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meme-streets · 3 months

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dollars event warmup activity 3 crossover: once upon a time in the west (inspired by the story about how the trio were almost hired to play those three gunmen at the beginning of once upon a time) ---

The man who hired them had pale blue eyes and a twisted-up smile that Blondie didn’t like. He finds he’s still thinking about it the whole ride over.

“We’re right on time,” Angel Eyes says with satisfaction, glancing at his watch as they tie their horses outside the station. His voice is low, conspiratorial. “You two ready?” “Yeah, yeah, we’re ready,” Tuco grouses, rolling his eyes at the question. “Right, Blondie?” “Sure.”

There’s nothing much inside to be ready for. The train station–if it can even be called that–is next to deserted when they walk in, save a woman that Angel Eyes sends running into the sunbaked wastes despite the dirty look Blondie gives him and an elderly telegraph operator that Tuco makes quick work of: locked up in the closet. They poke around a little more, just in case, and find nothing of concern. Not a word between them. Then they stake their positions and wait.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. A horsefly flits through the harsh summer air. Tuco’s set up in one of the rocking chairs just outside the central building, leaned back with his hat over his eyes like he’s planning on taking a nap, which takes a level of trust or arrogance or both that the other two of them don’t have. The fly has other ideas; it seems to have taken an interest in terrorizing him, and consequently he ends up trying to fight it off. The fly seems to be winning.

Drip. Drip. Drip. There’s a leak in the ceiling. Angel Eyes, for some reason, has picked himself out a spot directly underneath it. Droplets bounce off the crown of his hat and collect along the brim, but he remains, statue-still, as if he doesn’t even notice.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. The weathervane turns in the wind. Leaned at the hip against an old horse trough, Blondie trails a hand idly in the sun-warmed water and squints into the glaring sun down the tracks at nothing. He turns back to cast his gaze over the desolate station and his two would-be partners. All things considered, he does prefer shooting at the same target than at each other, just for practicality’s sake.

After a moment he pulls his hand out of the water and wipes it with a certain amount of distaste on his ragged red duster. They’re all three clad in one, at their blue-eyed employer’s insistence. Smells like a frame-up job, he had said to Tuco, who’d just shrugged and said it was all the better: couldn’t be traced back to them. He’d had to concede it was a good point. Doesn’t mean he has to like it. That’s just one of the things he doesn’t like about this job. The whole thing is rotten and he’d thought so from the beginning. Not just the frame-up–though he does, as a rule, hate getting involved in other people’s personal feuds–but the whole premise. Meet a man at the train station and shoot him. A fellow he’d never seen before causing trouble, trying to hunt him down, the man who hired them had said (his name was Frank, if Blondie recalls correctly, but he hadn’t liked him enough to care). He hadn’t believed a word of that. Of course, Tuco and Angel Eyes hadn’t either; it was a bad lie and hadn’t tried not to be. But they hadn’t cared as much as he had. And it had to be three men, he’d been insistent on that. “I didn’t get where I am by being careless,” the blue-eyed man had said, as if this was some profound wisdom they were too foolish to understand, and Blondie had wondered for neither the first nor the last time why he was entertaining this whole addle-headed idea to begin with.

It’d been his luck that Angel Eyes had caught them at the right (or the wrong) time: in a lull, putting the bounty con on hold for a while to let the heat die down, and he had a job for three guys paying good money. Suspiciously good money, really, which is the other thing he’d pointed out, but Tuco had said not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it’d be nice to make a buck without a rope around his neck, and the last thing Blondie felt like was another argument about money (they’ve been having a lot of those lately) so he’d just dropped it. Tuco had joined up for the money, of course. Angel Eyes had made some noise about not forgetting old friends, but neither of them really believed it, not after whatever kind of falling out Tuco had apparently had with him however far back. Blondie, for his part, had been coaxed into hearing the offer because he and Tuco are partners–even if that technically only applies to the bounty scam–and with no ropes to shoot, he’d had nothing better to do. But he hadn’t been convinced. Then Angel Eyes, upon hearing his arguments, had turned to Tuco and joked, “I think he’s just afraid of being outdrawn,” and that was the kind of thing that no gunslinger worth his salt could let slide, however stupid it might be, so he’d had to say yes.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He sighs and shifts position against the trough, starts cracking his knuckles one after the other. Flexes his fingers when he’s done. At least it pays well. And when it’s over and done with, he can take this raggedy old coat off. Maybe it’s vain of him, but it looks awful with his hat.

Lowly, softly, the tracks begin to rumble. Blondie looks down across the rails again, but there’s nothing yet. You always hear them before you see them. Distantly, the whistle howls. He keeps looking, the rumble growing stronger and stronger, the water in the trough trembling with ripples, until finally in the blue-brown distance he sees the gray beginnings of the engine. Hands on their guns, they wait.

At last, the train screams to a halt and sits before them, huffing smoke like a live thing. Still, they wait.

A door opens; they all tense, a string drawn tight–but it’s only a mail drop. The door slides shut. Nobody gets off.

Blondie doesn’t like this. It smells like a trap, like a setup, and his instinct with these things has never failed him before; he’d be long dead if it had. He watches Angel Eyes’s fingers twitch against his holster. Watches Tuco glance between them and then tip his head, once: a signal. They all three move across to the center of the platform and shake their heads at each other as the train starts to huff and puff out of the station. “Wrong train,” Tuco says simply. “We’ll go back inside and ask that telegraph operator.” “Alright,” Angel Eyes agrees, and Blondie shrugs. They start to turn.

From behind them comes the wail of a harmonica, and every last hair on the back of Blondie’s neck stands straight up.

There’s a man standing behind the tracks. They only see him as the train chugs out of their way, with a pack hanging from one hand and the other raised to his mouth, sliding that harp back and forth as he plays, that godawful noise filling up the empty sky above the station. Gets into of Blondie’s bones and makes him feel plucked like a wrong chord, the sound thrumming all inside of him. There’s something horribly wrong, here. He’s never felt this way in a standoff. “And Frank?” says the man. Angel Eyes shakes his head. “Frank sent us.” “You bring a horse for me?” The other two glance back at the post where their horses are tied. “Looks like we’re shy one horse,” Angel Eyes says, chuckling. Tuco laughs too. Blondie doesn’t. He can’t shake the feeling they shouldn’t have agreed. The stranger shakes his head, slow, solemn. “You brought two too many.” They aren’t smiling anymore.

The seconds drag by, stretch out, jute-rope-taught. The harmonica echoes in his ears.

A volley of gunfire. Pain explodes in his ribs. He pulls the trigger, stumbles, and falls.

The weathervane turns. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

#harry's writing #fanfic #the good the bad and the ugly #dollars trilogy #once upon a time in the west #surprise surprise. i'm not satisfied with this one either #i'm holding off posting this to ao3 even though it's long bc i might rewrite the entire thing oops

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koiranliha · 1 day

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on once upon a witchlight episode 6. i need to draw all of these outfits as soon as i can.

#not yet though i'm so close to finishing this rewrite and i have like 4 days left #i've written down what the outfits are though so i can do it at some point #ouaw #once upon a witchlight #legends of avantris #spaghetti wall

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compacflt · 8 months

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I've read the original version of WWGATTAI and I was wondering why you later decided to have Pete sleep around during their "break up" or rocky patch. I think in the first version he just flirts with others but later tells Ice that he'd burst into flames if he actually slept with anyone else. Did you see it as cheating or did you see it as them being in a very real separation that both were aware of?

oh shit someone who read the original shitty version 😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay thanks for sticking with me that long firstly

okay—that part of the story was the first part i ever wrote (besides the epilogue which was actually first) so i just didn’t know how it would play out, so there’s that—I didn’t think through the consequences of ice’s betrayal at ALL so that’s the whole reason why i went back and edited it

Secondly, (see here for another post about this), no, I don’t think of it as cheating. they weren’t in a relationship (like they Were but they also weren’t). they were in a situationship that got out of hand. if ice is jealous/butthurt about maverick sleeping around then he is coping & seething and should be made fun of

thirdly, mavericks an unrealistically handsome single guy in his early forties who may have just wasted the last decade of his life on a man who betrayed him/his family & basically dumped him & left him, so not unexpected that he would retaliate by sleeping with other people.

fourthly, as maverick says above, “it’s a distraction,” “[it’s someone who is] not you. I just can’t seem to shake you. I don’t know what else to do.” he feels like he is out of options & he himself is too cowardly to break things off with ice so he’s waiting for ice to break things off with him. him sleeping around = a.) satisfying a physical need that ice used to fulfill before he left b.) shopping around for other people c.) retaliating for ice’s betrayal d.) trying to provoke ice into breaking up with him e.) attempting to distract himself from how much he misses ice

#‘he even bags a captain once’ seems implausible actually. don’t listen to me.#mav fails to understand that it does not occur to ice to be jealous because ice was not aware they were exclusive in the first place #check out the post i linked #thanks for the ask! ❤️ i think of the original wwgattai and shiver with cringe so thanks for sticking with me #shit sometimes i think of the current wwgattai and shiver with cringe #the mortifying ordeal of posting writing to the internet #but thanks for hanging around ❤️❤️❤️#means a lot to me #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #asks #edts notes #maszlows hierarchy of needs but it’s mav trying to fulfill himself thru casual sex at age 42 #never too late when you look like early 2000s tom cruise #the breakup section of debriefing is 2x as long as it should be bc of the rewrites #like it is a little tortured i freely admit #but at a certain point i was gonna have a psychotic break if i kept rewriting that whole section #> ok have i impressed upon you that mav is mad even after ice comes home momentarily? ✅#> ok is it fully 2 months after i said i would post the edits? ✅#> ok fuck it it’s done full send #the lcdr he sleeps with is NOT in his chain of command btw #actually maybe she is that wouldn’t be ooc for mav ngl #guy who canonically wolfishly pursued his program instructor

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anmylica · 10 months

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Fly With The Black Swan

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @zaharadessert @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Summary: Captain Hook has finally returned to the Enchanted Forest after an all-too-long stint in the Enchanted Forest, ready to get his revenge, only he’s too late. His Crocodile has been killed by another, but the demon partially responsible for his Milah’s death remains. He sets out, determined to kill the demon once and for all, but a life or death situation puts him right in the demon’s clutches. Reluctantly, he joins the new Dark One, finding himself falling for her against his will and his motivations change. Now, he needs to save this woman from the same demon that killed his first love, and he plans out a way to save her.

But the Darkness has plans of its own.

CSSNS ‘23 Entry. Based on the Sonata Arctica song “Fly With The Black Swan”

Note: I have no idea if this is going to post or not. I am currently in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico with crappy satellite internet and none of my other attempts have gone through. Seriously, I’ve tried it a million times by this point. Maybe this time is the charm? I guess we’ll see. If it does post, I will be editing this Saturday to clean it up when I get home.

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The Jolly Roger landed hard in the ocean waters with a great splash that sent droplets of water into the air and on the deck, drenching most of her crew in the process. Captain Hook stood at the helm, seemingly unaffected by the wake, scanning the seas for any danger, always on his guard. He took a deep breath, turning his face up to the sun high in the sky, practically tasting the ocean on his tongue and thought, ‘This is what freedom smells like.’ The sails glittered with the remnants of the last vial of pixie dust he would ever have to use to get his ship airborne for a sojourn back to the Enchanted Forest again.

He had just spent countless years sailing the never ending circle of Neverland’s waters in the reluctant employ of a demon in a child’s body, never seeing the sun except for when he was Pan’s errand boy on a supply run back to the Enchanted Forest. His years under the deal with Pan were finally complete, and he felt that he had enough information to achieve his true mission: skinning his Crocodile.

Captain Hook stared at the cloudless sky, pondering his next steps as his first mate, William Smee, blundered about giving orders to the others. His crew scurried about letting out sails, hauling in lines, securing their goods, and generally making preparations to sail to the destination their captain ordered. Throughout the hustle and bustle, their captain stood stoic at the helm. He did not steer; his helmsman, Antonio Buckham, had the pleasure of directing the ship, and he stood with his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes on his captain’s profile, awaiting orders.

Hook’s forget-me-not blue eyes finally left the horizon and focused upon the map in front of him. If he had landed his ship in the location he had wanted, then he was just due south of Glowerhaven. This was a pirate-friendly port, and it was going to be the best place at which they could restock their supplies. He looked over at Buckham, who stood anticipating his orders.

“Make way to Glowerhaven,” Hook ordered, and Buckham nodded once.

“Aye, Captain,” he responded, turning to the rest of the crew before bellowing, “Make way to Glowerhaven!”

The crew repeated the order, and Buckham turned the wheel slightly as the others adjusted the sails. Through it all, Hook said nothing else, just watched the sea and the sky pass them by as they sailed towards their port of call. It was a sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky. A good wind at their backs filled the sails and carried them over the water so smoothly it was as if the ship was flying over the waves. All around the deck, his crew carried out their orders, bringing them into the port where they could find a tavern and food and relish their newfound freedom. Hook surveyed the work with disinterest, for so long as they arrived at their destination without issue, it did not matter to him how his crew did their jobs.

His cold, hard, forget-me-not blue eyes watched ahead of the bow as the land of the Enchanted Forest appeared in view. His jaw clenched at the sight. It was there that he would finally fulfill his life’s purpose. As the land grew closer and the short skyline of Glowerhaven became more distinct, he was filled with a sense that, at last, he was on the path for his vengeance. He was about to find his happy ending, however bittersweet it may be. A determined, almost manic glint filled his eyes, and his crew gave him side glances and moved away from him, hoping to avoid his ire, though he paid them no mind.

An hour later, The Jolly Roger had been docked into her berth, the crew had all left, and those tasked with her watch were settled in for a few hours. Hook was the last to leave, wanting to make sure everything was just so. He sauntered down the alleyways between buildings into a tavern at which he had long since been a patron. He knew that the last pieces of his plan could be crafted with information the owner likely had.

He opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the room for any potentially unsavory situations. The room was dimly lit and dirty, much like all portside taverns throughout the realms of the Enchanted Forest. Rough hewn tables of various sizes filled the room and stools of varying heights were haphazardly placed by each table. There weren’t many people occupying the tavern at this time of day, and so most of the tables were empty. His crew occupied a few, already having drinks and food delivered by several barmaids. The bar was manned by a lone attendant, and it was to her that he made his way.

He slid onto a stool at the bar in front of her with a beguiling grin on his face. The old woman scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she moved closer, grabbing a bottle of rum and a glass on her way.

“What are you scallywags doing here,” she demanded, plunking down the bottle and glass roughly. She looked over her glasses at Hook and stared him down, causing him to grin even wider.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend,” he responded, moving to open the bottle and pour himself a finger’s width of rum. He had no plans on getting drunk, but he wasn’t about to turn down the libation.

“You’re hardly a friend,” she retorted, causing him to laugh.

“A patron then,” he amended. “A well-paying patron.”

The woman surveyed him hard and then nodded. “What do you want, Hook?”

He shook his head slightly as he raised the glass to his lips and knocked back the measure of rum. “Many things,” he said, placing the glass back on the bar. “Mostly, I’d like information at the moment.”

The woman crossed her arms. “I ain’t got information.”

Hook smirked. “Come, now, Granny, you and I both know you’re the best there is at collecting information. And we both know how valuable I find it.”

He took out his coin purse and very deliberately counted out five doubloons. Granny watched him as he did so, quirking an eyebrow at him before sighing.

“You want to know about the Dark One’s movements,” she said, grabbing a second glass and pouring herself a measure of rum.

“Aye.” Hook eyed her with curiosity, as this was definitely out of the norm for their usual pattern of conversation.

Granny took a sip of her drink and met his eyes. “You’re a bit behind the times.”

“How so?” Hook questioned, leaning closer to the old woman, a frown on his face at Granny’s implication.

“The Dark One you chase is no longer the host of the Darkness. The host has changed,” Granny said bluntly, a strange look crossing her face.

Hook blinked as Granny fell silent, sipping her rum to allow him time to process her words. He didn’t move as he tasted the information on his lips, a horrible sensation of dread and despair filling him. His immediate instinct was to deny that it was possible, but he knew deep down that the woman’s look of despair and grief couldn’t be anything but real.

“Who is it now?” he asked, studying her face carefully, hoping to pick up on some nuance in her communication. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but he felt disappointment all the same when he realize how upset she was.

Granny poured herself a bit more rum into the half-full glass and knocked back the entire thing in one swallow. Hook watched her dispassionately. She grimaced out of grief, and Hook realized this topic was a festering wound though he didn’t know why.

“I don’t know,” Granny denied, and Hook got the sense that she did indeed know but didn’t want to admit it.

Hook clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes. He felt a rage that he hadn’t felt since Rumplestiltskin had taken his hand and his love from him. All these years of seeking revenge, and for what? What was he left with now? He snarled at the thought of the Crocodile evading his hook another time.

Granny cleared her throat as she choked back tears, calling his attention back to her before he could fall any more into his anger. Her wet eyes shocked him out of his rage long enough to restore sense to his head. “You want any more than that, you’re out of luck. I know nothing else.”

Granny poured herself another shot and knocked it back. Once she had finished, she stood and moved down to another end of the bar without another word. Hook contemplated the bottle before deciding that today’s news had been bad enough. He poured himself a healthy measure and drained the glass. He glanced over to Smee and beckoned his head. Smee scrambled to his side, and when Smee was within earshot, he said, “Tomorrow we travel to the Dark One’s castle.”

Smee blinked before widening his eyes in fear. “To the Dark One’s castle?”

“Aye,” Hook responded. “There will be information there that we need.”

“But won’t he-“ Smee began but Hook cut him off.

“Apparently someone else got to the Crocodile before us. I want to know who and why.” Hook’s eyes hardened in resolve, and Smee gulped before nodding his head. “My best chance at getting answers is there.”

As Smee scrambled off back to the crew to pass the news around, Hook drank another healthy measure of rum, resigned to the situation at hand. This was merely a minor setback in his quest for revenge. He’d waited this long; he could bide his time a little longer.

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful, completely at odds with Hook’s mood. Hook had already left instructions to the next man in charge for getting supplies in his stead. He and Smee arranged for a couple of horses for the journey inland, and they made sure to have the necessary supplies for their journey.

The journey itself to the Dark One’s castle was mostly uneventful. Hook and Smee endeavored to find out all they could about the Dark One’s whereabouts, but no one wanted to talk. Either they didn’t know or they avoided the conversation once questions were asked and quickly hurried off on their way. Hook was quickly becoming vexed with the situation. He needed answers now.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Smee attempted to reassure him after their latest fruitless encounter in a village just south of the Southern Kingdom’s borders. “We’ll find out more at the next inn.”

Hook just sighed in response. It would do no good taking his ire out on Smee. Not when the man was trying to help. Hook just nudged his horse forward into a trot.

“We can find out all we need once we reach the Dark One’s castle. Come and let us stop wasting time,” Hook replied.

Smee said nothing in response. Hook supposed it was because Smee could see just how fine the leash was on his temper. The two rode on in silence, crossing into the Moors kingdom just before nightfall. They stopped at an inn for the night, keeping their ears fruitlessly peeled for any hint of gossip. None could be heard that bore any importance for their quest.

The next morning’s travels brought about similar results. They crossed the small leg of the East Mountains and into Capetia at around noon. They stopped briefly at a tavern for food before moving on. The ride was boring, and Hook’s mind wandered as the horse trudged onward.

Just who had managed to get the best of the Crocodile? How had that happened? Would there even be anything of value at Rumplestiltskin’s old castle? Was all of this just Hook grasping at straws, unwilling to let a past wrong go, even after the culprit was long gone?

Hook didn’t think so, but he had been wrong before. He decided that the only way he was going to get answers was by raiding Rumplestiltskin’s castle. He could decide on the next course to set once he saw the state of things there.

They reached the edge of the Dark Forest that evening. He and Smee lit a fire for safety and camped under the stars. Neither spoke very much, for Hook was too deep in thought and Smee knew better than to push his Captain when the man was pensive like this. The night passed by uneventfully, and the next morning dawned bright.

A hard ride resulted in their arriving at the perimeter of the Dark One’s lands just after noon. They pulled their horses up short as they surveyed the imposing structure in the distance.

“So that’s the Dark One’s castle,” Smee muttered. “Do you think maybe he was compensating for something?”

Hook sniggered. “Most assuredly. We need to be cautious. If the rumors are false, and he is still alive, he won’t take kindly to seeing either of us.”

Smee nodded vigorously and they dismounted their horses. They tied the mounts off, leaving them plenty of slack to graze, and they slunk off in the direction of danger. They crept along in the surrounding woods, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears alert.

The woods were silent. It was eerie how no animals rustled in the undergrowth, how no birds tweeted in the trees above them. The closer they got to the castle, the quieter it got. Hook felt dizzy with how much he kept looking around them, just waiting for an ambush.

Finally they got close enough that the front doors were just in front of them. The castle had a derelict, abandoned feel. No smoke rose from the myriad chimneys; no movement could be detected behind the windows. The facade was covered in overrun ivies and weeds littered the overgrown lawn.

“Well, Captain, there might just be some truth to the rumors after all.”

Hook glanced at Smee. “It seems safe enough so far, but keep on your guard.”

Hook and Smee each grasped a door handle of the giant wooden doors and pulled with all their might, not noticing the wave of blue light that swept the yard as they did so. Slowly, creaking in protest the entire time, the doors gave away. Hook was just about to step inside the foyer when a fireball came soaring at them. Hook and Smee dove for the ground, managing to just narrowly avoid it. They watched as it flew into a tree and caught it on fire. The flames whooshed as it engulfed the large tree and devoured it until nothing but ash remained. They stared at it before looking at each other.

“Let’s hope that’s the only thing waiting for us,” Hook said. Smee chuckled nervously and they both scrambled up into standing positions. They glanced at the opening, but nothing else seemed to be waiting.

“Shall we try this again, sir,” Smee asked uncertainly.

Hook nodded once. “Without the fireballs, preferably.”

They crept through the arched doorway, sticking to the sides, but nothing else happened. The foyer beyond was dark and cold. It gave off a chilling air of abandonment. Hook and Smee exchanged looks.

“Shall we split up sir? Cover more ground that way,” Smee offered as he shrugged.

Hook considered his first mate for a moment, eyebrow tilting up a bit. On the one hand, splitting up could be a trap, but on the other, they waste valuable time searching together.

Hook nodded once. “Yell if you find anything.”

“Aye, aye,” replied Smee before heading to the rooms on the left. Hook decided to go up the grand staircase that lay in waiting just in front of him.

He walked up the steps one at a time, slowly prowling forward, always expecting another type of security measure. Nothing happened.

The lack of reaction set him on edge even more than he had been before entering the abandoned building. He expected Rumplestiltskin’s slimy high pitched giggle to sound behind him at any moment. As the minutes dragged on, he became even more unnerved at the lack of the coward’s appearance.

He stepped onto the next floor and looked around him. The second floor had the same derelict feel as the downstairs. There was no sign of anyone’s inhabitance. He crept forward, resting his palm in the jolt of his sword, keeping his hook at the ready. The first room he came to was some sort of guest room, but for whom, Hook couldn’t begin to say. He didn’t believe the Crocodile had many guests. The imp hadn’t been known for his hospitality, after all. He searched the room, but nothing was there besides tacky furniture and dusty bedclothes. Hook left the room as quickly as he entered it.

The silence in this place was eerie. It set his teeth on edge, and he clenched his jaw out of tension. He crept down the hallway, forgoing searching other countless bedchambers. The stench of Dark magic hung in the air, cloying and sickening. The further down the hall he traveled, the more palpable the magic became.

He went up another staircase, choosing to follow the feeling of the magic instead of investigating every room. Hook figured the odds of finding something were better if he traced the magic. He hadn’t felt this kind of sensation, this tingling numbness, since the Crocodile had been on the deck of his ship, changing Hook’s life forever.

He followed the tingle of the magic until he arrived in front of what appeared to be a private study. He opened the double doors and walked into a large room. A giant table occupied the center of the room, and display cases that had once held whatever objects Rumplestiltskin deemed important surrounded the table. The room had been decorated in rich shades of red and gold, but now a thick layer of dust covered everything.

The room looked as if it had been ransacked by looters at some undetermined point. Hook breathed a heavy sigh. This beyond anything else convinced him that the Crocodile was gone. Looters wouldn’t have been able to mauraud this castle if Rumplestiltskin had still been alive. Hook felt a dull sensation curdle in his stomach that he belatedly recognized was disappointment.

Discouraged, he wandered into the room, no less on his guard than before, but no longer expecting his mortal enemy to appear before him sniggering with twisted glee. He rummaged through the detritus, looking for something but not knowing what it was. After shuffling a few plates around, he saw a brown piece of fabric, dirtied with age and a few dried blood stains. He frowned and picked it up, his heart sinking even lower in his chest.

He knew those stitches.

He stood and shook the fabric out, using his hook to help fan it out to make sure that it was what he thought it was. He smiled a grim smile at the confirmation. It was a shawl. He recognized the handiwork as Milah’s, and he suddenly felt like crying. It must have belonged to Bae.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, hoping to drown the burning sensation, and rapidly tried to blink tears away. He folded it as carefully as he could, caressing the fabric as he did so. He took a step towards the door, intending to leave this room and all its ghosts behind, when he stepped on something that slid as he put his weight down.

Catching himself from falling, he looked at his feet and saw a cane. He moved his shoe off the wood and bent down to pick it up, recognizing it to be that old cane the Crocodile had once used to walk when the coward boarded his ship for the first time. He held it against the shawl that was also in his hand for a moment, considering all the possibilities that could have happened and didn’t, all the ways fate could have worked out differently for him.

Frustrated, he threw the cane away from him and turned to walk out. As he threw it, a shimmering came from the far corner of the room, catching his attention. The shimmering revealed a cabinet that extended from floor to ceiling. He stared in disbelief at it before his heart started racing. This was what he had been looking for!

He hurried to it and wrenched the doors open, seeing all kinds of magical items and whatnots. Books were stacked high in all areas, potion ingredients were stored three lines deep in bottles, with some already being completed. Magical objects filled the empty areas, and wands were held in stands. The magical items weren’t necessarily what he needed, but the books… the books might just be the missing link.

Hook tore through the books stacked high inside the cabinet, desperately searching for something that would help him piece together what had happened. He quickly discarded the ones that looked as if they were magical instruction books, having no interest in their contents. No, he was looking for something more personal.

Seeing nothing in the stack that could help him, he turned to the table, searching for any hidden compartments. Finding two, he tore open the drawers, the contents rattling as he jerked the drawers out, quills and empty ink bottles and other rubbish littering their insides. There was nothing that could even hint at the circumstances that finally resulted in the demon's demise.

He searched in this manner until he had combed through the entire room. If there had ever been any records, they had long since been hidden or destroyed. The fruitlessness of the search just made Hook more determined.

There had to be another room he had overlooked in this overgrown hunk of an imitation castle. Moving decisively towards the door, his hook got caught in a hole in a shelf of the cabinet in his haste. Hook yanked his hook out of the hole it had gotten lodged in, and the shelf came crashing, the contents falling to the floor in a great crash. Hook just managed to jump out of the way in time.

Hook scanned the rubbish, finding it absolutely ridiculous that Rumplestiltskin had never bothered to secure the blasted thing when it had borne all that weight when something caught his eye.

He scanned the back of the cabinet again, his brow furrowing in concentration. There! A glimmer!! He tilted his head this way and that as he tried to determine from where the glimmer had come. He noticed a notch from in between the wooden panels that covered the back of the shelf.

He put his hook into the notch, which was just big enough for the tip of his hook to lodge into, and pulled. The back panel was stubborn and didn’t come off. He sighed and maneuvered his hook deeper into the hole to provide himself with a bit more leverage. He wrapped his hand around his brace and pulled again, this time with all his strength.

The back panel came loose with a loud screech. It had detached just enough so he could see a small book inside. The cabinet must have had a false backing that only the crocodile would know about.

“Clever,” Hook muttered to himself as he reached in and clasped the book in his hand. Once he had pulled it out, he wiggled his hook out of the hole and set out to peruse the book. It had to contain something of importance if the Crocodile had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden.

He opened the book as he sank into a nearby chair that hadn’t toppled over in his haste to further ransack the room. Hook was pleased to find that it was a handwritten journal. He flipped through the pages slowly, finding a lot of drivel about magical experiments that didn’t interest Hook. Most of it was useless, but almost at the end of the journal, the writing changed. It was spiky, with very slanted words (a far different type of handwriting from Rumplestiltskin's scrawled handwriting).

The script made the document hard to read, so Hook skimmed the pages looking for any clues as to what had happened to the Crocodile (and most importantly, whom had killed him). He flipped through page after page, almost falling into a trance as he skimmed over the entry. Just when he thought the journal had nothing of importance, his eyes caught upon a very familiar name.

Milah.

Hook’s heart skipped a beat. He read the sentence that contained her name but found it didn’t make sense in the context, so he backtracked until he fell upon a section that seemed to detail why her name was on the page.

As he read the entry, his blood began to boil.

It had been easy enough to convince Rumplestiltskin that the only way to satisfy his broken heart upon learning his once beloved wife had fallen in love with someone else was to rip out her heart and crush it. With this, I believe that Rumplestiltskin’s last dregs of humanity have been thoroughly eradicated. I have been successful in imprinting myself irrevocably within his soul. With his black heart now thoroughly darkened, he will have no hope of the use of Light Magic against me, that cursed abomination of a magical force.

I had thought seeing him abandon and break a deal with his son was the ultimate test of his loyalty to me, but his murder of Milah showed me the depths of depravity he is willing to sink to. It will be so much easier to twist and bend Rumplestiltskin’s actions to my will. It was amusing to see how little he resisted the urge once I placed the thought in his head to kill her. He almost seemed to welcome it.

I think the coward enjoyed the thrill of the power I wield over life. He will be much more pliant to fulfilling my desires, I think. After all, he will not want to give up the control over the magic I have given him easily. This just serves as further proof that humanity is corruptible and unworthy of the gifts they have been bestowed. They will all bow to me before it is over. I must make my own plans for that day. This vessel will not be able to support me for very long, and the time will eventually come to find another host.

Hook continued to read, but the rest of the passage detailed how it felt to crush a heart and the magic that had to go into the action. He felt sick the more he tried to read, and he closed the book in disgust. His heart lay in jagged pieces at his feet at the information he had sought and obtained.

Rumplestiltskin had merely been a pawn in Milah’s death. Oh, Hook didn’t doubt that Rumplestiltskin desired her death; by the end, the man had looked upon his estranged wife with hatred in his eyes. But to learn that Hook’s love had been killed because some demon had wanted it done to prove a point? That was like rubbing salt in an already festering and infected wound.

Hook grit his teeth. He snatched the journal up and tucked it into one of the hidden pockets in his leather duster. His revenge was still possible. All he had to do was find the demon that killed her and find a way to end its existence.

He threw open the door, hollering for Smee. His first mate came running.

“Tell me you’ve found something of value in this place,” Hook commanded.

Smee held up a dreamcatcher. “I found this. I think it could tell us who the next Dark One is!”

“What is it?” Hook asked, puzzled as to how such an object would be able to tell them anything.

“I don’t know what it’s called, but when I held it, I could see something. I think it might hold memories.” Smee held it out to his captain.

Hook took it in his hand, and once he touched it, images started to play out amongst the strings. It did look like memories. He watched as a pretty young girl, possibly mid to late twenties, approached the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin giggled, dismissing her, when she held out the dagger. He watched dispassionately as Rumple froze in disbelief. He watched the woman say something and then plunge the knife into Rumplestiltskin’s chest. He watched as oily tendrils of darkness began to ooze out of Rumpelstiltskin, making their way up the woman’s arms until it coated her in the substance. She disappeared, the knife disappearing along with her. Rumplestiltskin fell to the ground of his castle, obviously dead.

“Where did she disappear to?” Hook asked once the memories went black and the images reverted back to the strings once more.

“I don’t know, Captain. But I found this with it,” Smee said as he held up a giant black feather.

Hook took it, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Perhaps we can use this to find out.”

He turned and made his way back into the study where he had found the stash of potions. He went to the box and scanned its contents, pulling out a bottle once he had found what he was looking for. He uncorked it, Smee looking on, and poured its contents over the feather.

“Is that a locator spell?” Smee asked.

“I think so. It’s some kind of potion for it, at any rate.” He watched as the feather floated in the air before darting towards a ragged map of the Enchanted Forest that hung on the wall. It gouged itself into the map, and Hook and Smee hurried across the room to see where it was pointing.

“The North Mountains?” Smee read aloud.

“Aye,” Hook agreed. “That is our next destination. We must return to the ship at once.”

Smee nodded, and after a brief moment to figure out the exact location on the map the feather pointed to, the two men left the Dark One’s castle, never to step foot inside again.

After several days’ journey of riding hard and resting only when needed, Hook and Smee arrived back in the port town they had left the Jolly Roger moored at. After a quick replenishment of supplies, she set sail once more, this time to a village called Sapphire Springs in the Northern Kingdom.

Hartford was a quaint little village that had little to offer pirate crews, so Hook and his band rarely made port there. It was out of the way of the major shipping lanes, as it was the most remote village of the Northern Kingdom. Hook preferred doing most of his business at Glowerhaven and other larger ports where it was easier to blend in with the locals and visitors, but he had been to Sapphire Springs enough to know the lay of the land.

Hook and his crew sailed hard, avoiding most traffic in the shipping lanes. They stumbled upon a ship from Agrabah, and Hook gave the order to take it. He knew his crew would appreciate the opportunity to acquire jewels and riches when they hadn’t yet been able to take any ships since their permanent arrival back in the Enchanted Forest. The crew of the merchant ship were very amenable to surrender, and after a couple of hours, the Jolly Roger rode deeper in the water, her hull full of spices and jewels and Agrabahn wine. Hook allowed them to open a barrel, and the evening was spent toasting their success.

They made a quick stop at a port in Sherwood Forest to sell off the jewels and spices. Smee divided the spoils to the rest of the crew after selling off their wares. The crew didn’t dally long; Hook was in too much of a hurry to make it to the North Mountains to spend much time in port.

After selling off this particular haul, they set sail once more, making a beeline straight for Sappire Springs. Hook stood back, letting his crew do the sailing and navigating as they had been for centuries. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon as he came ever closer to fulfilling his destiny and achieving his happy ending (however miserable an end it may be). If he had any doubts about the dangers that lay before him, he didn’t express it.

Hook continued his vigilance until the sky turned to dusk and the night crew took over. He looked out over the water at the waves, felt the breeze on his face, and heaved a sigh. He turned and slid open the hatch to his cabin and descended the ladder, not noticing the giant black swan that swooped down from the clouds and glided over the ship for a brief moment before ascending once more into the clouds.

#CSSNS ‘23 #killian jones #captain swan #once upon a time #emma swan #ouat #captain hook #cs ff #anmylica writes #Darkness rewrite #Based on the Sonata Arctica song of the same name

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britishchick09 · 5 months

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rewrite eristine sweetly singing! :)

#i was planning on doing a christmas carols pic since i did that a year ago #but regular singing turned out so cute!!! :D #they're gazing at each other so lovingly! :)#it reminds me of belle and the beast from 'once upon a studio'!#♥#poto rewritten #edit: my mom said there should be music notes in the middle which is such a great idea!#the world could use more rewrite eristine singing pics so i'll save that for next year! ;)

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rapha-reads · 1 year

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I just finished A Curse So Dark And Lonely, by Brigid Kemmerer, and wow, it might be even better than The Beast's Heart. That's a fantastic twist on Beauty and the Beast's story, and, this time, I'm using fantastic in its literary sense of "a story that starts in the real world and then gets invaded by the magical". Harper is truly awesome and badass, and I would have loved to see Grey's POV through the story, he's so good and loyal. Rhen is interesting insomuch as he's different from what the character of the Prince usually is in these contemporary rewritings. He's much more pro-active in his life and passive in his curse, if that makes sense, while most other Princes linger in their resignation and frustration.

That was such a fascinating read, I can't wait to start writing my thesis on modern rewritings of B&tB and compare it with The Beast's Heart, A Tale of Love and Revenge, Uprooted or Once Upon A Time, Belle. If you guys know more rewritings in contemporary literature of the tale, please do drop recs, the more samples I have for my thesis, the better!

#a curse so dark and lonely #brigid kemmerer #beauty and the beast #fairy tale retelling #modern rewritings #the beast's heart #leife shallcross #beast - a tale of love and revenge #lisa jensen #once upon a time belle #cameron dokey #uprooted #naomi novik #rapha talks #rapha reads #books #books and literature #literature #i also need to get my hands on the original tale #idealy i want to send my thesis in june and defend it in july #but given that it's mid february and i'm barely starting re-reading the books and i haven't even written the abstract yet #or even contacted the professor i want to be my thesis adviser #it might have to be september #we'll see how it goes - and the thesis has to be between 45 and 100 pages so it doesn't have to be too long there's that too #we'll see we'll see #in any case do send me some more beauty and the beast modern retellings #i feel like 5 novels and the original tale is not enough for a master's thesis but i might also have the eyes bigger than the stomach #anyway anyway #i'm rambling

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chaotic-writer-7 · 2 years

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Me, with Shit CANON-Plots and a new fanfic-idea

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staliaqueen · 1 year

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heartless | 15. olive branch

pairing: henry mills x oc a/n: i made this one gayer than it was originally you’re welcome. seriously, though, killian deserved to flirt with men. he’s a slutty pirate for christ’s sake you don’t get more bisexual and that! warnings: some lewd jokes, violence. wordcount: 2488

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After she had stormed off the night before, Max's inbox was filled to the brim with emails from Henry apologizing a million times over for having forgotten to keep her in the loop. She had written back immediately to tell him that apologizing wasn't necessary — it wasn't even him she was mad at, and he had always told her everything before; he was allowed one mistake. It hadn't done much to persuade Henry, though, insisting that he should've noticed that Max was feeling left out by his family, and also apologizing for being dragged along to the trip to find Baelfire, so they'd spend even more time apart.

After Max had told him how much his apologies and worries meant to her, he calmed down a bit.

She was happy for him that he'd gotten his family back — she really was — but she couldn't deny that all these new people in Henry's life meant that there was less space for her, and she missed how it used to be.

"Max?"

The voice was Mary Margaret's. It carried from the other side of her locked door as she knocked. Max didn't answer, just continued staring upwards from where she had laid on her bed all day.

"Max, I know you're in there, and I know you're mad, and I get it. I came here to apologize."

She wasn't swayed.

"I'm sorry we left you out. We were neglectful and it won't happen again. I know how important you are to Henry, and I want you to feel like you're a part of this family, too. You're a good kid, Max. You know I've always thought that."

Max turned her head to look sideways at the door.

"David and I are going out to look for Cora and we want you to come with us. We need you, actually. We figured Hook is our best lead and you might be the only one he's willing to talk to."

Slowly, Max rose from her bed. She walked towards the door and unlocked and opened it, an unsure smile on her face.

"I'll help."

–––

While Mary Margaret thought it was best to bring Max along since she was friends with Killian and he would be more likely to listen to her, her husband didn't seem to agree. He simply would not stop arguing with and yelling at Killian any chance he got. Max recognized the couples' olive branch, and she really wanted to make up with them, too. She was best friends with Henry and being on bad terms with his family was simply inconvenient. David's behavior irritated her to no end, though. It didn't even make sense. This was the first time they'd met. What grievances could he possibly have with him?

"You didn't even ask me about my recovery," said Killian as he escorted them through the docks. Max rolled her eyes. She had seen him suffer way worse injuries than this (often unnecessary ones caused by his own recklessness), and every time someone had expressed concern he got offended, saying it implied that he couldn't "handle" it.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, too, but for different reasons. "How are you feeling, Hook?"

"Come closer and feel for yourself."

That comment immediately got him punched right in his wound by David. God, he was such an only child.

An outsider might have thought that Killian was stupid for not seeing that coming, but they would be wrong — he knew that David would react that way. What made him stupid was that he'd done it intentionally.

"You wanna lose the other hand?!" barked the prince. "Where's the ship?!"

Max stepped in between them. "Woah, calm down there, Prince Charming. You going all Hulk isn't gonna help anyone. And do you really let yourself get antagonized that easily? Elementary School must've been hell for you." She turned around to face Killian, who kept his eyes on David. He was really reveling in getting under his skin while keeping Max on his side. She knew this behaviour was only a coping mechanism — a way to make him feel like he still had the upper hand. Her tone was a sharp contrast to David's question when she said, "Archie told us that the Jolly Roger was sealed somehow. Could you please show it to us?"

As soon as she'd started talking, Killian had made eye contact with her, and he was now sporting a, still kind of smug, but definite familial smile on his face. Max knew it well, as it was reserved only for her. "Aye, that it is. And I will. But only because you're asking. And you deserve to come back home." He glanced up at David again, cementing to him that Max's place was with him, before turning around. "Follow me. I don't know what you expect to find. Cora won't be there."

"Well, maybe she left something behind that will tell us where she is," David said, still infuriated. Max kept herself standing in between them so he couldn't punch him again.

"No funny business," said Leroy from the back. "I'm watching you, pirate." The way he spit out the last word as if it were a curse made it hard for Max to stop herself from punching him.

Killian smirked at the threat. "Yes, dwarf, that should deter me from any malfeasance."

A matching smirk appeared on Max's face. "I don't think he understood what that meant," she said, and they exchanged chuckles.

"Ah, here it is," said Killian, stopping in front of nothing. Before anyone could call him out on it, he walked onto the invisible ramp and was quickly swallowed up by the ship's cloaking spell.

Max grinned, sprinting on after him, the others hot on her tail. While the power games Killian insisted on playing with David could certainly be annoying, she couldn't say that anything he'd said had been wrong. Boarding the Jolly Roger again certainly felt as if she'd just come back home. "Oh, she's as beautiful as ever!" she exclaimed, spinning around in circles so she could take in her every last detail. Then she walked over to the mainmast, gently stroking it like you would a horse. "Hi, girl."

"Feels good to be back, aye?" Killian asked. Max's joy had infected him — he was grinning just as big. For that moment it was like the others weren't even there.

She nodded. "Oh, more than you can imagine."

"You sailed this ship from our land..." Leroy spoke up, reminding them of their presence. "Could you sail it back?"

"My ship? She's a marvel."

"Understatement of the century," said Max, joining Killian at his side, who nodded.

"She's made from enchanted wood," Killian continued, walking up the stairs to the quarterdeck as he did so. It took him a while, his injuries making the task significantly more difficult, and Max eyed him the whole time to make sure he didn't fall. "We've weathered many a storm together, seen many strange glittering shores." They'd made it up, the rest of the group having followed as well, and as soon as Killian was out of the imitate danger of tripping and breaking his neck, Max's eyes left him and narrowed on large box. It was about chest high and was covered by a brown sheet. It was the only thing on the entire ship that was foreign to her. "But, to travel between lands, she must go through a portal."

"Yeah," David said, patience running thin, "what do you know about Cora's plans?"

"Cora's not the most communicative of lasses. But I will tell you this. Whatever malice she has in mind, her weapon of choice is in here," Killian said, patting the box Max was eyeing. Together, David and Leroy removed the sheet, revealing a wooden cage with a sleeping man inside it, wearing giants' robes.

"Who's that?" asked Mary Margaret.

Killian explained that it was the last remaining giant that he and Emma had faced off back in the Enchanted Forest, and that Cora had shrunk him using magic. "Whatever she intends to do with him, it's important."

"Oh, I think you know exactly what she intends," said David, getting up in Killian's personal space, practically oozing testosterone. Max rolled her eyes so hard that, if she'd been in class, Mary Margaret surely would've told her off about getting her eyes stuck like that one day. "You're holding out!"

"Well, either have your lovely wife torture it out of me, which I promise will be fun for both of–"

David grabbed Killian by the throat and pinned him to the mast behind him. "Why don't you and I have some fun?"

"Sorry, but you're not really my type."

"Oh, come on, boys, you're both pretty. There's no need to start squabbling. Or flirting," said Max, stepping in between them again so David was forced to let go.

Killian slowly rubbed at his neck, glaring at David. "I don't know what she's planning. Why don't you wake the bloody giant and ask him yourself?" He held out a key towards Mary Margaret, and she put her bow down and took it from him, unlocking the cage. Gently, she stroked the giant's shoulder, and he immediately jerked awake.

"It's alright. You're safe now," she said, using that insanely soothing tone of hers no one else seemed capable of. "What's your name?" she asked as she helped him step out.

"Anton," the giant answered, looking around him. "Where's that witch?"

"She's gone, don't worry."

Anton examined Mary Margaret seeming confused. Then he looked down at himself, eyes widening. "What did she do?" he wailed. "She made me small." Max couldn't help the stab of pain in her chest at the clear heartbreak in his voice.

David seemed to have a similar reaction to Max, his face softening as he said, "Come on. Let's get you out of here," grabbing the giant's shoulder from behind.

Anton turned around, and as soon as his eyes landed on David, they filled with rage. "You."

David frowned. "Me?"

"YOU!" he screamed, punching David so hard he flung into the air, making a couple spins before he landed on the main dock. Leroy ran after Anton, screaming. But he got his ass handed to him, too. The giant kicked the gun out of David's hand, and wasn't stopped until Mary Margaret shot a warning shot with her bow, missing him by just inches.

Anton looked at the arrow, then back at them. "You may have me outnumbered, but this isn't over. You think I forgot what you did? I didn't! You'll pay for your evil! I PROMISE! YOU'LL PAY!"

–––

Anton had run off after proclaiming his threat, and now they couldn't find him anywhere. It really was too bad Cora had turned him travel-sized — if he'd been giant, he would've been much easier to spot. Killian had disappeared, too. Either he was tired of being assaulted by David, or he had met up with Cora to help her with her schemes. Max prayed to God it was the former.

This meant Max was now alone with the Charmings and Leroy (who she never really liked), sitting in Granny's diner and discussing the day's events. Or more like listening in on the adults while they discussed it. Max wasn't saying much. Just resting her arms and chin against the table, thinking about how much she missed Henry.

"David..." Mary Margaret started, "did that giant say he'll 'make you pay'? For what?"

David looked as clueless as ever. "I have no idea. I've never seen that guy before."

"Well, he sure knows you," muttered Leroy.

Max frowned. "Didn't you have an evil twin brother or something?"

Realization dawned on him then. "Yes... he must think I'm James! It's the only thing that makes sense."

"How is that not the first thing you thought of? This can't be the first time this has happened."

–––

Max should've known to be careful what she wished for, because now the giant had somehow turned giant again, and while he may have been way easier to spot now, he had also started throwing cars around. She was lucky their plan was to convince Anton that David was not the person who'd done him wrong to get him to stop, and not to fight the guy. She'd never fought a giant before and she doubted her dagger would be very effective. Best she could do was give him a Spanish splinter.

David and Mary Margaret had instructed the panicked townsfolk to run to the town hall, and when the streets were cleared, David ran up to him, waving his arms around. "WAIT!"

Anton turned around, his face twisting in rage when he spotted David.

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!"

"Yeah! I do! You destroyed everything in my life! Now you're gonna know what that feels like!"

"THE MAN WHO HURT YOU, THAT WASN'T ME!" David was doing a surprisingly good job of sounding reassuring while simultaneously yelling his lungs out so that the giant could hear him. "THAT WAS MY TWIN BROTHER, JAMES! WE WERE SEPARATED AT BIRTH! HE WAS RAISED BY A– A RUTHLESS KING!"

Anton hesitated. "You're not James?"

"NO!"

"Then where is he?"

"HE PAID THE ULTIMATE PRICE FOR HIS ARROGANCE! HE'S DEAD! THERE IS NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO TO HIM!"

"WE'RE ON YOUR SIDE ANTON!" Yelled Mary Margaret as she ran up to her husband's side, Max and Leroy following her. "WE'RE GOOD! WE'RE HERE BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU KNOW OUR DAUGHTER, EMMA — YOU HAVE HER THE MAGIC COMPASS!"

"Emma? Let me talk to her. If she says you're okay, then I'll stop."

Mary Margaret exchanged worried glances with the rest of the group. "...SHE'S KIND OF OUT OF TOWN!"

"Really?" he asked, obviously not believing them. Max couldn't really blame him. "I have an evil twin brother" and "she's out of town" sounded like the two worst excuses of all time.

"BUT WHEN SHE GETS BACK I KNOW SHE'LL REALLY WANNA TALK TO YOU!"

"How convenient!"

Max tilted her head. "ACTUALLY IT'S KIND OF INCONVENIENT! 'CAUSE NOW IT LOOKS LIKE WE'RE LYING TO YOU! WHICH WE'RE NOT, BY THE WAY!" she shouted, but Anton didn't act like he'd heard.

"Everyone I'm looking for isn't around! All you humans do is lie, and cheat, and kill, and I'm sick of it!" At once he booked it towards them.

Max and the others ran as fast as they could, keeping their distance from Anton. Though, Leroy decided that this was the best time in the world to start an argument over David's name. When that was over, David got the even brighter idea of self sacrifice, turning around and facing the giant once more.

"ANTON!"

He stopped.

"HOW ABOUT WE MAKE A DEAL?"

"I don't make deals with humans!"

"HEAR ME OUT! I'LL SURRENDER MYSELF TO YOU, IF YOU SPARE THE LIVES OF EVERYONE IN STORYBROOKE!"

"David, you can't do this!" Mary Margaret ran up to him.

"If I don't, the whole town will suffer. I can't allow that," he said, before turning back to Anton. Max suddenly felt horrible for how mad she'd been at them. Because here David was, willing to sacrifice himself for the town, and Mary Margaret definitely would've done the same thing in his place. Their indiscretions really were nothing compared to their good deeds. "WELL, WHAT DO YOU SAY?"

"Deal."

He ran towards David, jumping up, and switched to one foot so that he'd squash him to bits. But Mary Margaret was faster. She jumped onto David and pulled him out of the way just in time. The sheer force of Anton's jump made him sink down waist-deep into the ground. He looked around, confused for a bit, before magic smoke appeared around him, and when it faded, he was gone.

They ran to the edge of the sinkhole to look for him. He had turned tiny again and was holding on for his life onto one of the underground pipes.

It took some time, but with the help of David's truck, some very sturdy rope, and at least a dozen other townies, they succeeded in pulling him up.

(not my gif)

heartless taglist: @clarasamelia @anonymousewrites

#once upon a time #ouat #rewrite #fanfiction #once upon a time rewrite #ouat rewrite #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #henry mills #henry mills x oc #henry mills x reader #henry mills imagine #henry mills imagines #henry mills fluff #henry mills angst #jared gilmore

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