#cssns2020

[ohmightydevviepuu]

can't stop won't stop. from the edge of the deep green sea, yet again. written for the 2020 @cssns, this story is one of the most fun things i've worked on and it is easy to come back to it each time i want to try a new thing with the art or the binding technique. this one is a quarto (letter) "paperback" with a paste paper cover. binding technique inspired by @chubsonthemoon.

version 1: paste paper sealed with pearlescent fixatif before printing, then inked over with gel pens and foil quil for color and effect. new title page art inspired by a tattoo in the story. incredible watercolor from @mariakov81, always. i also changed up the typeset, making a more readable and easier-to-deal-with center ornament out of lunar phase dingbats and adding an epilogue to the story.

version 2: inkjet print on paste paper, cover design by me, inked with a foil quill heat transfer pen. spine titling with foil quill on japanese shibori paper.

[wistfulcynic]

Supernatural Summer Artist Highlight: carpedzem

Two years ago I had the incredible fortune of being paired in @cssns​ with the incomparable @carpedzem​. The idea I had for my fic was a bizarre one, half-baked and cobbled together from about three different prompts, but Nat took the disjointed ramblings I sent her and absolutely ran with them. We had discussions about the style of the windows in Emma’s dorm room, what poster should be on the wall (the S1 OUAT was her idea!), Nat turned Emma’s iconic red leather jacket into a red cape perfect for a fae princess, and she rendered the witch hat I showed her with absolute perfection. 

She also brought in two details that became crucial to the story. The first was the plant that she drew beautifully from a very vague description--so beautifully that it inspired Harriet, Emma’s semi-sentient leafy vine who immediately became a reader favourite and even has her own protection society, helmed by @optomisticgirl​. The second detail was the purple amulet Emma wears. This inspired the tywyll stone, the central macguffin of the story and the driving force of its plot. Without Nat’s imagination and skill and all the tiny, thoughtful details that she included in her art the story that is now The Eternal and Unseen could never have been what it became. 

What I'm saying is, it was an amazing collaboration and one of my fondest memories of the CS fandom. 

CSSNS 2022 needs more artists! If you are artistically inclined in any way I hope you’ll sign up. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to work with an author, to combine your efforts and produce something neither of you could have done on your own. It is genuinely one of the best experiences in fandom. 

Artist sign-up form is HERE. 

The Eternal and Unseen is HERE. 

Nat’s brilliant artwork is HERE: 

(I will never be able to look at this and not think how brilliant it is. I know, because I printed it out and it’s hanging now just above my laptop. Every day I look at it and think, this is freaking brilliant)

[snowbellewells]

“For Once, Don’t Let Go”

Okay, so I failed at posting this by early evening, and am instead squeaking it in just under the wire. All the same, I hope you will enjoy my little attempt at a ghost story for the @cssns​2020.  Thank you so much for the breathtakingly lovely and perfect story art by @hollyethecurious​!  Thanks to her for forgiving me getting my posting date mixed up, and to Krystal for keeping me on track and calming me down when I started to stress.

Summary: In some ways, Emma Swan has always been a ghost - alone and floating through life without much to tie her to anyone or any place. However, when she wakes up in an unfamiliar old house and realizes she is stuck haunting the last place she went while alive, it takes a while to reconcile the fact that she is a ghost and that there must be something keeping her in the world after all. Then she learns she isn’t the only lost soul in the house. And that changes everything.

Also on AO3

Without further explanations and apologies, here’s the fic!

“For Once, Don’t Let Go”

By: @snowbellewells​

In some ways, she has always been a ghost. Never fitting in, never belonging anywhere. Abandoned, and so closing her heart on the need to be accepted before she could be denied. It was for that reason, on the first morning of her afterlife, as she blinked awake in a chilled grey dawn that seemed just like any other, Emma Swan did not at first realize she was no longer part of the living world.

There was a strange quiet surrounding her, as she sat up from the bed, which strangely felt much softer, plusher than hers usually did at the end of an exhausting day or the morning after when her bones still ached and her mind never felt quite rested. It was those two things combined - the unaccustomed silence and depth and comfort of the sleep she’d emerged from - that put Emma off balance. It was never that still in the heart of the city, no matter how early in the morning. There was a constant humming undercurrent, a long-accepted background noise accompanying her life in Boston: sirens, horns, the grating and beeping of constant construction, the hubbub of voices, sounds unending. If she were deeply honest with herself (which she didn’t often allow) it was part of what she loved most about the large city on the eastern seaboard; there was so much noise that she could ignore her own thoughts. She didn’t like to dwell on or analyze her motivations for choosing a job where she tracked and found deadbeats who skipped out on those they should have stayed to support. She didn’t acknowledge - not even to herself - that each skip she hauled into the nearest precinct and collected her reward for gave her a sense of satisfaction that almost dulled her unanswered questions about the runners she hadn’t ever found - the parents who left her just after she was born.

So, she was already on edge as she found her feet and moved through the room she was increasingly aware did not look at all like the one in the loft apartment she currently rented, nor were any of her things scattered around as she usually left them. Moving from the room into the hall beyond, and then down a staircase into an entry hall that she knew her small apartment didn’t possess, Emma’s mind struggled to fully wake and understand where she was and how she came to be there.

It wasn’t until she reached the front door - tall, solid wood, but nondescript and standard, nothing too out-of-the-ordinary - that two more revelations struck her almost at once. Reaching out her hand to turn the doorknob, step outside and see if the outside of the house or its surroundings jogged her memory, Emma was shocked to find that her hand wouldn’t grip the metal knob at all, instead passing straight through both doorknob and door itself, sending her sprawling forward with a yelp of startled disbelief. No matter how impossible it seemed, the rest of her followed her outstretched hand, passing through the wooden door as if it simply didn’t exist.

Blinking and stunned from where she had landed on the top step up to the porch outside the strange house she’d woken up in, it was more than a bit hard for Emma to put together what had just happened. She knew her mouth was hanging open, “catching flies” as one of her more affectionate foster moms along the way had playfully called it, but somehow her surprise only increased when she took in the place’s exterior. She did know where she was, despite being at a loss for why she would have woken up there. This was the place where she had tracked her most recent skip last night.

Furrowing her brow in concentration - and admittedly trying not to consider how she had just slipped past a solid barrier and what that might mean - Emma attempted to pull up more from her memory than that. This newest skip had proven pretty slippery; both Ruby and her seductive honey trap skills which Emma didn’t even try to match, and Mulan with her fighting ability and clever moves worthy of her Disney namesake, had failed in previous attempts to bring the guy in and moved on to more productive marks before Emma took on the case. However, she was just stubborn and competitive enough to have wanted to bring in the skip who had become a thorn in the agency’s side; plus, as he kept evading them and the court date grew closer, the price for bringing him in kept climbing. Emma had been thinking just how she might enjoy the whole week off she could afford to take once she caught this scumbag as she’d sidled up next to him at the seedy bar’s pool table and batted her eyes. She’d still been thinking it even as the jerk brushed her off and left soon after, and so she’d followed him - quite stealthily, she believed - to this place later that night. Fine, if he wanted to play hard to get, she wouldn’t play gently either. She welcomed a challenge, and this avoided the awkwardness she had to extricate herself from once honey traps were sprung anyway.

Emma was realizing now, however, that maybe she had been a little too obvious, a little too preoccupied to see that her skip might have been onto her. Had he been suspicious of her from the start, and that was why he didn’t take the bait? Or, had he known what she was truly after the whole time?

The evening dark had been falling in that strange hour where one could still see outside but surroundings were obscured, shadows lengthened and a person sometimes had to squint to find her goal. She had almost hung back, after watching her mark slip in through the unmarked door of the abandoned house at the end of a rather quiet and rundown street in an outskirt suburb. But she’d spent too long tracking the loser - and she wasn’t about to admit any hesitance or unease. Clearly the guy now had either breaking and entering or squatting in his extensive repertoire, and he needed bringing in before he expanded to something more dangerous.

That was what she was telling herself after waiting an interminable twenty minutes and then climbing the rickety steps as she’d watched her perp do. She wasn’t trespassing anymore than he was, the house wasn’t in his name, and if anyone asked… here she tried the door to find it unlocked and opening as she quietly tried it - yep, she could say it was open.

Emma had just taken a steadying breath and inched the door open enough to enter, when she caught movement in her periphery. She tried to duck, wondering wildly if the culprit had been lurking behind the door, when something long and solid swung towards her head too fast for her to avoid. It felt as though the air cracked, then crumbled around her, and everything went black…

That was all she could bring up, no matter how doggedly she tried to remember what came next. After that shattering impact was simply… nothing. And with that sickening fact, Emma knew. She was dead. Some lowlife bail jumper killed her to keep himself from getting caught. Whatever she was hit with, it was done viciously enough to mean her end.

Feeling a tremble begin throughout her legs and arms, up into all her extremities, Emma tried to fight back the swell of emotion - anger, injustice, hurt, loss that clamored to the surface. If there were any justice at all, she ought to at least be free of feeling all the painful emotion she had spent her entire adult life roughly tamping down. But really, she shouldn’t even be surprised. This wasn’t the first time she’d paid the price for someone else’s wrongs - though apparently it would be the last. The blank unfairness of it was what truly got under her skin. Was she always doomed to end up this way? Sprawled out with a cracked skull in the entryway of some old, empty house, punished just for trying to make a living and her own way in the world while exacting a little much-needed justice? No one would even miss her or know she was gone until she didn’t show up to work Monday morning, ready to gloat and collect congratulatory muffins for bringing in the mark her colleagues lost.

As she passed back through the door (and no, that weird sensation of sliding without feeling past a solid barrier did not become any less upsetting or disconcerting) Emma saw the rough wooden board on the floor where her killer must have tossed it afterward and the dried blood - her own, she recognized with a shiver - that she had missed before. She didn’t want to stay there, but she felt pulled back to the upper floor where she had awakened. As if she was not meant to leave yet. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she just had nowhere else to go…

Head bowed in resignation, she mounted the stairs, but instead of going back into what had seemed a nondescript bedroom on her first glance, she moved on to the end of the hall. She seemed to have all the time in the world to rattle around this place, reflect on her loneliness and why she was still there. It couldn’t hurt to put off that depressing train of thought and find out what else was there.

Bypassing the room she’d exited earlier that morning, Emma moved toward the end of the second floor hall. Clearly the place had been empty awhile, dust tickled her nose more the more she moved throughout the house, but the color of the rich, deep wood floors, the tall ceilings and eye-catching nautical knick-knacks and framed pictures on the walls showed her the place was once well-loved and lived in with care and pride. By the time she reached the furthest door on the left, almost tucked into a corner of the house, Emma was curious in sprite of her strange situation and uncertainty.

Upon stepping in the room, Emma felt her mouth drop open once again, immediately captured by the sight of four walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, interrupted only by the large, cushioned windowseat under a huge picture window in the wall facing the door. There were books piled on the floor near the windowseat as well, as if to be in easy reach of whomever had sat there to read. Heavy, larger leatherbound tomes that appeared to be atlases or maps also rested on the impressive cherry wood desk in the room’s center. While all of this was stunning, with an air of warm invitation that had Emma blindly inching forward, none of the furnishings were what truly stunned her one more time in a past hour full of riveting surprises. Standing behind the desk, with back turned to the door and studying the wall of books with concentration was a tall, quite formally dressed, man. 

At Emma’s rather stunned noise, the figure turned to look over his shoulder, looking at her with dark arched brow. The gasp that had just escaped her was sucked rather inelegantly back up her throat. The man - well, fellow ghost apparently, as she could hazily see the spines of books lined up through his broad-shouldered form - was the most handsome specimen she had ever seen. His stunning bright blue eyes threatened to again steal the breath the she supposed she shouldn’t possess to begin with.

Wow, that changed things.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

Surprised in the large library that had stood silent and empty for so many long, uncounted days, Killian Jones couldn’t help scrutinizing the fair haired lass standing on his carpet. The strange haze around her let him know she was a spirit, much as he had been forced to accept he was himself. Still, some nearly forgotten and rusty echo of his former flirtatious nature rose to the surface and her surprised gaze clearly studied him up and down.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he murmured, a crooked smile crossing his face as he drank in her blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and generous curves in equal measure. “You aren’t some marvelous hallucination are you?”

Those sharp eyes rolled in exasperation, the stunned look finally leaving them as she shook her head and shrugged off the compliment. “Hardly,” she snorted, taking a few steps closer to him. “Apparently, I’m a ghost.”

Her words startled a huff of laughter from him with their droll humor. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he managed, “Not quite what you’d pictured, I wager?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she allowed, seeming to understand her welcome and meandering over to sit facing him on the cluttered windowseat’s edge.

Killian allowed a wry grin of his own and nod of agreement. There wasn’t much else to say, but he did understand where she was coming from. It had been rightfully upsetting, earth-shattering, and confusing when he realized he was no longer living and breathing but still wandering the rooms of his house. He was sure there had been a lot of ranting, questioning, and items thrown against the walls before he had accepted his new reality. By that measure, this lovely woman before him was handling her sudden entrance to the afterlife quite well in comparison.

She looked up to capture his eyes with her own and he found he couldn’t look away again. Her face was open, searching, almost as though she were trying to take his measure and decide if he were trustworthy. When she seemed to make a decision and smile warmly at him, Killian found himself swaying closer to her almost unconsciously, rounding the desk to stand before her as though pulled by a magnet. Dipping his head in a sort of playful bow, he offered, “Forgive me, where are my manners? I’m Killian Jones. And you are?”

She reached out her hand to shake, unaccountably grateful that she was able to feel his larger fingers clasp hers without passing through, that she somehow still felt warmth and a zing of awareness at the contact, even if none of it made any sense. “Emma…” she replied, her voice going lighter and more thready than she’d like, “Emma Swan.”

“Hmm…” he murmured lowly, a rumbling hum that she felt along her arm as he brought her hand up to place a kiss on the back of it. “And just who are you, Swan?” he mused.

Swallowing hard, she dove in with the plain truth. “Just a stubborn bail bondswoman who went after the wrong skip this time,” she sighed.

His eyes registered the sadness, the disappointment and melancholy, the resignation to this fate slowly settling over her. He wanted to say it would get better with time, but time was now a funny, nonexistent sort of thing that was impossible to measure and not much help. Instead, he took in her features with understanding and tried to offer what comfort or cheer was possible against the self-doubt, blame, and ‘what-ifs’ beginning to hover. Not only that, they zeroed in on the broken skin, dried red and the purpled bruising at her temple, clearly the killing blow that had been dealt her. His hand reached up of its own volition to touch the soft hair above the wound, a tender brush of fingertips that Emma closed her eyes and leaned into with a relieved sigh. Almost as if he knew how very rare such concern had been in her life - maybe because it had been the same for him. Whatever the reason, they lingered there, two ghosts in the golden morning light through the picture window, drinking in the first real contact either had felt in far too long.

Something linked within them in that very moment - and everything changed again.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

It would have been funny; in fact, Emma would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested - even a week before - that she would be killed on an assignment, end up a ghost, and then meet another ghost who would soon know her better than anyone had in life. And yet, within days she and Killian had shared more than she had ever allowed with co-workers, her handful of casual friends, even foster siblings when she’d still been a kid. Granted, she didn’t have much to lose, but it was more than that. She came to learn that Killian was more like her than she could have thought possible; orphaned as a child except for an adored older brother, that brother then killed in service of the British Navy just as Killian had been preparing to finish secondary school and join his elder sibling in service. Apparently the death had been some sort of accident during a routine exercise, and Killian had been awarded a healthy settlement as his brother’s only living relative, but naturally he hadn’t wanted the payout, just his only family back. Since that wasn’t the choice before him, he had taken the money, gotten out of England, and vowed to do something with it that would honor Liam and help someone else - even if it could do nothing for his own shattered heart.

That was how he’d come to befriend a frightened young mother and her infant son not long after he reached Boston. He’d been renting a motel room on a weekly basis until he figured out what he planned to do in the long run. He took a lot of long, aimless walks in the sharp, chill wind off the Atlantic, and one late afternoon he had stumbled into the public library, hoping to warm up, maybe distract himself a bit, and instead had found Belle sniffling as she attempted to read to a fussy Gideon where they were huddled in the children’s section. It hadn’t taken long for them to become friends; easily one of the best friendships he’d ever had. And in short order, Killian had known this was how he could use Liam’s money for good. He’d found a house, invited, then wheedled and cajoled, her to move them into one of the unoccupied wings and stay with him there. It was much too big for him alone he’d argued, and he needed the company, noise and bustle of even the smallest bit of family in his life. Belle had been hesitant, feeling it was too much, too good to be true, but trying to find a living and make a good, safe home for herself and her boy, while also staying unnoticed and under the radar of her wealthy and well-connected ex-husband was becoming more and more impossible. She’d assured Killian that the man had never been physically abusive, but emotionally and mentally he had left his mark. He had been a master of manipulation, had known the law and its loopholes, could afford the best attorneys money could buy and Kilian had not needed psychic abilities to see the woman was terrified he would come to haul her back - or at the very least take her little lad away from her.

That last admission had been uttered some weeks on in their acquaintance - or at least Emma thought it had been weeks, time was hard to measure when one was no longer on a clock and the days flowed from one to another in a similar stream - one night as they sat by a crackling fire in the hearth of the long unused den. Emma had shared a fair amount of her own scars by then. She had been curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, thinking that this would be the perfect occasion for a hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon, what had been her favorite way to unwind in the evening, and marveling at the good heart this man before her possessed, be it beating still or no. Not just anyone would have done so much, given so much of himself, to help a person he barely knew. Nor kindly helped a complete stranger like her adjust to her new reality beyond the pale either.

Suddenly it seemed like there was nothing else to do but to scoot across the sofa to the other end where Killian Jones sat still as a statue. The pain in his eyes, and blame she could see that he carried, broadcast over every line and shifting shadow of his face. Emma couldn’t help but bring her hand up to touch his cheek, to trace along his tightly clenched jaw as his eyes slowly dropped to follow the path of her fingertips, watching her intently as they continued to brush softly over his skin. Emma had wondered numerous times why she couldn’t physically make contact or grasp other objects but she could touch him. Why could they feel each other so strongly? Was it because they were both ghosts? On some other plane together? Or was it something else, something a less jaded person might call Fate or magic?

Whatever the reason, she was grateful for it as she held her breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth awaiting Killian’s reaction. She found every nerve alive and anxious as she watched him, caring more than she ever had about what someone else thought. Was that the key? For so many years in group homes, with foster families, even for a time homeless on the city streets, Emma had shut the world out. She had been born and grown up without the unconditional love and care all people should know, and the natural childish illusions about people’s selfishness or the world’s indifference had been stripped away far too early. Life had turned its back on her, and she had done the same in return. She had closed herself off from emotion and learned all too well that putting her trust in others made it easy to get hurt.

But now, in this old house, with this wonderful, vulnerable spirit before her - all the feelings she had shut off for so long were breaking free. She couldn’t hold them back, and she didn’t want to. She couldn’t really be harmed, wasn’t hustling to get by, and maybe that allowed the fear to recede enough to peak over the top of her walls. Maybe it was just that - despite only knowing him for a short time - she had never met anyone like Killian Jones when she was living. If only she had, she wouldn’t have been lost for so long.

He was blinking away a tear when her focus turned back to his face in that moment. Smiling back with a tiny, empathetic quirk to her lips, Emma brushed the escaped droplet from his skin, whispering, “He found them, didn’t he? Her ex?  Even though you tried to keep them hidden…”

Killian’s head of thick, dark hair bowed, his eyes falling to their laps instead of holding hers. Running her fingers through the coarse strands, Emma ached to comfort him, to somehow lessen the weight he had lost hope of lightening. Whatever had occurred, it couldn’t have been his fault. He had only tried to give them shelter.

His voice was muffled when his forehead had come to rest on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, cradling him closer in an embrace more binding and intimate than any she had ever experienced. “I don’t know for certain, Swan,” he sighed, his words rough and coming forth in choppy fragments. “It has always seemed so…  Both being expats, Belle and I came to enjoy tea… in the afternoons… I had come home early that day...had a new toy for her Gideon...and I - I couldn’t wait to show it to him. ...When I walked through the front door… I knew immediately….something was wrong… too quiet.. I walked into the kitchen… and the table was all set for tea.  But the plate of biscuits was… strewn across the table… broken crumbs everywhere… and her - her favorite teacup was shattered on the floor…”

Emma tried to take in the devastation he must have felt, the panic and helplessness, all while making soothing noises, almost sorry she’d asked him as the story was wrung from his lips bit by bit. She kept holding him, hoping that her hand stroking over his back and her fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck could give some solace. She had never longed to fix someone else’s hurt more than her own. It was frightening in the desire’s intensity, but all she could do was hang on.

“I failed them both…” Killian husked, his voice even more soft and ragged than before. “Of course… I reported them missing… but the case came to nothing… no leads turned up.  He got to them… just as she feared... “

She wished she could tell him otherwise. Her own unshed tears stung in her throat - both for the poor woman and little boy she felt as if she knew through Killian’s stories, and for his pain. Her chest ached with the anguish he had harbored for so long, feeling it as if it were her own. If she could take his pain onto herself and give him peace at last, she would do it without hesitation.

As if in response to her thought and the desire to lend her strength, Emma saw a starling light, nearly blinding her as it appeared over Killian’s shoulder.  She didn’t pull away, but she squinted trying to understand what had materialized from thin air right in front of her. It looked like...yes, it was a door. There, where an archway normally lead from the den to the kitchen, was a simple grey door, but for the brilliant white light emanating from around its edges. It couldn’t be ignored for all its radiance, and it almost seemed to beckon her near, drawing her in.

Her eyes widening, Emma forced herself to turn away, breathing in Killian’s scent from against his neck, hoping that the masculine, spicy aroma he somehow still carried, even in his ethereal state, would reel her in as it had before. She knew what must be making itself known before her, and she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what it meant.

Up until that very second, she would have sworn she wanted that door to appear, to pass through it and leave the cold bitterness of Earth behind. She wanted that door opening up for her to move on, but she just as surely wouldn’t leave Killian as she had been left so many times. She couldn’t abandon him.

For the first time Emma could remember, she didn’t want to change the way things were.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

She shouldn’t have thought the open door would escape Killian’s attention. The man was ridiculously intuitive and seemed to read her like the pages of a favorite book. She had not said a word, had turned back to him, focused on the muscle in his jaw working as he brought his emotions back under control, and managed to ignore the blatant signal beckoning to her until the glow dimmed and the door faded back out of existence. The archway between kitchen and den was just a curve of plaster and paint once more.

But as days passed, Emma coudn’t help worrying occasionally in unguarded moments if a person only got one door. Had she missed her only chance to move on? It wasn’t that she never wanted her peace and rest, or to know what was waiting on the other side. Yet, she couldn’t truly regret her decision either if the alternative had been leaving Killian alone, even if the consequences did trouble her mind.

So she wasn’t sure how Killian had figured it out the morning she came down the stairs to find him already in the kitchen gazing out the window over the sink and bathed in the rising sunshine. Maybe the man was genuinely able to read her mind. He was always able to tell when she entered a room, she conceded as he turned to face her, even before she stepped from the last stair. She felt him the moment he drew near her as well: an awareness, a prickling along her skin, the buzzing sensation of need and desire she had always resisted in life electrified by his presence. Maybe there was no hiding when someone was that close.

With the window and the sunrise at his back, Killian seemed almost outlined by a halo of gold. He came to stand at the counter facing her, and Emma moved to meet him, smiling easily. “Morning,” she offered in greeting, still fighting years’ worth of habitual impulses to start brewing coffee and digging throught he cupboards for cereal - sustenance that she no longer needed.

“Swan,” he’d spoken gently, calmly, but in a way that drew her up and demanded her focus. Reaching out his own larger hand to cover hers where it rested on the countertop, he went right to the heart of the matter. “Emma… what were you thinking?”

She shrugged, trying not to meet his eyes fully as she pretended she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” she asked blankly.

He sighed, that apologetic depth of sorrow in his eyes making her swallow hard when he spoke again. “You saw the light at the end of the tunnel, didn’t you? Your door appeared… The evening we spoke of Belle and Gideon’s disappearance…” He paused, spearing her with the intense blue of his gaze and not allowing her to look away. He cupped her chin between his thumbe and forefinger, stroking along her cheek as he did so, the expression on his face begging her to help him understand. “Why didn’t you step through, Love… and go on to your reward?”

The worry and fear on his unfairly beautiful face showed that he already new exactly why she hadn’t, but he deserved the truth. Emma couldn’t give him anything less. Placing her hands over his, squeezing tightly with feeling, she leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Killian, don’t ask question you already know the answers to,” she breathed shakily, trying to keep the tremble from her voice long enough to speak. “You must know, surely… it was you.”

His head back as he heaved a deep, rattling breath - breaking away from her as he did so. “I hoped I was wrong,” he admitted. “I don’t want to the reason. You shouldn’t be held back from your paradise because of me.”

For a moment his eyes wouldn’t meet hers as he struggled to regain control of himself. Then, he reached out to wipe the pad of his thumb over her cheek and brush the solitary tear she’d shed away. Not letting him have an out, Emma caught his eye once more. “Paradise, huh?” she tried to tease weakly, desperate to make him smile. He was breaking her heart. “You think an awful lot of me, Buddy. We both know I was no saint.”

A huff of air escaped him that might have been a disgruntled laugh in spite of himself, but he pulled her into him, almost clinging to her for several long minutes before finally breathing in her ear, “Nonsense, Emma. You were meant to be an angel. Don’t give up your peace on account of me.”

She hugged him back, but made no such promise. They would have to disagree on that, and he knew it too. They were both too stubborn to change their minds, so days went on and they went back to almost-normal without speaking of it again. Emma simply had to hope he understood. She didn’t want to argue with Killian, or to ignore his wishes. And she did want to go through her door as well, but when the time was right. She realized now that would have to be when they could both go throught it together.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

It had been March when she’d met her fate in the quiet old house, and she and Killian had drifted through the spring and summer and early autumn, growing ever closer to each other. They had sat on the porch for long hours talking without getting too hot or worrying about bug bites or sunburn; spent evenings curled together under one quilt in the large windowseat of the library watching lightning flash across the sky and thunder roll on August nights. As September came, they snuggled under the comforter on the bed, her head resting on his chest, her ear over his heart as though she could still heart its beat. If she had thought before that she couldn’t leave him, there was no way she could even imagine it again.

There was a chill in the air the September afternoon a thick, cream-colored envelope landed on the front porch, addressed with Killian’s name and a Ms. Belle French scrawled in top left corner. Emma heard the soft sound of the thick paper landing on the proch slats, and didn stop to question how it had gotten there, why the ghost resident of an supposed abandoned house was receiving mail again, but had hurried to where Killian reading in the library, letter in hand.

A more lovely autumn day had never been than when a slant of later afternoon sun lit Killian’s face as he scanned the letter’s contents, a smile dawning over his countenance as if he coudn’t believe the words before him on the page. “They’re alright,” he murmured, half to himself and half to her. “They got away… thought I should know.”  His eyes continued to skim over the handwritten lines quickly, but his beckoned her close, and stunned smile on his face and light in his eyes that did Emma’s heart good. She could see the guilt and the hurt he had carried lifting from his shoulders with each passing second as she came to perch on the corner of the desk at his elbow.  “They didn’t want me to have to harbor a secret… just missed the people who trashed the house that day, and didn’t want to continue putting me in danger…”

He shook his head in disbelief and then stood to sweep her up in his arms, spinning her around as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe, finally, he didn’t.

It was only as Killian set her back on her feet again, as he picked up her hand to kiss the back of it tenderly, and she hummed in contentment, swaying closer to him that a warm inviting light touched the side of both their faces. Turning as one, Emma recognized the sight that had graced her vision once before, but Kiliian’s eyes widened before turning to hers.  “Is that…?” he breathed, hope and uncertainty and awe blending in the question as it trailed off on his lips. 

She nodded, no words coming to her that she could speak past the lump in her throat.

“Well, then, Swan,” he smiled with the beauty and joy of a man whose heart was free at last. “What do you say we embark on a new adventure?”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” she said with a certainty she felt to the bottom of her soul. Clutching his fingers in her own tightly, she walked with him toward the door wreathed in light that had appeared in middle of the bookshelf. As long as she didn’t have to let go of Killian’s hand.

Tagging: @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @hollyethecurious​ @artistic-writer​ @jennjenn615​ @gingerchangeling​ @therooksshiningknight​ @spartanguard​ @drowned-dreamer​ @winterbaby89​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @searchingwardrobes​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @thislassishooked​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @lfh1226-linda​ @thisonesatellite​ @shireness-says​ @profdanglaisstuff​ 

[artistic-writer]

Well, here it is!  My @cssns artwork to accompany the WONDERFUL words of @shardminds!!! Go give her story some love!

‘There’s nothing for him here.

They ride onwards.

Killian slows his steed to a gentle trot as soon as they cross the border into Temeria, a silent apology in the calm stroke of his palm behind Smee’s ears.‘

silver for monsters by @shardminds

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

The Wolf and the Savior - fic by @teamhook A Lost Girl-inspired CS AU for @cssns 2020

Loosely inspired by an episode of Lost Girl...

When danger looms over Emma Swan, Killian Jones offers to give up a major part of himself in exchange for her safety, but the Norn has different ideas for their deal and he may have to relinquish more than he’d planned. What is the Norn scheming, and what consequences will Killian face for the decisions he makes?

Fic links to be added upon posting; check original post for updates

EEP! Alma’s fic is so amazing you guys omg, I can’t wait for everyone to get to read it! You don’t have to be familiar with the Lost Girl episode to read and follow the story (I wasn’t). It’s so interesting and suspenseful and I’m so excited to see what happens next!

[eastwesthomeisbest]

"Fear Me Or Love Me... It's All The Same"

(Captain Swan Vampire AU)

..............................................................................................

@cssns @kmomof4

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

A Song of Sin and Desire (1/?)

Summary: It's her voice that captures him first, that siren song he cannot forget. Centuries later, he's still looking for that voice, for the woman it belongs to, and against all odds, he won't give up. He's the Devil, after all.

It's the darkness inside him that lures her to him, a force ready to consume her.

That warning, that omen, it means nothing to her now that she's found him, now that she can't, that she doesn't want to escape him, not even when strange forces are working in the dark to bring hell on earth and destroy life as she knows it.

But what they don't tell you in children's books, is that mermaids are not meek creatures. When they hunt, they hunt to kill.

A/N: Whew, another story? Yup! You know me, I can’t stay away from the beauty that is @cssns​ and those lovely ladies ♥ This year, I have to thank the amazing @carpedzem for the prompt that set things into motion, and this fic wouldn’t be what it is set to be without @shardminds and her yelling the plot right along with me. Of course, all the people in the discord chat who supported me are to thank for this fic, and I can’t absolutely forget @demisexualemmaswan for her beta skills and @artistic-writer for the AMAZING art that will be posted in a while, and y’all, it’s bloody fantastic.

This fic is somehow a Lucifer AU (and the fact that s5A will come out tomorrow is not lost on me!) but with a touch of more supernatural related stuff, which will come into play in the future chapters. It will be E rated for sexual content and a bit of violence - and really, the title speaks for itself, but I know how much triggers and warnings are important.

I hope you enjoy ♥

Read on ao3

The Caribbean Sea, 1718

Warm sunlight washed upon her, the scales of her tail glittering, capturing the attention of every sailor who had the luck to cast his eyes upon her figure.

The creature smirked, watching the sun behind her eyelids, but her grin faded quickly.

Truth to be told, unlike the majority of her sisters, this particular siren didn’t enjoy killing humans or any other creature. Sometimes, however, she did enjoy toying with them, especially whenever they insulted her or were extremely ruthless. After all this time, she could recognize them by their odor, they smelled just like death, rotten to the core.

The fragile-looking yet sharp tips of her fins brushed the water surface, disturbing it, desperately trying to hunt away her boredom.

She longed for the night, just after the sunset, when the sky was a myriad of colours still and she allowed herself to wrap the bracelet around her wrist and her tail to become human legs.

Against her own nature, this mermaid loved to mingle with human beings and other creatures, never one to be confined to the sea, no matter how much she loved and needed it. She’d always been one to defy the rules, but it had been her voice the main reason she’d first come in contact with other creatures.

The very first one she attracted, many eons ago, had been a woman with the skin of a lizard and the tongue of a snake - both figuratively and not. Nimue was her name, but it wasn’t her spirit that ruled her mind.

Scared, the mermaid had swam away as if the Leviathan itself was chasing her. Never before had she seen such darkness, and it’d scared her so much she stopped singing for weeks, worrying her clan, for sirens need to sing as much as a human being needs to breathe.

But not all the creatures she attracted were foes. Many had become her friends, strange as it was. Alas, said friends were now occupied elsewhere.

Different from her clan, she missed her friends and would never find their presence annoying. Her so-called sisters, on the other hand, were extremely stubborn, some more lethal than others, even, which was the main reason why they disagreed pretty much on everything and what pushed Emma to search other people's company.

Given how clans were built, she couldn't just leave it, not even if she wanted to: not only the leader of the clan wasn't easy to get along with, but a mermaid needed to stay close to her kin.

Emma, however, was nothing if not resourceful, and she had, after all, thought about a plan to get away safely.

It had been the story of a siren living in the waters north of Denmark to plant the seeds of this insane idea.

Well, insane for any other mermaid, of course. It had taken her decades to find the magical bracelet, having to stop for long periods of time, even, so she wouldn’t arise any suspicion. At last, it was her voice that allowed her to bargain with a witch for key information. And now, the bracelet was her most precious possession.

True, the siren she’d heard of traded her life in the sea for love, something Emma had never experienced, but Emma was trading it for her own freedom and happiness. Both her reasons and the infamous redhead’s were valid.

Soon, Emma sighed to herself, a shiver of excitement running down her spine.

Many were the years she’d spent walking among humans, her first attempts at standing quite comical. At first, when she didn’t know how to act, trying to copy what she saw other humans do, the sea had been her refuge from many wrongdoers. She might not know much about human beings, but she knew how the world went, how people could be good, but also bad.

Good and evil were two concepts she was familiar with, being a siren didn’t prevent sirens from acting either way. Mostly, her kin was conceived as evil creatures luring men to their death, which, admittedly, was true, and so they were evil, but among them, there were sirens with a conscience, sirens who didn’t want to cause people to die just because it was their nature.

Emma wanted to see the world, she wanted to be free of the idea that she was evil. For years, as she wandered around the streets of the Caribbean islands, mingling with the folk and singing for them in taverns, she had come to know many people, people who treated her well and with respect, something she rarely experienced in her clan.

Given her immortal life, Emma knew she couldn’t find a family for herself, but she could still create bonds of friendship with someone, balancing her need to be included in a clan with her desire to be free. If anything, having even just one friend had shown her what being treated well, what being loved meant.

Her first lover had been a pirate.

She didn’t fall for him for his beauty or anything, she didn’t fall at all, but she still loved him. He’d been gentle, rough, lustful and romantic, sometimes all at once. Charles Vane had never treated her bad, the agreement that they would seek comfort in one another and nothing more always respected by both of them. Oh, he loved her, aye, but his heart belonged to another, yet Emma still took what he had to offer her, for it was enough for her. In a way, though, part of his heart would always belong to her, as hers would him.

He became part of the reason why she wanted to leave: there were good men among those her kin killed, there were young boys, girls disguised as men, and yet no one in her clan was remorseful, shrugging it off and blaming their nature. How could such an intelligent species be so stupid?

Emma sighed, rubbing her cheek on the hard rock, inhaling the scent of salt as the sun warmed her skin, making it itch as the seawater evaporated. She hummed in delight, soaking in the warmth of the sun and the stone, her tail curling just beneath the water in bliss.

Unless they were hunting, the life of a siren was pretty boring. Oh, right, unless they were part of royalty or loved politics. There were supernatural beings all over the world, and though they were being kept a secret from mere human beings, territories had to be defined and peace had to be kept. Besides, there were many creatures who loved to, hmm, mingle.

Emma had heard of places where vampires drank fae’s blood, where witches and warlocks cast spells on willing creatures to heighten their pleasure. The memory of those whispers brought a blush to her cheeks.

Truth to be told, aside from Charles, she’d never had another lover. Many had tried to lure her into the inn’s beds, but she’d never fallen for it, always wanting more from a man, something only her pirate had been able to give her. More than, she wanted to experience what the stories were all about, what a vampire could do to her while her blood filled his mouth or what new sensations a warlock could make her feel. And wolves, hmm, wolves were just so passionate Emma had heard murmurs that made her tremble.

A trembling sigh fell from her lips. She licked them, finding them dry, her mouth parched, throat itching with the need to sing.

Tracing the valleys of the rock, she started humming, the melody filling the air immediately, irresistible to her ears as well. Many creatures had pointed out how captivating her voice was, how they found themselves brought to her knees in front of her, completely at her mercy.

At least, this only counted for those who didn’t want to actually capture her voice for some spell or just capture her.

Admittedly, she’d been lucky to escape every time, especially that first time, when Nimue manifested herself.

Her voice wavered at the memory. Emma squeezed her eyes, pouring more of her own magic in the song, the melody changing from a passionate one to one yearning for freedom, freedom from darkness and the binds of her kind.

The last note had yet to create a ripple on the water that a clapping sound reached her ears.

Twisting on the spot, she hissed at the newcomer. Whoever it was, she wouldn’t be able to fight them above water, but she could distract them long enough to escape. It was a coward move, but in the water, only the fastest one to escape survived if they couldn’t face the beasts lurking in the darkness of the abyss.

Her green eyes focused on the man standing ankles deep in the water, waves lapping at his calves, soaking his breeches. He was tall, his shoulders broad, a trait that was enhanced by the way he crossed strong arms over his chest.

Warrior, that was what Emma saw oozing from him, the innate strength of a warrior, but more. Bright blue eyes shone beneath the sun, the rays casting a glow around his entire figure, almost like… like a halo.

Emma blinked in surprise, relaxing just a touch. The being in front of her very eyes might be an angel - she wasn’t completely sure since she’d never met one, but his power… - but it didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat.

They stared at one another for interminable minutes, the only noises the gentle rolling of the waves upon the nearby shore and Emma’s slowly calming breath. Deep within her, Emma knew she couldn’t escape him, not if what they said about them, that they were capable of slowing time, was real. She gulped, swallowing her rising interest in him, in the unknown, and the increasing want to see his wings.

Clearly, after all these years, saltwater was affecting her brain.

Emma raised her chin, sharp teeth still bared in a snarl. Not the prettiest view, but she’d never been one to care more about appearances than her own life.

«No need to be so on edge, my lady.»

Her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. «It is not every day that an angel interrupts a siren’s song.» While she sounded sweet, she felt anything but toward the being in front of her.

He conceded a small smile of his own, lips twitching in amusement. «My apologies,» the stranger told her, and she did recognize a tiny bit of apology in his voice. Mostly, there was annoyance, amusement and a faint note of wariness. Why that was, though, she did not know.

Squinting, Emma tilted her head to the side, her long, sun-dried hair covering her bare breasts. It was common for sirens to wear nothing to hide their upper bodies, they weren’t shy; besides, it helped them with the task of luring men to their death.

Still, Emma wasn’t fond of baring herself to anyone who wasn’t her lover. Charles had treated her like a goddess, and what was more important, he’d never complimented her so she would fall into his bed; the man never spoke lies, not to her. A siren’s ability didn’t stop to their own voice, but they could hear what most wouldn’t, and so they were capable of knowing when a person was lying.

«May I know why would an angel-»

«Archangel, actually.»

Emma pursed her lips in a tight line, her patience wearing thin, all formalities lost. «Why are you here?» And now it had dissolved like smoke.

The angel tilted his head, his lips twitching again. «You have a marvelous voice,» he began, his flattery making Emma arch her brow.

«Many do tell me so, although they compare it to an angel’s song.» Emma smiled sweetly up at him, blinking almost seductively. «Do you sing, archangel? Perhaps with the aid of a harp?»

Teasing a mystical creature? Emma truly had a death wish.

The smile broke on the angel’s face, and he dropped his head, laughing to himself. His chuckle was warm, lovely even. Angelic, her mind supplied, at which she rolled her eyes at herself. There was no denying it, though: sirens only dreamt to have such a laugh. True, theirs were enchanting, but nothing compared to what she’d just heard.

«I’m afraid I don’t know how to play a harp. Perhaps one of my sisters, but I wouldn’t risk enraging her, she’s quite… susceptible.»

Emma tilted her head, fins swishing in the shallow water. «Unlike you?»

«After millennia, I have learned how to be patient when faced with challenges such as yourself.»

She lifted her chin, curiosity winning over the need to taunt the archangel. «And why would I be a challenge? Unless my entire kin is a threat to someone, that is. It’s nice of you to warn me before you end my existence.»

Joking about her imminent death? Perhaps she’d spent too much time around Charles and pirates in general.

Beneath the creature’s blazing blue eyes, Emma took a shaky breath, nails as sharp as broken shells digging into the rock at her sides, the stone giving in under her attack. This was no darkness-ruled witch, nor a horny faun, no. This was a predator in disguise, his human vessel a way not to be noticed among simple humans. Legends talked of giant bodies of light, some talking about them eclipsing the sun itself, others spoke about how a million eyes looked down upon them from the feathers adorning their wings, but Emma doubted those stories to be true, for nobody ever looked at an angel and lived to tell the story.

«I wish I could say you are no threat to me or the whole world, but I’d be lying, and if there’s something I don’t tolerate, is lies. As for your kin, I may not agree with their murderous ways, but alas I’m not here to change the balance of the world, as it is not in my power, nor it is my duty to do so.»

Against her better judgement, Emma was… fascinated.

Since she’d first discovered there were different beings other than humans and sirens, Emma had wanted to learn more about them, about their magic and characteristics. Wielders of magic were the most fascinating, in her modest opinion, for they were capable of conjuring anything out of thin air. Or rather, not quite, as the many who’d crossed her path had taught her, but the principle remained the same, as did the effect they had on her.

The few vampires she met had requested a taste of her blood, but she knew better than give into their desires, although Emma wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea now. After all, it had been a good fifty years since they last propositioned to her.

Werewolves were even more rare to come in contact with, and they usually didn’t ask anything from her other than a song, but one of them had given her the most beautiful compliment ever.

«Not even the moon can even compare with the call of your voice.»

It still sent tingles traveling down her tail.

Mostly, she attracted faes of every sort and element, even those fueled by fire.

Emma shook her head. «I beg your pardon, but what do the likes of you want with me?»

The archangel moved his shoulder as if he were shrugging, but it was different, as if the human dress he’d chosen for himself was a bit too tight. Differently from common belief, they didn’t inhabit actual human beings, but they used their power to assume human-like features.

Again, Emma had to swallow the question that was bubbling up inside her, the intense need to know how they chose which characteristic they wanted for themselves almost slipping past her lips.

«I was sent here to warn you, Emma.»

The tone he used didn’t promise anything good; it had Emma on edge, her most basic instincts telling her to swim as fast as she could as far away as possible, even knowing that he would find her.

Biting her cheek until she tasted blood, Emma narrowed her eyes slightly, and tilted her head.

The angel mirrored her position, as if he were trying to learn more about how humans acted, those little gestures that couldn’t be taught. In that moment, Emma realized that even if he might appear human, he wasn’t, not even in the slightest, and she didn’t want to know how much that difference extended to feelings or sense of honor.

«You were?»

A warning from a celestial being… Emma swallowed, her throat strangely dry.

Her mind began to wander. Was it because of the deaths, because her kin killed too many humans? Then why come to her? Why not speak to her leader? It didn’t make any sense, and that scared her even more.

«I’ve been observing you for a while, your rendezvous with other creatures didn’t go unnoticed.»

At that, Emma raised her eyebrows and snorted. «So you’ve descended from Heaven-»

«The Silver City.»

Emma rolled her eyes. «From the Silver City to chastise me over encounters with other supernatural beings, some of which are my friends?»

A grimace appeared on his handsome face. Despite his unnerving attitude, Emma couldn’t deny how fascinating he was. Or at least, how fascinating his human dress was. Uh.

«I apologize, my lady, poor choice of words.»

If possible, her eyebrows rose even closer to her hairline. Is that so?

Clearly uncomfortable with the situation, the angel shifted his weight from one leg to another. «Differently from your kin, you’ve attracted many creatures, not only humans, and definitely not for evil purposes. In fact, I don’t even believe you do that on purpose.»

Emma couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. «I do not know how old you are, darling, but I’ve never harmed someone who didn’t deserve it.»

«Again, you’ve misinterpreted my words.»

A hiss escaped her, teeth clicking together and eyes storming. «Then stop talking in riddles, angel. My patience is wearing thin.»

Barely suppressed rage rippled beneath his features; clearly, he wasn’t very much patient either. Fear engulfed Emma, but she forced herself to keep her brave mask on. Too easily she forgot how powerful an angel was.

He took a step forward, the water not even moving. Emma gulped, reminded once again that he wasn’t a mere supernatural being. «How many times have you been visited by creatures filled with darkness? How many have asked for your voice, for your power? Not for your blood or for a night between your thighs, but for what makes you so unique. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you, love?»

Utter terror settled deep inside her bones. She remembered well, Nimue’s darkness almost managing to catch her.

She licked her dry lips. «Aye, I do.»

«Then you know what dangers you might encounter, Emma.» His voice seemed to increase volume with every word, the sound reverberating through her. «I’ve been sent here to tell you to be careful with your voice. There are more dangerous evils lurking in the darkness than a sorceress whose soul has been sold to gain power. Your beauty and the vastity of the ocean won’t always help you.» As he spoke, he moved until the fabric of his breeches brushed the scales of her tail; every attempt to shy away from the touch was futile. He bent forward, blue eyes blazing with fire - or was it his true essence? «Mark my words, Emma, evil will find you again, and pray my Father that you’ll be able to escape its clutches once again.»

In a blink, he was gone.

The rush of the waves came back to her ears, their sound almost deafening. Emma let out a trembling breath, tears pooling in her eyes as her chest heaved with anxiety.

A fish swam right next where the fins of her tail rested beneath the water, making her flinch.

Gods, she whimpered to herself, worrying her lower lip until she tasted blood.

The angel’s words echoed in her mind, increasing her fear. She wished he’d not come at all, that he’d let her bask in her ignorance until the darkness came, for not even the water felt safe now.

[mariakov81]

Here is my art for the chapter 1 of the story "Labors of love" by amazing @lovelivingmydreams as a part of @cssns event! Thank you for organising it!

[lovelivingmydreams]

You didn't think I'd forgotten you all did you?

Next instalment for @cssns

Chapter 7:the market!

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: the sword and the heart

and the last but certainly not the least of what i've been calling the masha collection, after the incredible inspiration that is @mariakov81 and her support and talent and fandom: The Sword and the Heart.

full season 5 divergence written for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020 (@cssns) by me and by @thisonesatellite.

half-letter folio--binding method: coptic covers with coptic/french link stitch combination. black thread for the ~aesthetic~

paper: neenah cougar cream vellum 70# text weight covers: giclee print on hahnemuhle william turner 310 gsm, sealed with archival modpodge

title page by @mariakov81 (hand drawn pen and ink) title graphics by me, using art from medesulda cover calligraphy by @thisonesatellite

[cssns]

And It’s TIME!!!!

Registration for CSSNS20 is now OPEN.

The registration window is January 19 through 11:59 PM CST February 1

This year we have separate registration forms for our Artists and Authors

You can find the Artist form HERE

You can find the Author form HERE

As well as at the top of the blog if you’re on a computer

There is an option to sign up as a beta on both forms, and if you want to sign up as just a beta, please reach out to @winterbaby89​​​​ 

Want to join us on Discord, find it HERE

[ohmightydevviepuu]

@thisonesatellite

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

Vampire!CS AU for @cssns 2020

Hush, hush, the world is quiet Hush, hush we both can't fight it It's us that made this mess Why can't you understand? Whoa, I won't sleep tonight

Take a  b i t e  of my heart tonight (x)

[eastwesthomeisbest]

"I'm Your Darkest Dream"

(Captain Swan Demon AU)

I will tell you lies

I'll crawl inside your mind

Grab hold of your eyes

I will make you mine

And Im gonna take my time...

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@cssns @kmomof4

[snowbellewells]

@hollyethecurious My goodness! This was all kinds of delicious fun to read, and I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long. I loved so many of the elements you wove into it and how you characterized both Emma and Killian. Not only that, but you somehow grounded it in the feeling of a natural, real world attraction and budding relationship, even as Killian’s supernatural nature is never far from mind.

He is perfectly cast as Emma’s teaching assistant in the story! I can absolutely see him being educated, studious and serious about learning, but with that seductive, dangerous edge as well. It’s pretty much irresistible (as Emma discovers!) I also loved the back and forth flirtatious challenge they have going on between them. It didn’t ever feel like a question of “if” they would crash together, but “when” and who would give in first.

My favorite part though was her empathetic reaction when Killian shared what had happened to him long ago. The way she drew him into her arms and aches to comfort him just got me right in the heart! ❤️ So well done!! (And it really shows how much deeper their connection has gone than the physical.)

So well done- through and through!! Thanks for sharing it with us!!!

CS AU: The Craving in Between (1/1)

Summary: Emma shivered at the biting wind whipping through the street as she crossed from one alley to the next, the tight, thin dress beneath her jacket doing little to help keep her warm. She’d chosen it earlier that night hoping to impress a certain teaching assistant from one of the classes she and Neal shared. Killian Jones. A doctoral candidate several years her senior, and super hot to boot, Emma couldn’t deny she’d initially started flirting with him just to get under Neal’s skin, but as the semester went on and her overtures were met with equally witty and flirtatious banter, Emma had to admit there was something about Killian Jones that drew her to him.

Emma rolled her eyes, and not some mystical, mumbo jumbo, supernatural bullshit. A scoff left her lungs, hanging before her in a mist of cold sarcasm as she recalled her ex’s words warning that Jones wasn’t human. Shaking her head, Emma thought to herself, “Well, what the hell is he then, Neal?”

Emma was about to find out.

A/N: This fic is inspired by a scene I read in The Vampire Diaries books over 20 years ago. You’ll see it reimagined later in the fic. I am also borrowing elements of the lore TVD uses, but this is NOT a Vampire Diaries AU.

I had originally considered posting this as a two shot, but couldn’t find a place to separate it that I was happy with, so you get to read the thing in its entirety. Much love to @kmomof4​​ and @artistic-writer​​ for their beta services. Also, I cannot flail enough over @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​​ art! Please go give Kayla some love, she absolutely deserves it! Finally, thank you to the @cssns​​ mods for holding this event again. I have loved being a part of it over the last few years!

Rated M / ~17,500 words / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee

~/~

The bar was its usual self, brimming with wall to wall co-eds blowing off steam at the end of a long week that had them hurtling towards winter finals. Emma Swan sat perched on a barstool, on display in a red dress that highlighted all of her assets. A few of her male classmates had attempted to garner her attention, but she was too preoccupied to pay them much heed.

It didn’t stop them from continuing their efforts though.

“He isn’t here,” Emma’s ex, Neal, told her after she spent more time looking around the bar in search of a certain pair of vivid blue eyes, auburn scruffed jawline, and artfully mussed dark hair than paying any attention to whatever he was saying to her.

“Who?” Emma asked with an air of innocence, sipping her drink then snapping her attention to the door as it opened, revealing… not him.

“Jones,” Neal grit out. “That’s who you’re all dressed up for, right? You, and every other pathetically simple-minded girl at this university.”

“Excuse you?” Emma’s eyes swung back to his, her hand clenching around her glass while she decided whether or not to hurl its contents into his face.

His expression gave her pause. It wasn’t exactly remorse, more like he was steeling his resolve to say something.

“Look, Emma. It isn’t your fault,” he said, leaning in so he wouldn’t be overheard by those around him. “Jones has this… ability. He can make people feel things, do things, they wouldn’t otherwise do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s not… he’s not what you think he is.”

“A teaching assistant?”

“No,” Neal whispered harshly, flicking his eyes around them quickly before coming even closer to whisper into her ear. “Human. Jones isn’t human.”

Emma couldn’t help the snorted laugh escaping her.

“I’m serious!” Neal hissed, grabbing her wrist in a tight grip. “My father told me all about him. Emma, the man is dangerous. I’ve seen you flirting with him, and I’m telling you to be careful. Don’t go drawing his attention.”

Emma yanked her arm away from him, every bit of humor gone from her mood. “We’ve been over and done with for over a year, Neal. You don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t flirt with.” She stood and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, forcing her arms into the sleeves with irritated force. “And I’m not the only one who’s been flirting,” she stated smugly. “I’ve already got the man’s attention, and that’s made you jealous. You’re the pathetic one, Neal. Not me.”

Enraged, Emma exited the bar, pulling her jacket tightly around her to ward off the brisk night air. Knowing Neal would be in hot pursuit, she darted around the corner that led back to the off-campus home she shared with three other housemates, planning to take a shortcut down the alleyways.

Her heels clipped along the pavement, snapping a terse rhythm as Emma’s mood continued to sour. Stupid Neal and his stupid jealousy. She hadn’t been the one to end their relationship at the end of sophomore year. Finding him in bed with another girl had done that quite effectively. He was lucky she was willing to let him back into her good graces at all, so they could at least be civil with one another as they finished out their courses while pursuing the same degree.

She wasn’t feeling too gracious towards him right now, though.

Emma shivered at the biting wind whipping through the street as she crossed from one alley to the next, the tight, thin dress beneath her jacket doing little to help keep her warm. She’d chosen it earlier that night hoping to impress a certain teaching assistant from one of the classes she and Neal shared. Killian Jones. A doctoral candidate several years her senior, and super hot to boot, Emma couldn’t deny she’d initially started flirting with him just to get under Neal’s skin, but as the semester went on and her overtures were met with equally witty and flirtatious banter, Emma had to admit there was something about Killian Jones that drew her to him.

Emma rolled her eyes, and not some mystical, mumbo jumbo, supernatural bullshit. Another scoff left her lungs, hanging before her in a mist of cold sarcasm. Not human. She shook her head. Well, what the hell is he then, Neal? She was almost curious to know what her ex thought Jones was. Almost.

Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Emma knew Killian lived close to campus, something her stalker-esque housemate, Ruby, had discovered earlier in the year. If he wasn’t at the bar she’d been staking out in the hopes of running into him, then he might be working late with one of the professors he assisted. She could always head that way on the off chance of running into him on the quad.

Wow, Emma. Desperate much?

Another huff puffed past her lips. Yeah, she wasn’t going to wander around campus in the freezing cold just to catch a glimpse of him. She was not one of the pathetic, simple-minded girls Neal accused her of being. In fact, she was going to head home and not think about Killian Jones for the rest of the evening.

Too bad the evening had other plans.

Keep reading

[cssns]

Ok, sorry y’all! NOW here’s the monthly roundup for September!

Have y’all enjoyed all the INCREDIBLE updates we got last month? I know I did!! Please be sure to give our authors and artists all the love for all their hard work!!! And have a look at the end of the post for a VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!! And now, without further ado, here we gooooooooo!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

@snowbellewells completed A Story Told at Last. Rated T. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Historical Literature Professor Henry Mills has the chance of a lifetime before him. He might finally uncover the truth of a folktale that has intrigued him for years. But, when the whole story comes to light, will he be able to accept the story that needs to be told?

@let-it-raines completed Not Your (Soul)Mate. Rated M. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

@courtorderedcake posted Roses, a CS rendering of the classic fairytale Tam Lin. Rated E. Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

A CS retelling of Tam Lin, the classic fairytale.

Liberties taken. Magic and Fae BS in play.

@teamhook posted Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star). Not rated. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

It is said that evil is not born but made. This is how an act of kindness is twisted into a story about revenge. Emma and Killian are childhood friends until a tragedy separates them will another reunite them.

From last years event, @kymbersmith-90 updated Divine Intervention. Rated E. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Brothers Liam and Killian Jones are on the hunt for their father, Brennan Jones, who has gone missing in his hunt for the supernatural creature that killed their mother. But along the way, the brothers discover that the supernatural world is much bigger than they could ever have imagined.

And someone else has big plans for one of them.

@thejollyroger-writer completed What Happened in Berkshire. Rated G. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

When Emma’s boyfriend leaves her for the woman he’s been cheating with, she accepts an offer from her hospital to move to England. While she is out celebrating her thirtieth birthday with her friends before they head back to America, she drunkenly kisses the statue of Captain Hook in front of Eton College, and he comes to life. Together, he and Emma try to figure out what this curse means for them by searching for the witch that cursed him in the first place — are they really True Love, as he wants to believe they are, or did Emma’s magic go awry?

From last year’s event, @seriouslyhooked updated Lost Souls and Reveries. Rated M. Artwork by @shipsxahoy.

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to the future he was destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set both of them free, or will past demons win out in the end?

@snowbellewells updated Face to Face in the Broad Daylight, her sequel to last years fic, Run to Me (In the Dead of Night). Rated T. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy. I’m so glad to be part of this event again, and this is just the opening chapter.

@courtorderedcake updated Hallow with accompanying artwork 1 2. Rated E.

"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King's will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time."

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

@jarienn972 updated A Simple Spell. Rated T. Artwork by @cocohook38.

This story is my entry into the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event and is my first venture into AU territory. Storybrooke remains our setting but I've switched up some of the characters and familial relations to better suit this tale of prodigal witch Emma who returns to her birthplace to learn lots of secrets about herself and cast a spell that could change everything.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose updated Until the Stars Are All Alight, her CS LOTR au. Rated T. Artwork by @clockadile.

When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

@welllpthisishappening completed All Was Golden In the Sky. Rated M. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke. Chapter artwork by @distant-rose and extra artwork by @optomisticgirl can be found on Laura’s blog posts.

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

And finally, we had original art post from @djlbg.

WOW!!! I mean… WOW!!! What a MONTH!!! We had 4 fics complete, 2 updates from last years event, original art, and all the other updates in between!!! I’m so thankful to be a part of such a talented and prolific fandom!!! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your participation and enthusiasm!! I can’t wait to do this again next year!!!

Which brings me to the VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!! CSSNS 2020 is a GOOOOO!!!!! We’ve had a tremendous response for the past two years and so we’ll do it for one more year. So for those of you who have participated either year and want to do it again, for those of you who just recently joined the fandom, or for those of you who, like me, have just started writing or arting, start thinking about what you might like to do next year. Signups will open in late January and I can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with!! So spread the word!!! Any questions, be sure to send us an ask, or you can contact me directly at @kmomof4.

I’ll be back in November with the monthly roundup for October. Until then y’all!