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sometimesrosy · 4 years

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i know what kind of the show the 100 is, but i really expect at least a good ending for bellarke and i hope your spec is right and we get some kind of that with them, in the past years shows did end in dissapointment, so i hope jason is in the group of 12 monkeys, bones, castle, shadowhunters, OUAT....

okay. but are you SURE you know what kind of show The 100 is?

What kind is it?

Yes, it’s the post apocalyptic sci fi action tragedy, but there are actually two kinds of post apocalyptic stories, the kind where there’s no hope and humanity is doomed and the kind where there IS hope and humanity can be saved.

This one is DEFINITELY the later. Hope is important in this show. THIS kind of pos apocalyptic story CAN have a happy ending, or at least a happy ending that costs a price, a bittersweet happy ending. JR has told us that there would be a “The 100 style” happy ending, and the last time he said that would happen was with one couple in s5, which we now know was Marper, who got to live their lives on their own terms, alone and without people, but in love and happiness and peace while guiding their people towards a new future. I suspect the ending of the series will *match* that description of a happy ending, but with Bellarke, who was HIGHLY mirrored with Marper in the finale of s5.

And seeing as our heroes have had a happy ending with a cost every single season, what we’re watching is a story where there is hope. And *probably* hope for Bellarke.

But. I see that you aren’t really concerned with the story, you’re concerned with if Clarke and Bellamy get together, and this, to you is what’s in doubt, because you’re looking for a romance novel, or bellarke fic or something.

For you, the story ending in disappointment is the story not ending with Bellarke romantically together with a kiss/confession/sex. Or at least that’s what is seems to me, because as I’m watching, I have not felt denied bellarke since season 2. S1 I didn’t ship them yet, not really. S2 gutted me when she left because of bellarke. S3 they were together and closer than ever, S4 okay i was gutted when she was left behind, but had hope for bellarke with the 2199 radio calls. S5 I was not disappointed with bellarke because of that last part of the finale. S6 was so freaking romantic and ended, for all intents and purposes, with that romantic, intimate bellarke hug in the sunrise, so to me, it was clearly romantic bellarke, even without an official kiss(apparently kiss of life doesn’t count)/confess (apparently all the conversation of love and care and pledges not to leave or let each other die, or the confession that he needs her don’t count)/sex.

This is why I ask if you do know what kind of story this is. Because you are acting like my spec about bellarke is based in my personal feelings and not the development of the narrative that I’ve been following, but I don’t know if you have, or you’d see that bellarke is already a romantic story, and has been since AT LEAST season 5, when bellarke shippers abandoned the show because b/e existed, instead of recognizing a canon love triangle when they see one. (I will admit that this has been what has made me most frustrated with the Bellarke fandom. They’re giving us what we want and we’re acting like it’s not happening in canon on screen.)

Like my “spec” is pretending there’s a love triangle, or the love triangle is just an interpretation rather than written in the script, the direction, the cinematography and the acting.

I cannot tell you if JR will back out of the bellarke love story or not, because I am not in control of what another person creates, but I can tell you that the story of The 100 has been an epic love story, truly from season 1, because it has been about GROWTH, but as a main plot line from season 5, or the end of s4 when he left her behind.

If you say you know what kind of story The 100 is and you don’t recognize the actual romantic story of Bellarke, then you don’t know what the story is.

This is not fanon. This is canon. It’s not my speculation. It’s the narrative. JR has called it an epic love story. He has told us it would happen eventually. He has said they were soul mates. He has said they love each other. And the story he is telling has them revolving around each other closer and closer until they connect.

When I speculate that the story might be following the structure of The Divine Comedy, with the Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise, giving us the darkest moments in the beginning and ending up NOT a tragedy, that’s a speculation that is based on a remarkable similarity to the narrative and also literal allusions to the text and a painting we stared at in TWO seasons to point out the connection and character names like Dante and Blake to make the connections. So yeah. I’m speculating on the theme of the story that won’t, perhaps, be clear until the end, but it’s less a speculation and more a theory-- a theory has evidence to support it while a speculation doesn’t necessarily.

There IS a point to the story, though. He’s told us there is. And it will be clear at the end. What I’m saying is that in order to tell a good story, he needs to incorporate that point into the whole story so we can follow along and it will all add up at the end. So I’ve been looking for those breadcrumbs that tell us where it’s going. This is what I do, and I’m pretty good at it. Finding those clues. I know not everyone knows how to do that, and I know a lot of people have been gaslighted by those who have been telling us Bellarke is not romantic or not the central relationship, or not the heroes, or are actually the bad guys, or are unimportant etc.

Back in season 3 after Hakeldama, I wrote a meta theorizing that this whole story was about Clarke and Bellamy coming together. That in order to succeed, they must be together. It was based on some significant evidence from the first 2.5 seasons, but it has been proven correct in the following 3.5 seasons. This show is DEFINITELY about bellarke, the head and the heart, being TOGETHER and saving the world. There were points where it could have been a sun/moon story, never getting together. There were points where it could have remained platonic with no romantic connection. Those points have all been passed now, and they MUST be together and it is ALREADY romantic, so the eventual COMPLETE union of Bellarke is going to be romantic. They are already married, imo, committed, pledged, intimate, loving, devoted, respecting, trusting, and the ONLY thing separating them from what fandom wants is the physical. Because it has already moved into the romantic (EVERY love triangle is a romantic story, even for the losing couple, it’s still a romantic story, therefore, in the IMPOSSIBLE event that bellamy choses Echo over Clarke, it’s still romantic, just a broken hearted romance without the necessary genre happy ending,) it is no longer a platonic relationship.

What I CAN’T do is tell you how it’s going to end. If Bellarke will live or die. They might die and that’s always been a possibility that I’ve said for the end of the series. Here are the possibilities i can see for a Bellarke ending. In all but one (very unlikely possibility) Bellarke are kiss/confess/sex canon romantic, even if they don’t get a happy ever after.

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, raise a family and a peaceful society with their friends. (Happy Ever After ending common in the romance genre.)

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, have a family and life with their friends but there are more struggles coming, like maybe another apocalypse or political upheaval or violence. (Happy For Now ending also common in the more ‘realistic’ romance genre or romantic stories.)

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, have a family.... but not with their friends who are left behind to create the peaceful society. (Marper ending, The 100 Style Happy Ending, as described by JR. Bittersweet. This is the one I think is most likely in some ways.)

Bellarke dead, together romantically before they die, their family and friends go on without them to create a peaceful society. (Happy Ever After for humanity, but not for Bellarke. Bittersweet. A Romeo and Juliet ending, and though Bellarke has never been framed as R&J it’s possible. This could happen. The sooner they get together romantically in season 7 the more likely they won’t get a happy ending.)

Bellarke together romantically, but Clarke dies saving them, and Bellamy carries on in her absence, broken, perhaps eventually settling for Echo, or perhaps not. He creates a peaceful society for their friends in her name. (this is Happy Ever After for humanity, but a tragedy for Bellarke. I believe this was the ending of s4, and I think it’s developed past that so I don’t think it will happen.)

Bellarke together romantically, but Bellamy dies saving them, and Clarke carries on in his absence. The only way I think this could happen is if she has his baby, so carries him with her. She creates a peaceful society for their friends and her children in his name. (Happy Ever After for humanity, but a tragedy for Bellarke. This was the ending of s4 for Clarke with Madi as the substitute child. I believe we’ve developed past that so I don’t think it will happen.)

Bellarke together platonically... i do not think this can happen, it would have to RETURN to platonic partnership, because we’ve left platonic, but let me explore it. Clarke would need to give up Bellamy to Echo because it was “the right thing to do” and Bellamy would need to stay with Echo because it was “the right thing to do,” and neither of them would make the claim on the other. But I believe part of the journey of s6 was about Bellamy CHOOSING Clarke because he loves her. It’s part of the narrative. So he’s already chosen her, so something would have to happen to reverse that decision and I don’t know what it could be. Clarke looks like she’s ready to wait for him. I don’t think this story would have them together platonically with Bellamy sacrificing his happiness being with Echo, who is Ash and doesn’t want to be king/spy anymore, and leaving Clarke pining for her soulmate. That’s a bad story because there’s no reason for them to not admit they love each other. Staying with Echo because he promised is a bad reason and disrespectful to all involved. But okay. Bellamy chooses Echo and Clarke eventually finds someone else and they lead a peaceful society without fully engaging the heart. Oh that doesn’t make sense. They’re the head and the heart. That would not be living up to what Monty asked of them. No it doesn’t work. This ending is already off the table, sorry. Unless JR really is the asshole that you all think he is. If it happens, I’ll admit that you were right and he’s a dick as bad as D&D. But if it doesn’t happen, then y’all need to go apologize to JR for doubting him and hating him and calling him evil and a bad writer.

Where I am now, I think the most likely is a mix of the above. I think the bittersweet ending will include a happy ever after for Bellarke, like Marper, as they are separated from their friends and family and assumed dead. So Bellarke will die together saving their people, but they won’t die, rather they will be separated from them so they can have their happy ending although it is alone and they’ve lost everyone they love, except each other. It fits the narrative, the circular storytelling, the bellarke mythos, the breaking of the cycle, clarke and bellamy’s characters, the sacrifice theme, the head and the heart, the marper foreshadowing, “together,” wanheda, the survival plot twists where we think they’re dead but they’re not, soulmates, the bittersweet endings, the victory but with a price, etc.

#the 100 #the 100 style happy ending #bittersweet #series finale spec #bellarke #together

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holidaywishes · 4 years

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The Light Beyond The Stars III

part iii: there is magic in you...

Summary of series: When Malcolm is young, he dreams of a place where he could run off to and leave his life behind. When he meets Cassandra, his perspective changes and his dreams only include her.

Summary of Chapter: Cassandra’s P.O.V when she meets with Malcolm in the square and the events that follow.

Warning: adding in some angst because that’s my jam, and some more fluff

Author’s Note: First, I wanted to say that this is a little longer than the last because it’s combining Cassandra’s P.O.V. as she’s waiting for Malcolm and what happens when she leaves him/her leaves her. Second, like I mentioned in my last chapter, I’m really enjoying writing this story and I know that it’s a giant departure from the fics I typically write, i.e. it has nothing to do with hockey (maybe I should start tagging not hockey?) That being said, I’m not sure if anyone is reading it but, honestly, I just want it to exist in the universe. If for no other reason than it makes me happy. Also, I want to point out, if anyone does read this series eventually, that I know the voice that I’m using for Malcolm doesn’t sound like the Peter we all know from OUAT and that’s done purposefully. Once he becomes Peter, I’ll be able to add in all the sass but right now, he’s just a kid whose kinda falling for a girl right now, so there has to be some softness to him. The idea is, as sadistic as this sounds, he’ll have so much love in his life and then lose it so suddenly, that he becomes cold and dark. I hope that whoever reads this, or comes across it, likes it and enjoys it. But know that, if you don’t, I will love you anyway. 😘

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Cassandra’s P.O.V

You waited for what seemed like hours in the square where you and Malcolm first met but when he never showed, you started to wonder if he was lost. Or if he wasn’t going to show.

“Cass?” your cousin asked as she noticed you standing in the same spot she left you nearly an hour ago, “what’s wrong?”

“Anthea? I thought you’d gone... you should go..” you answered

“I was going to leave but I came back and you were still here... What are you doing?”

“I’m.. waiting”

“Waiting for what? For who?”

“Go home, Anthea”

“This is about that boy isn’t it?”

“Anthea..”

“The boy who came over for tea last night”

“You weren’t even supposed to be there”

“He didn’t even know I was there”

“Luckily,” you snapped, making her gasp at your words, “Anthea, he doesn’t know who we are and you don’t exactly have the best track record with mortals. Or immortals for that matter. He’d just think you were rude and crass”

“I am rude”

“Maybe I don’t want him to think you are...”

“Why not?”

“Because.. I don’t know. Just go home, Anthea.”

“Home home or back to the small stone place you’re staying in home”

“Either one”

“Did he stand you up?”

“No”

“Was this supposed to be a date?”

“No”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now go”

“If he doesn’t get here in.. 10 minutes, I’m taking you home”

“He’ll be here”

“Did you see it?”

“Are you asking if I looked into the future just to see if he’d be here? Because that would be ridiculous”

“So you did?”

“No I did not!”

“I’ll just be over there.. waiting and watching.” You watched as your cousin sat at a table nearby, dismissing the girl who attempted to serve her, making you roll your eyes at her. You paced around the spot for a few more minutes before you’d decided that he wasn’t going to come, you began the pathetic walk back to your cousin when you heard the clacking of horseshoes get closer and closer to you

“CASSANDRA!” you heard a voice call to you, looking back you saw Malcolm on a white horse, “wait!” he called again, jumping down from the horse to speak to you

“Malcolm?” you questioned as you took in what was in front of you, “what is this?”

“We have to go, we have to hurry..” he answered but it only left you more confused

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Get on the horse” he said forcefully, causing you to step back in concern

“Malcolm!” you shouted, hoping to get him to see why you were upset

“I’m sorry, I’ll explain once we get moving... Please, we have to go...” he pleaded and you reluctantly agreed, glancing over to where Anthea had been sitting and noticing she had already left

“Okay, fine..” you smiled at him, “but I’m trusting you, Malcolm, so you better not let me fall.” You laughed as did he, agreeing as he helped you up onto the horse. He quickly hopped onto after he made sure you were on securely, but without a saddle that was hard to confirm for him, so when he positioned himself behind you and grabbed the reins, he made sure to keep his arms close to your body so you wouldn’t fall as the horse galloped along a rugged path to Malcolm’s cottage. “So...” you finally broke the silence, “why did we have to hurry?”

“Francis..” he said simply, waiting for a moment until he spoke again, “he doesn’t know I left but I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to see you...”

“You could get in trouble!” you replied, worried that he was risking his safety because of a note you’d written him on a whim

“I didn’t want you to think I would hurt you” he said sweetly, if not a little harshly but you attributed that to the bumps on the path

“So you stole a horse to come see me?” the sentiment was sweet and you wanted him to know that you thought so, letting your voice soften with the realization of what he’d done

“Borrowed,” he corrected you with a small smile that you’re not sure he meant for you to see, “he’ll never know the horse was gone.” You looked back at Malcolm, noticing him try to contain his smile and concentrate on the path, his seriousness making you giggle. The sound of your laugh must have caught his attention because he glanced down at you and you smiled back at him, losing yourself in his eyes before you felt the horse veering off the path

“Look out!” you shouted, causing Malcolm to jerk the reins and straighten the horse to the path, you both breathed deeply while he composed himself

“Are you alright?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward and, again, you smiled at his seriousness

“Yes,” you said softly, “are you?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his voice shaking slightly, “just got a little distracted I guess.” Since the rest of the journey was spent in silence, the latter half of the horse ride felt like it lasted an hour and was beginning to feel awkward when you pulled up in front of a small, brown and white cottage with a small, tattered red barn off to the side. He slowed the horse to a stop and hopped off first so he could help you down, you swung your leg over to the side and pushed yourself off of the steed, Malcolm’s hands firmly placed on either side of you to ease you to the ground. “Come with me” he whispered, hunching his back low and gestured for you to do the same

“Where are we going?” you said at speaking volume to which Malcolm put his finger in front of his lips to shush you

“Quietly,” he smiled before pointing in front of him, “we’re going to the barn.” You nodded once to confirm that you’d heard him and followed him to the old, red barn where no animals seemed to be housed. When the two of you finally got inside, you looked around at the empty stalls and up to the roof, noticing a hole and thought ‘that’s odd’ to yourself. He led you up a ladder to a spot under that hole and you sat down on the surprisingly cold wood floor with your back against a bale of hay, looking for a blanket to throw over your legs with no luck.

“You should really get that fixed” you whispered to Malcolm who hadn’t come to sit with you yet, jokingly referring to the hole in the roof

“Oh what fun would that be?” he joked back, finally making his way to sit next to you.

“What if it rains?” you asked, staring up at the sky knowing that it wouldn’t rain but also knowing that your grandfather was likely watching your every move

“We move to the side” he chuckled, pointing at a spot just to the left of you that was out of reach of the hole in the roof

“Ahh I see” you smiled, scoffing slightly when you realized he’d been out here enough to know how to get away from the rain; you smiled to yourself quietly and leaned back against the bale of hay once more, staring up at the stars

“There are a million worlds out there..” he said, surprising you with his words and you turned your head to look at him, your eyes dancing between his and waiting for him to continue

“What?” you said, smiling at him

“In the stars...” he replied, his eyes searching your face for a reaction, “there’s a million worlds in the stars...” he turned his eyes away from yours, turning them toward the sky as he pointed at the stars

“You really think so?” you asked, wondering how he’d proceed

“I do...” he said softly, keeping his eyes on the sky, “and I think I’ll go to one someday. Get away from everything here...”

“Can I go with you...?” you asked, sitting up and turning your body to him, your knee grazing his as you angled your legs

“Of course!” he exclaimed, turning his own body to face you, “we can dream up one together...”

“And what will this world have?” you smiled

“Anything you want, that’s the best part about it.” He explained, “If you think it, you can have it.”

“So it’s... a magic world?” you said, contemplating what that meant to you and what that would mean for him. You’d lived in a magic world your entire life. You knew the dangers that came along with it, especially when mortals were involved.

“It will have magic but it will just be a wonderful place.” he corrected, “A lovely place where anything is possible”

“Will it have mermaids?” you asked happily

“If you wish” he replied

“Pirates?”

“Sure”

“Will we be able to fly?”

“Yep” he laughed as he nodded happily

“Fairies?”

“How else would we fly?” his smile beamed across his face, making your heart flutter ever so

“Pixie Dust!” she laughed, “how do we get to this place?” You watched as he leaned back against the bale of hay, following his lead and settling in beside him as he lifted his arm to the sky; you followed his arm with your eyes while he pointed at the Northern Star.

“See that bright star on the left?” he asked and you nodded, feeling his eyes on you as you watched the stars

“That’s how we get there?”

“No that’s too obvious,” he laughed, “we’ll take the second star to the right”

“And straight on ‘til morning” you said under her breath, feeling like you’ve heard of these directions before

“Exactly” he replied softly and you smiled in return

“So what should we call this new world?” you coaxed, trying to think of a name, “The Far Away Place?”

“No” he stated bluntly and you laughed, shaking her head in agreement

“Hmm.. The Enchanted.. something?” you laughed at your own inability to finish your thought scrunching up your nose when he tilted his head at the unfinished name

“How about.. Neverland?” he said simply and you pondered the name for a moment

“Neverland?” you asked, a small laugh starting on your tongue, “I like it. but why Neverland?”

“Because,” he said, “the best part of this new world is that we’ll never grow old!”

“Never?” you asked, the small laugh you’d had earlier all but vanishing from your face

“Never,” he exclaimed, “we’d stay young forever!”

“But what about... friends and family. The people we care about? The ones who don’t go to Neverland?”

“What do you mean?” he questioned, furrowing his brow as your concerns grew and you turned your body from him

“They will grow old and we’ll just have to watch?”

“Well...” he stumbled over his thoughts, not knowing what to say

“Or what about... falling in love?” you whispered softly, trying not to let the sadness be too obvious on your voice, “if we never grow up, will we never fall in love?” The words left your tongue as if you were talking about you and Malcolm but you’d hoped he wouldn’t read too much into it.

“I don’t think so,” he stuttered, furrowing his brow occasionally as he thought, “I mean.. you can fall in love when you’re young.” You thought about it for a moment, pursing your lips as you thought about what to say

“I suppose,” you replied, “it sounds like a lovely place, Malcolm. I hope we can go there one day.” The idea that he didn’t want to grow old affected you more than you thought it would but you weren’t entirely sure why; maybe it was because you hadn’t known true love yet, maybe it was because the idea that you would outlive people you cared about was a reality you’d already had to live with and something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Especially Malcolm.

“Who’s there?” Malcolm called, bringing you out of your thoughts

“It’s just me,” a small voice came after a shuffle in the barn, whispering to Malcolm as she climbed up the ladder, “I’m sorry. I heard you two from outside...”

“Who’s this?” you asked, noticing the girl hide behind the corner when she finished climbing the ladder

“This is Charlotte,” Malcolm answered, introducing the girl, “Francis’ daughter”

“He’s like my big brother” Charlotte mused, smiling as you made your way over to introduce yourself

“Hi Charlotte,” you spoke lightly, as to not frighten the young girl, kneeling down so she could see your eyes, “I’m Cassandra. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Wow...” she gasped, letting her mouth drop as her eyes searched yours and examined your face, “you’re like an angel...”

“Thank you” you giggled at her response before looking back at Malcolm and smiling as he shrugged at the girls words

“Malcolm told me you were beautiful,” she continued, “but I didn’t think you’d be this beautiful.”

“You said I was beautiful?” you asked Malcolm, heat flooding your cheeks in a blush that you would later see Malcolm attempt to hide. Charlotte guiding you back to the bale of hay where Malcolm sat and she squeezed herself between you and him before looking up at the stars.

“I may.. have mentioned...” he stuttered, turning his head and you smiled

“Well...” you started, leaning down to Charlotte, “I think you’re quite beautiful too, you know?”

“You do?” Charlotte gasped, shock consuming her tone

“Mhmm,” you hummed, smiling sweetly when Malcolm turned back to you, watching you speak to Charlotte with poise, “and you want to know why?” The young girl nodded her head frantically before giggled, “I can see your heart.”

“My heart?” Charlotte asked, creasing her forehead as she tried to understand what you meant. You glanced at Malcolm before you explained, wanting to see his face as well.

“Yes. You have a kind soul and a pure heart. My mother taught me to see those things. My father taught me that those things hold value and they make a person so much more beautiful than the way they look,” you mused, remembering the stories that your mother and father had told you so many years ago. “that’s why my father says he fell in love with my mother. Because he saw her heart beyond her beauty.”

“Can you see Malcolm’s heart and soul?” she asked, looking up at you with a glimmer in her eyes that you’d only ever seen once before, from Malcolm when you first met. You looked at Malcolm for a moment, trying to find the glimmer in his eyes once more, smiling when you finally saw it again

“I can,” you said softly, “and he has a kind soul too.”

“And my heart?” he asked abruptly but not rudely

“Is pure,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows once before continuing, “though it’s tough. As though, you’ve made it.. impenetrable. That does not mean it’s unbreakable...” You expected him to drop his eyes at this statement but he continued to look at you, studying you as you inhaled sharply

“Because of his father...?” Charlotte added, breaking the silence that had fallen over the three of you

“His father?” you asked, looking down at her but keeping an eye on Malcolm

“He sold Malcolm to my father... when he was just a boy” she said and Malcolm finally dropped his head, staring at his feet

“Ahh I see...” you continued, letting your gaze rest solely on Charlotte now, “that could have something to do with it. Although, I suspect him wanting to run away has more to do with that than wanting anyone to be gentle with his heart.”

“Can I go to Neverland too?!” Charlotte exclaimed, rather suddenly. Malcolm’s eyes tore away from you to look at the young girl

“What?” he said

“I heard you talking about that magic land. About Neverland. About running away there. Can I go too?”

“Of course you can!” Malcolm’s face was beaming with the idea of the three of you starting over in Neverland but your broke at the thought of this beautiful child not getting a chance at a beautiful life.

“But, Charlotte,” you interrupted, “are you sure you want to go somewhere where you’ll never grow up?”

“I like being 10″ she giggled and you smiled, dropping your head with a small sigh

“But don’t you want to get married and be a mother?” you continued

“Well.. maybe one day..” you could see that she was confused because she didn’t quite know how to respond just yet. You knew that to her being a mother, a wife, was something she’d find someday, maybe by her own hand or the hand of her father, but she was so young to give it up just yet.

“If you never grow old, you may...” you began, catching a glimpse of Malcolm’s face that caused you to rethink what you’d been saying, “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t be.. I really should be getting home. My father will worry if I get home too late.”

“How will you get back?” Malcolm asked, standing up the same moment you did

“I will.. I’ll walk...” you stammered

“I can take you,” he said, “the same as we came.”

“I don’t want you to get into any trouble. You already risked yourself by bringing me”

“If you go walking outside, this late, you may run into trouble,” he said, his hand soon resting atop yours, “and I don’t want you getting hurt.” You smiled at him, the both of you forgetting Charlotte was there for a moment until she spoke

“Go. Quickly.” she said, bringing you and Malcolm back to reality, “if father wakes up, I’ll keep him away from the horses. Go. Now. Quickly!” Charlotte shooed both of you away and made your way as quietly down the ladder and through the barn as you could, letting Malcolm untie the horses while you said goodbye

“It was lovely to meet you Miss Charlotte” you whispered

“You as well Miss Cassandra, I hope to see you again.” she replied and soon you joined Malcolm, hopping onto the horse and waiting for Malcolm to jump behind, keeping your eyes focused on the path while the horse galloped quickly to get you home. Finally, you arrived in front of the home you shared with your father and Malcolm jumped down from the horse, once again helping you down quietly.

“Thank you for being so sweet to Charlotte,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I know she can be a bit.. nosy”

“She was a darling. Very sweet girl. And I meant what I said. About the both of you,” you replied, continuing only when you noticed him furrow his brow slightly, “your hearts are both pure and your souls are kind. You have goodness in you and... something else too”

“You’re talking in rhymes” he laughed but your smile was weak and insincere as you checked back to make sure your father hadn’t come outside yet

“There is magic in you, Malcolm. Magic I hope you learn to use properly. To coincide with the good that I know is in you because I see it so clearly. The good in you. The magic in you.

“Cassandra!” you heard your father bellow from the doorway, leading you to snap your eyes shut at the anger in his voice, “Inside. Now!”

“I hope to see you again, Malcolm. Get home safe.”

“And you, Cassandra.” He said softly as he watched you make your way up to where your father stood. Your attempt at trying to wave goodbye to him was foiled by your father’s dismissal of the boy. He directed you inside and scowled at you as you listened to the sound of the horse ride off in the distance.

“Cassandra!” your father yelled, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing!” You shouted back, “we were talking and looking at the stars!”

“Looking at the stars?” he asked, disgusted at the activity

“How mortal...” Anthea said as she appeared from around the corner, “the whole thing is so mortal, Uncle Apollo...”

“Anthea not now” he argued

“I thought you were going home?” you seethed

“You told me to go to either home,” she smirked, “so I came here. I wanted to hear all about your date, I just didn’t expect you to be so late.”

“It wasn’t a date” you countered

“Cassandra, you know you cannot change this boys fate” your father stated, moving closer toward you

“I’m not trying to change his fate!” you yelled

“Aren’t you?” Anthea chided, “what was it you were telling him outside? That there was good in him? Magic even?”

“You cannot tell mortals that there is magic in them.. They cannot know it exists”

“They already know it exists!”

“What do you mean?” Your father asked, narrowing his eyes at you

“He knows about Neverland,” you sighed heavily when both his and Anthea’s eyes widened at you, “I didn’t tell him. He already knew about it. And yes. Fine. I told him there was magic in him. That there was good in him. But I didn’t tell him what he could do with any of it!”

“That’s not the point Cassandra!” your father hissed, towering over you with each angry word he spoke to you, “we have the gift of sight. Of Prophecy. It is a burden that we have been entrusted with. You cannot use it to make the boy you love stay good!”

“I’M NOT!” you yelled, the anger boiling below your surface causing tears to brim your eyes, “I believe in him, papa, is that so wrong? I want him to know that he doesn’t have to go down that dark path. And he won’t, if he’s given a chance”

“You can’t provide that path for him, little one,” he said gently, placing his hand on your shoulder to calm you, “he needs to find his own path. To find his own light, not the light that you show him”

“I’m not trying to tric--” you started, stopping suddenly to bring up what he had said, “the boy I love?”

“What?” he and Athea said together and you furrowed your brow

“You said I can’t use our gift to make the boy I love.. stay good” you said to your father

“I--” he stammered

“I never said I loved him”

“But you do, don’t you?” Anthea added, “I saw the way your heart broke when you thought he wasn’t going to show...”

“I do love him,” you said, “but I never said I did”

“I’m not blind, Cassandra, and I think you forget, my sister is the Goddess of Love.”

“And what would she have told you of this mortal and I?”

“That you loved him!” he defended

“No,” you countered, moving toward him, “no, she wouldn’t have come to you just to tell you that ‘your favourite daughter was in love’ she would have said that you needed to stop me from falling for a mortal. From making the same mistake you did”

“You’re going to get hurt, Cassandra,” he shouted, “mortals think they know everything. Think they can handle anything. But they find out about us and they run away. He will run away if he finds out about who we are.”

“He’ll say you lied. That you kept secrets from him. He’ll never trust you again” Anthea snarled

“There’s nothing that says he has to find out. I love him but I am willing to put his future before mine”

“It’s not fair, my love, to him,” he said, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same, “you know his future. You know his choices. He won’t know yours. Loving him and him loving you is not fair to him.”

“I haven’t looked at his choices or his future since I met him. Since I saw him.”

“But you knew it without looking,” Anthea added from where she sat, shrugging when you scowled at her, “that’s the point”

“Papa, please,” you pleaded, “what are you going to do?”

“Me?” he said, “nothing. Unless you lead me to it. No, I won’t do anything and neither will you”

“What?” you exclaimed

“You cannot see him anymore”

“Father, please”

“Enough,” he stated, standing up, “you are not to see this boy anymore!”

“Papa” you pleaded weakly

“Cassandra, there are rules,” he stated, “we are immortals, this boy is a mortal”

“So am I. I’m like him. Part mortal” you said, beginning to sob

“BUT YOU ARE ALSO MY DAUGHTER!” he yelled, the house shaking as the lights rose and fell with his voice, “and you will do as I say.” You wiped away the tears from your eyes and sniffling as you looked up at him, a rage burning inside you like you never felt, and smiled

“Would this have worked if someone told you to stay away from my mother? Or the Cassandra who broke your heart?”

“No but you are not me and you are not them”

“You can’t forbid from seeing him, father”

“I can and I did”

“Why?” you whined

“Because, Cassandra,” he said, seething as he stopped toward you, “he is not like us. You need to choose your family over a love you will never have!” It was all he needed to say for your heart to break and for your mind to rage. You nodded, inhaling deeply before walking away and locking yourself in your room.

“Cass?” Anthea called, “we’re just looking out for you. Doing what’s best. You have to understand that.” Answering her meant nothing at this point so you stayed silent as tears fell down your cheek and you swept away the roof above you so you could look at the stars. Imaging your own version of running away.

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hookaroo · 5 years

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Vocivore, Ltd. (15 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ack I need to update there!) (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******

****NEW!!!!!!!!!!!! Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!*************

Present (Wednesday, continued)…

Jones got as far as the medical unit hallway, Killian’s open door in sight, before hesitating. He wanted to help, he wanted updates on his friends… but maybe his presence would be more disruptive than it was worth. Would it be too stressful for Emma to have her husband’s doppelganger nearby while she tried to process his condition? Not to mention the worry over her father and the worse, ever-present terror of missing Hope… she wouldn’t want him there, surely. She would feel remorseful, being reminded of his injuries; he should just go, and wait to be contacted with news and requests for help.

His abrupt about-face set him squarely in the path of a grim-faced Whale. With a sheepish nod of apology, Jones stepped to the side, intending to let the physician pass. But instead, Whale stopped, looking him over with a critical eye.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“Er, well, I’m not actually… I’m… I’m not that Killian.” He waved in the direction of the deputy’s room and felt a vague sense of the knots holding his arm together, though the majority of the pain was still being kept in check by the nerve block.

“Obviously,” snarked Whale. “But you still look like you’re about to collapse on my linoleum. Why aren’t you down in the ED?”

“I was released,” Jones informed the self-important man. “All fixed up.”

Whale looked doubtful, but he came to the obvious conclusion regarding why the detective was here rather than on his way home. “You wanted to see Hook?”

Jones rolled his eyes and nodded. The physician pursed his lips in thought.

“I don’t know that you qualify as family, even though technically, I guess you share the same DNA…”

“I’m here more in an official capacity,” countered Jones, deciding to go in after all. He’d come this far; he wouldn’t be intimidated away by Dr. Whale.

With an annoyed shrug, the physician relented. “Whatever. Come on, then. If you do feel faint, try not to pass out near anything that might split your head open.” He pushed past and headed for Killian’s room. Jones followed cautiously.

Killian lay unconscious amidst a tangle of equipment, looking shockingly corpse-like. Blankets and bandages covered the worst of his injuries, and most of the grime had been removed, which only served to highlight the colorlessness of whatever skin remained free of cuts, abrasions, or bruising. The absence of the collar was a major improvement, but the dramatic wasting of his flesh gave the impression that he suffered a terminal illness. Technically, Jones mused, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

Emma sat beside the bed, sandwiching her husband’s skeletal hand between both of her own, simply watching the rise and fall of his chest. She tensed as the two men entered, looking immensely sad and weary. Her only acknowledgement of Jones was a brief glance in his direction, a quick sweep of her gaze assessing his well-being, and then she turned her attention back to Whale. The physician stopped at the foot of the bed while an awkward Jones hung back near the doorway.

“Still waiting for confirmation on the MRI,” Whale began without preamble. “But from my interpretation, I’d say he’s not as far gone as I had expected, given how long he’s been enslaved. Definitely some signs of deterioration, but with rest and support, he may recover on his own, or at least remain stable until we figure out an effective treatment.”

Emma looked as if she were about to say something, but Whale continued his spiel.

“As you might expect, his blood work is all over the place; lots of organs showing signs of stress. He’s anemic, which we’re obviously going to attribute to blood loss, so we’re working to correct that…”

Still feeling slightly uneasy about listening without an express invitation, Jones broke in,

“You could give him some of my blood, if that would help anything.”

He caught a small flash of gratitude from Emma before Whale fixed him with a derisive look.

“You’re not that far from needing a transfusion yourself.”

“Wake him up.”

The physician turned his startled gaze back on Emma. “What?”

“I want you to wake him up.”

Whale frowned. “That’s not a good idea. The victims that stayed sedated seemed to--”

“He might know something about Hope,” Emma stated flatly, emotions carefully under control. “Wake him up.”

Dr. Whale stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Be right back.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence in the physician's absence. Despite feeling like he might need to take a seat soon, the light-headed Jones remained where he was, watching Emma watch Killian. He drew a breath to speak, changed his mind, then changed it back.

“You okay?”

Emma nodded a lie, not looking at him. “You?”

“Fine.” He let his own falsehood stand for a beat, hesitated, then asked, “And… David? Have you heard…?”

“Looks like he’ll pull through.” Emma rubbed a hand down her face, adding, “The sword struck his shoulder blade, didn’t hit anything vital. His unconsciousness had more to do with a blow to the head.”

Jones couldn’t suppress a smile. “Lucky bastards, the both of us. I’m relieved to hear that, Emma.”

“Yeah.”

She appeared remarkably calm about everything, but Jones could make out well-hidden signs of tension and could certainly relate. He had never found it easy leaving Alice to go on supply runs, even knowing she was “safe” in her imprisoning tower. Later on, when the poison in his heart had prevented any contact, he was always worrying about her: whether she had enough to eat, whether she was sleeping all right. Whether she was truly safe from harm. Whether she’d been able to achieve some degree of happiness. But at least he’d known her whereabouts. Until she’d escaped the tower, anyway. Emma, though… to have no real clue where Hope was, how to go about getting her back, or whether she was even still alive… it had to be consuming her soul, the uncertainty. And Hope so young, as well. Not old enough to fend for herself in any way. The thought chilled him to the marrow.

Even worse was the possibility that Killian had been right, and that this nearly dead figure before them may have life-changing knowledge to impart. Jones shuddered, refusing to believe it.

“Look,” he began, “I know I’ve said this before, but… we’re going to get her back. I will do anything in my power to help. Anything.” He straightened, ignoring the sharp twinge from his damaged sternum, and went unsteadily to Emma’s side. “You’re not alone in this.”

Jones placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Emma looked up with watery eyes and nodded her thanks.

How many times had he heard similar words? How long before they had started to feel like empty platitudes; something that brought more comfort to the one offering than the recipient?

From this distance, Jones could see more detail in his other self’s condition, none of it encouraging. He noticed again the missing earring, a fact that had flashed into his awareness during their earlier encounter, but at that time could not have been less important. Now he saw the reason for its absence: a dark pink line extending from the now-healed-over pierced center of the lobe to its edge, signifying traumatic removal. Three similar scars adorned the rim in various places, with the intersecting white lines left by sutures. Ouch.

Drifting past visible marks elsewhere, some freshly dressed, Jones’ gaze inevitably settled on the obscene mutilation of Killian’s blunted wrist. The closest look he’d gotten before was its explosive introduction to his cheek, which stepped up its throbbing in reaction to the memory. The limb had been carefully bandaged with enough padding to ensure everyone’s safety, but the shape of the curved handle remained visible beneath the linens. Jones cringed and felt a very real pang in his own wrist when he pictured the brutality that must have taken place.

Emma likely wouldn’t want to think or talk about it… and yet, perhaps it was better than allowing constant speculation and gruesome imaginings about her missing toddler. Jones cleared his throat, stepping back a pace to set a more comfortable distance for conversation.

“Did they, erm, say anything about…” He trailed off and waved awkwardly toward Killian’s opposite side.

“The livestock nose ring, you mean?”

Jones nodded weakly, hastening to add,

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want; I only thought--”

“It’ll need surgery to remove,” was her blunt response, void of emotion. “There’s bone shards and things to deal with. But since it’s not really causing problems right now, it isn’t urgent, so they want to wait until he’s more stable.”

Jones nodded again. Thankfully saving him from more discomfort, a nurse came in, followed by Dr. Whale. After one final look at Emma to confirm her intentions, the physician gave approval for the nurse to administer the contents of a syringe into Killian’s IV port.

“It could take a couple of minutes, or not,” warned Whale. “Just try to go easy on him; give him a little bit of time to orient himself.”

Killian’s heartbeat and respiration were already beginning to speed up a bit. Jones slipped back further out of the way in case something unexpected required the medical personnel to have quick access to their patient.

The first sign of broadening awareness was the faintest of noises deep in Killian’s throat; a question or a quiet complaint, it was hard to tell. Jones saw Emma’s hands tighten around her husband’s as she watched his gaunt face.

“Killian?” she called softly. His only response was a slight twitch, barely distinguishable from the tremors being heightened by consciousness. She tried again. “Killian, it’s me. I’m here.” Dismayed to feel him flinch and try to pull away from her grasp, she said, “You’re safe; you’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

The raspy whine sounded again, fractionally louder this time and with a definite note of displeasure. Watching his vitals closely, Whale interjected,

“Can you hear us, Hook? Do you understand what Emma’s saying to you?”

It looked as if Killian were still trying to free his hand, a small scowl on his face, though his eyes stayed closed. Emma remained stalwart in her grip as she tried a different tack.

“I know you want to go back to sleep. But I need to talk to you first.” Her tone was gentle but solemn. “It’s important.”

Responding to an oddity on the heart monitor, Whale snaked his stethoscope beneath Killian’s gown to have a listen. Killian’s reaction was a feeble attempt to bat it away, but Emma still had a firm hold on his hand.

“Shhh, Killian, it’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s just your best friend Whale being his usual irritating self.”

If she were hoping to get a response from him--a smile, a groan, or protest--then she would have been disappointed. Killian stopped squirming and lay still. Jones began to wonder if he’d fallen back into unconsciousness. But then he spoke, his voice nothing more than a minute whisper.

“I must return.”

Emma froze, just for an instant, then schooled her features. “Screw that. You’re not going anywhere. Whale’s going to fix you up, and then--”

“My… Master…” Killian wheezed, a little bit louder this time. Squeezing his hand so hard that he winced, Emma hissed,

“Can kiss my ass. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, going there in the first place, but I’ll be damned if I let you crawl right back into that bastard’s clutches.”

Killian had dragged his eyes open during her tirade, and now lay squinting at her, pained by the lights. With no hint of shame, remorse, or even anger at her tone of voice, he repeated his statement.

“I must return to my Master.”

Emma swore quietly and ran a shaky hand down her face. “You wanted to forget her, didn’t you? You went in case he had her. But if he didn’t, then you knew he’d suck out your brains to stop it hurting. Your… your failure. Is that it?”

Stunned by the vitriol in her words, Jones felt as if he should step in, say something before irreparable damage was done. But before he could devise the right words, Emma spoke again.

“Does he have her, Killian? Can you tell us anything useful?”

Glancing painfully at each face in the room, expression devoid of emotion, Killian murmured,

“I… I can’t… I need…” He made as if to reach for his throat. Then he stopped, resting back on the pillow and closing his eyes in a wince. Emma growled, obviously exasperated and frantic for information about her daughter. Dr. Whale, who was making somber notations in Killian’s chart, pressed his lips together. Then he said,

“Maybe we should try again later. This is stressing him out; I don’t like it.”

“Just… give me a few minutes alone with him.”

There was nothing ominous in the statement, but it was obviously not a request. Whale scowled, displeased at being ordered around on his own turf.

“That’s extremely ill-advised, Sheriff; too much excitement could overload his system, causing seizures and who knows what else… he needs to rest if he’s going to have any chance at getting better…”

Emma’s glare wasn’t quite enough to convince the physician, but it did shut him up. Grimacing, Jones broke in with gentle counsel.

“I hate to say it, but perhaps we should listen to Dr. Whale. You know as well as I that extracting information sometimes requires patience, no matter how urgently it’s needed.”

She seemed determined to ignore all good advice, fixing each naysayer with a glower of irritation. Turning back to Whale, she said,

“15 minutes. I’ll press the button if he starts acting weird.”

“5,” he countered. “And we wait just outside the door.”

“Yeah, like you have so much time to spare.” She rolled her eyes. “10 minutes, Detective Jones acts as door guard. If I can’t get anything by then, you can put him back to sleep for as long as you want.”

“A lot can go wrong in 10 minutes,” grumbled Whale. He cast a grumpy eye on Jones, then back to Emma. “Him? How do you know he won’t faint the minute we leave him unsupervised?”

Jones was starting to see why Killian wasn’t particularly fond of the man. Emma didn’t say anything, only crossed her arms and waited. She must have let go of Killian’s hand at some point, and he was using the newfound freedom to rub wearily at the raw skin of his bare throat. Dr. Whale heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. But I have two witnesses that this is your decision. Any negative outcome rests squarely on your shoulders.”

“Done.”

Dr. Whale huffed and scrawled an emphatic note in the chart, then beckoned the nurse to follow him out the door. Jones turned to join them, but hesitated.

“Maybe he should be restrained in some way…?”

Emma looked askance at him. “Really? An armed law officer vs. a bedridden model for Mr. Zombie Universe?”

Jones remained uneasy but didn’t press the issue. “Call if you need anything.”

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #victor whale #hospital #drugged #brainwashed #angst #serious illness #Vocivore ltd

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years

Text

OUAT 3X21 AND 3X22 - “Snow Drifts” AND “There’s No Place Like Home”

Watch what happens when Miss Swan tries to EMMA-ncipate herself from Storybrooke!

Bwahahahahah!!!!

Anyways, let’s do the time warp agaiiiiiiiinn!

You better WATCH yourself because we’re going back to revisit the Season 3 finale below the cut! XD

I’m sorry this is so late! Super Smash Bros Ultimate kind of stole my life for a few weeks, but I’m back now!

Press Release

While Mary Margaret and David celebrate the naming of their son at a coronation in Granny’s Diner, Emma and Hook are pulled into Zelena’s time portal and find themselves in the Enchanted Forest of the past. But in their quest to discover a way back, they must be careful not to change ANYTHING or risk altering the lives of their friends and family – as well as their very own existence.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past/Present/Everything (?) XD

“Back to the Future” is my all time favorite movie, so is it any surprise that I fucking love this two parter? No? Well, good! Now let’s talk about why!

Revisiting this finale really shows me just how many story and plot points were set up in those first few minutes in such a natural way. This is easily one of the tightest finales in the show’s history in that regard. The story and plot here is so well paced. Never does anything, even for a second feel off or poorly spoken or anything of the sort! It’s just good! The absolute best instance of this is the two Hooks scene. Like, that was just so fucking CRAFTY for how Killian and Emma organize and enact the plan to get Snow to work for him.

I like how the opening of the episode finally lays out all the cards: Emma’s decision to go back to New York is a selfish one. She plainly admits this and spells out why. It’s framed as a bad thing to do and the episode’s goal is to tackle that. It’s the heart of the episode and it’s incredibly effective thanks to those opening shots that show just how much pain Emma’s been in throughout her past.

Oh my fucking God, all of the actors are just amazing here! EVERYONE gets a great moment! I talk a ton about Emma and Jen, obviously, so let’s give a shoutout to the others! Robert Carlyle gets to put all of Rumple’s delicious character aspects on display, from Rumple’s silliness to Mr. Gold’s snarkiness to both of their more sympathetic sides. Lana gets some fucking delicious ham as we see her Season 1 Evil Queen come out! Josh pulls off the perfect mix between being everything that Prince Charming is supposed to be with a more modern snark that makes him human. The same goes for Ginny, though the placement of this episode has Snow showing off a more believably cynical side to the character, which she nails! Jared Gilmore performs a fantastic Henry, understanding though still always tugging at Emma to come and stay home. Emilie de Ravin’s heart and soul during the wedding scene is just so present, so much so that I just feel myself bursting out in tears throughout the whole scene. And Colin, who boy! Colin had to take on two versions of himself and every moment of that was just delicious!

”Lovely ball the other night.” ...Is this to say that there was a day break between Emma being caught by Regina’s guards and being put in her cell? It makes sense, but WOW! I never thought of it like that!

The execution scene. The fucking kills me. I know Snow’s alive, but I don't fucking care. I still feel every bit of that sense of dread and disgust as the fireball takes her. And how that affects Emma, she can barely speak and when even the possibility of Snow being alive comes to light, Emma’s immediately back to full energy! Emma’s love for Snow is such an effective driving force behind the solving of her conflict of finding home. The moment that choked me up this time was Emma shouting “you’re alive” to Snow right before hugging her. Just...and then we have to sit on the reaction when Snow doesn’t recognize her. It’s just too much.

And Emma’s revelation. I love how slow and emotional the moment gets to be as she tells Killian why she wants to stop running and how she values her mother and life in Storybrooke. It’s so heartbreaking and heartwarming in the same vein. It’s this gentle breakdown that understands that yes, Emma has been selfish, but she wants to do and be better for everyone, including herself. She wants to be like the rest of her family. She wants to be a part of something. And the smile on hers and Killian’s face as she comes to terms with that lesson...it’s just the best kind of payoff! And then the reunion, accompanied by that GORGEOUS melody as Emma finally remedies her behavior towards her parents. It’s one of the most beautiful moments in the entire show.

So let’s talk about Baby Neal briefly, or rather, his name. This is one of the most contentious points in the entire fandom. I...don’t love it (but don’t hate it), but only because Snow and Charming didn’t interact with Neal all that much. Had they had any meaningful time together, I think this naming would’ve been not only good, but great. Even still though, I don’t really care too much one way or the other. I’m one of those people who is completely fine with kids on this show being named after the dead. Maybe that’s because it’s the case in so much of the other media that I’ve seen throughout my life and apart of the Jewish culture I grew up with, but I don’t understand the fandom’s hangup with that reason for names. People are named after the dead. It’s not that big of a deal.

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-Guys, that is just cruel and unusual punishment to make all of the kids stand outside and watch a kid get adopted right in front of them. I get they’re trying to be polite and inspire hope, but they’ve GOT to know that that’s difficult for the non adopted kids to watch! Like, the actual fuck?!

-Dammit. The cameraman who kept the shot on Emma as she sees a kid driving off with a new family fucking is an evil genius and fucking WRECKS me! *sobs into infinity*

-Do you think Lucy had a coronation ceremony?

-Potluck at Granny’s, huh? I don’t know if that’s good because you’re thrusting less work onto Granny or bad because you’re denying her the business.

-Okay, I know Emma’s running away from her problems and all, but that retort about Snow and David stalling for time was fucking hysterical! XD

-Robin, that is one luxurious spread! But why are you guys sitting on the floor?! Don’t you know that Regina’s a queen and a bit more refined? XD

-”I would’ve walked through hell to be with my Marian again.” ...Dammit. I really want a Robin/Marian Underworld fic.

-”That [vault] was only for the most dangerous and unstable magic.” Then that sounds like a GREAT place for the dagger! “And this doesn’t qualify?” “No.” YES!

-To tell you the truth, I guess when you factor in both Rumple’s sacrifice AND the fact that he’s scary powerful, it makes sense that Maurice would bless the marriage. Like, he’s still a shit person, but the decision makes sense. I do feel though like they just stuck him in so that there was one extra person at the wedding, but I’d honestly think Ruby would’ve been a more appropriate choice since she was closer to Belle and even helped out Rumple on occasion, especially since she was actually in the episode.

-The entire back-and-forth about the origins of Snowing is the greatest thing in the world! XD

-KATHRYN! My sweet cinnamon roll!!! You look so happy and you’re talking with Best Matriarch!!! <3

-Okay! The Captain Cobra moment here is so fucking underrated! Henry trusts Killian with his fucking storybook! Like, this book just gave him back his memories and Henry trusts Killian with it to help his mom! Just...YES PLEASE!!!!

-”Stubborn like her...all of our family.” To be fair, have you MET your family, David? That correction is pretty accurate.

-”She would curb any homicidal tendencies.” ...I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works, mate!

-I love RC’s “oh shit” face.

-...To tell you the truth, now that we know Zelena survived, that corrupted footage isn’t that far off the mark.

-”You defeated the bloody Wicked Witch. You defeated Pan.” ...You’re not fully on the mark, Killian, but I do agree that she had a big part in taking them down.

-I LOVE THIS FUCKING MIRROR LAKE!

-Lana! Lana! There’s so much beautiful ham here and I love you for it!!! This scene where she’s intimidating the villagers! Just...this is perfection!

-BOOBS! I mean...Emma’s EF attire looks great! ...BOOBS! <3

-I just LOVE Emma’s smile as she watches the set up for her parent’s first meeting. Like, I legit reared up because that smile alongside the Snowing theme just...it was fantastic.

-”It’s a miracle you two fall for each other.” I love that ‘da fuq, Emma’ look Killian gives Emma.

-I love that look Killian gives Emma when he says “me.”

-...Damn, Killian looks good funny encased in shadows.

-And then he has to say “privacy” in only the way Killian Jones can do.

-”Ooh confidence. I like it.” And I like your confidence. ...Damnit, OUAT men! Stop being so attractive!

-Regina just ROCKS her every entrance!

-”It’s all about the tumblers.” I spell it differently, but I feel you, man. XD

-I love the way Neal describes his past with Rumple. The tragedy of their separation comes from the fact that they loved each other so much, but Rumple couldn’t overcome his demons in a way that could help them stay together.

-I LOVE this Captain Charming scene. The bros are so supportive of one another, though David doesn’t fully grasp who Killian is to him!

-”Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up with them again.” ...That hurrrrts!

-Ruby is such a badass!!!

-”Hook!” How strange must this nickname be to everyone else in this room?! XD

-*Snow sneaks up on Regina* Oh SNOW you didn’t!!! XD

-Aww! I love that Red Snow hug!!!

-You know, I really like the design of the trolls and am sad that they weren’t used more often.

-”I’m devilishly handsome again.” Yes you are!

-Gee! Is that urn important?

-I love both Rumple and Emma’s reactions to Neal’s name. That subtle happiness, especially on Rumple’s face, is just so beautiful!

-So I have so many feelings on Killian ‘ditching his crew.’ I actually wrote an entire fic about it. BUT that having been said, I think the choice he made was the right one.

-Archie, they’re getting married, not going ice skating. Wear a fucking suit!

-I can’t get as swept up in the OQ tragedy because Roland says “mama” and that is too fucking cute!

-Okay, that reveal of Elsa was SO FUCKING WELL SHOT! I love the slow buildup to her reveal, from the icy blue liquid in the urn to the forming of her dress to the shape of her hair to the dismissal of the liquid and finally, to the reveal of her powers! What an EPIC intro! Best one ever! Now I know you’re upset about that, Regina, but you just have to *takes deep breath* LET IT GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (And THAT’S how you close out a season!)

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

Emma Accepting Home - So look, I love how every season touches upon another aspect of Emma’s acceptance of people into her life, but on some level, I do get how the fandom got sick of it after a certain point. I firmly believe that this was the best and ultimate moment of culmination of this aspect of Emma’s character. That’s not to say that I didn’t like it in other seasons. Fuck no, I loved it in other seasons, but this was the best handling of it. The idea of those Emma loves and their philosophies on home and family all come together in this beautifully blended way. Emma’s parents, Henry, Killian, Neal, and more all contribute to her outlook on her life in Storybrooke and how her walls can be detrimental. And seeing Emma realize that makes for such a beautiful journey.

Killian’s Redemption - “That man sitting there, you don’t know him. Just be careful.” I feel like this line speaks to Killian’s improvement. He doesn’t want someone he cares for to see how lousy he was. And Killian’s redemption really gets its proper payoff here. With many of his past wrongs righted, Killian is finally given appreciation for helping get Emma back to Storybrooke. I think there’s an added layer to “you traded your ship for me.” Basically, Emma has to press him unyieldingly in order to find this out, meaning that he was never going to tell her on his own. He was willing to give up his home and have the act go anonymous.

Regina’s Redemption - ….Fuck. So, I’ve gone on about how I loved Regina’s Redemption this season. That is completely true. And this is where we take a GIANT step back. I GET that Regina feels resentment towards Emma. In this episode, it’s even at an okay level. BUT, going forward, this gives way to perhaps my least favorite Regina arcs. Thankfully, it only lasts for five episodes and I like the handling of it in the first four...you know what? We’ll talk about it when we get there! Apart from that aspect, I felt like Regina had reached a good place here! Her character is becoming more concrete.

Rumple’s Redemption - This is one of those episodes where Rumple’s decision to hide the real dagger and the truth about Zelena’s death makes things really sticky. And don’t forget, I was on his side for her death, but now’s the time to come forward! Apart from this aspect of it, something not at all glossed over in the episode itself, Rumple is framed as good. His wedding is a moment of character payoff and the happiness he feels as he gets married and Snowing’s son is named after Neal feels earned in a lot of ways. And the weirdest thing is that that’s Rumple for you: Undeniable someone with a big heaping helping of darkness, but a fuckton of character in there too. Like, this doesn’t ruin the episode by any means, but it’s there and it’s weird.

Neal’s Death - “Home is the place when you leave, you just miss it.” I think it was a fantastic story element to make one of the most poignant and thematically present lines in the episode something Emma learned from Neal. Not only that, but even some more of Neal’s minor advice comes in handy, like how to unlock the prison cell!

Favorite Dynamic

Emma and Killian. ...Look I work hard not to incorporate too much shipping into the meatier parts of the review and I’ll keep the romance out of it, I promise. So just give me this one. Cool beans? Cool beans. But seriously, I do actually have completely non-shippy reasons to love this dynamic as it works in this episode. For a time travel story to really work, there needs to be at the heart of it characters who know what’s going on and can interact with one another. It’s the most important dynamic in the story and if they fucked it up, the rest of the tale would’ve fallen apart, but thankfully, with Emma and Killian together, the special thrived. Killian and Emma both bring something to the table. Emma brings that fresh face and serves as a focal point for the story. Her naivete of some of the fairy tale elements and personal relationship to the people from the past is what keeps the story going and engaging. And Killian in a lot of ways helps to keep her grounded. While he cares deeply for Emma, his existence is not the one on the line and his lack of a familial relationship allows for some space between him and the events. He gets to be the clear thinker when Emma panics and her guide since this is his world as well as the voice of reason. And in return, Emma gets to perform the cool stunts, save people, and stand up to the past version of the Evil Queen. She even gets to save Killian’s ass in the case of royal balls and keeping his past self distracted. Together, they get to bounce around ideas, make jokes, and share moments of revelations that other characters in this episode aren’t and can’t be privy to. These two characters come together and make for a good and balanced dynamic for that reason. Additionally, Jen and Colin’s chemistry allows for a balance between things being lighthearted and serious when they need to be. Whether you like them as a couple or not, I don’t think it can be denied that they are the reason for why the main story was as entertaining as it was.

Writer

We have four writers here, two per episodes. David Goodman and Robert Hull worked on “Snow Drifts” and Adam and Eddy wrote “There’s No Place Like Home.” And they all did so freakin’ well! You can tell how careful these guys were with most every writing decision ever made. They managed to rework a fantastic episode, “Snow Drifts,” while still keeping to the dignity of it at the same time. It gels so well into also being a family story and allowing for as many fun character interactions as possible.

Rating

Double Golden Apple! What more can I honestly say? It’s as close to perfect as OUAT can get for me!

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

CAPTAIN SWAN, MOFOS! - THERE IS A REASON THIS BEAUTIFUL EPISODE IS CALLED THE CS MOVIE BECAUSE HOT DAMN IT IS A CS MOVIE!!!!! As I said in the “Favorite Dynamics” section, Killian is a constant source of support for Emma. He knows that she belongs with her family, respects her ideas, and challenges her. And just, let’s get through the moments, okay?! Like, he goes through a time portal for her! “One of these days, I’m gonna stop chasing this woman.” The fuck you are, buddy. You’re chasing her for all eternity! And just, he’s got her. He keeps her sane as she freaks out. He helps her relax. And just...the LOOKS he gives her! Like, look at how they joke around when Emma changes clothes, those little flirty looks! XD And speaking up, how about that loosening up of the corset and “you and I both know I’m his type?” Because that kills me. It utterly kills me! Someone drag my soul out of the Underworld because that scene destroys me in the best way possible! And the dude gets jealous of Emma kissing his past self, so fucking jealous that he needs to take his-fucking-self out! XD AND NOW WE GET TO THE BALL! THE FUCKING BALL THAT OWNS MY ETERNAL ASS! First, look at those smiles as Killian compliments Emma. THEN look at how Emma covers for Killian like a mofo’in boss! FINALLY, THE DANCING. IMMORTALIZED IN THE BOOK FOR ALL TIME IS MY FAVORITE CS MOMENT! EMMA GETS TO PLAY PRINCESS AND FEEL LIKE A ROYAL. KILLIAN GETS TO TREAT HER TO SUCH AND TEACH HER HOW TO WALTZ. AND THEY”RE SMILING AND HAVING SO MUCH FUN. IT”S PERFECT! HONESTLY PERFECT! Okay, I’m semi-recovered from that. Now, I also LOVE how Emma holds that ring to Killian and it looks just SO much like she’s proposing! And THEN “I’d go to the end of the world for her. Or time.” Just...you need to stop loving Emma so much because my heart cannot take it! And notice Emma’s smile when she says “Hook.” Then, we get an interesting callback to the Neverland Arc. When Emma asks Killian about his brother, Killian’s unwilling to talk about it, but here, knowing she needs that, he tells her what she needs to know. AND “I always knew there was a little pirate in you Swan.” She’s certainly getting there! And just...I love how Killian’s both harsh and gentle with Emma as she has her moment of realization. And THEN, Emma, after being with Killian for most of basically two or three days, goes out to see him again because he’s all alone! Just...the confession about giving up The Jolly Roger for love. I love how Killian never intended to reveal this and how Emma knows the weight of that choice. It just makes the subsequent kiss so satisfying!

Rumbelle - Oh yeah...There are other couples in this episode too! XD Sorry, but yes, I ADORED the Rumbelle in this episode. Like, in the past, I love how Rumple gets so embarrassed by Belle thinking that he talked about her and how he dismissed her. It’s so cute! And now, that wedding! That wedding! Just...what can I say about these vows? They’re perfect. The editing allows them to encompass every other couple while the lines are still completely their own and work perfectly for Rumbelle as a couple. Rumbelle is every other couple at their best and worst, a mix of best and worst traits and I feel like this wedding is a celebration of that fact. On a funnier note, I love how Rumple and Belle didn’t even wait for the fucking “I do’s” and just went at each other with a kiss!

Outlaw Queen - Robin and Regina’s office picnic is so adorable and honest and open and beautiful! Like, they put everything on the floor, emotionally speaking.

Robin/Marian - Talking about Marian is difficult when you know that she’s actually Zelena, but this episode allows for her mostly to be herself, allowing for an accurate take on her. And to tell you the truth, I like this couple in a lot of ways. I love how much Robin misses Marian and that while he has moved on from her death, still cares for her so deeply. And Marian adores Robin! As soon as she’s free, she basically says “fuck it” to the stipulations of her freedom in order to be with him and Roland. Their love for each other is such a subtle and prevalent thing!

Snowing - Okay, so before we get to the past, let me say that I LOVE all of the Snowing banter at Granny’s! You can just TELL that a couple’s truly great when they can just joke and bicker about how they met and they have that down in SPADES! And in the past, I love the care that went into re-making Snowing’s story, but in a way that was still true to the original version. Though Emma, Killian, and Rumple are pulling the strings, Snow and Charming’s love is so carefully made to be all their own doing and that was so important. And I love the mix of new and old content so much. The repetition of lines just shows how true Snow and Charming’s love really is! And honestly, there’s something so special about Snow and Charming’s daughter being the one to bring them together!

Golden Hook - ...There’s so much FOETP goodness in here. Just, those hate-filled looks in the forest, that suffocation, the quips about burying the hatchet! There has never been true hate in all the lands! <3 Also, when Emma asks about how Killian got his hook, Killian’s next response is to say that she knows “who he is.” This hook and it’s origins, Rumple, are who he is.

Swanfire - That amusement park date was too cute and I really love how Neal’s advice is something that sticks with Emma. It shows Emma’s nuance as a character, as she can accept good and bad things about Neal, even during periods of time where she hated him. And I legit fucking BAWLED when Emma was telling Rumple about how she loved Neal and how he was a hero. Like, just...don’t talk to me! That was too much!

-----

Again, I am SO sorry this review took so long and wasn’t as deep as some of my others! Super Smash Bros, guys. Fucking dangerous. There was more that I wanted to talk about in this episode, but I’d rather you get the review than spend any more time! Thanks, as always, to @daensarah and @watchingfairytales!!! Love you guys so much!!! Hopefully, I can get the Overview done within the next few days and then we can get to season 4!!!!

Season 3 Total (207/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (59/60)* Kalinda Vazquez (34/40)* Andrew Chambliss (42/50)* Jane Espenson (28/30)* David Goodman (39/40)* Robert Hull (40/40)* Christine Boylan (20/20)* Daniel Thomsen (28/30)*

* Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Links to the rest of my rewatch will no longer be provided. They take posts with links outside of searches and I spend way too much time on these reviews to not give them that kind of exposure. Sorry for the inconvenience, but they still can be found on my page under Operation Rewatch.

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #watching fairytales #ouat 3x21 #ouat 3x22 #jenna watches ouat

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captain-k-jones · 7 years

Text

Learning to Love (Again) - Chapter 13 (CS Modern AU FF)

Summary: In the wake of his crumbling marriage, Killian Jones turns to his best friend Emma Swan for help. Even though Emma had just ended a two year long relationship she is more than happy to welcome Killian and Nate, his eleven month old son, into her home. What neither of them expect is to learn how to love again through each other.

A/N: Words cannot begin to express how sorry I am about the wait to get this chapter to you all. It was insane and I NEVER expected it to be so long between updates. My only excuse is that I am but a human with a lot on my plate. Getting my second master's degree, dealing with my son's many issues at school, while working full time, and, finally, managing a family of 4 seems like it would be easy... but it has not been.

On top of that, I am a teacher who works with at-risk inner city students and many of them look to me to provide that one positive stable influence in their life. Well, in the last several months I have had 5 students go AWOL and they are unable to be found. Not to mention the drama with my extended family (my mom found out my step dad was cheating and he just told her yesterday he wanted a divorce). Needless to say, writing has been the LAST thing on my mind.

But here it is, Chapter 13. Do I think it could be better? Likely so. But I am tired of overthinking this chapter to the point of insanity. Writing is supposed to be fun, a stress reliever for me, so when it becomes the stress itself it is time to let go of the chapter and just post it.

All mistakes are mine (PM me if there is something glaring). The chapter has been lightly beta'ed (thanks @o-u-a-timer), but no where near what I normally do for the beta process.

I am hoping to wrap this fic up over the next month or two. We will see how it goes.

Again, thank you so so so much for sticking with me! You all make me smile and make my day just a little bit brighter.

Enjoy the chapter and please, please, let me know what you think!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own OUAT and/or its characters.

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This chapter’s word count: 6933

Chapter 13

Emma tucked her chin into her shoulder, her arm rising in an attempt to stop even more rain from getting into her increasingly damp hair. Her black boots pounded against the sidewalk causing water to splatter onto the tops of them as she quickened her pace. Walking to the bar after her shift at the station had been a bad idea. Hell, agreeing to meet with Ruby in the first place had been a bad idea. She should've just went home and spent the evening holed up in her bedroom dressed in her pajamas or, at the very least, she should've just accepted the ride David had offered her since the bug was in the shop.

Seeing the glass door in front of her, relief flooded her body. Moving swiftly, Emma yanked on the door and squeezed herself through it. Leaning against the wall, she took a quick moment to catch her breath. Outside, the rain picked up and begun to hammer against the sidewalk. Yep, going to the bar had definitely been a bad idea.

Of course, it wasn't like she had expected it to rain or even known it was going to. In order to have know that, she would have had to check the weather this morning and checking the weather would have lead to her lingering in the house far longer than she'd wanted to. Because lingering in the house would have inevitably landed her in the kitchen, which would have lead to her joining Killian and Nate for breakfast.

Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, Emma bit down lightly. Having breakfast with Nate and Killian used to be one of her favorite parts of the day, it used to be … When she woke up this morning, she'd wanted nothing more than to walk down her steps and spend the morning with the two people who had become so much more than just her best friend and his son. She'd wanted it with ever fiber of her being but… She couldn't do it.

She couldn't walk down those stairs. She couldn't sit through yet another breakfast and pretend that her heart didn't skip a beat every time Killian looked in her direction, couldn't pretend that she wasn't staring at him every time his eyes caught her own. She was just so tired of pretending that she didn't have feelings for her best friend.

Emma sighed, her body collapsing against the wall behind her. She needed to stop. How many times did she have to remind herself that Killian was her best friend? That being her best friend was all he would ever be. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Killian Jones wasn't in love with her and nothing would ever change that. Nothing.

Lifting her arm up, Emma ran her fingers through her soaked locks in an attempt to de-tangle them. It was exactly that reason why in the month since Nate's birthday, since she'd received those flowers from August, since her and Killian's odd argument-that-wasn't, she had forced herself to take a step back from him, from everything.

Emma laughed forcibly and dropped her arm back to her side. Well, maybe step back wasn't the right phrase. No, it was more along the lines of hide in her room, avoid, and pull away completely. It was just… It was all too much.

Pretending not to love him, pretending like she didn't want more had become too much, it had become exhausting. She was tired, tired of second guessing, tired of hoping, tired of pretending. Killian had been her best friend for years. If he felt as she did, if he returned her feelings, then he would have acknowledged it before now. Hell, he would have made a move when they were younger.

But he hadn't.

Emma shook her head. He never would and… And, she had to be okay with that. She had to. Otherwise, she would lose her best friend and that… That couldn't be a possibility.

Biting her lip, she lifted her arms and gathered her still wet hair into a ponytail. She'd been best friends with Killian since grade school and being his friend was, and always would be, her first priority. Slipping the hair tie from around her wrist, she secured it around her locks in the middle of her head tightly. If being his friend was all she would ever be, she needed to learn to live with that.

She needed to learn how to fall out of love with him.

Emma took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If only it were that easy. Frowning, she felt her chest tighten as it filled with helplessness. She wished she could just snap her fingers and change her feelings. Blinking, she looked up to the ceiling and ignored the sting in her eyes as tears clouded her vision. She wished... Her hand lifted and her fingers pressed against her eyelids in an effort to wipe away the tears before they fell.

Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like there was a hole in her chest that she couldn't fill? Why…. Taking another deep breath she let her head fall back to hit the wall behind her. Why did she have to love him so much? The sound of the bar's door opening pulled Emma from her thoughts. Wiping her eyes quickly, Emma dropped her chin and turned her head in the direction of the door just in time to see the door shut behind her uncle Leroy. The moment he noticed her standing there, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"You okay, sister?" His voice was its usual gruff tone, but it was also full of concern.

Emma shrugged her shoulders slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Is anyone ever really okay, Leroy?"

Chuckling, Leroy shook his head. "You got me there, Nolan." Taking a step forward, he raised his arm and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Although…" He tilted his head up to catch her eye. "Something tells me this is something more." Emma felt her heart skip a beat. Growing up, Leroy had always had an uncanny ability at reading her, at figuring out what was upsetting her, and that was the last thing she wanted him to do at the moment. She didn't want anyone to know. The more people who knew, the harder it would be to make it all go away. The more people who knew, the easier it would be for Killian...

"Now, Emma…" He interrupted her panicked thoughts as he squeezed her shoulder gently. "I've watched you grow up since the moment my cousin Ruth decided to take you in and you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I know that there is nothing in this town, in this life, that Emma Nolan cannot overcome." Catching her gaze once more, Leroy smiled gently. "And there is nothing your family will not help you face."

Emma smiled, her eyes misting once more, only this time it was in appreciation. "Thank you." She whispered the words slowly.

Leroy nodded and shrugged as he released her shoulder. "No thanks needed, sister. Although, maybe pick a better place to think next time, eh? You're kinda blockin people from the drinks, girl!"

Leroy laughed and Emma couldn't stop herself from joining in. Leave it to Leroy to remind her that she could do anything she put her mind to and then, in the same sentence, chastise her for blocking the path to the alcohol. Good thing she knew him so well, otherwise she might be offended.

"Thanks, Leroy." She forced a smile to her lips and stepped out of his way. "Have a good night. I'll see you Sunday for dinner."

"See you then." Leroy lifted his arm to pat her on the back as he nodded his head in agreement before continuing further into the bar and disappearing into the crowd.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Leroy was right, she could do this. Somehow, someway, she would learn to let go of her feelings and things would go back to normal. Lifting her shoulders from where they rested on the wall, she propelled herself further into the bar. She could do this, and she would, but right now she just wanted to forget it all and enjoy the night with her friend.

Right now, she was entitled to that.

Pushing herself through the crowd, Emma scanned the room in an attempt to find Ruby. After a moment, Emma heard a distinctive laugh to the right of her and rolled her eyes. Of course, Ruby would tend the bar until her arrival. Her friend was incapable of letting someone else take care of her bar when she could do it herself, it was part of the reason the bar was so successful. Well, that, and the fact that Ruby could mix drinks like no other person in town.

Pivoting quickly, Emma weaved past several people to make her way toward the bartop. The corner of her lips lifted in a smile as Ruby, who was waving her arms in the air as she talked excitedly to the customer in front of her, came into view.

This was just what she needed. This… Emma's eyes fell to the person sitting in front of Ruby, fell to that familiar head of unruly dark hair that she would recognize anywhere, and she froze in place.

Killian.

For a moment all she could do was stand there, stand there and feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. So much for pushing Killian from her thoughts tonight. How could she do that when he was right there just an arm's length away? How was she going to do that if she had to sit next to him all night? If she had to...

"Emma."

Flinching at the sound of Killian's voice, Emma jerked her head slightly to focus her attention on him. He was standing in front of the stool he had previously occupied dressed in a white henley and ripped jeans. His dark hair, as always, stuck up in every which direction and she suddenly wanted very much to run her fingers through it. Biting her lip, she curled her fingers into fists at her sides. Damn it. Damn him. Why was he here? Why...

"Emma?" Killian called her name once more as he moved to stand directly in front of her, concern etched into his eyes as he ducked his head to meet her gaze.

"Sorry." She mumbled, her lips lifting a small unconvincing smile as he lifted his arm and cupped her cheek with his hand.

The touch of his skin to her cheeks caused an entirely different twist of her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and lean into his touch, to feel the warmth of his fingers pressed into her cheek. She wanted nothing more than to lift her own arm and press her hand atop of his, to entwine their fingers and enjoy the feeling his touch provided.

Only, she couldn't.

She couldn't because it was that exact feeling that she was trying to get over. It was that exact feeling she was trying to avoid.

"Sorry." She stated again as she shook her head and took a step back. His hand dropped from her cheek and fell to his side. Tucking a pale lock behind her ear, she shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to look nonchalant. "I had a long day at work and I didn't expect to see you here, I thought Nate was home this weekend."

Killian's arm lifted to scratch the skin at the nape of his neck."Uh, well Milah asked to switch weekends. I attempted to call you, but when you did not answer I called Ruby to see if she needed some assistance at the bar since Liam was away this weekend." Shoving one of his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. "She mentioned that she'd invited you for a drink after your shift. I thought I would wait for you, unless…" His voice trailed off, his eyebrows pulling together as his eyes searched her face.

Emma's heart clenched in her chest. She could see him second guessing his decision, second guessing his desire to spend the evening with her, to spend the evening with his best friend. Guilt filled her as she realized his reaction was the cause of her behavior the last couple of weeks.

Killian wasn't normally the type of person to second guess his actions. Especially not when it came to her and their friendship and yet… here they were. And, it was all her fault. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted in disappointment. It had never been her intention to hurt him, she'd only been trying to get her head on straight.

She'd only been trying to move on from what she'd deemed an impossible situation. Except it hadn't worked and now, she'd hurt the one person who had never truly hurt her.

Which was why, at this very moment, she wanted nothing more than to spend the evening with him to make up for her behavior. Really, it was the least she could do. Especially if it would make him happy because at the end of the day Killian Jones deserved all of the happiness in the world.

Reaching out, Emma pulled his hand into hers and squeezed. "Unless what?" She questioned, a light tone in her voice. "Who else would I want to spend my Friday evening with?"

Killian shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Emma," He ran his fingers through his hair before lifting his head and meeting her gaze. "Are you sure everything is truly okay, love?"

"That depends." Emma smirked, as she pulled on their joined hands and made her way toward the bartop with a shrug of her shoulders. "On whether or not you order me some onion rings with my beer."

Killian laughed, a full laugh that made her heart flutter in her chest."One day, Emma Nolan, you'll be the death of me." He nodded his head, his lips still curled into a wide smile. "Besides, love, when have I ever forgot the onion rings?"

Emma twisted her neck to look behind her. "Never…" Sticking her tongue out childishly, Emma continued. "And hush. You know you love me, Jones."

The moment she twisted her head back around, Emma felt Killian come up behind her. Pressing his chest against her back, he rested his chin on her shoulder so close she could feel his lips against her ear. "Aye." He whispered, his voice low and gravelly as his breath tickled her ear and she inhaled sharply. "That I do, love."

He pulled away quickly, so quick that she could still feel the warmth from his body, and turned his attention toward Ruby with the intention of ordering her drink. Stunned Emma slid into the empty stool next to Killian's and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head fell forward, her chin landing to rest on her chest, and took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself.

Logically she knew Killian had meant nothing by his actions. He was treating her the same way he always had, as his best friend. But her heart, the same heart that just wouldn't let go of her feelings for him, couldn't tell the difference.

If only her heart would listen to her head. If only she could simply stop loving him.

If only...

Killian sighed, his eyes closing momentarily as a satisfied grin formed on his lips. Bloody hell, he'd forgotten how comfortable Emma's bed was. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he crossed his legs at the ankle and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Perhaps it was the the single beer he'd had at the bar or, perhaps, it was something else, but he hadn't been this relaxed in quite some time. In fact, if he wasn't careful, he was liable to fall asleep right where he lay.

Turning his head to the right, his eyelashes brushed against against the fabric of the pillowcase as he dug his cheek in further. Feeling himself beginning to drift off, he forced his eyes open and blinked several times in an attempt to wake himself. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep, especially if that meant a premature ending to his night with Emma.

Settling further into Emma's bed, all Killian could think about was how bloody outstanding the last several hours had turned out. Going to the bar had been a marvelous decision. It had been so long since he and Emma had really, truly spent any time together. Especially because, lately, Emma seemed to spend more time either out of her house or in her bedroom than the opposite. Of course she always had some type of excuse, work normally, but that didn't change the fact that he was used to her always being there and lately she hadn't been.

They'd spent a majority of the night talking as they sipped on their beers, a grand total of three for Emma and one for him as he was attempting not to drink as much given the events of the past year. At one point, despite many attempts to dissuade her, Emma even managed to... a grin formed on his lips. Stubborn lass, she'd actually managed to get him to dance with her.

Though, he'd quickly remembered the benefits to dancing as he placed his hands on her hips and she rested her head on her chest. The moment he dropped his head to rest his cheek against the side of her head, he'd known she wouldn't have to force him to dance the rest of the evening. He'd gladly follow Emma to the end of the world, or time, if it meant he was permitted to hold her the way he had tonight.

As the hour grew later, the bar began to fill with the typical Friday night crowd. Around midnight he looked up to see Emma attempting to stifle a yawn. Reaching across the table, he brushed his thumb along the backside of her hand to get her attention and, once her eyes met his, he suggested they call it a night.

His heart skipped a beat as she grinned sleepily in his direction and agreed with the contingency that they watch last week's episode of Game of Thrones upon their arrival.

Besides, I'm not quite ready for the night to end yet.

Her words had been whispered, but he'd heard them regardless. The truth of the matter was that he didn't want it to end either.

Which was how he'd ended up in here, in Emma's bed, wiggling the toes of his sock-clad feet back and forth like a child. It was just… He was happy, happier than he had been in quite a long time. And it wasn't just the events of tonight that had caused his happiness. No…

It was everything he'd been through to get to where is was now.

It was hard to believe that a year ago he'd been in a completely different place as a person. He'd been full of anger, someone who rarely smiled, who rarely laughed. A frown pulled at the corners of his lips.

He'd been broken. So broken, he hadn't thought he'd ever heal the pieces of himself back together.

Scratching the back of his head, he couldn't help the smile that returned to his lips. He had though. He'd healed and it seemed like every day that went by was just another day closer to him returning to his former self, to the person he'd been before Milah's actions. It had been a long, long, road. A road that he never thought he'd reach the end of and, yet, here he was…

And he owed a lot of his progress to Emma.

No… He jerked his head quickly. Shifting, he unlaced his fingers and pulled his arm down to scratch the skin behind his ear. He owed most of his progress to Emma. Without her, he wouldn't be anywhere near where he was today. Emma Nolan had saved him, she'd saved him when he didn't even know he needed saving. She'd saved him and, along the way, he'd fallen in love with her.

He'd fallen in love with his best mate.

His smile fell slightly. Falling in love with Emma had been easy. Well, once he'd realized he was ready to let go of his marriage to Milah it had been easy. It was the aftermath that proved to be a tad difficult. How does one tell their best mate that they'd fallen in love with them? How does one….

Clenching his jaw, Killian closed his eyes in frustration and disappointment. Realizing he was in love with someone should have been exhilarating, it should have been easy. But, it hadn't been. The last four weeks had been nothing like he'd expected. Instead, he'd found himself constantly second guessing every touch, every smile, every time their eyes met across the room. He found himself second guessing everything.

Turning his head to the side, Killian stared at the open door that led to Emma's walk in closet. The light was still on, a clear indication that Emma had not finished preparing for bed, and he could hear her soft footsteps as she maneuvered her way through the area.

Still gazing at the door, Killian felt his heart clench in his chest. It didn't change the fact that the very same night he realized he was in love with her was the night she'd suddenly become very absent.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Killian turned his head away from the door. Bloody hell, he hadn't realized how much he missed her until he saw her in the bar this evening. He understood that she had to work, understood that he and Nate were technically not her responsibility, but he missed her. He missed the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, missed the way her laugh sounded as it echoed through the house as she ran after Nate, missed sharing breakfast with her in the morning.

He missed simply spending his time with the brilliant lass that was Emma Nolan. Which was why, when Ruby told him Emma had planned on stopping at the bar after her shift, he wasted no time getting there. He'd hoped they could have a nice evening, an evening that was similar to the evenings they'd had prior to Nate's party. He'd hoped things could return to normal and...

"Killian?" His eyes snapped open and his body flinched in surprise. Standing right in front of the closet door was Emma. She'd switched out of her standard jeans and sweater into her pajamas which consisted of a pair of black leggings and a red tank top. Her hair was now pulled into a loose side braid and she'd swapped her contacts out for her glasses. She looked…

"Bloody hell, love." His words were full of awe as they slipped out of his mouth of their own accord. He'd seen Emma in various states of dress throughout their friendship, but seeing her like this, seeing her encased in her natural beauty, she was simply….

Breathtaking.

There was no other word to describe her. Emma had always been a beautiful lass, there was no denying that, but she didn't need fancy dresses, heels, and make-up to look stunning. No, Emma's beauty was natural and seeing her dressed as she was, casual and bare, was a sight to behold.

Realizing the way his voice had sounded, he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. His fingers combed through his locks and he cleared his throat, a vain attempt to cover the wonder that had been present previously, before speaking once more. "A little warning would be nice, lass."

Emma shrugged sheepishly, her face full of regret. "I was just checking to see if you were asleep. Her fingers pulled on the hem of her tank top nervously. "I didn't want to wake you if you were."

Killian nodded, his eyes glued to the small sliver of her stomach he could see as her fingers twisted her top. Her skin was milky white, smooth, and his fingertips itched to reach out and… Clenching his jaw, he fisted his hands in the comforter of the bed and forced his gaze to her eyes.

"But you're not." She continued as she made her way to the empty side of the bed and pulled the comforter back. "Asleep that is." Slipping under the covers, she angled her body toward him and propped her head up with her arm. "So, I'm sorry." She murmured, her voice soft and full of apology.

Killian shook his head gently. "No apologies necessary, love." Angling his body to mirror her position, he lifted his arm to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear as his lips pulled into a teasing grin. "Tis my fault for closing my eyes and drifting for a mere moment. I should have remembered you can be as quiet as a mouse when you want to be."

Emma rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips pulling up into a smile as she shook her head in disbelief. "A mouse? Really? You and I both know the last animal I should be compared to is a mouse, Jones."

Killian arched his eyebrow, his head tilted to the side in thought. "Perhaps a cat then? Quiet, sleek, and strong? Kind of fickle when they want…."

"HEY!" Killian didn't get to finish his sentence as Emma lifted her arm and have him a hard shove to the shoulder. "I am not fickle, Killian Jones! You take that back!"

Killian laughed, a loud full sound that rang throughout the entire room, as he leaned backwards a bit to avoid Emma's next shove. "Take it back? Now why would I do that, love, when it is very much the truth?"

"Ugh" Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma pulled herself into a sitting position and criss-crossed her legs. "You're mean. When have I ever been fickle to you?"

It was the tone of her voice that gave him pause, the underlying hint of hurt that was present. He had been joking, of course, but it seemed Emma had not understood that. Emma had never been fickle towards him, others sure, but him… never. At least not since they first met as children. At least, not until the past several weeks.

Lifting himself up from the bed, Killian reached out and pulled Emma's hand into his own. Intertwining their fingers, he brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. "Never." His whispered words were full of earnest as he met her gaze. "Unless you would like to speak to the past several weeks, love. You know, the ones where my best mate up and disappeared on me most days."

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. She opened her lips to speak only to shut them just as quickly. He could see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and felt his heart crack just a little bit. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't meant to make her upset, but he also wanted to know why. Why had she pulled away so suddenly? Why, after standing by his side through his lowest points, through his divorce, through his drinking, through his hitting rock bottom, had she pulled away the moment he had finally felt normal, the moment he'd finally felt happy? Why did she pull away the moment he realized that he was in love with her?

Not that she knew that part.

But the night of Nate's party, he had been so sure that she possibly returned his feelings. Only to have her to pull completely away. None of it made sense and although tonight had been a welcomed return to normal for them and their friendship, he still wanted to know. He still wanted to understand.

Reaching up, Killian wiped the corner of her eye with his fingertip gently. "Hey now. None of that, love. It was but a question. I'm just trying to understand where my best mate went."

Emma shrugged, her eyes darting to the side to avoid his gaze. "She's been right here, Killian."

"Right here?" He shook his head dejectedly while motioning to the area around him with his free hand. "You haven't been here, love. When was was the last you ate breakfast with us? Or watched a movie with me? Do you know that Nate did not even want to go see Milah this evening because he wanted to see you when your returned home?" Using his free hand, Killian reached out and brushed his fingertips across her chin to get her to look at him. When their eyes meet, he continued. "I am not sure where you have been exactly, but I know it has not been with us, it has not been with your family."

A sob escaped her lips as the tears finally rolled over onto her cheeks. "My family?" She questioned, her voice soft and full of disbelief. "You're my best friend, Killian and Nate is your son. That's it. That is where it ends."

Pulling her hand free from his, she wiped her cheeks angrily. "And no matter how much I want that to change, how much I wish for it to change... it won't!" Dropping her gaze to the bed, Emma's shoulders dropped in defeat. "You are my best friend Killian, nothing more. How can we be a family when this is the truth of the matter?"

For a moment, he was speechless. He hadn't expected her outburst, hadn't expected her to reveal so much. But she had. She had and it was exactly what he hoped it would be. He just wondered if she realized what she had said.

Reaching out, Killian joined their hands once more. "Emma, love, look at me." She shook her head in refusal and Killian sighed before continuing. "Despite what you may believe, you are my family. You always have been and you always will be. I've missed you these last several weeks. I..."

His voice trailed off as the words caught in his throat. How could he make it clear to her that he wanted the same things she did. If she did in fact want what she had just said. He wanted her, he wanted to be her family, to be more for her. He wanted to wake up every morning next to her and fall asleep every evening the same way. He wanted to spend the weekend surrounded by her and her warmth. He wanted her to be a permanent figure in Nate's life.

And, perhaps he was getting ahead of himself, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life making Emma Nolan happy and filling their home with the laughter of their children. He wanted her to be his.

"Emma." He squeezed her hand, a vain attempt to get her to meet his gaze.

"No." She shook her head dejectedly. "I've missed it all, Killian. I've missed our late night talks, our early morning breakfasts. I've missed Nate. I've missed chasing him around the house and waking to his smile. I've missed…" Her voice wavered and Killian felt his heart skip a beat.

She was so serious, so raw. He could hear it in her voice, feel it in her presence. He'd known Emma his entire life, she was something like an open book to him and whatever she had to say was important to her, but it was also hard for her to speak it out loud. Which was why he couldn't help but feel like whatever she was going to say next would change his life forever.

"You." Her thumb brushed against the skin on the back of his hand gently. "I've missed you, Killian."

There was no denying that the past several weeks had been hard for Killian. In fact, it had been like a piece of his own heart was missing. Every day he woke up and walked around town, he took care of Nate and visited his brother, he worked on his novel and… and he waited. He waited for her to come home, waited for her to join them for breakfast, waited for her to see him as something more. But that was impossible because she wasn't there.

There was no denying that the past several weeks had been hard. In fact, it had been like a piece of his own heart was missing and he'd be a bloody fool if he didn't realize that piece was Emma. Because before everything he'd deemed important had come into his life, before writing, before sailing, before Milah, and before Nate…

There had always been Emma Nolan.

As his name died on her lips, as she lifted her head and met his gaze with her emerald eyes, he forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were full of honesty, full of trust, and, most importantly, they were full of what he hoped was love.

Slowly, without dropping his eyes, Killian pulled his hand from Emma's and lifted it to caress her cheek. "I've missed you too, love." He whispered the words as he pressed his forehead against hers. "And…" Killian paused for a moment and, before he could change his mind, dropped his hand to her waist.

Licking his lips, he searched her eyes once more for any indication that he was wrong in his feelings. Finding none, he murmured the words he'd been dying to say for weeks. "I love you, Emma Nolan."

Then, he inched forward and pressed his lips against hers.

The weight of Killian's lips against hers was something Emma never thought she would get the chance to experience. It was something… Something she'd rarely let herself think about because she'd been so sure it would never happen.

But, sometimes, in rare moments of weakness, her mind would wander and when it did… Well it had never like this. No…

This was far better than anything she'd ever imagined.

Sighing, Emma pressed herself further into the kiss, further into his lips. All of the tension she'd been feeling earlier, all of anger and pain, was gone the moment his lips pressed against hers and all she could think was that she wanted more.

She wanted him. She wanted all of him.

His fingertips trailed up and down her sides, goosebumps formed in their wake. Bending her legs at the knee, Emma shifted her weight atop of them. Her arms lifted, sliding from his chest so her hands could cup his cheeks and comb through the small amount of growth present there. After a moment, her hands continued their journey upward, her fingers locking through his hair.

Getting the hint, Killian moved his hands from her sides to her back and slipped them underneath her tank top. The feeling of his skin touching hers caused her to shiver.

Oh yes. This was way better than anything she'd ever imagined.

Lifting up to rest her weight on her knees, Emma towered over him and open her mouth to deepen the kiss. Following her lead, Killian dropped his head backwards and opened his lips. She felt him smile as he did it and she couldn't help it when her lips lifted ever so slightly.

One of Killian's hands moved from beneath her shirt and cradled the back of her neck. His fingers slid through her hair and tugged gently. Without thinking, her own hands dropped to the hem of his shirt and tugged it down. Then, up.

Off. She wanted it off. Wanted to feel the skin on his chest. To run her hands through the hair that was there.

Shaking his head, he released her hair and slid his other hand from under her shirt. Breaking the kiss, he wasted no time in replacing her hands on his shirt and pulling it over his head. As soon as it was off, Emma dove right back in and pressed her lips against his.

Her hands pressed against his chest, his skin felt like fire underneath beneath her. Hot. She was too hot. She wanted…

Circling his arms around her, Killian lifted himself to his knees and pressed forward. The moment her back hit the bed, she felt herself smile through their kiss once more.

Pressing his leg between hers, Killian's lips moved from her lips to her cheeks, under her ear, down, down, until he reached the skin of her neck. Wiggling, she pushed her body up in search of some type of friction.

God, she wanted him. Wanted him so badly she could feel it in the pit of her stomach, in the tips of her toes.

"Emma." He whispered into the skin of her neck. "Emma."

Her body went stiff as the sound of his voice hit her ears. It was like she'd been doused in cold water. Panic rose in her throat.

What the fuck was she doing?

This was Killian. She was making out with Killian. Killian, her best friend. Killian who had just gotten over his divorce to the love of his life. Killian who'd spent the last year wallowing in self-hate and hitting in rock bottom.

What the fuck was she doing?

Wasn't the whole reason she'd pull away the last couple of weeks to avoid this? To avoid ruining their friendship? Wasn't…

"Emma?" Killian's voice was full of confusion as he lifted himself up to catch her gaze. "Love?"

Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand flat against his bare chest. Her head shook, her eyes filled with tears. This was such a bad idea. This was…

"Stop." Her voice wobbled as the words left her lips. "Please stop."

Killian, ever the gentleman, immediately heeded her words and moved to sit next to her on the bed. Lifting his arm, he tugged the hair at the nape of his neck in confusion. "What… Emma I do not understand. What is the matter love?"

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out of her mouth quickly, though she is not sure what she is apologizing for.

His hand reached out and the moment she felt his skin against hers she jumped out of the bed. Standing next to the bed, she wrapped her arms around her waist and lifted her eyes to meet his.

As soon as her gaze locked on his, her heart shatters in her chest. His blue eyes are full of nothing but confusion and pain. Confusion and pain that she put there. She really messed this up.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Emma." His words were full of understanding as he begged her to listen. "Do not over think this, Emma. Please." His arm dropped to his side. "I love you."

But that was the whole problem. He loved her. It was something she never thought would happen. Something she's convinced herself was improbable because she knew that it didn't matter. He might love her and she might love him but, in the end, she would lose him. Just like she'd lost everyone else she'd ever loved.

You're incapable of love, Emma. That's what happens when you grow up the way you did. That's why you always lose the people who claim to love you.

Walsh's words from months ago come back to her in that instant. He was right. She'd hated him when he'd said it, but he was right.

Tightening her arms around her waist, she took a step away from the bed. She couldn't lose Killian too. Not him, anyone but Killian. Lifting her hand, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I… I can't." Biting her lip, she focused her gaze on the floor below her feet. "I can't lose you, too. I can't.."

In that moment, the feeling of warm hands as they cupped her cheeks pull her from of her thoughts. Killian stood in front of her, his head ducked in an attempt to catch her gaze. His eyes are full of kindness, of understanding, and of love. Her breath catches in her throat.

Despite what she knew, despite her fear of losing him, she cannot deny that she wanted him. She loves him.

"Hey." He whispered the word gently as she pulled her head up to meet his gaze further. "It's just me, Emma. Just me and you. I know you're scared. Bloody hell, I am too but… give me a chance, love. Give us a chance."

Give us a chance.

In that moment, Emma realized that she wanted nothing more than to do that very thing. She wanted a chance, a chance to figure out what they were, what they could be.

"Okay." Her lips lifted into a smile, lightness filled her chest as she felt her head nod. "Okay."

Killian grinned, his thumb rising to wipe at her cheek where the tears had fallen once more. "Yeah?" He questioned. "Truly?"

She felt her eyes crinkle as her smile widened. "Yes, truly. I love you, Killian Jones and I want to try."

Propelling herself forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Thank you for reading and please leave me a review to let me know what you think!

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs mafia #cs crew #learning to love (again)#my fic #hook x emma #emma x killian #killian jones #emma swan #update #that took forever #100000x apologies

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rufeepeach · 7 years

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Popular Fic

Tagged by @thescholarlystrumpet and @rowofstars!

I’m only doing fics where I’m the sole author because this gets wildly distorted with other authors involved!

What are your five most popular works by kudos? (in descending order)

1) Inheritance - OUAT, Rumbelle - Kudos: 515

Five years after leaving town to see the world, a death in the family forces Belle French back to Storybrooke to deal with the estate. Never intending to stay very long, she nevertheless soon finds herself drawn back into old friendships, old dreams, and an old love that’s not as finished as once she had hoped. Belle might be back in her hometown, but after five years away from the wreckage she left behind, is it possible to ever really come home?

I mean, I’d hope this’d be my most popular work - it took a year to write and is the length of a long novel! It’s also easily my most complete and coherent longfic, since it was meticulously planned, written, and edited as a whole before a single chapter got posted. I guess more chapters also just meant more chances for people to find it?

2) If I Didn't Know Better (but damn it, I do) - MCU, Darcy/Loki - Kudos: 503

In which Loki's illusions seem to malfunction when a particular supposedly-powerless brunette happens by, and Darcy is more than willing to use her taser.

I have no idea. Someone prompted TaserTricks and back in the days at the height of Hiddleston-mania this seemed like a good idea. I think MCU is such a big fandom that any moderately-readable work - especially with an Explicit rating - will have a larger audience than for something a little smaller like Rumbelle. I’m pretty pleased with the characterisation though, especially since my interest in the MCU - even back then, before I stopped caring entirely - was fairweather at best.

3) A Hundred Years or More - Maleficent - Kudos: 454

"I promise, no harm shall come to you whilst I live" - Maleficent never kisses Aurora, believing she has already done more harm than good, and instead resigns herself to watching over the sleeping princess for the rest of her days.

I made myself cry with this one. Probably my favourite thing I’ve ever written, it’s everything I hope to someday accomplish with an original work, tracking Maleficent’s eighty-four years watching over a comatose, unageing Aurora, as various characters grow old and die, and the world moves on, and Maleficent finds some peace. It’s very soft and very sad and I love it so much!

4) Harmless - OUAT, Rumbelle - Kudos: 333

Belle arrives, bruised and bleeding, on the doorstep of a lame spinner and his son. On the run from the war and its causes, her short stopover becomes something else entirely.

One of my earliest fics for Rumbelle fandom, although it took me years to complete in the end. This one was the first ever winner for best woobie!rumple in 2013′s TEAs! I wish now that I hadn’t rushed the ending so much, but by that point it was three years old and I needed it to be finished. This one’s probably the one I’d most like to go back and heavily edit or remix someday. Still, I reread it recently and it’s not half bad!

5) Stranger - OUAT, Rumbelle - Kudos: 289

Belle remembers everything about her old life, and finally gains freedom from her asylum prison. But Rumpelstiltskin is nowhere to be found: in his place is an oblivious pawnbroker who is as cursed as everyone else in Storybrooke.

A long-time favourite of mine among my Rumbelle fics, this one’s a trooper since it received only moderate attention on Tumblr when I posted it, but it seems to have steadily climbed the ranks on AO3? I’m glad this odd little fic is getting some love now :)

What are your five least popular works by kudos? (in ascending order)

(Okay so this is weird, because my AO3 is so unrepresentative of when I posted things? So for these I’m picking and choosing because a lot of my AO3 lowest page is just my old imported Castle, Community, and Glee fics and I’d rather not... drag those up... so I’m only counting fics posted after I left LJ. Also I’m not including bits of series that just got dumped on there when I realised I’d forgotten to cross-post years after the fact. Come at me.)

1) In Trouble - OUAT, Swanfire - Kudos: 18

Emma Swan knows Neal is trouble from the moment she meets him, but he’s also everything she’s been looking for.

This one is surprising because it got such a good reception on Tumblr when I posted it, so I guess this is a result of importing it to AO3 super late, and the lack of SF-shippers? Idk bro. I like this one a lot?

2) Falling In The Space Between - Dragon Age: Inquisition, Hawke/Varric - Kudos: 20

Varric visits Hawke in Skyhold the night after Adamant, and they discuss heroes, stories, and how the world suddenly got so much bigger and more difficult since Kirkwall.

I had feelings while playing DA:I. Sue me. This one’s a short, introspective character piece, and it’s hella sad.

3) Life in Black and White - OUAT, Snowing - Kudos: 21

Snow White was raised to hold onto goodness at all times, no matter the costs. No matter the damage she leaves in her wake.

Snow White character assassination piece, mostly focusing on how black and white morality, and her privileging of her own family above all else, has led to massive destruction in the name of ‘goodness’. I can totally see why no one read this, but again it got a better reception on Tumblr?

4) Seven Beaches - OUAT, Rumbelle - Kudos: 23

Seven times Belle and Rumpelstiltskin visited the beach.

Ah, 2012. Back before it was drilled into me that songfic is always wrong and bad. On the other hand this is kinda pretty? On the third hand I was eighteen and it shows, because dear God, varying your sentence length is always right and good. Hundreds of short sentences glued together does not equal poetry. I seem to remember rave reviews at the time but then we had like ten authors back then so who knows.

5) Disassociation - OUAT, Rumbelle - Kudos: 24

The man on the floor is not Belle’s husband.

Another short fic solely written because I had feelings, set immediately after the Town Line scene at the end of 4A. It’s dark, miserable, and very much written in that post-episode rush before things settle. Again, I get why no one would seek this out now.

No idea who’s done this yet, but I’ll tag @mariequitecontrarie, @amuseoffyre, @toseehowthestoryends, @ladybookwormwithteeth, and @worryinglyinnocent

#popular fic meme

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captainhookcaptainfreedom · 7 years

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The Intervention Team - CS AU Week 2K17 - Day 2: Crossover AU - OUAT/Glee

Ok. I’m posting this a day late mainly because I don’t like it. I decided to hell with it though! I think I want to do a serious rewrite of this at some point though.

This isn’t even really a “crossover au” per-se. But I’ve know decided that I really want to write OUAT and Glee crossover fics. FTR: It has been a while since I watched the season of Glee with them in NY with Adam Lambert and all that so my continuity with canon is not good. But there’s other things I’m just ignoring anyway. So that’s that.

“What did you forget now Elliott?” Kurt slid the door to his apartment open, expecting his friend and bandmate to be the one knocking.

Well, the blond girl standing in front of him most definitely was not Elliott Gilbert.

She stood on the other side of his door, a huge smile across her face. She didn’t look like Kurt remembered, but it was definitely her. “Emma!” he shouted happily as he pulled her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled at him even brighter. “I got into NYU! I’m transferring in for the second semester. I just arrived in New York today and there wasn’t a single thing better I could think to do then go visit Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt shook his head slowly. He was still amazed that she was even here! “Emma Swan, I am so happy you are getting out of Lima,”

She laughed as she made her way inside. “Trust me, no one could possibly be happier than I am.” She did a small little twirl. “This is a pretty nice place.”

“The place is nice, but I could definitely use some better roommates,” Kurt said with an eyeroll.

“Oh,” Emma made a wincing face. “That’s right, isn't it? You have the pleasure of living with the amazing Miss Rachel Berry and the most satanic of all devils, Santana Lopez.”

“God, I’ve missed you Emma Swan.”

“Oh me too!” She hugged him again. “Now tell me what’s new in the world of Kurt Hummel!”

They plopped down on the couch, Emma stripping off her red leather jacket as they did. “Well,” he began, “you know that NYADA was a bust.”

“Don’t be silly Kurt. NYADA’s the one missing out. There’s no way you’re not getting in if you apply again. No. Way.”

Kurt hummed noncommittally. “You’re one to talk. You were absolutely convinced that I was guaranteed to get into NYADA the first time around and just as convinced that no college would ever accept you. Now look where we are.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Alright. I’ll admit that I was wrong. I know you though. I know that you wouldn’t have let a rejection from NYADA keep you from taking NYC by storm. Tell me what you’ve been doing!”

“Well, I have a job at a diner. It’s real cute. You’ll have to come by sometime. I’ve also got an internship at Vogue.”

“You do not!” Emma whacked his arm.

“I do.” He shrugged and held back a smile. “I also started a band.”

“You have been one busy bee Kurt Hummel. I wish I could say the same about me.”

“Oh come on Emma. I know Lima’s not the most exciting place in the world, but you're special. Something must have happened, especially if you decided to head on here to New York.”

Emma hesitated. She’d always been a very private person. But this was Kurt. He’d always been there for her. He was the one who’d convinced her to join Glee. He was the one who found out she was pregnant. He was the one who had stood by her through everything. He would be happy for her. “I-” she took a breath. “I broke up with Neal. For real this time. And forever.”

Kurt reached out and took her hand. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“I thought Neal had left Lima.”

“He did. He came back though.” She shrugged. “He’s working for his dad now. It seems like he’s going to be staying in Lima for a while. I’m not though.”

“I’m glad.” Kurt gave her a small smile. “I’m so happy you're here.”

“Me too,” she sighed happily.

There was a knock at the door. Kurt rolled his eyes but got up to open it. “I swear, Santana if you forget your keys one more time-” It wasn’t Santana behind the door. “Oh! Elliott,”

“Hey Kurt,” the other man greeted cheerfully. “I’m not Santana,” he laughed, a small smirk pulling at his lips. Kurt just raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but I think I left my phone here. At least I’m hoping I did. I got back to my place and couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“Come on in. Look around.”

“Thanks, Kurt. Oh!” Elliott had spotted Emma. He looked between Emma and Kurt. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” he joked.

“This is Emma Swan. She’s a friend from high school. She’s moving to New York. And Emma, this is Elliott Gilbert. He’s one of my bandmates.”

“Kurt has mentioned you so many times. It’s nice to have a face to go with the name.” Elliott walked over to Emma and offered his hand. “And welcome to New York!”

“Thanks.” She hesitated for a moment but did shake Elliott’s hand. She and Kurt hadn’t talked much since he left for New York, but she was certain that there had never been any mention of an Elliott Gilbert. He certainly wasn’t the type that she would have expected Kurt to hang out with. Although he was cute and Emma would bet anything that he was gay. “So, how did you and Kurt meet? Do you go to NYADA or work at the diner?”

Elliott laughed. “A huge no to both of those. Kurt and I meeting was purely because of the band. It was all chance really. I’m a student at NYU and I honestly never even thought about going to that diner until I knew Kurt worked there.”

“You go to NYU?”

“Yeah,” Kurt interjected. “Emma’s starting at NYU. There you go Em, you’re already making friends.”

Emma eyed Elliott a bit warily, but he just smiled at her. “I would love to talk to you both, but I seriously do need to find my phone and run. I need to see a guy about a gig.” He turned to Kurt. “I’ve got this friend, he’s my tattoo artist actually, and he works at this bar that hires local bands to play live music. I think this might be a chance for us.”

“I’m going to trust your judgement on this one.”

Elliott wore an exaggerated look of surprise on his face.”Kurt Hummel is letting someone else make a decision? Did I step into an alternate dimension somewhere?”

Kurt whacked him playfully. “Get your phone and go. I want some time with my friend.”

After Elliott had raised his phone in the air accompanied by a triumphant shout, he had quickly hugged Kurt, waved goodbye to Emma, and left with a promise to call Kurt as soon as he had news on the gig.

“So,” Emma started after Elliott left, “what’s going on there?”

“Where?” Kurt looked at her, bewildered. Emma nodded toward the door where Elliott had left. “Elliott? You think there’s something going on between Elliott and I?”

Emma’s eyes answered well, duh!

“Elliott and I are just friends. We’re good friends.”

“Hmm. Is he gay?”

“Yes.” Kurt answered begrudgingly.

“And single?”

Kurt sighed but nodded his head, resigned.

“You know me Kurt. I believe that all romance ends in heartbreak. Guys simply aren’t worth it. I also know you, though. I know you believe in all that romantic drivel. I also know that the confident Kurt Hummel I knew back in senior year wouldn’t be letting that slip through his fingers.”

“There’s a lot of gay guys in New York, Emma. Elliott is a friend.”

“Alright, alright. But, you do remember my superpower don’t you?”

Pamela Lansbury officially had a gig two weeks later. Kurt insisted that Emma come along. She wanted to. First of all, seeing Kurt perform again would be worth a trip to New York even if she weren’t transferring. And maybe there was a small part of her that wanted to support Rachel and Santana. Also, Elliot had made a decent first impression, but if he was a potential boyfriend for her best friend, then she was going to need to find out a bit more about “Starchild”.

That’s how Emma Swan had found herself sitting in a bar (despite being under 21 and having no desire to drink) on a Tuesday night.

Somehow, she’d also ended up sitting right next to a friend of Elliott Gilbert. She just hadn’t known it at first.

“They’re actually pretty good,” he remarked beside her after they had played their first couple songs.

“Of course they’re good,” she’d said.

He looked over at her. “Is that so, love?”

His endearment definitely rubbed her the wrong way. “Why shouldn’t they be good?” She turned to face him. “Just because they’re students doesn’t mean they can’t be good. More than half of the music you hear on the radio nowadays is by artists who made it big before they were even 21.”

“Woah, woah, lassie. I never said I expected them to be bad. Quite on the contrary, I was hoping they’d be this good. It’s just my first time seeing them is all.” He gave her a weird look. “What are you? Some groupie?”

“No!” she said, insulted. “I just have friends in the band.”

“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow. “So do I.”

She looked him over. He was obviously handsome. He definitely had a certain style though. He wore dark eyeliner and a good amount of leather. His ears were pierced and most of the skin Emma could see was covered in tattoos. So, was he Dani’s friend? Or Elliott’s? “Who?” she asked simply.

“The tall dark haired one,” he pointed to Elliott. “Elliott Gilbert. I’ve known him for years now. Half of his tattoos are my art. You know him?”

Emma wasn’t sure what to say. “We’ve only met briefly. I really haven’t talked to him. I was hoping to get to know him better tonight.”

“So who are you here for?”

“Kurt Hummel. I guess I’m also here for Rachel and Santana, but it’s really just for Kurt.”

Killian nodded his head. “So that’s why you want to know more about Elliott.”

Emma was surprised but tried to school her features back to neutral. “What do you mean?”

Killian laughed. “You want to know if Elliott is good enough for you friend. Don’t worry. I won’t tell either of them. After all, part of the reason I wanted them to have a gig here is so I could observe your friend Kurt. Elliott’s been bringing him up quite a bit lately.”

Emma eyed him again. “So are you getting the same vibes from the two of them that I am?”

“Are you getting the “just friends” line?”

Emma and Killian shared a look.

“Maybe they really are just friends. The, shall we call it chemistry, on stage is a bit difficult to ignore though.”

Emma snorted. “They can deny it all they want, but eventually they’re going to have to face the truth. Even if it means we have to stage some type of intervention.”

“Killian Jones,” he stuck out his hand. “Your devilishly handsome Kelliott teammate.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Of course not love. I am most definitely devilishly handsome.”

So yeah. That was barely any CS. Emma is also super OOC. This needs a rewrite so badly!!!! (maybe next week?)

I also have a graphic for this universe that I will hopefully get up tomorrow.

#cs au week 2k17 #cs #captain swan #ouat #fanfiction #once upon a time #fanfic #crossover #crossover au #glee #kelliot #there wasn't suppose to be this much kelliot #emma swan #killian jones #kurt hummel #elliott gilbert #crossover fic

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takemetoyourlieder · 7 years

Text

Rules: Answer the questions - not restricted to one fandom. Tag as many people as you’d like afterward.

I was tagged by @detectivedimple - Thank you! :) (I’m sorry this is so long and that I cheated a little and went over the category limit a few times. My indecisiveness knows no bounds. Gah).

First ever fandom ————–Officially/on Tumblr? Castle. But if you want to go way back, it would probably be Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I mean, I did spend many many recesses in second grade geeking out over all things Sabrina with my teacher lol. And then ALSO technically I sort of just watched from afar in a couple of fandoms surrounding lesbian couples from age 16 through 18…stayed up late reading a lot of fic senior year of HS lol. But OFFICIALLY and certainly here on Tumblr my first fandom was Castle. :)

First ever ship————-Um…probably Cory and Topanga from Boy Meets World? I know I shipped Sabrina and Harvey from Sabrina the Teenage Witch during certain periods of time, and I remember having strong shippery feelings about the series finale above all. But I don’t think I TRULY started shipping fictional characters until after I had figured out my sexuality. Before that I think it was hard for me to connect to the concept of actively shipping characters for a number of reasons. After that it was like… Ka-pow. Both LGBTQ and cishet couple shipping where it hadn’t or had barely existed before.

First death that made you cry/upset? ———– Um. Tbh I’m not really sure. Possibly Tara Maclay, BtVS. I started watched BtVS a good while after it had ended, and I knew going into it that Tara dies at some point and it’s a big deal and the worst, but somehow I missed ever reading exactly WHEN or HOW she died… So when I watched “Seeing Red” for the first time, many years later, I was still taken totally by surprise by Tara’s death. And I just remember thinking “WTF WTF WTF… THAT’S how it happened? That’s WHEN it happened? WTF?!?!” …and just in general her fate/the repeating of the event on “previously on” was upsetting after that.

Although also potentially - Adam Torres, Degrassi. That character death was unexpected and completely unnecessary, and they did that to their first and only (and young) trans character, and I was pissed about it. Forever am tbh.

OTP? ————————- Sanvers (SUPERGIRL), Caskett (Castle), Wayhaught (Wynonna Earp), Wyndolls (Wynonna Earp), Swan Queen (OUAT), Stef x Lena (The Fosters), Cophine (Orphan Black), Clois!!! (Smallville), Ben x Leslie (Parks and Recreation), Luke x Lorelai (Gilmore Girls), Paris x Rory (Gilmore Girls), Rizzles (Rizzoli & Isles), Doccubus (Lost Girl), Valkubus (Lost Girl), Bo/Lauren/Tamsin (Lost Girl), Even more SUPERGIRL ships (Supercat, Karolsen, Supercorp), Skimmons/also known as BioQuake (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Cartinelli (Agent Carter), Bering and Wells (Warehouse 13), Tara x Willow (BtVS), Buffy x Faith (BtVS), Bechloe (Pitch Perfect), Brittana (Glee), Faberry (Glee)… and the list goes on lol NOTP? ———————– K*ramel, C$, 0Q, Skyew*rd

5 Favorite female characters (THIS IS SO HARD/I had to cheat a little and do multiple for SUPERGIRL…and more)——————————- 1. Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers, Maggie Sawyer - SUPERGIRL 2. Sarah Manning, Orphan Black (but also ALL the female clones OB. Orphan Black is so good, okay?) 3. Kate Beckett, Castle 4. Bill Potts, Doctor Who (I love her SO much already, and I can already tell that she’s probably going to become my most favorite DW Companion) 5. Leslie Knope, Parks and Recreation 6. This is cheating, but I feel like I can’t leave out the iconic Buffy Summers, BtVS 7. This is cheating even more, but I really can’t leave out Wynonna Earp of the show of the same name

5 Favorite male characters (I cheated a little and doubled up some because I’m ridiculously indecisive/admittedly I haven’t spent as much time thinking about male characters in comparison to female characters)—————- 1. J'onn J'onzz and James Olsen, SUPERGIRL 2. Alec Hardison and Eliot Spencer, Leverage 3. J.J. DiMeo, Speechless (ABC) 4. Luke Danes, Gilmore Girls 5. Aaron Baker, The Fosters (three dimensional trans characters played by trans actors who also get to be romantic interests to main characters on the show FTW!) 6. I have to cheat a little and continue this list because Tony Sawicki, Orphan Black! I love him. I miss him. I hope he comes back in season 5. He’s one badass, confident, complex, chill character and trans guy. 7. I’m officially cheating so much with this list, but I have to give a shoutout to Adam Torres of Degrassi, just because feels. I love that kid. (Again, trans character rep but NOTE: played by a cis girl and was eventually killed off the show. GRRRR)

5 Favorite actors/actresses——— 1. Chyler Leigh 2. Tatiana Maslany 3. Stana Katic 4. Lana Parrilla 5. Hayley Atwell

6 Favorite characters who died/left the show————————– 1. Adam Torres (Forever pissed about it) 2. Tess Mercer, Smallville (I know it was at the very end, but I’m still emotional about it, okay? WHY) 3. Tara Maclay, BtVS (UGHHHH) 4. Cat Grant, SUPERGIRL (I know she’s - spoiler alert - coming back for the season finale and might pop back in on the rare occasion after that, but she has essentially left the show and I miss her!!!). 5. Tamsin, Lost Girl (TAMSIN DESERVED BETTER. And while we’re at it - HALE DESERVED BETTER) 6. Cordelia Chase and Fred Burkle, Buffyverse/Angel the Series (CORDELIA AND FRED DESERVED BETTER)

3 Favorite characters from shows you stopped watching——————- 1. Winston Bishop, New Girl (although I want to catch up on New Girl eventually lol) 2. The Android, Dark Matter 3. Cassandra Cillian, The Librarians (possibly? I had barely really watched… I hear she’s now a canon wlw and tbh I kind of want to watch the show again now lol) 3 Favorite characters from shows that have ended——————— 1. Kate Beckett, Castle 2. Leslie Knope, Parks and Recreation 3. Peggy Carter, Agent Carter

2 Favorite shows you started watching in the past year———— 1. Wynonna Earp 2. Speechless (ABC) 3. I have to cheat and add Powerless (NBC) because I’ve been loving it so far

Favorite TV Show—————–SUPERGIRL, Orphan Black, Castle, Leverage, Gilmore Girls, Parks and Recreation, The Fosters, Steven Universe (although I’m way behind on that), Doctor Who

Shows you want to watch————One Day at a Time, Brooklyn Nine-Nine (I know - how did I miss this to begin with?), Coupleish, Person of Interest, Jessica Jones, Sense8, The Get Down, OITNB? (Possibly The OA? I need to learn more about it). And I’m probably forgetting others

I’m tagging @sassyyetsimple and any of my followers, really, who would like to do this! :)

#I'm sorry this is so long and took forever and is full of information that no one asked for #fandom things #about me

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lotus0kid · 7 years

Note

Rumbelle meet at a grief support group.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 6th

((Warning: dead parent talk. The book featured at the end is by Pat Thomas.))

Gold finishes updating his account book and checks hiswatch. He pulls on his coat and gloves, andgoes to his car. He takes a deliberate wrongturn out of town, then doubles back to continue on to the next little patch ofcivilization along the Maine coast. Hisprecautions eat into his time cushion so he only has a few minutes to limp intothe brightly-lit community center and down the hall to an all-purposeroom. A sign taped to the room’s doorreads: “PARENTAL LOSS GRIEF GROUP 7PM TO 9PM”.

He sees the usual attendees have all arrived, getting cupsof water or a cookie from a tray set on a table pushed against one wall. There are some new faces, including one hecan’t help giving a second glance- a young woman talking with Dr. Hopper. The fluorescent lights catch on her richbrown hair and sky blue eyes. Gold quicklytrains his gaze on the floor, reminding himself firmly this isn’t a bloodyspeed-dating event. He takes off hisgloves, tucking them in a pocket before laying his coat across the back of a foldingchair among the ones arranged in a circle. He sits with his cane leaning against his thigh and waits for everyoneelse to take their places.

Once the group is settled, with the young woman choosing thechair directly across from Gold, Dr. Hopper greets them in his soft, carefulvoice, “Hello, everyone. I’m glad to seeyou all. Tonight, we’ll start out bysharing our loss. Anyone who wants tospeak is more than welcome. If you’renew and aren’t ready to share, listening is perfectly fine. Aaron, would you like to go first?”

A corner of Gold’s mouth curls up. “He starts with me because what happened wasso bad it makes everyone else feel better.”

Faint laughter floats up from the circle, most of it uncomfortable,but Gold notices genuine amusement on the young woman’s face.

“It’s not a competition, Aaron,” Hopper gently chides him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, “Well, all right then. Up to the age of nine, I lived with myfather. And I loved him, the way a dogloves a cruel master. Even after heabandoned me, I still had to teach myself to hate him. Then- let’s see, about six months back- heshows up. I’ve done well in life, nothanks to him, of course I assumed he’d heard and was after money. He says he’s sick. I don’t believe him. I tell him to fuck off, that he had hischance to be a dad and he gave it up, I didn’t owe him anything. A little while later, a doctor rings me. Says my father’s dying. Somehow, I still think it’s a trick, ascam. That’s all my father was good at,after all. Another week goes by, and hecomes back again. And I tell him to fuckoff again. He begs me to listen, forgivehim before it’s too late. I don’t doeither. I shove him away. And he… He just collapses, like he’s made of paper. And he died, there in my front hall.”

The image of the man who once seemed like a titan now lyingin a crumpled heap on the floor is burned into Gold’s mind. He lets himself stare at it for a silentmoment.

“I didn’t expect to feel much about it. He was a bastard, who lived like a teenagerinstead of a man. It’s only surprisinghe made it as long as he did. But Ican’t…” He coughs against his tightening throat. “I can’t let it go. I can’t let him go. Still a little dog, running after his master.”

His gaze wanders to the young woman, morbidly curious abouther reaction to his tale of woe. Hefinds her looking back steadily, a pure beacon of sympathy. He looks away.

“Thank you for sharing, Aaron,” Hopper says, “It’s importantto remember that the relationship you had with your parent is complicated,sometimes it can be more negative than positive. Their death amplifies a lot of the feelingsthat are part of that relationship. Andit takes time to process. Who else wouldlike to share?”

Hopper’s words are more for the new people than Gold- theyaren’t anything he hasn’t heard already. Processing, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Like if he puts the pieces of his grief inthe right order, it will slot into his brain somewhere in the back where hewon’t have to think about it anymore. Itseems as much shite as it did when he first heard it. And yet, even he knows coming here is betterthan sitting alone in his big house, emptying bottles of scotch. Or nearly breaking down in the middle ofcollecting rent from Michael Tillman when his son ran into the room to askabout dinner.

He has to deal with this, process it. At least beforehis own son’s semi-annual visit. Milahcan’t find out how unstable Gold’s become or she might take him back to courtto steal even more custody. And probablymore alimony, to pay the nannies who actually raise Neal while she sails offwith Jones again.

The meeting continues, with more sad stories shared and inthe second half a discussion of the values passed along by the dearlydeparted. Gold stays silent during this,as does the young woman. She doesn’t saya word the whole meeting, but gives everyone her earnest attention.

Gold leaves as soon as the meeting ends, his mind the usualmess of muddy emotions and no answers. He’s halfway down the hall when someone calls, “Aaron?”

He pauses and turns, and no one but the young woman jogstoward him, gorgeous hair bouncing on her shoulders. It’s such an arresting sight it takes far toolong for him to say, “Yes?”

“These fell out of your pocket,” she replies in a charmingAustralian accent while holding out his gloves.

“Oh, right, thank you.” Gold takes the gloves, half embarrassed and half glad for hiserror. “You, ah- you’re new to thegroup, aren’t you?”

She bites her lower lip for a tantalizing instant. “Yeah, I am. I’m Belle.”

Belle. Beautiful. Of course. “Hello, Belle. Sorry for… whatever brought you here.”

She winces and he kicks himself. “Thanks. Anyway, um, I’ve got to go.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Goodnight.”

“G’night.” She whipsaround and jogs back down the hall.

“Well done,” Gold grumbles at himself. Not that he expected her to fall into hisarms, but he could at least not shine a spotlight on her trauma. He escapes from the community center and backto his car, pressing the gas to get back to Storybrooke as quickly as possible.

—

Belle is at the next meeting, and this time Hopper asks herto share. Her eyes widen and he seems asecond away from letting her off the hook, but she says, “Okay. I can… I can try.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

“Well, um… Hi, everyone. Uh, so, a little while ago…” She stops and frowns at her lap. Hopper again seems about to move on, but she speaks again, forcing thewords out, “My mother was very important to me. She was my best friend. She waseverything I wanted to be. She wassmart. And kind. And… and so brave. She did what she wanted with her life. So, um… We were in the car together. Idon’t even remember where we were going. There was an accident, and we went off the road, into a river. My mum got me out, but she didn’t makeit. And now it’s like… Everything Ido- it’s all about her. If I’m not… IfI don’t do something worthwhile, then it’s like… what was the point of losingher?” Belle swallows hard, blinks awaytears. “So yeah. That’s about it.”

Gold feels a sting in his own eyes, despite how little hecan relate to her story. Malcolm Goldisn’t worth mourning, which makes his grief all the more irritating. But for him to die saving Gold- he’s not surehow Belle lives with the pressure. Hewatches her grab one of the readily-available tissues and blow her nose. Above the white wad, her eyes dart to Goldand away before he can arrange his features into any kind of warm and caringconfiguration. Tonight after sharingpersonal stories the group discusses setting up small memorials at home, anactivity Gold will not be taking part in. He thinks Belle might be in danger of devoting her entire living spaceto honoring her mother, if she isn’t careful.

Somehow as the meeting breaks up Gold finds himself holdingthe door for Belle. And, even moreimplausibly, she falls into step with him on the way out of the communitycenter.

“Can I tell you something?” she murmurs.

“Uh, what?” he suavely responds.

“I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to be getting out ofthese meetings. I don’t feelbetter. I really hope I don’t have totell the whole story again. Just layingit all out like that is not my favorite thing to do.”

“That might be the point of it though,” Gold offers, “Likegoing up in tall buildings when you’re afraid of heights. If you… let yourself feel the grief againand again, maybe it starts to hurt less.”

“Is that how it’s been for you?” Belle asks, looking at himwith worried wrinkles set in her forehead.

“I said ‘maybe,’ didn’t I?” he quips, then sighs, “It’sgoing to be hard for a while. You’veonly been to two meetings. Give yourselftime to…”

“To ‘process’?” she says with a cocked eyebrow.

Gold can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, whatever that means.”

Belle giggles, and Gold feels like Prince Charming. “Really though, how are you dealing withthings? It sounds like it was prettyintense, what you went through.”

Gold tries not to gape at her, the first person to actuallycare about his well-being, aside from Neal. He half-shrugs. “I take it oneday at a time, I suppose. Try to focuson the good things. Give myselfsomething to look forward to.” Neal’supcoming visit is the one shining light on Gold’s horizon.

“Right, right…” Belle murmurs with an odd hunger in hereyes.

“Anyway, um, I have to go. Good night.”

She blinks and steps back, “Oh, yeah, okay. Good night.”

“See you at the next meeting?”

Her mouth twists into a smile. “Sure.”

Gold returns to his car with a fluttery feeling in hisstomach he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

—

As twisted as it is, Gold is actually eager to go to thenext meeting. He takes the direct routefrom Storybrooke, breaking his pattern of disguising his destination. Just once won’t hurt. People can’t be that interested in spying onthe town’s miserly beast of a landlord. He’s probably been overly paranoid from the start.

He spots Belle on her mobile outside the community center onhis way in. When he gives her a wave asshe looks up, she stuffs the device into her coat pocket and smiles wide. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

A tiny pulse of heat thrums through his veins. “And you. Shall we?”

“I guess so.”

After the attendees are given the chance to tell theirstories, the discussion moves to the recent events in their lives they wishthey could share with the people they’ve lost.

“I wish…” Gold starts, hardly realizing he’s spoken whenthe words come out. The group’s focuscomes to him, and the weight of their expectant silence has him looking only atBelle. Speaking only to her. “I wish my father had known about myson. Not met him, he- he didn’t belongaround children. But… I love Neal so much. I would do anything for him. I don’t know, maybe I just want to gloatabout it. That I’m a better dad than him. Or I try to be, at least. It isn’t easy, I can say that. But I’ll never run, like he did.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Hopper says, “I’m sure all of theparents here know how healing it can be to spend time with their children. But I’d advise you all to be careful not to suppressyour grief for the sake of them. Deathis a part of life. Someday they’ll loseyou too. It’s important to set anexample of how to grieve in a healthy way. It may be one of the most important lessons you’ll teach your children.”

Somehow that never occurred to Gold, that the day is comingwhen he will leave Neal. Not in the sameway he was left, but just as permanently. The immutable fact chills him, and he knows his dread is plain on hisface from the concern Belle is beaming at him. The meeting ends soon after, but Gold stays seated while everyone elsestands and prepares to go. He just needsa moment alone to think, and he decides he shouldn’t be driving a car when ithappens.

Belle lags behind though she’s put on her coat, and he can’ttell if he’s glad for it or not as she wanders over to his chair and asks, “Hey, are you okay?”

Gold’s muddy mess of emotions only allows him to shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it? Come on, we can go-” She’s interrupted by a buzz from herpocket. He watches her take her mobileout, and her eyes widen as she looks at the screen, jumping from it to Gold andback. “Oh, um, excuse me, I’ll just be aminute…”

Gold frowns as she all but bolts from the room. Fresh worry finds him over what might be thematter with Belle. She didn’t speakthroughout the meeting, hardly seemed engaged at all until Gold’s littlespeech. He finds himself standing,shrugging into his coat, and nodding to Hopper before leaving the room. He spots Belle with the mobile held to herear as she pushes through the community center’s main entrance doors.

He follows, trailing her several steps down the sidewalk, movingjust close enough to hear her say, “Sure, Mum, that sounds fine.”

Gold freezes. Atfirst he’s nearly convinced he misheard, that she couldn’t possibly be talkingto her mother.

“Five o’clock, yes, Dad already told me. I’ll be there. Okay, love you too, Mum. Bye.”

Still he’s willing to believe the poisonous thoughtsswirling in his head are just his trusty paranoia. But then Belle puts the mobile away and turnsaround. The guilt that fills her face atthe sight of him floods Gold with anger. “What is this?” he growls.

“I, um… please, j-just let me explain,” Belle stammers.

“Why are you here? Aside from Hopper you never spoke to anyone but me. Why? Who else have you been talking to? Is it Regina?” The illustriousMayor Mills has been digging for information on Gold’s father since theambulance left his house. Gold’s spenthalf a fortune burying Malcolm’s host of indiscretions. He never thought she’d stoop so low as tosend a spy into a grief support meeting.

“I don’t know who Regina is, I swear. I… I’m a writer.”

The non sequitur is just enough to interrupt Gold’s mountingrage. “What the hell are you talkingabout?”

“I write. Books. Look, I didn’t lie. My mother died saving me from a sinking car. It was in the news, you can look it up. Her name was Colette French. It happened in Melbourne on Septembertenth-” She pauses, shame writhing onher face, “1992.”

The meeting is only for the recently bereaved. It’s not impossible Hopper made an exception,but everything about Belle in this moment says he has no idea. “If that’s true, who were you just talkingto?”

“My stepmother, Elisa. She’s been as good as my mum for the last fifteen years, so that’s whatI call her.”

“Convenient,” Gold snaps, “And none of that explains whyyou’re here.”

Belle heaves a breath, eyes briefly slipping shut inanguish. “I’m writing a book. And… it involves a character losingsomeone. I- I know, I could’ve justdrawn on my own experience. But I was soyoung when it happened. And I needed adifferent perspective. A man’sperspective, on losing his father. Afather who had left him.”

Gold gapes at her, violation roaring through him. “So, that was it. The only reason you spoke to me. To find out what it’s like when a man’sworthless father drops dead on his door step. What the hell is wrong withyou?”

Shoulders hunched with misery, Belle mutters into her chest,“It has to be perfect.”

Gold sneers, “Ah, right, for your poor sainted hero mum, eh?”

Belle’s eyes jump to him and flash with anger as she bitesout, “Don’t.”

“Oh, excuse me,” he simpers, “Do you not like people tomention her? At least not while you’re busycannibalizing their grief for the sake of entertainment.”

Misery rushes back into her face. “I’m sorry. I won’t write it. I promise I won’t.”

“That is for goddamn certain. If I ever hear of you publishing a book, youcan at least count on making one sale. I’ll read every bloody word, and if it sounds even remotely likeanything I’ve said, I will ruinyou. Is that clear?”

She nods at her shoes. “Very.”

“Wonderful. Solong.” He stalks past her, taking deepbreaths to clear his mind for the drive home.

Well, so much for his adventure in grief counseling. Looks like he’s back to downing scotchalone. That’ll have to do.

—

Gold smiles wide as an airport attendant leads Neal intoBaggage Claim.

“Papa!” the boy cries and races to close the distancebetween them and throw himself into Gold’s arms. He only staggers slightly on his bad leg,which is impressive considering how much bigger Neal is than the last time Goldsaw him.

“Hello, son, did you have a good trip?” he murmurs into Neal’s hair.

“It took forever! Can we go home?”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, they’re in Gold’s house sharing a pizzaand catching up. Neal’s told him justabout everything there is to know about the third grade. Gold has devoured every word and eagerlyasks, “What else?”

“Uh, well- oh!” Theboy’s face lights up and he bounds off to where his backpack rests against thesofa. He digs in it for a bit and runsback. “Look, I got another Giddy book.”

“Did you?” Gold iswell-versed in the Giddy series Nealhas been reading over the last few months. He can name all the characters and settings and he’s been spoiled forevery plot twist. However, he was notaware until this moment of the author’s name. Belle French glares up athim from the book’s vibrant cover. Withhis emotions threatening to swirl into another muddy mess, he shoves it alldown and plasters on another smile for Neal. “What’s Giddy up to this time, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know everything yet, because I just started. Hey, did you know the writer lives near here?”

“I do now.”

“And, did you know? Sometimeswriters go places and they’ll sign your book for you.”

“That they do.”

“If the Giddy ladysigns books somewhere, can we go?”

Gold would rather set his own hair on fire. “Of course we can.”

After Neal goes to sleep, Gold reads the book from cover tocover. Of course it was probably wellinto production before he even met Belle, but he has to be sure. Also, for kid-lit, it’s actually quite good,damn it all. He finds himself staring atthe photo of her on the back. The muddymess rears up again, and now, alone in the dark, he lets it claim him for awhile.

He’s painfully aware of Belle’s unexpected and unwantedpresence in his life for the next several months as Neal continues to plowthrough her Giddy books. At the end of every update Neal gives him, hereminds Gold to take him to a signing, if there is one. And, to Gold’s dismay, one August afternoonNeal informs him that such an event is happening, right nearby. “Mom said I can’t go. But can I mail you my books to getsigned? Pleeeaaase?”

“Sure, all right,” Gold says through a tight smile. He reminds himself to expect an invoice fromMilah for the shipping.

“Yay! Thank you,thank you, thank you!” Gold basks inNeal’s joy for as long as he can before the dread kicks in.

No matter. Once Nealgives him the time and place, he vows to go and get it done. It’s not like he needs to have a three-hourchat with Belle. Just in and out. Short and sweet. Maybe he’ll get lucky and there won’t be apersonalized signing, just a stack of autographed copies of the new productshe’s out hawking. He’ll buy whatever itis for Neal and call it a day.

He does his best not to even think about it until the lastpossible moment. Which is why he’scaught unawares by the fact that it isn’t a new Giddy book Belle’s written. It’s something else. Somethingcalled I Miss You. It’s a book for kids Neal’s age oryounger. It’s bright and colorful, andit describes what death is and what happens when a loved one dies. Feeling slightly dazed, Gold gravitates tothe rows of folding chairs set before a small lectern and sits down in theback.

With a tall stack of Giddybooks on his knee, Gold watches as Storybrooke Public Library’s managerintroduces Belle to the audience. Shecomes to the lectern holding a copy of IMiss You and gives everyone a smile which falters the second her eyes landon Gold. Her gaze drops briefly and sheswallows behind a frown. Then she setsthe book on the lectern and opens it. “Thanks for having me here today. I hope you like the book. I Miss You, by Belle French, illustratedby Leslie Harker.” She begins to read, “Everyday someone is born. And every daysomeone dies…”

The book is written simply and clearly. It assures children that death is natural, asis their varied reactions to it. Thatthey don’t need to blame themselves when it happens. It presents questions that invite children toshare their feelings and experiences when a death occurs. It’s not perfect. It’s gentle, and it’s beautiful.

She takes a few questions afterwards. “What inspired you to write this?” someoneasks.

“Well, mainly… this is the book I wish I’d had when I lostmy mother as a child. I’ve been, um,processing that lately. And it just feltlike something I had to do.”

Signed copies are available as a gift in exchange for adonation to the library. Gold takes twoand hands the manager a substantial check. “You can have them personalized if you want, sir,” the manager says,gesturing to where Belle is sitting behind a table.

Gold hefts the Giddystack and his copies of I Miss Youunder his free arm, mentally recites his vow, and gets in the growing queue. His heart thuds a little harder as everyperson ahead of him has their moment with Belle and departs. When he finally stands before her, sheventures the tiniest, wariest smile and murmurs, “Hey.”

“My son loves your books,” he states.

He sets the stack in front of Belle, who scans it up anddown with raised eyebrows. “I suppose hedoes. His name is Neal, right?”

Gold can’t imagine why she remembers, and he almost wants tobe angry she does. “It is.”

It takes several minutes that Gold spends in silence andmore than mild discomfort, but eventually Belle writes a unique message forNeal in every book. She pushes the stackback to him, eyes focused on it while she says, “Thank you for coming, Aaron. It means a lot.”

He could snarl that it wasn’t his choice, he’s only here forNeal, he couldn’t care less about her or her books. Instead he returns the stack to its placeunder his arm and gives her a nod. “Goodnight, Belle.”

The next day he’s preparing the books to be shipped back toNeal, idly flipping through I Miss Youonce again when he lands on the dedication page. It simply reads, “To Colette, Moe, Elisa, andAaron.”

He takes a deep breath around his aching heart, and finishesboxing up the books. A week later, hesits on his sofa and cradles his mobile to his ear. “Hello, son, did the books arrive?”

“Yeah! I can’tbelieve she signed all of them. That’s so cool!”

“And you got an extra, didn’t you? Miss French’s brand new book.”

“Uh huh. ‘I MissYou.’ It’s not a Giddy book.”

“No, it isn’t. I gota copy for myself too. I’d like to readit with you, if you’re interested.”

“Okay, I guess. Why?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something. Or, someone. His name was Malcolm. He was myfather, your grandfather. He passed awaya little while ago. I know you didn’tknow him. To be honest, I didn’t knowhim very well either. But I wanted toread this book and talk with you about it. Is that all right?”

“Sure, Papa. Let’sread.”

Gold settles against the sofa, and opens the book. “Every day someone is born. And every day someone dies.”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #fanfiction #once upon a time #applejackcat

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demisexualemmaswan · 7 years

Text

The Hanging Tree [1/21]

Summary: "Are you? Are you coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three. Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree."

Emma Swan's life would be a hell of a lot easier if the Hunger Games didn't take place every single year. [An OUAT Hunger Games AU]

Rating: T

Archive Warnings: None for this chapter, but expect depictions of violence and major character death in the future.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Before you start, you should know that a lot of the characters you know and love from OUAT either have their roles changed in this fic or won't appear really until later chapters/installments! For example, Regina is a mentor to District 1 already and won't really be featured in this fic, but she plays a much larger role in the next one!

Special thanks to @literatiruinedme and @acesansa for reading and flailing!

“Emma?” Henry’s quiet voice poked through the gloom. “Emma? Are you awake?”

“No,” Emma Swan groaned, rolling over. She buried her face underneath the pillow, trying to ignore her brother. “Henry, go back to sleep. It’s not even dawn yet. We don’t have to get up for a few hours.”

“You mean for the Reaping,” Henry mumbled. That got Emma’s attention. She sat up and opened her arms to her younger brother. He gladly climbed in and nestled against her. “I’m scared.”

“I know, kid,” Emma said quietly, hugging him close. “I know you’re scared. But you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? You’re not going to go to the Games.”

By Games, she meant the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games were an annual event that pitted 24 children--two children from each of the twelve Districts that were spread across their country of Misthaven--through the ages of 11 through 17 in what could only be described as a fight to the death. A mandatory broadcast across the country that only got more twisted and brutal with each passing year. The competitors were brought to the Capitol—the center of the country—to compete in an arena designed by people specifically to kill tributes in the most ‘entertaining’ way possible.

This was the 74th year.

The Reaping was the selection process to determine who would be going to the Hunger Games. One boy and one girl were selected from a pool of names of everyone eligible in the District. This was Emma’s last year to be entered in the Reaping. This was Henry’s first.

She dropped a kiss into his hair. “You’ve got your name entered in once. My name is there…I don’t know, about seventy times? My name’s never been drawn before.” She tried to smile, but Henry only pressed himself in closer. “It’s okay.”

She tried to not think about how her name was in the drawing pool 77 times. There were the six entries she had from 11 to 17, with a new one being added each year. But in order to keep her and Henry living at least somewhat comfortably—a meal every night, clothing—Emma had signed up to a program that her name was added to the pool an additional ten times in exchange for supplies to keep her and her brother alive.

This was the last year she was eligible for the program, as she could start officially working for pay in the District next year. She was determined to have her brother’s name be entered in the drawing as little as possible. If there was anything in this world that Emma wanted to protect, it was Henry.

“I don’t want you to go either,” Henry mumbled childishly. Emma’s heart broke a little bit. She knew that it was hard for him. He was only eleven, and they were all each other had after their parents died in a forest fire. She sat there and stroked his hair gently, hoping to lull him back to sleep. “If you go to the Games, what will happen to me?” he asked worriedly.

“Well,” Emma explained, feeling much older than she was in that moment. “You’ll go to Neal’s. You know my friend Neal? He’ll take good care of you. You like him, right?” She looked down at Henry and smiled while her younger brother nodded. “So then you’ll stay with Neal…it’ll be okay.” Her voice choked up and she held Henry tighter. “I love you, kid,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Emma,” Henry piped up softly, burying his face in her shoulder. “Promise neither of us will go to the Games. Promise.” His knuckles turned white as he held onto her, and she couldn’t help but think how lucky she was to have him. When she felt lost, all she had to do was remind herself that Henry needed her, and she felt strong again. Steeling herself yet again, she dropped a kiss into her brother’s hair.

“I can’t promise that,” Emma said quietly. “You know I can’t.” She stroked the back of his head. “But I can promise that you’re going to be okay. I won’t let you go to the Games. You’re going to be safe. You’re going to be okay.”

“What about you?” Henry pressed. Emma was quiet. In the dark, she was able to press her lips into a thin line without Henry seeing. “Emma?”

Emma pressed her forehead to her brother’s, giving him a small, but real smile. “You’re my number one priority, Henry. Everything else is secondary. Including me. If you’re safe, then I’m happy.”

Henry gave a little, disgruntled sigh as he settled in closer to her. “Will you sing to me?” he asked quietly. “Like Mom used to do? I want to go back to sleep.” He wanted to say more, Emma could tell, but he chose not to.

“Okay,” Emma agreed, stroking his hair. She’d been doing this for the last few years on nights that were particularly hard for the both of them. “Just let me think of which one I can sing to you.” She was quiet for a moment before she started singing to him.

Down by old oak tree

That’s where you and I will be

The rivers will run

Day after day

Down by the old oak tree

That’s where we said to meet

I’ll be in white

Your eyes will be bright

Down by the old oak tree

Emma looked down after two verses and sure enough, Henry was fast asleep against her side. Emma smiled and dropped another kiss into her brother’s hair. She closed her eyes and soon fell fast asleep.

Smoke was heavy in the air and the noise of fire crackled through the night. She stumbled out of the forest confusedly, not sure where to turn or who to look for.

"Emma!” her mother called and Emma pressed on forward, recognizing her mother’s voice anywhere.

“Mom!” Emma coughed. A pair of arms wrapped around her tightly, and Emma nestled into them. “I was with Dad and the fire started and I tried to get him and the other workers out and I—”

“I’m going in—” Emma’s mother whispered, stroking her daughter’s hair back. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise. I’ll be back with your Dad soon. Stay put. Watch Henry, okay?”

“Ingrid, it’s bad in there,” their neighbor, Archie, called. “We’ve called the Mistguard. They’ll come take care of it.”

Emma held onto her mother tighter and hid her face in her mother’s shoulder, despite being fifteen years old. She felt five in that moment—singed closed and utterly terrified—as she curled into her mother’s hold. If the Mistguard, the disciplinary force of Misthaven, would have to take care of it, she knew it was bad.

Ingrid responded in turn by putting a hand on the back of her daughter’s head and kept her close, a fierce protective embrace that Emma cherished. “It’s okay, Emma. Everything is okay.”

" Please don’t go, Mom,” she begged. “I’m scared.”

“It’ll be okay,” Ingrid promised. “I love you, Emma. I love you very much.” She dropped a kiss into Emma’s hair. “We’ll be home for cocoa in ten minutes tops.” She let go of Emma and ran off into the forest. A few moments later, several trees collapsed, blocking off the path that Ingrid had gone down.

“Mom!” Emma screamed. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?” She began to run toward the fire to get them out, to save them, but something was holding her back. “Let me go! Mom!”

A knock at the door pulled Emma out of her dream. She bolted awake with a gasp, sweat dripping down her back. Henry was still curled up beside her, fast asleep. She took in a few moments to calm herself down, before the knock sounded again, much more insistently this time.

“I’m coming,” she called, pulling on a sweater to go answer the door. She tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she opened the door. “Hey, Neal.”

“Just want to make sure that you and Henry were going to make it to the reaping,” Neal told her, taking in her appearance. “You okay?” Emma shrugged half-heartedly and didn’t meet his gaze. He smiled gently, but didn’t say anything else. “You know you have to dress up, right, Emma?” he teased playfully, hoping to divert her attention.

“Yeah,” Emma said, a small smile returning to her face. “I was going to shower after I got something to eat. You want to come with me to check the traps?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Neal asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Or would you rather I stay here with Henry and keep him company while you have your brooding alone time?” He waggled his eyebrows playfully and Emma shoved him. Neal stepped closer with a laugh, nearly tripping over something. “The hell?” he asked, picking up something that was wrapped in paper.

Emma picked up the package and held it in her hand, eyebrows furrowed, before she opened it. Inside the wrapping was a fish, properly cleaned and gutted. Attached to its tail was a note “For the bread & hunting tips yesterday. Let me know if you need to learn how to fish!-KJ OCP”. She couldn’t help but smile a little to herself. She ran her fingers gently over his handwriting before taking it off the tail and putting it in her pocket.

“KJ, huh?” Neal teased. “As in Killian Jones? I thought he was grouchy and hated everyone.”

“Killian?” Emma asked incredulously. “No. Everyone avoids him.”

Killian had moved to District 7 at age fifteen, completely and utterly alone. No one knew where he came from, or how he got there, but he had papers from the Capitol granting him permission to be there. A move from a district was rare enough, let alone a Capitol sanctioned one.

People wanted to ask questions, but the paper with the Capitol seal kept them quiet. People barely made eye contact with him, except for when they wanted to trade things for his fish. No one really seemed to know where he caught them.

But then again, no one really asked.

“So are you in love with him or something?” Neal asked, his tone still light and playful, but there was something behind it that was a little more probing. She couldn’t help but look up at him. He knew her better than anyone, and she was surprised that he didn’t already know the answer to that question.

“The only love in my life right now is Henry,” she replied, equally as light and shoved at Neal playfully again before wrapping the fish up again. “That’s all I have room for. That’s probably all I’ll ever have room for.”

He laughed, straightening his shirt out. The brief tension of the moment dissipated. “What’s OCP, anyway?” “Orphan Club President,” Emma responded quickly but dryly, putting some oil in a pan so she could fry the fish up for her and Henry. “The Enchanted Forest’s one organization dedicated to helping those who have lost their entire families and are raising themselves.”

There weren’t many orphans in District 7, affectionately known as the “Enchanted Forest” to its residents. There were plenty of single parent families, particularly after the forest fire that had killed Emma and Henry’s parents. In fact, it was really just Emma, Henry and Killian who all were trying their hardest to get by.

Of course, their neighbors tried their hardest to help them out when they could, but there were a lot of accidents with transportation and poor weather that had cut them short on supplies coming in from other districts in the recent months. Or so Emma heard when she went through town on her way to the forest. But according to the mayor and everyone she knew the Enchanted Forest was thriving just fine. The trees were green, the lumber bountiful, and everyone content.

Besides, Emma hated asking others for help, unless she felt like she could do something in return. And sometimes, it was hard to help those who had been close with her mother. The comparison was often brought up between the two of them, something Emma had grown to hate. It wasn’t that she hated looking like her mother. Missing her simply hurt too much.

Which was why Killian could be such a good friend to her: he didn’t have stories about anyone in the District. He was completely unattached to everyone, except to her and Henry.

When Killian had found out that they were all alone, all three of them, he wryly suggested that they made a club. Henry eagerly agreed to this, immediately designating Killian the president, since it was his idea. Emma just smiled and went along with it, as she did with most things Henry dreamed up. It was enough to see him smile, in her eyes.

Asking to be a part of something more resonated with Killian, he would later tell her. Henry absolutely adored his new friend and tagged along in Killian’s shadow whenever he could. She, personally, valued the companionship she had with Killian Jones very highly. She didn’t want to call it friendship, not yet, but she knew that they understood each other.

“Oh,” Neal said quietly. “I just…never mind.”

Emma turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Neal,” she said gently, smiling fondly down at him. “Of course Henry and I know how much you’ve done for us. And how much we mean to you. Believe me, I do. This is not the time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Neal muttered, blushing a little bit.

“You are,” Emma replied affectionately. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. “It’s not like that, okay?” She rolled her eyes at him when he still didn’t smile, but grinned a little when he returned her hug. “You’re not an orphan. Killian is. There’s something he just gets about me that you don’t. It’s nothing against you. It’s just how it is. Now stop pouting before Henry wakes up. He’s already stressed out as it is.”

“Looks like he’s not the only one,” Neal said, cracking a little smile.

“May the odds be ever in your favor that I don’t punch you in the face,” Emma said, trying to be as serious as possible, before starting to laugh.

Every year, at the same time of year the Capitol came to their District with the same irritating and bone chilling message. The same phrase was blasted across the television screens across the country during the entirety of the games.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

The phrase had become an inside joke among the residents of the Enchanted Forest, particularly when something could happen but most likely wouldn’t.

Henry came into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. “Hey, Neal,” he said, waving to the older boy. He sat down at the table and peered over at what Emma was making. “Is that from Killian? He told me he was going to teach me how to catch one today after the Reaping. Can I go, Emma? Please?”

“As long as it’s still okay with him after the Reaping,” Emma replied, serving some fish on a plate for Henry. “Make sure you brush your hair and teeth after you eat. We have to look nice.”

“It’s just the Capitol,” Neal muttered, crossing his arms. Emma shot him a look, her eyebrows raised. Neal sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Sorry, kid. Your sister’s right. You want to look good for the cameras.”

“Hey, could you go out and see if any of the lilies in the backyard have bloomed yet?” Emma asked. “I want to give them to Neal to bring to his mother for the bread baking lesson she gave me last week.” She smiled softly and playfully ruffled Henry’s hair as he ran out. Once he was out of sight, she wheeled around, glaring at Neal. “Do you mind? Or are you just trying to get him killed?”

“I told him to listen to you,” Neal said with a shrug. “Henry’s a good kid; he’s not going to act up.”

Emma’s neighbors talked about the trees and the land. No one ever talked about the abundance presence of the Mistguard in their district.

“He looks up to you,” Emma said, her voice strained in an effort to keep herself calm. “Even putting the idea in his head is dangerous. Just…don’t, okay? What if he mentions it in passing to someone? Or he talks like that and gets overheard by a Mistguard? He’s all I have and you’re putting him in huge danger by saying stuff like that. Do you know what they could do to him?”

“Come on, no one’s been punished by a Mistguard in years,” Neal scoffed. “The Mistguard is here because they think someone in this district is going to start the Second Rebellion. They’re too chicken to actually hurt anyone.”

“And what if they do hurt Henry?” Emma fired back.

Neal opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to say it out loud in front of him.” He got up and hugged Emma tightly. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or him, right?” he asked softly. It was only then that Emma allowed herself to sink into the embrace, nodding. She closed her eyes as Neal kept her close. “I’ve got your back, Emma.”

“I know,” she muttered before stepping back. “And I have yours.” Emma smiled at him, before plating the fish and putting it on the table.

Henry came bounding back into the room with a few lilies in his hand. Neal gladly took them from him. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll bring them to my mom right away,” he told Henry, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Enjoy your breakfast!”

Henry waited patiently until Neal left. “So, like, are you two gonna start dating or something?” he asked mischievously.

“Not you too,” Emma chuckled, shoving him playfully but much more gently than she had with Neal. “Now, c’mon, eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

#blaire's writing #cs au fic #cs hunger games au #cs au ff #the hanging tree

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hencethebravery · 7 years

Note

Muscles Better, Nerves More for the commentary? it's phenomenal and poetic

First of all, thank you, glad to hear you enjoyed it. Let’s do this thing. btw, I will be providing commentary on “Muscles Better, Nerves More,” which can be found without my notes here.

I’m doing author commentary!

i like my body when it is with yourbody. It is so quite new a thing.Muscles better and nerves more.i like your body. i like what it does,i like its hows. i like to feel the spineof your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth ness and which i willagain and again and againkiss, i like kissing this and that of you,i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzzof your electric fur, and what-is-it comesover parting flesh … and eyes big love-crumbs,and possibly i like the thrill,of under me you so quite new.

– e.e. cummings

A/N: This is one of my most favorite poems of all time. I try not to pick opening poetry at random, generally, there’s some kind of reason the story is preempted with the poetry or song or what have you. I chose this poem because I wanted to write a story about physicality, and this is a poem that emphasizes touch and the body.

It’s early spring, and the flowers in Storybrooke have only just started to bloom, much to Emma’s quiet delight, when her precocious child makes it a point to upend her entire day.

“You can admit it you know,” Henry smirks, his look simultaneously knowing and infuriating all at once (not unlike a certain pirate, whose inability to concede to Emma’s pride seems to have been passed on to her son).

She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be “admitting” to, but the look on Henry’s face would suggest that she knows damn well to what he’s referring and she may as well confess now or he plans to spill the beans to all the wrong people (namely Killian and her parents, who would, undoubtedly, blow the whole thing entirely out of proportion).

“I’m not sure what you’re fishing for here,” she evades, sifting through one of the messier drawers at the station, no rhyme or reason to any of it, really.

A handful of vibrant, purple flowers appear suddenly in her vision, and she has to blink once or twice so that they re-appear in focus.

“I found these on the counter in the bathroom,” he explains, smirk still firmly in place, “And even more soaking in water next to the dishwasher.”

She sighs, “What do you want, Henry?”

The smile starts to waver slightly, and for a moment she feels a rush of guilt, until the smirk quickly returns as if it had never left, “I just find it interesting, that’s all.”

“It’s all the leather, isn’t?”

A/N: Ya know what’s really important to me? Emma Swan. You know what’s even more important? Emma Swan being soft and vulnerable and that being okay. One of my biggest problems with the OUAT fandom that I’ve seen (and not with everyone mind, just, it’s a common opinion I’ve seen floated around), is that Emma is not a strong character if she displays any kind of traditionally feminine softness. I think that Emma had to grow up sharper than usual, and I think she’s in a place where she’s finally safe, and she’s with people who she doesn’t think will abandon her, and I think if given half the chance she would go after the softer things. While wearing her leather jacket because you can do both.

It’s not surprising, really. She’s spent a good deal of her time in Storybrooke cultivating a reputation for herself, made damn sure that she would be the least princess-like Savior as it was possible to be. If the leather and the gun and the aggressive behavior didn’t clinch it, the chainsaw she took to Regina’s dramatic and heavy handed apple tree certainly took care of that.

Emma Swan had a secret, however, and although it was one of the more innocuous in her rather sordid, secretive past, it still rattled her to think that someone might find out. Obviously, Henry or Killian finding out was the best-case scenario, but still, she was protective of her softer parts.

She tries to ignore his flinch out of the corner of her eye when she slams the drawer shut, closing her eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath before acquiescing to Henry’s, admittedly innocent, observation.

He surprises her by placing a gentle hand on her arm before she can speak, “It doesn’t make you any less of a hero, mom,” he urges quietly. Sometimes so like the man she loves she can hardly believe how lucky she is to have both of them in her life. “You’re the strongest, bravest person I know.”

He smiles and leaves the flowers behind on her desk before she can respond, and the guilt she felt earlier returns with a vengeance as she hears his steps get further and further away.

“Dammit,” she whispers fiercely, glaring half-heartedly at the slightly crushed, melancholy Irises on her desk. She wishes she could let go of it, this silly instinct to deny her fragility, her love of beautiful things, as if that could somehow make her weaker. Logically, she knows that it’s nothing more than a ridiculous, antiquated notion of gender and power that lingers in the frayed, damaged parts of her psyche, but that doesn’t make it any less disruptive.

A/N: I really love Henry Mills. I love thinking of Henry Mills as being a really enlightened kind of guy and wanting good things for other people he loves. And I like the idea of Henry Mills being the observant author who knows when his mother is worried or hurting. That’s the guy I tried to include here. I also really like the idea of Killian’s gentleness imprinting itself on the boy he’s basically helped raise.

A warm, refreshing gust of air blows through an open window and she sighs, relinquishing her firm, almost painful grasp on the back of her chair. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is at its warmest as it stretches itself across the open floor, heating her skin through the fabric of her jacket. The flowers are still soft in her hand when she collects them, the petals velvety and soothing against her skin despite their wrinkled edges. When she raises them to her nose, she can still catch an enticing hint of their scent, the enchanting blend of the spring’s warmth with their earthy freshness sends an eager thrill down her spine.

A/N: Like I said earlier, the physical was really important to me when writing this, so I tried to include a lot of atmospheric imagery that would really transport the reader (and Emma). I want people to be able to recall the feeling of petals on their skin, or how sun in the late afternoon feels. Hopefully I succeeded!

A vivid, almost vision-like image appears unbidden in her mind, as if the wind, the sun, and the small, innocuous flowers in her hand had somehow summoned him. The sun feels stronger, the air saltier, and it’s a familiar, soothing comfort to her frazzled nerves.

“Swan?”

The dulcet tones of his voice carry on the breeze, wrapping themselves in the heavy canvas of the ship’s sails, carried away by the crying of the gulls.

A/N: I’m proud of this line y’all. I like wrapping Killian’s voice in soft petals and wind-whipped canvas and salty air. What a guy he is.

“Emma, darling?”

He sounds far closer than he should, his warmth far more heady than it could possibly be in a vision or fantasy, or whatever the hell she’s currently experiencing. Confused, she wrinkles her brow and nose, wondering if this is yet another facet of her power she has yet to explore.

“Emma.”

Firmer this time, and her eyes snap open in surprise at the feeling of his hands wrapped gently around her upper arms. “Killian—”

When she manages to tear her gaze away from the surprised, concerned blue of his eyes, she’s forced to squint against the shocking glare of the sun reflecting off the surface of the water, suddenly feels the gentle rocking of the Jolly Roger under her feet, the familiar smell of damp wood tickling her nose.

“Uh,” she gasps, “Hey?”

She smiles in a way she hopes is charming enough to avoid a flustered, overprotective smothering, and the delicate, yet undiscerning lift of his brow would seem to suggest she’s failed.

“This is a surprise, I must say, Swan. Not everyday a beautiful woman suddenly appears in my arms.”

She huffs in disbelief and silently considers the young, eager faces of the various men and women she’s observed following his slight frame with a heated, shamelessly obvious gaze. Not that she can blame them, obviously, but she is right there.

A/N: Excuse me, but why have we yet to see at least a small percentage of the Storybrooke townsfolk blatantly staring at Killian Jones? We all know it’s happening. We know.

She wants to say something flirtatious and charming, something along the lines of, “I’m in your arms everyday,” or “Humility is a good look on you, Captain.” But she’s finding it hard to ignore the note of concern in his voice, hidden behind the humor he tries so desperately to convey for her emotionally stunted sake.

“Kind of a weird day,” she admits sullenly, unable to acknowledge the selfless interest, awe, and love that she can almost always find in his unbearably kind eyes.

“Never had one of those before, have we?”

When she looks up she finds his smile, just as bright and disarming as she’s come to expect, his eyes no longer merely worried. She exhales and drops her forehead to his chest in exhaustion, feeling his soft chuckle, the heavy weight of her conversation with Henry lifting slightly from her shoulders.

Her voice is muffled when she speaks against his chest, “Henry found my flowers.”

A/N: In case people haven’t noticed, I also really enjoy writing Emma Swan with her teenage girl tendencies. She’s so stubborn and embarrassed and I kind of really love that about her. I also know the feeling of admitting to the person you trust most in the world that you enjoy something you feel a little bit dumb about. I ended up borrowing from real-life a bit when I wrote this fic.

“Come again, love?”

There’s a handsome, incredulous look on his face when she finally leans away, and she forces a stern look onto her face along with a pointed, enthusiastic finger, “You can’t laugh.”

“Cross my heart, Swan.”

From their place in the pocket of her jacket, the purple Irises have gotten a bit more ruffled than they were earlier, but the color is still vibrant, the scent still quietly biding its time within its frail petals.

A/N: Yes, a scent can “bide its time,” don’t test me.

“I’ve seen these,” he exclaims quietly, “they’ve been growing in the yard, by the shed.”

She smiles at his absurdly gentle touch of the flowers in her hand, and replies, “Yup, sprang up overnight with the warm weather.”

“You want to tell me what this is about?”

“I love flowers,” she admits desperately, crushing the petals beyond repair within the confines of her fist, “after the long, depressing winters… just, the sight of them.” She sighs and tries to ignore the twinkle in his eye, “I like to pick them, leave them around the house, just look at them… I guess.”

“Just when I thought the charms of Emma Swan could ever cease.”

“Shut up.”

She feels the last of the sun’s warmth on her face before his lips finally meet hers. A light, yet insistent pressure she can feel in the sudden tensing of her neck in playful defiance of his touch. The breeze is a few degrees cooler with the loss of the sun, and her skin prickles along with the heat of his hand against her cheek. He pulls away before she can truly appreciate the finer points of his kiss, and she flushes at the familiar feeling of his nose nudging against her own.

“Shall we, my love?”

His fingers are wonderfully rough when she tangles their hands together against her rapidly warming face, and when she anxiously nibbles at her own lips, she can taste a hint of rum and oranges that he left behind.

“We shall.”

A/N: And again with the sensory language! Can y’all taste the oranges? The rum? Maybe feel the sun on your skin? THAT’S WHAT I WANT.

Killian Jones is a remarkable creature that she hopes to never fully know. A maddening blend of confident righteousness and eager violence, tossed with a delightful smattering of gentleness and chivalric intention. Emma Swan wants to learn something new about Killian Jones everyday of her life, from the most lovable to the most infuriating, she wants to burrow inside that wonderful mess and remain there for the rest of her days. The good and the bad, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: To this day, this is one of my most favorite bits about Killian as a character that I’ve written.

Similarly, she hopes against hope that their frequent, decidedly enthusiastic, time spent locked away in their cavernous bedroom remains a constant surprise. Despite the gentleness he had shown moments earlier, his touch is suddenly rougher, more eager and impatient than she would have expected.

“You got somewhere to be?” she asks breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper with the way his lips have begun their swift, perilous descent down the length of her neck.

When he speaks against her skin his tongue makes brief, teasing points of contact with her flesh and she feels a pleasurable tingling between her legs as he pushes her jacket from her shoulders.

“I’d be a bloody fool to imagine myself anywhere else.”

It’s hard to form coherent thoughts after that, what with the somehow rougher tugging of her top over her head, the feeling of his hand and hook securing themselves beneath her denim-clad thighs. She feels her stomach heave excitedly as he lifts her into the air, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms fastened tightly across his shoulders.

The night is largely silent outside their window except for the sporadic chirping of various insects awakening from their sleep, a cacophonous melody of sound blending seamlessly with her breathless sighs and soft moans escaping in the open space between their mouths.

“Cold,” she manages to whisper against his lips, the feel of the biting night air along the bare flesh of her back causing a vaguely unpleasant shiver to crawl across her skin. All day long she’d been luxuriating in the warmth of spring, so to feel a chill in the air, despite the warmth of Killian’s touch, has her feeling more sensitive to the cold than usual.

A/N: I would like everyone to know that I don’t write a lot of smut, this was one of my first times writing it, and I’m still getting a little flush reading it again. I’m so glad people enjoyed it, but I’ll be honest, it was a horrifying experience. And not to get too TMI with this, but I borrowed from real-life again, a little bit, only because I get cold ALWAYS and ruin the mood. But the mood doesn’t have to be ruined. Anyway.

He grunts in acknowledgement, and she suddenly finds herself delightfully pressed into the soft, wave-like warmth of their many blankets, the exposed, heated skin of his chest pressed against her own, and she wishes quietly, desperately, for the uncomfortable tightness of her bra to disappear. Her back arches in a silent entreaty, the softness of her breasts pressing meaningfully against his pleasant weight.

A/N: Bras suck.

“Problem, Swan?” He chuckles and she resists the very real urge to give him a small pinch, her legs tightly securing themselves along his stomach and legs in a vain attempt at scolding, “I thought I said no laughing!”

She can barely keep the breathless, frightfully high-pitched giggles out of her own voice, and the reprimand falls short of barely teasing, the soft, lyrical notes of her pleasure betraying any attempt at severity.

“Ugh,” she gasps, “please get rid of it.”

One-handed wonder that he is, the offending garment is unhooked and pulled away with an alarming quickness that would have had her thinking “magic,” if not for the distracting sensation of his mouth against her breasts, his lips steadily working their way down her torso to the top of her jeans.

An unacceptable amount of time passes before she feels his breath against the top of her pubic bone, her hands flexing against the top of his back impatiently. A hush seems to fall over the room, and before she can think to wonder where the sounds of the evening have gone, a cool breeze wafts over the naked skin of her legs as he slowly rolls the fabric down her thighs and over her knees.

“Still cold?” he asks the taut skin of her belly, the soft pressure of his lips against her skin creating an involuntary movement in the tense muscles of her stomach, a nervous, anticipatory reaction that she can find no way to hide.

Her underwear is almost uncomfortably damp at this point, but he makes no move to discard them, his nose and mouth pressing insistently between her legs, and she has to take a moment to breathe and forgo the dreaded feeling of embarrassment that they had worked long and hard to dissuade her of. She tries to say his name but the only noise that leaves her mouth is a gasp, and she huffs in frustration, her eyes falling shut at the gentle, probing feeling of his tongue against her heat.

A/N: I’ve seen other, far more talented writers do this too, but I think it’s really important to at least hint at the possibility that we’re not all comfortable with sex all the time. Oral sex in particular can be particularly nerve-wracking for both parties and I wanted to emphasize that here. I also think Killian would be particularly understanding about this stuff.

Just as she’s prepared herself for the welcome relief of her remaining piece of clothing sliding away, the feeling of his body re-acquainting itself with the length of her front returns, and the fine hairs along her arms seem to rise excitedly with the unexpected feeling of his warmth and weight.

A/N: I’m not super crazy about my language here, that’s a long-ass sentence. I’d probably break it up a bit now, possibly get 2 or 3 sentences out of it instead of the great big long one. Ugh.

“What’re you doing up here?” she asks curiously, a note of wonder to her voice that she barely recognizes.

When he smiles, there’s a lovely crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and she feels her heart flutter rapidly in her chest in the reverent tone of his reply.

“I missed you.”

Her responding kiss is harsh and insistent, hands fiercely tugging at the dark, soft strands of his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he moans loudly before bringing his hand to her thigh and lifting it eagerly over his hip as he ruts uselessly against her.

A/N: I just thought there was something almost sickeningly romantic about the idea of oral sex creating just a little bit too much distance. Obviously, it’s one of the more intimate things you can do, but at the same time he is all the way down there, idk.

“Pants,” she whines against his chin, the scruff of his jaw scraping delightfully against her lips, and she knows they’ll be slightly red and chapped in the morning, but it’s a blissful, fading irritation that she can hardly think to acknowledge.

The final moments before he’s finally where she needs him to be are swift and incomprehensible, as if each second bleeds meaninglessly into the next, her heart racing almost unpleasantly in her chest as she makes to frantically pull the fabric of her underwear aside, and it’s only when he’s exquisitely buried inside her, wet and inviting, does the sensation of time return. She can hear the chirping of the insects in his stillness, the heavy, sultry weight of him hovering over her, the now welcome rolling of the cool night air over their heated, flushed skin.

His hand leaves her hip to return to its place against her cheek and jaw, a mimicry of their kiss on the Jolly only an hour or so earlier, and she feels a familiar hardness at the back of her throat, a pressure behind her eyes that she’s become far too comfortable with in recent years. “Killian,” she finally manages to whisper before he’s practically devouring her, his hips barely moving against her.

A/N: How would these two idiots not cry during sex at least 50% of the time? Literally everything about their relationship is intense. She’s also in love with a man who’s so goddamn Extra™ that he’d probably find it nigh-impossible to contain all of his Emma Swan feelings. Especially when she admits to loving purple flowers? Come now.

“Oh,” he sighs, his brow enticingly furrowed with a lingering grasp on his self-control, his teeth gently tugging on her already swollen, kiss-stained lips.

The encouraging tap of her knee against his side seems to snap him out of whatever Emma-induced reverie he seems to have found himself, and she very nearly yells with the unexpected pleasure of his body snapping hard and fast against and within her, the sound of the headboard cracking against the wall creating a loud, purposeful echo in the otherwise quiet space.

He mouths a wonderfully accented “Fuck,” against her neck and the beginnings of a long, drawn-out tightness in her belly takes her by surprise; the contradictory, erotic events of the evening coming to fruition with the filthy words tumbling out of his mouth and across her pink, feverish skin. She begins to notice beads of sweat rolling between her breasts and down her sternum, but she only drags the blunted tips of her fingernails harder across his back, circles her hips with more strength than she thought she possessed.

A/N: Again with the soft/hard juxtaposition! As you’ll soon find out, I’m pretty sure I was prompted to write this because there’d been a discussion at some point about how Killian would 100% wear a crown made of flowers in one moment and slam you into a headboard in the next.

When she comes it is quiet, nary a sound crosses her lips besides a soft, gracious “Thank you,” against an exhausted, proud smile that has worked its way across his sweaty, flushed face, before he finishes with a few final, well-placed thrusts that have her hand wrapped tightly around one of the bars behind her head.

As soon as he drops to the side there’s a dryness in her mouth that begs for water, and she places a quick, wet kiss to his cheek before swinging her legs over the bed and pulling his shirt on, making a quick beeline for the bathroom before running downstairs for a glass of water. A full moon shines through the window above the sink, and a welcome, all-encompassing tiredness seems to weave its way through her body, her eyelids drooping, mouth open in a silent yawn.

A flash of color catches her eye, and she remembers the purple Irises that Henry had mentioned that morning, soaking in water, their heads tilted towards her in a silent question. She scoops them up before returning to bed, a small, delighted smile obscuring her otherwise sleepy expression.

If it were in his power to do so, Killian Jones would choose to awaken to the sound of Emma Swan’s laughter everyday for the rest of his life. It’s so soft he can barely hear the cadences of its movement, but it’s there, a bright, loving thing that he feels just as surely as he can feel the early morning sun against his face.

A/N: Me too, Killian. Me too.

He had fallen asleep before Emma had returned to bed the previous evening, waking only briefly to the light, tickling sensation of her fingers running up and down the length of his arm. A familiar, repetitive motion that he’s begun to suspect comforts her more so than it does him, but he had fallen back into a deep sleep regardless, his mind and heart full with thoughts of Emma, her long, blonde hair covered in the pale pink petals of Middlemist roses.

A/N: I give my fiancé chills all the time because I find it comforting and he fucking hates it. Oh, well. DEAL WITH IT.

“Morning,” she hums somewhere close to his ear, and he smiles before opening his eyes to the no doubt wondrous sight that awaits him.

“I know you’re awake,” she continues, “it’s creepy that you won’t just admit it.”

“Just savoring the moment, love,” he explains, and the sight is indeed, just as, if not slightly more beautiful than he expected. “Would you look at that.”

“Cut it out, I am not at my most elegant this morning.”

Practically speaking he supposes she’s right; a large, cotton flannel hangs off one shoulder (and what he thinks might be a coffee stain covers the breast pocket), her hair is a knotty mess on top of her head, with rather sizable, long strands that she had clearly missed in her hurried attempt to look marginally presentable. She still looks vaguely tired, but content, and sometimes it’s enough to be thankful for.

It’s then that he notices the busy motion of her hands, the purple of the flowers she had shown him the evening before tangled around one another in an indiscernible pattern.

A/N: Can you even believe that it took me this long to get to the flower crown? That was the whole freaking point. I had to add all that superfluous backstory about how much Emma loves flowers to even get here. Go fuck yourself, Alana.

“What’s that you’ve got there, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” she answers mischievously, and he notes a playfulness that he would happily take in exchange for the tiredness that lingers around her eyes. Besides, he thinks with only a slight hint of astonishment, there was always time for a nap.

He’s propped up against the headboard, a mug of hot tea in hand when he feels her fussing with his large, messy nest of hair he’s yet to tame. The flannel she wears is only partially buttoned, so the view is distracting enough that he briefly forgets about whatever’s going on up there, but then he notices a small, violet-colored petal fall in front of his eyes and he forces himself to look up.

“What’s this, now?”

“There,” she says wistfully, her hands coming to gently frame his face, desperately in need of a shave or a trim at the very least, “perfect.” She plays with a few strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead, and the softness in her expression makes his chest tight.

He sets the tea aside and tries to sit straighter despite Emma’s weight in his lap, his attempts to construct a princely countenance encouraging yet another wonderful stroke of laughter from her lips, “What do you think, Swan? Will the King and Queen approve?”

It’s somewhat surreal to think that the man currently beneath her; this shirtless, sleepy, miracle of a human being (flower crowns, untrimmed beard and all) could be the same man that had fucked her quite ardently into their headboard the night before. The sun has begun to make its way out from behind the early morning fog, but she can smell rain in the air, observe the heavy clouds in the distance, and quietly makes the decision to stay in bed until at least the afternoon.

There’s clearly an element of humor in the question, but there’s a deeper chord, something about meeting her parent’s approval and being “nothing but a pirate,” and she can’t quite kiss him deep enough or gentle enough after she responds, her voice quiet and firm in the early morning silence that falls around them like a cocoon, “Who gives a damn?”

A/N: Oh, Killian, always with the self-doubt. Will he ever learn? Probably not, no. But Emma Swan doesn’t care and she’ll love him forever and now I have gone full-sap. btw, I’ve always had a sequel in mind for this fic. Hopefully I’ll get to it soon.

#@hencethewriter #attn blogging #shady-swan-jones

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hookaroo · 5 years

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Vocivore, Ltd. (13 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, and @killianjonesownsmyheart1 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******

Present (Wednesday, continued)...

His partner, fallen. Stabbed. Dead?

Chilled shock jolted through Detective Jones, stealing his air, prickling his limbs. He battled for calm as he started forward, eyes frantically searching the prince’s body for any sign of life. Slave Killian seemed frozen as well: he held his sword inches above David’s flesh, watching blood drip from its point, his eyes vacant.

And then David stirred. Just a slight twitch, the faintest of groans. Jones shuddered in relief. But the movement woke Killian, too, who inched his blade higher. It appeared as if… was he drawing back for the finishing blow?

The detective raced the final few meters, arriving just in time. Immediately after he thrust his own sword forward, the blade collided with the descending steel of Killian’s. Off-balance from the start, Jones was nearly brought to his knees by the resounding impact. But with a valiant effort, he remained upright, hanging grimly onto the handle with both hands.

“What are you doing, mate?” he gritted, arms trembling from the strain. Killian did not look at him; he gave no indication of having heard. Jones was certain he would give no response. But then Killian spoke for the first time in a low, emotionless voice.

“I’ve orders to kill him.”

Jones replied with a scornful scoff. “You picked a hell of a time to start following corrupt authority again.” He tried to steer the blade away from the fallen prince, the cut on his arm stinging fiercely as the muscle underneath bulged. Surprisingly strong for his emaciated appearance, Killian would not allow the adjustment.

“I must obey my Master.”

Though it was obvious, having the situation confirmed still sent a shudder down Jones’ spine. Killian truly had fallen victim to the killer. The torture, the brainwashing… and the fatal neurological condition that would follow. In fact, at this proximity, it would have been hard to miss the tremors, mild though they were.

Jones swallowed his emotions. Right now, what mattered was keeping David safe until help arrived. He had to delay things, draw them out as long as he could. With a big breath, he squared his shoulders.

“Your Master. Right then. Suppose you’ll be wanting to kill me too.”

As if suddenly realizing he could do it in any order, and that the finishing of David would be easier without Jones standing in the way, Killian swiveled to face his new opponent. His bloodshot eyes held no trace of fear, contrived swagger… or hope. That grim nothingness unnerved Jones more than any other expression would have. He took a step away from David, desperately straining to hear the distant wail of approaching sirens.

“I should warn you, I’ve probably picked up a thing or two which you haven’t seen before. Lest you’ve forgotten, I do have nearly three decades on you in terms of age and experience, despite my rather dashing and youthful appearance.”

Killian did not deign to reply; Jones could not tell whether he was even listening. Wordlessly, the slave set himself for battle, and Jones followed suit, ending in a perfect mirror of pose, ready and alert.

The Killians were matched in many aspects: size, skill, strategy. Even the unfamiliar blades they both carried were an equal hindrance. But where the detective was strong and agile, the slave was hampered by injury and malnourishment. Where Killian had a sworn intent to kill, and could attack with abandon, Jones had an aversion to the same and must use caution. Still, a long, drawn-out affair would favor the stronger man, and that’s just what Jones was counting on.

He allowed Killian to make the first move, which wasn’t long in coming. A quick and recognizable series of strikes, almost a warm-up drill. The familiar clash of steel brought back harrowing memories of a life lived recklessly, of far too much pointless bloodshed and outright villainy. Jones parried easily and followed up with a sequence he knew Killian would identify just as quickly. Prolong the fight, keep everyone safe... including the brainwashed slave before him.

Jones drew first blood--quite by accident--with an old move that now ended differently, thanks to a particular incident involving another failed cure for his poisoned heart. He had completely forgotten that the technique used to conclude in another manner. Killian went to block what he was expecting, and instead ended up with a deep gash down the back of his sword arm. Mentally berating himself, Jones withdrew to allow Killian time to regroup… and found himself sporting a slash of his own, right across the ribs, as Killian lashed out in fierce retaliation. This time, the step back was for his own benefit.

Now puffing and drenched with sweat, Jones found himself on the defensive. Apparently, the successful strike had given Killian a surge of vicious energy, and Jones was hard-pressed to keep up. With the increase in speed, though, also came a noticeably worsening tremor that rattled the slave’s limbs, causing his blade to scythe erratically and become that much harder to block. Jones was cut twice more before Killian began to slow: an inconsequential stripe across his upper arm, then a deeper line of blood marring his forearm that matched the dagger wound on the other side.

Keeping his focus through the burn of his injuries, Jones patiently awaited an opening. Killian’s stamina was fading. The force of his blows weakening, his tempo slowing. Blood dripped from his elbow and flicked in all directions with the clash of swords. Jones could see other wounds oozing, reopened by the exertion. He had turned a disturbing shade of gray that contrasted sharply with the crimson marks adorning his skin. No way would he last much longer.

In the distance--finally--came the faint and welcome wail of a siren. And then another. Their ominous melody provided a haunting soundtrack to the twin combatants as they panted and grunted their determined rhythm.

Killian stumbled. Jones went for his sword. Mechanical hand gripped twitching wrist, sword hilt hammered against weakened fingers. But with a growl that turned into a yelp, Killian swung his blunted arm at Jones’ face. The stake and ring sliced deeply into the detective’s cheek, narrowly missing the eye and releasing a torrent of blood down his face and neck. Half stunned, Jones staggered back, expecting steel through the gut at any second. But Killian had broken off as well and seemed to be hunched over his mutilated wrist.

Less than a minute. The double siren multiplied and grew louder by the second. Jones only had to hold him off for a little while longer, then fresh bodies with working weapons could contain him. Struggling past the raging pain from his face, Jones glanced over at David, who had grown frightfully still. The detective’s eyes--well, one eye, now--focused on the prince’s back… was he still breathing?

In the split second of inattention, Killian recovered enough to whirl, faster than Jones would have believed possible. The sword whipped around in an arc and crashed against Jones’, and his hurried tightening of his grip was not enough to keep hold. His blade went flying and he leapt back in desperation.

Without warning, an unexpected hand grasped his ankle. One of the stunned slaves, apparently not quite out of commission. Jones’ attempts to keep his balance were futile: shifting his center of mass did no good when the other leg was suddenly grabbed as well, yanked right out from underneath. He tried to roll as he fell, to soften his landing and protect his head. He managed the latter, but at the cost of twisting his knee and driving gravel into his elbow and torn forearm. Gasping for breath, Jones kicked out and contacted some part of the prone slave, who instantly released his ankles. But it wasn’t enough.

As Jones scrambled to right himself, he saw two bare feet just in front of him, and the shadow of a sword darkening the ground nearby. He rolled onto his back, casting about for any inspiration, any defense, and finding none. Defeated, he looked up and met the dead eyes staring down at him. Unchanging even as the sword reached its apex. Paused. Twitched only as a result of symptomatic spasms. And flashed down again.

*****

Jones wasn’t dead. That fact was almost as shocking as the stab wound itself. Sure, he hurt like hell, he couldn’t draw a full breath, and he may be hallucinating thunderstorms now, but it was a welcome contrast to whatever passed these days as the Underworld.

More wailing wind accompanied a frantic increase in the unnaturally rapid lightning flashes, there came another odd rattle of thunder and a gush of rain that fell nowhere near Jones’ bleeding form.

David. Dammit, David would be getting wet. Jones drew as deep a breath as he could manage, positioned both hands at his sides, and hoisted himself up with a groan. Through one bleary eye, he took in the scene of confusion, bits and pieces falling back into place as he waited. The fire. The slaves. Aid cars, firemen, the yellow Bug. David being tended: good.

Jones felt blood soaking the front of his shirt, and he placed a hand against the worst pain: the landing site of the strangely non-lethal sword point. Hearing low murmurs behind him, he winced and gingerly craned his neck until he saw the crouching form of Emma. She hovered over the still shape of her husband, wearing an anxious and sad expression. An EMT knelt nearby. As if sensing the detective’s gaze, she turned.

“Is he…” wheezed Jones.

“Unconscious,” Emma reported in an exhausted tone. “Had to tase him.” She took in the sight of his blood soaked hand, the reddened sword nearby, and asked, “You okay?”

“Significantly less dead than was my original assessment.” He stopped to catch his breath, adding, “Think I might lie back down, though.”

Another flash of worry crossed Emma’s face, but this time, she stifled it. “You do that. We’ve got things under control now.”

Jones couldn’t suppress his groan as he fell back onto his elbows, the movement and hard landing jolting though each of his wounds in scalding waves. But he bit out his foremost concern.

“Your father?”

Emma glanced David’s way. “Don’t know yet.” She sounded shaken.

“Don’t worry,” Jones grunted as he lowered himself to lie completely flat. “He’ll be irked to find he’s missed the battle’s conclusion... but he’ll get over it.”

He closed his eyes, not sure if he’d rather sleep or pass out at the moment. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind shaky exhaustion and a full awareness of pain. He heard Emma get up, apparently satisfied with her husband’s stability and security. She took a step in his direction, hesitated, then came close and knelt beside him.

“Let me see.”

He allowed her to nudge his hand away from his sternum, and a hot lance accompanied the shifting. “Don’t suppose belief will be enough this time.”

In answer, Emma replaced his hand, holding hers on top as she flagged a passing EMT. “I don’t think it’s too serious,” she told him. “Looks like the blade bounced off your hard-ass breastbone.”

“Said with all fondness, I presume?”

“Always.”

The medic arrived and began to ask questions, and Emma made as if to get up, but Jones caught her hand.

“Hey. It’s not your fault.” He glanced briefly at Killian, who was just being lifted onto a gurney to be loaded into an ambulance. “And it’s not his, either.”

She only smiled sadly, stood, and walked away.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #wish realm killian #david nolan #emma swan #killian vs. killian #sword fight #cuts #stabbed #paramedics #brainwashed #tased #Vocivore ltd

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years

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OUAT Rewatch 4x12 - Darkness on the Edge of Town

I hope my knowlEDGE on this episode will make for an engaging review! XD

...Yeah, this was a hard one to make a pun for. I miss the ice puns already.

Anyway, as I said, just below the cut, there’s an honestly fairly short review by my regular standards. If you feel like checking it out, go below the cut!

So, if you’re at all familiar with my reviews, by now you know that I usually post my main takeaways here, but this time, I don’t really have them and what I do have to say is small enough to not need a ton of elaboration. So instead, we’re gonna skip it this time and just go right to the Stream of Consciousness! With that being said...

Stream of Consciousness

-”Tried to impregnate.” Not even one minute in and we get a hentai joke!!! XD I love this series!

-You know, the music that play in the Storybrooke owner sounds like a somewhat harsher version of what is later the happy endings montage in Season 6, as if to say a lot is right, but not everything.

-I would honestly love more Snow and Bird interactions! XD

-Wait, so is Granny’s just closed, or is she babysitting WHILE running a popular diner! This woman is a freakin’ superhero! Also, where’s David?

-I love how Belle actually thinks to reach out to people outside the fairy tale world.

-”How could I have been so weak?” MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY.

-”You -- you should’ve been stronger, but you weren’t, and well...neither was I.” No. I love Killian, Belle, but there was a difference between Killian being sort of manipulated (sort of -- the present segment of “The Apprentice” just sucks) and being straight up lied to.

-”I just hope he’s found whatever it is he’s looking for.” Umm, considering when you last saw him, he was looking to kill people and take over the world, you probably shouldn’t hope that! XD

-I repeat what I asked in the last episode: WHY are all of these fairytale creatures living in New York! I love my home state, but it is EXPENSIVE!

-You know, I just feel really bad for Ursula. We don’t see enough of what she did as a villain to hate her in any way and in this world, apparently all she can afford to eat is RAMEN! That is so fucking sad! This woman does not deserve this!

-”What you do is complain.” And what you do is mooch, Rumple! Don’t bitch at the person who is hosting you, especially when she’s pissed! See, the one thing about being a coward (And I am a big fucking coward) is that we’re not confrontative when we don’t have the power! XD

-I love the implication that Cruella just went around our land AND landed a rich husband with the name “Cruella.” XD

-You know, CAN Cruella kill in a land without magic? Because no one else’s magic works, so maybe she’s been free all along! ...But then again, she probably would’ve killed her husband, so I guess it’s more of a reverse Weaver situation. Actually, to serve my point, at the end of the scene, Cruella drives down and like by all means, should’ve killed this guy but instead gets flung back into a bush! The universe is conspiring against her!

-”Aren’t you tired of feeling ordinary?” Please, even in this world, Cruella’s far from ordinary! Besides, for the wham line that this is, Cruella’s problem wasn’t that she was ordinary -- it’s that she couldn’t kill!

-Okay, so apparently Regina has a weakness for root beer! I hate the stuff, but good to know!

-I love how Killian smiles at Belle as she tells them that she did it! He’s so proud!

-Cruella’s power is so fucking cool! She can not only control animals, BUT she can have her commands spread from one animal to another. Like, how did this woman not at the very least take over a whole town with an army of rhinos?

-How come Mal’s staff absorbed the fire instead of just...Mal? She’s a fire breathing dragon! Give her some extra fire!

-Or...CAN Cruella kill? Because Rumple knows she can’t kill, but is still afraid?

-I know that Blue and Regina are far from friends, but it’s weird how much focus is put on their dynamic in this episode. There’s a lot of hesitation whenever they interact and given how little they interact on a regular basis, it’s odd.

-Why wouldn’t Blue not know or even not think about the possibility of the Author working for The Sorcerer, or vice versa?

-When did Isaac have the time to leave these “hidden clues?” And how come neither Merlin nor The Apprentice had anything to say about them if they were rumors?

-”This isn’t our first monster bash.” I honestly love how freakin’ well oiled this town is at times!

-I’m honestly curious what a 4B where the Queens of Darkness do decide to leave Rumple behind would look like. Because Cruella would’ve at least considered it, let’s be honest. I’m not saying I’d have preferred that, but I would totally read a fic of that universe.

-You know, I like the subtle costume details of just how destitute Rumple’s life has become. Everything from his phone to his cane are of poorer quality and his coat looks like he got it out of Goodwill. It a really good instance of costuming telling a story.

-”The sea bitch.” To my knowledge, you and Ursula have never met! Why are you calling her a bitch?

-”Swallows the heart with the darkest potential.” I’m trying to think about this in regards to Emma, the character we’re supposed to believe fulfills that role. I mean, sort of. I can see her intelligence, ability to detect lies, and connection to her family and friends to have potential to be abused to the detriment of others. It’s an interesting concept. And given how life in Storybrooke, while rewarding in a lot of senses, has made her life complicated as all hell, I can see her having a lot of baggage about it.

-David, welcome to the fucking episode! Seriously, was Josh just sick this week or something?

-”What made you choose yellow?” I love how Regina asks this as a means of not freaking the fuck out that a Chernabog is chasing her! It’s a very Regina thing to comment on and it’s hysterical because of it!

-I like how Emma points out the hypocrisy at play with her parents not trusting these two lower tier villains.

-”Not as horrible as I once was. And if I deserve a second chance, so do they. How can I sit here looking for my happiness and deny two others a chance at theirs?” This is a FANTASTIC Regina speech. It really shows how Regina’s grown to be more self aware and better equipped to help redeem other villains.

-I kind of wish Rumple had more of a scared reaction to the possibility of not being let into Storybrooke. Like, the rest of his life depends on this.

-”Make friends, build relationships.” And NONE of this ever happens! XD

Favorite Dynamic

The Queens of Darkness and Rumple - These guys are the main dynamic and they really do provide the most entertainment value. First, I want to point out how cool it is that Rumple is the one with power (both actual and figurative) in the past segment while the queens are in the present. That’s just interesting storytelling. Second, what I love about them in the present is that they get just as exasperated as we do about how frustratingly vague Rumple often is and that they use their power in the situation to get him to fucking stop to some degree. Their frustration slowly but noticeably builds up in the episode as Rumple continues not really saying anything and finally explodes and that is honestly really cathartic to watch. For as much as I love Rumple for how cryptic he can be, its a quality of his character that can easily be overdone and in a meta-sense, this was pointed out in-universe and almost prevents him from losing his own plan of revenge.

Writer

Adam and Eddy start up our half season with a solid start. Again, there’s not a lot to say here because while these two episodes have stories, they’re not so much rooted in something like theme which can be analyzed. The characters are all in solid form, and Regina’s in particularly great form. I will say though, there is a clunkiness to a lot of the lines. Sometimes, it’s a matter of people giving weird exposition or explaining things in a way that characters shouldn’t be able to understand (Ex. The entire middle of Killian and Belle’s discussion, Rumple telling Ursula and Cruella about being the Oxford professor).

Rating

10/10. I feel like there’s a singular word to describe this episode: Utilitarian. It’s all setup and a bit of tying loose ends up with a really basic ‘working together is good’ storyline in the past and sort of present. That’s not to say that it’s bad -- far from it. It just means that there’s not a lot of story to comment on. But this is a good version of setting up a story and biting off a loose end of two. There’s a lot of fun and interesting dynamics, it’s great to see all of our main heroes working together, and the queens get to show off the bulk of their charisma and intrigue.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Captain Swan - I love the bits of domesticity we get with Emma and Killian here. You can see that they’re really gotten the most out of these six weeks and have integrated themselves into each others lives. Like, the sequence at the beginning of the episode implies that this is a normal morning for the people of Storybrooke and Emma and Killian are literally part of each others routines! That shit is just too fucking cute!!! I’mma also plug my fic “Hero,” which is based around this episode. It’s one of my better work in my humble opinion and deals directly with Killian’s doubts in his own heroism that he displays in the hallway scene. Speaking of which, I do like the hallway scene. While I don’t like Emma giving Killian a total free pass, I do think that with the fairies, it’s warranted and deserved given how he very clearly didn’t want to go through with it.

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Thank you all for reading this pretty relaxed review. Sorry for all the delays lately, but I’m hoping I can pick up the pace from here.

Also, shoutout to @watchingfairytales and @daensarah. See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (105/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (30/50) Andrew Chambliss: (14/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (14/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

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