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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

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To all,

In the few hours of planning, I have witnessed a letter appear in our shared mailbox, on a Tuesday.

For the record, I do not believe any of this nonsense, you could very easily be lying, both Yu, and whoever that “entity” is.

But Rai insists that it is all true, and despite his fragility, he always had this uncanny ability to tell when someone is spreading falsehoods or not, a knack for feeling if something is going wrong. The fact that he hasn’t quit sending these letters means that he wholeheartedly believes this, sci-fi narrative.

I trust him, so I’ll play along for now.

Trust me, this does not mean I trust you. For the time being, Rai will not be sending any letters, because he has apparently made himself a target, I cannot have that.

My name is. Actually, you don’t get to know my full name, it’s bad enough that you know my first anyways.

To, the entity, the letter that that was sent was matted in dirt, the words “I see you” were written in what is most likely blood, it was stuffed in an envelope along with the lily.

To Yu, Yuvon, thank you for being there for Rai these past few weeks, and fuck you, for making his life so much harder than it needs to be. He should be worried about portioning his time right to get more sleep, and doing his best to earn a living, not trying to keep a cursed pen-pal alive. Unfortunately, if what you do say is true, then I cannot blame you for his woes, you reached out, and like the hero he is, he takes the call for help.

I am currently in the process of reading the letters that were sent between you all, but, if you want to be in my good graces, a summary would help much more than hours of reading, I will not take kindly to secrets (Jake).

I will await a response.

Skie

Skie,

Most of the evidence I'd usually offer to assure people I'm not lying doesn't apply to you. It'll be a little more clear why when I get into the summary later, but I'm reeling a bit and I'm trying to take things one thing at a time.

Yeah. It's probably best if Rai at least isn't the first one to open these letters for a while. Please be careful too. I seriously don't know what this thing is capable of or what it wants, but it's very clearly violent. And entities (that's what we call these things, for lack of a better word) getting violent ends very, very poorly.

Best if we don't do full names, I agree. We've all sort of set a precedent where we use nicknames or screen names instead of our actual names.

(The ink turns dark enough that it seems to suck in the light around it.) My thanks for the description.

...Right. That just happened. I'm never going to get used to that.

You're welcome and I'm sorry. Truthfully, I've been pretty worried about Rai as well, and I sincerely apologize for any and all parts I played in Rai's problems.

Alright. Recap. This is gonna be long.

One day before I sent my first letter, I woke up in a clearing in a forest, with a note that told me that I could send letters to alternate universes with other people in the same situation I had left before arriving to the clearing on the ground in front of me. I marked the direction I was facing when I appeared and arbitrarily declared it "north". I did some exploring, and discovered that there was an invisible barrier all around the clearing, and that there were trees as far as the eye could see when I climbed a tree inside the barrier. After the first day, I sent my first letter.

Rai, though he went by Rainer then, was actually the first person to write to me, two days later. He was doubtful, obviously, but I shared specific details of the shared experiences that connect us across universes, and so did he, so we believed each other. We talked metaphysics and theories about what was going on for a bit, and Rai asked for details about my circumstances. I learned there were eight rooms off the central clearing, but five disturbed me so much that I lied and said that only three existed: a library (south), a game room (east), and a "comfy room" (west) with pillows and mattresses and blankets, etc.

Eventually, I realized there was an anomaly we've tentatively been calling the stasis over my version of the Duskwood group, where they went on with their lives but nothing actually changed. They didn't start to come to terms with emotional events that happened, they made no progress in their investigations, they didn't talk about anything important. Things were happening, but nothing HAPPENED, if that makes sense.

Rai encouraged me to tell one particular person from the Duskwood group I trust whole-heartedly, Jake, about my circumstances. That broke the stasis on him, and from then on, he and I started to work together.

We determined that the trees around my clearing are elder trees (symbolic of life/death/rebirth cycle) and completely generic trees. I theorized that I was stuck between a symbolic "death" and "rebirth", in a stasis of my own. I remain convinced of this theory.

On Father's Day, I spoke to the Duskwood group and lied to them in the process of cancelling an event I'd planned on that day for fear of giving myself away. Unbeknownst to me, that began to shake them out of their stasis slowly.

Someone named Liska contacted me then, informing me that they were sort of in an inverse situation as my own: They had normal contact with their friends and family outside of Duskwood, and they hadn't been kidnapped like I was, but Duskwood itself was almost completely frozen. There was some other weird stuff happening with the stasis, but that's not so relevant.

Lis started to get threatening calls from the perpetrator in the Duskwood case, worrying pretty much everyone, plus she didn't trust me, though I cleared the distrust up fairly quickly.

This is about when Rai started having issues, and warned us he wouldn't be able to write letters as often.

I sorta got stuck for a while, and Lis kept getting threatened. I figured out that someone would eventually join me in the clearing, but not who, how, or when, so I was obsessing over that. About then, Lis pointed out a small detail that showed I was lying about something, and that turned into a confession about the other five rooms. In brief:

North: A room with a countdown to when I can leave

Northwest: Another clearing where everything was dead with a silver goblet at the end, whole area gave off a magical sense of dread, I left without investigating further

Southeast: Altar w/ bloodstains, symbolism and text suggesting I could sacrifice my life to kill the ass terrorizing my version of the group (an alternate version of the asshole stalking Lis)

Northeast: Knife in the middle of a glade, can cut almost anything in here but the invisible barrier.

Southwest: 3 upside-down torches, one on each wall that wasn't an entrance, floor was a field of white lilies. Refused to enter initially due to overdose of symbols of death.

I discovered that my old family and my few non-Duskwood friends had all completely forgotten who I was. They still haven't remembered, but that's besides the point. I'm not just whining here, this becomes important later.

Anyhow, I started getting really worried about Rai, because he mentioned his head feeling fuzzy, he was having trouble understanding things, and his writing was disjointed. You probably know about when that was on the recent timeline.

Lis's next letter was concerning, and I asked in a cipher I won't disclose because at least one entity can't seem to understand it whether she was alright and offered a code for her to tell us if she was being watched.

Lis then sent two letters back to back: one where she used the code, and one when she wasn't being watched: she had been kidnapped by the stalker. We also made first contact with an entity we're calling "Goldie" or "Aur" (first few letters of their name) who is benevolent and has done their utmost to help Lis.

In addition, her Jake spoke to her over Tumblr, promising to help find her, and I got print-outs of the screenshots in an envelope. I contacted him as well, offering what advice I could, especially as we'd begun to theorize there was an entity working against Lis as well.

It wasn't enough. Lis was shot. And died.

And then her entity sent her back in time, alive, and with her Jake freed from the stasis much earlier.

As Lis started recovering mentally from that, I started messing on this plane again. Lis convinced me to test out the death symbol room and see if it was actually dangerous, so I first tried cutting my way out of the barrier with the knife (it failed) and then I started sorta using the Robin Crusoe method of testing the room for death, which meant I went very slowly.

During this, Rai finally admitted he hadn't been sleeping enough, and I tried to encourage him to actually fucking sleep and not worry so much about writing the damn letters.

Then

Okay, I'm not proud of this bit. Behind one of the torches in the room with the lilies and torches I'd been testing, there was a sheet of paper with a blood ritual on it. It promised an end result I'd like, and none of the other schmuck baits up to that point had actually hurt me, so I gave it a try. Imagine my shock when Jake appeared in the clearing. He's still here, by the way, we don't know how to get him back any more than me.

Rai brought up a theory (later confirmed) that the ritual brought Jake because he was what I most wanted to have with me right then. I began to work on trying to deconstruct the ritual and understand how it worked so I could confirm or deny, but was interrupted when I discovered that the Duskwood group had broken out of stasis, and I had to play damage control. They also became semi-aware the stasis had happened.

Lis sent another letter, and Jake came to the conclusion that her workplace is unsafe, and urged her to take a vacation, especially in the wake of further threats from the kidnapper. Also, Lis's stasis started to weaken, and she began passing messages between my version of Jake and her's. They proved to be surprisingly different.

At that point, someone named Jessy sent a letter in, who is one of the Duskwood crew. She was from a year in my future, shortly after her version of me, named Matt, was killed by the kidnapper and Jake was framed for it.

At this point, Jake raised the theory that Rai, Lis, Matt, myself, and all other counterparts across universes are somehow cursed, or gain more attention than we should from entities, and that's why so many horrible things happen to us. It... makes a lot of sense, honestly.

About here is when I started getting together a plan to get out. I was worried I might be mindread, though, so I went to slightly extreme measures to make sure my thoughts wouldn't give me away.

Then Jessy wrote again, and tried to convince Lis and I to run away from our respective Jakes out of concern. Along the way, she accidentally implied that her universe's Jake was being tortured in his incarceration, and I admittedly lashed out at her a bit in my response to her letter. It made me furious, obviously, and scared and upset, so I used those emotions to focus.

Lis grew concerned when I denied I had a plan. Repeatedly. And unconvincingly. Okay, it was more of a mantra. I sort of wrote "I have no plan" all over the paper and then didn't erase well enough, so you can see why she was concerned.

Now, I don't know everything that went down right there, but I'll take a guess. The entity, unable to interpret the ciphered messages I'd sent to Lis explaining why I was so insistent that I had no plan, asked Lis what my plan was, pretending to be benevolent like Goldie. Lis didn't believe it, and annoyed the entity in the process. It taunted her, claiming that Jake and I would be hurt because of her noncompliance, which was bullshit because the entity would've done what it did anyhow. Lis tried to send us warnings, but the entity blocked them and taunted her more publicly.

Unless it's essential, I'd rather not go into detail about what exactly happened when I tried to execute my plan. There's a letter that describes most of it somewhere in the past two weeks or more. Suffice it to say, I fell into a probably magic-induced coma for a few days, my face is still scarred to hell, and there's a small chunk missing from my right arm, though that's filling in because enhanced/faster healing here.

After the incident, while I was unconscious, everyone wrote in letters asking after me or offering advice, including Lis's Jake and Jessy, and Jake pretended to be me to keep the Duskwood group from suspecting anything. One of them figured it out, but she was sympathetic to both Jake and myself, so she kept the secret. In the meantime, Lis took a vacation and got out of danger, hopefully.

When I woke up, I was able to just... know a few minor facts about the entity. I still don't know how or why.

Anyway, I just sorta recovered and caught up for a bit.

Max contacted us to basically let us know that Lis was doing better (she was really torn up with guilt over the incident :( )

Very recently, Jessy contacted my parents, trying to determine if I was alright, and discovered that they didn't know who I was. That spawned a confession from me when I was confronted; that whole group is now in the know. Jake is still not entirely pleased with my decision, but I think he's mostly over it.

Then that new entity apparently sent out the letter, you contacted us for the first time, and now we’re back to the present moment.

Oh. One more thing that seems pretty important in hindsight. Rai sent me a crayon as an experiment. It arrived three different colors in one crayon: brown, green, and white. Take a wild guess what it was called.

Yep. White lily.

This is sort of reminding me of a character I made a million years ago, but the powers don't match up. It doesn't sound like the M.O. does either. Still, that character was a nasty piece of work. I hope it's all just a coincidence.

Anyhow. That's all for now. Talk to you later. Write to you later. Whatever.

—Yuvon

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jessy #rai #skie #lis #lis's jake #lis's entity #jessy #the entity #lily #recap

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iturbide · 4 years

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Robin is not the evil but Grima is in the likes of Loptyr, so I believe original timeline Robin is similar to Julius, both were nice people but became possessed. Also there's indication that Robin lived with his chosen spouse and daughters so they saw his degeneration in the original timeline, and most of them died protecting the Shepherds or their children from Grima. Never said that Sumia would blame him but it must be a hard and tragic situation similar if Ishtar had children with Julius

This is just. Wrong on so many levels.

So first off: Grima is not the likes of Loptyr. Loptyr was an Earth Dragon who specifically hated humanity from the outset, made a pact with Galle for the sole purpose of gaining power over humans, instilled their will in a tome so that they could possess those bearing their blood, and then proceeded to unleash horrors on mankind for seventeen generations. Loptyr was a cruel and terrible entity, there is no mistaking that. But Grima is not Loptyr. Grima is an artificial construct whose creator and effective father figure tried to murder them when they were small, who was attacked by strange humans for no apparent reason when they were still a child, who upon emerging into the world was treated as a divine by mankind and then used and abused for their powers, and finally fell into despair before getting murdered by Naga’s chosen and then getting dragged back into the world by yet more human selfishness a thousand years later. There’s a very big difference there.

Also, there’s absolutely no indication that Robin lived with his spouse and children after Grima’s return. Robin never came back from the Dragon’s Table where Chrom was killed. If he had, there’s no possible way Lucina wouldn’t have known whose hand took her father’s life. Robin wasn’t Robin after the Dragon’s Table, he was Grima in Robin’s body, and that makes a big difference. The fact that Lucina came to the past knowing only that “the person her father trusted most” was responsible speaks volumes, and makes it abundantly clear that his spouse and children didn’t see him change or have any idea that Grima had any connection to him, because he was presumed dead when he didn’t return.

It’s not similar to Julius and Ishtar at all. As @banyanas pointed out, Julius was already possessed by the time he and Ishtar entered into any kind of relationship, which is an absolute nightmare in terms of consent issues, while Robin was still entirely himself when he entered into a relationship with Sumia and had children with her (not to mention the fact that Ishtar and Julius were 16/17 years old at the time compared to Robin and Sumia in their 20’s, and that’s a whole other tangle of issues).

As I said before, I think you’re mistaking a lot of things from both these games in the assumptions you’re making, and I disagree very intensely with the arguments you’re making. If you don’t agree with me, that’s fine, but since I have no intention of changing my opinions, I would recommend you disengage because I’m done re-stating this argument for the umpteenth time, and I will block you if you come back into my inbox citing that Grima is the same as Loptyr when even a cursory glance at my blog will tell you that I have very different opinions on that matter.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: awakening #fire emblem: genealogy of the holy war #grima #loptyr #salty like the sea #if you come back into my inbox again i am going to block you #you have been warned about this #you are by no means obligated to engage with me #but this right here is my blog and i’m putting the content i want on it #you don’t have a right to tell me to change #so if you decide that you have to argue and try to convince me i’m wrong again #then i’m going to make sure that i don’t have to deal with you anymore #and bonus: you won’t have to deal with me either :)

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ziracona · 4 years

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What are your thoughts on all the survivors that weren't mentioned in ilm? Like bill and zarina?

Well, I’m under-informed on a few of them. If I wrote a story including Bill, Heather/Cheryl, and Ash, I would do more research first, because I only have their DbD paragraphs and a little personal knowledge to go with, but I’ll still give you my current takes haha.

I’ve never played Left 4 Dead, but from his perks and the little I do know, Bill seems gruff and rough around the edges, but like he’s got a good heart and while his paragraph describes him as wanting someone to fight more than anything, I’d argue it reads a lot more like he wants to see people protected more than anything. (I mean, considering he’s quite literally died for his friends before, and some of his perks are based around survival alone, but he’s also got Borrowed Time, one of the most altruistic survivor perks in the game).

Heather I feel bad for more than anything else. Poor girl goes to hell once and what do you do? Ya send her back. It ain’t fair. I’ve /seen/ Silent Hill and never played it, so again I have very incomplete information, but I liked her, and mostly I just felt bad for her that her life was super messed up. Poor kid is extremely traumatized, but I greatly admire the resilience and how powerful she is when most people would pretty understandably curl up and die.

Ash, I’ve /only/ seen the first Evil Dead film, so I only know him as baby Ash/the world’s single biggest himbo. I’m losing it. In that film, he really does see a friend turn into a demon zombie (not the first time it’s happened either), attempt to murder him and another friend, then get decapitated but still be chattering on the floor, and when he asks what they’re gonna do now and his other (kind of dying at this point) friend says they have to bury the zombie still living corpse thing, dumb hoe really does go “But we can’t bury her! She’s our friend : (”. He’s so stupid but I loved him. The movie was kinda too grody for my personal preferences--kinda icked me out--but I really enjoyed poor stupid Ash. I am lead to believe he is much more charismatic as an older dude though, so I’d have to do more research to have an accurate opinion on DbD Ash.

Yui I really like. Actually, I try not to play against Yuis when I play killer, or to like, at least not play Legion or Myers against them (I main Wraith/Myers/Legion, although I’m also learning Huntress, Nurse, Hag, & Spirit), because this poor girl got assaulted by a nasty stalker boy with a knife & half her character is about speaking out for women who get stalked & abused and thus I like, don’t feel super comfortable knifing a character who is written as a figurehead for “don’t abuse women or stalk/kill them” down as a slasher boy in-game? (Kind of a weird choice by the devs tbh). I like her a lot though. It’s cool that she rebelled against gender stereotypes even though it made home life really hard, and did it in a society where that’s even more complicated than where I’m from, and that she carved her own path despite a lot of obstacles, defended herself against a guy who was entitled to her body because he’d seen her, beat him, and then went through PT and recovery and got back to racing and was kind of a figurehead of speaking out against violence against women and had a whole biker gang devoted to that. She’s very hardcore.

Zarina is also cool. I like her whole “search for the truth” freedom fighter thing. Her perks are really neat & I think the way she’s tied to Caleb is cool. It’s been a while since there’s really been a connection between killer and survivor (I mean, ST I guess, but the Demogorgon has no personal connection to those two, it’s just from their world, so to me it’s been since like, Jeff), and this is an interesting way for them to be connected. You’ve got Nea having trespassed in the Nurse’s workplace, Benedict went looking for answers at the MacMillan estate, and Jeff having been friends with Legion in highschool, but other than that and the licensed survivors who get taken with the monster hunting them (Quentin, Laurie, Tapp, Heather, etc), most survivors have no connection. It’s neat that she went looking for truth and trying to see if Caleb was a monster like history paints him, and that’s why she got taken. Kinda sad too, because part of what made Caleb end so violent was that the justice system was super unfair to him, and probably if he knew all of Zarina’s history, he would appreciate her and get some weird small amount of solace from it (I’m not about to suggest he’d like, reform or something, but like, it would probably matter to him, and he’d probably take it easy on her in trials, even if his life didn’t fundamentally change much), but he’ll almost certainly never know that. Her backstory is brutal but kinda real, and it sucks a lot for her that her whole life has been unfair, and then she got snatched by the Entity too. : / I like her though.

Nancy & Steve I like, although it’s weird to me they were the pair taken lol. It would have made more sense if it was Nancy and Jonathan, or Steve and his bff Robin. ST seems like a weird addition to me, because I don’t think of it as horror, but that said, I really feel like they missed out by adding Steve & Nancy as their survivors period, even though these are both characters I like in the show. See, almost without fail before that, the licensed characters taken were either from stories finished being told, or dead/presumed dead, and that was really cool (I mean, Halloween I guess not, but Halloween doesn’t count because it’s already got like 6 timelines going--what’s one more?). It was great to see Quentin get a second life through DbD, and Tapp just dies offscreen presumably in Saw 1, so he was a great pick for someone to develop further in a different story--same reason he’s the first protag of the Saw video games. That was a really cool way to do things, and I think they should have stuck to it. It was smart, and awesome, and a lovely idea. ST, however, isn’t even finished getting seasons. And especially with that being the case, it’s weird to just have some totally undeveloped and unmotivated AU where part way between seasons...2 & 3? Nancy calls....Steve? And just Steve? To help her look something up? And they go missing together? Like, if you wanted a ST episode, which could have been really amazing, I’d have way preferred you stick to your OG, really cool guns & drag in a dead or underutilized character and give them new life than create an unmotivated AU where some probably happy in main-stream canon character is now trapped in hell for the publicity grab. I’m not actually, like, bothered about them being in-game or smth if that sounds harsh, I just am a little bit sad they didn’t go with their old modus operandi and do something really cool! Like, ST has a terrible track record for killing off characters for no GD good reason post season-one and DbD YOU COULD HAVE UTILIZED THAT FAILING SO WELL. You could have done amazing things!!! Like, Alexi gets to have a second life in DbD? Sign me the fuck up, he was my favorite character in Season 3! I fkn DIG that. OR UH. GIVE ME FUKCING BOB. I WOULD NEVER PLAY ANYONE BUT SEAN ASTIN AGAIN. I”M JUST SAYING. WHY TF DID YOU NOT PICK THE MUCH BETTER OPTIONS AND DO WHAT YOU USED TO DEVS I HATE IT.

So anyway none of this is revolutionary but here’s my short form thoughts on the other survivors that weren’t in ILM. Thanks for the ask! ^u^

#dead by daylight #ask #anonymous #long post #bill overbeck #zarina kassir #yui kimura #ash williams #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #heather mason #spoilers

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thesschesthair · 5 years

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Now I got feelings based on those gifs from yesterday! A Casper AU where Killian (or Rogers) is a paranormal psychiatrist who travels around the country with his teenage daughter Alice (or adoptive daughter Tilly).

Ooooohhhh!

Killian Jones who’s become a bit of a joke in the media’s eye, usually only invited for interviews to fill the ‘weird and wacky’ slots of television... believes in his cause.

He’s spent years studying the afterlife and trying to connect with those that have passed away, convinced they’re out there still.

“I believe they are there and want to communicate.” he insists. “We just need to open our minds and hearts enough to let them.”

After the tragic loss of his older brother, he started looking for a way to contact him, adamant his spirit was out there, unable to move on.

His teenage daughter Alice, while supporting her father, believes his obsession may be losing his touch with reality.

“Maybe uncle Liam doesn’t have unfinished business, papa? Maybe he’s at peace.”

“I understand your concerns, starfish, I do.” he’d sooth her. “But his life was cut far too short. He had so many things to live for, I feel it in my soul, Alice. He’s out there, and he needs my help.”

She understands his need to see Liam again. She misses her uncle just as deeply.

When Killian is hired by a Mr Gold to explore a derelict (and haunted) mansion owned by one Ms Cora Mills, he sees it as an opportunity to prove his theory right.

By helping these tortured spirits to move on, he can finally show the world he’s not crazy,... and be one step further to finally seeing his brother one last time.

Once moved into the mansion, it doesn’t take long for the first ghost to appear.

Casper. A young, friendly ghost happens to befriend Alice (after much screaming and misunderstandings).

He’s the friend Alice needed in a time where she feels alone the most. He gives her the courage she needs to befriend Robin; the only girl at school that doesn’t treat her like a freak. He also helps her keep in touch with her childish side, reminding her that life can be fun and not so hard.

Unfortunately, Killian ends up having a harder time with three other ghosts that seem hell-bent on giving him a rough time.

Shadow- a dark and somewhat evil ghost who likes to try and cause as much chaos as possible. His cheery dialogue does nothing to mask the sinister and cold gleam that lays within his eyes.

Squealer- an incredibly nervous ghost that is the epitome of anxiety. He has bad thoughts and scenarios for any situation. He’ll freak out at someone opening a door, claiming they could twist their ankle and impale their eye on the doorknob alone.

And finally... Crackers. An older, grey burlier ghost that’s completely insane or absolutely drunk- Killian can’t work out which. His mood changes with his desire for drink and he’s never able to hold a complete conversation without him veering off to something completely different.

It doesn’t take long to work out that Mr Gold and Ms Mills have ulterior motives for ridding these entities from the mansion.

Killian finally joins forces with the three unlikely spirited allies to find out they’re trying to cover something up... something that holds evidence in the mansion.

Meanwhile, while trying to help Casper remember who he was and how he died, Alice stumbles upon something that chills her to her core.

“They’re me... aren’t they?” Killian whispers to her, coming to the same conclusion. “The entities are somehow me.”

Alice nods, fearful tears in her eyes. “There’s more, papa.”

Documents and newspaper clippings found hidden in the attic reveal that Mr Gold and Ms Mills were illegally smuggling goods into the country via shipping freight.

They were overloading the containers and fixing the manifests.... the same shipping containers that collapsed killing many dock workers... including one Liam Jones.

What’s more, they paid to have the incident covered up, making it look like a tragic accident.

“But why bring me here if this is the last thing they’d want found?” he asked himself, confused and angry at the turn of events.

“They didn’t. I did.”

A bright light behind him spoke.

Killian turned, unable to believe who was behind him.

It couldn’t be.

He’d dreamed of this moment for so long and now he was here, he didn’t know if he were dreaming.

“Liam? Is it really you?”

“I brought the entities here, Killian. I needed to get you here somehow. I knew you’d be able to expose what truly happened that day. Took you long enough.” Liam chuckled, causing Killian to sob.

“I don’t understand- how can those ghosts be me if i’m-”

“They represent parts of you, brother.”

Casper. He represents the childlike innocence that was lost once their father abandoned them. Liam saved that side of Killian by stepping up and taking care of him, trying his hardest not to make his brother grow up faster than he had to.

Shadow represents the darkness that threatened to overtake Killian in his adolescence, but Liam helped keep at bay, always keeping his brother on the right path.

Squealer is the fear Killian let go of every time he felt he was failing. With the courage Liam gave him, he became a strong man, a good father and a motivated survivor.

And Crackers is a representation of what Killian could become if he doesn’t let his mission go.

“I managed to get them here so I could see you one last time.” Liam confessed. “I know you needed to see me one last time, Killian, the same as I needed to see you... but you have to promise me to let this go now.”

“But how can I go on without you?” Killian sobbed. “I don’t know how to be a better man- without you by my side. I’m lost, brother.”

“You listen to me. You’ve already become more than I could ever have imagined- Alice has become such a bright, confident young woman- that was you. You’re a great father and will continue to be a great man. You just need to see the power inside yourself.” Liam beamed. “I’m proud of you.”

And with once last goodbye, Liam departed, taking the entities with him as he left.

Alice and Killian spent the rest of the night comforting each other as they cried their grief.

By morning, they were armed with the evidence needed to bring down Mr Gold and Ms Mills, bringing justice to those who lost their lives through their evil schemes.

“Where to now, papa?”

“Wherever you like, love.” Killian smiled. “We can go wherever you want.”

Alice thought it over. While she was still missing her friend Casper, she’d found that she’d started a home in this town. She had found Robin and felt like she belonged here. She wasn’t ready to start again.

“Can we stay here? I quite like it.”

Killian chuckled “It’s a good thing a particular mansion just went on the market ey?”

“We couldn’t afford it.” Alice scoffed.

“I don’t know... with all the fear of it being ‘haunted’ I have a feeling it’ll be rather cheap, don’t you?”

#knightrook #liam jones #kmsprime

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anistarrose · 5 years

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Some Sunny Day - Ch. 11: Trust (Gravity Falls - Same Coin Theory)

Summary: When you’ve spent eons twisting the truth — especially if you’re good at it, as any con man should be — you don’t always notice when you’re not lying anymore.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts and self harm (nothing graphic, everyone lives)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947964/chapters/45097483

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The Beginning

(The Same Coin Theory is by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris!)

The shadows of shifting tree branches dappled the forest floor as sunbeams shone down from a cloudless blue sky, and Ford’s eyes burned and watered as they stubbornly refused to adjust to the late afternoon light. The greens and browns of the trees and grass looked subdued to him, like color was seeping out of the whole forest and leaving it pastel.

After Ford had filled in the others, quietly and without making eye contact, on the time paradox they seemed to be wrapped up in, they’d come this way — to a hilly patch of terrain between the manor and the Mystery Shack — on the assumption that Stan might hide here if he didn’t want to be found, and sent McGucket with Wendy and Melody to check further north. But aside from the distant chirping of robins, and one single glimpse of a deer that had chosen to brave the sweltering June heatwave instead of resting in the shade like all the other animals, the forest seemed almost eerily lifeless.

Just as Ford had reasoned, it was a very good place to flee to if you didn’t want to be found, with uneven terrain and close-packed groves that provided no shortage of places to hide — even for a being that lacked the power to rewrite reality. Stanley, or whatever remained of him, was nowhere to be seen.

They passed a solitary birch tree flanked by pines on all sides, and Dipper finally broke the somber silence that had consumed the past few moments.

“Can… can he leave the barrier around Gravity Falls?”

Ford understood his hesitant choice of words — because of course Stan had proven himself just as capable of leaving as any other human, but with Bill having evidently awoken somehow, the answer was no longer so clear-cut.

“My guess is that he can, although his reality-warping powers should stop working once outside… but I’m not sure about that, not sure at all. I hope —”

Not looking where he was going, Ford nearly tripped over a rock, and something caught his eye as he staggered forwards. They weren’t far from the Shack at all, but he was sure he’d never noticed it before…

A dozen feet away from him stood a swingset, battered and rusted — except no, not quite a swingset after all, it dawned on him as he approached. At first he’d only glimpsed it in the corner of his peripheral vision, and filled in the blanks based off what he’d come to know, and recognize, and expect — but he hadn’t quite been right, this time.

It was not a swingset, but just one lonely swing, empty yet swaying back and forth ever so slightly. There were no broken chains hanging next to it, nor any empty space on the bar above to indicate another seat had ever been suspended at its side — just one swing without a partner, swaying mournfully in an invisible wind as if lamenting what had never been.

Face it, Sixer — you never had a twin.

“No,” Ford whispered. “No.”

He was helplessly lightweight, like the ground beneath his feet — no, like his entire world was collapsing around him and plummeting into a chasm from which there could be no return.

“He — he was real! He had to have been real! He was more than just — than just one of Bill’s tricks!”

He grabbed the swing by the chains and shook them, grimacing at the high-pitched creaks as their rust crumbled and dusted the ground in red-orange.

You never had a twin. You never had a twin. You never had a twin. You never —

“LIAR! Stanley was real, and my brother, and — and he’s — he’s still —”

The tears were running all down his face now, but they weren’t because of the sunlight anymore. (They might have never been.)

If Stan wasn’t real, then what even am I? Who am I without a twin? What does anything matter if —

“Why?!” he howled, not to any swing or any demon but to the universe itself, to whatever forces set in motion the events of giving him a brother, a twin, a hero, a friend, and then undoing all of that in just one damned summer day. “Why won’t you let him be real?”

Two parallel weak links snapped in unison, and Ford crumpled to the ground alongside the swing — still clutching the rusted, useless lifeline. The ache in his knees as they struck the earth was dull and distant, drowned out by a flood of grief-stricken sobs and desperate pleas —

Stanley, or Bill, or whoever you are, please… please show me you’re still here…

Behind the kids and Soos, something lit up. Back turned and eyes closed, Ford couldn’t see it happen, but he felt it nonetheless — felt it in the quickening of his heartbeat, the shakiness of his breaths, the sharp pains in his palms as he gripped the chains like he was trying to strangle the life out of them — and he slowly stood up to face it, unsure if he should be feeling hope or fear.

He saw sunbeams spill down in a perfect equilateral triangle at the boundary between the clearing and the forest, bleaching all the trees white like birches and scorching the leaves until they were left an ashen gray. Floating in the triangle’s center, legs hanging limp and toes hovering inches above the silvery grass, was Stan.

The first thing Ford looked to was his eyes — still as brown and sorrowful as ever — and it was only when he heard a gasp from Mabel that he directed his gaze down.

A fist-shaped hole punched straight through Stan’s chest, edges of the cavity burning blue as cracks spread out all across his torso. They crept slowly and steadily further like slow-motion lightning bolts, snaking up his neck and down his arms, branching out and criss-crossing each other until it looked like a stiff breeze could break Stan apart, could easily shatter him into a thousand fragments that would be lost forever to the wind in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry, Ford… fuck, I’m so sorry… but this is just the way it is.” Stan’s voice was even more hoarse than usual, and so soft that Ford might have strained to hear it had the forest not been so silent. “The way it has to be —”

“No, it isn’t!”

Soos barged forwards, coming to a halt only at the edge of the illuminated triangle. “You can’t go, Mr. Pines! There’s nothing you could have done in a previous life to change that you’re our family now, and that we still love you no matter what, and —”

He let out a sob. “And that I don’t know what I’d do with myself if we lost you…”

Stan slowly raised a hand to his chest as Soos spoke, pulling away quickly the second his fingers grazed the edge of the wound — but were Ford’s eyes playing tricks on him, or had the cracks stopped growing?

“Oh, Soos…” Stan whispered. “You don’t really believe that…”

“No, he’s right!” Dipper agreed. “Ever since you’ve been Stan, you’ve done nothing but save us from Bill — you didn’t just stop Weirdmageddon, but you taught me how to fight in the mindscape, too! We wouldn’t have stood a chance back then without you, and nothing that you’ve only just remembered today is gonna erase all those times you protected us!”

“You don’t understand,” Stan told him. “I was never Stan. I —”

His voice cut out as he stared down at his arms, where the cracks were slowly retreating — slowly healing — as the blue fire around the hole in his chest died down to a gentle glow.

“You’re so different from Bill, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel added. “You have to realize that! Last summer, Bill asked me who would ever sacrifice everything just for their sibling, like he didn’t understand who would, but — but you would, Stan! You have, and that’s something Bill would never do!”

She sniffed. “And that’s — that’s how I know it’s always been my Grunkle in there, and never any demonic equilateral jerk!”

Stan shook his head. “Mabel, I — I’m so sorry, I… I want to believe it, I really do, but that — that’s just not true. You fell for a trick I didn’t even realize I was playing on you, ‘cause I —”

He took a shaky breath, and the spiderweb of cracks across his chest pulsated in blue. “A long time ago, I told your great uncle to lie until he couldn’t remember what was a lie and what wasn’t — and that’s exactly what I did. I pretended to be Stanley until I really believed I was him, and you all believed I was some kind of hero, but — but I’m not. I’m just —”

“But that’s not all you told me, remember?” Ford interrupted.

Despite everything, and surprising even himself, he suddenly couldn’t help but smile.

“You also said to lie until what you wanted to be true became true. To lie until you weren’t lying anymore.”

Stan’s eyes widened, and Ford choked out a low, sad laugh.

“And in any other story, that would be just about the worst moral imaginable, but… but you, Stan? You succeeded at it. You may not have always been Stanley Pines, but you sure as hell aren’t Bill Cipher anymore — and I can’t think of who else you could’ve possibly become.”

“No, Ford, it — it doesn’t work like that…”

“Why can’t it?” Ford asked. “I’m not aware of any precedent — are you?”

His voice was hoarse and uneven from all the sobbing and shouting of just a few minutes ago, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling forth, coming to him faster than he could speak. He didn’t know how he’d missed it before, because it had always been so obvious, so clearly encoded into Stan’s greatest strengths and what Bill himself had flat-out told him thirty-odd years ago.

“If we were to try and define Stanley Pines, we would have to establish ‘a love of his family’ as a core trait, wouldn’t we?” Ford went on. “Surely no entity could lack that love and dedication and still be called Stanley…”

He paced as he spoke, before pausing to make eye contact with Stan. “But you’re not lying about loving us, are you?”

Stan bit his lip, and shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. This whole day, you’ve been so worried about inadvertently hurting us, so desperate to keep us safe, and happy too — but you wouldn’t care about that in the slightest, if you were Bill and nothing more. And there are other things that make you you, of course — but I don’t think you’re lying about any of those, either. You’re not lying about about toffee peanuts being your favorite food, or about how you’ve always dreamed of writing comic books, or about how there’s almost nothing in the universe that you love more than going fishing with your family. You never lied about wanting to sail around the world on the adventure of a lifetime with me, or about missing me when I was stuck on the other side of the portal…”

Ford brushed a sleeve to his face, wiping away tears, and then extended open arms in Stan’s direction.

“And if those things didn’t make you Stanley — if they didn’t make you an uncle and a father and a brother and a hero to us — then what would? You’re not lying about who you are anymore — and you haven’t been for a long time, I think. You only lied until what you wanted to be true became true — and what you want is a family, isn’t it? Because you’ve really, truly found one.”

Tongues of blue flame stretched out from the edges of the hole in Stan’s chest, twisting together and solidifying into flesh and bone, closing up the wound as Ford let out a breath of relief for what felt like the first time all day.

“And gods know, you’ve earned it,” he whispered.

Stan sank to the ground, stumbling backwards the second his feet landed on the earth. Familiar chains materialized behind him, and he lowered himself into the swing they suspended, crossing his legs at the ankles and then burying his head in his hands.

“Thank you, Ford,” he murmured. “Thank — thank you, everyone. But…”

Ford sat down in the adjacent seat of the swingset, rocking back and forth slightly and remaining just within arm’s reach of Stan. “What’s wrong?”

“…I still don’t think I can stay.”

Ford’s stomach leapt into his throat.

“Why not?!” Mabel gasped.

Stan pulled his hands away from his eyes and looked around, between Dipper and Mabel and then to Soos before finally shifting in his swing to face Ford, frown small but visibly trembling.

“I want to stay, I really do, Ford. And I think — I think you’re right that I am Stan, right now, but… I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

Ford shook his head. “I don’t understand…”

“I’m probably just gonna turn back into Bill eventually,” Stan told him softly, carrying on in a voice hardly above a whisper even as the others interjected. “The memories, they’re still coming back, and it’s like — it’s like falling into the Bottomless Pit, Ford. I was Bill for so much longer than I’ve been Stan. It’s all coming back piece by piece, all those memories of the monstrous things I’ve done — one fiery fucking explosion in my head at a time, and I don’t think it’s gonna stop any time soon. And I’m afraid that sooner or later, Stanley is gonna — I’m gonna suffocate in all this smoke, and someone else is gonna take over again.”

He sucked in a deep breath, as if just to reassure himself that he still could. Dipper and Mabel had arms around each other’s shoulders and were both staring at the ground, as Soos covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, hat removed and pressed against his chest.

“What you’re seeing right now — me still wanting to protect you, me still being a half-decent person, almost — this isn’t me remembering everything. This isn’t me fighting to hold onto myself, to hold onto how much I love you all, against a billion eons of anger and selfishness and near-omnipotence. This is just the start.”

“Oh, Stan… I didn’t realize…”

“It might not happen for a long time — it might not even be in your lifetimes, for all I know — but it could be tomorrow, too! It might be gradual and I might be able to tell when it’s coming and warn you before, but one of these days I’m really worried Bill is gonna…”

His knuckles were white as he gripped the chains, like they were the only thing stopping his humanity from being ripped away from him.

“I want to keep being your brother, Ford, but… I don’t know if I can keep hanging on forever. And if I can’t, if — if Bill comes back… you’re all gonna want me gone before that, if you know what I mean.”

The forest went silent aside from the slow, rhythmic creaks of Stan gently rocking on his swing, feet not leaving the ground as he half-heartedly pushed himself back and forth. Ford held his glasses in his hands — smudged and dampened by tears, and now collecting dust particles as he ran his feet over the sandy patch of earth beneath his seat — though he couldn’t remember taking them off in the first place.

“I want to believe that you can make it through this,” he began slowly. “You’ve made it through so much hardship already; you’re a fighter, and you’re so devoted to family and love. I believe in you, Stanley, and I believe that you have the strength to stay you…”

He noticed Stan frowning and staring at his feet.

“But even if I’m right… it’s one of those things that’s difficult to stop worrying about, isn’t it? I — I know what those things are like, those things that’ll haunt you for as long as you live — no matter how illogically, no matter how much evidence you amass to try and convince yourself it isn’t a concern. Being absolutely certain that you’ll never become Bill again — it’s proving a negative, and that’s notoriously difficult.”

Stan nodded slowly. Tiny particles of rust crumbled off the chains where his hands gripped them, forming splotches of red on the sandy ground below.

“Some would even say impossible,” Ford went on. “And with regards to our perspective, at least, I would agree — none of us can definitively tell that Bill is gone for good.”

“Wait,” Dipper cut in. “Are you saying there’s someone who would know?”

Stan’s swing abruptly stopped creaking as he froze in place.

Ford nodded. “Stan, I was hoping to research a summoning ritual on my own, but… well, I got distracted, so I don’t think I can do this without your help. Do you… have you remembered any way of getting in contact with the Axolotl?”

Stan muttered something to himself that Ford couldn’t make out, and felt like he maybe wasn’t meant to hear anyways.

“You don’t — you don’t have to go trawling through Bill’s memories for the answer, if you don’t want to —”

“No, I think I can get a line open,” Stan whispered. “But… but if the Axolotl says there’s even a chance I might turn into Bill again, I need you to promise you’ll… let me go. And really promise this time, Ford, not like whatever kinda ‘promise’ you made when I asked you to shoot me… even though I’m kinda glad that you didn’t, and we had this talk.”

“Stanley…”

“Look, let’s just — forget about your own safety for a second, I know you’re good at that. Can’t you at least accept that I’d rather die as myself, instead of as — as the demon who hurt everyone I care about?”

Ford looked at the kids and Soos, watching with something inbetween horror and grief, and then back to Stan, eyes terrified and pleading.

“I promise,” he told Stan, “but only because I trust you, no matter how little you trust yourself.”

Stan gave a single nod, eyes averted and lips pressed tightly together, and a small sphere of light pink fog materialized in front of him, swirling slowly as it began to expand. Cloudlike tendrils reached out from it, meandering and twitching like the detached tails of an unseen creature, before approaching all five observers and gently brushing against their foreheads…

For one paradoxical moment, infinitesimally short yet eternally long, Ford was in a hundred places at once, reliving a hundred days of his life all at once — but most quickly faded into background noise as one memory grew more vivid than all the others, one warm summer afternoon spent with sand in his shoes, sunburn all across his back, and splinters in his hands from climbing aboard a shipwrecked sailboat with Stanley.

He smiled to Stan, who smiled back at him, and Ford just knew that Stan was flashing back throughout his life in the same way, and that this was the clearest of all his memories, too.

Then they both opened their eyes, and found themselves adrift in the time and space between time and space.

***

(Thanks for reading, reblogs/feedback are welcomed as always! Only two more chapters to go, and after all this time it’s getting to the point where each of these last few updates is bittersweet for me.)

#gravity falls #same coin theory #stanley pines #bill cipher #stanford pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #soos ramirez #fic: some sunny day #rosalia writes fic

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

Text

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (3/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Rating: Mature. Word Count: 9.6K of Killian Jones background and why he’s so jaded. AN: Will and Robin ragging on Killian for every single one of his life choices and how clearly into Emma Swan he already is might be my absolute favorite thing. So here’s more of that. Also Cora. And Regina. And journalism families. And Ariel. And painfully adorable kids! As always I can’t thank you guys for clicking and reading and being generally fantastic. || Also on Ao3 and FF.net and tagged up on Tumblr || Tag List: @jamif ; @alicerubyfloyd ; @courtneyshortney82 ; @jennjenn615 ; @artistic-writer ; @kmomof4 ; @onceuponaprincessworld ; @nikkiemms ; @resident-of-storybrooke ; @whumped-natascha-remi-ronin ; @coliferoncer ; @strangestarlightdetective (Let me know if you want to be tagged or not tagged or just, like, have some feelings.)

He had an office.

And a couch in his office.

He’d never had a couch in an office. He’d never really had an office. And now he had both. He also hadn’t heard a single word from Emma Swan in the last week.

And it might have been driving Killian insane. Slowly, but surely. It might have also been driving his friends insane. He had an office and no reason to use it.

“Some reporter you are,” Will said, not the first time he'd pointed that out. He’d flopped onto the couch without a single word ten minutes before, draping his legs over the side and dropping half a dozen cameras on the floor. “How did you not actually get her number?” Killian didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. He had an answer, just not one he wanted to share with Will Scarlet in an office building that seemed to be some kind of living, breathing entity.

“Is it always this loud in here?” Killian asked instead, leaning back against the absurdly expensive office chair that had come with the absurdly fancy office.

Regina was pulling out every conceivable stop – metaphorical or otherwise – to make this work. He probably would have been impressed if he wasn’t so frustrated that he was a piece of garbage reporter and Emma Swan hadn’t called him to set something up yet.

For the story.

Absolutely for the story.

“It’s an office,” Will reasoned. He still hadn’t sat up. “You worked in a daily for years in several major metropolitan cities. Why is this weird for you?” “It’s not.” “Ok, then why didn’t you ask for contact info? From any of them, but especially the one you’ve been mooning over for the last week?”

Killian scoffed, mostly so his face didn’t dissolve into exactly that. “Excuse me? What was that phrase you just used? Did we just teleport to 1947?” “Why that date?” “A spur of the moment decision.” Will hummed in agreement, shifting on the couch and flopping his head to his side, staring at Killian like they were sophomores in college and trying to figure out how to pay the rent that month. “I’m serious,” he continued.

“I know you are,” Killian sighed, sliding down the chair until his knees were bent in front of him and his shirt was going to get wrinkled, crumpled up against his back. He had research to do. He had a video game to learn and a lifestyle to understand and maybe a blonde to...stalk? No, that sounded too aggressive.

That’s why he’d given her the card and resolved to hope for the best.

Because Killian could pick out a cautious source when he saw it – Emma’s slightly skittish behavior like some kind of flashing neon sign that this wasn’t just going to be easy. Of course not. It was a good story – she was a good story – probably the best story he’d had in as long as he could remember, some kind of decidedly optimistic something that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about for the last week.

But she was nervous and she didn’t really want to talk and, truth be told, he was fairly positive she didn’t really want him there.

The story hadn’t been her idea. Or her team’s idea. It had been some quasi public relations advisor masquerading as an elementary school teacher who had, by some journalistic coincidence, managed to get Regina to listen to her.

And Killian didn’t have time for a story that wasn’t easy and simple and, well, maybe a little fluffy.

What a goddamn disaster.

He should have gotten contact info from the entire, stupid team.

And Emma.

Definitely Emma.

“If you think any harder you’re head is actually going to explode,” Will muttered, grinning at Killian. He’d kicked his shoes off at some point. God.

“Just make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” Killian hissed. He ran his hand through his hair, practically yanking on the ends in frustration and he was no closer to understanding how any of this video game stuff worked than he had been a week before or a year before or ever in his entire life.

He was a fucking awful reporter – with no knowledge of his subject matter.

“It’s not like you’re doing anything else,” Will reasoned. “And I don’t have anywhere to go for awhile. So, uh, yeah, Hook. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Also Locksley said he might show up.” “So you’re babysitting me is what you’re telling me?”

“I said no such thing. You a master of this game, yet? Locksley said…” “Just how many conversations with Robin are you having?” Killian asked and his leg was starting to cramp up, bent the wrong way under his desk. His phone dinged a few feet away from his hand and he nearly jumped towards the sound, ignoring whatever Will did with his face as he reached to grab the thing and, possibly, will a very specific person onto the other end.

It wasn’t even a phone call.

It was a notification.

That he did not remember setting up.

For an e-mail blast he absolutely did not sign up for.

“What the fuck, Gina,” Killian mumbled under his breath and Will sounded like he was actually cackling, one arm thrown over his face as the whole couch shook under his weight. “Jeez, Scarlet, I promise you, it is not that funny.” “It is,” he argued. “Did you have to put your phone number on that mountain of paperwork you signed your life away to last week?” “Probably. It all started to blur together a bit at the end.” Will clicked his tongue. “See, that’s where you made your first mistake. You’ve got to read the fine print, Hook. Otherwise you’re going to get roped into Cora’s, I don’t know, scepter of journalism dominance.” “I don’t think that’s the string of words you were looking for.” “Yeah, well, you didn’t get contact information from your sources, so forgive me for having to take over the mantle of the word leader.” “Stop talking.” Will chuckled again, finally pulling his arm away from his face and swinging his feet back onto the floor. “Seriously, though. That’s Cora’s thing. Everyone in the company gets ‘em when they start. Front page blasts and breaking news blasts and, I’m pretty sure, you can sign up for section specific blasts and keywords and I don’t think I can say the word blast again without actually laughing.” “Yeah, that’s fair,” Killian admitted. “So, wait, that’s Cora’s thing? Not Gina?” “You’ve got to stop thinking we’re all on the same team here.” Killian considered that for a moment, chewing on his lip and wondering when Will learned how to actually look like a serious adult. Probably around the same time Hannah moved to Washington and he stopped taking photos if he wasn’t promised a paycheck. They were, easily, the most depressing group of people in the entire New York metropolitan area.

And Cora Mills was nothing if not ruthless.

That was a good word for it. She’d married into money when she was young – a fact she was quick to point out to anyone with a pulse whether they wanted to listen or not – and made something of that money by building up Mills Media when her husband died. The Daily Caller hadn’t been much more than a glorified blog before Cora decided it was hers and, thirty-odd years later, it was one of the top sites in the entire goddamn world, with enough web traffic to make Killian’s head spin, even if that merlot story had been awful.

He’d clicked on the merlot story.

A lot of people clicked on the merlot story and every story, every day, no matter how trite the headline or the stock photo that went along with it.

It made Cora millions and, by extension, made Regina millions and only one of them was happy with that fact. She’d never admit it out loud – not when her mother was pulling the strings, but, once, Regina wanted a paper and a byline and an outlet that didn’t just tell stories. She wanted to tell good stories. Stories that drew hits and revenue and gave a bit of ink, electronic or otherwise, to the so-called little guy.

Killian graduated with those same ideals and that same hope, evident in every single byline – tell the good story, the true story, the story people otherwise would never hear. That changed in New Orleans and one night and that story was as far from good as anything else. And Regina had gone back to Cora, had lost that shine as soon as the police told her Daniel had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and Killian never believed that story.

But it wasn’t a good one.

It was goddamn depressing.

So he ignored it and he let the depressing seep into everything, let the memory of her sit in the back of his head like a weight until it was as dead as the people he wrote about and that was easier than trying to fight it.

Liam would hate that.

Fuck.

“Hook, you’ve got to stop spacing out on me,” Will said sharply, suddenly right in front of the desk with one hand on the wood and the other one flicking Killian’s left forearm. Killian glared at him. Will didn’t move an inch. “Got your attention didn’t it?” “That’s an absolute dick move,” he growled.

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” “What?” “Regina is staging a battle for your soul.” Killian blinked. And then fell back on sarcasm and being an asshole and that was easy. That was comfortable. “That so?” he asked. “I can’t imagine it’ll be much of a fight.” “Asshole.” “Yes.”

Will rolled his eyes, knocking over a nameplate that likely cost a questionable amount of money so he could sit on the edge of the desk. “Can we have this conversation without you actually cracking jokes? Because this is almost serious and I need you to understand what’s happening here.” Killian wasn’t expecting that – or the look on Will’s face, back to adult and meaningful and he really didn’t have anything else to do. Except maybe try and find an apartment uptown. He was going to move back uptown.

Liam probably wouldn’t like that either.

“Yeah,” Killian promised and it might have been the most sincere thing he’d said in the last week. “Explain, Scarlet.” “Cora didn’t want you here. She didn’t care about your staff cuts or your layoffs or whatever. She, and this is verbatim from Gina, said serves him right for that spiral years ago. I thought Locksley was actually going to punch her.”

Killian stiffened, pressing his feet into the carpet underneath him as he tried to count to ten. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Oxygen was important. Vital. He had to keep breathing. And Cora Mills had no idea what she was talking about.

It wasn’t a spiral.

It was a...downfall.

He’d been twenty-two, a year out of college with a string of bylines and a freelancing gig that was enough to pay the bills and he’d been happy. He was writing. He was telling stories. Until his phone rang. There’d been nothing but a phone call – it wasn’t anything more than a training exercise gone wrong, an engineering mishap that should have been smooth sailing and, even now, the pun made Killian’s tongue feel too big for his mouth and he could taste bile in the back of his throat and the whole world felt like it was falling off its axis again.

Dead.

Captain Liam Jones, pride of no one except his younger brother, was dead. In a goddamn fucking training accident.

And the United States Navy simply expected Killian to move on. Like Liam hadn’t been the foundation of absolutely everything, hadn’t supported a career in journalism like that was even a career, like he hadn’t read every single byline, no matter where he was.

Killian got a check and an apology on template stationary and it took all of five seconds to decide he was done. He left New York the next week, paid off his half of the rent, kissed Regina on the cheek and walked away.

He stopped writing good stories and started writing any story, bouncing from weeklies to dailies to one company in Missouri that might have actually been a glorified newsletter. Until he got to New Orleans and sat down at a bar after writing about a triple homicide that would still probably end up below the fold and she smiled when he spoke.

Like that was just something people did.

Milah Ormagia was sad and tired and she wanted in a way Killian didn’t remember wanting until he saw her. So he took and he found his way back towards something that felt a bit like happiness and if he closed his eyes he could still remember the exact curve of her smile and the way her hair frizzed softly in the humidity and how cold her hand felt in his when he woke up on pavement with lights and sirens blaring around him.

It almost seemed ironic that when the doctors told him they did all they could, they took that hand. He was a goddamn dismal story.

“So,” Killian said, licking his lips and trying to keep his voice even. He wasn’t fooling Scarlet. “If Cora didn’t want me here, how did this happen? It’s not like Gina to just…” “Stand up to her mother like that?” Will suggested. Killian shrugged. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what she said exactly, but whatever it was did the trick. Cora agreed, as long as you bring in the hits. That’s the deal. You write you want. You tell this good story and you bring in the ad revenue and Cora won’t kick you out of this very fancy office.” “When did Gina even find the time to decorate this?” “I’m not convinced she sleeps.” “Yeah, that’s probably true,” Killian mused. “Ok, so let me get this straight. Gina promises Cora I can bring in the numbers and that’s, suddenly, good?” “It’s because she thinks you won’t.” Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Cora wasn’t exactly the nurturing sort. She was more the take what you want and fuck anyone who stands in your way sort. And, in this instance, Killian was very much in the way. And very much a reminder of why Regina wanted to write in the first place.

“Shit,” he sighed, hand back in his hair and shoulders sagging with the sudden weight of the journalism world on his shoulders.

“It’s a good story,” Will said, like that would just make everything alright. “And if you do this the way you can, then, maybe, Cora will loosen up a little bit.” “You honestly believe that?”

Will shrugged, tugging on the end of the Hunter Alumni shirt he must have pulled out of the back corner of his closet that morning. “You can write, Killian,” he said simply. “That’s always been the case. Gina wouldn’t have brought you home if she didn’t agree. Or think you could do something here that can change this whole, stupid clickbait site. But, you know, no pressure or anything.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Killian scoffed. He’d bit his lip, blood in his mouth and nerves in the pit of his stomach and he wished, not for the first time since he’d come back home, that Liam was there. If only to listen to him whine.

God, he wanted to whine.

And maybe talk to Emma Swan again.

“Really though,” Will continued, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. “I’m not saying you’re changing the world with video game stories. But they seemed like good people and it’s interesting and it’s...I don’t know, nice.” “Nice,” Killian echoed skeptically.

“If I used the word good again, my brain is actually going to explode.” Killian smiled, some of the tension that had been tight as a vice at the base of his skull loosening just a bit. “You’re a poet, Scarlet.” “And you don’t have to write about death because it’s the only thing you think you’re worthy of doing anymore. We’ve come full circle. You get to come home, save the integrity of the modern journalism world and get the girl.” “What was that last part?” “Yeah, honestly, what was that last part?” Robin leaned around the open doorway, eyebrows lifted and something that might have been amusement lingering on his face as Killian tried to groan as loudly as he possibly could.

“Don’t you have a section to run?” Killian asked, grabbing one of the, apparently, two-hundred pens sitting on his desk, and tapping it loudly. Robin grinned.

“No,” he said. “It’s a website, Killian. There’s like..three people actually sitting in news right now.” “Oh, to be the high and mighty editorial elite.” “Twerp.”

Killian winced. “That just makes me think you’re disciplining Henry and Roland.” “You think I call my kids twerps? What kind of father do you think I am?”

“Obviously not a very good one,” Will muttered, dropping back into the corner of the couch. “Hey, how come Regina’s never gotten me a fancy office with window walls and a couch that costs more than my rent?” “That couch does not cost more than your rent,” Robin said and it wasn’t an answer to the question. Will lifted his eyebrows. “And it’s because Gina likes Hook more than you, obviously. God knows why, it’s not like he’s actually done anything since he got here.” “Ok, that’s rude,” Killian mumbled, but he couldn’t really argue and maybe Will had gotten phone numbers during the meet and greet. He probably would have mentioned that. He absolutely wouldn’t have mentioned that.

God damn.

“Is it because he’s thinking about this girl?” Robin asked, ignoring Killian completely and sinking down next to Will with a very specific look on his face. Maybe if Killian just walked out they wouldn’t notice. He could...do something else. Anything else.

He could go back to that midtown bar and ask Granny for a phone number. Or apartment address. Or Emma Swan’s entire life history.

That last one seemed kind of extreme.

Although even the idea of walking into the middle of Times Square on a Friday in the summer was enough to leave Killian wondering where exactly he’d misplaced his mind.

“It’s totally about this girl,” Will confirmed. “She was pretty, Hook. I get it.” “God, shut up,” Killian hissed and this all felt a little juvenile. Two minutes ago they’d been talking about his entire life falling off the rails and how much Cora Mills still hated him just for breathing and now Will Scarlet was trying to gossip with him about girls like they were fourteen.

“She was!” “Wait, wait,” Robin interrupted, hands flailing through the open air in front of him. “You met her? Also can we stop using the word girl, it’s freaking me out.” “We could just stop talking about this completely,” Killian suggested, but the words might have been in Latin for all the good they did him. Will was already talking over him.

“Yeah, I met her,” he said, grabbing a camera off the ground and toying with the controls on the top until he, apparently, found what he was looking for. “Here,” he continued, pushing the screen towards Robin’s face until the older man’s eyebrows shifted slightly and he hummed in the back of his throat.

“She is pretty. Is that...Hook are you the guy sitting at that booth?” Killian tried not to throw something – like his very expensive new office chair through the wall of windows behind him. Or his actual body through the wall of windows behind him. “Who else do you think it would be?” he asked impatiently.

“I have no idea,” Robin admitted, not pulling his eyes away from the few inches of photo screen. “This is just...you look happy?” “That sounded like a question.” “It kind of was. I actually think you’re smiling and you’re leaning forward. With both hands. Oh shit, Scarlet. Look at this. He’s got both hands on the table.” Will snatched the camera out of Robin’s hands, mouth going slack when he realized it was true and Killian bit his lip until he could taste blood again. When he’d woken up in the hospital they’d told him he’d been out of it for a few days and that one of his lungs had collapsed and he had four broken ribs and his left arm probably wouldn’t ever be totally straight again – or complete.

He wasn’t ever much of an athlete or particularly vain, but Killian didn’t think it was selfish to want to be a whole, human being and as soon as they’d released him from the hospital, he’d realized he wouldn’t ever be.

Not again.

So he did his best to ignore it. That was a bit of a trend for him. Ignore and move on and keep writing. And never draw attention to it, the piece of plastic at the end of his arm and the straps that held it in place and left little rivets on his skin no matter what he seemed to do to try and make it even remotely comfortable.

“Oh fuck, he’s right, Hook,” Will mumbled and either they didn’t realize this was exactly the kind of conversation Killian didn’t want to have or they absolutely did not care. It was probably the second one. “You’re totally leaning in. That’s a thing, right?” “A thing?” Killian repeated. “Yeah, you know, like a peacock or something.” “English.” “He’s saying you’re into her,” Robin explained. “He has no idea how body language or animals work and it’s ruining his metaphors.” “Ah, well, yeah, of course.” “She work at that restaurant where you met the team?” Will made some kind of strangled sound, seemingly trying to melt into the corner of the couch and Robin looked incredibly confused. Actually jumping through the wall seemed like a pretty appealing option. “What am I missing?” Robin continued.

“I mean, she does kind of work at the restaurant,” Killian mumbled. “So you’re not totally wrong. I don’t think she’ll have much time for that though. If this works out.” “If what works out?” “The League cut. They’re totally going to make the cut so…” “You’re not making any sense.” “She’s on the team,” Will muttered, staring at the photo again and whatever animal metaphor he was trying to come up with. “Or, more to the point, she is the team.”

Robin was standing up and pacing and glaring at Killian like he was actually his kid and had just shown up with a detention slip. “What the fuck, Killian?” he asked sharply, not even bothering to slow down when he started talking.

He was picking up speed.

“It’s not like anything happened,” Killian argued, not quite sure what it was he was arguing exactly. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. He’d talked. And given her his card. And maybe participated in some entirely harmless flirting.

That’s what that had been, right?

It felt a hell of a lot like flirting. Or maybe friendship? They could be friends. They should probably be friends. That would make a year-long feature series easier. If they made the cut next week.

They were totally going to make the cut.

Killian could be friends with Emma Swan. He wanted to be friends with Emma Swan. And he was kind of terrified of Ruby Lucas, fairly certain she’d actually eat him if he dared put a toe out of line.

“Both hands, Killian,” Robin shouted, skidding to a stop in front of the desk and staring at him like he was defying him to object.

“There is only one hand, Locksley,” Killian said softly. “That’s how it works now. And nothing happened. Or will happen. Ethics or whatever.” Will whistled, low and judgmental and Killian wished he’d leave and wished Robin would stop doing that thing with his face. His phone made noise again – another e-mail blast. “You know you can turn those off,” Robin said, an apology without actually using the words.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“Man, Scarlet gets all the good updates first.” “You’re busy. That section we talked about. Or whatever.” “You’ve got to come up with another word.” “My vocabulary has been kind of limited recently. It’ll get better once I start writing again.” Robin quirked an eyebrow, tongue pressed on the inside of his cheek and Killian tried to take a deep breath. He just needed to write something. If he started writing something, anything, the rest of it would all fall into place.

He was positive.

“Yeah, I know,” Robin said. This had been the strangest conversation. Killian probably shouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about Emma Swan in the last few days. She had impossibly green eyes. “Although, for what it’s worth, she was leaning in too.”

Killian didn’t say anything. He couldn’t come up with a single word. And there was another person in his office.

“Hi, hi, hi,” Ariel said brusquely, nodding at each one of them in turn before settling on Robin. “We are having some kind of link disaster.” “What?” Robin balked. The shift from concerned friend and quasi parent to front page managing editor was abrupt and just a bit jarring – his shoulders rolled back and his spine seemed to extend and Killian was half positive the slight gray at his temples looked a bit more distinguished all of the sudden.

“A link disaster,” Ariel repeated. “People are calling. Aurora’s losing her mind. I think Regina made her cry already.” “Oh my God,” Killian laughed, earning the ire of Robin’s glare. He grinned in response. “C’mon, Gina’s making people named Aurora cry. Who’s Aurora?” “Her assistant,” Ariel explained. Killian hummed in understanding, appreciating whatever attitude the receptionist had that allowed her to just barrel into his office like she owned it. “And she’s still kind of shaking at her desk. Because none of the links on the main page are going where they’re supposed to be going. You click on one thing and it goes to a totally different story.”

“Well, that’s not ideal,” Will laughed, thumb spinning something on the back of the camera. Robin looked like he wanted to beat him with it.

“Thank you, Scarlet,” he bit out before softening his expression slightly when he glanced back at Ariel. “Do you know where Gina is now that she’s done terrorizing assistants? She hasn’t killed any interns has she?” “We have interns?” Killian asked, joining the conversation and working another groan out of Robin. “That’s a fair question.” “Maybe not during a link crisis,” Ariel reasoned and he shrugged, pressing his lips together. “I told Aurora she needed to fix the base code, but she’s totally freaked, so I don’t think there’s anything to do on that front and Sydney is, apparently, missing in action so that’s why Cora’s pissed. More so than usual.” “You know how to fix this?” Robin asked, something that sounded a bit like desperation creeping into his voice.

Ariel shook her head. “I know the general idea of how to fix this. Sydney’s engineering or whatever his card says.” “Engineering’s just a very fancy way of saying IT. If you can fix this now, at least stem the damage, Gina might build a statue of you in the lobby.” “It’d be difficult to see around my desk if she did that.” “Yeah, you really here for the receptionist gig?” She shook her head again, hair hitting against the side of her chin and no one in that office was really telling the full story. That was kind of ironic too. Maybe it was because they’d used the word good so often.

“No,” Ariel admitted softly and Killian bit back a grin. “You want to go fix this link disaster though? Because I really think Aurora’s going to have some kind of actual episode if we don’t fix at least the main story.” “The main story’s fucked up too?” “What part of emergency did you not understand, Locksley?” Will asked, not even bothering to disguise his laugh. “Aren’t you an editor?” “Don’t ask him that,” Killian warned. “He’ll bite your head off.” “Both of you, shut up,” Robin snapped. “Ariel, what time is it? And how long do you think this emergency is going to last?” She tugged her phone – buzzing and possibly flashing some kind of morse code – out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Uh, nearly four-thirty. And I have no idea. Again, emergency kind of suggests it’s bad. We should have fixed this five minutes ago.” “Shit. Ok, um, Aurora probably can’t cope with the Subway right now, right?” Will pushed off the corner of the couch to glance over the row of cubicles on the office floor in front of them and whatever he saw seemed to make it painfully obvious that Aurora absolutely, positively could not hand the Subway at four-thirty on a Friday afternoon.

“Yeah, uh,” he stammered, dropping back onto the cushion with a thump. “That’s not happening right now.” “Shit,” Robin repeated. He grabbed his own phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he clenched his jaw tightly. “Maybe they can stay a little while longer.” “Who are you talking about?” Killian asked, fairly certain he was only half involved in the conversation taking place in his own office. That was still a weird sentence.

“He’s referring to his kids as a collective they,” Will mumbled. Robin kicked him, a string of insults that absolutely would not have been appropriate in front of his kids falling out of his mouth. “And he’s talking about picking them up from that summer program. You know where Gina met that teacher who suggested the story that your whole career is depending on?” “You are the soul of tact. And I can go get ‘em. It’s not like I’m doing anything here. I know shit about coding.” Will rolled his eyes. “You want to date your lead source.” Ariel perked up at that, eyes flashing Killian’s direction. Robin kicked Will again. “He’s not doing that,” he said, sounding like he was issuing some sort of journalism decree. “You’d really go get ‘em, Hook? Honestly?”

“Yeah, sure,” Killian nodded, grabbing his phone off the desk. He hadn’t brought anything else. He didn’t have anything to write yet.

Robin exhaled loudly, clapping him on the shoulder like he’d also just agreed to pay the tuition for whatever fancy school Henry and Roland went to. “Thanks,” he breathed, nodding towards Ariel as she moved back towards the door and the emergency. “Just bring them back home when you’re done and Gina will probably let you eat dinner with us. Scarlet can come too.” “Wow, gee thanks, Locksley,” Will muttered, slinging his cameras back over his shoulders. “No can do though. I’ve got a date.” “What?” Killian and Robin shouted at the same time. Robin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Who?” Killian pressed and Will just grinned, a stupid, frustrating look that made him regret coming into the office to begin with at all.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells. Go save Locksley’s kids, Hook. I’ve got places to be.” He walked out of the office with the grin still plastered on his face and cameras hitting against his thigh, Ariel already loudly comforting Aurora on the other side of the floor. Robin didn’t move an inch, just kept staring at Killian like he was waiting for him to explode.

Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

Maybe he should take a cab.

“You ok?” he asked. “Honestly?” Killian’s lips twitched, the lie on the tip of his tongue getting twisted there. He nodded. Robin sighed. “You’ve got to work on that,” he mumbled. “Rol and Henry will be thrilled to see you. Don’t get ice cream.” It took Killian four blocks of stop-and-go traffic to decide, without question, that they were going to get ice cream. With sprinkles.

Living on the edge.

He’d probably expense it.

It took him another two blocks to decide he probably should have walked.

He handed the driver a handful of bills, promising he was sure, yeah, yeah, it’s fine as he dodged between oncoming traffic and made his way up 3rd Avenue. The school itself didn’t stand out much – set between the brownstones and ivy-covered walls that were the norm downtown, but Killian could hear voices and laughter and something that might have actually been a basketball bouncing.

Or multiple basketballs.

And if he was in the sudden habit of keeping track of how long it took to realize things, it would have taken Killian two seconds, one deep breath and four basketball dribbles to know, without question, he was in the right spot. The very solid weight colliding with the side of his jeans was also a good sign.

“K, K, K, K,” Roland mumbled, added a few well placed punches in between nicknames. It was somewhere in between punch two and three that Killian felt any lingering frustration over the conversation in his office – and the promise that he absolutely did not want to date Emma Swan – ebbing just a bit as soon as the seven-year-old next to him wrapped his arms around his thigh.

There were other footsteps running towards them and Killian dimly heard Henry yell Hook from the other side of the basketball court as he bent down to pry Roland’s hands off his jeans, hauling him up his side and groaning slightly when a knee collided with his gallbladder. “Steady on, mate,” Killian muttered. He got kneed in the liver that time.

“Roland, you can’t just run away like that,” said a flustered woman, sprinting towards them with wide eyes and a basketball tucked under her arm.

Roland made a noise, a mix between a scoff and a groan and Henry laughed in the background. Killian tried to look like an adult. “I didn’t run away, Mrs. Nolan,” Roland explained, sounding like he was detailing how to fix the coding emergency Killian had run away from. “I came to see K.” Mrs. Nolan’s eyes, somehow, got even wider, eyebrows shooting up her forehead and her mouth formed an almost perfect ‘o’ when she realized. She looked like a teacher, Killian thought, all bright-colored dress and a soft cardigan that matched the clip in her short, brown hair.

“Huh,” she said, regarding him softly and Killian felt like he was being judged. Or maybe examined to match up on previously reported facts.

That seemed like wishful thinking.

“Hook,” Henry said again, skidding to a stop in front of him and only avoiding another crash when Killian reached out a steadying hand. “How come you’re here? I thought Robin was coming to get us?” “Where’s Dad?” Roland asked. Shouted. He shouted the word into Killian’s ears. Mrs. Nolan was still staring.

“There was a thing at the site,” Killian explained, hitching Roland back up again when he started to droop, threatening to tear his shirt in half. “So I’m here. With ice cream as a bartering chip.”

Henry’s eyes lit up, smile practically sprinting across his face, and Roland was already yelling about chocolate chip cookie dough. Mrs. Nolan hadn’t blinked. “Alright,” Killian continued slowly, nodding back towards the sidewalk. “You guys ready to go? Do I have to sign anything or…” “Wait, wait,” Mrs. Nolan said quickly, tugging on Roland’s sleeve when Killian took a step backwards. “You can’t just leave.” “No?” “No,” she said sharply and he was back to feeling like he was getting detention. “I mean...who, well, no, I know who are you. But there are rules. An actual parent is supposed to let us know if someone different is going to be picking the kids up. You’re not on the list.” “That’s kind of insulting,” Killian muttered, working another laugh out of Henry and that was absolutely why he’d done it. He slung his arm over the kid’s shoulders – only a few inches shorter than him – and tried to plaster on his most convincing smile. “I mean, they clearly know who I am.” “The rules, Mr. Jones.” “You clearly know who I am.” Mrs. Nolan grimaced, a muscle in her temple jumping and Killian felt guilty for a moment. She almost looked too teacher’y. She shouldn’t look as stressed out as she was. Jeez. “Were you going to go next week?” she asked and that wasn’t the question he expected at all.

Killian opened his mouth to respond, but another voice joined the melee and his eyes were going to go permanently crossed if he kept trying to look at everyone at once. Ruby Lucas looked just as intimidating as she had in her grandmother’s Midtown restaurant the week before, only now she was wearing a Legend of Zelda t-shirt that was, clearly, far more interesting to the two kids in the conversation than Killian’s initial ice cream offer.

“What are you doing here?” Ruby asked. Straight to the point then.

“There was a coding emergency at work and Robin couldn’t pick up Henry and Rol,” Killian answered. “So I’m here.” “You know Henry and Roland?” “I mean, yeah, obviously.”

“K’s going to take us to get ice cream,” Roland added helpfully, squirming when Killian muttered a little quieter, mate against his hair.

Ruby quirked an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be writing?” “Shouldn’t you be practicing?” Mrs. Nolan tried to turn her laugh into a cough, ducking her eyes when Killian and Ruby both gaped at her. “I’m also helping out a friend,” Ruby said softly. “And we practiced this morning. Not that you’d know, since you’ve been missing in action for the last week.” “Is that a gaming term?” Killian asked.

Henry groaned. “Hook, we’ve been over this. You can’t call it that. It just makes you sound old.”

Ruby might have actually smiled. Mrs. Nolan laughed again. “Are you taking lessons from Henry?” Ruby asked knowingly.

“I have yet to find a better teacher,” Killian admitted. “In fact, post ice cream, that was the great, big Friday night plan, wasn’t it? Or it would be if we can leave. Mrs. Nolan’s call though.” “Oh man, laying it on real thick aren’t you?” Killian shrugged. “M’s did you hear that? He called you Mrs. Nolan. I’m going to tell Ruth.”

“She’ll probably think it’s nice,” Mary Margaret muttered. “This is a one-time favor, Mr. Jones. And only because I have no idea what a coding emergency is.”

“That’s ok, neither do I. That’s why I’m here. And let’s not do that Mr. Jones thing again, that’s incredibly weird.” She nodded, tossing the ball back to the group of kids behind her when they started shouting. “You didn’t answer my question, you know. About next week.” He hadn’t. He’d been hoping to avoid that. He was an absolute shit journalist. “I’m hoping to,” Killian said. Mary Margaret glanced at Ruby.

“Don’t you know?” “It’d be helpful for the story.” “And,” Ruby prodded, widening her eyes meaningfully.

“And I’m waiting for some more details,” Killian responded simply. Good. That was good. That was honest. Ruby didn’t look convinced.

“Well that’s dumb. I thought you were supposed to be a good journalist. Or at least a journalist who wanted to prove he was still good. Haven’t you won awards? Unless the Google results lied to us.” Killian pressed his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing back his immediate retort when he remembered there was a seven-year-old clinging to his side and an eleven-year-old under his arm and he was an adult, god damn. He could have this conversation – even if it felt like six different conversations at once.

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret chastised, flashing an apologetic look at Killian. “Ignore her. She’s been outside for too long, it’s throwing off her zen or something.”

“Ah, yeah, video game stereotypes.” “Exactly that. Can I, uh, can I give you some advice?” “Solicited or forced?” Mary Margaret’s eyes narrowed and Killian ducked his gaze, suddenly far more preoccupied with his shoes than whatever was happening on that blacktop in downtown Manhattan. Henry laughed against his side. “Suggested,” Mary Margaret corrected, reaching out to rest her palm on the arm he still had wrapped around Roland’s waist. “This is all vaguely...terrifying for, well, you know. But, uh, I wouldn’t have said anything to Regina if I didn’t think this could work. For all of you. And she totally Google’d your name on my couch a week ago.” Killian’s stomach twisted at that, several knots that even Liam probably would have been proud of forming in his gut. It might have also been Roland’s knee. And he could only imagine what she found on the internet.

Fuck.

He was going to get chocolate dip on his ice cream – forget the goddamn sprinkles.

“Ah, well,” he stammered, eyes still staring at his feet. “That’s...good to know. And I kind of got that impression already.” “Good.” “So what are you going to do about it?” Ruby asked sharply and Killian jerked his head back up. He nearly dropped Roland.

“Excuse me?” Mary Margaret sighed, her hand falling across her face until she was peering at them between her fingers. Ruby didn’t budge an inch. “I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” she growled. “How come you haven’t been back to practice? Or have a concrete answer about writing something for the cut? We’re totally going to make the cut.” “I know,” Killian said easily.

Ruby’s eyebrows pulled low, head tilted slightly and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Yeah?” “Why wouldn’t I think that?” “Shouldn’t you answer questions better? You’re a journalist.” “You keep throwing that fact in my face,” Killian laughed. “Trust me, I’m aware of it. And I’m purposely avoiding questions because I know how.” “That is infuriating.” “Try doing it on deadline.” Ruby grinned that slightly predatory grin, tongue pressed against her cheek and she turned to look at Mary Margaret again like she was looking for confirmation of...something. Mary Margaret nodded. “Ok,” Ruby said, holding her hand out expectantly. “I’m going to do something, but if you screw this up, I’m going to push you in front of the uptown 1. Got it?” “That is oddly specific,” Killian muttered. Ruby wiggled her fingers. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Your phone. I want your phone. I am helping you.” “Strangely enough, I’m not getting that vibe.”

Mary Margaret clicked her tongue, bumping her shoulder against Ruby’s and her face was nearly as red as the sweater she had on. “I can’t blame the sun again,” she mumbled. “This is just her.” “Phone, Jones,” Ruby commanded and Killian dropped the thing in her hand without another word, having to shift Roland just a bit in the process. Several of his internal organs were going to suffer permanent damage from this conversation. “You learn anything about the game yet?” she continued conversationally, typing something into his phone and handing it back to him with a glint in her eye.

Killian glanced down, breath hitching in his throat when he saw the brand-new name in his contacts. Swan. No, Emma. No, Emma Swan. Just a last name and, maybe, a nickname and Ruby probably hadn’t been asking about Overwatch.

“That’s a distinct work in progress,” Killian admitted and Ruby hummed. “I can almost name all the characters now though.” “We’re working on powers,” Henry added. “And why Roadhog is the worst character to play.” “What?” Ruby gasped. “Please, kid. That chain hook is a huge help when you’re fighting in close quarters. And he doesn’t take much to get back to full health. He’s an underrated character.” Henry shrugged. “I like Doomfist.” “You can play Doomfist?” “Yeah,” he nodded. “The canon is sweet.” They were never going to get ice cream. And Roland was getting impatient. “Alright, kid,” Killian interrupted, pulling on the back of Henry’s shirt when he ducked out from underneath his arm to try and recreate a part of the game. “C’mon. I promised Robin you guys would be home eventually. And if we’re going to sneak ice cream, we’ve got to go now.” “Ice cream,” Roland repeated shrilly, lunging towards Henry and nearly face planting on the ground. All three adults in a five-foot radius moved at the same time. “Henry, we have to get ice cream!”

“Yeah, yeah, ok” Henry agreed, albeit a little despondently. “But, uh, could I maybe come watch you guys play next week?” he asked, glancing hopefully at Ruby and Killian.

“Of course,” Ruby promised quickly. And maybe just a bit enthusiastically. “I mean, well, as long as it’s cool with your parents. And Killian. If he’s planning on actually showing.” “I am,” Killian said.

Ruby smiled. “Then absolutely. We’ll get you a team t-shirt.” Henry looked like he was actually going to start jumping for joy. “And maybe one for Killian too if he learns how to play the game.” He needed to find other adult human beings who were able to have a conversation without trying to actually hit him over the head with meaning.

They, eventually, did get ice cream and were no less than forty-five minutes late to dinner. None of them ate dinner. They’d had ice cream instead.

And Regina was going to kill him.

“Seriously?” she hissed for what was, at least, the forty-second time since Killian had walked into the full-floor apartment on Spring Street hours before. Roland was asleep between them, head on Regina’s lap and feet draped over Killian’s legs, while Henry tried to explain what it was something called a Junkrat did and why he was so important to winning the game.

The actual one. Not the metaphorical one.

“You fix the coding on the site?” Killian countered and Regina raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Make any other assistants cry?” “Ass,” she grumbled.

“You’ve got to come up with better insults, your majesty. These are just getting redundant.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing her fingers over Roland’s hair. “I only have one assistant. By the way.” “I didn’t know you had any. People like to keep me out of the loop.” “Including your sources?” “You checking up on me?” Killian asked, hoping against some kind of improbable hope that sarcasm and even more deflection would get him the hell out of the conversation. Not with Regina. And not in her domain. Or something. The whole goddamn city was her domain at this point. Maybe that’s why he was still staying in a hotel uptown.

Regina leveled him with an even stare, eyes boring into his brain and possibly his soul and Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if she was just reading his mind when his phone started to ring – loudly. Roland grumbled, one foot pressed roughly into Killian’s thigh as he tried to grab his phone off the coffee table before it could actually shatter or Regina could keep hissing god, turn your volume down.

He nearly dropped it.

Swan.

“Huh,” Regina said, peering at the screen over shoulder. “Must be nice to have sources that return your calls.” “You say that wistfully, your majesty,” Killian muttered. He couldn’t seem to move.

“Answer your phone, Killian. Preferably in another room.”

He tried to extricate himself from what felt like the limbs of several seven-year-olds, careful not to knock Roland off the couch as he moved towards the hallway and swiped his thumb across his phone screen. “Hello?” he asked softly, dimly aware of Regina’s not-so-quiet laughter.

“Uh, hi, hey,” Emma mumbled and he was smiling. He could feel the muscles in his cheeks move, lips quirking up quickly and automatically and, well, that was weird. He stopped three-quarters of the way down the hallway, sliding down the wall and stretching his legs out. He hadn’t actually said anything back. “Killian?” she asked.

He hit his head on the wall.

“Yeah, yeah, here,” he said quickly, nearly stumbling over the words in an effort to get them out. “I, uh, is everything ok, Swan?” “Yeah.” Silence. Dead silence. Dead, uncomfortable silence.

“Well, no,” Emma corrected softly and those knots in his stomach had made a rather glorious return. “I...I wanted to apologize.” “For what, love?” The word was out of his mouth before he could even consider it and he heard the change in her breath, the soft catch like she couldn't quite get enough of it. Killian knew the feeling. “Sorry, no nicknames.” “You’ve broken that rule twice already, you know.” “Yeah,” he laughed softly. “I realize that. It’s, uh...habit, I suppose.” “You frequently call all the girls nicknames? Set ‘em at ease so they start spilling their on-the-record guts?” He shook his head, only realizing he was still sitting in a hallway when Emma laughed in his ear. “See, your silence kind of answers the question for me.” “I can neither confirm nor deny that it is sometimes easier to get information out of sources when one is trying to be decidedly charming.” If he got Emma to laugh like that – simple and easy and like some tiny, warm light that seemed to seep into the very center of him in the hallway of an apartment he didn’t live in – Killian would be certain coming back to New York was the right choice.

It kind of felt like the right choice.

“So what you’re telling me is you think you’re charming?” Emma asked.

“Decidedly.” “Is that what you were trying to do before? Last week I mean. Charm me to get me to talk?” “No,” Killian said, an immediate and honest response that sounded like he was shouting the word into the phone.

She stopped laughing and Killian resisted the urge to sigh at that. “Didn’t even bring a pen,” she whispered. Fuck.

“Shit journalist.” “That’s not true,” Emma argued, voice just a bit stronger than it had been all conversation. “I mean...well, that’s not what the internet said.” Killian narrowed his eyes – Mary Margaret’s words from that afternoon ringing in his ears. She totally Google’d your name on my couch a week ago. “Did you look me up, love?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t actually crack like some prepubescent kid with a crush.

That kind of went with the theme of the day.

“Did you really win a Louisiana Press Association Award for exposing a drug ring in New Orleans?” Huh. She must have Google’d for a very long time. And that felt like some kind of distant memory – he’d been in the hospital when they held the fucking awards ceremony. He never even saw that plaque.

“Killian?” Emma pressed. He hit his head again.

“Yeah.” “Was that an answer to the original question or just acknowledging me shouting your name?” He laughed – sharp and shaky, but a laugh all the same and he wished he’d called her first. Ethics. There were ethics involved and this had gotten very murky, very quickly. “Both,” Killian smiled. “How far back did you go on those search results, Swan?”

“Mary Margaret shouldn’t gossip like that. It’s very unlike her.” “To be fair, she was distracted. A charming guy like myself, shows up at her school and promises two adorable kids ice cream. It’s no wonder she didn’t just start spilling your entire life story to me by default.” Emma made a strangled noise, a gasp and maybe sheer terror and Killian was back on his feet quickly, heart hammering against his chest as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong. “Swan? Are you ok?” “Fine,” she bit out, exhaling loudly. “Fine, I’m fine. Jeez. I’m...this conversation is garbage isn’t it?” “Confusing,” Killian conceded. “I wouldn't call it garbage, though.”

“Generous. You want to talk about the Louisiana Press Association now?”

“What about it?” “Exposing a drug ring seems a far cry from video game stories,” Emma said. “And mass murderers in Boston.” He chuckled under his breath, sinking back onto the floor and tugging on his hair. “They’re all stories in the end, Swan.” “Good ones?” “Some more than others.” “Follow-up?” “Yeah, sure,” Killian said and he was absolutely the one being charmed. God, he should have asked Mary Margaret more questions. He was too terrified of Ruby.

“Why go to the mass murders? I mean, was that, like, a personal decision or a front office thing? Is that even a journalism term? Front office? Editorial! That’s what it’d be called right, editorial? And why stick in Boston? That’s the longest you were in one spot for a really long time. Even longer than New York and….” She cut herself off, gasping slightly when she realized her follow-up was more of a short speech. Killian was grinning like a fool at the opposite wall. “Shit,” Emma mumbled. “That was a lot. You should have told me to shut up.” “I didn’t want you to shut up.”

“Oh.” “Start from the beginning, huh?” Emma hummed and he could almost picture her sitting across from him – the way her tongue had darted across her lips when they sat in the booth, how she twisted her hair around her fingers and rolled her shoulders when she was nervous.

“Alright,” he began. “So I grew up in New York, went to school here, like I told you, started writing here until...circumstances changed. And so I left. Went to Colorado for a couple of months because it was the furthest thing from New York I could imagine. Realized I couldn’t quite stand mountain air or, you know, mountains. Then did stringer work at what felt like seven-hundred newspapers on the west coast, liked that a little bit more, appreciated the Bay Area for the water and the seafood. Then got a job offer in New Orleans and stayed there for…”

He squeezed his eyes closed, memories washing over him, scents and sounds nearly reaching out and smacking him in the face. He glanced down, staring at his left hand and half expecting to find someone else there.

Of course not.

That was a long time ago.

“So, I stayed in New Orleans for a little over a year,” Killian said. “Started covering news, breaking or otherwise and that story you’re talking about, the one that won the awards, it, uh, took me my whole stint in the city.” “Is that why you left?” Emma asked breathlessly.

“Kind of.” “And you just figured you start with the drugs and turn to homicides because….” Killian shrugged, treading on thin ice in late August. “It made sense,” he admitted, a quiet explanation he’d never actually said out loud. “No one else wanted it. So I took it because I could. They were stories.” “Control,” Emma whispered and Killian made a noise in the back of his throat. “You wanted to have some control.” Well, fuck.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s...exactly it, actually.” “Yeah, I get that.” They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t quite as deadly or uncomfortable as it had been before. It felt a bit like understanding. And maybe he was reading way too much into a second conversation.

“Why did you want to apologize, Swan?” Killian asked, wincing when his voice cut through the silence.

She laughed. “Oh, for M’s and Ruby. This afternoon. On several different fronts. Including M’s being difficult about you getting ice cream to the aforementioned adorable kids. Although, out of context that does sound kind of weird.” “She was doing her job.” “Yeah, she’s fairly certain her job is to mother me.” “That’s not a bad thing, Swan.” “No,” she sighed. “It’s not. But she shouldn’t have to. Not anymore at least. And, maybe, I’m apologizing for something else too.” Killian sat up straighter, pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder and rubbing his thumb against the top of his brace. “What’s that, love?” “For not telling you when and where the cut was and that I, well, I mean, the team, we’d like you to be there. For the story.”

For the story.

Right. Of course. No other reason except the story. Certainly not because he’d just explained Killian Jones, crime reporter with an extensive knowledge of blood adjectives for the first time since his inception seven years before.

That would be insane.

“That’s alright, Swan,” Killian said, hoping to infuse some sort of belief into the words and the nickname. “That’s not your job. Any journalist worth his salt would have been able to figure it out. Or gotten in contact with you.” “Is this your sly way of saying you didn’t want to contact me?” He nearly screamed the word no into the phone. He probably would have woken up Roland. And he could hear Emma’s smile in her laugh on the other end of the phone, a couch creaking slightly when she moved. “So that’s a no, then?”

“That’s a no.” “Friday. Playstation Theatre. Like all day. We’ll be the ones wearing questionably tacky matching t-shirts, so you should probably put that in your lede.” “Noted.” “Ok,” she said and it sounded like she was still smiling. He really hoped she was still smiling. “So I’ll see you then?” “I’ll text you when I leave.” Killian grimaced, eyes snapping closed again and shit – step too far. At least he hadn’t called it a date. Thought it, sure. Goddamn fucking ethics.

“That sounds like a plan,” Emma muttered and maybe this wasn’t a disaster. “Do you...do you like coffee? I could bring you coffee.” “I like coffee,” Killian grinned.

“I’ll be the one with coffee then.” “Good. Good night, Swan.” “Night, Killian.” He sat on the hallway floor for at least another five minutes after the phone went dead, grumbling out a quiet shut up when he saw Regina’s knowing look as soon as he walked back into the living room.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #video game fic #in which everyone has thoughts and opinions on emma and killian #as a collective unit

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fourteenacross · 6 years

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Hey! Do you have any Stranger Things readalikes and/or middle grade & YA horror recs?

I can, in fact, provide that thing!

I could give MG and YA horror recs all day, so I stayed sort of close to the Stranger Things readalikes part of it.

(All links are to Amazon via the WBS referral code, but buy local if you can, etc.)

Middle GradeThe Riverman by Aaron Starmer - This is a trilogy that takes place in the early 90s. Alistair is approached by a neighbor he hasn’t spoken to since they were younger, who asks him to write her biography. She explains that she is older than he thinks, as she passes time in another reality and has since learned that something from that reality is stealing the souls of children in their world. Creepy coming of age in a similar time period with a similar feel.

Doll Bones by Holly Black - Three friends have been playing the same epic game with their dolls and toys for years. When Zach’s dad tells him he’s too old for dolls and has to start playing boy games, the bone china doll who they cast as the queen of their world is unhappy. Same “kids on a epic quest against evil” vibes.

The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste - Corinne has never believed in the tales of the jumbies, figuring they were something adults made up to scare kids at night. But after a close encounter in the forbidden part of the forest, a mysterious woman shows up and starts to affect their island. She has to convince her friends to help take down the evil and save their home. Creepy and with that classic “the kids see what the parents don’t” trope.

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs - Jacob grows up hearing fantastic stories of people with strange powers from his grandfather. When his grandfather dies suddenly, he finds himself on a journey to the remote Welsh village where he grew up and stumbles upon a place without time, full of strange and wonderful things, and stalked by an evil only he can see. This one has gr8 pictures, so def do a print or ebook if you can, even though I’m usually a big audio proponent.

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart - After answering a strange and vague classified ad looking for gifted children, four kids find themselves in the house of the eccentric Mr. Benedict, who’s training them for a perilous undercover mission to bring down the Learning Institute for the Very Enlightened. Smart kids pitted against a sketchy government institution.

The Witch’s Boy by Kelly Barnhilll - After surviving a rafting accident that kills his more talented twin brother, Ned has been told his whole like that “the wrong boy lived.” Áine, daughter of the Bandit King, was warned by her mother that “the wrong boy” will save her life. When the two meet, they discover it’s up to them to stop a war brewing between two kingdoms and save Ned’s mother’s magic. Read this and then read all the rest of Kelly Barnhill’s books.

Young AdultFiendish by Brenna Yovanoff - Ten years ago, the people of New South Bend decided that the strange things happening in town were the fault of the families living in the Willows and burned their houses down. Clementine was kept alive by magic, walled in the cellar until a boy stumbles upon her and sets her free. Now, with the help of her cousin and her friends, Clementine is determined to figure out what really happened ten years ago and how it’s connected to the magical and terrifying place called The Hollow.

Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older - Sienna planned to spend her whole summer working on a mural in her neighborhood, but after being chased by a mysterious entity at a party, she discovers that she’s a part of something bigger. Her family are shadowshapers, people who can direct spirits into art to make it come alive. But someone wants to see the shadowshapers exterminated, and now Sienna and her friends have to uncover the mystery while fighting for their lives. READ. THIS. SERIES. I LOVE IT. HONESTLY. THE SECOND ONE CAME OUT THIS YEAR.

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak - Aidan’s life is ordinary and unremarkable until his former best friend, Jarrod, moves back to town. That’s when Aiden starts being haunted by visions of the past and visions of the present and things his mind has tried to hide from him. This is a weird, great (queer!) story.

The Walking Dark by Robin Wasserman - On a perfectly mundane day in a small down in Kansas, twelve people are abruptly murdered by friends and family members who then go on to kill themselves. Not long after, a strange tornado cuts the town off from the rest of the world, and as the adults descend into chaos, it’s up to a group of teens–including the sole survivor of the murder/suicides–to figure out exactly what is happening to their town.

Bone Gap by Laura Ruby - Roza was a beautiful outsider who was, against all odds, accepted by a small farming community when she stumbled into town, alone and frightened. The town, then, is devastated when she disappears, none more so than Sean, one of two brothers who had been boarding her. Younger brother Finn claims to have witnessed her abduction, but his lack of helpful evidence has ostracized him even more from the rest of the town, leaving him on his own to put together the clues of what’s happened and why and how to get Roza back. This book is weird and complex and sad and beautiful and magical.

The Forgetting by Sharon Cameron - Every twelve years, the city of Canaan descends into chaos, because every twelve years everyone’s memories are wiped completely clean. You remember nothing–your parents, your children, your spouse–unless it is written down. Except for Nadia. Nadia remembers. So it’s up to her to use her memories to solve the mysteries of the city as the next Forgetting approaches, before everything resets again and it’s too late.

AdultLet the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist - Oskar has spent his life being bullied and mocked by his peers, but a new girl has moved in next door, a girl who seems ignorant of most things in the world, but is brilliant. Around the same time, a string of horrific murders start to rock their small town, and Oskar slowly starts to put the pieces together. This is a terrible description of a great book that has SO MUCH happening in it that it’s hard to describe well. I also recommend the original Swedish movie, which is awesome.

It by Stephen King - Yeah, okay, you probably guessed this one, but there are reasons everyone is making the comparison. Just read the first half, and skip the sex stuff.

The Boy Who Drew Monsters by Keith Donohue - After Jack nearly drowns, he begins to refuse to leave the house, staying inside and drawing terrible monsters. It’s three years later and Jack is ten and strange things are starting to happen, things that are connected to his drawings and what happened to him.

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury - A strange carnival has come to town and it’s pulling in all of the townsfolk, regardless of age, with the ability to grant their true desires. But it’s not that simple, and there’s something dark at work that takes more than it gives. Two thirteen year old boys, Jim and Will, need to overcome their own fears and desires to defeat the evil within the carnival and save the town and themselves.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero - I have to admit, I haven’t read this one yet, though I’ve been on the hold list for an age so hopefully I will soon. But it sounds like it fits–it’s billed as what happens to a group of teens like the Scooby gang twenty years later, when they’re all adults and have mostly left their mystery solving behind. Or mostly left it behind–something about that last mystery is still haunting them and brings them back to their hometown to try and put it to rest once and for all.

ComicsLumberjanes - A great comic about the weird and wacky happenings at a scouting summer camp and the weird and wacky group of girls who run into the trouble head-on.Paper Girls - It’s 1988 and four twelve year old girls are about to stumble on to a mystery that will rock their world.Spill Zone - Three years ago, Poughkeepsie was destroyed by an event that has changed reality within its borders. Addison lost her parents in the event, and now supports her sister by taking illegal late night rides into the closed off area to take photos for collectors. One collector offers her enough money to quit for good, but to fulfill his request, she’ll need to take a risk that may keep her from ever leaving.

#replies #stranger things #books #recs #nobodytoldthehorse

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 7 years

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OUaT S6 Wrap-Up 3/3: Characters & Conclusion

Part 1: Structure | Part 2: Theme

In my 6x01 review, I posited the following arcs for this season:

Rumple’s arc has to do with whether he can avoid repeating his own early story – especially challenging when it seems that he has lost this child before he can even be born – and regain what he has lost, before it’s too late.

Regina wants to start a new story, but she’s already taken a step down the path she walked once before, and her other half is out there plotting evil.

Emma has been told that her story will end soon, just as it finally seemed that happiness was within her reach. Can she avoid this? Should she avoid it?

And indeed, those were each brought to a conclusion by the end of the season.

Rumple did avoid repeating his own story.

Regina has started two new stories, one of each of her selves.

Emma met her fate and has her happy ending.

There are a lot of devils in those details, though.

First off, I want to say that guest villains got treated terribly this season. As I noted earlier, we never found out much of anything about Hyde -- nothing about how he came to be so powerful, why he wanted Storybrooke, or what even his deal was other than revenge on Rumple. We never got a coherent explanation for the nature of the Evil Queen as an entity. Gideon made more sense in retrospect, but for his first few episodes he was apparently without any motive, which significantly weakened their impact. We were on the brink of the season finale before we knew what moved the Black Fairy, and even after her centric her whole plan continued to make no sense. She had to kill Emma because it’s prophesied? She wanted the town because why exactly? The Dark Curse was suppose to do what? What the hell kind of lazy bullshit?

The long-term characters’ side is not much better.

Emma’s trip around the Hero’s Journey came to a conclusion in S5. We spent this season in an extended denouement for her, the attainment of her happy ending. Those steps were doled out in agonizingly scanty increments -- moving in together, getting engaged, breaking the engagement, doing it again, the tacit admission on screen (at last) that adults in a committed relationship often have sex, and the wedding itself. The only other thing they had on tap for Emma to do all season was to endure visions of her own death -- a matter she can only passively endure -- and fight a redundant duel. It’s telling that the supposed turning point of the finale, when she chose to return to Storybrooke, happened off-screen.

Even the wedding -- a visual at which her story has been aiming for four seasons -- was a stop and go affair that hardly received the build-up I would have expected. The two engagements, multiple episodes of separation, followed by the “do it now/no wait don’t/never mind do it now!” back and forth made it difficult for this audience member to give a damn about the ceremony. Much as I still love the characters, their circumstances for the second half of this season have felt contrived in the most laborious fashion. Pancakes don’t make up for that, guys.

The Savior mythology remains so murky that’s hard to imagine why they bothered with it at all, except as a sorry attempt to justify the idea of the Final Battle. What they added by bringing in multiple additional Saviors doesn’t work very well on that level.

With both Jafar/Aladdin and Rumple/Fiona you had a clearly-defined long-term nemesis relationship with logical character roots. Aladdin and Jafar were fighting over their mutual home territory, and there is a natural potential for conflict in any parent-child relationship. In the wish world, we had Emma and Regina, which is certainly a long and complicated relationship supporting the idea of a conflict.

None of these prop up the idea that any old villain can come along and say, “You’re a Savior and I’m a Really Evil Person, so I now we have to fight to the death.” (I know I keep complaining about this, but I am still floored that they tried to sell it.) And then, having laboriously tried to establish that, they threw it all out the window anyway with Emma as the sole savior of the multiverse in the finale.

That mess aside, giving Emma a light season after the S5 wringer she went through might have made sense, except that no one else seems to have anything pressing to do, either.

This could have been an interesting season for Regina. She started out with major focus on her, got a lot of attention during the wish episodes, and spent several additional episodes working out the aftermath of her doomed romance with Robin. Unfortunately, whether it was in the idea or the execution, I have to say that her plot had a vital flaw; as either a conflict or a character study, Split Queen never took off and flew.

Looking back, I feel that they passed over a major opportunity for introspective interaction in favor of having the two Regina versions insult and throw fireballs at one another. This should by rights have been a subtle contest between perfect equals, and it was not. Even among the character’s fans, the resolution of her inner conflict did not appear to be a rousing success. (For those of us who didn’t like the character to begin with, it was a travesty.) Since then, she doesn’t seem to have any significant role to play. Her relationship with Zelena appears to have no solid foundation, but is either on or off depending on what the writers want Zelena to be doing in reaction to Regina. Having her give hope speeches cements the change, but it feels weird? Don’t get me started on the fact that somehow both halves of her have a happy ending now.

Rumple barely had anything to do all season, which is outright bizarre, given his role as the prime mover in so much of the plot in previous seasons. His role in creating the situation that led to Gideon’s abduction was never addressed head-on, which weakened the thematic power of the season’s second half for him. Ditto Belle coming back again, as if all of her doubts early in the season were quite forgotten.

His conflict with the Black Fairy -- which you might assume would be a Big Fucking Deal that could have drawn him into long-term cooperation with other characters -- wasn’t even a thing until the very end of the season. That conflict was ended in a way I can only call perfunctory. What finally changed in him? How did it change, given that he’s the Dark One? The whole “Darkest of all the Dark Ones” bit was never even mentioned. Why is it okay for him to kill Fiona but it wasn’t okay for Snow to kill Cora?

I guess we’ll never know, and that is the core my problem. There was a curious avoidance of introspection throughout the season. The show has always depended on conflict and magical flash, of course, but it also gave its characters chances to reflect on themselves and their roles at regular intervals. After all of these years, one might expect characters to be assured in their identities, that this season would tie things off securely.

I feel like Charming was the only character who came out of this season well, having resolved a major lingering issue from his past. Snow had no individual story. Killian was retreading ground the writers churned up quite thoroughly last season. Emma was largely facilitating contrived drama via dubious characterization and also repeating herself a lot. The less I say about Regina the better. Rumple got to play two notes all season -- controlling husband and alarmed dad -- neither of which is exactly new ground.

Conclusion

I end this wrap-up with the strong impression that whatever the root cause, the writers had no idea what to do with this season. I suspect for one that they didn’t expect a renewal at all, that they threw this together in a panic. They put together a skeleton half-composed of the Savior thing and half of Regina’s arc. Each of these plots had a parallel at the start of the season, and both of them were dropped by the halfway point, only to return in a painfully weak form in the finale. In the middle was mush.

Everything about the Savior mythology this season feels tacked-on, last-minute, and desperately inorganic to their previous story. There also wasn’t very much of it. They introduced this thread in the Aladdin scene from the season premiere, came back to it a few episodes later, but then… forgot? or otherwise neglected to tie it back to that theme at all when they wrapped up Jasmine and Aladdin’s adventure late in the season; there was literally nothing Savior-related in that story. Meanwhile, Emma’s side of the parallel turned right and dove into a motiveless, stakeless swamp with Gideon and the Black Fairy, which relied on the characters repeating the phrase Final Battle as if hearing it enough times would make anybody believe that it was important. Having the battle turn out to be internal, fine, but what was that stupid fight scene for, then?

I also have to state my firm belief that Regina was supposed to be in the Black Fairy’s spot. I have no idea what happened there, but seriously. There was absolutely nothing in her supplied back-story that made Fiona’s behavior or dialog in that episode comprehensible.

Whether or not they initially planned it this way or if fatigue set in partway through a planned season-long arc, Regina’s story came to an end ⅔ through the season. Her early parallel was with Jekyll and Hyde, but again all of that was disposed of along the way. There was no callback to its origin in the resolution of that arc (in fact, I don’t think anyone at all has even mentioned Hyde since he died, which I feel supports my theory that the sole reason for including him/them was create the Split Queen situation). The inner battle that originally created the two Reginas -- her powerful desires to hurt other people -- was elided in a resolution that recast the entire story to be a sympathetic one about her relationship to herself. Jekyll and Hyde died; the staggering human cost of Regina’s choices was erased. Even her Evil Queen half got to come back after her finale sacrifice, happier than ever.

Finally, there was no link whatsoever between these two anchor plots. Regina’s story concerned herself and Snowing and slightly Zelena, but Emma was barely present in it. Emma’s story concerned Regina for exactly as long as we thought that Regina might be the Hooded Figure; after that was cleared up, she became irrelevant in it. To this weak framework the writers attached bits and pieces of additional stories that again had no thematic resonance with either of the main plots, resulting in the hodgepodge of elements diagrammed earlier.

The writers didn’t think they were going to have the long hiatus they ended up having, so it’s not surprising that they failed to plan for the break, but that lack of information -- along with the drought of news regarding any season 7 right up until the actual finale -- adds to my sense that there has been some really terrible communication going on behind the scenes. And if it feels like we just watched an entire season of filler plot, that’s because they stretched what might have been a half dozen episodes’ worth of good material out to 20.

It’s not what I wanted to be writing at this point, to say the least.

#b thinks about once upon a time #ouat #anti regina #anti rumple #ouat negativity

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ljones41 · 7 years

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"The Meaning Behind the First Evil"

Season Seven of "BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER" has been a favorite of mine for years. But it has been rather unpopular with many fans of the series and television critics. And I suspect that this unpopularity may have centered around the character and main villain of Season Seven – the First Evil:

"THE MEANING BEHIND THE FIRST EVIL" If there is one nemesis that has baffled fans of "BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER" during its seven seasons run, it would have to be the First Evil. This entity first made its appearance in the Season Three episode, (3.10) "Amends" and became Buffy Summer’s main nemesis in Season Seven, the last season of the series. In a nutshell, the First Evil was an incorporeal entity that manifested from all of the evil in existence. It could assume the form of any person who has died, including vampires and dead persons who have been resurrected. Because of this, it had appeared in various forms over the course of the series as a method of manipulating others. For this reason, the First had appeared as Buffy Summers to the Slayer and her allies. But it also assumed the forms of Jenny Calendar, Warren Mears, Spike, and Jonathan Levinson on multiple occasions, and a variety of other forms less frequently. It was also able to merge with a corporeal individual, as it had done with a serial killer named Caleb and provide the latter with immense strength. The First Evil’s only real weakness was that it was non-corporeal and could not inflict any real physical damage. However, it was an expert at psychological manipulation, and could act through its servants such as the Bringers, Turok-Han, Caleb or whomever it could manage to control. As I had stated earlier, the First Evil made its debut on "BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER" in the Season Three episode, (3.10) "Amends". It tried to drive Angel into killing Buffy by appearing to him as Jenny Calendar and other people he had murdered as a soulless vampire. The First Evil told Angel that it was responsible for his return from "Hell" and that he could end his sufferings by turning evil again. Whether or not this was true is unknown. In any event, it did not mind when Angel chose to kill himself, via a sunrise instead. Fortunately, Buffy's confrontation with the First Evil allowed her to stop Angel from committing suicide. Using Buffy’s second resurrection in the Season Six premiere - (6.01) "Bargaining, Part I" as an excuse, the First Evil returned in full force in Season Seven in an attempt to eliminate the Slayer line permanently. Using servants such as the defrocked serial killer Caleb and the Harbingers of Death (or Bringers), the First Evil not only brought about the deaths of many Potential Slayers and Watchers, it also destroyed the Watcher’s Council (no loss there) and nearly came close to killing Buffy, Faith, the Scoobies and Spike. It used both Andrew Wells and Spike to raise the Turok-Han (a race of ancient powerful vampires stronger and fiercer than the regular vampires). It manipulated Spike by using an old English folk song - "Early One Morning" - into killing again, hoping his actions would attract Buffy’ attentions. According to sources from the "All Things Philosophical on ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘Angel the Series’" and "Buffyverse Wiki" sites, the First Evil wanted to seize the opportunity to upset the balance between good and evil whenever the Slayer line was disrupted. It tried to manipulate Angel into committing suicide in "Amends" about a year-and-a-half after Buffy’s brief death and resuscitation in (1.12) "Prophecy Girl". And about a year following Buffy’s resurrection in "Bargaining", it made its move to manipulate Spike and destroy the Slayer line and upset the moral balance permanently. Many fans did not like the First Evil as Buffy’s main antagonist in Season Seven. From what I could gather from many message boards, forums and blogs; they seemed confused about the First Evil’s intentions or what it represented. Nor did they seemed impressed that it was the one Big Bad that Buffy could not destroy in a physical manner. Some fans even accused "BUFFY" creator Joss Whedon of writing himself into a corner with the creation of the First Evil. Personally, I disagree. I do not feel that Whedon had written himself into a corner by bringing the First Evil back in Season Seven. It is easier to identify a nemesis that is solid enough for someone – namely Buffy - to physically kill or fight. Nemesis like the Master, Angelus, Mayor Wilkins, Adam, Glory, Warren Mears or even Willow Rosenberg. But the First Evil was a different matter. It symbolized a continuation of the theme from Season Six - namely "You are your own worst enemy".In other words, I believe that the First Evil symbolized the spirit of Evil that existed in everyone - from Buffy to some minor demon minion or some housewife. I must be one of the few fans who actually enjoyed Season Seven. But even I had one or two issues about that particular season that did not sit right with me. One of those issues was the appearance of a supernatural being called Beljoxa's Eye in (7.11) "Showtime". Rupert Giles and Anya Jenkins visited the being to learn everything they could about the First Evil. Instead of fulfilling their wishes, the Beljoxa’s Eye told them that that the First Evil cannot be destroyed and that it made it presence known due to a disruption in the Slayer's line, which was in fact, caused by the Slayer. Both Giles and Anya concluded that Buffy’s second resurrection brought about the return of the First Evil. This did not make sense to me. One, I found it hard to believe that the First Evil existed because of Buffy’s resurrection. It had already existed before the events of "Bargaining". In fact, I believe that it had already existed before "Amends". Why? As I had stated earlier, I believe the First Evil was . . . or is the spirit of evil itself. It was all of the negative thoughts, emotions and impulses that reside within all living beings. And the late Joyce Summers hinted this during Buffy’s dream in (7.12) "Bring On the Night": BUFFY: Something evil is coming. JOYCE: Buffy, evil isn't coming, it's already here. Evil is always here. Don't you know? It's everywhere. BUFFY: And I have to stop it. JOYCE: How are you gonna do that? BUFFY: I-I don't know yet, but— JOYCE: Buffy, no matter what your friends expect of you, evil is a part of us. All of us. It's natural. And no one can stop that. No one can stop nature, not even . . . Joyce would eventually be proven right in (7.22) "Chosen", the series finale. When Buffy, Spike, Faith, the Scoobies, Robin Wood, Dawn and the Potentials battled the First Evil’s army of Turok-Han vampires inside the Hellmouth; all they did – especially Spike – was ruin the First Evil's plans to upset the balance of good and evil in the mortal world. In my personal opinion, that imbalance already existed before Buffy’s first death in "Prophecy Girl". It never made any sense to me that a balance between good and evil had been maintained by the presence of one Slayer against a slew of vampires, demons and other forms supernatural evil for centuries. I suspect that the First Evil saw the presence of more than one Slayer and a vampire with a soul as a threat to that imbalance. Like many others, the First Evil believed that only one Slayer should exist. And as I had earlier stated, I found this belief rather ridiculous and I am glad that Buffy proved that it did not have to be so at the end of the series. Would the Watcher’s Council or the African shamans who had first created the Slayer line approve of the idea of more than one Slayer in existence? I rather doubt it. I suspect that they may have feared the idea of dealing with more than one Slayer . . . or even more than two. I suspect that controlling the Slayer or wielding her as a weapon mattered more to the shamans and the Watcher’s Council than the idea of more than one warrior against the forces of Evil. And I would not be surprised if the First Evil – or their own inner darkness – prevented them from considering this possibility. And I believe that is what the First Evil represented in Buffy’s story – the inner evil or negativity that she, her sisters and friends all harbored within themselves . . . and which they had to learn to acknowledge. Buffy’s conversation with the vampire sired by Spike – Holden Webster – forced her to face and acknowledge her own negative traits. By (7.15) "Get It Done", she also realized that her two most powerful allies – Willow and Spike – needed to face their own personal demons as well: BUFFY: The First isn't impressed. It already knows us. It knows what we can do, and it's laughing. You want to surprise the enemy? Surprise yourselves. Force yourself to do what can't be done, or else we are not an army - we're just a bunch of girls waiting to be picked off and buried. (Spike stands and walks toward the door) Where are you going? SPIKE: Out. Since I'm neither a girl, nor waiting. All this speechifying doesn't really apply to me, does it? (walks away) BUFFY: (calls after him) Fine. Take a cell phone. That way, if I need someone to get weepy or whaled on, I can call you. SPIKE: (turns to Buffy) If you've got something to say - BUFFY: Just said it. You keep holding back, you might as well walk out that door. SPIKE: Holding back? You're blind. I've been here, right in it - fighting, scrapping... BUFFY: Since you got your soul back? SPIKE: Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't quite been relishing the kill the way I used to. BUFFY: You were a better fighter then. SPIKE: I did this for you. The soul, the changes - it's what you wanted. BUFFY: What I want is the Spike that's dangerous. The Spike that tried to kill me when we met. SPIKE (angrily): Oh, you don't know how close you are to bringing him out. BUFFY: I'm nowhere near him. The above conversation was one of the most interesting I have ever come across during the series’ seven seasons run. A vampire Slayer – someone considered the epitome of "goodness and light" – encouraging a former killer to face that darkness that made him such an effective killer. She even gave a similar speech to Willow, who as "Darth Willow" nearly came close to destroying the world in the Season Six finale, (6.22) "Grave". Many fans had thought Buffy may have lost her mind. I understood what Buffy was trying to say. During Season Seven, Spike and Willow had spent most of it wallowing in guilt over certain acts they had committed in Season Six. I could probably say the same about Buffy. Like Spike and Willow, she learned to face her past treatment of the blond vampire in the episode, (7.08) "Conversations with Dead People". But duties and the re-emergence of the First Evil made her realize that she had no time to wallow in her guilt. Her rants against Spike and Willow in "Get It Done" expressed her own impatience with their guilt and tendencies to hold themselves back in fear of releasing the inner evil that made them fearsome. She forced both the vampire and the red-haired witch to realize that they can only be fully effective by learning to face their personal demons . . . and controlling it. By facing the many aspects of their nature, Spike and Willow could learn to develop as individuals. The First Evil’s activities forced Buffy to develop in another path. She had to start learning how to evolve beyond her inferiority/superiority complex and learn to connect with others . . . when the situation demanded. Thanks to her former Watcher, Rupert Giles, she tried to use this aloofness to become an authority figure to the many Potential Slayers that had arrived on her doorstep. She also had to learn not to allow her insecurities and fear (traits that originated from the negativity within) of being alone to give others like her former Watcher Rupert Giles and even her friends a chance to dictate her actions and behavior. Like Spike and Willow, she had to learn to become her own person. She had to stop being afraid to connect with others and at the same time, allowing them to dictate her behavior. In the end, I found Season Seven to be very complex and mature on a level that may have eluded certain viewers. Before the season first began, Whedon and Mutant Enemy had announced that the series would take viewers back to how it used to be during the earlier seasons. And perhaps that was what they had been looking forward to . . . simply recapturing the past. Season Seven did just that . . . but with a twist. The season reminded viewers that no one can recapture the past. Not really. In a way, Spike and Willow tried to recapture their former selves – the mild-mannered Victorian gentleman and the shy computer geek. And Buffy, at Giles’ orders, tried to enforce her authority upon the Potential Slayers as the Watchers’ Council had done to her in the past. Even the fans got into the act. They wanted Whedon to take this season back to what "BUFFY" used to be, failing to realize that would never happen. Buffy and the Scoobies could never go back to being what they used to be. Too much had changed for them over the years. They had changed. And so had the series. Not only did Buffy and the Scoobies' conflict with the First Evil - namely their own inner demons - made them realize they could not recapture their past. They may have learned something else. Battling the First Evil was like battling a part of themselves. And in battling themselves, they ended up battling their worst enemy. By allowing the characters to do so, Whedon continued the theme that had been prevalent throughout the series’ run . . . namely growing up.

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