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prettypeppermint · 2 months

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amazing grace.

for t. shelby a prelude to 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

“My, what a dear sight: Thomas Shelby, Peaky Blinder and founder of Shelby Brothers Limited, fucking a whore on the same desk he signs business deals on.”

Your languid body, draped with the tender silks of your night slip, leaned against the door frame. The strong oak plowed against your supple shoulder and tugged at the pink lace pooling in your clavicle. A slim cigarette drooped like a petal from your rosy fingertips which rested near your naked thigh.

You watched, unamused, as Thomas repeatedly rutted into the thing, his eyes staring directly into yours. Despite the dimness of it all--of the sex-stained chamber and the way the dying lamps made the room appear dipped in oil--his sharp, diamond eyes still cut through the haze.

You took a quaint draw of your cigarette and fixed your gaze on the girl, tilting your head at the way she convulsed and thawed into the mahogany. You pushed yourself off the frame and let yourself in, crossing the threshold into sin.

Your bare feet made slow steps across the dry panels and stopped in front of her. You used your hand free of the cigarette to pet the crown of her head, smoothing down her jostled, earthy locks.

You shushed her softly, quietly, though it came from a dwelling deep within your heart. Your fingers tightened at her roots and pulled her head up so you could see her disheveled face. "You're a pretty one," you stated, observing the way her nose sloped perfectly into her cupid's bow. Her shaky, glossy eyes could barely keep your gaze as they kept rolling to the back of her head. Obscene moans and small cries escaped her bobbing throat.

You took another puff from your smoke. "I know you think you've caught a big fish, but really--Thomas Shelby isn't any less a minnow than every other man in this Godless city when it comes to pretty lasses like you." Your voice was befitting of the night--quiet and something of the tide.

You traced her tear-stained cheek with your thumb. "Do you know why you're here, bent over his work desk in the first place, love? It's because the last pretty thing that wandered into Mr. Shelby's trousers put all our heads on the line--right after her own, pretty little blonde one."

Immediately after the last sour-coated words left your lips, the girl burst into a million ecstacies, and Thomas gave her one last soundless pound before leaving her empty and hollow on the nippy wood.

You let go of her head and it dropped to the desk--as if she craved its cold companionship.

Your eyes found Thomas's.

"So this is who you are now? A whore fucker is no more than a whore, himself, y'know."

"Who I fuck"--he zipped up his knickers and took a swig of Irish whiskey left out from the morning on his desk--"concerns no one. Least of all you."

You slowly snubbed your cigarette out on his expensive, lacquered desk. "Don't get cute," you said, pulling out a couple extra shillings than girls like Lizzie are used to seeing after a long day. You stretched at her unbuttoned collar and pressed them into her bra. "On you go, love. Don't come back.” You said the last part mainly to yourself, but it didn't go unnoticed in the weight of the room. You loathed her life for her.

A minute sigh, heavy with something dire and secretive, escaped Thomas's nose as the lax girl collected her stray garments from off the floor and flitted out of the room. He never looked at her, though she seemed to burn for it.

Thomas leaned the small of his back against the edges of his desk, staring off at something distant in that vacant way he always does.

"It seems as though everybody in the city respects Thomas Shelby except yourself,” you said.

You never called him Tommy, and you never would. Nicknames are for kin and lovers, and he was just pristine, clean-cut Thomas.

He didn't respond. He didn't move save a subtle tensing of the muscle in his jaw. You made your way next to him, propping yourself up on the desk. Your legs dangled in the air as the hem of your slip rode up your thighs. He passed his whiskey glass over to you without sparing you even a glance, and you took a sizable swig.

Since it was evident he wouldn't be doing much of the talking, you started up.

"Men are weak. They get dumb in the head when anything with a cunt passes by. A primal urge--makes you animals." You looked at the wooden wall and imagined you were seeing the same thing he was as he stared right through it. A moment of silence--a hidden breath--hitched and made the room swell--the wood crack.

"I loved Grace, too. In my own way," you continued softly, matter-of-factly. You handed the glass back to him. He could tell you've had a little too much already. "I saw something in her that I had been chasing my entire life. It made me admire her."

"And what's that," his voice croaked, raspy from the silence that grew familiar to his throat's walls--like a tumor.

"She had love." Slowly, as if unfolding like a picture, you began to see the invisible landscape Thomas saw in the grain of the walls. "It made her strong. Gave her something to fight for, and then later something to lose."

This, Thomas realized, was the most you've confided to him in years. You looked so vulnerable, so lush in your unguarded, slightly slouched form. He saw glimpses of your Irish youth in your tired yet glistening eyes.

You were never a predictable woman.

A silence spanned and stretched at the air in the room. The more it did, the hotter you got.

"I've never had that, Thomas. And you should be grateful you did for at least a little while, because even if you fail at your multiple hands and end up rotting in the canal, you would have died a man who knew love. So stop slouching and moping and fucking sorry whores and get back on your feet."

He didn't like the way curses sounded coming from your mouth--from that pretty little voice. Your usual mellow demeanor had faltered for the first time in front of him.

You didn't wait for him to hand you the glass this time, as you swiped it out of his grasp and downed the last ounce of amber fire. "You're Thomas fucking Shelby. But right now you're just pathetic."

At this, his hand clasped around your slender neck, almost simultaneously with his lips as they crashed into yours. He repositioned himself between your legs so his knee could pry and tease at them. His callused hand was strong and warm as it crept from your throat to that sweet nook between the back of your neck and the bend of your jaw. His fingers cupped your cheek and raked through your freshly washed hair. Your slip had collected in a wrinkle of crests at your hips and you subconsciously waited for your exposed thighs to be seared with his radiating palms. But he stopped himself. He pulled away. And yet again, there was that vacant distance.

"Don't tell me about not knowing love. I loved Grace the way you've always loved me." His voice was so low you had to furrow your brows to make out every word--every syllable--so that you could ensure you weren't going crazy. "I see it. Every day. I fuckin' feel it every time you look at the back of my neck. You love me. And you're filthy for it."

For an impossible measure of time, you saw him for something he wasn't.

His thumb swiped past your chilled earlobe, bringing your forehead to his. "She sang these songs. And I heard in all of them your stories."

You wanted to shoot him. And kiss him. And kill him. Hell, you just wanted him.

"But I could never have you. No, not when you put on such a tough act with a face like that and make a mess of yourself and everything else--messes I needed to clean up and protect you from." With this, he gave your face a little shake with his hand still embedded in your locks.

It was impossibly gentle and genuine and moronic. It was simply just impossible.

His whiskey-licked breath stung with every lap he took at your salted wounds. You both stayed like this until the ticking of the clock became jilted and painful.

You looked into his wayward eyes one final time, swallowing a heavy sigh before slowly slipping off the table, past his burning body and out the door.

It was as good a goodbye as any.

All humans have ever needed was love, so why is it that when it's finally within the palms of our hands--no matter how much we cherish it, kindle its erratic flame, breathe life into it--it always seems to betray us?

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tmntxthings · 1 year

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Σ一The Villainess, AKA: Cherrypie ‘A Cute-Meet’。・゜・

summary: way before the night of the ball, Y/n and Raph met under pretty average circumstances, if average includes testing out a prototype for a cloaking brooch & a certain special ring getting stolen

author’s note: this is first prequel to the ongoing collab with <3 @marwhoa <3 we have been contemplating more prequels to continue adding depth to the story and ofc the almighty ‘part two’

warnings: rise!raph x villain!reader, cloaking brooch au, secret identities, cute meet, fluff

〔you’re here〕 → next

—————————————————————————

Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. ‘Plain-Jane’ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

With a few calming rotations of the ring around her digit and a tucking of stray hairs behind her ear, the silent street was filled by soft tmps of the mysterious newcomer’s light footsteps. Perpendicular to the alley she has appeared through, a sneaky peek was given before she stepped out the next pin-drop quiet street with sidewalks that likely experienced so little foot traffic that they just might be clean enough to eat on.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/n couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “Welcome to Sugar n’Spice!”

Any sleepiness brave enough to stay in your system from a bright and early rise wouldn’t stand a chance in this quaint, domestic place and its enlivening, ambrosial scents as you approached the counter. A glance was passed to the occupants of the room—a man who looked like he just got out of the gym, two sickly looking old ladies by the window, a lady bouncing a kid on her hip, and a man in a suit who’s foot tapped in a ‘watching the clock closely’ fashion.

Giving a curt “Excuse me,” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual ‘Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans.’ You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“Ma’am …?”

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile. “Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please.”

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered, “..much more normal than that last customer,” under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/n, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student.”

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. Swiftly unlatching it and digging out two cards: one to show to the barista, your ID, and the second, your debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the ‘Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount.’ With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little ‘doot!’ , you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a ‘come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear!’

After a moment to place your things upon the uninhabited table, you then went over and leaned against the counter near where orders came out and scrolled nonchalantly through your cellular. A scoff or two may have escaped at whatever human news headlines caught your eyes, at least up until your expression glimmered with a split-second of trepidation as an instinctual swipe did away with an unwanted notification.

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

Not here, please, agonized the disguised witch silently. This was your one true escape—the one and only getaway from home that you had. Away from the mystic training, away from her, and into a place where you could be a normal... A normal what, human? Don’t even think about finishing that thought.

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little ‘cross my heart’ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “wasn’t performing at its peak.”, That you “should train more,” —no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “Seriously Y/n, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shoved the memory away violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, along with the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “Spiced Red Velvet latte!” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a ‘do not disturb for at least an hour’ switch.

You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every single visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“—that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte,” clarified the worker behind the counter, slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage. “The, uh, the next one will be out shortly!” They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

“Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush.”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises. His voice was deep and soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“Wait—wait what?”

Cue the double-take. From the drink, to those curious green eyes, right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society? “You’re just letting me have it?”

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude ‘I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink.’ from the stranger.

“Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too.” He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic. The “amaze” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“R.. Right..” Y/n’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by the worker chirping, “Another spiced red velvet latte, for here!”

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured.” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say, it’s too much sugar and spice.”

“It’s too much sugar n’spice.”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/n’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/n would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“So!”

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“Ya gotta be a regular, too, then?”

“Yes—what gave it away?”

Y/n inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it.”

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic ‘maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!?’

“Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph” Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“Raph,” He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“And your name?”

“Oh, it’s Y/n.” Your voice spoke sheepishly, wondering why it had taken you so long to say so.

“Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha!”His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little ‘shoooo’ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip. Ah, it’s still too hot.

“How long ‘ve you been a patron?”

The friendly human asked in order to continue the conversation. This had a tiny smile appearing on your face. You almost couldn’t remember the first time you stumbled into SnS. You blew out a winded raspberry.

“It’s been a good long while..” Pondering hums reverberated from within as your hands lifted the drink once more in a contemplative sip. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“Around 3 or 4 years,”

The cup’s bottom tapped the tabletop with a light clink. Ever since you had found one of the more far-off gateways from the Hidden City to the topside, your nose had followed the sweet aroma of coffee. Now every time you snuck away from your mother, you made sure to squeeze a stop here into the schedule. Fortunately for you, sneaking away was one of your specialties, thus your regular status at said coffeehouse.

“Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years!”

The huma— Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Silence filled up the space around you both. Though the conversation had reached a momentary halt, Raph caught himself lingering on a potential topic. Should he bring up Eastlaird? It was an overheard tidbit from the exchange between you and the employee at the register. But, how could he phrase it without sounding like a bit of a creep for eavesdropping in the first place? He glanced up from his glass to find you staring out of the window. Head angled slightly upwards as though captivated by something, and so his own gaze curiously followed yours to the bright blue sky.

Nothing particularly interesting nor impressive stuck out to him. It was just an ordinary sky—not exactly a clear sky, an occasional cloud would make it’s gradual trek across the expanse—, but as his eyes came back to you, it seemed your eyes saw something else in the overhead canvas. A soft smile graced your lips as your eyes affectionately soaked up the view. Maybe it was the strokes of light morning pinks and golden yellows streaking across the canvas. Or it might have been the dashes of clouds, like stretched-out cotton clouds, pinned to the board for depth. Something about this thing that Raph had seen every day yet never truly seen, the twinkle in your eyes had him taking another look. The atmosphere between the two of you opened up to him as he began to realize the position he was in.

Here, at a table for two, with a lady as pretty as you. Deceiving you, disguised and still daring to watch fondly at this vulnerable smile you gave. You were the perfect picture of someone who saw a world he didn’t, and that very thing was leaving a sour pit in his chest. Raph immediately looked down at his drink, taking another swig, but this time the sweet drink left a bitter aftertaste. Everything he did sounded louder to his ears—picking the cup up, swallowing the latte, placing it back down. He was suddenly all too aware of every action he made. How couldn’t he be? Look at you, so well put-together and serene, and here he was making a blunder of the whole conversation. You went out of your way to invite him, and his thanks to that was uninteresting small-talk.

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

The gap in the conversation only seemed to widen as the two of you both scavenged for the next topic. It was an understatement to say it was humiliating to you—inviting a stranger, who was a human also, don’t forget that very important bit, and then proceeding to give them the driest conversation in existence?

You took the pause as a chance to take in your delightful beverage, and it seemed he had the same idea. As the rays of sunlight filtered in through the bay window beside your table, framed by decorative brown curtains made of the silkiest fabric and lined with gauzy trim, you both had your spirits raised as you bask in warmth and contentment brought at the sweet and refreshing sting of the beloved lattes. As true to their name, the delicate blend of sugar and spice displayed a masterful dance upon your tongue. It was just the kind of drink to set you at ease and clear your head entirely, so much so that you found yourself needing to place the glass down gently and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate. Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

But, the little voice in your head interjected. This is someone showing us something different. Surely you see that, right? He is yet another example of a good human, and there has to be more, Y/n, you know it deep down!

And just like that, Y/n could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

And back at the table, that someone was almost disturbing those around him with how his leg was bouncing. A ding from his phone made his knee instantly knock against the table, spilling some of the liquid in his drink-twin’s cup. Begin the panic! Napkin after wadded napkin built up on the table as Raph worked to clean up the spill as best as he could, almost going so far as to pour some of his in to make up for the bit lost. Alas, some restraint was exercised while checking the notification that started this whole debacle to begin with.

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “the deets“ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘deets!‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off”

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the ‘ladies’. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

As he leaned into the palm of his hand, huffing and twiddling with the delicate chain around his neck, Raph thought back on what led up to him being here, his special café, with THEM, his meddling little brothers. His human thumb ran across the twinkling ruby as it gave off a magical glow.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

Not like that, no, I mean that he usually only ventures into the human’s stores and public spaces in get-ups that had him sticking out like a sore thumb. Like seriously, who wears scarves, hats, masks, and coats in summer and spring? But today, clad with a magical item, he was just a normal human being. Normal humans had the privilege of not melting themselves under radiating suns from seasonally-inappropriate disguises. They also held the privilege of getting their drink ‘for here’ instead of ‘to-go.’

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “Alright Raph, you got this!” before making a complete fool of himself.

“Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you….”

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a ‘Well? Go on?’ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“And uh… Where does he pay..?”

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as ‘this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst.’ They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “here, sir.”

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride from configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yous to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had told him plenty of times to, “refrain from touching it.” Which, fair, it was a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

Now the color alone would always catch his eye, but the reason he lingered was solely because of her. First, he started at the sandals. Awfully pretty, especially with how they wrapped up and around her calves. Raph could never pull that off, he concluded mentally. Next, his gaze continued to climb, taking in the red dress. The way it—

He blinked and began chiding himself for staring so blatantly. It wasn’t polite! Raph’s eyes darted back to the front and center, aimlessly looking at the menu he may or may not have known well enough to not even look. Away his gaze went, searching for yet another sight to focus on. Ah, right, he noticed the baristas had yet to start on his drink, which he didn’t mind, he wasn’t in a rush for anything more than a normal thing to look at for as long as needed without being creepy. A sign, a table, even a chip in the floors! But all too quickly he found his eyes roaming back to her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; although, a few pesky strands must have been bothering her because occasionally her swift hand moved to brush them right back behind her ear.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘Staring quite hard there, brother of mine’ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “Gotta look the part!” Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “Spiced red velvet latte!” broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

The hand he recognized much-too-quickly stiffly hovered near, and her gaze was a mixture of an unknown emotion and pure confusion. He, too, stiffened up as though meeting the eyes of Medusa herself. Gosh, she’s even prettier up close, a side-tracked thought said, only for him to recoil his rude hand and gesture to the drink. He was apologizing before your gaze could shift into anything that may have ached his heart, following it up with insisting you take the drink. He could wait! Whatever you were saying next was muffled as he found himself entirely entranced, answering in automated sentences that may or may not have been prepared, had he found himself locked in small talk with a human.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene. That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

And that is exactly how he got into this position: sipping his latte as he watched you come back over to your rightful seat, having left the lavatory. All while trying his best to look like a normal person who definitely did not make some of your drink rock out of its mug a second ago. No, not him. Totally. He’s innocent.

“Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness…”

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something?”

Curiosity and a bit of wariness swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/n..”

There was yet another one of those uncharacteristic thumps in your chest when his eyes met yours, pleading forgiveness. Rather than the usual bitterness settling in your chest, you found yourself a tad bit more patient towards this special boy. Your cheeks flushed, emitting a heat soothed by the cool side of your hand pressing against it with an even more uncharacteristic stammering.

“Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess.”

The next bout of silence was less awkward and more-so dizzying—in a good way. It fluttered your heart and felt welcoming. As the last bit of your drink passed your lips and settled inside, filling you with blissful comfort, you held out a hand for his empty mug. Perhaps a change of heart would do you some good—a kind gesture returned for someone who truly deserved none of your hatred. His eyes met yours, quickly understanding as he stood and passed the cup to you. This moment was coming to an end, and somehow that made your eyes sting for a moment. It was almost as if a tear was threatening you to prolong it as the ceramics were placed upon their respective ‘for-washing’ pedestals at the disposal corner.

“Well, Raph… it was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

The morning sun was still bright in the sky, shining through clouds in a way that almost spotlighted you guys as you gathered the courage to ask! Turning to face him, you bit the bullet and opened your mouth!

“Could we exch—IRK!”

Y/n lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph (and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “excuse me” or “sorry” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/n raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/n, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay?”

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my!”

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “What? Wait here,” was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

You watched Raph’s figure leave. A heavy exhale clawed itself from your chest. How foolish! You had been so caught up in thought—about asking for Raph’s number, that you had allowed someone to get so close. Too close, right into your personal space, and completely able to swipe your ring.

That small piece of jewelry was dearer to you than anything else you owned. It was what contained your power, or rather, what kept it in control. Without it, you were a hazard who started leaking mystic energy immediately. Red sparks crackling around your eyes when you were pushed.

Just seconds from a potential disaster, but somehow it was Raph’s voice that snapped you out of it. You couldn’t lose control here in front of the one place you swore to protect from your evil. You wouldn’t lose control in front of him. So when you barely explained with a shaky voice and he quickly sprung into action, leaving you, there was relief swirling around. This was a good thing. You’d rather him not be around to witness if you couldn’t maintain a firm grip on your power. Not him. Okay, try to distract yourself. Control, think about anything else, anything but your magic right now.

Oh, right! He had held you!

The thought struck you so fiercely your cheeks heated to the same shade as your dress. The warmth of his arms holding you lingered. Even just remembering the feel of his broad chest had you utterly distracted. And it hadn’t stopped there! He had brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers so careful and gentle. That type of touch was quite foreign to you. It had you blushing even more furiously than before—if that was even possible. Your eyes never left Raph’s back until he dashed out of view into an alleyway.

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The perpetrator had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/n call out “thief.”

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to zero. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

Fate was on Raph’s side, as is befitting of the hero, because he slowed to a stop to find the petty criminal glaring at the dead end before him. The universe was practically handing this criminal over to Raph in a cute little red bow right now.

“Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring.”

His voice was rough and commanding. Above all else, he despised those who preyed on the weak. Criminal acts like these deserved a good beating, but Raph was willing to compromise on that if this perp coughed up the ring without making things difficult.

“Back up, hero!”

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

Raph couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. If only this guy knew! Raph and his brothers faced weapons tenfold more menacing on every patrol. He doubted such a dull thing could even pierce his shell. For a second, he toyed with the thought of taking off the cloaking necklace. Showing his true form. This punk looked like the type to wet himself, and the slight trembling in his hand that wielded such a crude weapon didn’t go unnoticed by Big Raphie.

“They always wanna do it the hard way,”

Raph murmured, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/n’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand. I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady.”

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

Since having been left by Raph, you were finding each second to be harder and harder to restrain the burst of overflowing magic. Thoughts and distractions could only take you so far before fizzling out. Just as you were your mother’s vessel for revenge, that ring was your vessel for magic—a conduit, even. Others would even call it your arcane focus.

Bottomline was, without it, you could barely handle the destructive force pinballing around within. It seems the state you were in was so worrying that the two elderly ladies from the cafe came out, frantically bickering in harsh whispers that were all too muffled in your ears.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just you? Anyone else? Just you? Alright. Your body pressed harder into the cafe’s brick walls, soothed by the coolness they held. Your head was spinning, with worry and desperation. Was this area hidden enough to attract more danger? Had you really been so foolish as to leave yourself open in prime human territory? Hell, what if this was all an elaborate trick and that thief was actually in cahoots with Raph, and vice versa?

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

You want to believe humans are good, don’t you? How did that one saying go, the one about how even the smallest things can cause the biggest changes? However it went, it seemed this Raph human might have been your smallest thing, creating this ripple of thoughts in your head.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You had almost entirely given up on the last bits of hope for Raph being good when finally you saw his silhouette running back to you. He had the widest grin on his face, waving your focus in the air and calling out “Y/n! I got it, ya don’t gotta worry!”

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“Th-Thank you…”

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than you were capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“It’s no problem, Y/n… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset…”

His voice was softer than it had been during your talks inside. There was obvious concern and worry laced in it. Such kindness was nearly unrecognizable to you, so forgive the temporary dependence on it.

“More than you know, Raph..”

You replied, rubbing the ring so that it twirled around your skin—a nervous habit that Raph took notice to almost immediately. Forgive him, as well, for the heightened attention he had on you right now. A fond smile settled upon his lips as something came back to him suddenly.

“About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure.”

“What?”

You looked up, confused by what he meant. The smile he gave you was enough to put even more hope in your head, eroding the grime and muck that poisoned you, beckoning you deeper to the villainous pits.

“T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked?”

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress (because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯)

（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

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pinkiepiebones · 6 months

Text

IDK of this one's "good enough" for AO3 but it's def good enough for my tumblr lol

Proper.

Written for the prompt "touch starved." I failed the assignment! Brief sex scene.

(Zombie doesn't know shit about late 1800s courtship shhhh just go with it)

Elizabeth Catherine Gallagher was the youngest of her family. She was the only one with no prospects for marriage. She was quiet. She was reserved. She was nice to look at. Any man would be falling over himself to ask her father for her hand in marriage.

Elizabeth's husband met her father at a gentleman's club. They played a round of cards, Elizabeth's father told her, and at the end of the game, this Robert fellow agreed to marry her. That was that.

It was the sort of thing a woman was supposed to do. Marry a man. Live in a house. Have children. Yes, of course! Only those touched in the head or strayed from God would think otherwise.

Elizabeth wasn't touched in the head. And though she had meandered from God's path once before leaving school, with an older lass, when we kissed in hiding it felt as if the whole of my body were set ablaze, and I wanted nothing more than to use the fire that consumed me to burn away everything, leaving only myself and her, it was simply that. A meander. Elizabeth had righted herself.

Robert Montague Renfield was the youngest of his family. He was the only one with no prospects for marriage. He was affable. He was courteous. He was a slight man from good stock. And he was a lawyer- a good, safe job, where one could make good, safe money. Any father would be falling over himself to ask that Robert marry his daughter.

Robert met Mister Gallagher at a gentleman's club, and learned a bit about Elizabeth over a game of cards. By the end of the night he had agreed to marry her. That was that.

It was the sort of thing a man was supposed to do. Marry a woman. Buy a house. Have children. Yes, of course! Only those touched in the head or strayed from God would think otherwise.

Robert wasn't touched in the head. And though he had meandered from God's path once before college, with an older lad, when we kissed in hiding it felt as if the whole of my body were singing, and I wanted nothing more than to declare in song to all of God's creation my love for him, it was simply that. A meander. Robert had righted himself.

Elizabeth met her husband-to-be the night he arrived to deliver a dowry and an engagement ring. He slipped the ring on her finger, and smiled shyly.

"Mister Renfield, how nice to make your acquaintance," Elizabeth said quietly. Her mother and father laughed and said it would be fine to call her soon-to-be husband by his first name, since they were at home.

The two newly engaged young people sat side by side and obediently nodded as their parents and older siblings told them what was to happen, and when, and where.

Elizabeth and Robert married three months after meeting. Their honeymoon was to a quaint village just a half day's journey from their home.

They stood side by side in the bedroom and stared at the bed. Neither terribly excited.

"Right," Elizabeth sighed after a moment. She shed her clothes and unpinned her long golden hair and laid down on her back on top of the bedding. "Suppose we are to consummate this marriage, then, Mister Renfield."

Robert swallowed and followed his wife's cue. He had seen some saucy artworks in college, of course, but now having a wife, he realised he had never seen a real naked woman before. He fumbled out of his clothes and climbed on top of her. She opened her legs and he hesitated.

"I'm not s-"

"I thought y-"

"What if I-"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, as did Robert's.

Elizabeth fixed her gaze on a crack in the ceiling. Robert moved as he thought he should, and soon felt his bones turn to jelly. He panted and rested his forehead against Elizabeth's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, this is not at all romantic, is it?" He slid himself out of her and laid down beside her. He turned his head to watch her fold her hands over her belly.

"Is it supposed to be romantic?" she asked him. "There is a baby in me now, most likely. That is what everyone expects from us."

Robert turned on his side and, apprehensively, placed his hand on hers. She turned her head to look at him.

"Forgive my gloomy mood, husband. The wedding festivities still have me out of sorts."

Robert smiled and kissed her forehead. "Perhaps we should get under the bedding, then, and take a rest." Elizabeth nodded.

Under the sheets and blankets, Robert dared to hold his wife's hand.

"I will love you."

"And I you."

#renfield #dracfield week #Renfield is queer it's canon fact

21 notes · View notes

marwhoa · 1 year

Text

request: N/A

🝮 “ cherrypie prequel: sugar n’spice ”

rise!raph x villain!female!reader

author’s note: how long’s it been since cherrypie was posted??? a month? Well, here we are with another part!! this one is the prequel ( one of them 👀 ) and my first series! well, first series being actively posted. be sure to check out @tmntxthings and give them lovin’ on their post too! we both wrote this together. literally. Challenge style again!!!

word count: 6.9k (hehe, nice)

Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. “ Plain-jane “ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/N couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “ Welcome to Sugar n’Spice! “.

Giving a curt “ excuse me ” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual “ Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans ”. You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“ Ma’am …? “

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile.

“ Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please. “

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered “ much more normal than that last customer “ under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/N, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“ Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student. “

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. You unlatched it swiftly and dug out two cards: one to show to the barista, the ID, and the second to pay for the meal, the debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the “ Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount “. With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little “ doot ! “, you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a “ come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear! “

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

———————————————————

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little “ cross my heart “ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “ wasn’t performing at its peak. ”, that you “ should train more, “—no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “ Seriously Y/N, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shooed away that memory violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, taking with it the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “ Spiced Red Velvet latte! ” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a “ do not disturb for at least an hour “ switch.

Or so you thought. You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“ Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every. single. visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“ —that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte, ”

Clarified the worker behind the counter who had already began slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage.

“ The, uh, the next one will be out shortly! ”

They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

…

“ Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush. ”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises surprisingly quick. His voice was deep and somehow soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“ Wait—wait what? “

Cue the double-take. Look at the drink, now at those curious green eyes, and right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society?

“ You’re just letting me have it? “

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude “ I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink. “ from the stranger.

“ Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too. “

He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic.

The “ amaze ” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“ R.. Right.. “

Y/N’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by a different worker chirping, “ Another spiced red velvet latte, for here! “

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “ You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured. ” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“ Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“ Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say—“

“ It’s too much sugar n’spice. ”

“—it’s too much sugar and spice. ”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/N’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/N would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“ So! “

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“ Ya gotta be a regular, too, then? “

“ Yes—what gave it away? “

Y/N inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“ These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it. “

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic “ maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!? “

“ Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph? “

Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“ Raph, “

He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“ And yours? “

“ Oh, it’s Y/N. “

Your voice spoke sheepishly, as a confused thought echoed “ why had it taken you this long to say so “ in your head.

“ Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha! “

His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little “ shoooo “ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip.

Ah, it’s still too hot.

“ How long ‘ve you been a patron? “

“It’s been a good long while.. ”

Pondering hums reverberated from within as your finger tested the liquid once more, stirring contemplatively upon the drink being cool enough. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“ Around 3 or 4 years, ”

“ Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years! “

The huma—Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate.

Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

And just like that, Y/N could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

…

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “ the deets “ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“ Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘ deets! ‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off “

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the “ ladies ”. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “ alright Raph, do it like a boss! “ before making a complete fool of himself.

“ Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you…. “

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a “ Well? Go on? “ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“ And uh… Where does he pay..? “

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as “ this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst “. They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “ here, sir. “

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride in configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yours to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had swatted him plenty of times, hissing, “ refrain from touching it. “ Which, fair, it was a just a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘ Staring quite hard there, brother of mine ‘ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “ Gotta look the part! “ Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “ Spiced red velvet latte ! “ broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene.

That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

“ Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness… “

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“ Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something? “

Curiosity and a bit of spice swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“ I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/N.. “

“ Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess. “

“ Well, Raph.., it was nice meeting you. “

“ Likewise. “

His dopey smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

“ Could we exch—IRK! “

Y/N lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph ( and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt ), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “ excuse me ” or “ sorry ” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/N raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“ The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/N, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay? “

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“ Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my! “

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “ What? Wait here. “ was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

Oh, right! He had held you!

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The thief had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/N call out ‘ thief. ‘

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to 0. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

“ Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring. “

“ Back up, hero! “

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

“ They always wanna do it the hard way, “

Raph murmured in a chilling tone, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/N’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand.

…

I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“ Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady. “

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“ Th-Thank you… “

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than youwere capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“ It’s no problem, Y/N… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset… “

“ More than you know, Raph.. “

“ About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure. “

“ What? “

“ T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked? “

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress ( because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course. ) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

NEW CONTACT!

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯)

↳（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

taggies !! thou hast requested a messenger pigeon to deliver the holy texts upon their fabrication.

💌 ;; ﹝ @saspas-corner , @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner , @brunnetteiwik ﹞

#rise raph x y/n #rise raphael x reader #rise raph x reader #Raph x reader #Raphael x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rise tmnt x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader

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askyoungiron · 9 months

Note

Dear Green Arrow, mind telling us more about your days of the LNER and your siblings? Sounds like you got a lot of your own stories to tell.

What was a run you remember the most?

What engine was your best friend/worst enemy?

Was most of the A3's pricks as you mentioned??

What was the other Gresley engines like? (other classes then the A3's)

GREEN ARROW: My days on the LNER were quaint me and my siblings pulled express freight but we were so good that we also pulled express trains. I have a lot of stories, some involving getting into petty arguments with Black 5's and Jubilees! I still have a soft spot for those LMS lads and lasses!

The run I remember most probably wasn't a specific run. It was more, our siblings often challenged each other to beat each other's times on the fish trains. Coldstreamer always won though. Always. No one beat her time.

I've never really had a best friend. I was always kind of a loner. But my siblings were tight-knit so guess they counted.

Most of the A3s were stuck up, even the 'nicer' ones held an ego and were arrogant though. I know a few of my siblings had A3s for friends. I didn't and I never intend to.

The K4's and V class's were the ones we got along with the most. We often worked together being 'working class' engines. We'd often wager and stand together against the 'Express engines' if they interfered with our operations.

#ttte green arrow #green arrow answers

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eddapoetic · 6 months

Text

- - foile pour un @lostsovl

England, Byrne Estate, in the aftermath of the Treaty of Paris, 1814

An amicable bustle of light conversation mingles with the early summer air, laying comfortably mild across an otherwise lukewarm soiree; It is a modest congregation of gentlefolk that has come to dawdle in the gardens of the good Captain's estate, ladies in arms and men of the states, men of war, gathered far and not so far at all to partake in the clandestine performance of aristocratic repertoire. To show face, so to speak, as contracturally obligated by their standing in light of recently wordly events which might merit such a perfectly muted display of tactful camraderie.

It's almost impressive how dutifully they perform the charade of civility, expressions downright cordial, regardless of which sir or dame might otherwise stand to be associated with whom amongst their neighbour at any other time of day--

Or night, at the risk of tempting indiscretion. But that is to digress. What stands to matter is that the neatly trimmed lawn is host to many fine people on this particular eve, milling about to the strum of vaguely convivial chords and partaking in the finest selection of quaint appetizers His Majesty the King's money could afford. What stands to matter is the arrangement of finely laid out tables, neatly framing the grassy borders at the far brickwall, offering their bounties of fruits and tarts and fruity tarts with, at their center, a truly impressive layered trifle.

What stands to matter is that that's the one she goes through, first.

A cacophany of shattered glass and ungraceful clatters heralds it. The aftermath of one sly figure's improvised fence vault rings a discordant note throughout the merry gathering she interrupts, affronted gasps and startled squeaks taking the attendants like a wave as their baffled gazes tear from each other to fall upon her character - and she must look quite the image indeed, gaudy in her swallowpaint tailcoat and dandelion undershirt, the distinguished rosy-pink pantalons a sight to catch the eye even before she'd bepeckled herself with the benobled's early-dinner desserts. And stunned as they be, she doesn't stop at simply thus.

She breaks into a dash across the lawn, swift, steady, footing hardly lost from the fall and weaving through the crowds with little but quick nudges and darts of 'Pardon Me's'. At the heel of her wake, two constables struggle to make it over the wall in pursuit, clumsy in their scrabble of alarmed shouts whilst a third appears further down the lane - having evidently opted to spare himself the dignity and go through the gates, instead. He sprints whilst his companions drop onto what remains of already turned over tables and tarts, attendants splitting aside from his beeline to allow him to catch, to reach--

His target, however, is not yet lost for diversions.

"Spare a hand, lass?" The swallowtailed interloper ducks, for lack of a better word, into the brace of a singled-out lady ahead, dark-haired, fair-figured and keen eyed all at a gaze; A flash, for a blink, strikes her of something poignat she can't quite put her tongue to, through she does not wait to find the words, nor does she wait for a response before her arm shoots around the woman's waist and her hand finds a clasp in hers. With a smile and a mischievous glint, she spins them both aback - letting go to twirl the other straight into the arms of the constable behind, who promptly stumbles in reach for propriety. That'd be her cue to leave.

"Much appreciated. Enchanté--!"

#❱❱❱ t: circus aevitas #lostsovl #thread foileun #// unreasonably hyped for this thread #me at 2am #reading about 1810s mens fashion #and regency trifles #long post

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thearchmanofgreenfield · 6 months

Text

As evening dawned upon Hatlynshire, Anna found herself caught in quite the fray. The entirety of Anatoli Hamlet was in a state of panic. Anna herself was feeling quite scared on the inside. She stood leaning on a wooden banister overlooking the courtyard at the center of the Hamlet. It was quaint courtyard. It was square in shape and covered on all sides by a two story high building which contained all the major offices and administration centers as well as some leisure areas. The first floor of this building was mostly open arches while the second floor at a banister overlooking the yard. All of this was topped with a brick roof with the only other color coming from the various flower wines that grew around the building. It was certainly not paradise, but to Anna it was home.

Anna watched as the residents of the Hamlet scurried around. Various crates and other materials floated around the courtyard as the residents all gathered and counted their resources. Fearing for what was to come. Anna herself had only heard the news through Bon. And she could understand why everyone was so afraid. Ulysses Everton, the Baron of Everton Borough, had apparently been murdered the day before. But news of the death hadn’t reach the Hamlets until this afternoon. Anna understood why the sudden death of someone so important was worrisome. Especially considering the threat posed by the Order of Man.

“Don’t you dare leave the hamlet!” Bon had said to her while storing away his alcohol supplies. “I mean it this time! Those Hunters will be swarming the Borough now that Baron Everton’s dead”

“But doesn’t he have an heir? A son? He must have one surely! He can replace him” said Anna, who had never bothered herself with the lives of those posh Barons.

“I hear he does have a son. But as far as I know, he’s not even thirty years old! I doubt he could take the reins so swiftly. And even then the process of installing him to power may take time. In that time we’re vulnerable and the Hunters will take any chance to slaughter us!”

Anna then remembered looking at how Bon was putting away his alcohol. In wooden boxes that were lined with cloth.

“Why do you waste your time putting away all the wine and whiskey? It’s not like you can do any business when your bar is closed” to which Bon chuckled cheerfully. “Oh my dear, in a time like this. I feel as though we all need a drink to drown away our fears. And that is what I intent to do, I would give you some too if you weren’t a wee lass.”

Anna remembered frowning since she wasn’t too enthusiastic about being called a ‘Wee lass’. But then Anna snapped out of her memory as she tried to focus on one place. She stared at the other end of the courtyard. Directly to a large door that she knew led to the office of Mr. Howards, the man in charge of Anatoli Hamlet. Anna was looking for Caroline, who she hadn’t seen since yesterday where they had spent a few together frolicking about. She knew Caroline couldn’t easily show her face in the Hamlet since her activities as a vigilante had branded her as a criminal. But she had heard from Bon that Mr. Howards had wanted to meet Caroline today. No doubt due to the news of what ah transpired in the day before.

Finally, just as the sun was getting ready to set, Anna saw a figure dressed in a grey cloak walk through the courtyard and towards the door. Anna knew it had to be Caroline. She watched as the figure walked to the door of Mr. Howards’ office. She couldn’t see whether she knocked but she did see the door open. She then watched the door open from the inside letting the hooded figure step in. The door then closed behind the figure.

Anna down to the courtyard from the balcony through a set of stairs. She then ran out of the building and went through a small path next to it which led behind the building. Anna was used to this trail. Caroline had taught it to her when she had first started her band of outlaws. She had acted in secret and her actions were not legal in the eyes of the Circulion Code. But Mr. Howards didn’t know about it at first. Hence Anna had been tasked to find out whether or not Howards knew by spying on him through a window from time to time. Anna knew that third window at the back of the building was the one that looked into Howards’ office. She reached it and then taped on it lightly to check whether it was locked. It was. She then placed her hand quietly on the glass. She then concentrated. Using her power through glass was also something Caroline had taught her. And it often came in handy.

Using her concentration Anna managed to undo the lock on the other side of the glass. Once she did she slowly pushed opened the window as to not create any noise. She then peeked her head into the room. She couldn’t see either Howards or Caroline as the window was covered by a large wooden cabinet. Anna then reached her hands through the windowsill and wriggled her way through. She then slowly stepped into the room and hid behind the cabinet. She had done this many times, and not once was she caught. Howards’ office itself was quite lavish. Howards himself sat behind a wide mahogany desk with a golden three pronged candle holder, in a fancy cushioned chair with a large portrait of himself on the wall behind him next to a red banner with the symbol of Anatoli Hamlet and a white banner with the symbol of the Circle on it. She then peeked her head out the cabinet and listened.

“I suppose you’ve heard the news then” said a masculine voice. Anna recognized it to be Mr. Howards. Who was a thin man who always wore his Nobleman uniform whenever he was in the Hamlet. Anna always thought the blue uniform with the black hat with a huge feather made him look like a fancy ship captain. She knew it certainly matched his personality.

“Everton’s dead. I suppose that means you have one less person to answer to for some time” said Caroline in a straight and emotionless voice. She always spoke to Howards in a professional voice. Never even letting her posture flinch.

“Yes, I suppose I do. And it will be quite a long time as I hear”

“Why is that?”

“Word among my superiors is that Everton’s son has gone missing. He is nowhere to be found, which is to be expected. Someone with as much power and influence as a Great House member can make themselves disappear to an untraceable extent. Even more so the Evertons, whose main business is in theatrics and deception”

Anna noticed Caroline pause for a moment. Obviously thinking about something.

“Well then, if the son is missing. What is to become of the Borough?”

“That is why I called you here, Miss Dawton. With the fate of our borough unsure, you no doubt expect the Hunters will take advantage of this situation. I expect nightly patrols to worsen over the coming weeks. We might even face a siege if they find a way to get to this Hamlet”

“Are you asking for my protection, Howards? What, your fancy soldiers can’t do that for you already?”

Howards didn’t answer her immediately. Which meant that Caroline was most likely correct in her assumption.

“I am not asking for your protection, Miss Dawton. I am simply requesting your cooperation in these trying times”

“Really now? Cooperation in what way?”

Howards paused again. Anna then heard sound of scuffling. She looked over the edge of the cabinet and saw Mr. Howards lean his head closer to Caroline while putting both his arms on his desk.

“Before I tell you, I want your word that whatever we discuss here stays confidential. Do you understand? This much not reach the ears of the other residents”

“I understand you quite clearly, Howards” said Caroline is unaverred tone. “Only my crew shall know. And I swear on my life that they will keep your secret, for my sake”

“Good” said Howards, reclining back into his cushioned chair. He then took a deep breath as though he was about to unleash a shocking revelation.

“We are running low on finances, Miss Dawton”

“What do you mean? You seem to be doing quite well. I assume you the Treasury handed you a large sum along with the notice to barricade the Hamlet”

��The Treasury released six million Sorasy in funds” said Mr. Howards. “But once divided among the nine Hamlets it not nearly enough to cover the costs of protecting this place”

“Well, have you appealed to the Treasury? I’m sure they’ll give you more. They’ve given it you for lesser reasons than this before after all”

Mr. Howards didn’t seem to enjoy that remark. “I have appealed to them. But they haven’t answered me yet. I assume the other Hamlets have also done so, hence the delay. But even then, it could take weeks before I get an answer. And even with all the money I have locked away in our reserves we cannot survive more than a month if the Hunters act! And believe me, they WILL act!”

Caroline said nothing for moment. Then she replied in a softer voice. It was clear she took Howards worries seriously as she also cared for the Hamlet she called home. “I see, but what do you want from me and my band of ‘lawless bandits’?”

“I need you to help me protect this Hamlet” said Mr. Howards in a rare moment of desperation. Perhaps saying his situation out loud had made him realize the severity of it. “I will give you and your outlaws’ full Noble protection. I shall give you free rein to vanquish our foes. No more hiding in alleyways and avoiding Circulion soldiers. In return, I want to protect our supply routes, our borders and the streets. I shall even provide you with ammunition! No more stealing from my stores, you can have it all! But unfortunately, that is all the compensation I can give”

He then leaned Caroline again. “Please, Miss Dawton. I know you desire revenge. Revenge for what happened to your family and I can give it to you with no consequences from the law. Just say yes”

Caroline went silent for almost a minute. Anna had never heard Mr. Howards, who was usually very calm and often times quite prideful, sound so desperate. Anna did not doubt Mr. Howards’ willingness to help the residents of the Hamlet. But to see him plead with Caroline, who he considered to be a criminal, was something Anna did not expect.

Anna then heard the sound of chair moving. Indicating that one of two people in the office had stood up. Anna guessed it was Caroline. Anna turned away from the room and faced the window, ready to jolt out, but she halted when she heard Caroline talk again.

“I know you, Mr. Howards. You see me as only a cost cutting measure. But even that is more than I expected from you. For if I had stepped into your office a week earlier, you would have had me arrested.”

“I apologize for our past interactions, Miss Dawton. But I assure you, you will not have to worry of being prosecuted every again. If you just accept my proposition”

“I expect that you want to keep this arrangement private. I doubt your superiors would want to know that you intentionally work with renegades and the like”

“Yes, that would be much appreciated. If, of course, you accept”

Anna peeked her head again and saw Caroline turn towards Howards. “No matter what I think of you, Howards. I do not doubt that you are a man of your word” she said. Howards grinned at the compliment. He and Caroline then shook hands. “I accept your preposition”

“Thank you. I suppose we shall begin immediately then?” Howards asked.

“No, my crew and I will approach you tonight when everyone is asleep. It’s better that way. Now if you do not mind, I am needed elsewhere. I know my sister is expecting me, no doubt because of the news that has led to all this chaos.” Caroline replied sternly.

“Good. Good indeed” said Howards with a smile. Caroline then put her hood on and turned around to leave. Anna swiftly turned around and dashed through the window before Caroline could reach the door. Anna then ran back all the way to the courtyard and slowly walked in just as she saw Caroline walk out of Howards’ office. She then eased her pace and pretended to walk in random direction so that Caroline could spot her.

Anna noticed Caroline walk towards her. She slowed down and let her catchup to her. Caroline grabbed Anna’s shoulder. And Anna turned around and acted surprised.

“Caroline! You came!” she said in an excited voice.

“Oh Annie, of course I came. I know you’ve been waiting for me”

“Well I always wait for you. Even when you never come” said Anna, remembering all the morbid times that Caroline missed their engagements in order to pursue something or the other. Caroline frowned at that remark but then smiled again.

“Well I’m here today. So I suggest we make the most of it” she said. She then took her hand out of Anna’s shoulder and began to walk slowly towards the exit leading to the rest of the Hamlet. She then tilted her head sideways and gave Anna a grin.

“But first, you must promise me something”

“What?” Anna asked eagerly, ready to promise her sister anything.

“I want you to promise that you’ll never tell anyone what you heard in that office”

Caroline’s words caught Anna by surprise. An eagerness and cheerful mood diminished slightly and she felt a bit embarrassed.

“You…you saw me? How?”

“My dear Annie, I taught you how to spy on Howards. But you still have a lot to learn. Especially in regards to not leaving a closed window open”

Anna felt embarrassed. She had left the window open in her haste to leave the office. A blunder so obvious it made her feel like an amateur. But Caroline turned around and held her by the chin. Her warm and caring smile always made Anna feel better.

“Don’t worry, dear sister. You’ll master the art of hiding in the shadows one day. I know that to be fact!”

“Then why don’t you let me join your crew?” asked Anna. Caroline’s expression immediately changed. But now that the question was brought forth. Anna wasn’t about to back down. “You know I want to join. I want to learn. I want to fight alongside you”

“Your too young, Annie. Much too young”

“But I want to join. I want revenge as much as you do!”

“Revenge is not worth dying for!” said Caroline suddenly. It was clear that the thought of losing Anna frightened her more than any Hunter. “Revenge is not what I see when I pull the trigger of my gun. To kill is a horrific experience unlike any other. An experience you should never have to undergo. Besides, the nighttime streets are much too dangerous for an untrained child as yourself!”

Anna took a step back from Caroline. Her voice instilled fear but it also filled Anna with anger.

“I am capable of handling myself! I can prove it to you! I am not some imbecile who cowers in fear!”

“Well your performance on the field certainly doesn’t speak in your favor” said Caroline snidely. Anna knew she was recalling to the time Anna froze in fear when confronted with a Hunter. Anna paused and frowned angrily. Caroline then took a deep breath and calmed down before speaking to Anna again. “You are more valuable to me than anything. I don’t want you risking your life at night trying to achieve an impossible task. I want you here, I want you to aid this hamlet. Our home. I want you to keep it safe.”

“Then why do you go out at night and try to achieve this ‘impossible’ task? Why do you put your life at risk even when you know I want you to stay here with me?”

Caroline paused, and then sighed. “I’ve made my mistakes, to watch you repeat them is the last thing I want” she then held Anna firmly by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “So please, Annie. For my sake. Do not go out there. Especially during these times”

Anna avoided her gaze but then nodded in agreement. Caroline’s warm smile then returned. She then let go of Anna and held her hand out to her.

“Come then, why don’t we have some fun while I’m here? Nice days like this do not come often”

Anna looked at Caroline and smiled thoughtfully. She then grabbed her hand walked out of the courtyard with her. She was grateful to have her here knowing that the next few weeks will be nothing but chaos and worries. But still, she couldn’t help but think that Caroline had underestimated her. She still yearned to go outside and exact her vengeance upon those who had taken so much from her. She needed to prove herself to Caroline. And she was going to do it…somehow.

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godfrey-hath-forsaken-thee · 1 year

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On Thin Ice

So... This was a little story I submitted to a writing competition at school, and it got second place! This little piece of no-plot fluff got SECOND PLACE in a writing contest!!

Brief summary of Whomst The Frick is in the story:

Samantha McDermott is, at this point in my lore for her, 20 years old. If I had to describe her in one word, it would be determined. Samantha is fairly intelligent, and though she tries to appear tough, she cares about people a lot. She's currently taking a gap year and travelling the world, and right now, in December, she finds herself in the Norwegian mountains, sharing a cabin with...

Nicole Saunders - Nicky for short to those who know her well. She's about the same age as Samantha, and she's bright, optimistic and outgoing. She was ✨single handedly✨ responsible for Samantha's Bisexual Awakening, and the two make for one heck of a couple.

Please let me know if you enjoy this, I love getting feedback from people!

Now, without further ado, let's get on with it...

The door of the quaint little mountain cabin swung open and hit the wall from the force of the gale outside. Two young women entered, and the snow blew in with them, taking the heat from the air. Samantha McDermott was the first to step onto the rug, not caring about the tracks her sodden boots left in their wake. She removed her brown overcoat and hat, revealing her light brown hair, windswept and messy, but she kept her blue scarf on, arranging it a little more neatly. Nicole Saunders followed her, shivering violently with her head bowed and immediately walking somewhat awkwardly into the living room.

The two of them had been ice skating on a frozen lake nearby, and had severely misjudged the thickness of the ice; Nicole had fallen though and gotten soaked. After about thirty seconds of utter panic, Samantha pulled Nicole by the arms out of the freezing water and helped her get out of her skates. It was then that they decided to simply walk back to the house and try and get her warm.

Samantha lit a fire in the living room, and set the mug of hot chocolate she'd made for Nicole on the table. Nicole reached for the cup, drinking deeply from it and giving a shaky sigh. She continued holding the mug, clutching it like a sort of lifeline, coveting the warmth it gave. Samantha bustled out of the room, getting a thick tartan blanket from upstairs. She then came back into the living room and moved the couch a little closer to the fire, inviting Nicole to sit down. Nicole arranged the blanket around herself and gave another harsh shudder. "Don't move, Nicky," Samantha said softly, "I'll get your nightgown and pyjamas so you can get out of those wet clothes…" Nicole tried to answer, but could barely speak because her teeth were still chattering from the frigid conditions outside. She took off her jacket and boots, which were absolutely drenched. Samantha came back in and handed the silky pyjamas and fluffy lavender nightgown to Nicole, before leaving again for a few minutes so Nicole could get changed. When Samantha returned for the last time, she was in her nightdress and a tartan dressing gown. She took a sip from her own mug of hot chocolate, which was beginning to go cold.

"Are you alright after that, Nicky?" Samantha asked, "That was a hell of a fall you took." "I'm fine," Nicole said, a little shakily, "I just can't seem to get warm, is all…" "That's the last time I ever set foot on a frozen lake," Samantha muttered to herself, "Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" "Noted," Nicole had to agree with Samantha, "But it was my own fault, really - I should've known better." "Don't blame yourself, lass," Samantha told her, "What matters is that you're okay now." "Well, I hope I am, anyway," Nicole began, "I still feel freezing, and I think I'm getting a headache…" Nicole raised a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment while she re-centered herself.

"Let me get a look at you, love," Samantha said. Nicole raised her head, looking up at Samantha, Her weary, out-of-focus brain struggled to take in Samantha's concerned expression; she looked even more anxious than usual. "Y-you're doing that thing with your hands again," Nicole pointed out, her voice breaking involuntarily. Samantha was tapping her fingers, the way she always did when she was nervous. She couldn't help it, it just happened. But Samantha Hortense McDermott knew when someone wasn't feeling their best - indeed, it was a feeling she herself knew all too well. When someone needed help, a softer side to Samantha emerged. She was usually so uptight and serious, but she cared about the people she loved an awful lot. And right now, Nicole was someone she really loved. She'd never felt this way before, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome.

"I think we should both get to bed," Samantha suggested, "The rest will do us good." She let Nicole lean on her shoulder as the two of them stood up, which was fortunate, because Nicole was a little unsteady on her feet. Samantha helped her walk up the stairs to their bedroom. There were two single beds there as opposed to a double - probably just as well, as Samantha couldn't sleep with someone next to her. And those beds had never looked quite as inviting as they did tonight. "Goodnight, Samantha," Nicole said through a yawn as she got comfortable under the covers. She fell asleep almost immediately. "Goodnight, my darling," Samantha smiled as she turned off the light, before fumbling her way through the darkened room and getting into her own bed.

It took her longer to fall asleep. Thoughts and feelings chased each other around her mind, some of them achingly familiar, others totally new. She'd never expected, when she and Nicole first crossed paths, to feel this way about her. And she certainly hadn't imagined that she would be quite so… fascinated by the sight of her in this situation. Samantha knew she was doing a good thing, helping her out, and maybe that fulfilment in itself was part of it, but there was something about the way NIcole looked at her as she pulled her out of the icy water, something about the way her hair, wet and limp, framed her face perfectly, something about how her voice cracked and wavered when she spoke, that for some reason Samantha found a little bit pleasing.

"Why do I feel like this?" Samantha asked herself, "I… I shouldn't feel this way…" She sighed. This was going to be a long night, wasn't it?

#godfrey's random rambles #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my ocs #hell yea babey #i posted something #hope you like <3

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willieshaw · 1 year

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Location: Madi’s home @madibyrd

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that everything had changed. Despite this Will sauntered through what had once been his village, his beloved quaint little home. It was buzzing with life now and that much he did love. Even if he didn’t recognise a soul. He waved at a couple of lass’ that looked his direction but was otherwise pre-occupied, a sole mission. He’d dreamt of going home, and now it was going to be a reality. Maybe he might just wash off the worst of the dirt and change into something a little fresher. An old friend had instilled in him the importance of washing.

Evidently, it wasn’t his home anymore. Will approached cautiously to find it wasn’t much like he’d left it. “Ay’up?” He called, but there was nothing, no response. Will knocked, hard. Waiting for that permitted time to pass before he pushed open the door, pleased to find no-one had found a way to fit a lock. Everything inside had changed. The furniture he’d built was still standing. That was probably just about it. Will sat down at the table, half expecting one of those wretched annoying lads to come bouncing out. Nothing. No-one.

His damn fault for wishing ill on them.

Will scraped a hand over his scalp, but there was no use in dwelling on that. He wondered what had been done with his tools. The workshop he’d set up in the corner that was now cleared away and in its place was the makeshifts of a kitchen. “Good on ya.” He muttered. There was an adjacent bathroom which William found a bucket of what appeared to be fresh water he wilfully borrowed it and dragged it into the main room. He’d replenish it later. He stopped dead as he realised he wasn’t alone. “Ay’up ducky?” He called.

#madi (001)#sorry was gonna keep this short but.#it's just will being like ooh what's this #what's this

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this-is-the-movie · 11 months

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let us tell the tale of another Dream Monster, somewhere else in the world of Magic Land, in another time… maybe.. I don't actually know when this happened in relation to the previous story..

…regardless!

[WIP] The Movie - Chapter 1 The Prologue (Part II)

This is the story of Jack Honey-Dew.

[She is the 1st of the VII Main Characters_]

She lives with her pet woof Goldie, in a humble little home sitting on a roundabout, in a quaint little place called Claptrap City. She's carefree but caring of others, One Smart Cookie, and she's rather very small. A little lass. Here's the rundown; she's a little bundle of love.

[drawing 1 - Jack Honey-Dew]

Today is a Very special day, as it's the birthday of Jack's parent, the one and only, Joey Buttermilk! Head inventor at Claptrap City, responsible for creating public transport! self opening doors! and countless other major (and minor) inventions to better the world of Planet-Magic-Land, and all of Magic Land in general! Somewhat clumsy and Extremely careless, but full of nothing but love for the world (and for their daughter)

[drawing 2 - Joey Buttermilk]

Jack arrives at Joey's place, but Joey is nowhere to be seen! Snooping and Sneaking and Looking Around, she finds a VHS, addressed to her no less! So without further ado, she slots it into Joey's VHS Player, and watches the footage of Joey, filming themself from an unfamiliar place..

Joey - "Hey there sport, my little light of life, you're probably wondering why I'm nowhere to be found! So allow me to explain myself.. you know, I don't think I ever told you Jack... Long ago, long before I was blessed with the gift of little old You, and back when I had only just started making a name for myself as a... "moderately"…. "successful"….. "inventor"…... I had one day taken on a job from an unknown client, asking me to create some sort of Power Source, that, as the client described, would somehow "benefit all of Magic Land" I, being young and naive and not knowing a Whole Lot Better, and a little Too eager to jump at any chance to make the world a better place, took the job immediately.

I worked tirelessly on the project night and day and months and months until the Power Source was finally complete.. 'The Devil's Engine' "

[drawing 3 - The Devil's Engine]

Jack asks why Joey would name something they thought would benefit the world something as ominous and intimidating as "The Devil's Engine"

Joey points out that they're just a VHS recording and can't answer any questions…

but ultimately answers with "because it Sounded Cool"

this is true, it DOES sound cool

Joey - ...*ahem*

..OH Right, please Continue Joey..

Joey - "…..it wasn't until the Devil's Engine was complete that I finally met face to face with the mysterious client who had hired me in the first place, it was a General, it was none other than General War! A Greedy Selfish and a BIG Naughty who relished nothing more than the thrill of Power and Chaos. She revealed her true plan to me; the Devil's Engine would be used to power nothing more than a weapon, some new technology described as, something called a.."Tank".. that "Wouldn't Even Need A Pilot" a weapon that could apparently, single-handedly, turn the tide on any battlefield, something called 'Project Nidhogg'. Now, you know how I feel about War and The Machines That Fuel It Jack, so I wasn't particularly keen on getting anymore information on the project itself..

However! All I remember is the General boasted that with this new weapon, she'd use it's tremendous power to travel to the War Dimension, and once there with her mighty creation, the war machines trapped there would gladly bow to her feet, and with their combined powers she could then set out on her One True Goal; to locate the Forbidden Seven (VII) Idols!! With which she'd use to Locate and Uncover the Power of the elusive Rainbow Skull!!1! using it's power of infinite wishes she would plunge the whole of Magic Land into darkness!!!1!! making the world her own personal battlefield from which SHE!!! ! WOULD BE THE TRUE RULER OF!!!11!!!1!!!!! ! etc

[drawing 4 - The General's True Plan (Artist's Interpretation)]

I responded to all this exposition with a swift kick in the General's.. 'private quarters' and simply left.

What I had.. 'forgotten' to mention however, is the Devil's Engine could only be activated via the Super Secret Cool Pawprint Scanner™ that I had installed, which Only responds to my own Pawprint DNA, otherwise, the Power Core is useless, a kind of 'failsafe' I suppose, and with it being clear that the General wouldn't be able to find any other old inventor to simply Build A New Power Source, this had left 'Project Nidhogg' practically useless.. thwarting the General's plan before it ever even started…

Ever since then, General War has likely been hunting me down tirelessly, a ghost from my past trying to seep into the present, planning to, most likely, kidnap me and force me to finally activate the Devil's Engine.. awakening her Horrid Creation, putting the General's terrible plan back into motion, and dooming the world and destroying everything we all know and love…"

...Joey then says this actually has nothing to do with why they're currently missing.

...

..thanks Joey.

...

..Joey then realises there isn't enough tape left on the VHS to Actually explain why they're missing so all they're able to provide is some coordinates.

...

THANKS. JOEY.

With nothing but coordinates to go on to some place called "the Tree of Old Solomon", Jack packs her essentials (mainly Goldie and her walking cane) and prepares to head off.

Before she heads off however, Jack phones up her best friend to check up on him, it's his birthday today too after all! He seems to be well and thanks her again for the gift she got him, a pair of red trainers! She hates to ask this on his birthday but, nevertheless, she asks if he'd be able to join her on this Epic Quest. He tells her as much as he would love to, he's currently got his own Prologue he's going through! Jack understands, they both wish each other the best of luck, and they both promise to tell each other all about their adventures afterwards. Her friend then says something about stealing a boat, but before Jack can ask, the call ends..

Jack and Goldie hop into Jack's Custom-Made-Super-Cool Boat (it's a bathtub) and set sail, off to seek out Joey..

[drawing 5 - setting sail, off to seek out Joey]

After a gruelling.. One (1) day's journey, after following the coordinates as best as they can, Jack and Goldie arrive at a mysterious island. Housing a mighty tree, lush and so large it's branches are big enough to hold entire houses, and the very top is hidden up in the clouds! Jack and Goldie have no choice but to assume they have arrived at none other, than the Tree of Old Solomon.

[drawing 6 - the Tree of Old Solomon]

When Jack and Goldie arrive on the shore they are quickly greeted! …by someone hanging upside-down by her leg. Jack meets Shoelace, a clumsy, nervous, awkward wreck who's always in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time.

[drawing VII - Shoelace (upside-down)]

Shoelace - "Hark! Brave Travellers! (you there with the fat dog) you stand at the base of the mighty Titan; Old Solomon! hm? I do not know of a fellow named 'Joey' but you're best bet is the most obvious of solutions; climb this mighty tree, trek upwards, Go All Vertical, and seek council with whomsoever lives on his outstretched branches, and if that doesn't grant you any new knowledge, then if you truly mean to find this '... Johnny Joey!' then your last resort should be 'The Guy Upstairs'… How to begin the trek? There are lifts of course! OH and.. while you're up there.. if you could.. free me.. that would be nice, I fell for the siren-call of this rope and now find myself ensnared by her ropey machinations.. Now Go Forth! many Best of Lucks upon thee! You'll not know fear as long as I may live! ...and so on!"

It doesn't take Jack long looking around before she indeed finds the main lift leading upwards, built into the base of this mighty tree! ..but it's busted. Luckily growing up with an ever inquisitive inventor as a parent, Jack knows her way around all things technology! Though, this lift is rather beyond her. She's never seen such metalwork and the inner machinations aren't the usual circuits she's become accustomed to… in other words; Big Cogs are Not her forte.

Upon returning to our upside-down friend, Shoelace only now remembers to tell Jack that indeed the lifts are busted, that main lift, and the others like it further up the tree, were all made long ago by the Legendary Blacksmith who lives here! The Blacksmith used to regularly check up on the lifts and keep them in good shape, but that was long ago, and as the Blacksmith became more and more reclusive, it's no wonder the lifts have fallen into such disarray, if Jack is going to climb this tree, she'll need the help of this Blacksmith. Shoelace tells Jack she can find the Blacksmith in her forge, on the opposite end of the island to where Jack parked her.. "boat". Shoelace points her in the right direction (although somewhat struggles at first, being upside-down frazzling her sense of direction) and Jack takes off to see the Blacksmith.

Jack uses the opportunity to give Goldie a well deserved walk and take in the sights on the way. There.. isn't much to see. A couple of Palm Trees, a few rocks, and a nervous wreck hanging upside-down, so it's not long before Jack indeed spots the forge, a small and reclusive looking little place, smoke clouds poofing out from it's tall chimney, and the faint sound of clanking emanating from within.. (that means someone's at home!)

As Jack heads towards the forge however, of all the things she could come across, she passes by a dimly lit alleyway in a crevice of the Base of the tree.. was this always here? it seems rather out of place..

From the strange alleyway, a figure beckons Jack over, and against her better judgement, Jack approaches..

From the darkness of the alley, the figure steps forth.. kind of. Still hidden in the shadows, it's hard to make them out clearly, but it seems like they're rather well dressed, the most noticeable feature however is that the Right Side Of Their Face Seems To Be Missing, not that that's an issue mind you.

The figure simply hands Jack something, it's a.. Typewriter! Jack has heard about these but never seen one in person! It's like a new way to type, and print, at the same time! And it makes cool sounds as you make up stories! Jack looks up to ask Why, and Who, and How, and What, and maybe even a Where, but sees the figure is gone! The whole alleyway is gone! She's staring right at nothing but tree trunk. Was that a strange hallucination? a vivid dream? she's still holding the Typewriter, so it must have happened..

[drawing 8 - The Typewriter]

Jack has no choice but to shake it off, and shifts her focus back to the task at hand. Carrying the hefty Typewriter, she continues to the forge..

Leaving Goldie to guard the Typewriter outside, Jack enters the forge, and it's about what you'd expect, kind of. The walls are decorated with all sorts of tools and a huge variety of metals and other materials to work with, a roaring fire burns in the back, and the smell of heat and metals (and rather thick smoke) fills the air. It seems like this Blacksmith does not create any Weapons however, as along with the tools and materials, the walls and tables are also lined with prosthetics, varying in all shapes and sizes, and Jack even recognises some parts for wheelchairs and walking canes along the walls too! You would think an over abundance of Tools, Materials, and Projects both Finished and Unfinished in such a small place would be messy and crowded, but it is remarkable how surprisingly tidy and organised everything is! Though what catches Jack's eye the most, is the Blacksmith herself.

A huge one-armed shark-like being almost as tall as the forge itself works at her anvil, their right arm hammering down on her current piece of work, the metal itself attached to her anvil by a clamp to help the Blacksmith work one handed, and every time her hammer meets the metal Jack can feel every impact reverberate in her bones, as Sparks and Ancient Magic buzz and fly off the Blacksmith's current project. Jack tries to make her presence known to the, quite frankly, intimidating figure she sees before her, but the Blacksmith being so focused on their work doesn't seem to realise little Jack's there at all. A brief moment of silence gives Jack a chance to speak up, but before Jack can let a single word leave her mouth, the Blacksmith opens her own mouth and bellows out a mighty flame onto the metal to heat it up! I guess it saves her time to unclamp the metal and carry it over to their furnace every time they want to heat it up, though that raises the question that Jack wonders as to why the Blacksmith has that roaring fire in the back still going then..

Going over to the fire, she sees the Blacksmith is using it to cook a quaint little meal.

ah.

Waiting for an(other) opportunity of silence, Jack sees no other option but to patiently wait for the Blacksmith to be finished with her work. After what seems like a patient eternity (it was a few minutes) the Blacksmith finally puts the finished piece of the new prosthetic she was working on into her barrel of water to cool it off, and hangs it up with the countless others. With the Blacksmith done, Jack finally is able to make her presence known to them (she taps her cane against one of the many sheets of metal a few times) The Blacksmith realises she has a visitor, the intimidating presence vanishes as she nervously tidies herself, and after seemingly putting her hammer away Somewhere on her person (though Jack can't seem to see where) the Blacksmith finally turns around to greet her guest. The two finally see face to face and there is an incredible silence. Jack sees the most beautiful being she has ever seen in her life, and for the Blacksmith seeing Jack, it is the same.

[drawing 9 - The Blacksmith and Jack see eye to eye]

The few moments of Awkward Gay Silence seem like an eternity..

Jack is the first to get Actual Words out of her mouth that aren't just "hsdvbjhs"

She fumbles and trips over words like loose pavement, but manages to introduce herself, and gives the Blacksmith the lowdown, about Joey, about the coordinates, about the quest to climb sky high up the tree, and asks if the Blacksmith could help out by repairing the lifts that Shoelace had told Jack she had made. After managing to get some coherent words out of her own mouth too, the Blacksmith shyly introduces herself, as Chalk Sunshine.

[She/They are the 3rd of the VII Main Characters_]

Fumbling over her own words, Chalk says she's sorry to hear about Jack's dilemma, about her missing parent, but most of all about the lifts, as they were her responsibility to keep in good condition, and, after some hesitation and some reflection on her negligence, she says she'll gladly help as best she can. She admits though it's been a Good While since she's been outside.. At All, so to say she's a little nervous and shy is a.. Vast understatement, Jack understands and says she'll try her best to make Chalk feel as comfortable as possible :)

As they leave the Forge and Jack introduces Chalk to Goldie however, Jack remembers the Great Big Heaving Typewriter she's going to have to carry all the way up the tree. Chalk says she might be able to help with that, and reveals a secret compartment in her chest! (it's not as gross as it sounds) That explains where she put her hammer away earlier.. Chalk plops the Typewriter into her chest, and they continue to the main lift.

Chalk fixes the lift without any issues whatsoever, as Jack watches on in fascination at Chalk's powerful yet delicate handiwork and craftsmanship. As they take the repaired lift upwards Jack compliments Chalk's work, Chalk shyly accepts the compliment, and admits that she's actually worked on most machinery in the whole of Magic Land long ago, and was once even known as the 'Legendary Blacksmith'. Jack says she's surprised she's never heard any tales about a Legendary Blacksmith, and Chalk admits that was a long time ago, and considering she's "given up" for a long time now, it's no wonder the tales fell into obscurity. When Jack goes to ask why they gave up, Chalk begins to trail off and falls silent, Jack decides to leave it at that.

The trip up the tree is an adventure and a half, arriving on one branch, solving some side quests, asking about Joey, not getting many answers, then repairing the next lift and heading up even higher. They free Shoelace from the dastardly Rope Demon, help cure The Fox of her Evil Cold, defeat the powerful Dragon of Beltfarst Square, and reunite the family of Lil' Guys, all the while, the friendship between Jack and Chalk grows ever stronger, and Jack and Chalk grow closer and closer.

[drawing 10 - All Those Cool Adventures I Done Did Talk About ^]

On each lift upwards Jack and Chalk bond over similarities and differences, Jack gushes and gossips about circuitry and technology and all the things her parent Joey made and taught her, as Chalk (tries her best) to keep up and listen to everything Jack has to share with her, and Chalk shares with Jack all the things she's crafted and made, about all the different metals and materials she works with and all their unique properties, as Jack hangs onto every word that comes out of this shy shark's mouth.. though Jack can't help sense hesitation in her voice when getting too deep into what she's created in the past. After all the adventures up the tree, and Still no information on Joey, they finally reach the final major branch of the Tree of Old Solomon, right before it trails off into the clouds, supposedly where 'The Guy Upstairs' resides. Finally getting a moment to catch their breath, Jack, Chalk, and Goldie, take a rest, sitting on an old bench Chalk made herself long ago, as they stare off into the ocean's horizon.

[drawing 11 - Peace and Quiet]

Chalk thanks Jack for the little adventure they've had today, she's spent so long cooped up in her forge that the very thought of leaving overwhelmed her, frightened her, being trapped in her own home by their own thoughts, but being with Jack, it's all seemed so easy, all her anxieties seemed to melt away, and together, they've both climbed to the highest point of this giant tree! Somewhere Chalk hasn't been in a long time. Jack thanks Chalk for helping her out, to say she's enjoyed being around Chalk is an Immense Understatement.

After a comfortable silence in each other's company, Chalk admits she doesn't actually know what's going to lie above the clouds, or who, or What, 'The Guy Upstairs' is, so, Chalk decides now is a better time than any to get some things off her chest, and tell Jack about her past, and why she became so reclusive in the first place. Jack tells her that she doesn't need to go into it if it's too uncomfortable, but Chalk says it's about time she told Someone.

Chalk explains that, like she said before, she's crafted many ancient pieces of machinery throughout Magic Land, often on an absurd scale. the very Sun and the Moons orbit Planet-Magic-Land with encouraging help from enormous cogs and gears crafted by Chalk, the seas move and churn and form waves thanks to the many fans and pumps created by Chalk deep underwater, and she would often do all this from the comfort of her forge in a world separate from all others, in a place called Haven-Home. There, she forged the armour worn by the legendary Gracie the War Monger, she made all the gardening tools for Daffodil the Gardener, and even all the cooking utensils and pots and pans for Pillow the Chef, but when it came to Zeus, (self proclaimed) ruler of Haven-Home, he had other plans.

After witnessing the destruction that her own Mentor.. and Grandfather, had unleashed upon thousands of worlds with the weapons he had forged long long ago, Chalk had, and still has, a strict "no weapons" policy when it comes to her craft, so when Zeus came along and tricked her with a project she could not resist, fooling her into believing she was creating something that could benefit the land, only to discover she had been tricked into creating The Unkillable Warrior, a War Machine specifically designed to wield the very weapons her mentor had created, well, needless to say she was gutted and felt completely betrayed, and so out of shame and defeat, she packed her things, left Haven-Home, and went into self-exile on the island of the Tree of Old Solomon, and although at first it helped to build the homes for the residents of the island and create and maintain the lifts, it didn't take long for the self doubt and shame from Zeus' trick to creep up on her, and so, over time she became more and more reclusive, until finally reaching a point where she'd never leave her forge..

[drawing 12 - betrayal]

Jack gives her a hug.

She tells Chalk about how good people can be tricked in the worst ways, and even mentions Joey's (seemingly irrelevant) VHS story, about how they had once been tricked into building a Power Source for a literal Machine of War, but despite this incident, Joey has pushed onwards and has made so much more to benefit monsterkind, and, Jack points out, so has Chalk. Jack then fangirls for a Good Solid Couple Of Minutes about how Chalk has literally built machines that QUITE LITERALLY HELP MOVE THE PLANETS AND THE SEAS!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?

After the somewhat Overwhelming positivity from Jack, Chalk thanks her yet again, and promises she'll continue to march onwards to better things, to help others, but more importantly, to also help herself. The two hug and share a tender moment, before preparing for the clouds just above. Chalk, with tools and materials from her handy Secret Chest Compartment, along with New Technological Knowhow from Jack, make one final lift together, to (hopefully) get some answers about Joey up above.

It doesn't take the two long to complete the new lift, all sparkly and spangly and powered by love (and gears and stuff) and, with Goldie, the three take the lift up into the clouds.

On their journey upwards through thick fog and clouds, they briefly reach a clearing in the sky, a sea of cloud below and above them, a calm blue sky in-between, with the occasional branch piercing through. The moment of peace is.. interrupted, by an individual sitting idly on one of the branches, feet dangling, holding a sign pointed upwards, with the words "BOSS TIME" written across their chest. Jack and Chalk meet Mx. Boss, a motivational speaker to give some words of wisdom for the Boss Fight to come.

[drawing 13 - Mx. Boss]

Mx. Boss - "...Hey there Kiddos, it's me, ya girl Mx. Boss! Me? Well I'm a Lover not a Fighter, so you'll be seeing me cheering you on before the Big Fights :) Good Luck ya lovebirds <3 yep. dat's all I got for this one today. bye."

...

ok. well. thank you!

Jack and Chalk say their thanks, before heading into the clouds above, to The Guy Upstairs...

Jack, Chalk, and Goldie, find themselves at the very tippy top! A field of endless cloud, firm enough to stand on, rolling seemingly into forever, as spirals and spikes of soft cloud decorate the landscape. The main attraction that catches Jack and Chalk's eyes however, is what appears to be the tip of the Tree itself. There is a Large Skull on it. He is wearing a Crown.. and a false moustache. This IS The Guy Upstairs. The Guy Upstairs IS the tree himself! Jack and Chalk (and Goldie) find themselves stood before the man himself..

Old Solomon Gravypot; Grand King of..

...

whatever the island the tree is on is called

[drawing 14 - Old Solomon Gravypot]

The twisty-turny trunk of the tree housing his head bends down to examine these three, who have climbed up his body, solving side quests and helping the folks of his land. You would think most people would be grateful. Unfortunately, to put it brief, Old Solomon Gravypot..

umm, how do I put this..

Sucks Massive Cuss

Before Jack, Chalk, or even Goldie, can get a single word or even breath out of their mouths, the man bellows out an alarmingly loud monologue.

Old Solomon Gravypot -

"WELL LOOKIE WHO IT IS! YOU COME CRAWLING BACK EHHH?!?!? YOU THINK YOU CAN CRAWL UP MY BODY AND SOLVE PEOPLE'S PROBLEMS

HMMMMMM??!?!?!!?1/??1

YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE I SCARRED YOUR FACE, TRAPPED YOUR PARENTS IN THE FOREVER CUBE, SUNK THE GREAT WHEREVER WAY, SPIT IN YOUR DOG'S DINNER, COUGHED IN YOUR CAT'S COFFEE, READ THAT CRACKER JOKE OUT LOUD ABOUT THE ELEPHANT'S SWIMMING TRUNKS

YEAH YOU KNOW THE ONE

READ THE ALPHABET BACKWARDS AT YOUR GRADUATION, SANG THE NUMBERS FORWARD AT YOUR PET'S BIRTHDAY, VAPORISED KING CONKER, DESTROYED THE CASTLE OF ANXRAX AT THE GREAT BATTLE AT WHICH WE MET FEARSOME BLADES AND FOUGHT AND ALL THAT

YOU THINK THAT GIVES YOU PERMISSION TO DO STUFF??!!!?

WHY I OUGHTA! BACK IN MY DAY! TASTE THY HALLOWED BLADE! YOU'LL NOT KNOW PEACE AS LONG AS I MAY LIVE, HAVE AT THEE, HAVE AT SOME, HAVE AT-

what wait a minute."

The, quite frankly terrifying, king creaks over and actually observes the three guests (his eyesight isn't very good)

Old Solomon Gravypot - "...oh I thought you were someone else.

WELL YOU'VE STILL BEEN CLIMBING UP ME AND SOLVING PROBLEMS AND QUESTS AND STUFF, AND IF THERE'S ONE THING I HATE IT'S STUFF!! AND THINGS!!! SO

uuuhh.

... I ran out of threats..

DIE.

yeh that works lol."

without getting a single word in, Jack and Chalk and Goldie are met with Old Solomon Gravypot's HyperMegaUltraWoweyZoweyDeathBeam ...™

In a Fluster and a Big Panic, Chalk scrambles to grab something, anything, from her handy Secret Chest Compartment, and after grabbing some flint, some lint, and some mints (she was wondering where she left those) the first sturdy, solid, hefty item she grabs that Jack and Chalk use as a shield is,

the Typewriter.

[drawing 15 - the Typewriter (in case you forgor what it look like) ]

The King's, uhh.. Lazer

you know what it's called I'm not colouring all that text again

collides with the typewriter, and there's an almighty clash of noise and colour and stuff, and things!

Old Solomon Gravypot -

"WHAT?!? THE SACRED ITEM!!! YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BRING THAT HERE HOW DID YOU OH NO I CAN'T STOP THE HYPERMEGAULTRAWO-

there's a blinding light and everything goes white.

[!-TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES PLEASE STAND BY-!]

...

Jack, Chalk and Goldie awaken somewhere new entirely, and it.. Kinda Sucks. There's nothing around but hastily taped and stapled together cardboard, the "hills" around them are clearly piles of cardboard boxes with green sheets thrown over them, the floor is a dull, plain, slightly damp open "field" of cardboard, with the word "GRAS S" written in huge letters across it with a big marker. The marker is still on the ground, lid left off. The sky is a dull white and the faint noise of radio static fills the otherwise empty silence.

Before Jack and Chalk (and Goldie) can get a better look of their surroundings (not that there's anything worth looking at) there's a rumble, and a large figure emerges from behind a cardboard cutout of a.. shape. His name is Nelson. He is made of cardboard and sponge. Nelson is a large fellow and looms over the trio. As he rests his cardboard hands on the.. shape he's behind, his lower half hidden behind it, he leans in to get a better look.

[drawing 16 - Nelson (and his.. domain.) ]

Nelson - "Well Look WHo i' is.. if it isn't the Two that

BROKE THE STORY.

well? why ya 'ere then? bit early to be lookin' for the Secret Ending eh?"

Jack and Chalk aren't sure how to respond to literally any of this. The last few minutes have been a rollercoaster of adrenaline and anxiety. At least they're not getting completely screamed at by a Giant Skull.

Nelson - "I mean... I appreciate ya getting me my Typewriter back, but…"

Nelson reaches behind the.. shape he's behind and lifts up a table, before slamming it down between himself and Jack and Chalk (and Goldie) The Typewriter sits on the table, blackened and charred and Not In The Best Of Shape.

Nelson - "…did ya really haff to DESTROY THE DANG THING?? …sigh"

he throws the table, and the typewriter off to the side with little care as it smashes into one of the... 'hills'

Nelson - "Ohhh It's Fine, you two didn't know what you were doin'..."

this is Very True.

Finally being able to get a word in, Chalk asks Where they are exactly. Nelson says they find themselves on the Plain of Higher Existence, Chalk asks 'How High' and Nelson answers "Well, if ya imagine a treehouse.. a bit 'igher than that!" this is a little Too high for Chalk's low key fear of heights, but she thinks she'll get by, especially with Jack by her side.

Jack suddenly remembers why they've done all they've done! Why they came all this way! Joey!! "Where's Joey??" Jack yells out, though the past few minutes of adrenaline turning it more into a war cry than a question.

Jack -

"WHERE'S JOEY"

see? told you

Nelson - "Hm? HUH?? JOEY?? Ya lookin' for a Joey?!?

OH!

Ya must be lil' Jackie!! Joey's kid!! They've not shuddup 'bout you since they've been 'ere, even showed me ya babey pics!! but I 'ain't gonna judge! hoho!"

[drawing 17 - Jack's babby pics]

Jack - "hey!! Narrator!!! Don't show those!!"

hoho oh I'm sorry Jack! oh I can't resist sharing, they're just So Cute!

Chalk - "they have a point Jack .. I think baby Jack is Very cute.."

Jack - "...well if you think so then it's ok..

! wait! Joey's HERE?!?"

As if on cue, a familiar face (at least to Jack) emerges from behind a door Jack nor Chalk had noticed before (Goldie noticed but she didn't want to brag)

Wiping their hands on a filthy cloth and covered in grease and stains, it's none other than Joey! Jack's parent! One and Only, One Of A Kind, etcetera.

[drawing 18 - Joey!!! covered in grease, followed by a hug from Jack :-] and a leg nudge from Goldie too]

Joey apologises first and foremost for ever scaring their little Jackie in the first place, and explains the situation quite plainly. You see, every few months or so, Nelson's old boiler starts acting up, and for a long time now, Joey, an old friend of Nelson, has always come to fix the boiler, and have a bit of a catch up with their old friend too. Joey meant to stay at home for their Birthday today (after all, they've always shared their special day with Jack at home) but on this particular day Nelson just had the worse bit of luck with his boiler, AND a (few) massive leak(s), and needed Joey's help asap! Joey meant to explain all this on the VHS, but, well, we saw how that went.

OHH, so that's why this place is so damp, because of the leaks!

Nelson - "Oh no, it's just like that 'ere"

oh, gross

Nelson - "yeah :-| "

But, hang on! Jack and Chalk ponder, if they had to "Break The Story" , seemingly shattering reality to get here, then how did Joey get up here?

Joey says they took the stairs. Joey does not elaborate.

...ok

And so with Joey found, there's only really one thing left to do.

And so with the help of Jack, (and after introductions between Chalk and Joey are made) with Chalk's help too, together they manage to finally fix Nelson's pesky leaks and boiler :) (or until things inevitably break again in a month or so)

[drawing 19 - fixing plumbing and a boiler (sure why not I'm sure you want to see a drawing of that) ]

Jack asks Chalk that, now that Joey is found and now that Chalk is getting used to going outside again, if they'd maybe like to spend a little more time together? Chalk thinks about her forge, the place she's been trapped in for a huge portion of her life, by her own hand, and Chalk seems keen on heading into a whole new world before her, and asks if there'd be somewhere, say, near Claptrap City where she could set up shop? Joey says they're sure they'll be able to find something, and Nelson reassures Chalk that her forge will still be here whenever she wants to pay a visit, after all, not just anyone can keep those lifts in shape, and Chalk says she'd be happy to keep things in check again :)

And so, finally, Jack, Chalk, Joey and trusty Goldie, set sail back home in Jack's wonderful boat (still a bathtub), to head back home and celebrate the rest of Joey's birthday! the residents of the Tree of Old Solomon wave goodbye, as they look forward to their next return.. and Jack and Chalk begin officially dating :)

Nelson also can't seem to find his Typewriter, but that's okay, was pretty busted anyways..

The End :-]

Thank You SO MUCH For Reading; The Prologue (Part II)

here is a song :]

More Lore (Coming Soon!)

Tune in Next Time, in; The Prologue (Part III) :-0 (I know right)

#The Movie #This Is The Movie

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4getfulimaginator2022 · 2 years

Text

For Eternity, part 2/3

CS Fairytale!AU with Dark!Hook and Princess!Emma. It all starts with a feisty princess, her thirst for adventure, and a mysterious enchanter. The day Princess Emma comes of age, she asks to go on a daring quest like her ancestors before her, but she never expected to accept a dark challenge that tests her endurance. Based on a fairy tale I love, "Petronella" by Jay Williams.

For Eternity on AO3 | For Eternity on FF.net

Part 1 |

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Part 2: The Reckoning

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Her imagination had envisioned many possibilities of what the abode of an evil enchanter would look like, but none prepared her for the quaint, ivy-covered cottage lying at the bottom of the hill.

Rumplestiltskin was long gone, claiming that his presence would be immediately recognized by Hook if he even set one toe near his territory. Men and their egos, Emma mused before stepping through the ticklish strands of the weeping willow tree she had been standing under. The last Dark One was clearly afraid of his rival, and his advice during their joint trek down the path was still resonating in her head.

Appearances can be very deceptive, so keep in mind our plan. Never forget what you have come to do, or Hook's darkness will devour you.

But where was the darkness, when there was only the brightest light here?

As she trudged between thickly intertwined trees, shrubs, and rocks, Emma recalled the tingling feeling that had raced through her body when she had crossed the invisible barrier. There was no sign of any inhabitants for miles around, the wilderness untouched by the outside world. However, the moment her feet had stepped daintily through a clustered ring of forget-me-nots, a fierce wind had whipped across her face, rustling her skirt and entangling her hair. But when she looked up an instant later, the branches were completely still, the area motionless.

Inside was the opposite: her pulse had quickened and her entire being felt warmth, banishing her chills and her anxiety. Her only other comfort was that time supposedly stood still here: when she did leave for home (she wasn't even going to think of another outcome), it would be as if she had disappeared for only three days. Apparently, magic worked in threes, but she still didn't know what to expect.

Of everything she was anticipating and dreading, the continuous silence surrounding her was highly disturbing. There was no sound of wildlife at all ― no birds chirping, no bees buzzing during their search for pollen, no forest animals in sight. This new world she had entered was alive, but it had the air of death. Or maybe she was just being too pessimistic. Damn Rumplestiltskin for talking her into this insanity...

"What are you doing here?"

The new heat that rushed through her veins was certainly expected, but the frigid state of her limbs was not. The weight of her quest, of the deal she needed to fulfill, came crashing hard onto her shoulders, and the rich, melodious voice echoing through her ears was a deadly siren come to haunt her senses, to drag her down to task and lure her to failure. Physically, it was distinctly masculine, which brought to mind one question: Hook or Neal?

"Lass, I'd suggest that if you want to leave from here alive, it's in your best interests to answer the bloody question," he commanded harshly.

She couldn't breathe. She was wrong ― this was all wrong. She wasn't the one meant to do this ― that imp had been mistaken. Greatly mistaken. That, or his seer skills were extremely rusty.

Slowly turning around, Emma faced her interrogator with as much resolve and courage as she could muster. God help her if she said something foolish now...

When air finally met her lungs, it immediately escaped her mouth in the form of a gasp. If the cozy cottage was any indication of the sheer contrast between her presumptions and reality, she surely had not visualized Hook correctly either.

In her mind's eye, the pirate captain was a cringing, decrepit nincompoop who had been involved with the wrong woman and was paying with beyond a lifetime of punishment for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sympathy for his fate was present, but it was so petulant and small in comparison to the countless crimes Rumplestiltskin had enumerated against the man that she didn't know what to believe.

Obviously, the Dark One's wife had had good taste and a capacity for malice.

To say that the man ― monster? ― in front of her was attractive was a painful understatement. With acutely toned features and a gaze as overwhelming as the ocean waves, Hook's physique was yet another point in fact that decried whatever Emma had imagined. He was a true diamond in the rough, looking like a finely carved statue awakened to be a living masterpiece ― with the exception of his hook for a left hand, of course. Magic couldn't change everything, it seemed.

Then the pirate's lips were stretched by a prominent smirk, allowing her to gain hold of her composure again. He knew that she was staring and seemed to savor it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted from one foot to the other self-consciously. "I'd like to work for you," she began, pausing when his sinister laughter caused ripples of shame and ridicule to reach her.

"Do you know who I am, love?" he eventually retorted.

Emma chewed her bottom lip worriedly ― this was the tricky part, to not reveal how much she knew about him. "You're the enchanter who lives in these woods."

He clicked his tongue in amusement. "If you are aware of that, why would you pose such a request?" His eyes darkened. "Unless there was something you...wanted from me in exchange?"

Strengthening her stance, she glared at him defiantly. "I'm here to make a deal with you."

His ears perked up from interest, his eyebrows raised as well. "What kind of deal, darling?" he replied in a seductive tone, glancing at her form pointedly.

Emma rolled her eyes, mentally rebuking herself for wearing the curvaceous dress ― though she had a feeling her clothing actually didn't make any difference. Cursed or not, the pirate was not gone from Hook in any manner.

Slowly, she dared to come closer, noting his elegant, tailored attire and clean shaven face ― well, he certainly didn't look like he had been described, daring leather, eyeliner, and trimmed stubble out of sight. More of a prince than a pirate, enchanting rather than an enchanter. But he had not aged a day, proving that what Rumplestiltskin had noted about the lack of time was absolutely true. Hook appeared to be young ― little more than ten years her senior ― but then again...his age showed, in more ways than one. He looked innocent, boyish even...but the darkness was still there, in his eyes.

"Three tests," she stated clearly, willing herself to be firm, "in exchange for three rewards. Magical rewards."

"Ah, so that's your game, is it?" he drawled, still scrutinizing her. "You do know that you have to actually pass each test to receive the rewards, right?"

He was treating her like she was an ignorant child, and she didn't like it. "I was told," she said through gritted teeth, "that you enjoy a challenge ― but I do understand if you're unwilling or too afraid―"

In mere seconds his hook was by her neck, his mouth too close to her skin. As handsome as he was, Emma was terrified of the fire burning in Hook's eyes, the unseen power in his movements.

"For starters, lass," he hissed icily, "you would do well not to taunt me. A man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets, and no one can accuse me of being a coward." He roughly gripped her jaw with his hand. "The imbeciles who do find out very quickly what happens to those who try my patience. Savvy?"

She nodded carefully, letting out a sigh of relief when he stepped back. He was still too near her body for comfort, but she could handle him at this distance. Do not let him find out you have magic, or you will surely die.

Biting her tongue, she watched as he eyed her expression, searching for truth. She stared back at him just as fiercely, pursing her lips and lifting her chin defiantly. This was her adventure and she was going to live through it, and no man nicknamed Captain Hook was going to stop her.

All she could see was blue and green until he was pacing some distance away, deep in thought. "If I agree," he offered abruptly, swaggering towards her, "I will have certain...conditions."

"Conditions?"

A wicked grin was now on his lips. "Indeed. You see, my dear innocent," he whispered huskily into her ear, "I don't trust you. But your presence here intrigues me, especially the fact that you managed to find me in the first place. Someone must have informed you of my whereabouts, which means you have a definite purpose. I want to discover what that really is ― and in the meantime, you can entertain me by being my guest." His tongue trilled the word as if it were both delicious and sinful, which triggered rapid unease in Emma.

This poor beginning did not bode a good ending.

"What's your name, lass?"

She blinked, observing how he strode forward, his boots firmly chafing the dust.

"Emma. Emma Swan."

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She should have known from the moment she entered Hook's house that this would be no ordinary quest. The mariner décor was outlandish, the environment too homey to be credible. Its residents were another story. Light and dark, good and evil. Opposites lived in pairs, apparently.

And a part of one of those pairs was the sandy-haired man who claimed to be Neal.

Bae didn't have that much of Rumplestiltskin or Milah in him. In fact, he had a look all his own, that of a wanderer and a refugee, someone who couldn't wipe away the misery of his past memories even if he wanted to. However, the aura of despondence was belied by the wide grin on his face when he mock saluted Hook as they were heading inside.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he hummed happily, ignoring Emma completely on his way out into the sunshine.

When Hook closed the door behind him, she began to question what she was doing here. The son of the Dark One was content in his life, like she had pointed out before. There was no need to do this...no, she could still back out now―

"Well, Swan?" Hook beckoned, his half-smile eerie. "Coming or going?"

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A dark haired woman with an unpleasant face, her outward beauty marred by her hatred for her cowardly husband. A roguish pirate sailing across the sea, passionate about his ship and his thirst for adventure. A little boy crying for his mother in the middle of the night...

"You took away my love, my happiness..."

A flash of red and then a brief crumbling as the woman's heart is literally crushed into dust, the pirate screaming as his hand is severed from his left arm. A cackle that could only belong to the Dark One before all vanishes, replaced by more memories...

Warm kisses, loud guilt, horrible desire. Then the burning begins, a torturous cycle of damning regrets and pain.

She squirms, whimpering. It is too much...

Then she sees two stunning blue eyes, a beautiful face that is twisted in agony as his hand reaches for her. He is pleading with her, begging her for something she cannot hear. She cannot understand why he leans forward, why his lips brush against hers with such longing that she is left breathless. Then his countenance transforms into a beast-like mask, a grotesque creation that conjures all her old nightmares of monsters come to ravage her. She is repulsed and frightened ― but by what she cannot see, not by the inevitable.

"Milah..." He is weeping now and the image is fading into white and black and red...

A dark figure clambers into her bedroom and begins to disrobe her as well as himself, her desperate pleas falling on deaf ears as he drags her towards him and runs his hands along her skin, his mouth descending on hers...

And then she's running through Hook's house, already familiar as she searches for what she knows not. When she realizes she's alone, she rushes to the edge of the woods, shouting for her parents.

She cannot get out. The barrier won't let her go free. Every time she pushes, it pulls.

Her heart restricts and clenches violently at her mind's conclusion: she is forced to stay here for the rest of eternity.

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Nearly jumping out of her bed, her bare feet hit the floor as she raced to the door of her room, throwing it open. She didn't care what she agreed to. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Barely registering that she was wearing a thin slip of a nightgown, that she was racing through cursed land under Captain Hook's inspection, and that she had promised Rumplestiltskin that she would not run away, Emma practically streaked along the same path she had taken in the daylight, the one that would bring her home.

When she attempted to cross the same boundary of flowers, all encased by moonlight, her body felt like it was being slammed against an invisible wall, the very place she had walked along this afternoon now unapproachable.

She couldn't get out ― just like in her dream. And now her life was a veritable, very real nightmare.

Reason turned into frenzy, her fists seemingly pounding on air as she sunk to the ground, tears of anger and fear rolling down her cheeks. Rumplestiltskin had failed to note that leaving was just as difficult as entering ― and worst of all, her parents wouldn't even set out to look for her, because her absence was always be the duration of three days no matter how much time she spent here. They wouldn't have any idea that their only daughter was imprisoned in a cursed existence only several miles from the castle grounds.

Emma staggered backwards, rolling over the ground on her side as anxiety took control. Some savior she was, breaking down at the first obstacle. Where was her strength, her determination? Why did she feel so drained, like every intrinsic part of her was slipping away? How the heck was she going to complete her quest?

Her erratic breathing had quieted, her sobs hushed into softened crying. It was at times like these, when she felt the most helpless, her vulnerability exposed like a gaping wound, that she wanted her mother...

Soft arms encircling her as she was rocked to sleep, Snow's beautiful voice coaxing the night's demons to depart like she had done since Emma was a baby. Her father's gentleness and his masterly storytelling as he read by the light of single candle from the magical book that had belonged to their family for generations. All of her childhood memories were precious beyond measure, but why she was recalling them during this moment in time was a mystery.

Her eyes fluttering closed while whispers of sleep overcame her, she barely sensed two strong arms wrapping themselves around her, lifting her up and settling her limbs carefully until she was flying, carried away by a strange guardian angel into the safety of warmth and walls...

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Her face was most certainly a deep shade of pink when she approached Hook the next morning. Having woken up comfortable and covered up to her neck in her new bed, Emma had wondered if everything from last night was a twisted fantasy.

"Um..." She cleared her throat uneasily. "I need...your help."

"Oh?" Hook was again impeccably dressed, his dark blue jacket contrasting nicely with the ruffled white shirt underneath, a red and black scarf tied around his neck. Most discernible were the black leather pants he sported, a definite connection to his days as a pirate in addition to his unusual black boots.

Drawing the edges of her bathrobe closer, she could only blush and peer at the floor.

"What you are currently exhibiting is not 'appropriate'?"

She only glowered at him in reply.

A ghost of a mischievous smirk appeared before he waved his hand, purplish crimson smoke enveloping her skin until she felt the rustle of fabric against it. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized what she was wearing.

It was either a figment of an overactive imagination or the most welcome vision she had ever seen. Every garment was to her taste, from the demurely feminine boots on her feet to the daring red corset hiding an incredibly soft black silk shirt, its long sleeves extending beyond her wrists in an exquisitely pleasing, medieval fashion. Best of all, no dress was present, fitting breeches in its place.

She shyly glanced up at him, not surprised to have caught him appraising his work more acutely than she. "How...how did you know?"

He raised a brow nonchalantly, a gesture that made him look very boyish indeed. "You're something of an open book, Swan ― and I'm always a gentleman." A guarded half-smile later, he uttered absently, "Besides, I like the view, and you match the furnishments quite nicely."

With a loud scoff, Emma turned out of the dining room on her heel, exasperated at how the smallest sliver of caring had been snuffed out by his cold, impersonal remark. She had had a feeling that getting along with a more than three-hundred-year-old caretaker ― and a magical one, at that ― would be worrisome, but now that premonition was two-fold, with an oncoming presumption that this quest was far from easy, dragons or not. If she didn't know what she was fighting, how could she hope to win?

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The plan of action was very straightforward, really: take the tests, get the rewards, and get the hell out with Bae intact. And there were already complications with all three steps.

Hook was very reluctant to do anything, barely interacting with her as life went on in seclusion, as tiring and enticing as Neverland itself. How ironic, that the very man who had made that forbidding place infamous was now subjected to a far inferior version of it. Forever. Still, he didn't have to be procrastinating so evidently, a fact that was infuriating Emma every extra day she had to spend here. By sunlight, Hook was taciturn and brooding, delivering enigmatic comments; by night, he vanished, nowhere to be seen throughout the cottage.

It wasn't as if she was complaining about the accommodations. Her room ― well, the room Hook had given her ― was as lavish as her own back home, but not to the point of gaudiness. On the contrary, the designs were artful and classy, much like the rest of the interior. As for mealtime and bath time, both were unnecessary in a land where time did not exist, but Hook only gave her a meaningful leer before silently fulfilling her requests for a familiar routine that eased her burning nostalgia. Oddly enough, he gave her anything she asked for, without question or complaint...

No, the problem was that since she couldn't exactly prepare for whatever Hook was scheming, days and nights were filled with restless ennui, her limbs aching to run, her mind wanting to take flight. Nightmares plagued her sleep, blood-red and deepest black foreshadowing memories that were not hers, glimpses of unspeakable things making her blood simmer and her skin flush. Then she would awaken, her breathing ragged and uneven while her defenseless body regained some semblance of normalcy.

She would encounter those striking blue eyes on her way down to breakfast, following her every move as she went outside to find some consolation in the nature she loved so much. It was here, under trees and open sky, surrounded by kindly flowers and the beauty that can never replicated, that she found some measure of peace.

Lying back into the swaying grass, Emma pondered Neal's erratic behavior, the way he ignored her presence and acted as if she didn't exist, his attention directed to that ridiculous little garden he tended ceaselessly. It would be difficult to convince him to leave his "paradise" if he was unwilling ― she couldn't just tie him up and drag him out. Rumplestiltskin had said that all must be done voluntarily...he had specially noted that but had passed by that helpful minder that she couldn't make an exit in the first place.

The combination of her own magic and Hook's could possibly get her through the barrier, if the magical rewards she had to obtain were any indication. But what if she made a break for it and all failed? The consequences of that would be very dire indeed.

She was so absorbed in her endless speculation that she didn't noticed the soft nose grazing her arm. "Why, hello!" she grinned, tentatively reaching out to pet the soft brown rabbit who was shyly nosing her. Its eyes were fixated on her face, its whiskers shuddering slightly when she slowly pet its back, tenderly touching its long ears as well. This was the first animal she had seen since entering Hook's dominion. Hah, it was some dominion when there were only two inhabitants to rule over. Well, three ― one who would be dominated by none.

When the shade drifted and she was exposed to the sun, Emma threw away caution and gathered the friendly creature into her arms, cradling it by her bosom as she would a baby. It was too bad that she was an only child, that her parents couldn't have had another...a boy, perhaps, who would bring joy to their hearts and free Emma from her future duties as queen. A soft recollection of her mother and father embracing on their wedding anniversary caused her to sniffle, a stray tear falling down.

Staring up at her with large brown eyes, the rabbit nestled against her chest and Emma had the strangest urge to talk aloud. She would go mad if she didn't speak to someone soon ― and better it was to a charming forest inhabitant than those two oddities in the cottage, however handsome one of them was. Gradually, her tongue loosened and she was recalling her fondest childhood memories, happily lost in a bittersweet reverie. As long as she didn't forget what was good and right, the twisted evil here could not harm her.

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According to her calculations, it was after a week of relentless snuggling and careless monologue that the rabbit mysteriously disappeared, her sole companion taking away her sense of relief along with its comfort. True, he lived in the forest and belonged there...he wasn't a pet...but she still missed her bunny, faithful and true as he waited for her under the same tree every morning she had sought him out. She had even thought out a name for him ― Peter.

Hook must have broken out of his façade long enough to notice her crestfallen expression while he created dinner for her, because he dared to inquire about it. When she refused to answer, afraid that the pressure inside would snap, he drew nearer, almost until he was kneeling in front of her, with a look of concern so unsettling and foreign on his countenance that she flinched.

"Darling, tell me what's―"

"I'm not your darling." Her voice was a mere hiss, trying to lash out at him as cruelly as possible. She could feel the darkness latching onto her heart, digging into her soul. She wanted to hurt him, and she couldn't explain why. The tension was about to snap, her frustration pushing her to the edge.

He was obviously taken aback by her vicious response, but she didn't have to pretend to care about his reactions. "Do you think I care about your 'conditions,' that I don't question your motives for a second? To hell with that. You toy with me, like a cat does a mouse, pretending to be a person and then acting like a block of ice. You're playing at some game I don't understand, you're waiting for something inscrutable ― and I don't have the energy to be going along with this."

Leaving the room in a huff, she barely glanced back at his stunned face as she headed for the door. Tonight, she would be lulled into her dreams by starlight and moonlight.

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As she had suspected, no one came to bring her back. Instead, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a wide-eyed fawn at her side, its head resting between its front legs. Even during her dreams last night, she had steeled herself from forming any more attachments, from caring too much. But when the fawn warily raised itself up on wobbly legs, it bravely watched Emma's hand approach its head and then leaned into her caress.

She sighed as the fawn clambered over to her, nuzzling her neck. There was no doe in sight, so it appeared that the fawn was either an orphan or a figment of magic. When it licked her palm, Emma smiled to herself. Having another friend wouldn't be too bad in the midst of all this insanity.

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The same pattern repeated: the fawn followed in the prints of the rabbit after a week of acquaintance, leaving Emma heartbroken; Neal was entirely too happy-go-lucky, completely unresponsive; and Hook continued to avoid her at night and observe her during the day. Ever since her outburst, he would barely meet her gaze in the morning when she came for breakfast, shuffling off as soon as he had the chance. And then she was alone again, left to her own devices. Sometimes she'd explore the house; however, most of the time, when she wasn't reading or hiking outside, she'd ascend to her room and close the door, tracing shapes in the ceiling until she'd fall asleep, protected from dreaming when daylight shone down on her.

She pondered what Hook really did all day long ― though the sun and the moon were most likely an illusion fashioned by magic. Still, she tried to picture him alone ― standing by the window at sunrise, sitting in his chambers at sunset, reclining on the veranda which was never used, peeking through the grotto of trees arching over the backdoor. For all that Rumplestiltskin had said about the father-son love between Hook and Bae, "Neal" was in his own world; she had not witnessed any real conversation between him and Hook yet...

Compassion was hitting her hard, barely keeping any room for contemplation on the sins of the enchanter. Hook was cut off from the entire world, shackled to an existence which held nothing but sorrow. There wasn't a single living creature, even animal, to keep him company...except for the moment she had marched into his life.

If she remembered correctly, Captain Hook was once called Killian Jones, an intrepid adventurer who feared nothing and no one. The instant he had crossed the Dark One's path was his doom, and adulterer or not, he had not deserved to lose his hand for that. He had not deserved this ― an empty hell where no one cared, no one visited, no one saw him. With his powers, he could have all he desired ― all but what he truly wanted. He could not create a person. He could not create a friend, and he was unable to dispel the loneliness that was part of his curse.

Sadly, the one steadfast occurrence of her stay so far was the constant misery etched into Hook's features.

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Light to the day,

Darkness to the night,

Until True Love breaks your bonds,

You will suffer without respite.

She could hear the words recited over and over again like a worn tune. It was painful to listen to, to hear such pain vocalized, but the agonized cries increasing in volume were driving her curiosity, igniting it. Who was it?

She was walking toward a wall, white but shifting into a hue of midnight black. And at the bottom was the figure of a dark-haired little boy, his hands curled into fists which covered his eyes. He was weeping piteously, his screams piercing her ears like arrows.

When she was standing all but two feet in front of him, he peered up at her, tears outlining the curves of his cheeks. "What's wrong?" she whispered consolingly, kneeling down to wipe away the wetness from his face and gently ruffle his locks with her fingers.

He bit his bottom lip, squinting at his hands. "No one wants me. I'm all alone."

"What makes you think that?"

The child swallowed hard, his eyelashes fluttering. "Mama and Papa abandoned me, so why would anyone else want me?"

Her heart was bleeding inwardly at his words. "Well, what if I said I want you?" she offered with a warm smile, watching him frown in suspicion.

"Why would you want me? I'm...I'm...un-love-able."

"No, you're not," she laughed gently, opening her arms to him. Hesitating, he scrutinized her face closely before a small grin crossed his lips and he moved forward. Rocking him softly in her arms, she felt her wounded heart mend when he turned his head and kissed her on the cheek.

"Stay with me forever?" he murmured against her skin.

She nodded instinctively, embracing him tightly. "Yes. But do you want me?"

He smiled shyly. "I do. And I want to love you too."

When her eyelids obeyed and opened again, it was to see two bright, cerulean eyes staring right back at her, the color of his irises deftly interchanging between startling blue and deep brown. She was shocked and completely bewildered, but the adoring love that radiated from the little boy in her arms was overwhelming her, chasing away recognition.

She was at the tip of a quandary, but she didn't know how to dive in deeper, to unravel the maze.

As the colors faded and she slipped out of unconsciousness, the sure sign she was waking, a voice full of yearning kept echoing in her mind.

"Emma, love me...please, please love me..."

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"So...Neal," Emma started cautiously, "how long have you been with Hook?" Approaching the Dark One's son had been easy, but talking to him was difficult when he absolutely refused to carry on a decent conversation. In order to succeed at her quest, she had to take the initiative, not sit around and moon over dreams.

With an abrupt lift of his head, he was evidently surprised she had addressed him at all. "Why would you ask a question like that?"

She shrugged. "Just curious."

He scratched his scalp, pursing his lips. "Well, a long while, I guess. I met Hook in Neverland; we lived on the Jolly Roger for hundreds of years before returning to the Enchanted Forest ― I was just a boy then ― where we skulked about for ten years or so."

She sketched circles in the grass, glancing at Neal occasionally as he continued to hoe the dirt, oblivious to any consternation his answer could have elicited.

"And what about your parents? What about going home?"

His back was facing her now. "Here is home. I've been here for longer than I can remember."

Something about his reply was off ― it wasn't so much his words as it was his tone, the hesitation in his voice. She cleared her throat, changing tactics. "I'm shocked you have to weed your garden in the first place ― everything looks so...perfect."

He gave her a puzzled look before his eyes filled with sudden knowledge. "It's not," he mumbled, sounding irritated.

She hopped to her feet, leaning in. "Oh? And why is that? Don't you have anyone to care for you?"

"Why are you interrogating me?"

Bristling, she shouted back, "I'm not! Why are you being so defensive?"

Neal growled, raising his hand as if to swat at her. "How about a fair trade? You answer my questions, I'll answer yours."

"A question for a question, answer for an answer?" She pretended to mull over the idea. "Very well. What's yours?"

He grimaced. "Why are you here, really?"

Damn. Of course, that would be his first. Time for storytelling.

Putting on her most charming, winsome smile, Emma strolled by him. Hopefully all those novels she had read were correct about the art of seduction, or she was in trouble. "I'm searching for a prince, because I want to be a princess," she murmured in a low voice, hoping her lie would hold firm.

Neal laughed bitterly. "And instead, you stepped into the lair of an enchanter? Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but there are no princes here."

She cocked her head, licking her lips sensually. "Hmm...that's true...but I did find you, and though you're not much of a prince, you're the best I can do."

"Uh...thanks?" When her grin widened in mock appreciation, something flashed in his darkened gaze ― some dangerous, compelling emotion. It wasn't anger.

On seeing him drop the hoe and move toward her, Emma began to feel unusually frightened, more than she had been of Hook, initially. Maybe it was just her instincts speaking, but... Stepping away, she tried to confidently exit the garden, heading to the house as briskly as possible.

Even after she had shut the door, she could still sense Neal's eyes burning into her retreating form, incited by something unfamiliar. Nevertheless, though the question and answer session was over for now, she could guarantee one thing for certain: Neal would not be ignoring her anymore.

Judging from his expression, the vices of the world had just come out to play.

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It was worse than she had predicted, unfortunately. Neal was now pursuing her like a moth did a flame, trailing after her like a lost puppy. A kind of cute puppy, with hungry brown eyes and a salivating tongue. Suddenly, she was longing for Hook's cool demeanor, his indifference. And then she knew what she had to do.

During their usual routine of dinner, Emma didn't let Hook escape the room like he normally did, with downcast eyes and a stormy pout.

"Killian..." His entire figure stiffened at the sound of his true name.

"How do you know my name?" he spat out. When she didn't reply, he had her pinned to the wall so quickly that she didn't even have time to blink twice, that she forgot what she was going to ask him.

"How?" he demanded harshly, his hook pressing into the soft skin of her neck. Emma ordered herself not to squirm ― resistance would only make this more violent than it already was.

"I've heard the stories," she muttered after a moment of silence, his stony gaze never leaving her face.

"Oh, did you, now? Since you're so smart, do you know the whole bloody story, Emma? The parts that some people 'accidentally' omit?" His voice dropped to a pain-filled whisper. "How the Dark One refused to fight for Milah, how he betrayed his own son, how he took my hand and my love from me in one breath because of his cowardice?

"How I have nothing to live for but I am forced to go on with this? This damned...magic. I hate it ― I've always hated it... And to have it within me like a seething demon waiting to emerge..."

Vengeance thrived in the darkness, and it was consuming him rapidly, the captivating enchanter turning into a creature of the night before her very sight. She had to intervene ― to give him light when he was only seeing the dark. He was confusing and exasperating, generous and charming. She didn't know what to make of him. No, she didn't know him. And yet, she felt that she did ― that they had more in common than was foreseeable. He was...an enigma, one she wanted to solve. To understand.

Heart beating fiercely, blood racing, she shocked herself by doing the very thing she had promised herself she would never do, especially not with a man like Hook: she leaned in, touched his cheek, and gently kissed him.

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In retrospect, she still didn't know what had possessed her to do such a thing. She had ardently believed that a gesture of innocent affection would calm him down, that his hold on her would relax. It didn't. What had been a gentle brush of her lips against his was now a fiery, all-consuming kiss, one that was devouring her resolve to resist. His body was pressing on hers, his desirous response bewildering her further. He had never shown even the slightest interest―

Emma gasped as his hand and hook wandered, his mouth joining them. She was clinging desperately to his hair, stunned by the way her reluctance was shifting into pure want. He was doing this to her...his boldness was triggering her darkest wishes, encouraging her secret fantasies. Making her need him, as she had never needed anyone else. She started imagining how far he would go with this, if he would...

While the scenery around them changed and she faintly acknowledged that they must be in his bedroom, that he had transported them there, Emma scrambled to grasp at whatever of her reason remained under the influence of this new, blinding passion. She wasn't here to be with Hook in any kind of relationship ― no, she was here to free Neal, to complete her side of the deal, to conquer her quest. Not to be subdued by a breathtaking disaster of a man, who was staring at her with wanton hunger and a devilish smirk. A man wholly broken, beautiful, and mesmerizing, who had shared her first kiss.

As he turned to regard his regal bed, she realized what he truly wanted.

His breaths were haggard, his pupils dilated heavily. He was licking his swollen lips, his black shirt unbuttoned, his vest gone. Emma looked down to see her own blouse open fully, her undergarments peeking through temptingly. Had it truly progressed to that stage?

When Hook took off the disheveled shirt, revealing the muscular expanse of bare chest and shoulders underneath, she bit her bottom lip nervously, pivoting on the balls of her feet until her back was facing him. She was under his roof, under his power, so she could deny him nothing. But this...this she had to deny. Deny him...and herself.

"Killian..." she pleaded, hoping he would stop his advances.

Then he stood in front of her again, and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his nose nudging hers until he found her mouth a second time, his hand reaching up to push down the blouse to her waist and untie the laces of her corset. Every caress translated into a branding you are mine.

Her search for arguments ended when she found none, and in that insane moment, she was rational once more. She pushed him away, stumbling backwards.

He smoldered at her intently before lifting his hook apologetically. "I can transform it into a hand, if it bothers you ― it will only be a temporary illusion, of course, but a convincing one at that―"

"This has nothing to do with your hook." She forced herself to sound icy and dismissive, ignoring the look of hurt that crossed his face. "This, between you and me," she gestured, "cannot happen. Ever."

Hurt transformed into fury. "Why didn't you tell me that before you kissed me, Emma?" he snarled, his hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. His hook dissipated, a perfect hand replacing it. Too perfect.

"You bewitched me," she defended, to which he laughed mirthlessly in reply.

"Did I? Or perhaps you've figured out how magic works here?" He approached her slowly. "Perhaps you've heard more of my story than I give you credit for...the part where magic fused me together, took away my freedom. You see, love...the essence of darkness is literally living here, trapped in this void. Every being who steps through is subjected to its power, and by the time you have the will to run, you have no choice but to stay. Because by then, darkness is in your blood, your mind, your heart...and you need light in all three in order to leave. Which is why even I cannot cross over into the outer world where time exists. My heart is too black, too stained. I don't command the magic ― I obey it."

His false hand brazenly cupped her breast through the fabric of her shift, and she bit back a moan. "Why not just give in, darling? You have nothing to lose ― and everything to gain. I promise that I will please you, in every way. We can survive this hell together: I will give you whatever you desire, myself included, and in exchange, you will yield to me. Abandon this foolish quest... Instead, do what you want to do ― here, with me."

His right hand was mimicking the actions of the other, arousing a fire in the recesses of Emma's stomach. He was seducing her, his husky voice making her muscles tense in anticipation. If she didn't do something ― anything ― she would end up where he wanted her: in his bed.

Tears moistened her flushed cheeks, and she struggled to think of the best memories she had. Her parents teaching her how to ride a horse for the first time. A mother swan and her cygnets rising from the lake in the palace gardens, only to pace in front of her ― the little ones gathering about her feet, while she fed the mother thick pieces of rich brown bread. The love she had always had from her mother and father, from her friends, from her subjects, all giving her strength and comfort and understanding. Not this...not this incomprehensible, shameful lust.

When she opened her eyes, Killian was gazing at her in awe, a steady glow reflecting from his skin. Then she looked downward. No...she was literally glowing, from the inside out. Light was leaking out from the magic she would always carry inside her beating heart. No matter what darkness blocked her path, her love couldn't die. It would always belong to her.

Love isn't weakness ― it's strength...

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That night, Emma's nightmares were worse than ever before, a never-ending line of emotions that jabbed at every part of her conscience.

Killian's wounded expression when she immediately ran from him after her luminescent display.

Neal's hidden past, his mixed feelings about what he had abandoned, consciously or not.

Her own longing to be home, away from these newfound feelings that Hook had aroused in her.

For the first time in her life, Emma screamed in her sleep, wishing she had never made a deal with Rumplestiltskin. No quest was worth this: she would have to choose between what she ought to do and what she wanted, a simple dilemma before but a different one now. She had felt so complete in his arms, having recognized that through the haze of whatever sinister spell had been cast in that instant.

And now she still had three tests to endure, all under Killian's inspection, though she personally believed that last night had been the unspoken first.

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Part 3

This story was first posted and completed in 2013. The song "Eternity" by Dreams Come True inspired the title for this story - it really is quite lovely. This is definitely my most "fairytale" fic that I've written, and I'm quite proud of how it turned out. Please reblog/comment if you can!

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs ff au #cs fic #4getfulimaginator #cs fanart #for eternity

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