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philtstone · 2 years

Note

Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”

soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s. this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u

Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.

Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things.

Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died.

HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT

The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947

Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.

The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.

“You threw the weapon out.”

She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.

Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”

“James.”

James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.

“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.”

Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste.

“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.

Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –

“Dugan’s coming over.”

“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.

Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow.

“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”

“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”

“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”

“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.

“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”

“I am, you mean.”

Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.

“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”

Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.

“So?”

“I’ll poke around at SSR –”

“You really do think it’s a spy –”

“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.”

“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.

Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”

“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”

“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet.

She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less.

He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill.

Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears.

“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”

The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.

“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”

“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.

“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.

“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”

Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”

“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”

“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully.

“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”

Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.

“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.

Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning.

“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters.

There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.

Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched.

Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.

“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.

She ain’t wrong.

The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?

Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box.

He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters.

“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.”

Then he narrows his eyes.

There.

Right there.

Someone has picked the lock.

The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”

Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.

Inhaling sharply, he pounces.

“Oomph!”

“Shit!”

On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.

Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.

They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack.

He really liked that knife, dammit.

“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.

“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.

Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford.

“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled.

Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.

“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”

“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.

“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”

“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,

“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.

“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.

He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too?

It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.

And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.

“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.”

But alas, there’s no kidding to be had.

“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”

Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence?

And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.

“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.

Then it is back to its customary scowl.

“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar.

But Sam is still annoyed.

“Through the window?”

“There’s – a stairwell.”

“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”

“For the love of God –”

“I am just listing my options, here.”

“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”

“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”

“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.

“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.

Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.

“Fuck!”

Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans.

“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.

“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”

“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”

“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.

Bang.

“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.

Bang.

“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.

Bang.

“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”

Bang.

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!”

Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.

They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.

Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react.

And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.

Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.

“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.

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wulfhalls · 3 years

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why do you hate the spanish princess? iwanted to start watching it...

margaret beaufort defense squad we ride at dawn

#twq was like good... partially... sometimes right? like it was annoying at worst #twp.... that shit made u angry #tsp tho........ just shut of ur brain like just dont engage a single brain cell and ull be fine #pregnant koa ridding into battle broke something fundamental in my brain #asks #also why cant they write female characters like at all???? did they have to make eoy a crazy bitch??? was it truly necessary #and DO NOT get me started on margaret

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phcking-detective · 2 years

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1-49 for the ask meme. I'm tryna Speedrun some Arthur content

Do you have freckles?

Some! not really on my face, but definitely on my arms and shoulders

Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?

I take my tea and coffee how I take dick (and sex in general): No. I'm allergic 🥰

What was the last song you listened to?

Crazy on You by Heart, I have a playlist that's called "Songs That Feel Electric Blue" and has 80s pop/rock, 00s pop that has the same vibe, the Weeknd, and remixed sea shanties :)

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side?

Side! I can sleep a little on my back and not on my stomach at all

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

No, I need complete silence, darkness, a steady temperature, and nothing else touching me to sleep. No pillows, no partners, no stuffed animals

Do you prefer drawing or writing?

Writing!

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with?

A regular sheet, a knitted blanket, and then on top of that I have a lightweight throw OR a slightly heavier fuzzy throw blanket, and I alternate between which of the two is my Third based on temp

What’s your favorite band/artist?

Apashe; favorite individual artist: Alec Benjamin

Next favorites: Valentino Khan, MISSIO, Glass Animals, Billie Eilish, and grandson; I almost always like Lorde, Bishop Briggs, Florence + the Machine, Two Feet, Imagine Dragons, K. Flay, and Dua Lipa

When is your birthday?

April 4th yeah I'm an Aries, fuck you read my horoscope first 😎

How tall are you?

5' 3" mayyybe 5'4"? got boots and sneakers with 3" lifts tho

What color are your eyes?

Grey-green, honestly more on the grey side

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now?

my friends! Elaina, Giq, Ruby, Marn, and Ameera <3

Fears?

water, what lives IN the water, that I'm the evil twin, being completely Alone after my mom dies, that I'll never pass as male

What’s your favorite color?

Red has canonically always been my favorite, but I'm trying to branch out more into pink and blue lol

What’s your favorite season?

Spring

Want any tattoos? What of?

yeah, I need to get a small tattoo of a heart on the inside of my right ankle to honor a promise made to my sister

Want any piercings? Where?

ehhh no not really

and this is where I'd put my dick piercing--IF I HAD ONE!!

Who is the last person you texted?

my mom, always, I don't even need to look that one up lol

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends?

uhh my online friends totally count for this right? all of u *kisseys*

What/who do you miss?

my sister (died), previous best friend (stole my money and married a cis man with my exact same name)

How was your day today?

I worked out for half an hour and was an Exhausted Lump for another two hours after that, but I'm about to have pizza delivered so the day has recovered nicely

How much sleep did you get last night?

I need 12 hours of sleep to feel even slightly OK and that is not an exaggeration

Do you believe in aliens?

do I believe? no. maybe. do I fucking hope so?? Yes.

When was the last time you cried? Why?

oh here's a really neat trick! instead of getting upset and crying about your own life, which makes you sad and accomplishes nothing, simply project your trauma onto fictional characters, deliberately read fics about this trauma that will trigger an intense emotional reaction, imagine fictional characters providing Comfort Character with love and support actually, and speedrun therapy within the comfort and safety of your own home!

What’s your favorite decade?

none of them, I'm still holding out for literally ANY DECADE AT ALL that doesn't suck and in which I have actual rights, thanks

What are some seemingly childish things you like?

overly long sleeves, blanket forts, uhh can't really think of much else

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times?

gonna recommend these: All Systems Red by Martha Wells, Hunger Makes the Wolf by Alex Wells, The Merciful Crow by Margaret Owen

How are you, really?

yeah, thanks for asking!!

Does it take you a long time to make decisions?

I make Broad Decisions fairly quickly, ie: Yes I want to do [x]. I then spend two weeks researching every possible facet and detail of [x]

What are you looking forward to in the near future?

the fucking pizza getting here I am so fucking hungry oh my god

What are you looking forward to in the distant future?

probably have top surgery next year; giving myself a year to save up sick leave and not stress about hospitals and bills again after having a hysterectomy just a few months ago

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?

Rome. I've been twice and I love it so, so much!

Do you sleep with your door open or closed?

closed, nani the fuck??

What’s your favorite flower?

sunflowers! they remove radiation, they're a beautiful yellow, and my sister loved yellow flowers

Do you currently have a squish?

pretty much all of my coworkers at the library. I wish we hung out more outside of work or even just texted / talking

Do you like your middle name?

haha yeah I just got a name change to make it what I want

Do you prefer dogs or cats?

dogs, but only because of how much I love Chow Chows, which are basically the cats of dogs

Do you have any phobias?

cotton balls. HATE them

Do you stay up late?

I try to go to bed at 10, usually succeed at 11. I consider anything past that to be "late" and past 1 am to be Horrible

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy?

yes, I love the beach but only if I can go swimming in the ocean! it needs to be warm

cloudy, actually. despite the above, I sunburn like a miserable little caucasian-to-lobster :(

What’s your favorite cartoon?

tom & jerry

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

literally just my friends, yall know who you are

Do you have siblings? How many?

one, she died about four years ago

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to?

my mom

Is there anyone you would die for?

my mom

What do you need when you’re sad?

my mom

also, bread. and money.

Have you memorized your phone number?

as opposed to what??

Who’s someone you can trust with your life?

my mom!!

What does your last text say?

"Hi, I love you! Enjoy your supper <3" from my mom

#can you tell where I ran out of steam? lol #ask #answered #elaina-writes-things #long post

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blairsanne · 2 years

Text

In the Cards (12)

Big Wolf on Campus fanfic. Merton x OC. [Tommy also gets some pairings.]

Chapter Summary: Tommy can't de-wolf due to an illness, so Kalida and Merton skip school to care for him. Merton and Kalida later go on a date and when Kali gets home, she gets stern talking to from Uncle Bob.

Chapter 12: Truant

Merton sat at his desk, doing a final readover of his biology report.

Finding no errors, he pressed Print and flipped back over to MSN. To his disappointment, neither Tommy nor Kalida were online. A chat window popped up.

Margaret of Mertonia: hi Merton! ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: Hey. ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: How's your night going? Margaret of Mertonia: great! just watched that movie u recommended :3 ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: Did you like it? Margaret of Mertonia: yeah but vampires are still cooler than werewolves ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on that one. Margaret of Mertonia: I dont get why u like them so much Margaret of Mertonia: they just get furry and go crazy Margaret of Mertonia: vampires live forever and are super strong and misunderstood ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: I think you have a romantic view of vampires. Margaret of Mertonia: thats the great thing abt monsters tho is they can be whatever u want ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: I guess I want werewolves to be good :P Margaret of Mertonia: but good werewolves are so goofy ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: Maybe. Maybe I like goofy. ;) Margaret of Mertonia: haha that sounds like u ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: Are you saying I'm goofy? ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: I'm wounded. Margaret of Mertonia: i didnt mean it in a bad way tho ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: Sure you didn't. Whatever you say. ;)

Merton was pulled out of the conversation by a knock at his back door.

ʍ€яţ๏ɲ [Boo back.]: brb

He opened the door and grinned widely, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

"Hey Kalida. What brings you over?" She fidgeted. "I wanted to run something by you… You can say no." He let out a small laugh. "Alright. Come on in." He moved back to motion her inside. "Can I offer you anything? A chilled Yoohoo?"

She shrugged. "I'm okay. We just had dinner." She wandered over to his couch and hesitated. "Can I sit?" "Of course." He climbed over the back of the couch and sat to face her. He could read the nerves in her body language, but he was just happy to see her. "You're welcome here whenever, you know." She smiled softly and looked away, tucking hair behind her ear. "Okay, cool."

"So, what's up?" "I've um… I've had some time to think about what happened with Mark." "Oh." His face fell into a concerned expression. "How are you doing?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I'm okay. It was a weird experience." "Yeah, you've, uh, been through a few of those lately." She let out a hollow laugh. "Weirdly enough, I think the other timeline was worse than Mark."

"Wait, really?" Merton scrunched his face in confusion. "Yeah, I… I can't stop thinking about it. About how you got hurt." "But I didn't." He forced a smile. "I'm fine." "I know, but… You did. You died." She moved her trembling hand to her lap. "I was right there, and I couldn't do anything."

"Kalida…" Merton leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know what it was like for you, but… It's okay now. I'm alright." She looked up at him as he rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "I'm right here with you." She forced a smile, not wanting him to worry about her. "Yeah. You're right."

He tilted his head. "Are you okay?" She made an uncomfortable noise, looking away. "I'm fine. I just… What happened then, and what happened with Mark…. They were both bad, but they're just two totally different things."

He pulled his hand back, giving her space. "I know. I just thought… What he did to you… It's kind of like an invasion of privacy, or like a possession, I guess." "I think it was more like being drunk or something than being possessed. Plus, it was just-" she stopped herself, blushing as she looked away. "I mean, since it was with you, it wasn't so… Um… Like, bad…"

Merton raised his eyebrows. "Oh, uh… good…" He swallowed and picked at the chipping nail polish on his thumb. "Th-thanks, by the way. For… noticing it was weird, I guess, or not taking advantage-" "I don't think that's something you should thank me for." Merton interrupted. "If you care about someone, it should be natural to notice when they're not being themselves, or not to… Um…" He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase his sentiment. "You know, it wouldn't be right, in that situation, to do something…"

She pulled her knees up against her chest. "Have you ever? I mean, gone all the way, with… anyone?" Merton cleared his throat, the awkwardness thick between them as they both avoided eye contact. I can't really lie about this. "I, uh. No, I have not." She nodded to herself. I feel like I shouldn't be so relieved…

"Have… you… ever?" "N-no. Not yet. I mean," She glanced his way and their eyes locked. "I'd like to." Merton stared back at her, mind going blank. "Eventually," she added. She broke eye contact and stared at his coffee table. "Right." He rubbed his hands on his pants. "I would also like to, eventually…" A tense silence fell between them.

Finally, Kalida took a deep breath. "Anyway, I came here because I was thinking about how a couple times, now, I've been in the camper and there's been a monster…" Merton shook his head slightly, trying to be normal. "Right…?" "Um, so, I was thinking, you know, maybe it would be good to have some weapons in there. Just in case something came up again-" "Oh, that's a great idea!"

She looked over at him, forcing a smile. "Only I don't have any, so…" He raised a brow, smirking slightly. "So you want to borrow some of mine?" "Yeah." She gestured, then started rambling. "But only if it's okay with you, because I don't want to mooch. Or if it's easier, you could help me get some of my own-"

"Kali, it's fine." He held his hands up. "It's smart to have a stash in Betsy. Then if something comes up, we don't necessarily have to head back to the Lair." "Okay." She tucked her hair behind her ear again. "If you're sure." "Yeah, it's no problem." He got up and walked over to a cabinet on his wall. He opened the door to reveal several axes and swords, and a variety of other weapons. "What do you think would be handy in there?"

She got up and made her way over. It was a different assortment than he'd had in the other reality; none of these were purely decorative. "I guess just something you don't need a lot of training in to use effectively?"

He rubbed his chin, studying the arsenal. "Hmm…" "Or maybe one I can't hurt myself with?" "Technically any weapon is dangerous." He pulled a rapier from its hook, then an axe and a crossbow. He turned to her with soft concern. "Promise to be careful if you use them." "I'll try not to break them, I promise." "No, I mean, don't hurt yourself. We're not… professionals." He gave a crooked smile. "Also, technically not all of these are legal to just have hanging around." She put her hand over his. "I promise."

---

Merton stood beside the camper while Kalida stashed the weapons inside.

When she came back out, she stood in front of him with her hands behind her back. "Thanks again." "No problem. I'm just glad I could be useful to you." She laughed. "What does that mean?" He shrugged. "You know, just... that it's nice to feel needed."

Her voice was a little too earnest when she replied. "I need you." He made a small noise, tongue-tied again at her choice of wording. "I-I mean, you're…" She blushed and looked to the side. "You're one of my best friends, and in the trio you're like the brain-"

"Actually, that reminds me." Kalida looked over at him, sucking in a breath. Merton licked his lips and pushed his hands into his back pockets. "I wanted to ask you- Since we haven't really- That is-" He cleared his throat. "Could I take you to dinner sometime?"

"Like a date?" He winced. "Yeeeeeah…?" Kalida broke out into a broad smile. "Of course." Merton lit up, grinning. "Great." "Great." They stared at each other, both unsure what to say. In unison, they broke the tension with an awkward laugh.

Kalida motioned to the driver side door. "I should probably get home. I have to finish my lab report for chem." "Right, school night." Merton gestured. "Don't want to keep you too late." "Right." She shifted her weight to her other foot. "Would it be weird to kiss you now?"

"Well, weird is relative. Technically we've already done more before so-" Merton was interrupted by her sudden kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed back. He leaned down slightly to make it easier for her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

When she broke the kiss, she gazed up at him. "Goodnight Merton." "Night Kali." He smiled down at her sweetly. She slowly backed away and climbed up into the camper.

He stood in the alley and watched as she drove off. When she was out of sight he let out a squeal, pumping his fist as he walked back inside.

---

When Kalida got home, she headed straight to her room with every intention to finish her homework. Sitting at the desk in her room, she pulled her textbook and lab notes out and looked them over. She found herself tapping her pencil against the pages and wiggling her feet, unable to focus.

I'll just make some tea. Then I'll be able to concentrate better.

She made her way down to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. She stood at the counter, staring at the tea bag in her mug as she waited for the water to boil, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept thinking about how Merton had finally asked her out again.

I wonder where we'll go? And when? Is he a fancy restaurant kind of guy? Or maybe a packed meal up at the lookout…

Tommy entered the kitchen and pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge. He couldn't help but notice Kalida's far-off look. She was chewing her lip and smiling to herself, tapping her socked foot erratically against the kitchen tile.

"What's got you so excited?"

"Hm?" She started, glancing over at Tommy as though she'd been caught doing something. She forced a laugh, playing it off. "W-what do you mean? I'm just waiting for the water." Tommy raised a brow, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Uh-huh…" He poured the milk into a tall glass. "Must be some good tea you're making."

She let out a small snort. "Can't I just be in a good mood?" "Sure, sure." He put the milk away. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with a certain pale loner you snuck off to visit after dinner." She gawked. "Did you talk to him or something?" Tommy tapped his nose and winked. "Wolf life." She rolled her eyes. "Well that's an invasion of privacy." He laughed, then chugged the glass of milk.

The kettle clicked off and she poured the hot water into her mug. "So what happened?" Kalida glanced at Tommy, then back at her tea. She moved the tea bag around in a circle to stir the water. "I borrowed some weapons from him." He raised a brow, not convinced. "That's it?" She tried to hide her grin. "And he asked me out to dinner."

He chuckled. "So you two are finally gonna have your first real date." He wagged his eyebrows at her. "Nice." She turned to face him. "It's not weird? I mean, I'm not saying you get a vote-" "As long as you can keep your hands off each other when we're all hanging out, I'm all for it." "Yeah?" She blew on her drink. He shrugged. "It's nice to see you guys so happy."

She thought back to the other reality, where Tommy had been with that Stacey girl. "How about you? Are you looking for a steady girlfriend?"

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, but thought about it seriously. "It would be nice. But the chances of me being able to get close enough with someone, to let them know... y'know…" He gestured wolf ears. "It's just not something I can do right now."

Her shoulders slumped slightly. "I think you'll find someone eventually, though." Tommy shrugged. "It's not a big deal." "But still. I'm sure the right person is out there." Tommy forced a light-hearted smile. "I guess we'll see."

---

The night air was cold and wet.

Kalida railed against Tommy's chest, struggling in an attempt to break free.

"We have to go." "Let go of me!" She screamed in his ear as he lifted her over his shoulder, pounding his back with balled fists. He adjusted his grip, the rifle in his hands pressing against her legs as he struggled to keep her in his grip.

"MERTON!" She stared at the lifeless body fading into the distance on the road behind them. The dark hid his features, creeping in around her until it consumed everything.

---

Kalida woke with a start, clutching her chest as she grounded herself back into reality.

It didn't happen, it's not real.

She'd had a similar dream every night or so since being in the other reality. Sometimes she was fighting the monster. Sometimes Tommy was carrying her away. The outcome was always the same, though; Merton's body lying lifeless on the road.

She wiped the cold sweat from her brow and checked the time.

Three minutes before the alarm.

She clicked it off and got up, dragging herself into the bathroom to take a shower.

---

When she was finally ready to head downstairs to eat breakfast, she realized that Tommy's bedroom door was still closed.

Did he sleep in? She knocked gently. "Tommy?"

She heard a loud groan. "Kali, come in here."

She opened the door slowly, feeling awkward. "You sound like cr-whoa." She shut the door behind her quickly, speaking in a shouted whisper. "You're wolfed out!"

Tommy was staring groggily up at her from his bed, shirt soaked in sweat. His blanket had been kicked to the floor. The fur on his face was matted and messy, and his skin was discolored.

She knelt by the edge of the bed. "Are you okay? You look ill." "I feel so gross, Kal…" he whined. "I can't go to school like this." "Okay, fair. But you need to," she gestured at the top of her head. "Put the ears away? What if your parents come home and see you? Or Dean?" "Dean's not gonna come in here…" He rolled onto his side, wincing. "I can't go back to normal." "What do you mean you can't?" He pouted up at her. "I have to relax, and I can't relax… Merton knows…"

She nodded, patting his shoulder. "Okay. I'll call Merton. You just try to rest for a bit, okay?"

---

Kalida tapped her foot impatiently as the line buzzed. "Hello?" A young female voice answered. "Hi. Becky? It's Kalida Dawkins." "Oh. Um. Hi." "Hey. Is Merton still there?" "Lemme check." There was a scraping sound as Becky put the mouthpiece against her hand before yelling, "FREAKER! PHONE!"

She heard another line pick up, and a male voice answered. "Hello?" "Merton! Hey. It's Kali." "Oh, hey." She could hear the smile in his voice. "One sec." His voice was muffled. "HANG UP THE PHONE, BECKY!" Kalida heard the other line click off.

"Sorry about that. To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with you this fine morning?" "It's Tommy. He's sick, can't get out of bed." "Did you try calling Sally?" "I can't. He's," she lowered her voice. "Wolfed out."

"Oh!" Merton made a humming sound. "Okay, I'll be right over. Call the school and say you're both sick - but pretend to be Sally, they won't let you out if you call in as yourself. I've tried." She tried not to laugh. "Okay, will do." "See you in a few." "Thanks." "Of course."

---

Kalida led Merton up the stairs. "Has he ever been sick like this? Since he got bit I mean?" "Not that I know of." She knocked on Tommy's door. "Can we come in?" "Yeah," he groaned.

She opened the door and led Merton in, closing it behind them despite only Dean being home.

Merton sat on the edge of Tommy's bed and gave him a pitying look. "Aww. Is Tommy not feeling good?" he felt Tommy's forehead with the back of his hand and frowned.

"Don't make me bite you," Tommy grumbled. "Been there, done that." He opened his coffin bag up and pulled out a thermometer. "Say ahh." Tommy grimaced. "Is that thing clean?" Merton put a hand over his heart and closed his eyes. "Thoroughly sanitized, and never used rectally." Tommy gave him a dubious look but relented. Holding the thermometer beneath his tongue, he layed back on his pillow.

Merton looked over at Kalida. "Could you go get a cool, damp cloth? I think we'll need to get his temperature down." "Sure. Just a sec." She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Merton took the thermometer out of Tommy's mouth when it beeped. "Like I thought. A mild fever." He pulled two pill bottles out of his bag. "Have you taken anything yet?" "No. I didn't want to get up."

Kalida came back with a bowl of ice water and a damp cloth. "Here." She set them down on the nightstand and gave Tommy a concerned look. "Fever?" His eyes barely focused on her. "Yeah."

Merton took the cloth and carefully placed it on his forehead. "Nothing too concerning. Just gotta get you to de-wolf before your parents get home. I'm sure you'll be back to yourself in no time." He looked over at Kalida. "Sorry to make you the errand girl, but do you think you could get something for him to take some pills with? A drink and a little snack?"

"Oh," she nodded. "Easy. Be right back."

---

Kalida spread peanut butter in a thick layer over the soft white bread.

Dean called from the living room. "Kali, you making snacks?" "Uhh, not really. Just grabbing something for Tommy." "You guys have a Pro-D Day?" "Uhh, something like that, yeah…" She grimaced, feeling bad for lying to her cousin. It would be bad if he called Sally or Bob home, though.

"I'm gonna take a little nappy-poo. Lemme know when you're making lunch!" "You got it, Dean!"

---

"I'm not hungry." Tommy pushed Merton's face away with his paw.

Merton shook his head, snorting. "You can't just take ibuprofen on an empty stomach, though. Besides, it's peanut butter. You love peanut butter."

Tommy grumbled. "Please, Tommy, we just want you to get better," Kalida made puppy eyes at him. He sighed and begrudgingly took the sandwich from Merton. He ate it slowly, making faces with every bite. Halfway through, he abandoned it on the night stand.

"Y'know, Tommy," Merton snarked. "We both skipped school to take care of you, and you're being real baby about it." "Oh no, I ruined your perfect attendance." Tommy rolled his eyes. Merton raised a brow. "It might not matter to you, but some of us actually care about our grades."

Tommy glanced over at Kalida, then back at Merton. "Good thing you two nerds are smart enough to catch up." Merton held his finger up. "For the last time, Tommy. I am not a nerd, I am a goth." "And I'm a werewolf who can't even be sick at home without worrying about being found out."

Kalida hovered near the bed, wringing her hands. She turned her attention to Merton. "Is he going to be okay? Get de-wolfed before they get back?"

Merton nodded, looking unconcerned. "I'm sure once the muscle pain subsides, he'll be able to relax enough to de-wolf." He refreshed the towel on Tommy's head. "You just gotta calm down, okay, Tommy? Remember those haikus we practice."

Tommy closed his eyes. "The wind feels so nice…" he mumbled. Merton rolled his eyes. "Close enough." "I have some relaxing music on my ipod," Kalida suggested. "That might help. They say music soothes the savage beast."

Kali winced. "That's a misquotation, actually. The line from The Mourning Bride is actually 'Music has charms to soothe a savage breast.'" "Oh. Really? Why didn't I know that?" Merton frowned, then shook his head. "But regardless, music does help calm him down, so it's worth a shot."

---

Kalida rubbed her arm as Merton shut Tommy's door behind him. She whispered to him, "Is it really okay that he hasn't de-wolfed?"

Merton flashed her a reassuring crooked smile. "I'm sure after he finishes his nap, he'll feel a lot better. The fever wasn't that bad." She nodded at her room. "Let's go in here so we don't wake him." "S-sure."

Merton followed her and sat on the edge of her mattress. Her room smelled sweet in comparison to Tommy's, maybe a bit floral. He rubbed his palms on his lap as he looked around. Small desk with a computer and pile of homework. Vanity with makeup, hair stuff, jewellery. Dresser, closed closet doors.

She sat down next to him, then flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. "I feel so nervous." "Tell me about it…" Merton mumbled. You're in the-girl-you-like's bedroom. On the bed with her. Sure, she'd been in his room several times, even in and on his bed, but never while he was on the bed with her. And not since that conversation about going all the way.

"Could you imagine if Sally saw him like that?" She whistled. "What would he do without us, eh?"

Merton snorted. Of course she was thinking about Tommy. He glanced over at her. "I guess he's lucky to have us."

She let out a small laugh, visibly relaxing. "Yeah. Doctor Dingle to the rescue." She grinned at him. "You knew just what to do, like it was obvious." Merton shrugged. "I had to babysit Becky a few times when she was sick. It's not a big deal."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "It must be nice to have siblings." Merton scoffed. "Nice? She's lucky I don't wring her little-" He made a gesture for strangling. Kalida stifled a laugh. "Yeah, I can tell you guys really love each other, though."

Merton's face softened. "Well, she's still my baby sister, even if she is hellspawn." "What does that make you?" He gawked, holding a hand to his chest. "Did I just go from Doctor to Hellspawn?" She laughed. "Just curious what the family tree looked like." He flopped down on his stomach beside her. "I have a detailed record in the Lair if you ever need to see it." "Mmm, sounds thrilling."

The two shared a tense gaze as the reality of them lying on her bed set in between them.

Merton licked his lips. He saw her eyes flit between his own and his lips. He scooched over, propping himself up beside her, then leaned in to kiss her tentatively.

She shifted slightly beneath him, moving closer. She couldn't help but think back to the night in the lair when she'd been under the effects of Lilin energy. In comparison, these kisses were overly cautious.

Merton was careful not to touch her as he hovered barely-over her on the firm mattress. He shivered when she put a hand on the base of his skull, pulling him down with her as she laid back. Holding himself over her now, his hands on either side of her head, he pulled back to catch his breath. He didn't know what she was expecting, but barring their previous tryst - thank you, Markus - this was the most he'd done with a girl.

She bit her lip while he stared down at her. Was she being too forward? Maybe he didn't want to get all worked up while his friend was in the other room?

She leaned up and rubbed her nose against his affectionately, closing her eyes. He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers in reply, more at ease. He kissed her more forcefully, letting himself enjoy the burning desire it caused inside him. Her fingers rested on his chest, pulling gently on his shirt as they continued to make out.

Suddenly she pushed him away, looking over at the open door of her bedroom. "Did you hear that?"

Merton sat up and listened. They both heard the front door close.

"Crap," she whispered. "One of them came home." She scrambled off the bed and closed her bedroom door. She checked the time. 12:15. Merton stood awkwardly beside her bed, and whispered back. "What if they come in here?"

"Why would they come in here?" But she heard the familiar squeak of the bottom steps. She pulled Merton toward the closet with her and shut the door.

Alone in the dark, cramped space, Merton wrapped his arms around her. Leaning against his chest, she could hear his heart pounding. Or maybe it was hers.

"Hello? Is someone up here?" Sally's voice called out at the end of the hall.

"Do you think she heard us?" Kalida whispered. Merton whispered back. "Maybe. Do you think Tommy's back to normal yet?"

Sally's slow steps made the hallway floor creak. Kalida imagined Sally opening the door to Tommy's room, only to find a werewolf in his bed. Would she accept that her son was a monster? She'd freak out. I need to distract her.

"I have an idea. Stay hidden."

Before Merton could reply, Kalida left the closet and grabbed her homework off her desk. She rushed out into the hallway, eliciting a yelp from Sally.

"Kalida! You scared me half to death!" "Oh. Hey Aunt Sally. Sorry." She winced and stood between her aunt and Tommy's door. "What are you doing home in the middle of the day?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a self-deprecating smile. "I was working on Chem last night and ended up leaving my books in my room by accident. Just stopped by on lunch period to grab them." She held her notebook and textbook up as proof.

Sally let out a small sigh. "I heard someone moving about up here and I thought we were getting broken into." Kalida forced a laugh. "Luckily, no." She followed Sally down the hall and to the main floor. "I didn't know you came home for lunch."

"I don't normally, but I've got an interview out at the farm this afternoon, so I came back for rain boots." She rolled her eyes and slipped her boots on.

Kalida sat on the bench and tied on a pair of cheap black Chuck Taylor knockoffs. "Well, have fun with that. I should jet, gotta get back before class starts."

Sally followed her out, locking the front door. "Kalida, dear, wait." Kali hesitated, halfway down the stoop. "What is it?" Sally put her hands on Kalida's shoulders. "I just wanted to say, you're really doing great. With school, and even being a good friend to Tommy. It doesn't go unnoticed." "Aww, Aunt Sally…" she looked away, feeling a twinge of guilt. Afterall, she was skipping school, lying, and hiding a boy in her room.

---

Merton stood in the dark closet by himself until he heard the front door locking. He let out a held breath, then pushed open the door.

I wonder how long she'll be gone for? They hadn't exactly talked over her plan before he was left alone in her bedroom. He looked around. He didn't want to wake up Tommy, but at the same time, he didn't want to be caught in Kalida's room by Tommy's parents. He quietly closed her bedroom door, then sat down at her desk. He pushed the power button on her monitor.

It blinked on to reveal a screensaver of rotating photos. Kalida and her Canadian friends. Kalida's parents. Some children Merton didn't recognize. Merton and Tommy making faces.

Merton smiled softly and shook the mouse. A password prompt blinked onto the screen.

What would her password be? He tried his own. "That would be too easy."

KalidaDownSouth. No. GranvilleGang. No. FutureMrsDingle. No. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

He sighed, thinking back on when her friends had come to visit. NerdClubRepresent. The password screen cleared to reveal a cluttered desktop. Her background was a collage of Spuffy screen captures. He let out a small laugh. "She really is a nerd."

He clicked open a folder titled "Pictures". Inside were over a dozen other folders - some were dated, some were names of tv shows and movies. She had an entire folder of pictures of Harry Potter fanart. Most of them were of people at various events that he didn't recognize; friends, family.

He closed that folder and scanned the other folders on her desktop. Fanfics. Music. Road Trip.

He opened the Road Trip folder. The folder was mainly a jumble of images of different quality of landmarks. He double-clicked the Word document at the top titled Route Plan.

It was a detailed route - complete with screen-captured map images, tourist attractions, campsites, gas station locations, Walmart locations, everything - from Pleasantville all the way up to British Columbia.

He thought back to her conversation with him about running away in her camper. He hadn't taken it too seriously at the time, but now he felt a twist of concern. He opened a browser window and quickly emailed himself a copy. Just in case.

---

In an attempt to be convincing, Kalida had driven in the direction of the school. However, along the way, she'd gotten lost in the routine and ended up driving all the way there.

Technically I could go to class… That's what I'm supposed to be doing today.

She sat in the parking lot a moment mulling it over, but concluded it would be best to return to the house. She had left Merton there, after all, and she had no idea if Tommy was back to normal. Plus technically I called us in sick.

Remembering her conversation with Dean, she decided to make a quick stop at the Hungry Bucket on the way home.

---

Merton took the thermometer out of Tommy's mouth and smiled at the results. "I knew a rest would help."

Tommy sat up, de-wolfed and looking healthier. He motioned to his dresser. "Hey Merton, can you pass me a clean shirt? Top drawer." "Sure thing." He dug around in Tommy's dresser and pulled out an orange t-shirt. "This okay?" "Yeah, whatever's fine." He caught the shirt when Merton lobbed it - with vague accuracy - then pulled his sweat-soaked one off and tossed it back.

Merton grimaced and held the damp thing gingerly and carefully placed it in Tommy's hamper. "Thanks for that." Tommy laughed. "You think that's bad, stay away from the locker room after practice." Merton wheezed. "Right, like I'd go to the jock den when they're all hopped up and aggressive. Likely." Tommy frowned. "They're not that bad. Most of the guys are good people."

He perched himself on the footboard facing Tommy, his feet on the mattress. "I realize you forget this, Tom, but I don't exactly fit in with your friends." Tommy shrugged. "They're just my teammates. You and Kal are my real friends."

"Your pack?" Merton grinned. Tommy sighed. "She told you I said that?" He laughed. "I think it's cute." He rolled his eyes. "Cute, great."

"Hey, speaking of Kali…" "She already told me you asked her out." "No." He held his hands out. "I mean. Yes. I did. But that wasn't what I was going to say." Tommy raised a brow.

"You know, before… How she said something about taking off in her camper?" Tommy nodded thinking back. "Something about living in Walmart parking lots?" "Right. Well, when I was on her computer, I saw that she'd made up an actual route plan all the way up to Canada."

Tommy shrugged. "Could be old. Or maybe she's planning on driving up in the summer or something." "I-is she moving back to Canada when she graduates?" Tommy frowned. "I dunno. We never talk about that." The two shared a long look.

"Is it selfish to want her to stay?" Merton asked. Tommy ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "She's gonna do what she wants anyway. You know Kali." "One time, a while back, we talked about going to school in Europe." "Europe?" "They have that occult school in Germany. I could probably get in."

Tommy rubbed his arm. "Why don't you just ask Kali what she's planning?" "And say what, I was snooping on your computer?" "Were you?" "M-maybe a little." He gave a wincing grin. "Kinda maybe guessed her password and took a look when she wasn't there." "Yeah, maybe don't tell her you did that." Tommy gave Merton an unimpressed look. "Might not go over well." "Heh."

---

When Kalida pulled back up to the house, she prayed that Bob and Sally came home at their usual times, and didn't think much of seeing Betsy in the driveway.

She entered the living room and held a bag up to Dean. "Lunch delivery." "Is that the rapturous smell of fried chicken?" Dean was overcome with emotion. "You b-beautiful creature. Thank you." "Technically Sally asked me not to bring you these anymore, so keep it on the down-low, cuz." Kalida winked. "Oh-ho, not a problem." "Kay. I'll be upstairs. Enjoy." Dean dug into the bag excitedly as she left the room.

Once upstairs, she entered her room and looked around with confusion. "Merton?" Tommy's door opened and Merton stood in the doorway, smiling over at her. "The baby calmed down."

She laughed and joined him across the hall. She was relieved to see that Tommy had de-wolfed and was sitting up in bed, propped against pillows.

"I brought lunch. Tommy let out a pleased groan as he took a box of fried chicken from her. "You are a good person." "You Dawkins boys should be the mascots for the Bucket," she laughed. "But I'm glad you got your appetite back."

Merton nodded. "I took his temperature. His fever is gone. Should be back to normal tomorrow." "Then we can all go to school." She sat on the corner of his bed and pulled out a nugget box for Merton. Merton smirked as he took it from her. "Yes, your favourite." She rolled her eyes. "Nerrrrrd." Tommy whispered, then filled his mouth with chicken and avoided eye contact.

She tilted her head and gawked at him. "I have gone to a lot of trouble for you today, y'know. I lied to the school, I missed all my classes, I lied to your mom, I bought us all lunch-"

"I love you, Kali…" Tommy made puppy eyes at her as he continued to eat. "That's better." She took a chicken wrap out of the bag for herself.

Merton settled on the floor in a cross-legged position and started eating. He tried to sound casual, but avoided eye contact. "Assuming our wolf crisis has been averted, would you want to go out tonight, Kal?" "Oh, um, yeah, tonight would work fine." Tommy noted the rosiness in both of their cheeks. "Aww, I'm being ditched?" he teased. Kalida threw a french fry at him, but he just caught it and ate it, winking at her.

"Well I don't really want to share Merton with you," she shrugged. "Why not?" Tommy whined. "I saw him first." "Pretty sure I kissed him first though, so…" "Are you, though?" Tommy smirked and leaned toward her. "I've spent the night more than you have." Kalida narrowed her eyes and looked between them both. "That is true…" Tommy snorted. Merton grinned, tilting his head. "I feel so loved."

---

They spent the next few hours chatting and playing cards on Tommy's bed.

Around the time that school would have ended, Merton slid off the mattress and stretched. "I should probably head home." "Already?" Kalida pouted. "Bob and Sally won't be home for another hour or so." "I figured this would give us time to get ready for tonight." He grabbed his bag from the floor.

Tommy rubbed his hands together raising a brow. "Oh, so it's the kind of date you have to get ready for." Kalida instinctively smacked at him, her focus still on Merton. "Oh, okay. What's the dress code?" Merton scrunched his face and tilted his head to the side as he thought. "Nicer than school, but not formal?" Kalida mimed a gun with her fingers and made a clicking sound. "Got it." She slid off the bed herself. "I'll show you out."

Tommy nodded up at Merton. "Merton. Thanks for coming over today." Merton grinned widely, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Ah, it's not big deal." "Nah, man, you did me a solid. I appreciate it." He held a fist out. Merton met Tommy's fist with his own, and then they both mimed an explosion, eliciting a giggle from Merton.

Kalida followed him out into the hallway and down the carpeted stairs. She stood beside the door as he pulled his shoes back on. Merton cleared his throat as he tied his laces. "So, can I pick you up at like five?" "Yeah." She licked her lips. "Sounds great." "Great." He stood and hesitated in front of her. "Then, I guess I'll see you then." She nodded, smiling. "See you soon."

He turned and opened the front door, skipping down the steps. "Merton, wait!" She leaned over the rail of the porch. "Thanks again for coming today. I didn't know what to do." Merton shrugged, smiling up at her from the driveway. "Happy to help." She waved him off. "See you later!"

---

Kalida dabbed clear gloss over her lips, then checked herself in the mirror. She'd chosen a long-sleeved, casual maroon cocktail dress and paired it with black tights and ankle boots. Her long brown hair was slightly curled, and her makeup was smokier than usual.

That's not overdoing it, right? She examined her face, sneering at the bumps of skin where she was starting to break out. "Cause I totally wanted zits on a first date."

When the doorbell rang, she grabbed her purse from the floor and rushed down the hall. When she got down the stairs, she saw Tommy and Merton talking in hushed tones in the foyer with smiles on their faces.

Merton got distracted by the sight of Kalida at the foot of the stairs. His skin thrummed with excitement as she walked over. She looks like that to go out with me.

Tommy glanced between the two, immediately the third wheel. "Well, have fun guys." He winked at Kalida. "Try not to stay out too late." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Make sure to study before bed." He smacked her with his elbow on the way past, then waved his hand over his shoulder at Merton. "See ya!" With that, he was halfway up the stairs.

Merton cleared his throat. "Shall we?" Kalida nodded. "Let's."

---

Kalida looked out the window of the hearse, noting that they were taking the road out of town. As they passed by the area where they'd been attacked by the scorpion man, she took in a sharp breath and looked over to Merton.

"So where are we headed?" He grinned. "There's this great little Italian place in Muellenburg that my family sometimes goes to. I got us a private booth." "Oh, that sounds nice." "I figured even if you didn't want their pasta dishes, pizza's always a safe bet. And they have other stuff." She laughed. "I'm not that picky of an eater, I'm sure it's great." He grinned. "Great."

They chased the setting sun down the highway between towns.

Kalida laid back against the seat, relaxing a bit. "It's nice to get out of town, sometimes." Merton swallowed, remembering her route plan. "You're a bit of a vagabond, I guess." "What?" She thought a moment. "Am I?" "Well, sure… You're always going camping, for example."

She hummed. "I guess. I think I like to remind myself that the world is bigger than my little circle. When things get too stressful, it's nice to think that I'm choosing to stay in a place, rather than stuck in a place."

"Do you ever feel stuck here?" "I did at first. My hands were sort of tied." She looked over at Merton with a grin. "But I'm enjoying it now." "Even with demons and werewolves bugging you?" he teased. "Well, they're not the only ones I spend my time with." He felt a bit of color rising in his cheeks and forced a laugh. "I guess that's true."

A silence fell between them again as she messed with the radio.

"There's a lot of world I haven't seen yet, though," she commented lightly. "I'd really like to travel in Europe, and maybe see the rest of North America. The States is such a big place, and I've never been to eastern Canada." Her voice turned wistful. "In the Maritimes everyone has crazy accents, and they've got harbour towns and lighthouses. I've always wanted to see it."

Merton chuckled. "Like I said, you're a vagabond." "No, that's not it! Isn't a vagabond someone who doesn't have a home? I want a home, too. I just want to vacation a lot. I want to see a lot of things and learn about the big weird world we live in." He nodded, mulling it over. "I think I follow." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't you?"

"I guess…" He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "I think I'd be happy anyplace, if I have my friends and my hobbies to keep busy with." "So I can just stash you in the back and drive Betsy around," she laughed.

"Oh, so in your imagined future, I'd be allowed in your camper?" "Yeah, why not?" "You never let anyone in there." "Oh." She tapped her chin. "I guess I haven't." "For all I know, you're hiding some terrible secrets in there." "Right, I might be one of the monsters you fight." "I think I'd make an exception for you." "Oh? You'd have a monster girlfriend?" She laughed. "How reckless of you." "It wouldn't be the first time," he muttered.

"Wait, what?" Merton winced. "Let's just say I've had… a less than perfect track record when choosing dates." "Gosh, well, no pressure on me to break the combo," she laughed. "How about you?" "Can't say I've ever dated a monster. At least not that I know of, anyway." "But you've had boyfriends before?"

She shrugged. "I've dated guys, but nothing serious. Things didn't work out for one reason or another. Normal stuff." Merton made a small sound. He wondered if she considered them something serious or not. Kalida wasn't sure what to make of Merton's silence. "I guess that's good, because it would have sucked to move away from someone I was in love with."

"Like Isaac?" "What?" "I was wondering what your relationship with him was." "Um… friends?" "But you kissed him, right?" "He kissed me. And I turned him down. Because I like you." "R-right."

"Let's not get weird about other people, okay? I like you, I'm not gonna do anything with someone else. That's not who I am." "Sorry." Merton shook the idea from his head. "You're right. Let's just have a good date."

---

When they got to the restaurant, Kalida looked around with mild surprise. It was a low-ceilinged first floor in an old building, with support pillars breaking up the tables. Along each side wall were private booths. When they were seated, the waiter lit a tealight and left them to ponder the menu.

"It's nice in here," she said quietly. Merton smiled to himself. So far so good. "I recommend their lasagna," he offered, looking over the large menu. "I'm not really in to red sauce, though." "Ah, the wholesome tomato, so unappreciated." She kicked his toe lightly with her foot. "I just prefer white sauce." "A boon to the dairy industry." She snorted.

After a moment she shut her menu. "So what are you getting?" He slowly shut the menu. "The lasagna." He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "I'm a creature of habit."

---

As they waited for their food to arrive, they talked about various things. Kalida told him stories of her time in Canada, and he told her about things he and Tommy had fought. By the time their food came, they were holding hands across the table, lost in conversation.

Merton perked up, pulling his hand back as the waiter put his plate down. A small casserole dish was bubbling with cheese beside two pieces of garlic bread.

Kalida's order was a bowl of tortellini covered in Alfredo sauce. When the waiter left, she stabbed a tortellini onto her fork and blew on it carefully.

Merton dug right in, closing his eyes as he savoured the first bite. He let out a quiet, happy sigh. "Must be pretty good." He nodded, grinning at her. "It is." "You should gimme a bite." She stabbed another pasta and held it out to him. "Trade." "Oh, okay." Merton hastily scooped up a forkful of his lasagna and held it out toward her. They both leaned over and carefully fed the other.

Kalida considered the flavour. "It's good. For lasagna." Merton laughed, covering his mouth as he finished swallowing. "For lasagna. High praise." "From me it is." "What if I made you a lasagna?" "Lasagna Mertonia? I'd eat it." "Maybe I'll start practicing." She snorted. "It'll be the official dish of your people." "Yeah, me and Margaret can have a feast." "Margaret and I." Merton held a finger up to accept her correction. "Margaret and I can have a feast."

"So Tommy and I are cut, then?" "I don't think either of you have adopted the flag of Mertonia or pledged allegiance to its King." "You have like a ceremony fleshed out for that, or…?" Merton narrowed his eyes. "I really should." "Well, what if I just pledged allegiance right now?" "I would find that amenable." "Thank you, Your Highness."

Merton laughed, taking a bite of his garlic bread. "If I'm the King, I guess that would make you Queen Consort now." Kalida posed and flipped her hair. "I move up the ranks quickly."

---

After dinner, they took a walk along a lit path beside the river.

Holding Merton's hand, Kalida leaned against him. "Thanks for tonight, it's been really nice." "I aim to please." "I don't know how to one-up you now." "Oh, so it's a competition?" "Yep, that's right. If I win best-date, I become King." He laughed. "I don't think I agree to those terms." "But see, you will, if I one-up you. You'll be so impressed you won't be able to argue my logic." "Ahh, persuasion." "I can be very persuasive." "Oh, I'm well aware." "See, you just thought we were on a date, but I'm actually after your crown." "I had no idea." She shrugged. "I'm sly like a fox." He laughed. "It's a good thing I don't know what you're up to. I'd have to stop you." She grinned. "It's a secret to everybody."

They stopped under a lamp. "Maybe we should head back to the hearse." Merton suggested. "It's getting cold." She moved to stand in front of him, one hand still firmly holding his. "So warm me up." He let out a small laugh, but leaned down and kissed her forehead. "We're in public, though, so I can't do what I'd like to."

Her face flushed a pinkish red. "O-oh." She pulled him back toward the parking lot. "Then let's get back." He walked along with her, thinking that it was nice to have a girl who wasn't a monster actually interested in him.

Kalida wondered what Merton had meant about not being able to do what he wanted to. Was he just teasing her, or did he want to do something in the car? She tried not to feel nervous. She felt the heat in her cheeks. I guess he succeeded in warming me up, though.

When they got back up to the street, Merton squeezed her hand and pointed over to a café. "Want to get something to drink on the way home?" "Oh, okay. That sounds nice."

---

Kalida sipped at her London fog as Merton pulled out onto the highway.

"I think Tommy really appreciated you coming over today." Merton let out a dismissive snort. "No big." "Nah, I could tell. He asked for you specifically, even if he was a big baby about it once you arrived." "I'm just glad he didn't get seen. I'm not sure Mayor Bob could handle his son being deviant." "Yeah I can see that."

"One time he actually spearheaded an angry mob trying to hunt down the Pleasantville Werewolf. It was bad." "Oh, wow." Kalida gawked. "That must have sucked for Tommy. Your own dad trying to hunt you." "It was fine, though. They stopped looking for him." He waited a beat. "Obviously." She laughed. "I don't imagine they were especially well equipped for werewolf hunting anyway." "Luckily not. Tommy's infamy is mostly considered urban legend." "Our very own sasquatch."

---

They spent the ride discussing mythical creatures around the world – the Loch Ness monster, selkies, and more.

When Merton pulled up in front of the Dawkins residence, he cut the engine and looked over at her in the din. "Thanks for coming out with me. I had a great time." She took off her seatbelt and slid closer to him on the bench seat. "Me too. It was kind of romantic."

They turned to face each other.

"Thanks for giving me a second chance." Merton rubbed his arm. "I know I kind of blew it the first time-" "Don't-" she put her hands up. "Just never mind all that." She tilted her head at him. "Thanks for giving me a second chance too."

Merton leaned in hesitantly and Kalida kissed him before he could kiss her.

---

When Kalida stepped inside the Dawkins house, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Ignoring it, she slipped off her boots and made to go upstairs.

"Kalida, can you join us in the kitchen, please?" She heard her uncle's voice call from the other room. "Sure!" She put down her purse and made her way through the livingroom - past Dean, who was absorbed in a Brady Bunch marathon - to the kitchen.

Bob and Sally sat at the dining table, and looked over at her with stern expressions.

Bob spoke. "I feel like we've been very clear about our expectations, Kalida." She shifted her weight, the glow of the evening lost. "If you can't respect our rules-" "Bob," Sally put her hand on her husband's arm to temper him. She turned to Kalida. "We're just very disappointed that you would lie to us. And we're worried about you, dear. Heavens knows what trouble you might be getting up to."

Kalida blinked and stared back at them in stunned confusion. "S-sorry, what?" Bob frowned. "The school left a message on our machine. A student in our household missed a class. Ring any bells?"

She felt tongue-tied. She couldn't deny that she'd skipped her classes - but at the same time, she didn't have a story prepared to explain why. "Uh, I…" her voice died in her throat.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't stay in line for long. All that hippie stuff you're into," he pointed. Kalida could feel the sting of tears in her eyes as she stood, defenseless, before her uncle.

"You're just like that whackadoo mother of yours, thinking you can just ignore the rules, do whatever you like! Well not in this house, and not in this country. If you're going to disrespect Sally and I, I see no reason for us to continue to allow you to-"

A frustrated voice interjected. "Would you lay off?"

They all turned to see Tommy standing in the doorway behind Kalida.

Bob held a hand up dismissively. "This doesn't concern you." Tommy stepped into the room and in front of Kalida, blocking her defensively. "I'm sick of you being such a hardass to Kalida all the time."

"Language!" Sally gaped. "I don't care!" Tommy gestured in frustration. "Ever since she moved here, Dad's been giving her a hard time about everything. She gets better grades than I do, and studying with her has brought my GPA way up. She's always helping me with the chores, and she never complains. And she follows all of your rules. Why are you always ragging on her?"

"I don't think truancy is something to dismiss." "Dad! It wasn't Kali that skipped class!" Bob frowned. "What are you saying, Thomas?" Kalida put a hand on Tommy's arm and murmured. "Tommy…" It didn't feel right to let him take the blame.

Tommy took a deep breath. "I wasn't feeling well, so instead of going to bio, I caught a ride home with a friend. It was me that skipped class, not her." Sally looked between the two teens, seeming unsure.

Tommy continued. "You're just so convinced that she's a problem that you didn't even consider that it might be me, did you? Even though she's a better teenager than I am. I mean, if she isn't living up to your expectations, how could I?" There was real frustration and exasperation in his voice.

Kalida looked up at him with wet eyes, still mostly behind him. Is that really how you feel, Tommy? Bob deflated somewhat and looked off to the side. "I think you should get to bed. I expect both of you to be at all of your classes tomorrow."

Tommy inhaled sharply and whipped around, wrapping a protective arm around Kalida. She looked up to see his eyes glowing a faint yellow. He let out a thrumming growl as he lead her out of the room and up the stairs.

When they got to her bedroom, he followed her in and shut the door. He sat down on the plush carpet and leaned his head back against the door.

She stood at the foot of her bed, fists clenched. She tried to keep her voice soft. "Tommy, are you alright?" His eyes were closed, but he let out a brief snort at her question. "I'm just trying to calm down so I don't wolf out." "I-it's okay if you do, it's just us in here." "It's easier to not do it at all than to de-wolf after I get worked up." He opened his eyes and stared her down. "Thanks, though."

She nodded, then averted her gaze. He was emitting a strangely aggressive energy, and she felt like prey with no recourse. "You didn't have to do that… I would have just accepted getting grounded or-"

"No." His voice was a deep growl. "I'm sick of him harassing you. I should have said something earlier. I feel like I've been watching him bully you for months and I just-" He took in another sharp inhale and tried to slow his breathing.

A tense silence fell between them for a few long moments.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer, apologetic. "I'm sorry I snapped. And I'm sorry it took so long to say something. I knew it wasn't okay, that he was making you feel unwelcome."

Kalida stepped over to him and sat on the floor before him. "A bit. But I don't blame you for that at all. It's just Uncle Bob. I get that he doesn't like my mom." "He shouldn't take it out on you, though." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I know where I belong." Tommy looked over at her with concern. He felt a pang of anxiety. "And where is that?" She took one of his hands in her own and tilted her head at him. "With my pack." Tommy squeezed her small hand tightly. "You're not gonna disappear on me?" "That would be a cool super power to have," she teased.

His expression remained serious. "Hey, Kal… After you graduate, where are you gonna live?" She blinked. "I… I don't really know yet. I guess it depends on where I end up going to school." Tommy nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Of course."

Kalida studied Tommy's morose face. She shook his hand. "Where should we go?" Tommy forced a smile. "With grades like yours, you can probably go anywhere." "So why don't we see where you get accepted first, before I make any decisions? It would be better if I knew someone there."

He felt like she was just saying those things to make him feel better. He took his hand back. "Yeah, I guess it's still early."

She nodded, looking down. "To be honest, I'm not sure what to do." Tommy studied her face but didn't reply.

"When I first moved here, my plan was just to go home after grad. My friends up north aren't going to the same schools, but they'd all be in the same area. If I moved up there, I could see them any time." "...I guess you have a whole life up there." "I did." She pulled her knees up against her chest. "I had a solid plan for my life. I knew what I wanted to study, and what job I wanted. I had a social life." She forced a sardonic smile. "When dad took that job, it felt like the end of the world." Tommy looked away, frowning.

"In a way, I guess it was. Now I know about werewolves, and demons," she gestured. "How do you go back to a normal life? I don't want to just leave you and Merton to deal with all of that by yourselves." "Don't stay here just to fight monsters." "That's… not what I'm trying to say." She ran her hand through her long hair. "I just don't have a plan, for once. I have no idea what I'm doing once we graduate."

"Well… what do you want to do?" "That's just it. I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't really know who I am anymore. Everything changed all of a sudden."

"Yeah, I know that feeling."

---

Tags: @self-conscious-author

(Let me know if you'd like to be tagged on this story specifically.)

---

Chapter 13 here.

Chapters: 1&2, 3&4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

#big wolf on campus #big wolf #bwoc fanfic #bwoc #merton x oc #merton j dingle #merton dingle #tommy dawkins

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Text

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this.

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery, as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

#just a dumb little thing #anyway stay safe and healthy #regrettablewritings #tadashi hamada imagine #lucifer morningstar imagine #dewey finn imagine #wade wilson imagine #harley quinn imagine #tadashi hamada #lucifer morning star #dewey finn #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc

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lady-plantagenet · 3 years

Text

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 3: GOOD Grief! (we finally have a good episode on our hands)

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

Drawing of Thomas More’s Son AKA who Margaret Pole at this point wants to be the step baby momma of ;).

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

LMAO the way Wolsey suggests they break their alliance with Spain is freaking hilarious because the actor delivers the lines as if he were a high school girl making a personal attack by suggesting the prom change its theme to 70s disco to the chagrin of the peppy up-and-coming rival.

Also @ Henry VIII looking like the peppy up-and-comer’s bff and shy stan with that pencil bite and small smirk when Catherine loses her cool against Wolsey.

I’m sorry... who is Henry married to again?

Also what is Margaret Pole doing at the council meeting?? I’m not saying I don’t like it.

Margaret Pole warning against certain repetitive thinking creating madness :(((

Attempted Naked Twister:

Oh Catherine, what is with you and all the other STARZ protagonists and that weird politcky bedroom talk? Who actually finds this sexy?

‘Catherine you are unnatural’ ooof that line delivery was somehow haunting.

Was the whole ‘I can’t be rushed you are off-putting with your overpowering’ a callback to Arthur and Catherine? Apparently there’s another writer for this episode so I won’t put all subtly past them.

Scotland:

‘Shitey men’ asdkjashd

Look I’m tired of all this ‘my children won’t be safe’ line getting repeated. Look mate, murder of royal infants and children was not exactly a common occurence, even in cases of deposition. The Princes in the Tower are an exception to this but a very infamous case for that reason. Child murder was extremely taboo. In situations like this with an infant kid, no one is going to bother murdering the babies and taking their thrones, the lords will just vie for power and make themselves de facto rulers and oust the queen. It’s not a question of safety but a question of holding power. Stop giving all women characters perma mummy brains.

Maggie being all caring:

‘Barnaby’ *scoffs* ‘Such an English name’ - OH MAN 0_0 is Catherine mocking them for trying to adapt ? Like I know it’s meant to show her envy for Lina, but it’s coming out all messed up.

Our girl Maggie’s smile screams I’m beating your ass in chess.

Anyhow this is the least histrionic we’ve seen Catherine so far.

Chaplain vs Catherine:

I’m interested how Catherine will feel at Stafford’s execution given that I have noticed this show build up to a friendship between them.

Why is everyone laughing at the whole ‘will you delight us with new schemes’ line was not that funny?

LMAO at Thomas Boleyn’s attempted brown-nosing.

You know what? Ruairi is a decent actor. When he says ‘so you admit it? you lost the child because you tried to be a man?” the actor conveys Henry’s troubled mind, lowkey scare towards Catherine and bewilderment all in one. The way his eyes do not move but just widen emotionlessly also gives this sense that he is being manipulated (which I guess they are going for with Wolsey). Then the whole choir music in the background.. I don’t know.. I’m liking this, it’s creating a vibe of a king of haunted and increasingly paranoid Henry. I’m sure they are going for that, so good.

Ursula Pole and Mama:

Maggie Pole say ‘riches don’t keep you safe’ with tears in her eyes :’(. Please tell me how this is not her thinking on her parents and granddad Warwick and what befell them ;’(.

I find Ursula refreshing actually, don’t get those types of heroines often. But they are making her similar to a gold-digger, an exhalted marriage was first and foremost considered a thing of honour. Noblepeople wouldn’t speak in such mercenary terms regarding their marriages.

Post Mary Defiance:

I love the ‘horse’ nickname from Brandon n’awwww

Also just realised what made TWQ so atmospheric - that wierd ‘oooo’ sound effect in the background when a character was being paranoid or worrying. They are using it during Henry’s ‘How is it that I have no sons?’ and it is just... so effective.

Catherine calling them ordinary children... she just keeps striking me as more and more classist. Like ok, I know every royal was... but still, I thought she was meant to see Lina as a friend and equal despite her race and status. To add the race element, this kind of rubs me the wrong way.

Also it is so clear by the end when Catherine states how the king is upset with her, she expects Maggie to ask her about it.. but she doesn’t lmao.

Back to Scotland until Sexy boy fencing:

I love me this soft boi. Angus <3 <3

I like how they address that some men don’t really like killing and that violence isn’t inherent in a man’s nature.

Oh man, are we supposed to look at Lina’s house and deplore the impoverished conditions? It would go for at least 3,000,000 pounds in today’s property market?

Is Catherine being particularly classist again with ‘Why u not becoming a butcher Wolsey, ey?’.

Though I will admit the ‘but giving meat to the poor is also good’ was one of her only smart comebacks.

Just realised, Catherine’s pink dress pretty as it is, looks straight out of the 1570s... why?

Montage and After:

You guys are right, there is this weird longing between Henry and Wolsey lmao. It is actually insane.

So basically Catherine is officially depressed

OOOFF we have Stafford as regent instead of Catherine. (edit: I suppose it’s cause they go to France which they didn’t historically? Also if Stafford is at home then what is his son later doing in France, why would he be there without his father. This show didn’t think this through)

Meg Singing:

An impassionate speech is not too anachronistic. But despite the title of this post (what hasn’t been said) I will reiterate that 16th century and Medieval people’s problem wasn’t that they were ashamed of their grief and didn’t cry. In fact, crying was somewhat more socially acceptable then than it even is now! Even manly men like Arthur were written as crying in literature such as Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Obviously you couldn’t go overboard, but in truth crying was indeed often too performative rather than hidden too much behind doors.

Pole and More UWUWU in France and after:

I LIKE THIS INTELLECTUAL FLIRTING

It’s nice to see a depiction of romantic feelings between mature and level-headed subjects.

God Mary Tudor is so beautiful in this scene jesus. and the music when she was being presented was also very beautiful.

Maggie Pole getting given ‘a modest income’ yeah... she was one of the wealthiest peers of her day.

Also Maggie’s lady cousin not lady aunt Frost!

‘shaking of the sheets’ lmaoooo

William Compton cracks the hell out of me. I love this guy. He is just so creepy and twisted yet super keen and friendly. ahaha He looks like a riot, I hope we see him more. lmao tiles.

Also this palace feels very anachronistic almost 18th century-ish.

I like the Louis and Mary sequence, it’s nice seeing him trying to make her feel less scared, but OMFG when he lay on that chair.. for one second I thought they were trying to kill him off already.

Scotland: ‘Love is an open doooooorrrrr’ + Last Scene:

I ship Meg and Douglas ahhhh this soft boi x strong woman match is everything Henry and Catherine could have been.

I wonder... why is Lina speaking in Spanish more than Catherine. hmmm Are they trying to foreshadow Lina’s eventual return home and how Catherine become a true englishwoman?

Conclusion:

7.5/10

I cannot in all fairness believe it. This was actually decent. I’ve given up on historical accuracy long ago so by this point I’m focusing more on how it stands as as drama. I mean, TWQ was also a flop when it came to grasping the complex issues of that era but why do I feel compelled to rewatch it every year? Because it had atmosphere when it came to acting, music, certain aesthetics (though the costumes let me down often). It felt adequately gothic and dark, yet bright and jewel-lish when it had to be, sometimes both at the same time. Some one-liners were also memorable etc...

So far TSP 2 did not have any of this. Everything felt way too off and anachronistic. But not even consistently anachronistic. The music was also often very meh (though I just noted the absence of the spanish stringy theme that kept playing in season 1 - I guess I understand why), the dialogue very clichéd (‘alright lads let’s throw in the words: king, crown, power, fight, battle + other buzzwords and we have ourselves Shakespeare’) and so on... but I saw a change in this episode and I couldn’t initially point out what it was.

Upon rewatch, I identified some of the improvements (noted above) but above all: The producer was different! Boy does it show. Unfortunately, I think she is only for this one episode which really sucks. Come back! There is more chemistry between the couples, less predictable interactions, pervy Compton, cinnamonroll Douglas, better music, more scenic shots (e.g Douglas and Margaret in church) e.t.c. I hope it will match the rest of the STARZ productions in getting better towards the end.

Look it’s no masterpiece. But I’ll give credit where it’s due because at least this time it didn’t leave me feeling wanting and unsatisfied (if that makes sense).

#the spanish princess #the spanish princess 2 #lady plantagenet's series reviews #catherine of aragon #henry viii #mary tudor queen of france #margaret tudor #charles brandon #margaret pole

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rizahawkais · 3 years

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I LOVED season 1 and 2 of the crown but found season 3 quite dull and difficult to get through. I'm enjoying season 4 (still havent finished bc I watch with my family and we're rarely all together) but I think that the earlier seasons were a lot better in my opinion

hi! i completely agree w you!

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY! I replied to this the day you sent it but my laptop crashed and I lost everything I wrote so I put off till now!

All in all, the writing for the first two seasons were WAY better. My ranking is s2 > s1 > s4 >>>>> s3. In my opinion, season three was kind of terrible.

hahaha this is so so long.

In the first two seasons each episode’s mini story for the day was actually INTERESTING. Like, I loved where one episode was about the Mountbatten name and then the next was about the Great Smog! But, there was always an overarching plot and it always added up in the end. S1, S2 and S4 all had an overarching plot that worked! S1 was balancing family and the crown. S2 was balancing prime ministers and her husband. S4 was the downfall of Margaret Thatcher and Charles/Diana. S3 LITERALLY HAD NO PLOT! It was just a bunch of stories put together. The finale for season 3 was about the end of Margaret’s marriage! And although, it is an important event in the family’s history the fact that it was the finale episode????

Anyways, Season 3 genuinely just sucks. Season 4 is REALLY good. Yet, it still doesn’t leave as much of an affect on me like the earlier seasons. AND LIKE I KNOW BECAUSE I’VE REWATCHED THE FIRST THREE SEASONS SO MANY TIMES. I’ve only seen the fourth once because I’m too busy and it’s also too early for me to rewatch it. So, maybe my opinion of season 4 will change!

Now, because I am extra 😈😈 and crazy I will talk about every single episode IN ORDER. hehehehehehe. feel free to hate me

SEASON ONE

101 Wolferton Splash - 10/10 this episodes just sets everything up! we see how happy the marriage is and how loving king george is and we also see the FORSHADOWING!! we see lilibet and phillip making their life thinking they had time when we know they don’t and it’s just :( AN AMAZING PILOT EPISODE WITH AMAZING QUOTES!

102 Hyde Park Corner - 1000/10 this episode needs no explanation. the suspense and DRAMA right before lilibet finds out about her dad ALWAYS gets me!!

103 Windsor - 10/10 I hated this episode the first time I watched it! I didn’t understand the importance of her uncle and I didn’t understand the complexity behind the episode. I was 14 when I saw this episode for the first time! So, mind you I was quite ignorant. but, david basically represents the audience in the show for those who hate the monarchy and call them out on their hypocrisy. BUT DAVID IS A TERRIBLE PERSON! FUCK DAVID! i understand hating the monarchy and for him i know it was personal but the way he talks about his family in the letters UGHUGHGUHGUHGUHGUH this man is evil! there’s also the other story in the episode about the mountbatten name which is so brilliant!

104 Act of God - 15/10 this episode was boring on first watch but I WAS FOURTEEN! this episode took a break from the monarchy and concentrated on a british national horrific event THAT WAS IMPORTANT and i liked how it connected throughout the episode and all that and the CINEMATOGRAPHY OMGGGGG! anyways, something that pisses me off about this episode is that the crown kind of has the same kind of audience as euphoria! they only care about a hot actor or iconic character or the aesthetics AND THAT MAKES ME ANGRY! bc those are the ppl who call this episode the boring fog episode and the latest episode of euphoria a waste of time! they don’t understand the importance of what their watching. an event that killed hundreds by something that could have been avoided bc of science and for euphoria an ongoing pandemic of an ugly world and its affect on ppl not wanting to go on! IM SORRY THIS TURNED INTO A RANT but this episode is important in reminding audiences that disasters can be avoided but also once they happen anything can happen THIS WAS A SAD EPISODE OKAY AND I LOVED VENETIA SCOTT!

105 Smoke and Mirrors - 100/10 THE CORONATION EPISODE! Phillip tries to bring it to the common public and all the fighting between them just makes the coronation even more impactful when we watch it!

106 Gelignite - 8/10 I DESPISED MARGARET IN THE FIRST SEASON i saw her as a spoiled brat who wanted to marry her dad’s assistant! AND ALSO HOW DID SHE NOT REALIZE THERE WAS DEFINITE GROOMING INVOLVED! this episode is generally very good but margaret just pisses me off a lot! however, her not being able to marry peter boresend shouldn’t have been because of his divorcee status but bc he simply was a predator in anyone’s clear eyes IM SORRY IF YOU DISAGREE BUT SHE MET HIM SO YOUNG NO WAY THERE WAS NO GROOMING good episode but pissed off at margaret’s lack of critical thinking besides but I WANT HIMMMMM LIKE I WANT EVERYTHING

107 Scientia Potentia Est - 11/10 hated this when i first watched it! but now one of my favorites! lilibet feels dumb and needs a tutor! prime minister and wannabe prime minister have health problems and keep it from her! lilibet finds out by accident and they all get yelled at! I LOVE WHEN SHE YELLS AT MEN!

108 Pride & Joy - 10/10 this episode is just adds on to the overarching plot of the season: balancing the crown and family. margaret says disrespectful things to ppl who don’t deserve it in place of lilibet while she’s on the commonwealth tour fighting with her husband! then lilibet scorns margaret and we see an ugly papa loved me more argument! absolutely brilliant!

109 Assassins - 1000/10 hated it the first time but now I LOVE THIS EPISODE! it’s the painting and porchey episode and churchill leaving episode. It’s so so so good! i honestly have no words to describe the brilliance of this episode besides the acting done by almost the entire main cast CLAIRE WOW! MATT WOW! STEPHEN (THE PAINTER) WOW! JOHN WOW! HARRIET WOW! when we see the painting getting burned coincided w the downing st dinner GETS ME EVERYTIME I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH!

110 Gloriana - 100/10 the climactic fight between the crown and family! which will lilibet choose?? and the foreshadowing to suez MWAH!

SEASON TWO

201 Misadventure - 100/10 LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS EPISODE the cutesy lilibet and phillip until it all goes down WOW! and the suez stuff i love it all

202 A Company of Men - 100/10 this is where i think mike’s wife starts snooping or it’s the next episode BUT THIS IS WHERE SOMETHING BEGINS FOR SURE first of all it foreshadows the episode later in the season about philip’s childhood AND MATT’S ACTING!! it’s too good for words!

203 Lisbon - 100/10 i like it when they fight lol that’s the only way i know how to describe why i love it LILIBET WAS EXCITED TO SEE HIM AND SO WAS HE but then mike ruined it by being a disgraceful and dishonest man RUINING EVERYTHING

204 Beryl - 10/10 i start to like margaret bc i feel bad for her! she’s suffering she’s sad that her lil predator boyfriend is no longer w her but look who it is MATTHEW GOODE! he not suspicious at all but the writers are like here take 20 minutes of perfect chemistry between the actors!

205 Marionettes - 100/10 I LOVE THIS EPISODE basically someone who loves the monarchy insults the monarchy and lilibet actually goes to listen to them! w resistance of course but she still took everything he said to fix the monarchy !

206 Vergangenheit - 1000/10 one of my favorites! i didn’t know about david’s nazi past so when i watched this episode for the first time i was completely baffled! another episode where she yells at a man!!!! i’m always annoyed in this episode tho by all the talk from the priest about forgiveness bc im like why would u want to forgive david for being a nazi?? but i think it was intentional by the writers to show the importance of understanding forgiveness and the grounds for it! THIS EPISODE IS JUST PERFECT IM ANNOYED BC I DON’T WANT TO FORGIVE HIM

207 Matrimonium - 9/10 this episode is amazing BEFORE you’ve seen season three bc you root for margaret and tony! but, also throughout the episode there’s all that tony and family and his gf and bf stuff that you think is going to lead somewhere but doesn’t??? like what was the point of introducing his mother and his relationships if it was going nowhere and not even mentioned in season 3??? LIKE WHAT WAS THE POINT WHAT WAS THE REASON? but, also there’s lilibet and phillip fluff in this episode I LOVE

208 Dear Mrs. Kennedy - 10/10 this episode is fun as an american bc i think jackie kennedy and jfk are so idolized here in america it was so interesting to see this other pov! BUT I ALSO REALLY LOVED LILIBET DANCING W NKRUMAH! I THOUGHT IT WAS SO CUTE AND THE MARTIN CHARTERIS STUFF LEADING UP TO IT WAS SO FUNNY!

209 Paterfamilias - 100000/10 no words. IT WAS SO SMART TO PARALLEL PHILIP AND CHARLES this has a lower rating than the previous episode which makes no sense but only goes to prove the idolization of jackie and jfk

210 Mystery Man - 100/10 EVERYTHING FROM THE FIRST EPISODE IS ADDRESSED IN THIS EPISODE THE SEASON COMES FULL CIRCLE JUST LIKE SEASON ONE DID AND SEASON THREE DID NOT DO THAT AND SEASON FOUR DID IT TOO BUT NO WHERE AS GREATLY

every single episode of seasons two has a 9+ rating from me!

SEASON THREE (worst season)

301 Olding - 5/10 weak starter but good for introducing olivia as lilibet and harold wilson and departing churchill BUT THAT’S IT! like the whole spy thing just went bleh LIKE IT HAD POTENTIAL but it needed early seasons writing not third season writing techniques TOBIAS DID A GREAT JOB THO IN THIS EPISODE HE WAS A GREAT RECAST FOR PHILIP

302 Margaretology - 6/10 okay. just okay. margaret kind of bratty but you actually feel bad for her then she gets bratty again and then you feel bad for her again and the scenarios in the episode just didn’t feel real like the whole lyndon b johnson was so jealous of jfk that he was rude to the queen so they sent margaret JUST DIDN’T MAKE SENSE like i know this show is fictional but the fiction tends to be believable until i research the episode afterwards BUT FOR THIS it just didn’t make sense

303 Aberfan - 1000/10 ONE OF THE GOOD EPISODES OF THE SEASON! those first fifteenish minutes??? TEARS! i never knew about aberfan until this episode and seeing this episode made me cry!

304 Bubbikins - 10000/10 THIS EPISODE IS TECHNICALLY NOT AS GOOD AS THE ABERFAN EPISODE BUT THIS IS A PERSONAL PREFERENCE we meet anne and alice in this episode AND I LOVE BOTH OF THEM (erinsdoherty is my current url!) this episode is so sad and sweet at the same time and loving bc i’m a sucker for philip’s back story!

305 Coup - 8/10 this had potential I FEEL LIKE IF THEY WROTE THIS EPISODE DIFFERENTLY LIKE HOW THEY WROTE ONE OF THE SUEZ EPISODE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH BETTER the fact that it all went to nothing and nothing basically happened WHAT WAS THE POINT

306 Tywysog Cymru - 1000/10 this episode made me like charles! what a horrendous statement! but, like i thought his relationship w his tutor was so heartwarming and he actually seemed to care and all that and it just all in all MADE ME HAPPY like this episode isn’t sad it’s a happy episode until the last scene w lilibet BUT YEA they gave us this one good episode until we hate him which i appreciate makes the story telling better

307 Moondust - -100/10 hate this episode LIKE GENUINELY HATE IT HATE HATE HATE and tbh im generally very very nice w my opinions ANYWAYS I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THIS EPISODE BUT IT WAS SO STUPID LIKE THE ASTRONAUTS BEING ASSHOLES WAS STUPID PHILIP BEING AN ASSHOLE TO THE PRIESTS WAS STUPID LIKE PHILIP IS AN ASSHOLE BUT IT’S BEHIND PEOPLE’S BACKS AND THEN THEY KILLED ALICE OFF SCREEN I HATE THIS EPISODE

308 Dangling Man - -1000/10 HATE THIS ONE TOO this episode convinced me that the writers for the first two seasons to this season has changed all of a sudden we forget that david was basically a nazi and the charles we met two episodes ago sees him as exactly like this uncle who he swore he would be nothing like to the people of wales??? LIKE WHO WROTE THIS THEY WERE DOING CRACK WHILE WRITING THIS EPISODE and i felt NOTHING during the lilibet and david goodbye WHACK EPISODE TERRIBLE JUST BAD TERRIBLE

309 Imbroglio - 5/10 episode started off good but then just went a lil too crazy by making it seem like a whole secret spy mission going behind lilibet’s back

310 Cri de Cour - 4/10 bad just bad HBC GOOD ACTRESS AMAZING ACTRESS given bad material like NONE OF THIS FEELS CONNECTED THIS STORY IS ALL RANDOM AND WE HAD A WHOLE EPISODE ABOUT MARGARET AND TONY AND WE DON’T EVEN MENTION ANY OF THE CRAZY STUFF FROM THE LAST SEASON BUT WE CONCENTRATE ON MARGARET BEING A SUGAR MAMA MAKES SENSE YALL

once again i hate season three

SEASON FOUR

401 Gold Stick- 8/10 written weirdly but had GOOD SCENES such as meeting thatcher and diana! BUT THE SCENE STEALER WAS OBVIOUSLY MOUNTBATTEN’S DEATH AND PHILIP TELLING CHARLES THAT HE BECAME DICKIE’S SON INSTEAD OF HIM SAD STUFF so like the death was sad and dramatic and I FELT BAD but like i shouldn’t bc im south asian and mountbatten did bad stuff to us BUT IT DOESN’T CHANGE THE RIPPLE WE FELT

402 The Balmoral Test - 9/10 funny episode but needed early seasons’ writing

403 Fairytale - 9/10 good episode but needed early seasons’ writing BUT ALSO THAT SCENE BETWEEN CAMILA AND DIANA MWAH CHEF’S KISS THEY BOTH DESERVE ALL THE AWARDS but needed early seasons’ writing

404 Favourites - 7/10 this episode is good but frustrating bc u finally realize how terrible of a mother lilibet is BUT THE ANDREW STUFF WAS GOOD I AM GLAD THEY PUT THAT IN! i liked seeing thatcher’s non-existent relationship w her daughter NEEDED EARLY SEASONS’ WRITING

405 Fagan - 10/10 GOOD EPISODE I LIKE HOW WE WERE EMERSED IN FAGAN’S LIFE AND I LOVE THE ACTOR FOR FAGAN TOO AND I LIKE HOW IT WAS CONNECTED TO THATCHER AND FUELED THE OVERARCHING PLOT OF THE STORY!

406 Terra Nullius - 100/10 GOOD EPISODE CLOSEST TO EARLY SEASONS WRITING THAT’S WHAT MADE IT GOOD seeing them not get along and then get along and then not get along again through a series of montages made the episode brilliant!

407 The Hereditary Principle - 6/10 this episode. how do i explain? the material for this episode was absolutely perfect for the writers of the early seasons! POOR EXECUTION

408 48:1 - 100/10 i like the political episodes more than the family episodes SO THIS EPISODE IS SO BRILLIANT BC OF THE BACK AND FORTH AND I GOT TO SEE CLAIRE!!

409 Avalanche - 7/10 early season writers would have shown the arguing before the avalanche and diana’s reaction JUST SAYING

410 War - 9/10 THIS EPISODE HAD THE YELLING AT EACH OTHER SCENE THAT WAS SO GOOD BUT ANYWAYS THE PROBLEM W THIS EPISODE WAS THAT IT DRAGGED I FEEL LIKE THIS EPISODE AND THE ONE BEFORE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ONE EPISODE TOGETHER

ALAS, what i would like to say is that i feel that season 4 shouldn’t have been so diana centric! it was diana from the beginning of the season to the end! not, that i don’t love the whole diana story but it was dragged and i think she should have been introduced around the third/fourth episode of this season the same way tony was in season two! camilla should have arrived at the beginning of season 4 so that the intensity between camilla, charles and diana was more believable! if we season three wasn’t so spread out they could have had more brilliant episode.

OK HAHA I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS VERY LONG RANT ABOUT THE CROWN PLZ FORGIVE ME! AND IF U READ ALL THIS WOW! IDK WHAT TO SAY I THINK I TALK TOO MUCH HONESTLY :( anyways thank you for talking to me :)

#the crown #queen elizabeth #prince philip #princess margaret #princess anne #princess diana #prince charles #margaret thatcher #asks #i talk too much

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elliebartlets · 3 years

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TWW REWATCH: The Portland Trip (2.07)

• I need to take a break from the sopranos because it’s making me crazy so I’m forcing myself to continue this rewatch (well not forcing myself to watch *west wing*, just forcing myself to watch something else)

• weird. it opens with the “previously on the west wing” and then after that’s done it goes to the title card and then goes back to “previously on the west wing.” I don’t remember if that happened when it was on netflix but I don’t think it did

• from the back Danny’s hair looks like woman’s hair from the 80s lol

• “I made fun of Notre Dame.”

“No no no!”

lol and then she has to wear the Notre Dame hat and sing the fight song (which I still wish we saw)

• “Hey photo op!”

“Oh good god.”

Lol

• Donna lifting Josh’s feet off his desk to pick up files and then turning off the light leaving him to sit in the dark 😂

“Can I have the electricity back on?”

“No.”

Lkdsjanaj

• and then Josh is a total asshole to her!!! I don’t care if it comes from a place of jealousy cause he has a crush on her.

• also it’s kinda hilarious that he insults her taste in men when they get together a few years later...ok Josh u just insulted yourself

• Sam looks like he’s having an out of body experience

• “Nice hat.”

“Shut up.”

• Toby has this slight smirk on his face when Sam finds out CJ gave the draft back from the press. He’s like “I can’t wait to watch him freak out.”

• ah the gay congressmen who doesn’t support gay marriage. I get not wanting your sexuality to define you but denying others the right to marry along with receiving no benefits and reducing the stigma is just

• aw Margaret showing concern for Leo cause his divorce papers came and she thinks he’s gonna drink

• Bartlet’s worried too you can see it in his face when he hangs up with Leo

• “You think a communist never wrote an elegant phrase? How do you think they got everybody to be communists?”

Lol

• In this episode, 60% of Americans oppose same sex marriage. Today that number is like 30%. Improvement!!

• “Oh kill me now.”

• CJ giving the one guy the hairy eyeball for looking at her weird cause of the hat

• I never understood Donna asking Ainsley if they looked alike...did something happen with her date and he thought she was gonna be Ainsley or something? Or was Sorkin just throwing it out there right away so people wouldn’t say they look alike?

• Toby asks Sam “where are we getting the money?” about sending teachers to college. Here’s an idea: cut some of the military budget and spend that on education. I mean hell I just looked it up and the annual US military budget for 2020 fiscal year was 721 billion, compared to education’s 60 something billion.

• everyone’s so concerned for Leo hahaha I’m 🥲

• and I love when Leo’s leaving and he tells Margaret “you’re a good girl” like I’m being 100% serious I tear up

• “Cause I was thinking about becoming a priest.”

“What happened?”

“I met Abbey.”

AhhhHhHHHHHHHJHJJSJSH 😩💕💕💕

• “Why can’t you ever give me answers like that when we’re running for something?”

“Cause I like to bother you.”

• omg shibboleth is next

#the west wing #the portland trip #tww #rewatching the west wing

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thebittahwizard · 4 years

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Damn Right, It’s Women’s Work: A Random Literary Recommendation

Wow, a whole goddamn day for little ol’ us-es? Well, let’s not waste it. In honor of International Women’s Day and my English B.A., here’s a rec list of all the works created by kick-ass women that helped shape my life.

Literature is What You Make of It

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that the book you dogeared, accidentally dropped in the tub, left to yellow in the sun, and read year after year doesn’t qualify as “literature.” The entire industry of the written word is completely subjective, and as long as a work is everlasting to you, it counts.

It fucking counts.

Here’s a list of the works that helped shape my life, for better or for worse:

Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie

My mom started me early with both Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot in print and on TV. Every time I read one of Christie’s works or see an adaptation onscreen, it’s a nostalgia blast straight to my solar plexus.

The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir

This is basically something every person should read to help understand the history of feminism. It’ll help you think about things differently. Or at the very least, you’ll get a head start on your university’s Gender Studies 101 reading list.

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. by Judy Blume

All works by Judy Blume are 100% recommended for young teens, but this one pushed the envelope by frankly discussing both religion and sex. I think teens could use a little more openness in these areas.

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

I read this during my junior year at university on a whim. People kept telling me to read Handmaid’s Tale, but I didn’t just to be a contrary bitch (and also because the topic of HT frankly freaked me out with its eery believability). Oryx and Crake is also a little eery, but it’s definitely worth it.

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

Seventh grade was an interesting time to read this, but it honestly helped me discover the uncomfortable truths of being a girl in this world in a healthy way. This is a trauma novel and you should go into it understanding that for the context of its nonlinear structure.

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

This is a story about a black woman’s desire for love in a world designed not to give her any. It’s raw and charged with issues of race, sex, violence, and gender roles. You can’t go wrong with a slow read-through of this novel.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

This book wasn’t actually my favorite. It was a forced read for my eighth grade English class, and it was a bit of a dry end product for what the concept could have been. However, I really do like the novel’s symbolic use of color (and the absence of it).

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

I’m not fucking crying, you’re fucking crying. Seriously, I thought the book was bad enough, but that goddamn movie? Jesus Christ, that was an early lesson in masochism.

A Vindication of the Rights of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft

This is one of the earliest works of feminist philosophy, and it’s definitely worth the read. Not just to admire, however, but to understand where it falls short and to contextualize how long the feminist movement takes to intersect with other important aspects of life.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

She is the mother of science fiction and, arguably, horror. It’s rather short but packed full of a poetically creepy plot. And just so you know, it’s actually the Frankenstein monster. Frankenstein is the doctor. /s (I understand that this is actually a common misconception, but Jesus tapdancing Christ do you know how many nerds have said this to me? Take your condescendingly raised pointer finger and shove it.)

Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Read this because it’s fucking history, bros and brosettes. Also, it really gets you thinking about the integrity of the average white liberal.

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

Yes. Alllll the yes. Do it.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Move over Emily, the better Bronte is coming through. No seriously, move over because Wuthering Heights was so goddamn dreary I need to take a depression nap.

Sandy Keyes and the Hotel Thief by Wendelin Van Draanen

I read every single book in this series. Sandy Keyes was a sassier Nancy Drew and I was here for it. These books filled every spare minute of my elementary and middle school years. I hope other younglings keep her alive.

A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry

Money, family, poverty, gender roles. This play has everything. I highly recommend reading this work or watching a performance.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling may be a no-good fucking TERF, but the bitch knows how to write an engaging fantasy world. It was a flip on whether she’d go on the Dishonorable list or not, but Harry doesn’t deserve that. Also, the third novel will always be my favorite.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I still remember so clearly in my mind my freshman English teacher (whom I hated) in high school asking the class what this book was about. Everyone kept answering with the obvious: racial conflict, the limitations and successes of the law, family, Scout growing up, etc. She kept saying no and then after 10 minutes of guessing and having us squirm she smugly said, “It’s about Jem breaking his arm.” Then she lectured us for 30 minutes about close reading. It’s irrational, but I’ve hated this book ever since.

The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan

The structure of this novel is absolutely fantastic, and it’s a great insight into the relationships between Chinese-American women and their families.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

That goddamn pie. It gets me every time.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

All Works By Maya Angelou Will Always Be Recommended.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Austen isn’t really my favorite author, but this is my favorite work of hers. I’m a rather basic bitch that way.

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

I cried. I was 14 years old and thought I was long past crying over a book. I was not.

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson

Her diction, syntax, and rhythm are wild. Also, John Mulaney was 100% correct.

The Street by Ann Petry

I read this during my senior year of university in my Black Existentialism class. It was a bit mundane and a little bit sad. Definitely worth a read, though.

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Believe it or not, this was my first foray into LGBTQ+ literature. I have my own reservations about the book itself, but I’ll always be thankful to this novel for knocking me over the head and leading me down a path that I hadn’t thought to discover.

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

This shit was crazy. Literally.

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

The names of the characters are 1000% cringe. And why did you have to do Johnny dirty like that, Susan? Also, am I the only one that kind of hated the movie?

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

This whole book was so goddamn boring. But when understanding exactly what the book was about and how it ended, I feel like it’s appropriate that it was.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

This one is cute and sweet and fit for any teenager to peruse at their leisure.

Feminism is for Everybody by bell hooks

Another Gender Studies 101 required reading to knock off your list. You won’t regret it.

(Dis)Honorable Mentions

Jesus Christ, but I hated everything I ever read by these authors. But I still read them. Blurgh.

Stephanie Meyer. She tried, but it all was just so, so bad. I still read each fucking book in the Twilight series, though, so who really won this battle?

Ayn Rand. Fuck you, Ayn. Nothing further to say, really.

Cassandra Clare. Her works weren’t actually that bad, but her behavior online soured my grapes until I couldn’t read another page of her Infernal Devices series.

Anne Rice. You made vampires boring to me, Anne. Me, an angsty teenager. And you somehow made vampires boring. Congratulations, I guess. Also, fuck off with your holier than thou shit. Ya make boring books, Anne.

#bittah wizard #Random Recommendation #literature #books #novels #writing #rec list #women #women writers #international womens day #you gotta fight #for your right #to write #feminism #authors #women authors

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addytheheartbreaker · 5 years

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My opinion to all the characters of the Masked Singer (season 1 to 2)

I'll list down my favorite characters at the final bottom with my greatest confession.

Season 1 characters:

•Hippo- he has swagger and reminds me of my oc Ishmael who is into hiphop and loves hiphop aesthetic.

•Pineapple- don't have an opinion of him but he is funny though.

•Deer- his design is so cool. Loved the steampunk and general aesthetic there, he is also one of my inspirations on making Dog (Nicol) since I am a fan of general uniforms.

•Poodle- she is the reason I first got interested on watching the Masked Singer in the first place! I loved this characters because of the pink (my favorite color), the sassy attitude and just ugh so fashionable! I loved it, she even sings "Heartbreaker" that I deeply loving her performance. Great job Margaret Cho, it very funny to trick Ken of not knowing his own sister.

•Unicorn- she is so pretty. I've been seeing unicorns everywhere in my life today and now. She is so pretty and white, I have a soft spot of her singing "Oops I did it again" and "Fight" song because of her sweet voice.

•Raven- she reminds me of my oc Ishiru. Dark, sympathetic, gothic and mourning of someone's death especially her beloved. I feel you girl.

•Alien- Alien is cool, I can see why everyone is complaining/reminded of Zim from Zim invaders (I also remember watching it in my childhood). I can't stop dancing and modelling myself while listening to "Ex's and Ohs". I didn't know Michael Jackson had a sister, I didn't know much to his family since I was so young before his death. Great knowing you La Toya Jackson.

•Lion- I am not a fan of gold though but dang she sings so strong and the tone is just over the top. I loved listening to "A little party never kill nobody" and "California Dreamin". Nice knowing you Rumor Willis.

•Peacock- this man is a living fabulous, prideful, eccentric bird I ever seen. I loved his performance, he is also funny and his voice is like an old famous singer I ever heard of. Loved the characters that Donny did and the signature moves though. Congrats to Donny for beings second place.

•Bee- I am not much of a Bee fan but I am in loved with her performance "Wrecking Ball". I can't stop listening to that song because of the high notes, strong voice and my own heart and soul suddenly clutching for this empress. Oh hail to Gladys Knight!

•Monster- aww Monster my second favorite character! I really loved you and I almost loved all of his performance (the one song I don't like is "I love Rock and Roll"). I am so glad T-Pain won the game to avenge my Rabbit since he is my second favorite. All hail to the Monster, T-Pain. (P.S: I didn't know he are the one who sing the song from my past, I guess I did know you on my childhood T-Pain).

•Rabbit- the last one is the Rabbit. My favorite character and the only favorite celebrity for the first time of my entire life! I loved so much about the Rabbit, I fell in love with madness, his edgy and lovable character, his neck twitch to show of his craziness, his design and straightjacket, his voice and performance, EVERYTHING! I am so glad to watch him performed but it broke my heart when he is eliminated on 4th place, I was devastated so much I would never ever rewatch his elimination ever. The Rabbit leading me to my forgotten childhood favorite boyband NSYNC. Joey Fatone, you are my first ever celebrity in my heart and will forever be the Rabbit I dearly cherish for my life. Stan for the Rabbit!

My top 3 favorite characters is: the Rabbit, the Monster and the Poodle.

Season 2 Characters:

•Panda- I don't have any opinions of her though.

•Skeleton- Skeleton is just so very elegant and funny. Loved his design, it gives me the vibes of Itward from the game Fran Bow. His performance is good yet I did not expect him to get eliminated in episode 4.

•Flamingo- Flamingo is pretty in pink. Welp, the idea of Peacock's sister idea is dead now. But she is fabulous in anyway.

•Ladybug- she is pretty too, she is also emotional and I am touch.

•Eagle- I don't know much of Eagle and when I get to know his he got the swag and stuff. (I ship you and Penguin so much)

•Tree- she looks weird though. A Christmas tree? It so early here on Philippines though (only started preparing Christmas on September before reaching December). When I heard her voice, I know that voice before somewhere and that person is also wearing a Christmas costume I swear!

•Rottweiler- huh another dog for this season like Poodle. I don't have an opinion of him though, I'm not really interested.

•Flower- she looks wow to look at. She is a big gal here. Like her performance and I have a feeling this is Bee's (or Glady's) friend somewhere since the voice is like a goddess. Also, I ship Flower with Nick because they both holding hands. I was like X.X oof I'm dead by love, I ship them so hard.

•Butterfly- Butterfly is just cool and alright to me, I am blown away with her performance of "Bang bang". That's all I could thought of.

•Fox- dude... I have mixed feelings to his gentleman here. The Fox has the sexy cool voice, the swag and the steampunk theme like Deer had but I don't think so. I'm not really interested on him unless he changed my mind by getting to know him every episode so I could concluded my theory. (His dancer and his performance reminds me of me with Nicol on stage. Me as a dancer to Dog's performance, what the fudge O_O)

•Black Widow- dang the twirking and the voice is just give me the face like this O.O . she looks edgy and cool, I don't know whether she will survived through episodes.

•Penguin- aww a cute Penguin~ pretty small though and goofy as well. I also want her and the Eagle together like seriously! OwO who is with me to the ship train of Eagle x Penguin?

•Leopard- oof!!! Right in the dokoro and I went doki doki to this spontaneous leopard ❤! I I can't stop listening to his performance "Somebody to love" and when I first listened, I am in the middle of confusion and shock then went to fell in loved to this character. All hail the queen (or king?), I have a soft spot to who ever he is.

•Thingamajig- Oof! I've been hit! My man is a living angel from heaven. I loved him so much omg. His voice, his character and I sympathies his clue about his darkest moment when he went to rehab. Protect this baby! I couldn't help but thought of Thingamajig is the cousin of Monster. Who ever he is, I'm going to do a headcanon for both Monster and Thingamajig's relationship as cousins from heaven.

•Egg- I never get tired of this flamboyant, sassy and fabulous egg. I loved him so much omg I can't with his sassy and flamboyant attitude. I have a soft spot of guys with flamboyant glamour and stylish taste of fashion. Johnny Weir, you are my god to worship of your egg boi. Too bad he is no longer on the Masked Singer :(

•Ice Cream- he is such a lovable and adorable dude! I loved sweet, I'm a sweet tooth of course. But my man, he is just so sweet and friendly to watch him. Loved the performance "Old town road" you aren't well trainer enough, but I was blown away to reveal Ninja in this. I didn't know youtubers can be also be called celebrities. I just thought youtubers are just people who wanted to expressed themselves for entertainment normally but I wanna thank my friend to explained me that youtubers can be celebrities too. Nice work Ninja!

My top 3... No top 4 favorite characters for season 2 is: the Egg, the Ice Cream, Thingamajig and Leopard.

#the masked singer human au #the masked singer #my opinion to everyone

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mistyyygoode · 5 years

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AHS Ep 6: Recap/Reactions

Spoilers ahead

I had to look what episode this was bc I can’t remember if we’re on six or seven. Is this the ep Lily’s in? I guess we’re gonna find out. I think it’s the next, but I don’t remember, I’m high half the time

I’m interested to see what hotel they’re at

“Key man” I love that

ITS BEEN A FUCKING YEAR

What the fuck, y’all

I stg if we don’t see Lana (interview Margaret) I’m gonna cry

I’d like to let y’all know, my mom thinks Ryan sold his soul to the devil and that’s why he’s had so much success, tbh, I wouldn’t be surprised

We love Mr Satan

JINGLES SAID: GOODBYE BITCH

Lily’s name didn’t pop up as guest star :(

BROOKE WANTS YOUR BLOOD OH FUCK YALL

MONTANA’S STILL THIRSTY

I love that Xavier is embracing this shit

Y’all I thkught it was gonna be Lana not Margaret

SHE BOUGHT BRIARCLIFF

Oh, why the fuck is Trevor with Margaret

Oh, oof, Margaret is losing it

She’s letting fame go to her head like Lana but with some murder added in

Why do I love Margaret so fucking much. Stab me pls

She’s so fucking smart omg

It’s what’s his face

Oh, shit Brooke is gonna die

Xavier is like bitch I’m done, I’m done. And I love it

Ray is so done

If Brooke sells her soul I’m gonna be so pissed

“Fuck off” YES

I love how fucking crazy Margaret is about this shit

When a show reminds you of a fic, oof

I’m glad Jingles is happy

This is So sweet wtf

Margaret is using Everything she can, omfg y’all

I love Margaret but I kinda hope they kill her?

Why am I actually enjoying this season so much??

I love how Brooke is like fuck u to everyone

Richard is wild, I love it

Margaret said: thanks for taking the shot for me bby

Watch something bad happen and she not die

Oh, she did die, okay

“ANTICLIMACTIC” yeah, just a bit

If his wife and kid is dead I’m gonna be so upset

THATS SO MUCH BLOOD

FUCK NO YALL

IM SO SAD

What the fuck is going on with Brooke

Who brought her back

Oh, my god. Dona get the fuck out of here pls

#ahs spoilers #american horror story #AHS

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kegofglory · 5 years

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Sea Meets Earth (1/1)

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Summary: Modern Neighbors Au.

She presses her lips together into a hard line, trying to figure out why she’s intrigued by this man, her new neighbor. There’s the obvious--he’s incredibly attractive, even at six in the morning in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There’s the fact that she knows he’s an incredible support to her brother and sister-in-law. But mostly, she thinks, it might be that there’s something eerily familiar in his eyes. She can’t really explain it, but she feels a weird sense of understanding when they look at each other.

AO3

---///---

Killian’s knowledge of Emma Swan is incredibly limited. In fact, he knows four things about her.

1. She’s David’s younger sister. 2. She’s a pastry chef. 3. She lives in Boston--or at least, she did live in Boston. 4. She has an eleven-year-old son, Henry.

That’s it. After six years of friendship with David Nolan, and four years of being partners, those are the only facts that he’s collected about her.

He also knows that David loves her deeply and fully, and that he’s crazy protective of her.

That’s what gets him to even mention the soon to be vacant apartment above him in his nice duplex in New York City. Finding real estate in the city is no joke, and he’s only lucky enough to be close friends with his landlord, Nemo.

“So, my upstairs neighbor is moving out in two weeks if you’re still worried about your sister finding a place in the city,” Killian says from his side of the patrol car.

David raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’m not lying, mate,” Killian says.

His partner rolls his eyes. “Has Nemo rented it out yet?”

“No, I mentioned it to him and he said to give you his number to pass along to Emma. It’s a two bedroom one bath, and he’s cheap in terms of New York prices.”

David nods, “Thanks man. I’ll let her know.”

“So, what brings your mysterious sister to the city?” he asks.

Beside him, David’s entire body goes tense. Killian remains silent, allowing his friend some time to respond, if he even wants to. “She just needs to be closer to us, ya know?”

Killian nods. David has always reminded him a lot of Liam. Sometimes, it’s hard, but sometimes, it’s comforting to have someone like Liam in his life. When he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he thinks that Liam sent David his way on purpose.

“Sure. Well, I’ll text his number to you and she can check it out, I guess.”

---///--- “And we have to go to the library, the one on 5th! Mom, it is so cool, and you can probably find all the fairytale books you like there.”

Emma stares down at her son, who is rambling despite the fact that he’s struggling to get a few boxes out of the U-haul.

“Sure, kid. What do you say we at least get these boxes inside first, though?” she says, unable to fight the affectionate laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“Uncle David said we have to go to the Hall of Science. It sounds sooo cool,” he’s still going on, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Kid, relax. We’re going to have time to do all the things, okay?” she says. “Listen, David and Mary Margaret are on their way here, and they’re going to help us with some of Uncle David’s coworkers so we can get this done fast.”

Henry grunts. “I just want us to do it all before we go again.”

Emma stops in her tracks, turning to stare at her son. He looks up at her guiltily.

“Hey, Henry. Put that box down, come here,” she mumbles, grabbing his hand and leading him to their new front porch steps. Thankfully, according to her brother, their new downstairs neighbor is apparently out of town, so she doesn’t have to worry about bothering him as they noisily move everything into the upstairs unit.

“I didn’t mean it,” Henry mutters, sitting down beside her.

“It’s okay if you did. I know I’ve moved us around a bit too much in the past,” Emma says, rubbing her lips together as her son nods sadly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mom, it’s fine. This is only our third move,” he says, sounding way too adult, as always. “I know it’s because you needed to do it.”

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “We’re here to stay. We’re not going anywhere for awhile, so I hope you like it here.”

He smiles. “I’m going to love it if you do, mom,” he says.

That’s really all it takes for tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. She sighs, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles, and like clockwork, David pulls into her drive with his wife and two large men from work.

She approaches his truck, watching the strangers pile out. “Hi guys. I’m Emma and I’m also eternally grateful you’re all here to help. I’ve supplied all the pizza and all the beer upstairs in the fridge.”

The tall man laughs, stretching his hand out to her. “It’s no worries. I’m Robin, and this is Jefferson,” he says.

She shakes both of their hands, smiling kindly as they head toward the u-haul.

David is about to wrap his sister into a hug but is interrupted when Mary Margaret practically pushes him into the bushes, running to wrap Emma into a tight hug.

“It’s so good to finally have you here,” her sister-in-law cries into her ear.

There’s something that is so consistently warm and welcoming about Mary Margaret that makes Emma feel at home for the first time since arriving to this bustling city.

David groans, “Let’s get unpacking, girls. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can take Emma and Henry to Granny’s.”

At this, Henry perks up visibly, well aware of the diner that they go to every time Henry and Emma visit. “Do they still have those onion rings?”

“Of course they do,” David says, chuckling as he leads the way to the truck.

And Emma finds that, throughout the day, her stomach begins to hurt less and less. Maybe she is home, at least for awhile.

---///---

Killian has lived in the same duplex for eight years, and he’s never had much of a relationship with the tenants that have lived above him. There are instances where he sees them, of course. He has a beautiful front porch, where both of their entry doors are located, and the tenants upstairs get a lovely balcony right above his porch.

He figures it will probably be the same with Emma and her boy.

The first night he gets back from his trip, it’s late and he can see the light upstairs shining through the window, along with a yellow bug sitting on the street in front of the house. Killian laughs when he sees the car and shrugs, entering his apartment and heading straight to bed.

Any Sunday morning that Killian is lucky enough to have off, he sticks to the same routine. He wakes up as early as he can and enjoys the sunrise sitting on his porch swing with a cup of coffee. He’s done it for as long as he can remember. Even as a child, Liam would wake him up and take him outside, where they’d sit in the grass and watch in silence.

After his trip to go visit Elsa this past week, he finds his mind wandering to a dark, sad place a little more often than usual. Elsa was Liam’s best friend, his soulmate, and he tries to make an effort to go see her at least once a month.

His heart hurts, though, when he leaves. She always wants to revel in the memories of Liam. His kindness, his loyalty, his morals. It’s nice, because she’s the only person on this planet that loved Liam as much as he did. At the same time, it forces a lot of thoughts to the front and center of his brain,

Like how his brother practically raised him while his alcoholic father did absolutely nothing, or how it was always their dream to one day go back home to London and visit all the places their mother wrote about in her old journals.

Or how he knows that Liam would want more for Killian than what he settles for now.

An unfamiliar voice pulls him from this dangerous road, though. “Mom! Mary Margaret called me and asked why you’re ignoring her texts,” a young voice calls. Killian looks up. They must be on the balcony. If he stood up and walked forward a few feet, he’d be able to see. But, that would be creepy, so he stays seated.

A feminine laugh sounds, and he raises an eyebrow out of instinct.

“I didn’t consider that moving to New York meant I’d be even closer to the two most controlling people I’ve ever met,” she says. Her son laughs in response.

“Should I tell her what we’re doing today?” he asks.

“No, kid. It’s our day. Just tell her we’re busy,” she says, and she sounds a little guilty.

“Good, because we can just meet them later anyways. We should go explore on our own. But mom--”

“Henry,” she cuts him off, chuckling. “If you tell me the hall of science opens at ten one more time, I’m going to go back to sleep until noon just to spite you.”

Killian can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto his face. The domestic familiarity between the two makes his heart swell.

“It’s nine, mom! What if there’s traffic? What if there’s a line to get in?”

He hears footsteps above him. “Okay, okay. I’m jumping in the shower. We will leave in twenty minutes. Can you go, like, complain about being up early on a Sunday or something like a normal kid?”

“Normal? But you’re the one that raised me this way,” Henry jokes and then their voices grow quieter. And Killian wonders for the first time what Emma Swan’s story is.

David keeps his stories about her close to his chest. He can see the love and pride in his eyes every time he brings his sister up, but he never shares many details. And Killian never pushes, because that’s how their friendship has always worked. David has returned the favor tenfold, allowing him to talk about his childhood only as much as he felt comfortable.

It’s a half hour later when Killian almost done with his coffee and the front door swings open to reveal a young boy with brown hair and a blue backpack on his shoulders. “Mom!” he calls up the stairs before turning and noticing Killian.

“Oh, hello! Sorry for shouting,” he says and Killian laughs.

“It’s quite alright, lad,” he says, standing up and approaching the young boy. “I’m Killian Jones. I’m guessing you’re Henry?”

Henry grins. “You’re Uncle David’s partner?” he asks, reaching forward to shake his hand. The manners in the young boy remind him of David. Or Liam.

“Yes, that I am,” he replies, shaking the young boy’s hand. “How are you liking the city?”

Henry shrugs. “It’s pretty cool, but we haven’t had a chance to do anything other any unpack and organize. Mom and I are sneaking out into the city today.”

“Sneaking out?” he asks.

Henry nods, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “Uncle David and Aunt Snow said that on our first free day they want to take us on a tour,” he says.

“First of all,” he ticks off one finger. “Aunt Snow?”

Henry chuckles, and his nose scrunches up. “My mom always calls her Snow White… you know… because she’s kind of like a nice princess,” he explains.

Killian barks a laugh at this. “Very fitting. And two, do you guys not want to go on a tour?”

Henry looks around nervously, like he’s sharing a top secret. “My mom and I like to do things on our own, sometimes. Every time we move somewhere or go on a vacation, we take the first day just us to explore whatever we want. No itinerary. We don’t want to hurt Aunt Snow or Uncle David’s feelings so we’re keeping it a secret.”

Henry’s face is bright as he explains this tradition to Killian, and it brings a genuine smile to his face. It’s obvious that Emma is this boy’s hero.

“Sounds like a good tradition to uphold,” Killian says.

Before Henry can respond, though, the door swings open again to reveal a blonde, her fingers wrapped tightly around a black thermos full of what he only assumes is coffee.

She looks at her son, then her green eyes land on Killian, and he has to physically take a step back at the intensity in her gaze.

She smiles tightly, turning to Henry and handing him the thermos, her hair falling around her in waves. “You have extra cinnamon in your backpack, right?”

He nods. “Of course.”

She turns back to Killian, and her smile is a little more open now, though her eyes are still electric and curious.

“Mom, this is Killian, Uncle David’s partner,” he says, clearly unaware of the effect that his mother is having on his ability to speak or even breathe.

“I’m Emma Swan. I’ve heard tons about you,” she says, extending her hand forward.

He clears his throat. “That can’t be good,” he jokes.

She laughs, and it’s beautiful. He wants to hear it again.

“Please, it’s David. He has a hard time finding a bad thing to say about anyone. I’ve only heard good things.”

He smiles, trying to think of anything to say. For some reason, he knows the charm and bravado he normally relies on won’t work with her.

Before he can even formulate a response, she turns and locks her front door. “Well, we’re off. See ya around,” she says.

Henry grins. “Bye Killian!”

“Bye, lad. See you around, Swan,” he says, the words falling off his lips before he can think about it. She whips her head around to look at him, wonder in her eyes, before she nods and leads her son to her little yellow car.

It’s not until they speed off that Killian can even out his breathing again. He swallows hard, shaking his head. Fuck. He doesn’t need this kind of distraction right now.

---///---

A week goes by without Emma seeing Killian, and she thinks that’s probably for the best. She had to make a conscious effort not to think about him on her entire day with Henry last weekend. Something about his eyes, his smile, his… something, got under her skin. In a wonderful, terrifying way.

It’s the following Sunday that she sees him again. She opens her door to leave at 5:45 in the morning when he makes his presence known.

“Good morning, Swan,” he says, and she jumps, letting out an embarrassing yelp. She turns to see him sitting on his porch swing.

“Fuck,” she mutters, placing her hand over her racing heart. “You scared me.”

“My apologies,” he says, though he’s wearing an amused smile. “I’m just surprised you’re up so early.”

She laughs, leaning against the wood pillar and she takes a sip from her coffee cup. “I work in a bakery, Jones, so this is a normal hour for me.”

His eyes brighten when she sarcastically calls him by his last name. He stands, and she watches the swing move back and forth as he steps into her space. She doesn’t step back though, just looks up at him knowingly.

“Oh yes, you’re a pastry chef. Tell me, what’s your specialty?” he asks, raising a suggestive eyebrow. She can feel his breath on her face.

She smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asks, surprising herself when she holds his gaze.

“Perhaps I would,” he returns, and her whole body warms at the way he looks at her.

“If you hear a child screaming violently, it’s most likely my son playing video games, just so you know,” she says, changing the subject to something safe.

He laughs at this. “Good to know.”

“Don’t worry, though. David and Snow are coming to get him at nine for breakfast,” she says.

He shakes his head. “I’m not worried.” He dips his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she has to force herself to breathe normally.

She clears her throat. “I’d better go. Have a good day,” she says.

“I’d say it’s off to a pretty great start, love,” he says.

She rolls her eyes, turning around before he can see the smile on her face.

---///---

Killian is pacing a hole into his floor at nine when there’s a knock at his door. He sighs, swinging the door open to reveal David, Mary Margaret and Henry all smiling brightly at him.

Jesus Christ.

“Hello,” he drawls out awkwardly.

Mary Margaret giggles. “We’re going to go get breakfast. Would you like to join?”

Killian raises an eyebrow. His only plan for the day was to sit in his apartment and wonder why he has no control over his actions when Emma’s around. This seems like a better alternative.

“Sure,” he says, slipping some shoes on. “Where to?”

“Grannys, of course!” Henry practically cheers. “And we’re going to surprise my mom and bring her some hot chocolate.”

Killian stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure if he should join. David looks at Killian suspiciously and he can even feel Mary Margaret’s curious eyes on him.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says breezily before anyone can question him

Henry grins. “Awesome! Have you been to Granny’s, Killian?”

The entire walk to Granny’s is filled with mindless chatter, mostly on Henry’s part, and he can’t help but notice the looks that Mary Margaret and David keep exchanging.

“I hate when you guys do that,” Killian says suddenly, staring at his best friend.

David feigns confusion. “Do what?”

“Have conversations with each other without speaking,” he mumbles.

Henry laughs loudly at this. “You guys do actually do that. It’s really weird,” he agrees.

Killian looks at the married couple, pointing at Henry as if that’s proof enough.

“Whatever, Henry. Don’t act like you and your mother don’t have a second language of your own. Half the time, I need a translator just to keep up,” David replies, laughing.

“At least we actually talk, though,” Henry counters. “You guys don’t even say words… just stare at each other.”

Mary Margaret scoffs, glaring at Killian. “Do you see what you’ve started!?”

He laughs fully, shaking his head as he enters Granny’s.

The lunch carries on like that. The conversation is easy and Henry’s kindness and intelligence continues to shock him.

Henry happily leaves with the to go hot chocolate in his hands. “Come on, Killian. My mom’s work is only a block away,” Henry calls, running to catch up to Mary Margaret and David, who are holding hands and giggling together a few feet ahead of them.

Killian starts to get nervous, though. He already feels like a fool when he sees Emma at their house. He knows the moment David sees Killian look at Emma, he’ll know what’s going on.

Henry swings the door open, and Killian looks up at the sign. Blackbird Baking Co.

The bell on the door chimes, and Emma looks up, her face brightening obviously when she sees her family. She grins, wiping her hands on her red apron.

“Hi guys. Couldn’t handle one morning without me?” she asks before her eyes land on Killian. Her mouth opens slightly, surprise crossing her face for a millisecond before she schools her features.

“We brought you hot chocolate with cinnamon,” Henry says proudly, and Emma’s face changes suddenly.

It takes Killian by surprise, the way every single part of her softens when she engages with her son. She smiles, taking the cup from him and shooting him a wink.

“Best kid in the world,” she says.

“Hey, I paid for it,” David calls out defensively, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Best brother in the world,” she deadpans. “I see you guys have dragged my neighbor out with you today,” she nods at Killian, who’s still standing a bit behind the other three.

“It’s so nice that the two people we love most in this city live in the same house. Makes life so much easier,” Mary Margaret says.

Emma laughs, walking around the counter and wrapping an arm around Henry.

“So, I was thinking…” Mary Margaret starts nervously, and Emma smirks.

“Yes?” she asks knowingly.

“I was thinking we could have a housewarming party? We’ll plan it on a night that Killian’s off, so we don’t have to worry about disturbing him with the noise, and so that he can be there, of course! And we can invite all of our friends so you can get to know them.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I should be surprised it took you this long to suggest such a thing.”

David chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Mary Margaret’s head affectionately. “I had to really compromise with her on this. She wanted to do it the night you arrived.”

Even Killian laughs at this, and Emma’s eyes dart to him. He smiles kindly, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on her for too long.

“I don’t think I stand much a chance stopping you so okay, Snow. Just… try to keep it lowkey,” she says, dragging her eyes back to Mary Margaret.

“I can be lowkey,” Mary Margaret counters, looking at her husband, who is smirking.

“Sure, honey,” he agrees sarcastically and Henry laughs loudly.

“Well, I think it sounds nice. Mom, you need some friends in your life.”

Emma’s jaw drops, turning to glare playfully at her son. “I have friends!”

She rolls her eyes when Killian, David, and Mary Margaret all begin laughing at the exchange.

“These two don’t count, they’re family,” he says, jabbing his thumb toward his aunt and uncle. “And I don’t count either.”

Emma presses her lips together and motions toward Killian. “He’s my friend.”

“Really?” Henry asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doubtful. I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time with him than you have, mom.”

Killian can’t help but raise his eyebrows at Emma when she glances over at him. “The lad’s got a point, Swan. When are you going to come downstairs and hang out with me. I can play video games, too,” he says, and although his voice is teasing, David’s head whips toward Killian immediately.

“You’ve never invited me, Jones. Next time Henry and I have a Super Mario showdown, though, we’ll yell for you.”

He grins widely at her. “I’d be honored to join.”

Mary Margaret giggles lightly, and he doesn’t miss the knowing look she shoots Emma. Or the way Emma shoots a glare back.

Okay, so maybe the silent conversation thing is more of a Mary Margaret thing.

“We’ll let you get back to work, Em,” David says finally. “We’ll see you later though.”

“Thanks for feeding my child, guys,” she says.

“I can fend for myself, you know,” Henry cuts in. “I’m eleven.”

Emma just rolls her eyes, her free hand landing on her son’s shoulder. “You’re practically an adult. See you this afternoon, kid.”

“Are you going to bring home any extra pastries?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he looks at the brownies in the display case behind her.

She rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, guys,” she calls and they all turn to leave.

And try as he might, Killian still turns around to get another look at her, and to his surprise, she’s watching him as well.

“See ya later, friend,” he says, and her eyes widen, shaking her head.

“Goodbye, Jones.”

---///---

“So, how is it living under my sister and nephew?” David asks the next day when they are finishing up paperwork at the end of their shift.

Killian shrugs. “Fine. I don’t see much of them, really,” he says quickly, refusing to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“Yeah, that makes sense. You know, you and Emma are eerily similar. I never really thought about it before.”

“Oh, are we?” Killian asks. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

David laughs, and Killian realizes he has said too much. “And why is that?”

Killian rolls his eyes. He’s not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed by his best friend. “I just don’t see it, is all.”

David hums. “Okay. Sure. Just, be careful,” he says.

Killian raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. He wants this conversation to end yesterday.

David leans back in his chair, the squeaking cutting through the tension. “Killian,” he says quietly.

Finally, Killian looks up. When he meets his friend’s eyes, though, he’s surprised to see genuine sincerity etched into his features. “What is it, mate?” Killian asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

There’s so much love in David’s heart, and he’s always wondered what David even saw in him. When Killian met David, he was in the worst place of his life. It was right after his brother had died. Killian and David met at the precinct on Killian’s first day, which was a month after Liam’s death. He was a right prick at the time, spending every day off hiding in his bedroom and drinking himself to sleep.

David didn’t even know what was going on, but he just seemed to sense that Killian needed someone. So he continuously invited him over for dinner with his wife. Killian declined every time, honestly getting annoyed that the man would not let up.

Then, one day, after a particularly rough shift, David walked up to him and told him they were going to the bar. Seeing as that was much more Killian’s speed, he agreed. David was terrible at holding his liquor, and Killian got plastered as well. Mary Margaret came to pick them up at closing time, and she basically tucked him into bed in their guest room.

The next morning, nursing a hangover, David stood in front of him and said something that Killian will never forget. He said, “I know there’s a lot of good in you. Sometimes, the darkness seems insurmountable, but it’s not. You are better than this, and I’m going to keep harassing you and trying to help you no matter how mad it makes you, Killian.”

Then Mary Margaret made him breakfast and coffee and when he left she hugged him so tightly. He didn’t even know a hug could carry so much emotion.

The rest was history. They basically took him in as their adopted child and he wouldn’t change a thing about it.

When it came to Emma, David always seemed to get that same look in his eyes that he had when he lectured Killian that morning.

David sighs, pulling Killian from his thoughts. “She can use a friend like you,” he says, his words measured.

Killian nods gravely, and David nods before he looks away and changes the subject to a case they’re working on.

---///---

Emma’s leaning against the ledge of her balcony when she spots Killian walking up the sidewalk. She ignores the ridiculous way her stomach lurches, and before she can control it, she’s calling his name. He looks up and smiles so brightly it almost blinds her, even with the distance and the darkness surrounding him.

“How are you still up, Swan? Don’t you work at the crack of dawn?” he calls, stopping in the grass and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have a hard time sleeping,” she admits. “Are you just getting off work?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah. David and I had to work the once a month 10am to 10pm today.”

“Yuck,” she says. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

For some reason, Emma doesn’t want to let this conversation to die. She feels so much safer with the distance between them, like she can let her guard down and just chat as herself.

He seems to sense this, smiling softly at her. “I also have a hard time sleeping, so it’ll be awhile before I finally fall asleep.”

She nods, looking up at the moon for a minute when she can’t find anything to say.

“So, love, what’s on your mind this evening?” he asks, and she sighs.

“Just thinking about Henry,” she replies honestly. He raises an eyebrow at her in surprise, waiting for her to elaborate. “He’s just so grown up… sometimes, it makes me sad.”

“How so?” he questions, his voice free of any judgement.

Emma leans forward more, trying to get a better look at his face. He’s so beautiful. She’s never described and grown man as beautiful, but looking at him, it’s all she can think.

“I hope he didn’t feel the need to grow up too fast, you know? He deserves a chance to just be a kid,” she explains.

He nods slowly. “I don’t know the lad that well, but if you want my opinion, I’d say that Henry is just a smart, mature kid. I don’t think it’s due to some emotional trauma. He seems like he gets a lot of his qualities from you.”

She scoffs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Trust me, love. It’s not a bad thing.”

She smiles despite herself. “Thanks,,” she says so softly that she’d assume he couldn’t hear her if it weren’t for the next words out of his mouth.

“No worries. Would you like to come down and sit on the porch or should we continue this Romeo & Juliet scenario here?” he asks, and even she can hear the nerves in his voice.

And she wants to say sure.

Yes.

That’s what normal people do.

He watches her carefully as she thinks to herself. “I should probably try to get some sleep, but raincheck,” she says.

And all she can think is she’s such a chicken. He nods, looking a little disappointed.

“Sweet dreams, Swan,” he calls before walking toward the house and out of her view.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself before heading inside and she definitely does not have sweet dreams about the man living below her.

---///---

It takes Mary Margaret only three days to plan and organize Emma’s housewarming party. She sends David and Killian out to pick up ice, because according to Mary Margaret, there’s no such thing as too much ice. They dropped Henry off at a new friends house on the way, which is giving Emma enough anxiety to last her the rest of the night.

In the meantime, Emma helps her sister-in-law set up. And by help, she means does exactly as instructed.

“So,” Mary Margaret starts, trailing off.

Emma knows that voice well. She has heard it about a hundred times in her life. Mary Margaret came into their lives when Emma was sixteen, and they’ve always been able to read each other.

“What is it, Snow?” she asks.

“I was just thinking,” she starts, keeping her focus on the cheese tray she’s assembling, “You know, Killian is a really good guy.”

“Oh shit,” Emma says immediately. “This was bound to happen, I guess.”

Mary Margaret snorts. “I’m just saying. He’s cute, and he’s nice, and Henry seems to like him.”

“So, should we get married tomorrow then?” Emma asks sarcastically, pulling a beer out of the fridge even though they still have two hours before the party begins.

“In my ideal world, sure,” Mary Margaret teases. “Seriously, Em, I’m just saying. We love Killian and I happen to think you are at least a little intrigued.”

“I don’t know what gives you that idea,” Emma mutters, taking a long swig from her beer as she avoids eye contact with her sister-in-law.

“I saw the weird way you looked at him when we came to the bakery the other day. It was… different. I’ve never seen your eyes look like that before.”

Emma clears her throat, shaking her head. Thankfully, the boys choose the perfect moment to return home. “Thank God,” Emma mumbles, much to Mary Margaret’s chagrin.

“Okay,” David says as soon she he opens her door. “So when Killian and I were trying to do a shot of rum earlier we were sent out of the house to keep out of trouble, but Emma can start drinking beer at six?” he asks.

Killian laughs, walking into the house and smiling. “It’s nice up here, Swan,” he says, eyeing the picture frames on her mantle. She feels exposed, the way he stares at her family photos with obvious interest.

“Thanks,” she says breezily. “And it’s my party, so I say we all start drinking now,” she says.

David grins, setting the ice into the kooler before placing a quick kiss on Emma’s cheek. “What a good host you are,” he says.

Mary Margaret groans. “Actually, Emma. You’ve never had the displeasure of seeing these two when they drink together. It’s in everyone best interest that they hold off.”

Emma barks out a laugh at that. “Okay, that’s something I want to see. Last time I drank with David was, like, four years ago,” she says before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Remember, David! You fell asleep on my porch and my neighbor called the cops because they thought you were homeless.”

Killian’s eyebrows immediately shoot skyward, and even Mary Margaret giggles.

“It was your birthday and we were supposed to take you out on the town,” Mary Margaret reminisces.

“We didn’t even make it out of my apartment thanks to David,” she says between her laughter. She glances over at Killian to see him watching her with a new look in his eyes.

What is that? Curiosity? Surprise? She can’t quite tell.

“He is quite the lightweight,” Killian adds, and Emma beams at him.

“I can’t have this conversation with either of you,” David groans. “You both have super human tolerance.”

“Is that so, Swan?”

Emma raises her beer toward him. “It is so,” she replies, smiling mischievously at him.

He chuckles. “Seems like you’re challenging me,” he mumbles.

She shrugs innocently, walking into the kitchen and retrieving a beer from the fridge. “Cheap beer work?” she asks.

He smirks. “It’s not rum, but it’ll do,” he replies.

Mary Margaret snorts. “Knowing Emma, there’s a flask of rum somewhere around this house.”

David chuckles lightly as Emma rolls her eyes. “Maybe,” she mutters, handing Killian the beer. He leans it toward her and grins.

“Cheers, love.” He stares at her is a way that is so disarming that she has to break eye contact, tapping the bottleneck to his before taking a long swig. She walks away immediately, unable to take the unnerving way that he seems to read her face more easily than anyone else in her life.

David observes them, making a weird hum under his breath that she decidedly ignores. “Okay, so I’m going to take a shower and get ready so that I can look presentable for the people that arrive,” Emma announces, leaving out the part where she just needs to put a physical wall between herself and Killian.

Mary Margaret chuckles. “Okay, Em… are you taking that beer into the shower with you?”

Emma shrugs, “I don’t see why not. I’ve got a lot of socializing ahead of me. I’ll need it.”

Killian laughs. “Besides, she’s gotta keep up with me tonight,” he cut in.

David claps a hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “It will probably be you keeping up with her, bud.”

Before Emma can hear his most likely charming response, she slips into the bathroom and turns the water on, sighing loudly when she can finally catch her breath.

Something about being around Killian and her family at the same time throws Emma for a loop. Because she loves the way he fits into her life seamlessly. And she can’t show that, because Mary Margaret and David will see right through her, and she doesn’t need the typical lectures that they tend to lovingly dole out. It’s always well intentioned, but it makes Emma feels so broken.

If anyone is aware that Emma has some serious issues, it’s her. Her family trying to psychoanalyze her just makes her feel guilty for things out of her control.

She stands under cold water first, silently counting to herself as she tries to pull herself together. Then she turns the faucet all the way to the left, the water suddenly burning her skin. She stands there until her skin turns red, and then turns the water off.

“Okay,” she whispers, staring at herself in the mirror. She quickly dries her hair and gets ready for the night ahead of her.

When she finally exits the bathroom, there’s a new beer sitting on the counter right outside the door. She looks around but Killian, David, and Mary Margaret are nowhere to be found. She allows herself to laugh quietly, bringing the beer to her lips before heading to her room to change.

Emma gets thrown around between David and Mary Margaret like a ping pong ball, both of them tugging her in different directions of her own home to meet their friends.

She smiles and does her best to make small talk, even though it’s never been her strong suit. This isn’t exactly her idea of a fun night, but it makes two of the most important people in her life very happy, so she sucks it up. After everything they’ve done for her in this life, she figures she owes them.

The best part of her night comes from Killian, which is irritatingly not surprising. While she gets stuck in several conversations with strangers, he sneaks behind her and replaces her empty beers with new ones. Most people don’t even notice the sneaky exchange, but she smiles and bites back laughter every time.

The fifth time he does this, she’s engaged in an awkward conversation with a kind man that goes by Archie. She meets Killians eyes over Archie’s shoulder, and he’s smirking at her knowingly from across the room. He raises his own beer toward her before returning to his conversation with Robin.

Finally, Mary Margaret and David are distracted enough in the corner of her living room that she can breathe. She makes her way toward Killian, who is staring down at his phone.

“If I didn’t know any better, Jones, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk,” she says, and he jumps. He beams at her, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“I’m just trying to see who can outdrink who. Killian Jones never backs down from a challenge,” he says, his blue eyes dancing.

“I have an idea,” she says suddenly. He does that outrageous thing with his eyebrows that makes her stomach clench, but she does her best to power through. “Follow me,” she says.

He nods, “As you wish, love,” he says quietly, and she ignores the way his low voice makes her skin feel as if it’s on fire.

She looks around to make sure no one is looking, and when she’s satisfied, she opens her bedroom door and pulls him in with her.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, Swan, I have to say, I definitely think I’m holding my alcohol better than you if you’re already drunk enough to drag me into your bedroom.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Shut up,” she muters. “I’m looking for something.”

“Is it your inhibitions?”

She doesn’t justify his question with an answer, reaching into her sock drawer, digging around the back until her hand meets something metal.

“A-ha!” she shouts, producing her flask from the drawer and waving it in his face. “I do have rum in here,” she says.

“I’m impressed,” he says, eyeing her carefully as she twists the cap on and takes a long pull. She squeezes her eyes shut as the rum burns her throat on the way down. She hands it to him and he takes an appreciative shot.

She smiles. “Hold onto that, would you. My pockets aren’t big enough,” she says, heading back to her door.

“We’re leaving already? I think we can find something to do in here, don’t you?” he questions, and his voice is teasing, but his eyes are dark.

“Come on,” she groans, putting her hands on his shoulders and half pushing him back out of her room. She pretends that the simple act of placing her hands on his body doesn’t send a chill down her spine. And she’s pretty sure he pretends not to notice.

As if her spidey senses are tingling, Mary Margaret sees them as soon as they exit her bedroom. Emma rolls her eyes at the look that crosses her sister-in-law’s face, shaking her head. Killian chuckles beside her and Emma sighs.

“Em!” David calls out, timing perfect as ever. “Come here, I want you to meet my sergeant.”

Emma bites back her groan, leaving Killian’s side to meet yet another face who’s name she will most likely forget by the end of the evening.

The night flies by like that, and she hardly gets another chance to talk to Killian. When she finally sees him again, the party is winding down and Emma is only slightly buzzed, the constant socialization very sobering.

She walks over to Killian, who is sitting on her couch talking to Robin again. “Hey guys,” she says, falling onto the couch beside him. She notices him tense slightly when her arm brushes against his, so she scoots away a bit.

“How are you liking it here, Emma?” Robin asks kindly, and Emma smiles politely. She’s only had to answer this question a dozen times this evening. But she’s aware they all mean well.

“I like it a lot. My neighbor is a little strange but that’s to be expected in a big city I suppose,” she says, and Killian scoffs from beside her.

Robin chuckles, “I work with the guy… you don’t have to tell me how strange he is.”

“Alright,” Kilian cuts in. “Enough of this.”

Emma giggles, and for the first time all night, she feels comfortable. She doesn’t think about how she feels most comfortable sitting beside Killian. Robin says his goodbyes and leaves.

She closes her eyes, resting her head back against the couch cushion.

“Thanks for making tonight bearable, Killian,” she says quietly. She hears him move, feels his arm against hers, and she opens her eyes, turning to find that he’s looking at her with soft eyes. “What?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name,” he says.

Before she can respond, Mary Margaret is back and she’s talking a mile a minute. Killian clears his throat, scooting away ever so slightly. His absence leaves her feeling cold.

The party comes to an end, and Killian leaves after a quick goodbye. She glances back at him when he leaves, sighing when the door shuts and she’s left alone with David and Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret seems to read her face, but glances at David and doesn’t say anything.

They clean everything up, and David and Mary Margaret end up falling asleep on couch. She smiles to herself when she looks at the couple, cuddled together. Then she locks the door, turns off the lights, and puts herself to sleep.

---///---

She can hear Henry rambling on and on from the top of the steps as she locks their door. She assumes he’s talking to Killian on his porch, and her heart pounds in anticipation.

She takes the steps down slowly, biting back her smile as she reaches the porch. She stops short when she sees a beautiful redhead speaking to her son.

“Oh, hi,” Emma says, and she doesn’t mean to sound short, but she can hear how clipped her tone is.

Her arms are full of brown bags filled with groceries. “Hi, hi,” she says, struggling to keep everything in her arms. “I’m just trying to help Killy. Sometimes I surprise him by leaving actual real groceries in his home. I know he gets busy, you know, but having real nutritious food in your kitchen makes life so much easier. Especially when he’s too good of a cook to not have groceries stocked up here. He says I’m overbearing but I think deep down he appreciates it.”

Henry laughs, taking a couple bags from her hands. Emma watches as the woman digs into her pocket and pulls out her keys, fishing out of the one for Killian’s front door quickly.

“Thanks so much,” she says to Henry once she swings the door open. “You’re a real gentlemen.”

Her son smiles, beaming at Emma as he follows her inside and sets the bags down for her. Emma stays on the porch, the idea of stepping into Killian’s apartment without him present making her feel strange.

Henry and the stranger walk back out to the porch and Henry readjusts his backpack. The girl smiles. “I’m Anna. You must be Killian’s new upstairs neighbor,” she says.

“Emma,” she says tightly. “This is Henry. I’m sorry, but we have to get to my brother’s. We are going to be late.”

“Oh, David? Ugh I love David. And Mary Margaret. Talk about a match made in heaven, right?”

Emma raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yep, a real fairytale,” she says. “Nice meeting you,” she says before practically dragging a smiling Henry to her yellow bug.

“Why were you so rude to that girl?” Henry asks, but his tone is smug and knowing. Emma shoots him a look as she starts her car.

“I wasn’t rude, kid. We really are running late.”

“We’re always running late. What’s the big deal with today?” he asks. He’s staring out the window, trying to sound more casual than he actually is.

Emma laughs despite herself, swallowing down the irrational anger and jealousy as she pulls into traffic. “I just don’t want to hear it from them today, is all.”

“Sure,” Henry says breezily, not quite able to cover up the laugh in his voice.

---///---

Killian should not be surprised by the way his sisters-in-law both feel the need to insert themselves into his life, playing mother when he has never asked. He laughs when he walks into his apartment to find it stocked with groceries. He knows Elsa is out of town for work, so he falls down onto his couch before he calls Anna.

“Oh, hello Killy!” she greets happily.

“You know I’m capable of doing my own shopping, correct?” he asks lightly.

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Yes, I am. You know that I love you and just want to help you because I know your job is stressful and keeps you very busy, correct?”

“How’s Kristoff?” he asks, because he and Anna have had this conversation so many times it has honestly gotten old at this point.

“He’s good. How’s your neighbor?” she counters, her voice mischievous.

Her question gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I met her today when I was bringing in your groceries. She is stunning, Killian! And her son is adorable and kind.”

He doesn’t know why he gets so tense, but he does. “They’re both very nice, yeah,” he says vaguely.

Anna snorts. “Emma wasn’t very nice, actually. But I suppose she didn’t know I was your sister-in-law and therefore got a little jealous. I should have mentioned it, but it slipped my mind. I can relate though. Back in college, I saw this girl talking to Kristoff and I literally lost my mind. It was kind of crazy, since I had only just broken up with Hans. I had no right to be jealous and yet I was. Turns out, it was his cousin. Also, it turns out, you can’t control your irrational anger.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Trust me, Emma was not jealous. She is just a little standoff-ish at first. She’s quite nice once you get to know her, though,” he says, because there’s no way she could have been jealous.

“Hmm, that sounds familiar,” she says innocently.

“Anna,” he groans, rubbing over his face with his hand in frustration.

She giggles. “What, I was talking about Elsa,” she says, but her tone says otherwise.

“Thanks for the food, Anna. I’ll see you and Elsa next weekend,” he says, and she laughs knowingly before she hangs up.

He left his front door open, the screen door closed, letting in the beautiful breeze. It also lets in the noise of Emma and Henry as they walk up the sidewalk.

“Mom,” he whines, and Killian feels affection well up in his chest.

“Henry,” she whines back mockingly. Her son giggles. “Listen, kid,” she says. “You’re right. I’m a big jerk. We’re going to move on and I’ll be better in the future.”

Killian raises an eyebrow, standing up to head out to his porch.

He swings the door open, and Emma’s eyes widen for a split second before she schools her features to her normal guarded look.

“Hey,” she says easily, although there is tension in her tone.

Henry clears his throat. “See ya later, Killian!” he says before heading upstairs to their apartment. Emma glares after her son’s retreating figure before returning her attention to him.

“How are you today Swan?” he asks.

She leans against the front of his porch, looking him over quickly. “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Good,” he says. He eyes her carefully, considers her tight smile and distant eyes. “I heard you met Anna earlier.”

“Yep,” she says shortly. “She’s great.”

Killian bites back his smile as he watches her cold eyes avoid his. Oh. Oh. She is jealous, at least a little bit. He wants to let this go on, but decides to let her off the hook. “Yeah. She’s intense but she’s my sister-in-law so what can you do?”

He knows he’s not imagining the way her shoulder slump with relief.

“Sister-in-law?” she asks casually.

He nods, full on smirking now. “I’ve got two of them, actually. They’re incredibly overbearing but I love them anyways,” he says.

She crosses her arms over her chest, smiling slightly. “Oh.”

“Is it possible that you were feeling a bit jealous?”

He’s grinning playfully at her, and she rolls her eyes, sending him a glare. “I have nothing to be jealous of.”

He nods. “I don’t know, love. You seem quite green with envy to me.”

“You wish,” she mumbles, adjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder and glancing at her front door, likely plotting her escape.

“Sorry to upset you, Emma, but you’re something of an open book.”

She finally does look at him, really looks at him, and her eyes are exploring his, searching for something. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she softens slightly.

“I wasn’t jealous,” she says, but it’s teasing now. “See you later.”

She opens her front door and that smile she sends him gives him the courage to reach for her upper arm. She stops, turning to look at him.

“Are you and Henry doing anything for dinner tonight?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Nothing more than mac and cheese on the couch, why?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got all these groceries. Why don’t you guys come down for dinner? We can enjoy it on the porch. It’s going to start cooling down soon.”

She smiles slightly. “You don’t have to cook us dinner.”

He shakes his head. “I know, but I’d like to.”

She sighs, pursing her lips together as she thinks. “What time?”

He claps his hands together happily. “Ah! I knew I could tempt you! It will be ready by seven, my lady.”

She shoots him a look of amusement, shaking her head. “You’re so weird, Jones,” she mutters, but he only smiles wider at her. She turns away, but she glances back at him before heading upstairs, and her eyes are dancing.

---///---

Henry only asks Emma about twenty questions about her and Killian, why he’s making them dinner, he must like her, and does she like him, he’s so cool, before she gets him downstairs by seven.

“Just--kid--stop asking these questions,” she says in a hushed tone as they stand outside his front door on his porch. “He’s just being nice.”

“That’s because he likes you, mom,” Henry whines, but the door swings open to reveal a smiling Killian before she can respond.

And he’s beaming at the two of them. “Ah, Swan! Henry! Just in time!” he practically shouts, and Henry rushes right past him, exploring Killian’s apartment as if he’s searching for hidden treasure.

“Wow, cool!” Henry says, pointing at a ship in a bottle that’s sitting on Killian’s mantle. “It’s like a pirate lives here!”

Killian barks a laugh at that, and Emma shakes her head at her son.

“Yeah, we’ve got a regular Captain Hook on our hands,” Emma deadpans, taking a step further into the apartment. Blacks, greys, and whites surround her. Photos of him with friends or family are framed around his living room, along with nautical themed decor. The place screams Killian, and it makes Emma smile without even realizing it.

He creeps up behind her. “I hope you guys like pasta carbonara,” he says before brushing past her. She tries to ignore the way goosebumps rise along the back of her neck when she feels his breath on her.

“Do you want me to set the table?” she asks, watching as he whizzes around his kitchen with ease. He shakes his head at her.

“I’ve got dinner all set up on the porch, love. You and Henry go sit, I’ll be right out.”

Henry runs out to the table on his front porch, and Emma only lingers for a few seconds, watching as Killian grabs water bottles from his fridge.

Henry’s smile is as bright as the sun when she sits down beside him. “Yeah, mom, he doesn’t like you,” he says, pointing at the beautiful spread on the table. There’s pasta, salad, and bread on the table, and Emma laughs when she looks up to see Killian with three water bottles shoved under his arm, a bottle of wine and two glasses shoved under the other arm. She stands up, grabbing the wine and the glasses from him to ease his struggle.

He smirks at her, watching her closely as she carefully sets down the glasses.

“This is too much, Killian,” she says, and her voice is much softer than she had intended.

He seems to catch the change in her demeanor, head whipping toward her to study her face. She feels warm under his gaze, so she looks over at Henry, who is already piling pasta onto his plate, smiling knowingly down at the table.

The dinner is delicious, and the company is even better. Killian and Henry joke back and forth about stupid things, sometimes poking fun at David, sometimes at Emma. Killian tells them of his love for the sea, how he actually has a boat that has a home down at the docks, how he’d absolutely love to take them out on the water.

It’s overwhelming, for Emma to feel so much ease around a man that makes her feel so…

What?

Alive? Scared? Excited?

She’s not quite sure yet, but it’s too much of something, it sets her on edge.

Or at least, it should. But sitting down, watching him converse casually as he scoops more pasta onto Henry’s plate, it’s almost--easy?

Emma looks over at Henry and smiles, watching as he tries to sneakily grab another piece of bread. “Hey,” she says, and his hand meets his side quickly. Killian chuckles while Emma shakes her head. “It’s a school night. Head upstairs, kid,” she says.

He smiles, jumping up and giving Killian a hug. The action takes him surprise, if the shock on his face is anything to go off of, but his arms circle her son quickly.

“Thanks for dinner!” he says, pulling away and kissing Emma on the cheek. “Night, mom,” he says, and without another word or glance in her direction, he’s running up the stairs in the world’s most obvious attempt to leave them alone.

Killian smirks at Emma, clearly reading the room correctly.

“He’s such a little rascal,” Emma mutters and Killian shrugs.

“He’s a smart lad is all,” he says, standing up to clear the plates from the table.

“Smartass, maybe,” Emma concedes, jumping up and taking the plates from Killian’s hands. “Please, let me clean up.”

“What? No, I won’t hear of it. I invited you to dinner, love,” he says, but when he reaches for the plates again, she takes a step back, leveling him with her hard stare.

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ll clean. You can pour more wine into my glass and wait out here, got it?” her tone conveys that there is no room for argument, so he sighs, holding his hands up in defeat.

It takes her ten minutes longer than necessary to clean everything up. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t linger inside to collect her thoughts before heading back outside. She strolls through his apartment slowly on her way to the porch, taking it all in. Her eyes catch on a photo on the mantle. She stops and walks closer, her heart warming when she sees the frame photo of Killian and David standing in front of Madison Square Garden, smiling happily at the camera. She sighs, and when she gets outside, she finds Killian sitting on the porch swing, sipping slowly from his own wine glass.

He smiles when he sees her, bright and so genuine, before holding out her wine glass. “Ah, Swan, at last! Come sit,” he says, and she slowly approaches him, setting into the spot beside him on the porch swing, thankful for the arm rest between them.

She looks ahead at the street, cars bustling by, even at ten at night, and she tries not to focus on the fact that she can feel Killian staring at her profile.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says, finally turning to look at him. His eyes are too soft, too understanding. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” she asks, if only to start a conversation and hopefully get him to stop looking at her like… that.

He smiles fondly, if not a little sadly, and looks out at the street as well.

“My brother taught me, actually,” he says, his voice distant.

“What’s his name?” Emma asks, taking in the sounds of the city.

She’s lived in small towns, the countryside, big cities, but none quite like New York City. There is always noise, always people walking around, and always lights. Somehow, though, it’s become more of a comfort to Emma. Now, she can’t imagine going to sleep without the sounds she’s become accustomed to relying on.

“His name was Liam,” Killian says after a beat. She stops, turning to look at him again. His eyes are set firmly on her yellow bug that’s parked in front of the house.

“Was?” she repeats, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

He nods. “He died, about six years ago now. He was in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver. He died instantly,” Killian says, and Emma can almost hear the horrid memory in his voice.

“Killian,” she says, drawing in a sharp breath. He doesn’t respond. She reaches out to him, placing her free hand on top of his. He looks down at the hand, then at her. He examines her face, and she keeps her eyes on his for once, trying to convey her emotions without speaking. Trying to show him that there is no pity in her eyes, just understanding and support.

He nods. “It was long ago now, the wound isn’t quite as fresh but…” he trails off, seemingly searching for the rest of his sentence, when she finishes it for him.

“It hurts just the same.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Aye.”

She squeezes his hand once before returning it to her lap.

“You can tell me about him, if you want.”

So he tells her about Liam. About how their mother passed away and how their father turned to alcohol to soothe his pain. How Liam stepped up and took care of Liam, raised him to be an upstanding man. How he was the moral compass that Killian needed in his darkest hours. How he taught Killian how to cook a great meal, but how Killian was never quite able to make lemon bars anywhere near as well Liam could.

In return, she tells him about her life in foster care. In homes where no one cared about her, where was neglected, abused, and forgotten. And about how David befriended her in high school, and when he learned of her home life, or lack thereof, he and Ruth took her in without question.

He smiles at her, and she feels the warmth trapped in her ribcage spread from her toes to her fingertips.

“I’m no stranger to loss,” she says quietly. And he doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t pry at all. Just watches her, waits for more. She takes a sip of her wine before continuing. “Henry’s father, Neal, passed away a few years ago,” she confides.

He winces. “Swan, I’m sorry. Were you guys married?” he asks.

She shakes her head, a little to vehemently, she thinks. “No, no. We fell in love when I was seventeen. We were just kids. He wasn’t much in the picture after I got pregnant. He had a gambling issue, and just a sticking around issue, it seemed. But, when Henry was six, he got his life together, and he really showed up for Henry. He did his best to make up for lost time, really, and I was really happy for him.”

Killian reaches forward this time, just letting his hand settle softly on her knee, and her entire body feels alight.

“He got lung cancer. It all happened fast. About six months from the time of his diagnosis to the time that he died. That’s all.”

“Gods, Emma,” Killian breathes.

She nods. “After he died, I think I lost it, a little. It’s just, well, I didn’t know how to cope. I lost so much in my life before David came around and brought family and love into my life. And I didn’t want Henry to hurt anymore, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. We moved a bunch, and I never felt quite settled anywhere.”

Killian’s quiet for a minute, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. He’s processing. “And New York is another in the long line?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No.”

He smiles slightly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

She sets her empty wine glass down on the porch, sighing.

“I’m glad you’re my neighbor,” she tells him, because she doesn’t know what else to say, and she doesn’t know how to convey how grateful she is that he just listened to her ramble with kindness in his eyes, but she has to say something.

“Emma,” he says, a little breathless, and she looks over at him. His face is different. His heart is truly on his sleeve when he reaches forward and brushes her hair behind her ear.

“What’s happening?” she asks.

He laughs. “Well, not to be presumptuous, darling, but,” he trails off, running his fingers slowly over his lips and smiling at her mischievously.

She scoffs, green eyes locked on his blue ones. The smug action should not be so charming, but, dammit, it really is. She can’t even fight the smile playing on her lips. “Please,” she breathes. “You couldn’t handle it.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, and it’s ridiculous, the things he does with those eyebrows, and how it constantly affects her.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he practically purrs,

That’s all it takes for her to lean forward and catch his lips with her own. It’s awkward, at first, the wooden armrest between them lodged into her side as she leans forward, trying to get closer, one hand gripping at the collar of his shirt while the other finds its way to his hair. But when he groans with pleasure into her mouth, she forgets the pain in her side.

When she pulls his away, his eyes are open, free, and she sighs, resting her forehead against his for a minute.

“That was, uh--” his voice is hoarse, and she cuts him off before he finish.

“A one time thing,” she says sternly, backing away and standing up.

A look of hurt crosses his face as he processes her abrupt mood change. She can barely look at him, feeling like the coward she knows she is.

“It’s late, I should go,” she says, her voice shaking.

“Goodnight, Emma,” he says, his voice faraway, and she doesn’t spare him another look before she heads upstairs, where it’s safe and there is a considerable amount of space between them.

---///---

She spends the next two weeks guiltily rushing away from him every time they run into each other on the porch. He shoots her these knowing looks, and it gets under her skin, the fact that he clearly understands how scared she is. It would be better if he just looked mad or annoyed. But no, of course, Killian Jones is nothing but understanding and compassionate. And he really can read her, terrifying as that is.

When Henry tells Emma he’s going to a sleepover at a friend’s house, she makes it a point to call Mary Margaret and demand a girls night in. Because heaven forbid she spends the night alone above Killian Jones.

When she gets to Mary Margaret and David’s apartment, she lets herself in and calls out into the empty space. “I’m here, I’ve got wine, let’s start drinking… like, five minutes ago!”

She looks around, sighing, but smiles when she sees the door to her balcony cracked open. She heads out to see David, Killian and Mary Margaret all talking, sitting in the little chairs on the balcony. Emma stops short, fighting back a loud groan when Killian’s kind eyes reach hers.

“Hey, Swan,” he says easily, though he’s more reserved than usual.

“Hi,” she says, her voice scratchy to her own ears.

There’s a moment of silence, and neither David nor Mary Margaret feel the need to jump in and save them. The married couple just keep looking at each other knowingly, seemingly having an entire conversation without speaking a word.

“Okay,” David says finally, and Emma lets out an audible sigh of relief, much to Killian’s chagrin. “Killian, you ready to head out?” he asks, clapping his hands together awkwardly.

“Where are you guys going?” Emma asks as Killian stands.

“Poker night at Robin’s,” Killian says, and Emma nods.

“Have fun.”

David eyes Emma, and she looks away because no one knows her better than David, and she doesn’t want him to see right through her, like he always does.

They say their goodbye and move to leave the balcony, but David stops and places a kiss on Emma forehead. “You okay, Ems?” he asks quietly against her hair.

She nods, sending him a half-hearted smile before she pushes him toward the door lightly. He sighs and leaves with his friend. Emma groans, falling into the seat that Killian had just vacated, and glares over at Mary Margaret.

“They wouldn’t stop talking. They were supposed to leave a half hour ago, I swear,” Mary Margaret says. Emma just frowns, replaying the look in Killian’s eyes over and over in her head. “I’ll go get the glasses,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma nods, leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes.

Mary Margaret comes back with two glasses, and Emma wastes no time in popping open the wine bottle and pouring a generous amount into both glasses.

“I kissed him,” she mutters into her glass.

Mary Margaret smiles at Emma, the exact opposite reaction that Emma was hoping for. Also, the exact reaction she was expecting.

“Of course you did, Em,” she says softly. “You like him.”

Emma pouts, and Mary Margaret laughs. Emma stretches her legs out, glad she chose to wear jeans and sweatshirt, as fall was finally hitting full force and the temperature had dropped considerably.

“What’s so bad about kissing him? He’s a good guy, Emma. I know you can see that.”

“I just… don’t have time. And he’s my neighbor, I mean… when it all goes to hell, it’s going to be so awkward. Plus, Henry is really attached to him already, so I don’t want to ruin that either.”

“When it all goes to hell?” Mary Margaret repeats back, and then shakes her head in a way that can only be described as motherly.

“It always does.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works. Different relationships don’t last for varying reasons, until you’re in one that does work.”

Emma levels her sister-in-law with a look. “Says the girl that married her high school sweetheart.”

Mary Margaret laughs lightly at this, taking another sip of her wine. “My situation is very rare, and just a matter of dumb luck…” she trails off, considering her words. “And also, a matter of hard work. It wasn’t easy when we were in college, trying to figure out our paths, separately and together. We worked through it.”

Emma nods, remembering her years as Mary Margaret’s roommate, listening to the struggles of the couple navigating this new phase of life.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, tell me this,” she urges, taking a new approach. “What do you like about Killian?”

Emma groans, and she feels heat rush to her cheeks. “I don’t know, Snow. He’s kind. And he’s so good with Henry. He makes me laugh… but also… it’s weird. He just… sometimes, when he looks at me, it’s like we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

She can hear how cheesy her own words are, but she doesn’t know how else to explain her attraction to all things Killian Jones.

Mary Margaret beams, nodding. “Sounds pretty nice to me,” she says.

Emma pours more wine into her glass, decidedly ignoring her sister-in-law for a moment.

She continues, though. “Emma, it’s pretty obvious he’s half in love with already.”

That’s all it takes for Emma to choke on the wine she’s in the process of swallowing. Emma frowns, looking down at the spots of red on her grey sweatshirt, but Mary Margaret only chuckles in response.

“I know Killian pretty well. He’s one of the most decent men I’ve gotten to know. He also wears his heart on his sleeve, when it comes to the people he loves. His eyes scream I love Emma Swan every time you’re in his vicinity, or even when David or I bring you up around him. I know you’re frightened, Emma, but you know, being scared is a good sign. Sometimes, when something scares you, that means you need to go for it.”

She considers her words. She’s gotten enough pep talks from Snow in her lifetime that she expected this lecture. However, she didn’t expect to find it so convincing.

“You need to have a little hope, Emma. Sometimes, just believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing. And no one deserve a happy ending more than you.”

“What if my happy ending really is just Henry and me,” Emma interjects, but the words lack the conviction she means for them to have.

“That’s fine, too. Just, don’t settle. Life is too short, and you know that to be true.”

---///---

Emma mulls over Mary Margaret’s words, but it’s still a week before she talks to Killian again. She actually has to ask David to send her Killian’s phone number, rolling her eyes when he follows up the text with no less than fifteen questions about why she needs his number.

The thing is, though, that Henry called Emma saying that he forgot his keys at home, and she knows that she won’t be home until nine due to a wedding that she’s catering. He’s on the bus home when he tells her this, and she panics, knowing it’s close to thirty degrees outside, and knowing that the kid most definitely ignored her when she told him to dress for the weather.

Mary Margaret and David are out of town for a romantic long weekend at a bed and breakfast in some sleepy down in Maine, and she doesn’t know who else to call.

“Hello?” his voice answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Killian,” she says, and she winces at the breathless sound of her voice.

There’s one second of silence that somehow stretches on for years before he responds. “Swan?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice. “Are you alright?”

She smiles despite herself. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just stuck at work and Henry is going to be home any minute and he’s going to be locked out because he forgot his keys and I forgot to hide the spare so I was wondering, you know, if you’re home, and free, if you--”

He cuts off her run-on sentence. “I’m home. I’d be happy to entertain the lad in my home while you work, love,” he says.

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Killian, really,” she says, hoping her tone conveys her gratitude.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The line goes silent and she sighs. “I have to go back to work.”

“Of course,” he says, not unkindly. “See you later.”

She hangs up before she can say something stupid, like how much she misses him, and how much she needs to see him.

When Emma gets home, it’s nearing eleven o’clock at night, and she’s beyond exhausted. She knocks lightly on Killian’s door, trying to ignore the way her arm is shaking with nerves.

He opens the door after a moment, and it’s quiet inside. She looks past him to see Henry asleep on the couch, a red blanket tossed over him. Emma smiles at the sight, then looks at Killian, who is leaning against the doorframe looking criminally handsome in his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt.

“Hi,” she finally says, and he smiles in response. “You’re my hero.”

He laughs, rolling his eyes as she moves to the side to allow her to enter his apartment. They walk quietly past the living room, back into the kitchen so they can talk freely. Her heart is pounding against her chest.

He turns to her, leaning against his counter. “What’s been going on, Swan?” he asks, his voice free of judgment.

She shakes her head, staring down at her shoes. “I’m terrified of you.”

She doesn’t need to look up at him to know that his gaze is intense and on her only.

“Am I frightening, love?” he asks, his voice a little teasing. She laughs, looking back up at him, and his face is kind. And lonely. “You know, I’ve missed your sass these past few weeks.”

She shakes her head. “I have more to offer than sass, Jones,” she mutters.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” he says.

She reaches into her messenger bag, pulling out the small tupperware. His brows knit together with confusion.

“I made you something… as a thank you, for watching Henry tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Emma. It’s really no problem.”

She rolls her eyes. “They may not be as good as the ones your brother made, but Henry loves my lemon bars, so I thought I’d make you some.”

He stares at her like she just presented him with all the fortune and riches this world has to offer. He takes the box from her gingerly, staring down at it with wonder before setting his eyes back on her.

“This is very kind, Swan,” he says finally, his voice trembling slightly.

She shrugs, stepping into his space slightly. He doesn’t move closer, though, he lets her control the situation. “Killian, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” she sighs, fighting the urge to break eye contact. “The answer to your question… you do frighten me. It’s not your fault, it’s me.”

She stops, and he nods. “I knew you were scared, Swan. I’ve been trying to give you space.”

“Yeah,” she says, reaching her hand forward to rest lightly on his forearm. “Yeah, I noticed. What was that about me being an open book?” she asks, and he laughs quietly. “I just… I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I,” he agrees.

She takes the tupperware from him with her other hand, placing it on the counter behind him. “So, what now?” she asks after a beat.

He shrugs. “What do you want, Swan?”

His body surrounds her now, she’s left very little space between them. She searches his eyes for an answer to his question, and then she takes the leap. “I’d like to try something new,” she says.

“Really? And what’s that, darling?” he asks.

Her heart leaps at the endearment, and she doesn’t even bother trying to fight the smile on her face. “Trust.”

He laughs, full and joyous, and she leans forward to press her lips to his.

His hands tangle in her hair quickly, and she’s so happy that she laughs lightly into the kiss, and he responds in kind. He pulls away, pressing soft kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead.

She’s giggling the entire time, and it feels like an out of body experience. She doesn’t know this Emma, this brave, terrified, thrilled Emma.

It’s his phone that interrupts them, and she jumps a bit at the sound. He rolls his eyes, pulling it from his pocket to silence it. She leans forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“I missed you, too, Killian,” she admits, and he laughs, running his hand down her side, settling it on her hip.

They stand like that for a moment, and she pulls back slightly to kiss him once more when they’re interrupted again.

“Mom?”

She jumps away quickly, and Emma looks up to see Killian’s face turning red. She turns around to see her sleepy son staring at them with awe.

“Hey, kid, did we wake you?”

He just raises his eyebrows in disbelief, shaking his head. “Are those lemon bars?” he asks, looking past her to the container on the counter.

She rolls her eyes, and he just shrugs. “Save me some. I’m going back to sleep.”

With that, he turns around and Emma is staring at Killian, who is chuckling at the entire scenario they’ve found themselves in.

It’s only three months more of them getting to know every single thing about each other that he tells her he loves her. He whispers it into her ear one evening on the couch. And for the first time in a long time, her instinct isn’t to run. It’s too press her lips to his shoulder and tell him that she’s so in love with him, that he’s changed her life.

Three months after that, they decide it makes more sense for Emma to move in with him, and Henry couldn’t be happier when the new neighbors move in, giving him a new friend, Violet, to spend time with. Emma doesn’t miss the way his cheeks redden when the young girl waves at him.

And it’s hard work, sometimes. Emma has to learn how to really open herself up, to be truly vulnerable, but it’s worth it. It's the happy ending she never could have imagined for herself, but it's the one that eventually, she realizes, she deserves.

#once upon a time #Killian Jones #Emma Swan #Killian x Emma #Captain Swan #my fic #CS fic #cs ff au

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girlrottn · 5 years

Text

the 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐹𝐸𝐶𝑇 night for a 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉𝖞 ──

╰ °✧ ( MARGARET QUALLEY, CIS WOMAN, TWENTY-THREE, SHE/HER ) : — ❝ here comes ECHO CLEMONS to help guide the tour ! they’ve lived in deadmore for twenty-three years and do know that the myth is true. besides helping guide you all today, they are also a knife thrower at the deadmore grand carnival ! they’re known around town for being adventurous, courageous, foolhardy, and impulsive. they’re said to give off the sound of roller skates against pavement, curious glances, unmade beds, and autumn leaves stained with blood vibe. some people suspect that they're hiding that they recently joined the cult worshipping the deadmore monster. hopefully the town and tourists don’t find out ! ❞

howdy !! i’m spence, ur local weirdo with unhealthy obsessions w southern gothic shit & vampires !! i’m here to introduce you to my crazy baby echo uwu even tho she’s a little bit evil and a lot a bit weird, she’s not shy at all so feel free to hmu with any and all connection ideas you may have !!! i’m also in the process of getting a wc page set up for her so i’ll make a post linking it when i do !!!

TRIGGER WARNINGS for very brief mentions of death, violence, stabbing below the cut

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: a rose by any other name would still have thorns.

full name: isabel lynn clemons nickname(s): echo, izzy to family only age: twenty-three date of birth: march 21 gender: cis woman pronouns: she/her orientation: pansexual panromantic religion: raised southern baptist, currently a member of a cult worshipping the deadmore monster occupation: 1/2 of a knife throwing duo at the deadmore carnival / circus, occasionally picks up gigs in the deadmore cabaret at right hand casino in the off season

character & aesthetic inspiration from: rose summerspring ( bad times at the el royale ), donald ray pollock’s ‘ the devil all the time ’, gillian flynn’s ‘ sharp objects ’, every kaleo song asdvadf

𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓: resurrection is natural to beautiful things; a flower dies in autumn to be reborn in spring.

isabel clemons was born on the first day of spring in deadmore, georgia. her dad’s side of the family, the clemons’, were an old money family, with roots laid down in deadmore just about as far back as it was founded. and he was expected to keep it that way ─ stay in the town, start a family, continue the tradition that his ancestors started generations back. which is why when he and isabel’s mother, a mississippi woman with strawberry blonde hair and a scowl that could knock a hog dead, had trouble conceiving for a number of years, he was terrified he would disappoint his family. but time, perseverance, and a healthy amount of prayer must have done the trick, because after four years of trying, they finally saw that little blue plus. little isabel was a miracle, it seemed, so she was treated as such. from the time she could toddle, she was handed everything she could ever want. but along with being spoiled, as her parent’s only child, a lot was expected of the girl from a young age. she began ballet when she was four, violin when she was six, always made it to the finals in every spelling be, and only received one b in her entire school career. she had a strict curfew, wasn’t allowed to date, and her parents carefully cherry-picked each of her friends. well mannered, soft voiced, legs crossed, chin down, ladylike. she never lived the life of a teenage girl; instead she existed as some unreachable ideal ─ something to be bragged about, doted on, and appreciated from afar. it was only a matter of time until she snapped. when fall of her senior year in high school rolled around, isabel made the first decision she had ever made without her parents’ expectations in mind. after months of silent contemplation, she decided to forgo sending in college applications. of course, she didn’t tell her parents about it until they confronted her, asking about the lack of letters they had been receiving in the mail and wondering if she was hiding the results. she explained to them what she had done, and that she didn’t want to go to university at all, and unsurprisingly it resulted in an enormous fight. for most eighteen-year-olds yet to finish their senior year in high school, being disowned and kicked out by their parents would be a tragedy, but for isabel it was liberating. she went wild, embraced her newfound freedom. she was reckless, and did things without thought for the first time in her life, even changed her name to something she thought sounded more fun. it didn’t take long for her to lose her grip on reality, to become a hedonist who thrived on adrenaline. maybe that’s why it was so easy for her to say yes when the deadmore grand carnival’s knife thrower ( i may end up putting a wc up for this character so hmu if ur interested !! ) needed a new target girl. she giggled in the face of death in a way that only an unhinged teenage girl could. and she never stopped.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓: the rose discovers she is an instrument of war

in the years since echo impulsively took on the role of target girl in the carnival’s knife throwing act, she has picked up the skill herself ( her dedication seems to be one of her more redeeming qualities these days ), and the two performers know act as one another’s targets throughout their set. and given her volatile and impulsive nature, it wasn’t difficult for her to be drawn to the cult living in deadmore’s underbelly. she’s always had morbid fascinations, especially about the hushed whispers of the monster that the townspeople keep satiated. inevitably, those fascinations along with her inclination for the grotesque have led her straight to the cult, which she has promptly devoted herself to entirely despite the short time that she’s even known about it.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘: i want to kiss a god or two on the mouth.

echo is usually pretty nice upon first glance ; she grew up being pressed hard to be well mannered, and it isn’t something that immediately dissipated as she grew out of the persona her parents had made of her.

beneath the surface, though, she can be snide and she loves messing with people for no good reason. no joke. like, fucks with tourists and tries to scare them all the time, tells them she’s a vampire or a ghost or something and pulls a whole rouse just because she thinks messing with people is funny.

also has a nasty habit of spreading gossip.

an enormous flirt. she never really did it before, because she wasn’t allowed to date so she just tried to steer clear, and now she’s making up for lost time. *mushu voice* she’ll flirt with you, she’ll flirt with your cow, she’ll flirt with your whole family

undying interest in things she was sheltered from as a kid, most notably chaos, violence, and anything grotesque. eats the shit up. straight up you could stab her hand or some shit and after she got over the pain, she’d just stare at it in fascination. not really averse to death, a late bloomer when it comes to the idea of mortality, doesn’t really subscribe to it. enormous god complex.

all that said, she’s pretty easily manipulated a lot of times, largely because of that same sheltered upbringing. she’s seen a lot more in the past couple of years than most can handle, treating everything like it doesn’t matter and life is just a dream-state she’s stuck in helps, but it also means it’s not hard to get her to go along with what other people want (as long as some kind of benefit for her, no matter how trivial, is presented). pair that with some wild impulsivity and nonchalance about danger and death and you’ve got a fun combo baybee

i’m gonna stop there because i’ve already written waaaayy too much... if you read this whole thing u truly are my hero wow... but that’s my baby !! catch her roller skating around deadmore being nosy in everyone’s business. call her isabel and she’ll slap u ! feel free to come scream at me if u wanna do things with her, thanks for coming to my ted scream goodnight

#no proof reading we die like men #dm.intro #i rlly don't know when to stop huh

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Note

Hi! So, I have a promt for u, but first a little backstory: I’m from Spain, and I remember when I worked at my parents shop and there were this bracelets everybody was CRAZY about one summer, as in every day ten people would come in asking for them, because Sara Carbonero -sports reporter and Iker Casillas, goalie for the football national team, gf - wore them. It was after Spain son the word cup in 2010. Look into them, there was a very cute kiss. So, prompt: Emma starts a trend with her laces?

Hey, hi, hello there! This has been sitting in my inbox for a millennia and I am so, so sorry for that. I am also so, so sorry because this is not exactly the prompt you asked for. There are laces involved and some dad!Killian feels and, like, New Year’s Eve somehow? It’s a mess of fluff, honestly.

Anyway, 2018 has been some kind of something for just about everyone and I can’t say I’m not excited to see it go. I’ve spent a lot of time stress-writing fic, particularly, hockey fic and I know that there are other hockey stories out there and other Rangers stories out there, but it genuinely warms the cockles of my entire soul that you guys continue to have thoughts and feelings about these Rangers and this ridiculous hockey team. This is (clearly) my favorite ‘verse to write in and it’s kind of my spot to write when everything else is nonsense.

It is a joy to write these stories and a thrill that anyone wants to read them. I wish you guys nothing but the absolute best in 2019 and maybe the Rangers can keep winning in regulation.

“Hit him, hit him, hit him.”

Killian leaned back, resting his head against the door as it closed behind him and the voice on the other side of the apartment was barely audible. It was, however, fairly determined.

Or as determined as a voice could be when, presumably, watching a replay of the game he’d finished playing in a few hours before.

“C’mon, hit him,” Emma hissed, and he liked to imagine that there was some hand flailing going on as well. Of course, he’d be able to confirm that if he moved, but every single inch of him was sore and tired and he had, in fact, played a hockey game a few hours before. “Oh my God,” Emma continued, a thump that might have been most of her body weight dropping back onto the couch. She’d been pacing.

Killian moved.

The floor creaked underneath him, toeing out of his shoes and kicking his equipment bag further into the corner. He didn’t take his jacket off.

And Emma was slumped in the middle of the couch, hair splayed out behind her and a distinct lack of pants on.

He felt his eyes bug.

She didn’t stop watching the game.

“Why do you not know how to get the puck out of the zone?”

Killian tilted his head. “Me specifically?”

“You in the general sense of the entire New York Rangers franchise,” she amended. “But mostly Phillip. Especially Phillip—God, get it out.”

“They don’t score here, you know.”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t spoil it.”

He scoffed, loosening the tie around his neck and glancing at the rather impressive arrangement of only recently-built baby furniture in the corner of the room. “Sleeping,” Emma mumbled, answering a question he hadn’t asked. “Only just. Which is why I don’t want you to spoil the game for me. We didn’t see, well, much of any of it, honestly.”

“Wasn’t interested in watching in real time, huh?”

Emma made a noise – not quite dismissive, but slightly exhausted and it may have had more to do with the Rangers inability to clear the puck in the opening minutes of the first period than the sleeping habits of Margaret. Who, it seemed, in her first few days of existence was bound and determined to drive both of her parents crazy.

And, maybe, terrify them just a bit. That may have just been Killian. Because he’d been the one who’d spent most of the night pacing in a hospital hallway and they’d only just gotten back from D.C. and he wasn’t sure he’d taken a deep breath the entire time, several medical terms bouncing between his ears and around his heart and—

“Shoot!”

His eyes flickered back towards the screen, the puck on his stick and he didn’t shoot. Emma mumbled several rather impressive curses under her breath.

“Where did you expect me to shoot there?” Killian asked, and Emma rolled her eyes. And shrugged. And made that noise again.

“I really have no idea,” she admitted, nodding towards the few inches of space to her left. And it only took a moment for the metaphorical light bulb to go off over her head, a few blinks and a quirk of her lips that never failed to make his heart sputter just a bit against his rib cage and it was fine.

She was fine.

Margaret was fine.

They were fine.

It was New Year’s Eve. He wasn’t sure how that factored into it, but he was certain it had to mean something good.

They’d won the game.

Killian didn’t say that. Spoilers or something.

“You don’t have to watch this, love,” Killian said, another laugh when Emma mumbled something that sounded distinctly like take your coat off, God under her breath. He nudged her up slightly with his shoulder, shifting until he was almost comfortable and he wasn’t really surprised when she curled against his side, head on his thigh and arm draped across him.

He let his fingers move through her hair. She sighed.

“I want to. I’m just—when’s the last time I showered?”

It would have been absolutely impossible to kiss her – a ridiculous twist of his body that would have infuriated Ariel when it inevitably did something drastic to his back, but Killian made an effort and Emma burrowed further against him, a solid weight of warmth and certainty and fine that he kept reminding himself of.

Even when he was on the ice.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t taken the shot.

“You can do that now, Swan,” Killian muttered, fingers still moving as his gaze darted from the game to the somehow-still sleeping infant on the other side of the room. “I promise I’ll be able to tell you what happened in the game.”

She laughed softly, the sound pressed into his pants and, like, his entire soul. He knew he couldn’t actually feel her smile, but it was comforting to imagine, particularly when Emma tugged her legs up under her, a bundle of limbs and that distinct lack of pants.

“How’d you get out of post?”

“Where are your pants?”

“I promise, your story is way more interesting,” Emma said, and he could hear the smile. “Seriously though, did Phillip just—forget how to pass?”

“Arthur broke a whiteboard on that one.”

“Maybe you’re too fast, honestly.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” Killian pointed out. “Don’t put pants on, ok?”

Her answering laugh had a distinct air of exhaustion to it, but there was a hint of something that may have been happiness and two kids and he did eventually take a shot that went into the back of the net. He kind of wanted to watch Emma watch that.

What a weirdo.

Margaret made a noise in the crib – both Killian and Emma’s head snapping towards the sound. He dug his teeth into his lip, barely daring to blink, let alone breathe and—

“Nothing,” Emma mumbled after five seconds that felt like five impossibly long lifetimes. “You going to answer the question though?”

“About Phillip’s inability to pass in the neutral zone?”

“And the board work. God, tell Arthur to practice that tomorrow. There are drills for that, right?”

Killian nodded. “Several thousand, I’d imagine. Was that honestly the question?”

“How’d you get out of post?”

“I did not totally get out of post,” he said, clicking his tongue when Scarlet was whistled for slashing. “They score here.”

Emma groaned. “Oh my God. What did we say about spoilers?”

“I’m really not sure you’re going to make it to the end of the game, Swan.”

“You doing are an absolutely horrible job of deflecting this conversation, you know. I’m going to tell Rubes.”

“I think she’s a little preoccupied with some other things.”

Emma lifted her head, an awkward twist to her neck that Killian would have mentioned if he wasn’t admittedly distracted by the pull of her eyebrows and whatever she was doing with her mouth. Twisting it or something. It was probably because of the pants thing, honestly. And the baby. He was a mess of human emotions and feelings and come-from-behind victories.

And blowing off post.

Kind of.

“Did Ruby sneak you out of post?”

“There was no sneaking involved,” Killian promised, groaning softly when Emma swung her legs over his. She kissed his cheek. “Ask Lucas. We just walked out.”

“Sticking it to the system and the NHL’s player policy, huh? Did you see Mattie?”

“That was part of the reason for leaving.”

“Ah, you can’t say stuff like that, I’m definitely still all hormonal.”

“I mean if you’re going to swoon over my paternal tendencies, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Did he go in the locker room?”

“Nearly ran me over to get in there,” Killian grinned, and it was easier to press a kiss to her temple now. “Told me I played really fast—“

“—I told you!”

Killian hummed. “Wait until the second period,” he murmured against Emma’s hair, laughing slightly when she swore again. “Anyway, he ran me over, nearly broke several sticks, charmed the whole place and presumably left with Locksley, according to the plan.”

“Presumably.”

“I’d imagine it took some time to get out of there. He had several thoughts about Phillip as well. Although yours are a little more coarse, love.”

“Yeah, well, if the three-year-old starts swearing in Norwegian, we might have bigger problems on our hands than whatever fine you’re going to get.”

“I’m not going to get fined.”

“No?”

Killian shook his head. “Lucas was certain it’d work. Plus, I didn’t even score the game-winner.”

“The spoilers,” Emma growled, swatting at his chest and scrunching her nose when he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She exhaled when he kissed her knuckles, quick presses of his lips across the back of her hand and towards her wrist and that was part of the reason too.

Her very bare wrist.

“It’s almost the second period,” Killian reasoned, nodding back towards the TV.

“There are ten minutes left in the first.”

He groaned when Emma dug the hell of her hand into his stomach again, snapping up as soon as the announcer’s voices picked up and it was ridiculous. The whole goddamn thing – because there was a three-year-old with incredibly pointed hockey opinions and a baby that he’d been calling Peggy when they were by themselves and he’d been so goddamn nervous, terrified, a pacing, frustrated mess who’d only sat down because Regina had told him, somewhere in the realm of four in the morning, that he was going to do permanent damage to both of your hamstrings. But there had been so many machines and everything kept beeping and—

“Hey,” Emma muttered, tugging lightly on the tie he’d forgotten he was still wearing. “What just happened?”

“What?”

“You got all distant. Were you also thinking about how shitty Phillip is playing in this game.”

“No.”

“Oh, that was a much quicker objection than I was expecting,” Emma said, one side of her mouth tilting up into something that was almost a smile. It probably would have been if the bags under her eyes weren’t quite so obvious and there wasn’t still a slight tinge to her skin, not quite grey, but not quite flushed and Killian pressed his lips to her forehead before he considered all the reasons he didn’t have to.

“I really love that you think that,” Killian mumbled. He didn’t move his head. He was totally going to keep calling the baby Peggy.

“Think what? Are you speaking in tongues? Because I really can’t remember when I showered last and the pants thing was this whole disaster, so it’s not—“

“You really don’t have to put pants back on.”

It was a real smile that time. “Noted. What do you love? And seriously why did you walk out of post?”

“You.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound quite like a promise or a pledge or several thousand statements on the record that would spark several more thousand internet clicks, but that’s what it was and what it always had been and Emma’s tongue darted between her lips.

“Always,” Killian added softly, brushing his thumb over the curve of her jaw. “And on both fronts. I, well—it’s a little late, but…”

It wasn’t easy to shift both of them – exhaustion and post-game bumps and bruises, but Emma moved as soon as she realized what was going on, a hint of curiosity in the pinch between her eyebrows. “We were kind of busy around Christmas,” he added, tugging the laces out of his pocket and Emma might have gasped.

Her hand flew to her mouth, so it was kind of hard to tell.

“No way,” Emma mumbled into her palm, and Killian had to blink so he didn’t feel as if every single human emotion he was currently feeling overwhelmed him entirely. “Oh that is so…stupid.”

Killian’s whole body moved when he laughed, loud enough that his eyes darted towards the crib again. Nothing. “Stupid?” he echoed, Emma nodding before he’d even finished the word.

“So stupid. It’s—I can’t believe…no, that’s totally a lie. I knew you were going to do it, as soon as Mattie broke the last ones.”

“That’s kind of disappointing, honestly. I don’t want my game to be so one-dimensional.”

“Far too confident in your own humor.”

“That was funny, Swan, admit it,” Killian said, nosing at her cheek until he felt the end of her lips tick up. “And I didn’t really think about it after Mattie broke ‘em.”

“No?”

“No.”

It had been an accident – a few months before and a very enthusiastic kid who was very excited at the prospect of camp and trying to get on the ice and Emma had lunged, doing her best to keep him off that very same ice when there was an actual practice going on and the second pair of laces snapped in rather dramatic fashion in Tarrytown.

She’d promised there was some kind of relationship irony to that.

But then there’d been a season and Emma had been pregnant and there’d been games and skates and the thought of replacing laces hadn’t even occurred to Killian until he was pacing out a small semicircle in a hospital room, a dozing infant in his arms and mumbled words falling out of his lips and he stopped as soon as he saw the distinct lack of anything on his wife’s left wrist.

So a plan was formed.

Kind of.

There were still games, after all. And a baby.

“I wanted to have it for Christmas,” Killian said, voice dropping of its own accord and the first period was over. “But that got—“

The words caught in his throat, lips suddenly dry and eyes far too wide to be healthy. Emma shifted, twisting until she had either one of her legs on the side of his hips and he refused to be held accountable for whatever sound he made as soon as her fingers moved through his hair.

He closed his eyes.

“You know you keep calling her Peggy when you think I can’t hear you.”

He smiled. “Are you stalking me, Swan?”

“Only because I’m super attracted to your paternal tendencies. It’s almost getting ridiculous.”

“Seriously, do not put pants on for the rest of the night.”

“I don’t think any of them are clean, so…”

Killian laughed, some of the inexplicable tension that had been lingering between his shoulder blades for the last ten days dissipating. He ducked his head, catching Emma’s lips with his own and it wasn’t anything more than a bit cautious and a little hopeful, but it felt like coming home and scoring the game winner and settling back into a skating rhythm that could maybe make some kind of playoff run this season.

“I really like Peggy,” Emma whispered against his mouth. “Did Rubes help you steal laces too?”

“Nah, that was all Banana.”

“Naturally. Are they from—“

“Yeah,” Killian nodded when she trailed off, and the tears on her cheeks were somehow almost, kind of, sort of nice. “It was a very impressive goal. Lots of speed up the side of the ice and a ridiculous angle.”

“You sound very confident, Cap.”

“Got me a star.”

Emma beamed. “Yeah?”

“Second, but you know it wasn’t the game-winner, so…”

“I don’t care. I—“ She took a deep breath, tongue flashing between her lips again and shoulders shifting slightly and he wasn’t really surprised by the kiss that time either. Or the way her hand cupped the side of his face, like she was trying to memorize him or keep him and he would have willingly sat there in the corner of the couch for the rest of his goddamn life.

Fines be damned.

“I love you,” Emma said, no trace of anything except honest and a slightly distracting lack of pants. She twisted again, moving her arm in between them and flipping her hand over. “And I know—well, it was kind of terrifying there for a second, huh?”

“A little.”

“A lot. I…I know if I try and apologize you’re going to tell me—“

“—You don’t have anything to apologize for, Swan.”

“See, this is the interrupting I was prefacing,” she grumbled, another quick kiss that left his stomach slightly knotted. “But, well, it was…God, I’m so tired, I can’t come up with another word except terrifying. I just—I knew, I hoped it would be fine and I was fairly confident in modern medicine, but I started thinking about not being here for you and the kids and—“

Emma sighed again, more tears and lips pressed together tightly. “I love you,” she shrugged, as if that weren’t the single most important sentence the world. “And that angle is ridiculous. It’s…I don’t even understand how it works.”

“I’m a very talented hockey player.”

“And a really, really good dad.”

“I hope.”

“I know,” Emma promised, wiggling her fingers. “Plus, it’s stupid attractive when you score.”

“That so?”

“Like every single time. It’s good Peggy’s asleep, I don’t want to scar her for life this early.”

“She’ll get used to it.”

Killian didn’t mention that Emma used the nickname either, but the glint in her eye made it almost too obvious she knew. “That’s definitely the right approach,” she laughed. “You going to give me my laces or, like, what’s your plan here?”

He slid the laces on her wrist.

And Emma did, actually, see the goal, mumbling ridiculously fast against him as soon as he crossed the blue line, but it only took a few more moments for her eyelashes to flutter and her breathing to even out and Killian tried not to wake her when Peggy fussed midway through the third period – a few minutes before midnight.

“Hey little love,” he whispered, pulling her out of the crib and rocking back and forth, a quiet rhythm that felt a little bit like being back in skates. “You missed the goal, you know. That’s ok. We’ll get some more later this week.”

She didn’t answer, just squirmed against him and twisted towards the TV and that was hardly playing fair.

“Yeah,” Killian continued. “Tie game. It’s gets very dramatic at the end.”

More squirming. And blinking. And a rather impressive attempt to yank on his shirt.

“C’mon, let’s at least be comfortable when Phillip makes up for all those turnovers from before.”

And Killian barely noticed the clock ticking past midnight, far too preoccupied with the baby in his arms and the feeling in his chest and Peggy did, eventually, stop squirming – enough for a few more moments of sleep that ensured neither one of them saw the game-winner.

They watched it in the morning, Emma’s hair still damp from the shower and the laces on her wrist sticking to her skin.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #blue line one shots #i don't know guys here's some new years eve emotions or something #florepy #laura rambles

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