefully on the waters of Misthaven, her sails blowing softly in the warm breeze of the sea. The sun beats down from the clear sky, and there are seagulls perched on the sails of the ship.
All is quiet in the world.
Well, that’s not technically true: all is quiet in Killian’s world, though he knows that somewhere on the ship, the crew is rejoicing, but he fails to hear it. All he can hear is a deafening nothingness, an eerie, ear-piercing silence as he holds his brother in his arms. He knows there should be sounds: the waves crashing against the sides of the ship, footsteps from the crew on the deck above them, and the cheers - they made it out of Neverland, back to the Enchanted Forest, something none of them — especially not Killian himself — thought was going to happen after the chaos of their journey.
And maybe somewhere, in the very back of his mind, he does hear these things; but all he can focus on at the moment is Liam, unmoving in his arms, the only pillar of his life that he’s always known to be solid. All he has now is… nothing. No family, no possessions beyond the small trunk of clothing sitting at the edge of his bunk. He remembers the words he said to him just moments ago: “I would follow you to the ends of the earth, brother” - and it is true. Was true. He would have followed his brother to the very ends of the earth, through every kingdom and realm known to man and those unknown. He would have gone through hell for his brother — but sitting here, holding his lifeless body, is a hell worse than any he has ever imagined.
Because now, he has no one to follow, a fact that becomes exceptionally clear as he watches Liam’s body hit the water, the burial at sea that he always wanted - though not at so ripe an age.
When one of the crew hands the sextant to him — “This belongs to you now, Captain,” — he doesn’t know what to say. He never wanted to be captain, never wanted to be in charge of his own ship — all he ever wanted was to sail the seas with his brother.
And then, running his thumb over the patch attached to the sextant bag with his brother’s name — his name — he has an idea: he may no longer be able to sail the seas with his brother, but he can surely sail the seas for his brother.
Taking a moment to look out over the crew, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, hears it even over the sound of the waves against the hull of the ship. It is time to rally his crew.
“We are sworn to serve the king and the realm. They sent us to retrieve an unthinkable poison, one that killed our dear captain. Never again shall we take such orders, serving the king, fighting his wars. That is the way of dishonor! And all you who disagree flee now, or walk the bloody plank!” No one moves a muscle, other than to look around at the others, everyone staying true to their new captain. “For those who stay will be free men, and I will be your captain. We’ll sail under the crimson flag, and we’ll give our enemies no quarter. We’ll take what we please! And we’ll live by our own rules, for that is the best form of all!
“Our kingdom is corrupt and immoral. They took my brother from me,  and now I’m going to take everything they’ve got, starting with this ship! Bring the paint from below! It’s time we rename this vessel!” He points to a crewman, who immediately goes to follow his orders. “We no longer sail as The Jewel of the Realm , we now sail as the Jolly Roger !” Now he is truly enraged, and removes the jacket of his officer’s uniform, tossing it overboard and into the waters of the corrupt realm, following the body of his lost brother. “When they come for us, I want them to know exactly what we are — pirates! For at least among thieves, there is honor!”
His crew begins to cheer, then chant his name: “Captain Jones! Captain Jones!”
Adrenaline rushes through him, and he clenches his jaw. He may have lost a brother, but he has gained a crew, a crew that has decided to stay true to him, even after he turns against the corrupt King.
But as the newly-renamed Jolly Roger sails back towards the sea port owned by their corrupt king, a dark shadow of a man dives into the ocean behind them, not far from the burial at sea that just took place on the deck of the ship. The shadow, backed with the strongest forms of dark magic in the universe, pulls the still-sinking body of Liam Jones from the water as it flies back towards the horizon, disappearing in the sky just as the stars begin to twinkle.
When��it sets it's feet down on the ground, it's owner smiles devilishly, hands on his hips.
“Good job, shadow!” he cheers, and the group of boys gathered behind him join in the cheer. “Now, all it should take is…” His words trail off as he pulls the canteen out from under his belt, popping off the cork and kneeling down to pour some into the man’s mouth, the other hand moving in slow circles over his chest.
Expectantly, he leans back, his eyes glued to the man’s chest, which should start moving at any moment.
Except, it doesn’t. 
“Tinkerbell!” he yells, jumping to his feet, and a woman  — the first woman to ever be on the island — pushes through the line of boys, her arms crossed over her chest. “You said this would work!”
She rolls her eyes at him, and he sneers at her. “I said it might work, Pan. Bringing people back from the dead isn’t the easiest thing.”
Suddenly, a cloud of smoke appears behind them, and each of the boys draws their weapons as a face appears out of the smoke.
“Good thing that I know how to help you!”
“We don’t want help from you, Dark One!” Tinkerbell yells, but Pan’s eyes just go wide as he stays silent. “Why would you want to help us anyway?”
The Dark One begins pacing in front of them, wringing his hands behind his back. “There will come a time when I will come to you with a favor regarding this man in particular, and his dear younger brother, whose face will become one that you all know very well. And because I have helped you resuscitate him, you will owe me that favor. Without me, this man will never come back to life and you will never be able to do… well, whatever you’re bringing him back to life to do.”
“We would never accept help from you,” Tinkerbell yells, but Pan holds up his hand, staring down the man in front of him.
“Yes, okay,” he says, and Tinkerbell’s eyes widen in disbelief as the Dark One smiles. “I accept your help, Dark One. What do I need to do to bring Captain Jones back from the dead?”
“Hand me your canteen,” he commands, pulling a vile of sparkling black liquid out of the satchel around his waist, which he pours into the container before handing it back to Pan. “Now do as the fairy told you to.”
Pan stares up at the Dark One for a moment before pouring the liquid carefully into the sailor’s mouth, his hand moving in slow circles over his chest.
Nothing happens.
Then the Dark One snaps his fingers, and Liam Jones comes back to life.
— — / — —
Baelfire pushes through the line of trees in front of him, slowing only when his feet reach the sand of the beach. He finds the ship on the horizon, right where he knew it would be — right where it always is. He is the first of the party to make it to the beach, so he sits in the sand, his fingers digging holes into it at his side.
They meet under the cover of darkness, Bae begging to universe, the gods of fate, whoever — if anyone — is watching over him to let him get away without Pan’s knowledge, or at least without Pan's intervention.
Which is difficult on an island that Pan controls.
So much has happened since what must has been months ago, when he decided he needed to leave Neverland before Pan tried to kill him.
Again.
Tried to kill him again.
As always when he sees the Jolly Roger swaying peacefully in the waters of Neverland, he wants to be angry, but is instead just sad. When he found himself on Killian’s ship all those years ago, he really thought the man had come to care for him. Even if he was the man that tore his family apart, that took his mother and killed her when she tried to leave, he thought maybe the pirate still had a heart. But he has been here for dozens of years, and the damned pirate had never even tried to help him. He knows the Jolly can travel realms, and escaping would be that much easier if Killian wanted to help him.
But he doesn’t. Tink must have shared their plan with him by now, knows that she spends time with the pirate. The man just doesn’t care, which shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does.
Shouldn’t hurt him as much as it does.
Tinkerbell and Wendy push through the treeline, and Bae snaps his head towards the sound, thankful that it is his friends and not any of his enemies.
“Do we have enough?” he whispers, still trying to get used to the way his voice has dropped in the past few weeks. After being fourteen for so long, the magic that keeps time from passing in Neverland has stopped working for him, and he has grown a few inches, started to find some peach fuzz covering his face, and, of course, his voice.
It turns out that when you stop calling Neverland home, when you long to leave the island and live somewhere else, Neverland stops being your home. For this, Bae is almost thankful, save the fact that it’s been terrifically difficult to hide from Pan.
Tinkerbell reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a small jar filled with glittering powder, her fingers gripped tightly around the glass. “I collected as much as I could find without him getting suspicious.”
“But is it enough?” Wendy asks.
“I…” she starts, then presses her lips into a tight line. “I honestly have no clue. No one has ever tried to use fairy dust to leave Neverland before.”
Bae nods, reaching out to slide the jar from Tink’s grasp.
“Thank you, Tink,” he says softly, and instead of taking the jar from her, he pulls her in for a hug, his rapid growth more obvious now as he stands a few inches taller than she does. “You risked everything for this, for a whim. And one day, I will come back and take you away from this wicked place as a thank you.”
“Just get off the island for now, Baelfire,” Tink responds, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“Go somewhere he can never find you,” Wendy whispers in his ear when he moves to hug her. “Stay safe.”
“Thank you, Wendy,” he whispers back, pulling away from her just enough to look into her eyes. “In another life, things would have been different between us.”
“Perhaps, but we will never get the chance to find out.”
“Please come with me,” he pleads, for what must be the hundredth time.
“You know I cannot, Bae. Who knows what he could do to my family if I left here.”
Bae has so much more he wants to say, since the two standing in front of him are the only friends he has ever had  — but a rustle in the bushes behind them replaces all of these thoughts with terror instead, and he pulls the jar from Tink’s hand, quickly unscrewing the lid and pouring the contents of it over him.
“Go, Bae!” Tink yells. “Close your eyes and think of where you want to go.”
“Be safe, Baelfire!” Wendy calls as his feet leave the ground just as Pan pushes out of the clearing, his shadow and the other that follows his commands already flying after the boy.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t know what you’ve been up to?” Pan asks, his voice a low growl, and both Tink and Wendy take a step away from him. “You’ll pay for this, you know.”
High in the air above them, Bae screams as one of the shadows takes a hold of his ankle and the other his arm, but they do not stop moving. A smile spreads across Pan’s evil features, but it fades away when Bae disappears from the sky, replaced with a momentary sparkle before the sky grows dark again.
“It worked,” Tinkerbell breathes, a smile taking over her face, and when she turns to Wendy, she finds that the girl has a smile of her own.
“Son of a bitch!” Pan yells, his shadow and the shadow of the young Captain moving back towards him, and he turns towards the girls, pointing his finger in their faces. “This isn’t over. This is far from over.”
  When Bae’s feet hit the ground, his whole body crumbles. Every inch of him hurts, his face and his legs badly bleeding, his arm most likely broken, and his head pounding.
Thankfully, he is not alone. “Baelfire?” a voice asks from behind him, the crippled man moving as quickly as he can towards the body that he somehow knows is his son even though he hasn’t seen him for decades, though he has aged about ten years since the fairy dust swept his feet off the Neverland beach.
“Papa?” Bae whispers, barely strong enough to speak, and when Rumple finally reaches his body, he barely has the energy to smile at the one man he has wanted to see for far too long. “Please, help me.”
“I — I don’t know how,” he chokes out, trying to stop the sob that comes tearing through his chest.
“You idiot,” a voice in his head that is not his own retorts. “You know exactly how to save him, but you’re nothing but a coward.”
He shakes his head as tears begin to stream down his face. “I — I can’t!” he responds out loud, but Bae has lost his consciousness, so no one hears him anyway.
“You must,” the voice responds. “You must, or you will lose your son.”
“I can’t lose you, Bae,” he sobs, flicking his hand through the air, and a dagger appears. “And if this is what I have to do to keep you at my side, then I will do it.” He holds the dagger over Bae’s chest, which is barely moving anymore. “Baelfire, I make you the Dark One, I transfer the Darkness from me to you.”
A blinding flash of light radiates from the dagger, and Rumple drops it on his son’s chest, knocked back by the force of the blast.
Momentarily paralyzed, Rumple watches as Baelfire sits up, an evil smile spread across his face. “Thank you, papa,” he growls, taking the dagger in his hand and disappearing in a cloud of grey smoke.
— — / — —
“Rumple!” Her voice travels through the house, but no one hears her. “Rumplestiltskin!”
Finally, the man in question opens the door to the library, and when Regina realizes that he is carrying a pile of laundry, her eyes go wide, a confused smile spreading across her features.
“What a sight,” she comments, gesturing towards her. “The Dark One fulfilling his domestic duties.”
Rumple opens his mouth to speak, but Bae appears behind them before he can say anything, a piece of parchment in his hands and his boots resting on the edge of the table. “That's because he's not the Dark One anymore,” he quips, failing to raise his attention from the parchment in front of him.
“Excuse me?”
“He's no longer the Dark One,” he says again, slowing down his words as if that were the issue, and then raises his eyes to meet hers. “I am.”
Regina crosses her arms over her chest. “And who are you, exactly?”
“Baelfire,” he replies, and Regina turns on her heels to face Rumple again.
“Baelfire, as in your son? The one you became the Dark One to save?”
Once again, Rumple opens his mouth to speak, but Bae's words come first.
“It turns out that the way he was to save me was by making me the Dark One after the shadow of Peter Pan and that naval captain he brought back from the dead almost tore me apart as I was trying to escape Neverland.”
Regina blinks at him a few times before shaking her head. “There's a lot to unpack there, and I don't really have time to go through it all. But if you're the Dark One now and not your father, I suppose that means I now need your help and not his.”
“Why should I help you? My father offered his services because he thought he would find me in this Land Without Magic your curse would take everyone to. Since I am obviously not there, we no longer have a need for your curse.”
Regina's eyes go wide, and she takes a few steps towards Bae, seated at the table, leaning forward against the chair beside him. There's not anything you want?” she purrs, smiling at him. “If you help me in the same way your father was going to, you can write whatever you want in the curse. Tell me, Baelfire, what do you want most in the world?”
There is not even a moment's hesitation before the words fall from his lips. “Vengeance. Revenge against Killian Jones, the man who killed my mother and tore my family apart.”
After widening with an idea, Regina's eyes sparkle as she turns to the shelf behind Bae, her slender fingers moving across the items she finds there until they finally reach the one she is looking for: a small handheld mirror that she runs her hand over before smiling down at it and handing it to Baelfire, whose eyes grow wide with a devious grin when he sees what she is showing him.
“You mean Captain Killian Jones, betrothed to the Princess of Misthaven? Marrying the daughter of the very people whose lives my curse is written to destroy?”
Bae finally tears his eyes from the mirror, the image of a proper-looking Killian Jones — no doubt the same man he met years ago, since he looks exactly the same — with the arm that ends in a hook wrapped around the shoulders of a beautiful blonde woman and his hand holding a glittering chalice as they talk to the people gathered around them. He smiles up at Regina.
“How, exactly, can I be of assistance?”
--/--
At first, he swears it must be a dream. Another dream, like the ones that have filled his mind since he slipped into unconsciousness in that alley. Or perhaps it is instead the entrance to whatever afterlife the world has planned for him. The last thing he expects it to be is reality, because it is the last thing he deserves after everything he has done.
But when he begins to move, tries to reach his hand out and is instead met with searing flames of pain across his body, he decides that either he has instead descended into hell, or is somehow still alive after everything that happened with Neal in that alleyway.
He almost hopes it is the first option.
Until she stirs, realizing what is happening in front of her before reaching out the hand that she must forget is wrapped around the chain in her hands to press it against his chest. Even hell would not be this cruel to him, using the perfect morning sun coming through the curtains to light up his wife’s peaceful face.
“Jesus, Killian, don’t try to move,” she whispers, and if the incessant beeping coming from the machines around him weren’t already making it obvious, he can swear that his heart is pounding hard enough for her to feel it with the hand still resting on his chest.
“I’ve worked that much out on my own,” he croaks out, his voice sounding nowhere near as smooth as he hoped it would, and the laugh that escapes his chest at this sends tremors of pain through his whole body.
“What do you remember?” she asks, her voice soft and soothing and everything he’s been too afraid to think of her as since he left her behind and went through the wardrobe.
He closes his eyes, focused on the beating of his heart and the warmth radiating from her hand resting right above it.
“Neal,” he tries, but it comes out as a whisper. Taking a deep breath, he swallows slowly, then tries again. “He’s — he’s more dangerous than you ever could have known, love. He wants to kill me, to kill my girl, and now that he has his powers back, he’ll be even harder to stop.”
He hears Emma suck in a breath beside him, and he opens his eyes to look at her. Her gaze has fallen to the bed, and when her hand starts to slowly fall from his chest to meet her other resting on the mattress beside him, he stops it with his hand, wrapping the chain around some of his fingers.
“His… powers.”
It is not until she speaks these words that he remembers how much she is unaware of, and he tightens his fingers around her hand, opening his mouth to speak but realizing he does not have the words.
“You mean, like, the disappearing thing?” she asks in the silence, and though her eyes are still avoiding his gaze, he watches as she pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth, slipping her hand out from under his so she can run both of them through her hair.
“Aye,” he whispers. “That’s just the beginning.”
“And he’s working with Regina.”
“He told me that, too.” Finally, she raises her gaze and finds his again. “He monologued a bit before he stabbed me,” he says, then attempts to laugh again before the pain becomes so strong all he can do is wince.
“Be careful, you have a few broken ribs, and a large laceration.”
“That must be why it hurts when I laugh.”
“You’re lucky you’re not dead, Killian,” she says, her voice more sincere than he was prepared for.
“I’m a survivor,” he comments, trying not to reveal just how much the fact that she cares gets to him, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming wave of pure adoration that rolls through him when she speaks again, so softly that he almost did not hear it over all of the machines running around him.
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Thank you, Emma.”
A moment passes between them, Killian’s focus on the emotions crossing her face as her eyes search the room to look at anything besides him.
“Can I—” he starts, and he can barely meet her eyes before they’ve darted away from him again. When he reaches out to place one of his hands on top of hers, resting against the edge of the mattress, though, she keeps his gaze. “Why are you here, Emma?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a long breath. When she tears her eyes from his this time, they turn down to where their hands are joined, his thumb moving slowly across the soft skin on the back of her hand. How does she tell him everything going through her mind, when it all seems so insane?
But everything that’s happened over the past few weeks is so insane anyway, so the least she can do is attempt the truth.
“Everything else in my life is falling to pieces, and even though I’ve only known you for a few weeks, you seem to be the one constant that holds everything together.”
He does not know how to respond, wants in this moment to tell her the truth more than ever before, so instead, he pulls her hand to his lips, and as he kisses the edge of her knuckles, she sees a flash of a memory in her mind — or a flash of something, because it certainly cannot be a memory, can it?
How can she have a memory of the man before her, years younger, wearing the oddest outfit she has ever seen — is that leather? — a smile on his face with one hand on his sword and the other — no, not another, there’s something in place of it — on the railing of the Jolly Roger, wearing the largest smile she has ever seen as he leans down to kiss her.
What the actual fuck?
But, as quick as it came, it’s gone again.
Killian must see something change on her face as the vision fades, as she pulls her hand back from his grip.
“Emma, love, is something the matter?” he asks, his voice caring and sincere and things that it certainly cannot be in this moment.
“I can’t — I have to go.”
She jumps to her feet, the chair sliding against the floor as it moves away from the bed, but Killian reaches out to stop her, his hand wrapping around her wrist.
“Please, love, don't—” he says, but she pulls free of his grasp, staring down at him for a moment before quickly leaning to press a soft kiss against his cheek and —
Wrong move.
This certainly can’t be a memory: Killian is there again, wearing the same leather jacket from before, but this time he’s in the middle of a bright room, surrounded by flowers and people and music and she is —
A wedding ceremony.
“Emma?” he asks softly, pulling her back to reality, but she is even more terrified of whatever is happening to her, frozen with fear and curiosity and something much deeper that she’s too afraid to try to give a word to.
She leans forward against the bed, steadying herself against the mattress, and it’s all she can do to not fall to the floor. And then there is something else, Killian’s hand resting against her arm, his bright eyes still staring up at her, trying to decipher exactly what is happening, except her head is spinning and traveling in a million different directions at a time, because none of that can be real, it’s absolutely impossible, she knows what’s real and what’s not, and she’s only known Killian for a few weeks, so none of it can be anything other than… visions.
In her heart, she knows this is a lie, and this scares her more than anything else.
“I can’t deal with this,” she says, and though every muscle in her body is screaming for her to leave, she still finds herself completely frozen in place. “I can’t do this to a man who has a family and a — a wife that he’s trying to find to get his family back together, trying to raise his daughter —”
“Emma,” he says again, and all she can do is look down at him as he stares at her with the most intense expression she has ever seen — but she feels like she has seen it before. “Trust me, love,” he whispers, then reaches up to press his hand against her cheek.
She doesn’t know what this is supposed to mean, but she finds herself unable to fight him, unable to do anything besides trust him, as he wipes away the tear that is falling on her cheek before leading her face down towards his so he can press a soft kiss against her lips.
No, no, no, this is wrong , she tells herself. He has a family, has someone he loves, I can’t—
Suddenly, everything is flooded with a bright flash of light, her entire body growing warm for just a moment, and it disappears just as quickly. When it clears, Emma is still right there, inches away from his face, her eyes wide.
But something is different.
Everything is different, and the brightness in her eyes that was missing just moments before is restored.
“Killian,” she breathes, smiling as she finds his lips with hers again, her hands moving to cup his face. “Thank god, Killian.”
“I had no idea if that was going to work,” he comments, trying to laugh again, and somehow it seems to hurt less than it did before. “Bloody hell, did I need it to work, though.”
“You did it, Killian,” she says, kissing him one more time before sitting back in the chair, one hand still pressed against his cheek while he laces his fingers through the other. “You broke the curse.”
When David pushes through the doors a few moments later, they both turn in anticipation of the same excitement they share.
But it does not come.
“How do you feel, Mr. Jones?” he asks, showing no sign that anything has changed.
“I’m alive, at least,” Killian manages, trying to keep his confusion off his face. “Any updates on Neal?”
“We’re still searching for him,” is all David has to say, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he stops to stand behind Emma. “Though it’s increasingly difficult to catch a man who can disappear into a cloud of smoke.”
“You’ll keep me updated, though?” Emma asks, turning around to face him.
“Of course.”
A beat passes, none of them sure of what else to say.
“I’m going to go find your doctor, Jones,” David says finally. “And I’ll send the rest of the crew in.” Smiling at them, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room, only to be replaced by Henry and Hope.
As soon as David is out of earshot, Emma jumps up out of her seat to wrap her arms around Hope, pulling Henry in after a moment.
“My sweet girl,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Does this mean—” Henry starts, but Emma’s nod, and then Killian’s when he turns his attention to the bed, is enough of an answer for him.
“We broke the curse, lad.”
A smile breaks out across Henry’s face, then Hope’s, but it does not last very long. In just moments, it has disappeared from the younger boy’s, turning instead to a worried, and very confused, knit of his brows.
Emma realizes how much this look resembles the same look on his father — his real father— and her heart soars.
“But then why didn’t David act any differently towards us?”
“If the curse was broken, wouldn’t he know that he’s our grandpa?” Hope asks, her own look of worry spread across her face.
“It’s only been a few moments since it happened, darlings,” Killian explains, and Emma leads them all over to his bedside. “We’re still trying to work out the details of it all.”
“But you’re right,” Emma adds, when none of the worry drains from the looks of her children.
Her children.
“If we really broke the curse, the whole curse, my father wouldn’t hide it from us.”
“But then what are we going to do?” Hope turns her bright blue eyes up towards her parents, full of more worry than a twelve year old should be able to understand.
Neither Emma or Killian know what to say to calm her nerves. “Come here, my cygnet," Killian says, opening his arms to allow the little girl to crawl up the bed and rest her head against his chest, trying to hide his wince when the pressure she puts against his ribs causes him pain.
“We need to find out how to break the curse,” Henry says, and for the first time in what actually feels like forever to a man who has been alive for centuries, when Emma pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth, Killian reaches out to set his hand on her leg, finally able to comfort her.
“We need to talk to Jefferson,” Killian replies, Hope nodding in agreement against his chest as the other two sets of eyes turn towards him, full of confusion.
“Jefferson?” Emma asks, and Henry adds, “Like Grace's dad Jefferson?”
“Aye, he's not cursed. He traveled here not long after it was cast to collect information on it and try to learn how to break it.”
“Then I guess I'll give him a call,” Emma replies, still a bit awestruck as she moves to stand, but the weight of Killian's hand on her leg keeps her where she is. “Who else knows?”
“Well, the four of us in this room, Jeff and Grace, and Regina and the Dark One. Neal. Baelfire. Whoever he is in this world."
“Wait.” For a moment, her body is stuck, completely frozen, overwhelmed by what Killian has just revealed to her. “Neal is the Dark One? I thought Rumple was the Dark One?”
“As did I, but when he was monologuing to me as he tried to kill me in that alleyway, he revealed otherwise. Turns out when he escaped Neverland, around the same time you and I met, he was almost killed by Pan's magic, by Pan's shadow, so to save his life, Rumple was forced to transfer the Darkness to him, making him the Dark One.”
Emma takes a few moments to think over this revelation, nodding slowly. “So when Rumple helped us find the kids when Neal took them…”
“Turns out he was actually trying to be helpful, aye.”
“Maybe the man has a heart anyway.”
“That seems a little drastic, don't you think, mom?” Hope asks, turning her head away from Killian's chest to look at Emma.
Emma smiles down at her, running her fingers through he blonde curls. “You've been waiting for quite a while to call me that, haven't you, Hope?”
The little girl nods, and Emma turns her eyes up to her husband, her memories slowly coming back to her. “So you went with Hope, huh?” she asks, Hope slightly confused, but Killian just smiles when he realizes what she means. “I think it's perfect. You named her for a prophecy about herself.”
Killian wants to pull her lips down to his, wants to give her every kiss he has missed for the last twelve years, but has no choice but to pull away from her when David comes back around the corner, his eyes widening a bit in surprise at the four of them, all crowded onto the small hospital bed.
“Dr. Whale wants to keep you for a few more days to make sure your healing goes as planned, so because we haven't yet caught Neal Gold, I'd like to continue to have police protection watching over you. I can call Graham to relieve you, if you want, Emma?”
“No!” she says perhaps a bit too quickly — and definitely too enthusiastically, given the look that covers David's face. “I'd, uh, I'd like to stay here with him,” she tries again, reddening just a touch.
“Yeah, okay,” David responds, running his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Of course, that's fine.” He lets out a deep breath, trying to keep the smile off of his face as he changes the subject. “Do you want us to go get breakfast from somewhere? I don't want to make either of you eat hospital food if you don't have to.”
“Thank you, Dave,” Killian responds. “I know it's early still, but I would, uh — I'd really like a cheeseburger, if that's okay?
David smiles, shaking his head. “Of course I can get you a cheeseburger, Mr. Jones. And for you, Emma? Your usual?”
Emma just nods before wrapping her arm around Henry's shoulder. “You guys go with David, okay? Killian and I will be here when you get back.”
“Okay, mom!” he replies, hopping down off the bed, closely followed by Hope.
“Thank you, David,” Emma mumbles, catching herself before accidentally calling him “dad” — which is a very odd feeling, having a family after believing for so long that all she was was alone.
As soon as David closes the door behind him and the two kids, Emma turns on the mattress, re-situating herself so she is laying next to him, her arm wrapped around his shoulders so he can rest his head against her chest.
For a few minutes, they are silent, simply happy to be back together in the way they were destined to be, Emma carding her fingers mindlessly through his hair.
Finally, Killian is the one to break the silence. “Gods, love, I missed you so damn much,” he whispers, pressing his lips against her collarbone, her neck, her shoulder. “Every day I had to live without you felt like an entire lifetime.”
Emma laughs, a light giggle that might be the greatest sound Killian has heard in twelve years. “That's saying a lot for a man who's lived a few hundred years.”
“I'm serious, Emma,” he replies, his whole face holding the same sincerity as his voice.
“I know.”
He has so much more he wants to tell her, to apologize to her for, but instead of trying to piece the words together, he finds his lips with hers, putting all of the words into the slide of his tongue against hers.
“I love you,” she breathes, pulling away just far enough to say the words against his smile.
“And I you."
They allow the silence to overtake them once more for a few more minutes.
“We should move to a less confusing position for when David comes back with food,” Killian whispers, and Emma nods, her forehead knocking softly against his.
“And call Jefferson, apparently.”
“Aye, yes, love, that, too.”
When David does arrive back, Emma has returned to the chair beside the bed, a notepad spread out in front of her as they try to work out everything they know so far about the curse — though when David comes through the doors, Emma flips to the page before it, where they have started to write all the information they could think of about Neal, which would make more sense to everyone who still has cursed memories.
Lunch passes quickly in the hospital room, Killian practically inhaling his burger while Emma barely picks at her bear claw, and David is trying to find the politest way to excuse himself when Killian yawns just as one of the nurses enters the room.
“I think we should let Mr. Jones get some rest so he can heal better, don't you think?” David asks, smiling at the nurse, who nods in agreement.
“I would like to check on his wounds anyways, so I'm going to have to ask you all to leave the room.”
Hope turns to hug her father before hopping down off the side of the bed, and Henry flashes him a sad smile, wishing he could do the same.
“Keep me updated, Emma,” David commands gruffly as the nurse leads them out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“You know it.”
With another clap on the back from David, plus a hug from both Henry and Hope (the second leaving tears in her eyes), the three of them head down the hallway, leaving Emma behind to watch them until they turn the corner to the elevator.
After a moment, her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket, and she pulls it out to reveal an incoming call from Jefferson.
“Emma!” he cries as soon as she answers the phone. “Is everything alright?”
“Killian's getting his bandages changed, so he's not available at this exact moment but I —” Just thinking of the fact that she can reveal this to someone, that she even knows what it means, pulls a smile across her lips. “I have my memories back. True Loves Kiss worked, but it only worked for me. We have no idea why, and we're trying to figure out where to go from here.”
“That's… That's certainly interesting, Emma. I'm glad you have your memories back, of course, but this just makes the curse that much harder to break now.”
“Any ideas?”
She can almost see the way he furiously shakes his head at her question. “I'll look through my books and see if I can discover anything else.”
“Thanks, Jeff. And be safe out there, we still don't know where Neal went.”
“Thanks for the warning. I'll let you know when I find anything.”
As she slides her phone back into her back pocket, the nurse opens the door behind her, and Emma turns towards the noise.
“How is he?”
“His wounds are much better than we thought they would be when he came in. His broken ribs are going to take a while to heal, and the scarring along his ribs may never disappear. But he's alive, and in a much better state than we anticipated.” The smile the nurse shares with her is genuine, and she tries to place this woman's face from the Enchanted Forest — Dorothy. She wonders if they had ever met, if she had ever even seen her before.
“Thank you, Miss Gale,” Emma replies, needing to stop staring at her before suspicions arose — and needing to get back to her healing husband. “I appreciate all the work you've done.”
The nurse walks away after flashing another small smile at Emma, so she returns to the chair next to Killian's bed. “I talked to Jeff on the phone, he's seeing what he can find about the curse now that I have my memories back, or if anything of his has changed.”
“That's good,” he says, his voice soft, and though he tries to hide his exhaustion, he fails miserably.
“I should let you get some rest.”
“Please, stay here,” he whispers, reaching out to cover her hand with his.
“I'm not going anywhere, Killian,” she responds, leaning forward to press her lips against his cheek. “Never again. I promise.”
But he is already asleep.
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40sbarnes · 4 years
Text
Medici: Spymasters of Florence
Chapter 13: A Flicker of Melted Ice
okay just letting you all know i have this story planned for 20 chapters and it should still fit into that... sorry it’s super long!! i do appreciate you guys still sticking around <3 
also a special appreciation to @nana035 who has been so so kind and supportive from the very start!! i appreciate your comments and asks so much <3333
tag list; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer @unstoppable-xavi
pairings; slow slowburn lorenzo x reader, platonic francesco x reader
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Hundreds of voices spoke over each other, all droning into one loud chatter as it reached your ears. You had successfully made your way into the banquette. Lorenzo had entered separately earlier, of course, to avoid suspicion, trusting you to snake your own way in. Which you had. You stood at the end of the hall, taking in the scene before you. You were now dawned in your new dress, which forced your posture that slight bit taller. Between you and Lorenzo fussing, you had figured your hair into a resemblance of how you'd seen noble women wear it. Still, you felt a little out of your depths. You had performed similar missions for Pazzi before, he claimed it as one of the advantages of having a woman work for him, but those had been in Florence. Sure, Venice wasn't all so different, but you weren't granted the same knowledge Lorenzo's schooling as a child had given him. You knew little of the place, or the people there either.
It was certainly an unsettling feeling, not having the secrets of the guests stored away, as if they were weapons themselves. Of course, you still had your actual weapons, but a nonviolent route was always preferred. You never appreciated the sensation of Lorenzo being better equipped than you, but as you scanned the crowd, and you found him entertaining a group as they threw their heads back in laughter, you were forced to endure it. His eyes fell on yours for a second, his lips twitching further into the smirk already sitting on his face, you shot him the tiniest of smiles before looking away, in fear someone would notice. 
And then, you began to work. Making your way around the hall, eavesdropping on the finest of the Venetian population. Most of it was beyond boring, rich people droning on about rich people things. Some of it was juicy, but nothing of real substance, nothing that could help Lorenzo until…, you over heard the name 'Jacopo Pazzi' fall from someone's lips, and you made your way closer. They were discussing exactly what you'd hoped.
"Well he promised Vitelli a percentage of the trade through Bologna when they cease trade with Milan," one of the men spoke.
"How can Pazzi promise such a thing? Isn't Medici pushing for a treaty with Milan currently?" They lowered their voices as they continued, clearly aware the man they spoke of was in attendance.
"It won't pass. Not after his sister disgraced Soderini and his son. They needed his vote," the men sounded far too smug for your liking.
"A Pazzi in charge of Florence? I never thought I'd see the day," they all chuckled, and you had to stop yourself from joining in. They wouldn't see that day. Not if you could help it.
Parting from the groups of people standing around, you searched the room for Lorenzo once again. You eventually located him, on the dance floor, engaging in the routine everyone magically seemed to know. You assumed it to be taught in their schooling, and you imagined a young Lorenzo tripping over his feet. You forced the smile off your face, surveying not only Lorenzo but the people surrounding him, the dance seemed repetitive enough, and if you joined it would be an inconspicuous way to discuss your new found information with him.
Edging closer to the dance floor, you continued to watch Lorenzo, as he switched partners to a beautiful young woman. She whispered something in his ear, and a grin fell onto his lips. You felt your heart twinge slightly, but forced the feeling away as you tried to keep a straight face.
"Not enjoying the banquet?" To your shock, Vitelli had appeared at your side. You immediately bowed your head.
"No, Messer, the banquet is wonderful. Your grandson even more so," you congratulated him, hoping he wasn't offended.
"A heavy boy he is as well," he chuckled, and you eased up slightly, seeing his light humour.
"That is what they're saying," you grinned, your eyes not listening to your better judgement and falling on Lorenzo where he was still enjoying himself.
"Madonna..." he trailed off, not knowing your name.
"Cellini," you finished for him, "Anastasia Cellini."
"Well, Madonna Cellini, how long are you planning on watching the festivities before joining in?" His question caught you off guard.
Your eyes locked on his, before quickly shifting to the floor beneath you. "Me? No... I couldn't," you shook your head, playing up the modest act you knew noble women to put on.
"Why ever not?"
"I have two left feet," you chuckled, holding your hands together in front of you.
"Luckily for you, I have two right," you spun to the sound of the voice, to see one of the men who had been discussing Lorenzo earlier standing behind you.
"Cousin!" Vitelli embraced the man, they must've been second cousins or something of the matter, as the man didn't seem many years your senior.
"Madonna Cellini, this is my cousin, Porziano Lisi," Vitelli introduced you too, and you curtseyed before him, but he took your hand into his, placing a kiss on your knuckles.
"My pleasure," he lowered your hand, although not quite letting go of it. You felt eyes on you, but you didn't dare look for the owner. "Well, shall we?" He offered, strolling backwards to lead you to the floor as the band came to the end of the song.
"Enjoy!" Vitelli laughed, before spinning around to the people waiting to congratulate him.
"I was not spinning a tale when I said I do not have an aptitude for dancing," you warned him, as he positioned you in line with the rest of the dancers, readying themselves for the next song. You glanced over your shoulder to see Lorenzo staring at you, not seeming amused. You turned back to your partner, Lorenzo wasn't far behind, and it wouldn't take long to get to him.
"I find that hard to believe, a woman of your grace," Lisi grinned down at you, you mustered a smile back, as the gentle strumming of the bands instruments began to fill the hall once again.
In fairness to your partner, he lead you in the dance with little trouble, and when it came time to swap partners, you found yourself facing Lorenzo already. You don't know how he managed it, but you were grateful. He was more than enough to satisfy your quota for dealing with rich men.
"I didn't realise we were here to enjoy ourselves, Bellondini," Lorenzo smiled, his hand mirroring yours, as you began the movements of the dance.
"That's amusing coming from you," you bit back laughter, "but I certainly am not. I've been busy," you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face him, continuing the dance, although you were notably close. Lorenzo mimicked you, his own brows lifting, asking a question he didn't say aloud.
"Pazzi promised Vitelli profits of trade he has set up with Bologna when Milan falls through," you informed him of your findings.
Lorenzo scrunched his nose in frustration, glancing away for a moment, "Well..." he sounded defeated.
"No, not well, Pazzi can't promise that. Not with your Milan treaty," you reminded him, confused as to why he seemed so pessimistic.
"I don't know if there will be a treaty. Not without Soderini's vote," Lorenzo sighed, as he lifted his arm to twirl you underneath. "And now that my sister won't marry his son, I fear I will no longer have it"
"Don't you have someone other than Bianca you can sell off to Bastiano?" You teased, Lorenzo sharing a smug look with you.
"His heart was set on her," his face suddenly fell serious.
"So melt it, and reset it," your faces were but inches from each other. Lorenzo let out a chuckle at your words.
"I'm sure you know all about melting hearts," his thumb brushed the back of your hand, "but reset on who? Are you offering?" You scoffed at his words, making his grin wider. "Oh, come on, surely a marriage to a wealthy man is your dream. Then you could legally steal from him," he bartered, just mocking you at this point.
"I can assure you I do not spend my nights dreaming of marrying Bastiano Soderini," you smirked up at him.
"No?" He questioned, his breath warm on your skin.
"No," you replied simply.
Lorenzo grinned, his eyes locked on your own, "Then who?"
You took in a breath at his words, not having a witty reply. Lorenzo took a step forward, you hadn't even realised you would be changing partners, but you soon fell into step with the man now standing beside you. Lorenzo stole one last glance as he peered back over his shoulder, before focusing back on the dance.
At the next swap, Lorenzo excused himself, and you carefully watched, as he greeted Vitelli, and they left the hall soon after. He must've come up with something, as he always does. You waited a song or two more before leaving, muttering about how you were parched, and heading to one of the tables full of food. You poured yourself a drink, keeping up the excuse. When you were sure no one was looking, you slipped two drops of the poison into your drink, swirling it slightly with your finger before taking a sip. You had been upping your dose slowly, and felt barely anything at a double dose anymore. It gave you a strange sense of accomplishment, pouring the liquid down your throat that could quite literally kill anyone else in the room.
You remained at the table, unsure of what the next move was. You assumed Lorenzo would ensure Vitelli's vote soon enough, it was probably time for you to exit soon. Your eyes fell on the man of the evening himself as he re-entered the hall, although he did not seem a joyful as you would have hoped.
Vitelli soon joined you at the table, pouring himself a drink just as you had, notably without your secret ingredient. His eyes shot across the table of delicacies, before he moved for the gelato, now somewhat melted, and began scooping it into a bowl. He didn't even seem to notice your presence, he was so caught up in himself.
You took a step closer to him. "Not enjoying the banquet?" You teased, and his eyes fell on you. He quickly tried to shed his anxious exterior, although it wasn't too effective, he shot you a smile.
"We meet again, Madonna," he raised his glass to yours before taking a large swig, “have you tried the gelato?” he continued smiling anxiously, eating a scoop of it.
"Is everything alright, Messer?" You furrowed your brows, lowering your voice slightly so only he could hear you.
"I feel as though I have been split in two," he was no longer looking at you, instead his focus was on the man who had given him all this stress. Lorenzo was making his way throughout the banquet again, although now he seemed to be saying his goodbyes.
You pitied Vitelli, "I'm familiar with the feeling," you hummer. All too familiar.
"I shouldn't burden you with my problems, I apologise," he turned back to you.
"Do not worry for me, Messer, I enjoy being of assistance," when you got paid for it.
"Well, it is like this. I was certain about something, it seemed to be the best option. But now I feel torn. Maybe it wasn't as simple as I had imagined, as I had hoped," he watched the content of his cup as he swirled it with a flick of his wrist. "I do not know what the right choice is," he glanced back to you, searching your eyes as if they would give him the answer. You sympathised with him, having had this internal struggle since you'd first began working for Lorenzo.
"But you do know," you told him. As did you.
"Pardon?" He was confused, rightfully so.
"You do know what is right. Your heart knows," your eyes found Lorenzo's, he turned away as they did, exiting the banquet.
Vitelli seemed deep in contemplation at his words. "You've always known," you told him.
He nodded slowly, accepting your words. "I suppose I have," a hint of a grin fell on his features, "what helpful advice on a matter I have told you nothing of," he laughed, the stress fading away.
"I will not push any boundaries and dare ask," you began, Vitelli cutting you off.
"It is a Florentine matter. I suppose it would hold no importance to you even if I told you. But a young man was in attendance at this very banquet, attempting for my vote in a matter there," he explained, and you acted as if it was all new information to you.
"I see," you nodded along, "and his attempts?"
"I imagined would be futile. Still, I entertained him and now..." he trailed off, "I don't suppose you know Lorenzo de ‘Medici?" Your composure was tested, but you held it.
"Not personally, no," you shook your head, lying through your teeth, "but I have certainly heard of him and his family."
"And?" He pushed, desperate for your advice.
"You fear voting in his favour?" You took a sip of your drink, your eyes watching Vitelli for his reaction.
"Well no, certainly not, it's tha-" you cut off his ramble before it could begin.
"Things are not always as complicated as we make them, Messer," you could tell that whatever Lorenzo had done had worked. Vitelli would vote for him. You simply knew it.
"Maybe so," he took a drink himself, before a woman appeared behind him, gushing over his grandson, and he was pulled away from you.
"Thank you, Madonna!" You simply nodded at his brisk goodbye, finishing your drink before heading off yourself.
The warm reds of the sunset seemed to perfectly match your attire as you skipped down the front steps, feeling a chill as the night air crept over your skin. You were staying not too far from where the banquet was held, in another quaint inn. You set off down the road, until you sensed someone behind you.
Ready to strike, you spun around to Lorenzo already grinning at you. "You never told me you could dance."
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specialmindz · 5 years
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“LOOK SNAS! Weaves.” Papyrus held out his gloves to show his brother the handful of wet leaves he had picked off the ground, wearing a big smile…though it was a tad TOO big for Sans liking…  
“yep, those are leaves all right...you’re not gonna eat those are ya’?”
“Course’ not stink head,” said the baby bones, slightly insulted. “Unlike you big Buther, I knows the difference between clothes and food. You think the baby be stupid?”
“i don’t eat trees and those aren’t clothes. trees don’t wear leaves to stay warm, otherwise they wouldn’t be on the ground come winter.”
“They’re hats Snas, and hats are clothes. Twees doesn’t wear them during winter cause’ they all worn out,” Papyrus picked up a leaf. “See dis leaf? It gots holes in it. Not good. They needs new hats.”
“no they don’t, the leaves collect sunlight for them so they can get energy, pappy. There’s holes in them because insects are eating them.”
Apparently, he thinks I’M stupid…
“Not erybody a twee-eating woah-bot Snas…sides’ we’s underground silly bones!”
“i’m not-”
“And the sun don’t go out in winter! Nyeh heh heh!”
Sans gave his brother a look, but stayed silent. He knew full well that his younger sibling was just waiting for him to argue so he could start some kind of drama and he wasn’t going to give the infant the satisfaction. Papyrus knew about the sun lamps that hung from the mountain ceiling and if he wanted to pick a fight about something that stupid, he was going to have to try a little harder than that.
I wish he’d put his energy to good use…I know he’s just a baby, but he’s smart right? He could do some real good for the Underground if he’d just try. Why does he wanna act stupid and annoy people all the time?
“We should be good baes and get the twees some new hats before someone cut them down,” said Papyrus, pulling Sans out of his thoughts. “They moves real slow ya’ know? Like Charlie. I bet Dirt-Butt knows where the hat store be! Is probably in one of those tunnels…a kiosk if baby had to guess.”
Oh yeah, Flowey! I forgot about him, he hasn’t visited us in a while.
Maybe Papyrus ISN’T trying to start a fight after all…maybe he thinks since Flowey’s a monster, ALL plants are monsters…they just can’t talk like he can.
Still feels like he’s messing with me though, why call the leaves hats instead of hair? They grow on top of the trees like hair and hair falls out and I even heard it gets damaged…
An image of Undyne arguing with her mother flashed through his mind. She got in trouble often because she wouldn’t put her hair up before swimming and usually ended up with leaves and other grasses Sans wasn’t familiar with tangled in her bright red locks.
One day she might make a habit of putting it in a ponytail of some sort, but for now, her hair was too short for her to care too much. She was never one to care about her physical appearance; if it wasn’t slowing her down in the water or getting caught on stuff, Undyne simply didn’t and wouldn’t care no matter how much her mother screamed at her.
I’m glad I don’t have hair. As pretty as it is, it looks hard to take care of.
Where is Undyne anyway? She was supposed to meet us here…
“SNAS!”
“huh?” Sans stopped daydreaming and looked down to find a very annoyed baby bones glaring up at him. Apparently, he had missed a question…that, or an entire conversation.      
“uh, sorry. what’s a kiosk?”
“*Sigh* Is a tiny shop dat sells tiny things,” replied the baby holding his fingers close together. “I was talkin’ bout’ how there might be one that sells hats for da’ twees in one of those tunnels.”
“you mean the dog tunnels?”
“Yep! Is a good hiding pace cause’ lossa peoples think branches are the twee’s arms, but is really their roots. They use them to walk and grab stuffs from underground like Dirt-Butt, but you probly already knowed that. Hippie’s be one wit da’ nature! You’s keeping the twee store a secret right? Cause’ is illegal? You help the twees a widdle and they give you a munch on da’ side?”
“what the hell are you talking about papyrus?” asked Sans completely lost.
“You’s leading peoples astray wit yo’ cwazy talk about twees having solar powers so that no one will cut them down and in return, they let you eat their hats.”
Oh good, it’s another one of his conspiracy theories. Those don’t get old at all.
“the only one talkin’ crazy here is you baby bro. i don’t know how dad made you, but something went very wrong.”
“Nope, I’s right all right. You just gots da’ trust issues. You think I’s gonna tell erybody about the store, so you’s lying with the deceit!” exclaimed the baby pointing his finger at his brother accusingly. “Don’t know why you think baby would do dat, I’s always been nice to you and I’s ALWAYS honest, but-”
“bullcrap you’re honest! ain’t nothing ‘honest’ about you!”
“If daz what you think, then your memory be worse then the baby’s!”
“n-”
“You should go ask Daddy to fix yo’ memory brain big Buther.”
Okay he DOES want to start a fight.
“my memory’s fine and you know it. you lie about everything. you told me the mountain was made out of dinosaur poop!”
“It is!”
“it’s not.”
“Is too! Daz why all mountains are big and pointy and stuffs grow on them. Is cause’ doody be good fer-ti-lizer. Dis mountain don’t smell no more cause’ is been a gazillion years is all…”
“you’re so full of crap.”
“Nuh uh, ask the baby bear dat lives here, he know! He tell me humans climb doody mountains like dis allll the time looking for bears, so they can injects em’ with stuff dat turns them into candies.”
“i doubt he even knows you.”
“He do, he know me and he tell da’ baby dat the serum stuffs make all their fur fall out and turns their bodies into gummies. It shrink them too Snas! Like, reeeal small, till’ they can fits in yo’ hand. Humans call the candies Gummy Bears and they puts em’ on their nice cream.”
“gummy bears huh? shame. that’s not a very creative name pap, and you were telling such a great lie too.”
“I’s NOT lying! I gots poof, see?” Papyrus pulled a bag of…something, out of his jacket and held it up proudly. “It say ‘Gummy Bears’ and inside be widdle dead bears that got caught stealing pic-i-nic baskets. Dis what bears get for stealing big Buther…they doesn’t go to jail cause’ they strong enough to bend da’ bars.”
“eww! put that down papyrus, it’s dripping!”
“NO! These MY gummies! Go find yo’ own Snas!”
SCRUF SCRUF SCRUF SCRUF!
Papyrus ran through the snow as best a baby bones could in a vain attempt to protect his gummies from his hungry hippo brother, but the snow was FAR too deep for such a tiny thing like him he realized, as he noticed Sans walking beside him nonchalantly with his hands in his pockets.
Fine then, Plan B.
Rolling onto his back, he began kicking in the air, holding onto his bag of candy protectively. “If you think taking candies from dis baby gonna be easy, we’ll see what you think after yo’ teeths go missing, NYEH!”
“you’re gonna get sick bro.”
“I PUT YOU IN DA’ MEDICAL WING FIRST! You weave mah gummies alone stink buther, YOU GOTS YOUR HATS!”
Teleporting behind his sibling, Sans grabbed the bag with the shrieking baby bones still attached. He didn’t know HOW Papyrus had managed to eat so many things from the Dump without getting sick, but the comedian’s paranoia was starting to get to him. Monsters that couldn’t handle the poisonous fumes from the volcano in Hotland were dropping like flies and being sent to their Medical Ward in the lab, never to return; in fact, NO sick monsters were returning from the Medical Ward, despite some of their illnesses not being all that serious.
It’s because we’re so low on magic crystals.
The medicines we use are made from plants that need sun lamps like these to live, but without the crystals to provide the electricity...
“…i hope WE don’t get sick…”
Papyrus stopped screaming for a second. “Nyeh?”
Uh oh, what was Sans thinking about NOW? Obviously, his mind was no longer on the bag of Gummy Bears…or on how cruel he was being, taking candies away from cute little skelly babies such as himself.
He seemed to be fixated on the sun lamps above them, glowing dimly, definitely not as bright as last month. Papyrus didn’t really know how the lamps worked, or at least he didn’t remember anyway, but he knew why they were dim. They had to turn the power down to conserve what little energy they had left.    
“Why you worried bout’ the fake suns Snas? You still gots da’ fake sparklies in Waterfall…”
“*sigh* you…you don’t understand bro. the plants we use…they need these lights to live. if they go out, we won’t have any more medicine or even foo-”
Oh shit.
“GASP! NO FOOD?!”
“papyrus.”
Aw crap, I shouldn’t have said anything.
“BUT YOU NEEDS FOOD!” exclaimed Papyrus, dropping to the ground and putting his hands to his cheekbones. “WHAT YOU GONNA DO IF THERE NO PLANTS FOR YOU TO MUNCH HIPPIE WOAH-BOT BABY? YOU CAN’T WIVE OFF MILK LIKE I DOS!”
“you don’t live off milk, i’ve seen you eat other…you were just trying to eat this garbage!”
“Don’t worry Snas! We gonna go find Dirt-Butt and get him to tell the twees the sit-u-ation-”
“I DON’T EAT TREES!”
“We gonna get him to tell the twees in their language that times have changed. Like an old diaper, IS TIME TO DO AWAY WITH PAST TRADITIONS AND WELCOME DA’ NEW!”
“what the hell are you talking about?”
“NO LONGER SHALL THEY LIVE THEIR WIVES AS NUDISTS!” cried Papyrus, pumping his fist into the air.
“the hell do you know what a nudist is? we don’t watch videos like that!”
“NO LONGER SHALL THEY ACCEPT BEING TREATED LIKE SECOND CLASS PEOPLES AND DEPEND ON OUR FAKE SUNS FOR WARMTH!”
“iii don’t think you understand how trees OR sun lamps work baby bro…”
“THEY SHALL FIGHT FOR THEIR INNAPENDENCE! Tell em’ Dirt-Butt.”
“WE SHALL FIGHT FOR OUR INDEPENDENCE!”
“NO, no one’s fighting ANYONE, and get outta here flowey! where’d you even come from?!”
Poking his head out from behind a tree, Flowey leapt up onto a nearby stump and began his trademark wiggling dance, equipped with a smile. “I heard the brat say my name a couple minutes ago. Usually, that means something terrible is about to befall me in the near future, so I thought I’d stick around and learn what that something was beforehand, so as to avoid any trauma…wasn’t aware this was a pep rally though.”
“it’s not. like i said, no one’s fighting anybody, pap’s just being dumb.”
“YOU DUMB! They are gonna fight Snas! monsters be cutting power from the high lamps so big peoples can have their coffee, and they cuts twees down for firewood if their hats not pretty enough! DIRT-BUTT’S PEOPLE BE OPPRESSED!”
“YEAH SMILEY, MY PEOPLE ARE OPPRESSED!”
“THEY WANTS EQUAL RIGHTS!”
“WE WANT VENGENCE!”
“THEY WANTS RESPECT!”
“WE WANT BLOOD!”
“THEY WANTS A BRIGHTER FOOTURE FOR THEIR BABIES!”
“WE WANT A NEW WORLD ORDER!”
“you two are NOT on the same page.”
“DOWN WIT DA’ RACIST MONSTERS AND THEIR RACIST WAYS! VIVA REVOLUTION!”
“viva-what…?”
“GENOCIDE GENOCIDE!!”
RUSTLE!
RUSTLE!
“Hm?” Flowey turned his head towards a tree that had yet to lose most of its leaves upon hearing something rustling within. Squinting his eyes didn’t do him a bit of good in finding out just who the shadowy figure lurking amongst the branches was, but the text that appeared when they spoke…and the voice that accompanied it, were all the hints he needed to get him rolling them in IMMEDIATE annoyance.
“GET THE HELL OFF ME PEDO-TREE! LET GO OF MY HAIR!”
Oh good, it’s Fish Breath. I was waiting for someone to ruin my day…
“Nyeh? Where you going Dirt-Butt?”
“GODDAMNIT!”
“Yeaah, I forgot, the trees and I juust passed this new law that says no hanging out with dorks…sucks huh?”
“…”
“…”
“Oh don’t you two look at me like that! You know I voted against it, but we plants run a democracy sooo…duces dorks! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
And with that, Flowey vanished into the ground just as Undyne came tumbling down the tree.
“OOF!”
“undyne!” Sans dropped the bag of gummies and ran over to help her up. “don’t touch that bag bro! undyne, are you alright?”
“Ow…STUPID TREE! YOU’RE LUCKY ALL THESE HATS BROKE MY FALL OR I’D KICK YOUR ASS!”
Sans stopped.
“Um, hello? Aren’t you gonna help me up? I’M A LADY DAMNIT!”
“*Mamph* I’ll helps you *gulp* Fish Lady!”
“I’m just kidding Papyrus, I’m okay, I’m fi-no…no Papyrus, don’t-don’t touch me, go. Go. Over. There. Go to your brother.”
“You wants some of these candies? They’re good…”
“No, they smell gross and they’re dripping with gay water,” said Undyne, pushing Papyrus towards Sans.
“Is okay! I heard-ed somewhere that the rainbow water only affects froggets…”
“pappy-”
“Why? Because they’re water monsters? Well so am I, so I can’t eat stuff from the Dump.” She looked around the wooded area. “Where’s that one guy that was shouting about homicide? I know there was someone else here!”
Did he climb up a tree like I did?
“genocide, not homicide. Flowey left awhile ago. As soon as you fell out of that tree as a matter of fact…why WHERE you up there anyway?”
“I was on a stakeout, looking for that one kid that likes to get mad at people when they don’t find him funny. Snowdrake or whatever his name is.” She scanned the area again with her one good eye; there was DEFINITELY someone else here before. She wouldn’t mistake an annoying high-pitched voice like that for Sans or even Papyrus.
Where could they have gone so quickly?
“what, snowdrake? why?! snowdrake isn’t a criminal! he gets mad when people don’t like his puns, but he doesn’t ATTACK people!”
Often…
Undyne glared at him, but Sans refused to back down. Snowdrake was one of the few people he HOPED he could become friends with in time. He didn’t seem to care about how dangerous his little brother was, only that Sans enjoyed his jokes. Apparently, his father was a comedian and had been for several years, but the two didn’t get along because of one singular problem Snowdrake had. He didn’t understand comedy. He enjoyed puns like Sans, but he couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of what they were for and he often got angry whenever people didn’t find him funny.
To be honest, his temper tantrums were an embarrassment to Sans, but he hoped in time he’d grow out of it, and he damn sure wasn’t going to ruin everything by ratting him out to Undyne so she could play hero…  
“HE’S DISTURBING THE PEACE SANS! HE’S DISTURBING THE PEACE OF OUR PEACEFUL COMMUNITY AND MUST BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE! Though it sounds like I found an even BIGGER problem in our community…”
“a bigger problem?”
“A poacher of endangered monsters! Where did this genie-killer go Sans? YOU HAVE TO TELL ME OR YOU’RE AN ACCOMPLICE!”
The Font stared at her for a moment, torn between being relieved that her attention had been drawn elsewhere and being annoyed with having to once again deal with another big plate of stupid so early in the morning. “what genie-killer? genies don’t even exist. i said GENO-cide, not genie-cide. you heard wrong.”
“I don’t think so. Another name for genies is ‘djinn’ and it’s pronounced the same way. I’m not stupid Sans! I don’t read nerd books, but I study the law and stuff! GEN-ocide or DJINN-ocide, however you want to spell it, is the murder of GENIES-”
“no.”
“And genies are a rare breed of ghost monster that possess an object and come out only to grant wishes-”
“no.”
This is a VERY big plate of stupid.
“THAT’S why poachers are after them. If bad people make bad wishes, it could destroy the world, so they hunt them down. Your friend might THINK he’s doing everyone a favor, but he’s still a murderer if he kills one-”
“genies do not exist.”
“*Nom* Nowheres but the Middle East anyways.”
“…”
“…”
“…what?”
Papyrus reached into his bag. “The word ‘djinn’ is Arabic. That mean genies come from da’ Middle East…dat’s where Egypt be big Buther. Is in da’ middle of the earth…but also a widdle east,” he popped a gummy into his mouth. “I doesn’t know if they come from Saudi Arabia or Iraq, but they definitely not live here. They be used to desert environments ya’ know? It be too cold in da’ Massachusetts.”
“How did you spell that…?”
“the only word i recognize there is ‘egypt.’ that…place you keep talking about.”
“Well maybe if you read-ed books about our panet instead of about sparklies all the time, you’d know somethin’.”
“we don’t HAVE books like that.”
Not even in the library. Everyone left for Mt. Ebott at such short notice, they just brought what they had on them. Most of the books come from what the kids had in their backpacks when they…
Wait a minute…
“Daddy do. He gots allll da’ info on stuffs. He taked all the important books out the library for himself and the baby! He say the bigger I gets, the more memories I lose, so I gots to read lots! He say I can’t let YOU read them though, cause’ you might leave and travel da’ world without me, but I know you not do that. You can read mah books whenever you wants ALL you wants…”
“wait hold on, you have a memory problem?”
This was news to Sans.
Assuming it wasn’t a lie of course.
It was true he hadn’t been paying much attention to Papyrus much to his shame, what with worrying about their future and all, but when he did, he noticed there WERE, in fact, instances where he would question his baby brother’s intellect, or at the very least, his mind.
There was once a time when Sans and paranoia were inseparable. He would question everything his brother said and did, knowing he was the Lying Font, and always assuming Papyrus was messing with him, he would prepare for the worst or simply flat out ignore the baby bones; but things had long since changed. Nowadays, it was difficult to tell whether or not the infant believed his own lies and that made weeding them out in general that much more difficult. His father warned him:
“Papyrus is the king of deceit. As he grows older his lies will become more intricate and deadly."
An intimidating message that seemed less laughable as the months flew by.
He thought it’d be easy…for HIM at least, to tell when his brother was lying, because he spent the most time with him, but the reality was, his sibling was changing right before his eyes and Sans couldn’t decide if he was getting dumber or cleverer. According to his father, the Papyrus fonts were the world’s greatest actors because they were METHOD actors; walking, talking, even thinking like the characters they tried to portray. They were the only people on earth who could pretend to be somebody else for years if not forever without going completely insane, because they had no set personality and weren’t aware that they’re lying not only to everyone around them, but to themselves included…but SANS’ brother had Wingdings, meaning there was enough there…enough personality to have a second font anyway, and that drove the comedian insane.
I know my bro’s a genius; he knows about trees.
DOES he have a memory problem?
Did he forget what leaves are? Or how sun lamps work?
Or is he just pretending to be an ordinary baby who doesn’t understand how the WORLD works yet?
He’s lying. He has to be lying. He’s lying right? He’s just pretending to have memory problems so his future lies will seem more innocent. “Oh, I didn’t MEAN to lie when I said the wind on the surface sometimes picked up houses and threw them at people big Brother! I just forgot how wind works cause’ I have memory issues!”
Lying little shit.
He’s lying right?
“…for real pap, do you really have memory problems?”            
“Yep. I used to know erything a baby needed to know to be big, but now there be things I gots to understand all over again. It suck monkey big Buther…” Papyrus looked sad, but Sans couldn’t tell if it was because he was telling the truth, or because he had run out of those disgusting gummies of his. The infant tilted the bag upside down, spilling the garbage juice within onto the snowy ground near his boots. “All gone…nyeh…”
“ugh…bro…”
Seriously, what’s in that baby formula of his?!
“EWW! WHY’D YOU DO THAT? SANS GET YOUR BROTHER!”
Sighing, he did as he was told. “c’mere pap, let’s go get some real food at grillby’s,” he said, tucking the infant under one arm.
“Gillby’s? Dat stink pace wit da’ frog food? How bout’ no? Put baby down, I eats things at the Dump, not things that BELONG at the Dump.”
“wh-you love hamburgers!”
“Yeah! Hamburgers are GREAT! If you don’t like Grillby’s food, YOU DON’T BELONG IN THIS COUNTRY! Right Sans?”
“I loved em’ good before I knowed they be made of frog…and you doesn’t even know what country we in, so shut it up clown fish with the racism, or Imma tell mah Daddy!”
“YOU’RE A CLOWN FISH, AND I’M NOT SCARED OF YOUR DAD! I’M NOT SCARED OF ANYTHING!!”
“hamburgers aren’t made of frogs bro-”
“What-”
“OR froggets.”
“…They slimy dough…you shouldn’t give slimy stuffs to widdle babies Snas, we gets it in our hairs…”
“it’s not slime-”
“Don’t you care about my hairs…?”
“OH MY GOD! IT’S GREASE, NOT SLIME AND IT’S DELICIOUS!” yelled Undyne hurling a large rock across the woods.
“hey, watch it! you’re gonna hurt somebody!”
“Grease be a movie Fish Lady. I don’t wish to nibble on greased lightning, I’ll gets elly-cuted…electra-cuted. Then Gillby will serve me as da’ baby back ribs and peoples will love it…cept’ they won’t love it cause’ there only be one serving cause’ there only be one me. The customers probly think, ‘why dis one guy get the baby ribs and we don’t? why we not special like him? I not eat here no mores!’ Then Gillby get no more customers and he go out of business…and that will make big Buther sad.”
“…”
“He like the frog food even dough is not healthy for a hippie woah-bot…unless you’s just eating da’ lettuce. You no eat the frog patty Snas? What you do wit dat frog patty?”
“It’s not frog, it’s cow…or magic. Magic cow…? Hey Sans, what are hamburgers made of?”
“it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care. he just wants your attention-”
“IS MOO-COW? LIKE AZZY’S MOM?”
“Uhh…yeah…?”
Who’s Azzy? He doesn’t go to my daycare…
“Ooooh…still, I doesn’t wish to eat at Gillby’s. I thanks you for the invitation Snas, but I’s trying to get big as in tall, not big as in you.”
“go die in a fire papyrus.”
“Daz rude.”
Deciding on silence, Sans teleported to Grillby’s. Perhaps a burger would keep his baby brother quiet for a while…
“HEY SANS YOU JERK! YOU LEFT ME BEHIND!”
SCRUF SCRUF SCRUF SCRUF SCRUF!
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO INVITE ME AND PAY FOR MY MEAL, MAMA SAID!!”
Or maybe it wouldn’t be so quiet after all.  
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lifemessesofkj · 5 years
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One Upon A Time Rewatch Review: Season 3A, Abandoning Your Son Is A Family Tradition
Where we started: Storybrooke, on our way to Neverland
Where we ended: New York, New York
Curse Count: 2
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First, Peter Pan’s eyebrows. Seriously, could Robbie Kay be ANY HOTTER? His eyebrows are so perfect. No eighteen year old should have eyebrows that perfect.
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And then second, this exchange between Emma and Charming.
E: You sure you don’t have any other reasons for pushing me towards Neal?
C: Like what?
E: I don’t know, keeping me away from Hook?
C: You think I’m interested in Hook? Emma, I’m a married man!
Charming and Hook were destined to become best bros.
This half-season was made up of the first eleven episodes. We went to Neverland to get Henry back and learned a whole lot.
We learned Henry has another relative after finding out that Peter Pan is Rumplestiltskin’s father. Welcome to the family tree, please stop being such a dick to all your relatives. Little Rumple was a cutie. Also his little doll that becomes the inspiration for his father’s name is wearing a little blue jacket that is VERY similar to the blue Beast Jacket that Rumple wears later in the series. We learn abandoning your sons is a tradition on that side of the family, and Neal is determined not to carry it on.
We find out that Emma still identifies as an orphan, and like of course she does. It would be ridiculous of the show not to have. This prompts Snow to admit that she’s real upset about having missed Emma’s entire life and she wants a do-over baby. I’ve said before what bad parents Snow and Charming are, but I accept why they want another kid. And I also think it’s the sweetest thing ever that Ginnifer Goodwin and Josh Dallas fell in love for real and had a real baby. This will be addressed in the second half of the season, I’m sure I’ll talk more about it then.
Henry doesn’t like apples, and “it’s a family thing” which is probably the funniest Snow White joke the grandson of Snow White could make. We all know that the hot chocolate and cinnamon is hereditary. My best friend and I have had hot chocolate with cinnamon while watching this show, it’s really good, with or without whipped cream (but like always whipped cream, am I right?”
Charming...I mean he went through the whole poisoning, not being able to leave Neverland, getting a cure ordeal. It was all mostly plot device for Snow’s baby-fever awakening and a convenient way to explore Hook. But it’s Josh Dallas so I don’t really care.
Hook was a great player this season. I had a picture of that makeout with Emma in my high school locker for like three years. We learned about how he had a brother, Liam, how his death turned Hook against the King and into a pirate (we never really learn which King, but I one hundred percent believe we’re talking about King George, James’ fake father.
We met the Darlings through both the explanation of how Bae got to Neverland and then John and Michael arriving in Storybrooke and then Wendy being a prisoner. I loved this whole twist on the classics.
Also in Neverland we happen upon two favorites: Tinkerbell and Ariel. Tinkerbell takes us on a journey of rediscovering a belief in ourselves and also lets us know Regina has a second chance at love out there (also in Neal’s brief stay in the Enchanted Forest shows us a few scenes with the future beau, our newly recast Robbin Hood, hi Sean Maguire, I was happy to see you). And Ariel has some great scenes in this season with her Prince, with Snow, with Regina as Ursula, with Regina as Regina. She reunites with Eric (quick grievance with the costume department for putting Eric in what looks to be a pretty expensive, well made cream coloured knit-sweater while chopping and gutting fish on a dock).
We also saw Henry’s adoption story, that Regina knew Henry’s birth mother was going to break the curse, but chose her love for Henry anyways. SOOO cute. (Also she inadvertently saved him from John and Michael). And speaking of origin stories, we see Henry receiving the book.
There’s a little episode where Henry and Pan switch bodies, which is great. I think it must be so fun for actors on the set to do this. Jared Gilmore did such a great job being the bad guy, which was probably a great change, and same with Robbie Kay as Henry, being part of the family. Every scene where they are chilling together looks really odd out of context.
Pan and Rumple’s father-son struggle plays out right up until Rumple sacrifices his life for his family, while they are all forced to watch. They have such a wonderful on-screen dynamic. 
Regina makes a big sacrifice by sacrificing Henry to Emma so they can escape Pan’s curse. It’s really sad, and I really did think the show was ending during the last ten minutes of the midseason finale. I did not have a lot of access to the internet back then so I couldn’t look up what was happening. We see Henry’s birth scene again, where she refuses to look at or hold Henry before a big goodbye scene with everyone at the town line. Henry and Regina’s is really really touching. “You’re not a villian, you’re my mom.” Emma and Neal say a goodbye, which I honestly forgot about, in my memories Pan’s curse happens after Neal’s death. Regina tells Emma that they will forget their memories, which is a year or so of Emma’s memories, and Henry’s ENTIRE life. But she promises to do what she can to give them, new good life memories where they’ve always been together. I mean if Whale and Archie can become doctors through the curse, I guess Emma can get the ten years of parenting experience she didn’t have before.
Also really interesting that they went with Green for all of Pan’s magic, considering who we’re going to meet in the second half of this season. Cause she’s going to monopolize green for the rest of the run of the show. Also Leroy/Grumpy gets to yell about the curse, because IT’S HERE!
We see Henry’s birth scene again, but this time Emma decides at the last minute to hold Henry and become a young single parent. I’m serious there’s two and a half minutes left of this episode and if the series ended with this scene people probably would have been satisfied. (Also in case I never mentioned this before, Henry is born at 8:15, same as every other significant time in this show)
But thank God it didn’t. We get a lot done in the last three minutes. We flash forward a year and arrive in New York City. At 8:15. Because it is always 8:15 in this show, just like how in Bones it’s always 4:47. Emma and Henry are living in a nice place, making breakfast, all is well. Again, still could’ve been a series finale, I was losing my mind.
And then, 1 minute and 32 seconds until end of credits, Hook is at the door, looking for Emma to save her family. She doesn’t remember him, she knees him in the nads and locks the door. I mean, personally I would’ve called the cops but that’s fine. It’s not like he sexually assaulted her or anything. Except that he did. She goes back to eating breakfast with her twelve year old son and we have a mid-season wrap.
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stylo-xx · 6 years
Text
Eyes Closed (M)
G-Dragon: Angst/Small amount of fluff/Smut
PART 9-A: Telephone Games
A/N: more to come soon
P.S: songs for your listening pleasure (The Horrors)
(Part One)||(Part Two-A)||(Part Two-B)||(Part Three)||(Part Four)||(Part Five-A)||(Part Five-B)||(Part Five-C)||(Part Six)(Part Seven)||(Part Eight)||(Part Nine-B)
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Ji-Yong twirled his phone in his hands before unlocking it for the hundredth time before sighing heavily and locking it back up.
“You know, they say doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is insanity right?” Young-Bae raised an eyebrow.
Ji-Yong ignoring his best friend, absentmindedly scoffed as he stared at the black screen of his phone.
“How many weeks is it now that you’ve been waiting for her to hit you up?” “I don’t know I lost count...but I’m betting less than the amount of texts I’ve sent her” Ji-Yong sighed as he plopped his phone on his chest as he slunk into the couch “the fucked up thing is that she never has her read receipts on but she turned them on just so I could see she that she left me on read...” “Ouch, that’s a bit harsh” “A bit? She’s rubbing that bullshit excuse for a relationship in my face” he furrowed his brows. “By not responding to your texts?” “In case you’ve forgotten, any of those millions of pictures she’s been posting of her and that asshole, she made it official. Like to the public! God! it’s like even when we first got together we kept it as low key as we could for a while but suddenly she just wants everyone and their mother to know how great her newfound relationship with Satan is” “I mean you did kinda rub your non existent, happy relationship with Cassie in her face so—” “So nothing! That wasn’t an invite for her to stay pissed at me while she’s out ‘having the time of her life’ and rub it in my face” “What did you want her to do exactly?” “I don’t fucking know! Tell me that she’s sorry and she made a mistake and she needs me back” “So you basically want her to feel guilty for being in a functioning relationship with someone else?” “I guess when you put it that way then...yeah, kinda...yeah” Young-Bae sighed as he sat on the couch beside his best friend. “I’ve done everything she wanted me to do and yet here I am still not with her! I mean I got sober!—for the most part at least...I haven’t fucked anyone else!—except for those three girls in Japan I tried to distract myself with...but she practically has me crawling on my hands and knees begging her to get back with me” “I mean she does think you have a girlfriend…”
“That’s beside the point!”
“I don’t know maybe just tell her Cassie isn’t your actual girlfriend? Maybe just tell her the truth? Ever think about that?” “And run the risk of her getting even more pissed at me for lying? I think I’m good” Young-Bae sighed heavily “you ever think about just moving on? Clearly she has” Jiyong raised an eyebrow “you’re joking right? Besides, I can’t just ‘move on…” “Why not?” “Because I love her. And I know I fucked up, on more than one occasion, but I wanna make up for it before I don’t get the chance to” Young-Bae nodded his head absentmindedly “Also because I just can’t...I can’t. Physically, mentally I can’t. And I know it sounds stupid but I can’t” “Doesn’t sound stupid, just tiresome for the both of you” Ji-Yong bit his lip as he sat in deep thought for a moment. “Okay let’s say that, for instance, I were to just let her go and I ‘move on’ with someone else” he air quoted “--further down the line we’re able to see each other happy with someone else and not have any kind of feelings for one another and we manage to be best friends again—” “Doesn’t sound like a bad scenario to me” Young-Bae interjected.
“—let’s say that even further down the line, a year from now, two years from now things go great with both of our significant others and one day she calls me up all excited to tell me she got engaged to him—” Young-Bae opened his mouth to speak, Ji-Yong held up a hand to shush him before he could utter a single syllable “Then it hits me like a ton of bricks that I in-fact am not only not over her, but this wave of panic takes over me and come the day of her wedding all I’m gonna wanna do is to get wasted and tell her I’m still in love her and that she’s making a huge mistake marrying him and she should just run away with me. But then she tells me that she doesn’t feel that same way anymore and she marries him any way. But where the hell does that leave me Young-Bae? Huh? Where does that leave me? All alone wishing I had done something earlier”
He had gotten so worked up he stood up mid monologue. “I mean you see I’m in the right here, right?” Ji-Yong turned his body toward him. “Honestly I’m not so inclined to tell you where I stand on this whole mess between the two of you” “What why not?” “Because no matter what I say, you two do the complete opposite and frankly just don’t know how to help anymore. I will be here for you until the very end but I just don’t know how to help either of you” Ji-Yong furrowed his brows. Young-Bae crossed his arms across his chest “sure you say you got ‘sober’ and you haven’t screwed anyone else, not counting those three girls, but...do you honestly think you can change at this point?” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “What I think I’m trying to say is, Ji-Yong nobody believes you anymore. You’re a sad ass liar” “What did you just call me?” “You deserve to be lonely”
“What the fuck Young-Bae?!” “You can’t change. You wouldn’t know how to even if you actually tried” Ji-Yong squared up to his best friend. “She is much happier with him...you? You’ll only be the end of her...you’re just poison” The words and the image of his best friend started to become distorted as his words began to echo in his head as if in some horror movie. Tossing and turning in bed he awoke in a cold sweat
“Fuck!” He ran his hands over his face before he turned to face the glowing green numbers on his alarm clock on his night stand. Three AM.
‘Goddamn it’  he thought He sat up on one elbow to reach across the night stand to grab his phone. He groaned as he hit the home button prompting the screen to turn on blinding him with the light. He shut one eye as he turned down the brightness and began to scroll through his texts. He bit his lip contemplating opening the thread that read ‘Alex’.   He had finally changed her name in his phone, considering he had called her now on more than one occasion, he wasn’t afraid of drunk dialing her anymore. What he was afraid of was that the reason she wasn’t responding was because she had blocked his number and all together tossed any and all memory of him in the figurative garbage. For the past month and a half, Ji-Yong had for the most part managed to stay sober despite his own brain clawing at his skull telling him to just down a few bottles until he wound up in the hospital again; that way she would have to come see him. And with his onset new sobriety, he’s even managed to stay celibate somehow. Though in retrospect he thought he went a bit overboard with trying to clean his act up. With his body not used to not having some sort of release it had inadvertently made him sensitive to the human touch. Just days prior at press junket during the translators speaking to the press, Seung-Hyun had leaned over to whisper something in Ji-Yong’s ear and it almost instantaneously sent shivers down his spine. Since then the others had teased Ji-Yong relentlessly randomly blowing on his neck, massaging his head and so on and so forth. Not having sex for as long as he had, had only made him rely on his imagination and his right hand. Though admittedly it just wasn’t the same as watching the person beneath beneath him squirm and claw at his back in ecstasy.
His thumb hesitantly hovered over her name in bold black text in his recent calls list; he weighed his options in his head as his bit his lip.
‘Was twenty-two unanswered calls one too many past desperate?’ he thought.
He sighed heavily placing one arm behind his head and leaning back into his mountain of pillows.
“Fuck it” he muttered to himself pressing dial anticipating the robotic voice he had come to know far too well.
Sure enough, not even a full ring on the receiver and he was sent directly to voicemail. Sighing again, he pulled his phone away from his ear readying to hang up as the robotic woman delivered her speech he had come to know by heart. Just as his finger was mere centimeters away from the red button he retracted his finger placing the phone back up to his ear.
‘--Please leave your message after the tone’
He took a deep breath before speaking
“Hey uh Alex its me...Ji-Yong” he chuckled awkwardly “I mean I guess you already know that ‘cause of the caller ID...umm it’s three AM here...I--I thought I’d actually leave you a message finally. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay...you hadn’t called me back so--just let me know how you’re doing...even just a--”
Two beeps signaling the call ending cut him off mid sentence.
“Mother fucker...” he muttered as he plopped his phone onto his chest and slunk even further into his sea of pillows and bed sheets.
He wasn’t sure where to go from here. He had tried his best to backpedal from when his own plan backfired straight onto his face the night of the dinner with Suho and company, though his efforts were all for naught. It had been a month and a half now and he still hadn’t heard back from Alex. At this point things weren’t looking to be in his favor; or so he felt that way.
“A-Bomb, calm down!”
“Liar!” she slurred as she drunkenly threw another half eaten chocolate at the mural advertisement on the side of the building.
“You’re wasting perfectly good chocolate!” Sash struggled behind Alex trying to grasp her by the wrist “besides the Guess model with the nice ass didn’t do anything to you!”
“No!”
“Alex, give me the box of chocolates!”
“No!” she wriggled herself free sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Alexandra!” Sash panted as she chased behind her.
“No, she’s fine...” Saige sighed as she looked behind her “we’re walking back from the pub to the hotel now”
‘All that yelling doesn’t sound fine to me’
“Don’t even worry, she’ll be over it soon”
‘I just don’t want her to have some sort of meltdown at that award show for it to be broadcasted for millions of people to see. Saige, you promised me that this new guy was going to help keep her reputation in pristine status’
“Chill out Davis, trust me on this. This guy is actually good for her, if not just making her look good”
‘Looking good is part of her job, that’s not the problem Sai--’
“To the public!” she scoffed “you know what I meant”
‘Listen, all I want out of this is that this show makes it look like she got her shit together and judging by how things sound on your end I am not so convinced’
“They’ve made it this far without her looking like a complete lunatic--”
‘Have you gone deaf or am I the only one hearing her screaming ‘fuck these stupid fucking chocolates’ Saige?’
“Trust me--”
‘You keep telling me to trust you Saige but your argument is mute!’
“Listen to me you hard headed genius of a man!” she huffed into the receiver “you asked me to take over her social media and make it look like she’s unbelievably happy and in love, and did I deliver?”
‘Yes…’
“You asked me to make sure she didn’t run her career into the ground when she came back to Seoul a few months ago, and did I not do that?”
‘It didn’t exactly go as smoothly as I asked...’ he sighed.
“Did I or did I not manage to turn that scandle into making her look good?”
‘Yes, but she almost went completely off the deep end with that asshole again Saige! Don’t think I didn’t find out about that’
“That is besides the point!” she scoffed “point is I got her to open her eyes, and with a little coaxing from Suho and from the douchebag’s own stupidity, she made the right choice and chose Suho”
‘This isn’t another episode of Grey’s Anatomy of McDreamy VS. McVet we’re talking about here kid, we’re talking about one of my biggest money makers almost running away with the Rebel Without a Cause and costing me lots of money when she can’t film anything because she’s either too distraught to work or because studios don’t want her because she has too much baggage following her!’
“Okay, first of all don’t talk about her like she’s some piggy bank” she furrowed her brows “you’ve known her since she was like twelve! And secondly the big picture here is Davis, she didn’t run away with that egotistical sadomasochist--”
‘The big picture here Saige, is she’s drunkenly running around throwing confectioneries on the darkened street corners of London at two in the morning!’
She sighed heavily.
‘Listen…’ he paused ‘I get that you have got your work cut out for you especially since you are her best friend, and I know sometimes it’s hard to draw the line between PR rep and her best friend but I won’t allow her to make her make a mockery of herself and this agency again. Only way I’ll let her even show up to that award show is if you guarantee me she and that new guy make as big of headlines as the Royal Wedding and if she has absolutely zero contact with that dragon mother fucker’
“Don’t even worry I’m already way ahead of you on that…”
‘Meaning?’
“Meaning that since you’ve had me manage her social media that means I am in full control of her phone...”
‘Go on keep talking’
“And ‘dragon mother fucker’ for the past month and a half since they saw each other last, has been relentlessly trying to contact her so I’ve just--more or less been withholding that information from her and deleting the messages; hence the drunken meltdown, she thinks he’s completely forgotten about her”
‘You keeping secrets from her now?’
She could hear the amused grin spreading across his face.
“What she doesn’t know wont hurt her...besides her being this pissed at him will only make it easier for her not wanting anything to do with him at the award show or any time after that. If she thinks he just up and moved on with that girl he’s supposedly dating she has no choice but to swallow her pride and move on too; for good”
He chuckled ‘wouldn’t be show business if a little scheming wasn’t involved. I love it, keep her as far removed from him as possible, soon enough he’ll be nothing more than a memory; if we’re lucky he won’t be anything at all to her any time soon’
“We can only hope, and Suho is completely onboard with the idea so that’s another person in our corner”
‘The new boyfriend is even in on this?!’ he cackled ‘oh Saige, I knew you were the best of the best but this is just fantastic! But aren’t you scared of what she’ll do to you if she finds out this whole plan of yours?’
She bit her lip “I’ve thought about it--”
‘And?’
“And she might--no, she will hate me but it’s in her best interest. Besides he’s been helping keeping her distracted by taking her on dates and umm… keeping her physically entertained…”
‘She hates to work out, she likes this guy that much?’
“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve managed to become a multimillionaire with the things that come out of your mouth” she scoffed “sex Davis, I’m talking about sex!”
‘Oh! Well why didn’t you just say they’ve been fucking then?!’ he cackled again.
“Didn’t really think that’d be suiting conversation to have with my boss”
‘So what happened tonight then? Sex got stale all of a sudden?’ he chortled.
She made a eugh noise “oh no they had sex, multiple times so she said. She just came knocking on my room door saying that she couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother him and since the pubs stay open late here she said she just wanted to get a few drinks to maybe help her chill out and then two hours and three heart-shaped boxes of chocolates later and well here we are...she’s piss ass drunk throwing chocolates all over the place and yelling at denim advertisements”
‘Well aside from her drunken rampage it seems like you have things more under control that I thought. Keep it that way, and keep that dragon guy as far away from her as possible’
“Oh, believe me I plan to”
83 notes · View notes
dumbledearme · 5 years
Text
chapter four—a chipped cup
~~ read Swan Song here ~~
The Sheriff's death hits everyone pretty hard. Storybrooke isn't used to having to deal with loss, so for awhile people aren't quite sure of how to proceed. We hold a funeral for Graham first thing in the morning, and I'm glad to see that everyone has come to pay their respects, even the little kids, Eva and Nicholas, whom Graham had indeed help reunite with their parents. My mother sets a memorial for him near the police station. A street bench with his name on a plaque, no less.
The official cause of death determined by Dr. Whale is heart attack.
I'm to meet with Flynn at Granny's for lunch, so I take a quick shower (wash the grief off of me), put on some old jeans and T-shirt and hurry up there. As I'm about to turn the corner in the avenue, however, I hear his now familiar voice coming from a dark alley to my right. I come to a halt. He's talking to someone in hushed whispers.
"I think we should stop," Flynn is saying. "Lay low for a bit."
"No." I'm fairly certain the other voice belongs to his so-called partner, August. "It's time. She has to break the curse. She turns sixteen in two days. That's the only opening we'll ever have."
"You said all she needed to do was believe in it," Flynn says. His tone of voice is accusing. "She believes in it, August, and it still hasn't made a single difference. Now you're saying she has to have a birthday?"
"It hasn't made a single difference?" August repeats, sounding affronted. "Are you crazy? It's made all the difference in the world. People are starting to remember—"
"And they're being killed for it." Flynn's voice is cold now, hard. "The Evil Queen murdered the huntsman right in front of Hannah. If she starts to suspects us, if she feels threatened, what do you think she'll do?"
"That's why we need to get this over with as soon as possible."
"You don't play with a curse, August. Hannah's only safe for as long as Regina doesn't know who she is."
"Nobody else is safe while the curse is still in motion," August says fervently. "I don't need to tell you that, Bae."
There is a moment of silence in which I make my decision. I walk into the alley.
"What are you two going on about? Who's Bae?" Something tells me I've heard the name before.
"Shhh," says Flynn coming over to my side. He looks surprised to see me, but not angry that I've been listening in on them. "You can't be saying this name around here. It's not safe."
I try to assess if he's being serious. The conclusion is yes, he is. "Alright," I say. "I won't."
Flynn takes my hand. "Come on. Let's have lunch." He starts pulling me back toward the main street, but August calls my name, making us both stop.
"I have something you need to see," he tells me, after glancing sideways to his friend.
"No," says Flynn. He sounds like he's trying to keep his temper in check. I wonder what is putting him so on edge. Is it just what happened to Graham?
August is a much more patient man. "Why don't we show her and let her decide—"
"I said no." Flynn is firmer this time and August seems to rethink his strategy.
"Maybe another time then," he tells me, and then walks right past us into the main street and out of sight.
I look at Flynn. "Hiding stuff? That's kind of a deal breaker." He gives me one of his crooked grins and I know in my heart that there is literally nothing in the world he can do that will make me break up with him. My warning is utterly empty.
I don't know if Flynn can tell that or not, but he takes it lightly. "I have to keep my mysterious facade or you might get tired of me," he teases, squeezing my hand.
"Be serious," I say, but mostly because making out in a dark alley isn't really my thing so I need to break the spell. No pun intended.
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"Look…" he starts. "There are parts about the curse that even I don't understand."
"But the parts you do," I press. "I mean, from your little argument with your boyfriend, I gathered that you're certain my mother is the Evil Queen?"
Flynn pulls me toward the main street and I don't protest. "Who has cast the curse, yes," he says, ten steps later.
I try to keep up. "And she… she's really killed Graham? Why would she do that?" I know what his answer is going to be—because he started to remember who he was before—but I find that a little hard to believe. I am aware that my feelings might be blinding me to the truth—after all, she is my mother and do love her. If she's truly this monster I've been hearing about… well, I don't know how I feel about that. Are my feelings supposed to go away just like that? Should I hate her? Am I even capable of that?
The answer is... maybe. When I break it down, when I separate the good memories of my childhood to the things I'm learning about her, I think that 'maybe' is as close as I can get to an answer. If she is this Evil Queen then she has poisoned Snow White, she has cursed an entire kingdom, she has murdered countless people including Graham and her own father. When I think of her, my mother, I'm unable to spot the monster. But when I think of Graham…
"Look, you've read the book, right?" Flynn says. "You know she has only ever loved one person in her entire life."
I nod. "Daniel—the stable boy." Not me.
"Yes. So… I think that… honestly, Hannah, I think that there isn't a line she wouldn't cross."
I try to let that sink in. My mother. A killer. A monster. Graham… poor Graham. And Daniel… the only one she has ever loved. Not me. Daniel.
"How?" I'm whispering now. Not because I'm worried someone might overhear us, but because my own voice is failing me.
Flynn has a funny look on his face as if he's trying to decide how much of this I can take before I break. "She had his heart," he says. "She took it from him before the curse. I'm guessing she must've crushed it. It's kind of her thing."
Crushed his heart. A heart attack. I can't feel anything, he told me. Emptiness. His heart, crushed by her hand.
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As we reach Granny's, I try to shake these thoughts away. We pick a table near the door and Flynn orders some pancakes and two hot cocoas.
"Alright," I say after our orders have arrived. "And where exactly do I come in? I get that I'm supposed to be Snow White's kid, but…" I stop. I don't know how to finish that sentence.
"You are the only one who can stop her curse," Flynn tells me. "You are the savior, a product of true love. Long before you were born, someone prophesied your coming."
As I glance out the glass door, I see David Nolan talking to Ms. Blanchard in the street. They exchange a few words, secret smiles, and then he leaves. Ms. Blanchard stands there for a moment, watching him go. It is a pretty sad sight.
I stand up. "Give me a minute, will you," I say, and I leave before Flynn can reply. I head outside to meet Ms. Blanchard. She's not happy to see me there.
"You saw that, uh?" she mutters. "He comes here every morning to get coffee." She doesn't look very much like herself, I notice. I guess that's what happens when half of you gets taken away. She is wrecked because of David Nolan.
"For him and his wife," I remind her, not because I'm trying to be mean, but because I think love sometimes makes people forget right and wrong. I fear that Ms. Blanchard might not be seeing clearly and I would hate for her to do something she might regret later.
"I know." She sighs. "I know, I know. I just like to… to come here to see him."
I try to lighten the mood a little. "So… you're a stalker?"
"No, not really," Ms. Blanchard says quickly. Then she considers it. "Maybe a little bit. It's not like I'm following him. I just know that he spends his mornings with Kathryn, gets his coffee, then drives to the animal shelter and then he's home around 5h00."
"Is that all?"
"Thursdays they pick up Chinese for dinner."
"Oh my God." That makes me giggle. She's acting more like a schoolgirl than a teacher. She's acting worse than me and I've been feeling pretty struck down by love as well.
Ms. Blanchard is head over hills. It'd be really very adorable if it wasn't so terribly hopeless.
"I can't get him out of my head," she whispers, emotion pouring out with each word. "Love's the worst."
I can't agree more.
"Does anyone want to babysit for me?" someone moans from behind us. We look upstreet. Ashley is coming our way pushing her newborn baby girl on a stroller.
"Wow, Ashley, I didn't even recognize you," says Ms. Blanchard.
"With the baby on the outside?" Ashley rolls her eyes. "I swear, it's an improvement."
"No," says Ms. Blanchard with a smile. "I think you look well. Motherhood suits you."
I'm about to comment that I think she looks well, too, for a new baby mama, but someone else has joined our little group. Mr. Gold, carrying a big box in one hand, his walking stick in the other, and looking no less of a gecko than usual, stops in the sidewalk besides us. He gives us a few polite words before turning his full attention to me.
"I just wanted to offer my condolences," he tells me. "The Sheriff was a good man."
I don't understand why he should be offering his sentiments to me of all people, unless he should think I had a special connection with Graham because he died in my arms. The look on his face tells me this is something else, though.
I stop and take stock of the man before me. Mr. Gold, pawn shop owner, has a bad leg, wears striped suits, has a few gold teeth, owns the entire town. Who is this man? In the book, I mean, before the curse. What am I missing?
"Thank you for the kind words," I say lamely after my silence turns a little awkward.
"I have his things."
I blink. "What?"
"The Sheriff," Gold says moving the box he's holding into my line of vision. "He rented an apartment that I own. I thought I should offer you a keepsake."
I can feel Ms. Blanchard's curious eyes on me. "I don't need anything," I say, unsure of what the right answer to this situation might be.
"As you wish." Gold gives me a sly smile. "I'll give them to Mayor Mills. Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family."
His words chill me to the bone and the scariest part is that I think he knows it. I feel like he's playing me, testing me.
"I suppose that might include you as well, Miss Mills," he goes on. "My, you grew up so fast. I remember like it was yesterday when Madam Mayor brought you home, just a tiny little pink thing. I hope she has enjoyed her time with you. What we get to spend with our children… Let's just say time is a very precious thing. And the thing about children…" his eyes search mine, "before you know it, you lose 'em."
And then the voices do come.
Papa! We have to go through!
No! It's a trick. It'll tear us apart!
No, it's okay. I promise. Papa, you have to trust me!
I can't! I can't!
Papa, please! It's the only way we can be together!
I can't!
You coward! You promised! You can't break our deal!
I have to.
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Rumpelstiltskin.
A poor villager that injured his own leg so that he could go home instead of fighting in the Ogre war. Abandoned by his wife that was so very ashamed of his cowardice, he raised a son by himself. Years later, trying to spare his son from that very same war, he tries to escape but some soldiers stop him. Humiliated, he decides to seek a power so great nobody would ever dare look down on him again. He finds the Dark One, a terrifying entity with unmatched powers, wishing for his help, but the Dark One does him one better—he tricks Rumpelstiltskin into killing him thus making him the new Dark One.
With these great powers, great evil has followed. The son, Baelfire, did his best to keep his father from going dark, but Rumpelstiltskin was beyond salvation. Believing the only way to help his father was to remove his dark magic, Baelfire opens a portal to the world without magic. Rumpelstiltskin agreed to go with him, but he changes his mind in the last minute and Baelfire alone is sent across worlds, never to be found again.
The thing about children… before you know it, you lose 'em.
"Miss Mills, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things," Mr. Gold says, calling me back to the present. "Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more."
I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I know what's going on here. He is offering me something, a partnership of sorts. He wants an ally so he can beat the villain of this story—which I'm guessing must be my mother. But Gold is being cautious. I figure he doesn't want to go against Regina directly which is why he's coming to me.
I try to remember what else the book told me about these two. Rumpelstiltskin was imprisoned when the Evil Queen did cast her curse. However, if I'm not mistaken, she went to see him, just like Snow White did, after her first attempt to cast the curse had failed. She went to ask him why. And he told her… he told her that she had to make a great sacrifice; she had to kill the thing she loved the most.
But even before that there is something else. It was Rumpelstiltskin who originally discovered the curse. It was supposed to be the means through which he would be sent to the same land where Baelfire supposedly was. Since the sacrifice required by the curse was too great, Rumpelstiltskin needed someone else to cast it for him.
My mother. He played her. From the very beginning, he played her. Using a strand of hair from both Snow White and Prince Charming, he created a true love potion which he added to the curse scroll. That's what made Princess Odette the savior! It wasn't circumstantial—he made it all happen, he orchestrated everything! He created a loophole to his own curse.
But why?
He wanted to come here to find his son, but I'm guessing the curse would be trapping him in Storybrooke as much as the rest of us. So as of right now, he can't leave to look for his son. Unless… Unless I brake the curse? But that would mean that… that he is aware of where he is and who he is.
And, perhaps what is more worrisome, he is aware of who I am.
Can it be?
I stare at the man before me and I decide that it can. He stands tall, confident of the secrets he keeps. Here, in the land without magic, I guess that translates as his power over the rest of us—knowledge, awareness, remembrance. I ask myself if, ultimately, that doesn't make him a whole lot more dangerous than the Evil Queen.
"Thanks," I say weakly. "I'll remember that."
Just like I remember other things, Mr. Gold. Like the deal I already made with you. Sorry, but I'm not about to dig myself an ever bigger hole.
Flynn and I have a heavy afternoon dissecting what Mr. Gold's intentions might be. For some reason, the subject seems to make Flynn extremely uncomfortable. I get the feeling he doesn't like Gold very much. I don't blame him; I don't think I like him either.
He walks me home around sunset, just as Regina is arriving. I immediately let go of his hand, but from her expression, I can tell she's seen it. And she doesn't like it. However, she makes an effort to smile and greets Flynn politely.
She also invites him to dinner which I think it's a bit of a stretch. Thankfully, Flynn has some excuse ready—he is to meet with August back at Granny's.
"Pity," Regina says almost sounding like she means it. "Maybe some other time then."
Flynn wishes us a goodnight and starts heading back down the street. Regina doesn't bring up the subject during dinner or afterwards. She keeps our conversation light. She is in a good mood which makes me worry. When we have finished eating, she receives an unexpected call.
"I have to go downtown," she tells me when she's hung up. "I'll be back late."
"Why? What happened?"
"There's been a misunderstanding between Mr. Gold and Moe French earlier today," she tells me like it's not a big deal. "French owed Gold some money. When he failed to make the payment, Gold took his van. It seems Moe has decided to retaliate. That's what happens when you no longer have a sheriff in town." She mentions Graham lightly which makes my stomach churn.
I can't imagine what Moe French must've been thinking to go after Mr. Gold by himself. You don't have to know he used to be Rumpelstiltskin and the Dark One to fear him. But since time has started to move forward nothing has happened here without a deeper purpose. I should keep my eyes open.
After Regina leaves, I hurry up the stairs and into my room where I grab the fairy-tale book and start shuffling through the pages. Moe French must be someone who's had a connection with Rumpelstiltskin. But who? As the resident villain, Rumpelstiltskin went around making enemies everywhere. What could Moe French, a florist, have against him?
French. Florist. There is a connection I should be making, but my brain is too tired of theories of conspiracy for today. I close the book and put it aside. Maybe in the morning, I decide. I'll figure it out.
Unfortunately, I don't have the night's rest I've been hoping for. My dreams are dark and misty, filled with ogre wars and dark magic and betrayal. A beautiful girl in a yellow dress offers herself up to a beast with iron skin to save her kingdom. She lets a teacup fall on the ground, chipping it. She has the strange ability to see the beauty within.
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Any curse can be broken.
Who told you that? I knew this was a trick, that you could never care for me.
No! It was working. It means that it's true love.
Shut up!
Why can't you believe me?
Because no one, no one, can ever love me!
I wake up with a start but it isn't because of the voices in my head. There are voices in the real world, real voices from real people, and they're inside my house. I glance out the window; it's the middle of the night. What the hell is going on?
I get out of bed and slowly open my bedroom's door. The voices are clearer now. They come from the foyer downstairs. I think it's Regina arguing with someone. Barefoot, I go down the hall until I reach the base of the stairs. I can't see them from here, but I can hear them much better.
"You really wanted to get my attention, didn't you?" That can only be Mr. Gold. His tone is carried with bitterness and a certain degree of hostility.
"I tried talking to you yesterday," my mother says, nonchalant, "but you shut me down. This was the only way I could do it."
"You saw me have a row with Mr. French." It's not a question. "So what? You put him up to it? Told him to rob me?"
"I merely suggested that strong men take what they need," is my mother's boastful answer. So the commotion from before that she went to investigate has been something she planned? That actually makes more sense. Moe French doesn't seem the kind to take initiative.
"And you told him exactly what to take, didn't you?" Gold almost snarls. "Alright. When two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck. Do you have what I want?"
"Yes." I can hear the smile in her voice. Silence follows that. I assume that Gold is trying to come up with his next move. I feel like I'm hearing a game of chess unfold.
"You know what I want," Gold says. "What is it you want?" He tries to mask his interest, but both me and my mom pick up on that.
"I want you to answer one question. And answer simply." There is a pause. I edge further against the wall afraid to miss her next words. "What is your name?"
"It's Mr. Gold."
"Your real name."
Oh gosh. It is happening.
"Every moment that I've spent on this Earth that's been my name," Gold says, voice soft.
"But what about moments spent elsewhere?"
My heart starts hammering in my chest. I know what she is asking him. She wants to know, much like I do, if he is aware of the curse and of who he used to be before that. If she wants to know this it must be because she is picking up on the changes that have been occurring in Storybrooke. Maybe she knows now that time has moved forward. Maybe she knows that there is people trying to break her curse.
That cannot be good news.
When Gold doesn't answer, Regina presses on. "If you want me to return what's yours, tell me your name." She enunciates the words very carefully—a threat if I ever heard one.
There's a little intake of breath before the answer comes. "Rumpelstiltskin."
It's like the entire world has stopped turning. The name rings in my ears—I have never heard anyone say that aloud, much less mean it. But here it is proof of everything that has been going on in Storybrooke for the last two decades, straight from the horse's mouth.
I hear footsteps and try to focus back on what's going on downstairs. "Now give me what I want," Mr. Gold—or Rumpelstiltskin—growls.
My curiosity gets the best of me. Risking being discovered, I lean over the railing to spy on the two of them. They stand in the middle of the foyer facing each other. Gold's knuckles are white as he grips his walking stick with silent fury. My mother has a teasing grin on her face, like she feels this is some kind of victory. Reaching inside her coat's pocket, she pulls the last thing I expect to see: a simple, white teacup.
No, not a simple teacup—the chipped teacup from my dream.
All you have is an empty heart and a chipped cup.
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"Such hostility," Regina provokes the beast, waving the teacup in front of him, "over this. Such a sentimental little keepsake."
Mr. Gold takes it from her in one swift motion. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he barks. The use of her formal title makes her grimace like she finds it distasteful. "Now that we're being honest with each other," Gold goes on with much more confidence now that he has his item back, "let's remember how things used to be, shall we? I'm the one with the power around here. And nothing between us has changed."
Regina gets in his face, unaffected by his words. "We shall see." She makes a move toward the stairs and I run back to my bedroom before any of them can realize they've been overheard.
I am up and dressed before the sun has properly risen. I need to see Flynn straight away and tell him what happened here last night. Grabbing a piece of toast, I run out the backdoor and start hitting the pavement toward Granny's.
I don't get far. Near the edge of my street, I see the white-furred wolf. Graham's friend. I haven't seen it since the day Graham died; in fact, I had almost forgotten about it.
It hasn't forgotten me, it's clear. Come with me, it seems to whisper, just like it did that night. I'll take you where you want to go.
Who am I to argue with a wolf?
Putting aside my original intention, I bolt after the wolf. It guides me through the still dark forest. I don't much think about where its leading me. I guess I have learned to trust it.
I follow the wolf to the point where the intersection forks into two directions; I'm so busy trying to remember where either of these paths lead that I don't realize the wolf hasn't stopped to wait for me. It hastily followed the left path until it disappeared in the distance and I have to run after it otherwise all of this is for nothing. In my rush, it isn't until I'm lying flat on my back that I register I've ran right into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I mutter as a man struggles to sit down. I jump to my feet and hurry to pull him up by the arm. His neck cracks up and his eyes find mine. I'm looking straight into the face of the official town loony, the one and only who has managed to beat me to that title.
"No problem," he says as he straightens up. Then he gives me a long asserting look. "You're the Mayor's kid, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"What brings you out here this early?" He has a pretty face, square jaw and blue eyes. Considering everything else I've seen this week, he looks positively normal today.
"Oh… I was looking for a… a dog," I can't bring myself to say wolf. Ironically, I don't want the town loony to think I'm crazy.
"Well, I hope you find it. I'm Jefferson," he reaches out his hand and I, even though I'm familiar with the name and the person attached to it, shake it.
"Hannah."
"Do you want some tea?" he offers, sounding eager for some company. The saying about misery crosses my head. "I live just around the corner and after getting you covered in mud, I wouldn't dream of sending you home without drinking something warm. We don't want you catching anything, do we?"
The fact that he is referring to himself as two people should've put me on my guard, but he smiles so friendly and his touch is so warm that I can't find a good reason no to indulge the man. I let him lead the way. Jefferson chats animatedly as we walk. The trivial subjects seem to be just an excuse to keep him talking and it makes me wonder when was the last time he spoke to another person.
The house that reveals itself when we turn the corner isn't really a surprise, but its magnitude it's always awing. White, great and empty it looks a lot like my house if not for the fact that no one ever comes here. It is perhaps the best piece of real estate in Storybrooke and how it came to be in the hands of someone like Jefferson—who doesn't even seem to hold a job or anything—is the real mystery of this town.
It's colorful inside, tasteful—all of the houses in Storybrooke are. Ever since I was little it always seemed to me that the houses looked like they'd all been decorated by the same person because of how much alike they are. Must be the curse.
By the time Jefferson emerges from the kitchen with a tray, I'm actually longing for some tea as something to warm my hands with. The smell of chamomile fills the air as he pours the tea into two cups.
"Here," he says handing me a cup. I bask in the warmth of it before taking a big gulp; it tastes wonderful. "I brought you this," and he pulls a folded map from his back pocket. "I'm a bit of a amateur cartographer. Mapping the area is a hobby. Maybe it will help you track down your dog." He straightens the map on top of a grand piano and beckons me closer.
I'm immediately impressed with what I'm seeing. This map is the most detailed depiction of Storybrooke I have ever seen and I have seen my mother's maps. I wonder how long it has taken him to put all of this information together and how can he have pulled it off with the curse on full motion?
I trail my finger over the map. I can feel his eyes watching me, as if waiting for something, but my mind seems to be slowing down and I can't finish the thought. Something is wrong. The room has started to spin. I look at Jefferson beside me, searching his face for signs that he might think something is wrong too, but my eyes are blurry and I can't make out his face.
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"Something wrong?" his voice sounds very distant although he is standing right beside me.
"I feel a little…" I want to say 'dizzy', but my tongue feels like cotton. I stumble onto him and he grabs me with enough force to keep me standing. He pulls me toward the couch and sets me there.
The last thing I see is his bright blue eyes on me, and the sinister smile creeping on his face.
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