#the uh the plant worries are separate from the song choice. the plant thing just happened to occur to me right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dyke420-69 · 4 years

Text

Cinder AU

Summary: Logan is a well known mechanic throughout Ladonia. Sadly, he's a cyborg and, where prejudices are common, he's stuck with a terrible stepmother and sister. At least he has Talyn, the android with a faulty chip!

The screws of Logan's foot have rusted, the thread wore down to a smooth cylinder. His hand ached from fighting the nails as he struggled to loosen it. By the time he was able to be free from the damn thing, he pulled it out with his prosthetic steel hand and noticed the hairline threads had been stripped clean.

Tossing the screwdriver onto the small table, Logan grabbed his heel and ripped the foot off. A spark came from his hands and he jerked, almost pulling out the wires that still barely attached his foot to him.

He fell back into his chair, with a relieved sigh. A freedom came from letting go of that foot. He hated that foot for 4 years, now, he swore to never put it on again. He wished Talyn would be back soon with the new one.

Logan was the only full service mechanic in Ladonia weekly market. His booth only hinted at his profession from the boxes of android parts crowding the wall. The booth was shady, hidden between the thrift booth, filled with old clothes and electronics, and a bar, with alcohol always hinting at the air surrounding it. They frequently complained about the scent of oil and rust in the air but even though the scent of parties from the bakery across from it covered the scent. He knew it was just because they didn't like him.

An old table separated Logan from the shoppers as they passed by. The place was filled with shoppers and hawkers, children, and noise. The sound of bargaining from the robotic shop, even though it was still too big of a price. The hum of hover cars and hopeless voices giving them their receipts as they continued to buy frivolous things. The netscreens that covered everywhere and would never shut up with advertisements, news reports, and gossip.

Logan's auditory interface was able to dull the noise to a white noise but today a melody lingered over the rest that he couldn't stop from hearing. A ring of small children were standing in the middle of the shops, singing -"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"- and then laughed as they fell down onto the pavement, forcing the others to as well.

A small grin attempted to come to Logan's lips. Not so much at the song, it made him creeped out, the song about a phantom song about pestilence and death that gained popularity in the last decade. But he did love the glares as shoppers tripped over the pile of children. The inconvenience of having to step over the children irritated the shoppers and Logan adored them for it.

"Rosa? Rosa!"

Logan amusement faded. He found Helen Smith, the baker, pushing through the crowd, covered in flour. She grabbed the little girls arm, "Rosa, I told you not to play so close to that android-"

Helen locked eyes with Logan, pursed her lips, and pulled on her daughter's arms. The girl whined, attempting to pull her arm out her mother's grip to cross them, then huffing when she couldn't. Logan glared at their back, rolling his eyes. The remaining children left, going back into the swarm of noise, taking their cheerfulness with them.

"For fucks sake, wires aren't contagious. Stop acting like it," he grumbled to empty air.

He stretched, his spine popping in several places. He ran a dirty hand through his hair, attempting to comb the curls, then grabbed his old work gloves. Logan covered his steel hand first, and while his hands were already beginning to sweat, he was already more comfortable with his glove hiding his less… humanly parts. He stretched his hand, working out the cramp that had formed the base of her thumb from working on his foot, and swept his gaze over the market. He spotted many white faced androids but none were Talyn.

Sighing, Logan bent under the table to look through his toolbox. After digging through his mess of wrenches, wires, and screwdrivers, he found the fuse puller that had been long since buried at the bottom. One by one, he disconnected the wires that still barely attached his foot to his ankle. He couldn't feel.them through the thickness of his gloves, but his retina scan was helpfully telling him he was losing a limb.

With one last yank of a wire, his foot dropped to the floor.

The feeling of freedom was instant. For once, he truly liked him and had very little worries.

He shoved the wires to make room for the foot, setting it upside a shrine to letting go of the past among the numerous lug nuts and screws she had scattered through the table, before grabbing an old rag and cleaning the grime from his ankle.

THUD.

Logan jumped, bumping his head onto the underside of the table. He rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair, his glare first landing on the lifeless droid just sat on his table and then to the man behind it. His eyes widened at the surprised chocolate colored eyes and brown hair almost every girl in the country, and probably others as well, has probably drooled over a thousand times.

His irritation faded.

His own shock was also quickly extinguished, melting into an apology. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize someone was back here," he said.

Logan barely heard him over the blankness of his mind. With his heartbeat quickening, his retina display scanned his features, so similar from all the years spent hearing and seeing him on the netscreens. He was taller in real life and his gray shirt and jeans was nothing like the fine clothes he's usually seen in. Yet it still only took 2.5 seconds for Logan's scanner to measure his facial structure and make a match to his image in the net database. Another 1.2 seconds later and information he already knew flashed on the bottom of his vision in a thin green text.

Prince Emile, crown prince of the [INSERT NAME]

ID #001252647

Born December 16, 108 T. E.: A press meeting is scheduled by Crown Prince Emile to discuss the ongoing letomosis research and possible ideas to an antidote--

Logan suddenly launched himself up from the table, nearly falling from forgetting about his missing foot. Catching himself with both hands on the table, he managed to give an awkward bow. The retina display faded.

"Your highness," he was able to stutter out, glad that his foot, or lack thereof, was hidden by the table.

The prince flinched, and scanned behind him to make sure no one saw before hunching over the table "Maybe, um,-" he put a finger to his lips-- "on the royalty stuff?"

Wide eyed, Logan gave a shaky nod, "Of course. Whatever you'd like, How can I- Are you?- Uh" he gulped, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

"I'm looking for a Robert Logan?," the prince asked, "are they here?"

Logan dared to lift a hand from the table, using it to tug the glove higher on his wrist. Staring at the bustle of the crowd behind the prince, he bit his lip, "I'm Robert Logan."

His gaze followed the hand he planted on top of the androids round head.

"You're Robert Logan?"

"Yes, your high-" he cut himself off.

"The mechanic?"

Logan nodded, "How may I assist you?"

Instead of answering, the prince leaned down, bending his neck so that he had no choice but to meet his gaze, and flashed a smile at him. His heart flinched.

The prince stood back up, forcing Logan's eyes to follow.

"You're not hardly what I was expecting."

"Well, you're hardly what I expected." Unable to hold his gaze, the mechanic pulled the android to his side of the table. "What seems to be wrong with your android?"

The android looked brand new but Logan could tell from the shape of its mock feminine body, it needed an upgrade. The design was smooth, though, with a spherical head atop an hourglass body and a gleaming white finish.

"I can't get her to start," said Prince Emile, staring as Logan inspected the android. "She was working great one day, and the next, nothing."

Logan moved the android to where its sensor lights faced the prince. He was glad he had a routine for his hands and a routine for his mouth, something to focus on so he wouldn't get too flustered and overheat again. "Have you had problems with her before?"

"No. She would get monthly check ups from the team of royal mechanics. This is the first problem she's ever had."

Leaning, Prince Emile picked up the small foot from its shrine, examining it from curiosity in his hands. Logan went taunt, slightly shaking as he squinted at the wire filled hollow center, messing with the flexible joints of the toes. He used his oversized sweatshirt to clean off a small smudge of grease.

"Aren't you hot in that?" Logan questioned, quickly regretting turning back the prince's attention onto him.

For a swift moment, Prince Emile almost looked self conscious. "Dying," he said, "but I'm attempting to not be noticed.

Logan considered saying it wasn't going to plan but decided not to. The lack of an assembly of screaming people and news reporters surrounding them was enough evidence that it was working better than originally thought to be. Instead of looking like the famed heart throb, he just looked crazy.

Swallowing, Logan turned his attention back to the android. He found up the barely visible latch and pulled the back panel open. "May I ask why the royal mechanics aren't fixing her?"

"They attempted but couldn't figure it out. Someone suggested you. I figured why not." He set the foot back down and turned his gaze to the boxes of old and beaten down parts- parts for androids, netscreens, hovers, and port screens. Parts for cyborgs."They say you were the best mechanic. I was expecting someone older."

"Do they?" He mumbled.

The prince wasn't the first to voice his surprise. Most of his customers couldn't comprehend that a black teenager could be the best of his trade, and he never answered why. The fewer people who knew he was cyborg, the better. He was sure to go mad if everyone looked at him like Helen Smith does.

He prodded some of the wires in the back panel with his pinky. "Sometimes they just break down when older. Maybe it's time to get a newer model? I could tell you some good ones?"

"I'm afraid that won't be needed. She contains a lot of the government's secrets. It's a matter of national security that I am able to retrieve it…. before anyone else."

Stilling, Logan glanced at him.

He returned his stare for a full 3.5 seconds before breaking into a grin. "I'm joking. Valerie has sentimental value as my first android."

A blue light flickered in the corner of Logan's retina scanner. His optobionics has picked up on something he'd missed- an extra swallow, a small change in tone, a hand going a little too still.

He was accustomed to the little blue light. It was a common occurrence to see it flashing there in the corner.

It signaled someone was lying.

"That's funny," he said.

The prince narrowed his eyes, as if challenging him to correct him. A strand of thick hair fell over his eyes. Logan broke the little staring contest they had.

"Tutor 8.7 model," he read aloud from the slightly raised words, inside the faintly lit panel. This model was used almost 20 years ago. Ancient. "She looks to be in perfect condition."

Quickly pulling back his arm, he hit the android hard against the side of its head, catching it right before it hit the floor. He set it back as the prince calmed himself down from the shock.

Logan quickly turned it around and pressed the power button, but it didn't turn on. "You'd be shocked at how often that actually works."

Prince Emile let out an awkward chuckle, "Are you sure you're Robert Logan? The most renowned mechanic in Ladonia?"

"Logan, I got it!" Talyn rolled out of the hustle and bustle of midday shopping, their purple sensor flaring. Lifting a pronged hand, they banged a brand new, beautiful, steel plated foot onto the table, right beside the android. "It's a huge improvement, barely used, and the wiring looks great! Plus, I got it down to 650 univs instead of the 800 originally. Must be my beautiful looks."

Logan jolted. Balancing on his human leg, he seized the foot from Talyn and threw it behind him. "Thank you, Talyn. I believe Aramoana will be quite happy that you got their replacement foot so cheap."

Purple flashed as Talyn said, "I don't understand."

With a tight lipped smile, Logan waved a hand towards their customer. "Talyn, please respect our newest customer." He spoke softly, "His Imperial Highness."

#logan sanders #sander sides #sander side au #Sanders Sides Cinder AU #Cinder AU #emile sanders #lomile #logan x emile

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 years

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What if Crowley asks the reader to teach him how to waltz so that he can impress Azi, but then after teaching Crowley, Azi asks the reader the same thing to impress Crowley?(basically neither of them know they're taking lessons from the same person)

“Hey um..[y/n]?”

“What’s up?” You turned to the demon, who got up from his gold and red throne and walked over to you. For some reason he looked rather nervous, given how stiff he appeared and the way he wringed his hands together.

“I’ve been thinking of ways to uh…i-impress Aziraphale.” He began. “And I’m wondering if maybe you knew any dances? I mean I know disco, but it’s not really of the “romantic” sorts.”

For a few moments you gazed at him in surprise, before a smile stretched across your features. “Awh, I’d never expect that to come from you, of all people-”

“Yeah, yeah, well it has now.” He snapped, frowning at you despite the rising blush on his face. “So can you teach me or what?”

“Of course. What do you wanna learn?”

“I’m…thinking the waltz,” Crowley answered almost immediately. “It’s one of the most romantic types of dances out there. Very old-fashioned. I think..he’d like it a lot.” He smiled ever-so lightly at you.

“Well, you’re in luck, my friend.” You chuckled as you took your phone out and went onto YouTube, searching up some songs. “I’ll find some music for this and then I’ll teach you the steps.”

It didn’t take you long to figure out which one. “The Millionaire Waltz” by Queen was a perfect choice, as you knew Crowley could never resist dancing to any of their songs. You played the video and set your phone on his desk.

The demon wandered over to you, unsure of what to do next.

“You may wanna take of your glasses for this,” you told him. “You’ll be able to see our footsteps better.”

“..o-oh, right. Yeah. But um..” He shifted uncomfortably. “My eyes won’t distract you or anything?”

“Crowley, I’ve seen you without them on many times. So don’t worry.” You reassured him, smiling as you took off his glasses for him and set them on his desk as well.

“Okay. So I’ll lead you through it.” You offered your hand to him. “Take my hand.”

Crowley nodded and grasped your hand, although he stiffened once more as you guided his own hand around you, having it rest against your back. Then you placed your free hand on his upper arm and intertwined your fingers with his.

The poor demon’s face was incredibly red at this point, but he tried to play it cool and followed along to your instructions, letting you lead the way and slowly guide him around the room.

His movements were a bit rigid, adding to his embarrassment. To say that he felt only slightly jealous of a human was an understatement, but he kept telling himself he was doing this for Aziraphale. He really wanted to share a dance with him, and he was determined to get the steps down.

As the five-minute song ended, you both let go of each other. “Not bad for a first time.” You chuckled in amusement.

“Yeah that was..quite nice,” he confessed. “Doesn’t seem too difficult. Thanks for showing me the ropes.”

“Anytime.” You patted his shoulder. “I gotta get home but feel free to call if you want any more lessons.”

Crowley simply nodded, and watched as you grabbed your phone and headed out of his flat. Once you closed the door, he turned around to face his plants, his expression becoming stern.

“You all better say I was good.”

……..

Sometime later, you visited the Az Fell & Co. bookshop since Aziraphale invited you over for some crepes and apparently “advice” on something.

You speculated that it couldn’t have been a coincidence, and you were, indeed, correct, as he nervously asked if you could teach him the waltz. While he did know the gavotte, he wanted to go with something that would be easy for Crowley to master.

Although despite the numerous books on dancing he’s collected, he figured that actually practicing it would help him understand it better.

Of course, you were eager to show him the waltz, too.

After finding a nice record for Aziraphale’s phonograph, you set it up before swiftly returning to his side, instructing him on where to place his hands. Considering how much of a gentleman he was, he was relaxed and comfortable as you guided him through the steps.

He was certainly far more fluid with his motions as he smiled and twirled along with you.

A few minutes later, you both stopped to take a breather. “My that was lovely, [y/n]!” The angel grinned. “I’ve heard so much about how elegant the waltz is. Thank you for teaching me. Just..maybe a lesson or two more and I’ll be able to impress Crowley!”

“Yep, and after that we’ll find a nice place where you two can share a dance.” You winked, before you returned to the sofa to sit and finish your tea.

Neither of the celestial beings knew it yet, but you were certain that they were going to be surprised by how well they both danced. They wouldn’t even realize you’ve been teaching them separately until that day arrived.

For now, though, you’ll keep it a secret.

#clanask #anonymous #good omens x reader #good omens imagine #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

savage garden, 4/?

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

A/N: Here we go again! Thanks to everyone who continues to read and comment—you keep me going! And thanks again to the organizers of @csmarchmadness and to @optomisticgirl for being awesome.

The title again comes from “Violet” by Savage Garden; this song just has a lot of lyrics that fit these two. I also lied about this chapter being longer but the next few will be! Now I’ll shut up and let Emma and Killian get better acquainted...

chapter 4: the same two people looking out to sea

He couldn’t go to the garden again for a several more days as a storm that rolled in that night decided to send a tree branch through his roof, making a mess of his greatroom. It wasn’t the first time that had happened—everything in the cottage had been rebuilt at some point, and the manual labor was just another thing he could focus on that wasn’t the voices in his head encouraging him to just fix it with a wave of his hand.

He was sweeping the detritus from the room when he discovered the branch had also broken through the secret compartment he’d built under the floor. Usually, it was covered by a rug, but that had been trashed, too. As soon as he saw the crevice, he dropped what he was doing to make sure its contents were unharmed.

He extracted the sleek black box from the space and exhaled in relief that it was unharmed.

Nothing can break that, or have you already forgotten?

“I haven’t. Just needed to make sure.”

It’s the one thing you’ve done right.

The box was wrought from cast iron, an inch thick on all sides, and sealed with a blood lock—the only magic he had ever wanted to use. He set the box on the damaged floor in front of him and grabbed a thorny branch laying on the floor with which to prick his finger; his hook was far too dull to do anything that meticulous.

Once a drop of blood welled up, he quickly used it to draw an M on the surface of the box before the wound healed on its own. The box seemed to absorb his blood and the lid released with a click, despite having no obvious lock.

He opened it, and there it still lay, just as gleaming and menacing as on that day all those years ago: his dagger. He hated to call it his, but it was hard to protest when it was his name engraved in steel with the same darkness that had been his companion for the all these years.

He quickly locked it back up and stuck it back in its hole, bunching up the damaged rug over it for concealment until he had the materials to repair it. He wasn’t all that worried about someone taking it—the sole perk to having no living relatives was that the blood lock ensured only he could open it. But he still didn’t want to risk it.

On the day he finally got back to the garden, Emma was seated on one of the benches, head thrown back as she soaked in the sun’s rays. “I wondered when I’d see you again,” she called out, even though he’d entered completely silently.

“I had things to tend to at home, else I would have returned sooner. How did you know I was here?” he asked, curious.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, then scooted over on her bench, inviting him to sit next to her. He hesitated before stepping out of the shade of one of the large trees—especially because once he did, the sunlight on his shimmery skin immediately made her squint, so he stepped back to the darker area.

“Come here,” she said—well, more like commanded, so he did as she told him. But he pulled up his hood and tugged his cloak a bit tighter around him, both to save her eyes and for fear of contact with her setting off the magic again.

“I hate to tell you this,” she started, finally answering his question, “but you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” she explained, still smiling. “At least, not to me. Even traces of dark magic I can sense, even if you weren’t actively using it.”

Bloody hell, did this mean any magic user could find him? Were all his precautions for naught?

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, sensing his panic. “It’s not everyone who can—just me, I think. At least, that’s what the fairies told me.”

“Fairies? Those are real?”

Emma tilted her head. “The Dark One doesn’t know about fairies?”

He shrugged. “This Dark One doesn’t know much about magic, period.”

Much to our disgust.

She pursed her lips in thought. “Can I ask...just how long have you been the Dark One?”

He nervously scratched behind his ear. “I’m not sure on the exact number, but by my estimates...about a hundred and thirty years, give or take.”

Emma whistled. “And you’ve been on your own that whole time?”

He nodded. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve got that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone.”

He scoffed. “I had that long before any magic came into my life,” he blurted, but regretted it. She didn’t want to hear his tale of woe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

He was stunned. The only other person to ask about his life was Milah, and as they’d just established, that was a very long time ago. That said, he didn’t know if he wanted to; while logically, he knew she wouldn’t, anyone else who had ever taken an interest in him just exploited and hurt him.

“Not today, I’m afraid...but maybe another.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s fine. Wanna hear about the fairies?”

“Sure.”

He honestly didn’t remember all the details of what she was telling him—the politics and rules of diminutive sprites didn’t hold much relevance for him, he didn’t think—but listening to her talk was entertaining enough. She was dryly funny and slightly sarcastic, but it couldn’t hide her genuine enthusiasm at times.

“You really didn’t know they were real?” she finally asked.

“No; in my time and experience, they were just thought to be legend.”

“Kind of like you, then.”

“I…” he started, but he didn’t really know what to say. Did he explain that he was merely an unwilling vessel for the Darkness? That, regardless of the name on that blade, they were still separate entities? (Unfortunately.) That the only thing he could take credit for was ensuring the Dark One became part of history, well in the past? “I...hope that means that there’s no reputation to precede me,” he finally replied.

“Not much of one,” she answered nonchalantly. “I read about the Dark One in a history book that Blue gave me for homework, but...you don’t seem capable of anything that guy did. Unless you’ve had a crazy change of heart.”

“Uh, well…” Show her what we can do! the Darkness crowed, and his heart rate picked up as the voices called out, most in indignation at their forgotten memory. “Let’s just say that my predecessors had different views on power than I do.”

“You didn’t want it?”

“I don’t, no. But I can keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”

“That sounds noble.”

He snorted again. “I’m not sure about that, but...it’s certainly the least I can do.”

She gave him a thoughtful look but then winced as her stomach grumbled. “Sorry. Guess I need to plant some fruit trees in here.”

“That’d be a lovely addition,” he agreed, his mouth watering at the thought of fresh fruit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself such an indulgence. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He rose to leave but she followed. “Do you want to join me?”

The thought of going out in public—with people around—immediately made him nervous. “I, uh, don’t eat much,” he offered as an excuse; it wasn’t a great one but he hoped she’d buy it.

She tilted her head as she walked toward him. “That’s not all of it, is it?” So much for that; he swallowed and attempted to come up with an explanation, but she continued. “It’s alright. But just so you know, I can spot a lie from a mile away.” She winked at him and he immediately blushed. “Will you at least walk me out?”

“Of course, milady.” He offered her his arm, even through the cloak.

She looked away for a moment, a sad smile on her face; he could tell that her story, whatever it was, was likely as complicated as his own. But then she shook her head a bit and took his arm with a grin, and he escorted her out.

When they parted ways, she told him that she hoped she’d seen him sooner than his last visit. Part of him wasn’t sure that was wise, given that the Darkness was yelling at him to end her right there, but the part of him that was only a man concurred, and looked forward to their next meeting.

You’ll be the death of us, boy.

“One can only hope.”

Killian didn’t visit every day; he worried that might be too intrusive. And there were some days he went and she wasn’t there, leaving him to peruse the space on his own. Something was different on each trip there, typically new flowers in bloom.

“Where do you get them all from?” he had to ask one day as they took a turn about the paths arm-in-arm.

“Uh, well, don’t judge me, but...I’ve stolen a lot of them from pirate ships,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah; it’s the only way to get the really exotic ones, like the orchids over there.”

“Doesn’t stealing from a pirate make you one yourself?” he teased.

She shrugged. “I guess. I’m kind of used to it by now; I live on the lam, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s alright, love; takes one to know one, I suppose.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What, a thief or a pirate?”

“The latter.”

“You? No way.”

“In another life, aye.”

“But you’re so...sweet.”

He laughed; that was a very nice way of describing him, he decided. “If it’s any explanation, it wasn’t by choice.”

Her voice got quiet. “Will you tell me?”

He couldn’t blame her for being curious; not many men had his years. Well, Nimue lived a while, and Zoso...which you’d know if you cared.

He ignored that and instead focused on Emma. “I’m not sure there’s a ton to tell, and it’s not very happy, but I will.” In as few words as he could manage, he told her about his mother and her passing; his father and how he sold he and his brother into servitude; how his brother finally found freedom, only to die in the service of the King’s Navy before he was able to rescue Killian from the wretched men they were enslaved to; being traded from ship to ship until he eventually landed in Blackbeard’s crew; Milah—brilliant beautiful Milah; and finally, that fateful day that took her from him, too, and brought him here. He made sure to leave out the specifics of the weapon he used, but didn’t want to deny the fact that he’d killed Rumplestiltskin.

“And that’s how I acquired this curse; like most things in my life, it was just a transaction, a passing of the responsibilities. And I...I’ve killed others, though not intentionally. Sometimes the Darkness...it has a mind of its own, and I can’t always keep it in check, which you’ve seen, unfortunately. And that’s been the situation for over a hundred years now. So...that’s it,” he concluded, probably anticlimactically.

He was scared to look at her after divulging all that; he’d known before he delved into his story that it would probably change the way she looked at him, and not for the better, but he didn’t want to keep anything from her. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met and he couldn’t deny the growing part of him that wanted to share everything with her. But that meant no lies and no secrecy.

So he was astonished when he finally faced her and found not anger or disgust, but tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Killian,” she said, voice as watery as her gaze, and pulled him into a hug. “I can’t believe everything you’ve gone through.”

He hesitated to reciprocate the embrace, but he did eventually; it had been so long since he’d felt one, he couldn’t help it, and her warmth made him terribly aware of how devoid of it his life had been. But he couldn’t let it linger for long; he pulled back and asked, “Aren’t you frightened of me?”

“Why would I be?” she wondered, then sniffled.

“I...look at me. You just heard everything. I’m not...I’m not good, Emma.”

“You’ve made mistakes; who hasn’t?” He couldn’t believe how nonchalant she was about this. “But you also had to make do with life dealing you a shitty hand. And the fact that you’re trying so hard to keep the Darkness at bay...I can’t even imagine how difficult that is, but if someone wasn’t ‘good,’ whatever that means, they wouldn’t be able to.” She took a seat at one of the benches, and tugged him down next to her. “I may not have lived as long as you, but I’ve come across lots of people—some who were genuinely good, some who were truly bad, and some who said they were one but turned out to be the other. Usually, they act like they’re good but they’re really just selfish assholes. You, Killian Jones, are the first who thinks they’re not good when they really, truly are.”

He felt a welling of emotion he hadn’t felt in ages, and he had no idea how to describe it. But it wasn’t unlike how he felt the first time Milah protected him from the crew’s constant abuse; he felt...he didn’t want to say loved, but maybe he just felt like a person again.

“I’m not sure I deserve such praise, but I’m too weak to refute it,” he said, hoping she realized how much that meant to him. “Especially from someone as incredible as you.”

Emma gave him half a smile, but looked away. “Well, now it’s my turn for denial, then; I’m not some paragon of virtue, either.”

“I find that hard to believe, love.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Please don’t. Just...let me tell my story now.” She sighed, then began. “Did I mention that I was a princess?”

He was taken aback—though not altogether surprised; despite her clothing, she definitely had a regal appearance and carriage. “No, I don’t think you did, Your Highness.”

“Dammit, I knew you’d do that. I’m gonna stop you right there before you pledge your fealty or something. And emphasis on was; I’m not sure if I still am one.”

“What happened?”

“Maleficent happened.” Before Emma was born, there had been a prophecy; she didn’t go into the details, but apparently, to fulfill her destiny, she had to remain “light.” (“I’m still not sure what that means but I guess this garden is proof I’ve managed it.”) She herself didn’t know the details, but apparently, her parents did something to Maleficent’s child to ensure that Emma stayed on the right path. (“Who does that?” she complained, shivering.) Fast forward twenty-some years—she had an idyllic childhood and adolescence, learning everything about ruling a country from her parents, as well as how to hone her magic by the fairies. There was a less-than-honourable prince in there who broke her heart and turned her off of the idea of romantic love, but despite her parents being the epitome of it (“Actual, certified True Love, confirmed by the gods or something”), they supported her desire to rule alone.

“So life was all good, until a few months ago, when Maleficent finally decided to get her revenge; not sure why it took her 28 years, but I guess the timing is irrelevant.” (My kind of witch, the Darkness cheered. Maybe you could learn something from this story.) Anyways, she storms into the castle during my confirmation—not really that important a thing; just a ceremony signalling that I’d be taking a larger role in governing—and starts ranting and raving about what my parents took from her, which I had no idea about until then. Then she threatened to put a sleeping curse on me, but my stupid parents wouldn’t let her, and told her to curse my mom. But the witch only would agree if she cursed both my parents, who agreed, even though I begged them not to.” She had to pause to wipe a tear from her eyes. “So that’s what she did, and then transformed into a dragon and flew out through the stained glass window. I tried to wake them, but...it didn’t work.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Oh, lass,” he murmured, then pulled her close to him on instinct. He surprised himself with that, and was even more shocked when she leaned into him.

“And here I am. I fled from the court because I obviously failed at being their daughter, if my love for them isn’t true enough to wake them. So I’ve been on the run ever since, stealing to get by. I have no idea what to try next and my people probably think I’ve abandoned them...this is the only place that I have any peace.”

“I know how that feels,” he said softly. For a while, they just sat, finding respite in the quiet of the garden, save for the gentle gurgle of the fountain. Emma sniffed occasionally, but otherwise didn’t move from where she sat, her head resting on his shoulder. He hadn’t been in this position since Milah, whenever she was particularly missing her son. Just as then, he didn’t know how to offer any words of comfort, but just being there seemed to help—or, at least, he hoped it did.

“Sorry,” she said eventually and sat up. “I bet you weren’t expecting to hear a sob story today.”

“Nonsense. I’m...I’m glad you felt you could share it with me.”

“Same here,” she answered. “God, here I am blubbering when you’re the one with the sadder story.”

“It’s not a contest; like I said, everyone has their burdens.”

“Wish there was a way we could lighten each other’s loads.”

“Aye,” he agreed with a sad smile. “I’m afraid your magical knowledge might be better than mine, though.”

“Maybe, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. There wasn’t a whole lot in my education about evil curses. Sorry,” she added when she noticed his slight wince at her choice of words. “But even the fairies don’t know much—they say it’s not their ‘brand of magic’ or whatever. And I’m not sure where else to look.”

Oh, but you do.

“I do,” he realized, agreeing with the Darkness out loud. This might be the first time in his history that being the Dark One was actually useful. He told Emma, “There’s a library at the Dark Castle; it’s protected with magic, but I have to imagine there’s something in there that could be of use.”

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide at the prospect. “Can you take me there?”

“Uh…” The prospect of taking here there seemed like a terrible idea. He’d gladly bring the books to her, but there was a reason he didn’t like spending much time at the castle. “I’d feel safer if you didn’t. It’s...not a pleasant place, and it’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s that I don’t trust anyone else, and you, my dear, will no doubt garner attention on such a journey.”

She crossed her arms and gave him an unamused look. “I’m too pretty to go—that’s it?”

“Not all of it, but...part.”

“What’s the rest?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what effect it’ll have on me,” he confessed. The castle had dark magic in its very mortar; the whispers always grew louder there, the magic humming in his blood even stronger. “Should something go awry, I’d feel better knowing you were far from there...from me.”

Emma pursed her lips. “I don’t like it, but...I get it.” He sighed in relief. “Is there anything I can do in return?”

“Be here when I get back?” He hadn’t expected his voice to sound so small and childlike, but now that she knew what his life had been like, hopefully she’d understand his concern.

“Of course. When do you think that’ll be?”

“It takes a few days to get there, so..give me a week?”

“You mean you don’t just poof there?”

He bit his lip. “I try to use the magic as little as possible. It...it helps,” he explained, hoping she’d be able to fill in the blank.

She nodded in understanding. “Okay then; I’ll be here.”

There wasn’t much else to do, then, but say their goodbyes and for him to head on his way. He’d need to stop at home for a few things, but he had no other reason to delay the journey—save for his growing reluctance to leave Emma’s presence. As had become usual, he escorted her out, but she stopped before they reached the door.

“I guess this is where I wish you good luck,” she said.

“I appreciate that,” he replied, blushing. What a lovesick fool, the Darkness gagged.

She paused for a moment, but then went up on her tiptoes and placed a light kiss on his cheek. Again he felt that spark at the contact he’d felt the first time, and the buzzing it prompted in his veins energized him for the task ahead.

When she fell back on her heels, he could tell she was biting back a giggle, likely at his slack-jawed reaction. “I’ll see you in a week. Take care,” she farewelled, and headed out.

“You too,” he said as he watched her leave, his fingers coming up to the place where her lips had just been.

He let it soak in for one more moment before setting out, with the hopes of the same thing greeting him on return.

thanks for reading, friends! tags: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @distant-rose @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight

#cs ff #killian jones ff #dark killian #deckhand hook #cs march madness #fic: savage garden #my ff

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aliaisreal · 7 years

Text

Fall

Created: April 27, 2017

Edited: May 4, 2017

Note: This is the story of Ergin Castillo, the flirt of the story I had been doing during my senior year but haven’t gotten to finish it. And so, four years later, I decided to revive it but made it into a lazy one shot. After all, I really need to close this story at some point, right?

Summary: She’s a flirt, and everybody hates it. All she ever does is steal boyfriends and have half of their fans fall on their knees for her. But… surely, there’s a reason why she acts like one, right?

Prompt: “What’s gonna make you fall?”

Disclaimer: I don’t own the song and in case not many know this, it’s a Bieber song entitled Fall. I really don’t want to put the lyrics like those song fictions so I kinda planted it in the story instead. And yes, I am aware that I am simply telling the story. (That’s exactly what I am aiming for.) If you don’t like it, don’t read this.

Dedicated to: E. M. C. I know. It only took so long. ;)

Age: 6

Like every girl her age, Ergin had absolutely adored Disney. She would make it a point to behave properly in order for her parents to buy her the dvd copies of the princess stories and play it during family movie time.

Like every other girl, she would swoon, clap, and giggle at the romantic scenes no matter how many times she had seen it. Safe to say, at the very young age, Ergin Marie is a hopeless romantic kind of girl.

She had dreamed of being a princess from a far away land, in hopes of getting rescued by a dashing prince (played by her dad, of course) and whom will be her husband (whatever that means) someday. She dreamed of finding love just as how her parents found theirs.

That dream of hers shattered one awful evening when she heard the anguished cries of her father where she witnessed just how her mom had kissed another man who isn’t her father.

“What’s going on, daddy? Why is mommy kissing that man?”

“Don’t worry about it sweetie, go to bed. Your mommy and I need to talk about something.”

Her parents had a screaming match that night which ended her mom leaving the threshold while her daddy broke down while she simply watched from the shadows upstairs, her heart breaking on its own. (They think she didn’t notice, but how can she not when her daddy was sporting red eyes the next day?)

She didn’t get it, she couldn’t understand what’s happening. Everything went blurry and the next thing she knew, her mom’s sharp claws are separating her from the tight hold of her daddy on her. She remembered screaming and tantrums and crying and biting-anything just to prevent the wicked witch from taking her away.

But it was no use.

She may not understand but one thing is clear here: she’ll never see her beloved father again.

Age: 10

She hated her mother, she decided. No, she hates her mother.

Apparently, according to her English teacher, Mrs. Russo, there’s a big difference between those sentences. (Thanks for the correction, Mrs. R!)

Whatever, either way the feeling is still the same and that is her hatred towards the wicked witch. (She may be her mother, but the moment she had separated her from her beloved daddy, she never saw the witch that way ever again.)

Now that four years had passed, Ergin finally understood what happened during that fateful night (Her classmates aren’t really discreet with their choice of words and she had to thank her dictionary for providing her knowledge for the meanings.)

Thanks to the court, she’s now in the custody of her wretched mother who doesn’t even know how to raise a child. (All the witch ever does now is to have few men over, and while she have her fun with them, she lets her do whatever she wanted.) The only right thing her mother did was to send her to school. (To get rid of her during the day, no doubt.)

And so, it didn’t surprise Ergin when she saw her mother one day all beaten up, demanding her to pack her clothes and leave town. (Secretly, she’s glad that wicked witch got a taste of her own medicine, maybe this will serve as a lesson to her.)

Age: 12

Apparently, wicked witch getting abused isn’t enough to teach her a lesson for the moment they arrived in their new town- new home, the witch had told her, to which she had rolled her eyes at- the witch had jumped at the opportunity of getting a new boyfriend while her? She became the laughing stock of her new school.

After all, who is in their right mind would befriend the slut’s daughter, right?

“Don’t come near her or her mother might make you her next boyfriend!”

“Look, it’s the next generation of slut!”

It wasn’t fair, it was never fair that her mother won the custody over her. In fact, her father is much more capable in providing her needs. She wants her daddy, and she wanted him right now! She just wishes that it was her daddy who won and not the ugly old hag. She needs her daddy now!

When lunch break came, her mind is set, she’ll run away to find her daddy- nevermind the fact that she doesn’t know where to look. Only… her plan had never commenced for the wicked witch had called her and told her-stoically, she might want to add, that her father had passed away on a car accident.

Her daddy- gone in an instant. Dead, and not breathing.

Not caring if anyone saw, she ran and ran-away from the mean crowd, away from the school.

Tears blurred her sight but she kept on running, until she lacked of oxygen, until her legs gave out on her, buckling under her weight, until she no longer felt anything.

What did she ever do to deserve this? Why-of all people- her?

She didn’t know how long, she didn’t know how much time passed but when she felt a hand reaching out for her, she didn’t know why, but she just snapped and realized all her frustrations and flipped the person over.

She heard a grunt but with unshed tears on her eyes, she couldn’t make out the person-for all she knew, he might be the town’s rapist.

“Thank you for being here when I needed someone but please don’t rape me. I’m not a slut no matter what people say.”

“Uh… I’m not a rapist and I don’t think you’re a reflection of what your mother does so I know you’re not one.”

She then had wiped her tears and met the most handsome person she had ever had the chance of meeting. Chinky brown eyes, boyish smile, fair complexion… She knew she was in the presence of a member of the popular crowd but she felt herself not caring for the first time ever.

“Don’t worry, Ergin,”

Her gaze snapped at him, she never knew that people had dared remember her name. All she was to them was the school’s slut (even if she never slept with anyone ever.)

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Somehow, that fateful day had turned the tables around, because for the first time in six years, she let out a small smile.

Age: 16

Rumors spread like wildfire, a thought that had crossed her mind the moment the school had winded up that their precious golden boy, Daryl Fraser is dating the loser slut a.k.a her.

At first, she had gotten the burnt end because of the hate she had went through the first week. The bullying intensified and the next thing she knew, she wished to take everything back but when she had tried to tell this to her boyfriend, all he ever did was to pull her close to him and that he never had let her go.

And of course, the school knew. They knew what he had done and so they changed tactics.

They managed to find her weak spot and turned it against her. Soon, everyone slowly warmed up to her until she was accepted by her peers. Everywhere she went, people began to open themselves up to her.

People began to befriend her, to let her mingle in the crowd, to be a part of their kingdom.

She began to be caught up with everyone’s attention that slowly, she had loosen her grip onto the one person who mattered above all.

And he knows it. Everyone knows it. All except… her.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She knew how words affect other people, how in one sentence, if constructed wrong, mean another thing to another person. But damn, she never realized how painful it is. Not when she’s in the receiving end.

Those were his words, the words that broke their relationship; never mind the four years they spent together, never mind the fact that he loved her very much so. Never mind the fact that they broke their hearts even when they had promised not to.

Never mind that.

She loved- loves him. And she let him go.

Age: 21

She was twenty one when she became a part of the most famous girl band in her generation. She was twenty one when her band is going through a major breakout; when her band is facing the most dramatic part of being a band.

Tours, paparazzi, interviews, pressure for new album, scandals, mall shows, gigs, songwriting sessions, recording sessions, and most of all,

Resurfacing feelings.

She wanted to scoff at the thought. She had long let go of him, of her past but why is it so painful to see him with that…witch?

Her band’s members have always had titles stuck with them ever since they had started out, it was something that their fans had affectionately called them at times. And it just so happened that Joshua, their manager, had accidentally slipped his nickname for her.

The Hedoness or Hedone.

It wasn’t really a surprise to see her jumping from one man to another when it comes to dating and mingling. It wasn’t really a surprise to see her having flings from time to time. To have men falling on their knees the moment they laid their eyes on her. Granted, all five of them are really attractive but only she can turn her charm on even just by blinking.

So, if she’s the self-proclaimed flirt in their group, the one person who can never be tied down to one person, why is it so painful for her that she had reached to the point of almost hurting the witch? (She had vowed to never hurt a person, not like what her bullies did to her at that time. And she never breaks her vows. She was horrified at what she had done that she locked herself in her room when they reached home.)

Seeing you, it kills me now. From hating you, I blame myself. No, I don’t cry on the outside… she paused at what she had written as the image of him popped on her mind.

Before she could even comprehend it, a tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another, and another, and the next thing she knew, sobs were escaping her lips.

Even after those years, she had thought that the pain had left her the moment she had decided to be in the band. Even after those years, she had thought that her past won’t come up anymore and that she is free from whatever clutches the wicked witch had on her. But seeing him…

Why does it feel like she’s been living her life wrong? That even when she have almost everything, there’s something else missing? Why does it feel so… empty?

Age: 22

It was a year later when she decided to quit living the way she’s been living. It was a year later that she decided to disappear just from the face of media to find herself, to be able to get a grasp of what she’s been doing wrong.

“I won’t be long,”

“Yeah, you better not pull a Zayn Malik on us.”

“I’m more of Harry Styles kind of person.”

It wasn’t a reckless decision after all, she had asked for the opinion of the Management and they had given her the permission to ‘find herself’ as she had stated.

The fans were disappointed, her band mates don’t even know where she’s been gone but after the Management had reassured that she won’t leave, they were all okay with her taking a small hiatus. She doesn’t even have a plan to begin with, she figured she’d just go along with it just as how she had been before she rose to her fame.

And so what better way than to spend her vacation on the town where she last had been with her daddy, (no matter what age, she’ll always refer to him as her daddy.) the last house she had been before everything went all wrong.

She had spent reminiscing everything, going from one place to another until she reached the town where she grew up in. At some point, she had even went to the wicked witch’s place just to see what she’s been doing.

It was strange, seeing wicked wi- her mother falling apart just like that. It was strange that after all these years, she never had stopped and questioned her actions from before and why she’s being just like her when she had never wanted to. And just like what she had done years ago, all the wicked witch had gotten from her was the familiar sight of a slamming door.

“You came back,”

She hadn’t known and if she were, she would’ve never came that day. She would’ve simply had locked herself inside her room in the penthouse and waited for days to pass and yet, here they were, back to where they had started.

“Just for today.”

Her response was short and clipped, surprising him. Why, just a year ago, she wouldn’t stop trying to make him jealous with the men she’s been with, she wouldn’t stop getting his attention whenever his former girlfriend were around. (Which is so unlike of her since she had easily let him go before. Why is she chasing him now?)

Now that he had managed to corner her (with help from her eccentric manager, no less) he couldn’t help but feel…disappointed at her indifference towards him.

“Well, since you’re already in town why don’-”

“I can’t. I’m not the same girl you met before. I’m tired of this game, so… let’s just quit it before we hurt ourselves even more.”

If he was surprised before, he couldn’t help but feel gobsmacked now. Did he heard it right? Was she seriously just going to give up on him? On them?

“Don’t go, please. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He had caught her just as she was about to turn her back on him. (The very first ever since they met.) Now that she is done with the chasing, he can openly tell her what he had really felt about her.

Oh the irony of ironies. It seemed like it was only yesterday when he had asked her for a breakup-a breakup that only he benefited from. It seemed like the tables had turned and they both know it.

She turned around ever so slowly, and caressed his face, a reminder of her feelings for him, a reminder of what she had done for him.

“I have to go,”

It wasn’t exactly a goodbye, and it wasn’t exactly a promise.

But why did their hearts shatter at the same time?

He had to try again. Just one more.

“Did you know that I loved you?”

The distance is unbearable. But he had to be strong just like how she had when he had broke her heart.

“…Or were you not aware?”

Did you know that it breaks my heart every time I see you cry? Just like what you are doing right now. She wanted to yell, she wanted him to know but what would’ve it accomplished? What’s the point?

Age: 23

“What’s gonna make you fall in love?”

It wasn’t an antagonizing question. It wasn’t a derogatory question about her lifestyle. If anything, she’d confidently tell an outsider that their band’s publicist is only satisfying her curiosity which is why she had singled her out and invited her to stay with the rest of the Management (except for their manager since it was his turn to attend the meeting.)

She didn’t mind that she was asked on the spot, she didn’t mind whether she had an audience or not. (The probability of the boys teasing her increases every minute she spends with them. And with an embarrassing question, no less. What is this? High School Slumber Party?)

What bothers her is the question itself.

“You know I don’t believe in love. Why bother asking?”

Her voice cracked. She had given herself away and she knows it; she knows that Alia knows it, heck, her slip up is obvious enough for Jerome and Archer to pick it up. She was sure that the teasing will commence any moment but to her surprise, it never came.

“Humor me, Ergin. Just this once.”

What surprised her more is the use of her first name leaving their publicist’s lips and how soft it sounded. But no matter how amazed she is by how charming their publicist can be, she still can’t find the answer to her question.

“Maybe we should’ve let the boy asked her himself?”

Her eyes went wide, her neck turned at a speed that left them all wondering why she had never gotten a whiplash.

“What did you say, Jerome?”

She had never gotten an answer from the lad, not even from Alia and Archer who simply had sat there, looking past through her. She didn’t dare looking back. She hadn’t dared moving in fear of the worst.

“Ergin,”

Her whole body froze, she had never expected him to go after her, to create such an effort to see her again, to scheme with her Management just so he could right his wrong… or at least that’s what she thought he was after, right?

She hadn’t expected the Management to be meddlers (she should’ve expected it, after all, they are handling Silver Rain. It is bound that they have to meddle at some point.) She didn’t really want them to leave him with her, she’s not ready to face him yet!

“You haven’t answered any of my questions, you know. I just had to know.”

“And so you enlisted the help of the Management? How cruel can you be, Daryl? I’m letting you go, remember?”

“And I’m fighting for you, remember?”

All she had ever wanted was a fairytale life. With a witch for a mom, a deceased king for a dad, should she believe that the one in front of her is her prince? Isn’t that what she had always dreamed? Oh how messed up her life had become! Is this her punishment? She needed to end this now. She had to. She had enough.

“…Just go.”

“Welcome to Silver Rain’s temporary youtube account! As you can see, there’s no verified check next on our name cause well… it’s temporary. I know you guys have been wondering why we have this when we already have an official account, see.. there’s a valid reason.

The five of us have different stories to tell. Stories, which are very peculiar and probably won’t sit well with our current music. Once our stories have been told, we’re going to delete it, thus the reason for this account. And no, I’m sorry guys but since we have our amazing genius, Archer, you can’t really download it nor take a video of it. He’s got this virus thingie and I’m not sure if I can explain it in detail.

Bottom line is, if you guys see this, then good for you! But if you don’t, then that’s alright. We just wanted to share this to our fans without getting viral- thanks to the amazing team of techies-

Now, where was I? Oh right, the song! Uhm… First things first. I want to do this correctly and I think I should do an introduction first. My name is Ergin Marie Castillo and I’m uh… 23 turning 24. I know I’m too old for this but hey! At least I tried right? Now that introductions are done, I’m going to explain now what this song is.

The title of this song is Fall written by me and I kinda wrote this because I’ve had inspiration for the past twelve years of my life. And yes, it took that long for me to compose this. It’s not from my perspective, by the way. Just placing it out there.

Anyway, this song is dedicated to that one person who kept on asking me this pesky question. I had gotten the idea from them and well, I’m going to answer the question by making it a song instead. I think they are smart enough to figure it out, eh?”

#short story #one shot #i am actually a lazy potato i know #ergin #silver rain #forget the past #fall #flirt #story #fiction #justin bieber yes i know #what's gonna make you fall?

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