#look at theatre kid phoenix hitting ALL his marks for the lights!

[camalyng]

"And that is it. How the ringmaster was killed by an illusion."

[richie-rich-tozier]

all i got -- richie tozier x oc (pt1)

pairing: richie tozier x oc

warnings: swearing, smoking, domestic abuse, mentions of sexual things??

word count: 2238 (pretty long tbh but that’s just how i write i guess)

summary: CJ and her family moved from Phoenix to Maine, taking their belongings and secrets with them. CJ has little hope for the change until a certain Trashmouth introduces some potential.

a/n: basically, this is my first post-a-ma-jig of, like, actual content. i wrote this before i started this account which is why it’s the protagonist is an OC. if people don’t like that, i can rewrite this to make it  an x reader and write x readers in the future.

hope this doesn’t suck! xo

The clouds seemed to get darker and denser as I got closer and closer to what would soon be her new home. Derry, Maine was, from what she researched, a place quite unlike her hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. She was, unwillingly, trading crystal clear blue skies, golden sunshine, and closest friends for grey cloud-ridden skies, cold rain, and a bunch of small-town strangers.

The day she found out she was moving was a day she hated for more reasons than one. The first reason being, of course, that she had received the dreadful news that she was leaving Arizona. The second reason being that she told her boyfriend of a year that she didn’t love him. The third reason being she slept with Josh Herrin.

She also turned seventeen.

As she drove past a sign that announced her family had arrived in Derry, she tried her hardest to push these thoughts from her mind. She turned up the volume on her Walkman, she took in the town of Derry and what little it had to offer; not much. Pulling up at the traffic lights by a large statue of Paul Bunyan, she felt a light touch on her knee and looked from her window to see her mother with a small smile on her face.

“So, this is our new home, well, the surrounding area,” she grinned hopefully once I had removed my headphones. “What do you think?” I watched as her eyes flitted in the direction of my father and back again rapidly.

I chose my words carefully. “It’s nice,” I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

“Good, good...” my mother mumbled as she turned to sit properly in her seat once again. My father placed a hand on my mother’s thigh and she flinched. He didn’t stir, and she rested a feeble shaky hand on top of his. I resisted the urge to audibly wince.

The drive continued in silence as I decided to turn off my Walkman. We soon pulled up to a pale coloured home that looked too perfect to live in. It was eerily perfect against the dreary backdrop. As soon as my father stopped the car, my mother jumped out of the car and rushed to the door to unlock it, then hurried back to the trunk of the car before hastily grabbing a few bags and hustling it inside. I sighed before making my way outside of the vehicle.

“Hurry up, slow poke,” my father growled low as he walked past me. Shivers rolled my spine and I did as instructed, copying my mother.

I was sent upstairs after retrieving all the boxes from the trailer we had rented. I was instructed to unpack my room and the bathroom. I was relieved at the chance to escape my father’s eyes and rushed upstairs. I hadn’t taken much with me; partly because I wasn’t brought up to be the sentimental type and partly because I wasn’t allowed to. If I could’ve, I would’ve brought the Arizonan horizon with me. Instead, I brought a few photographs, a bed set, most of my clothes, my Walkman, my tapes and records, a record player, a boombox, and my makeup. I unpacked all of this fairly quickly, only taking two hours, and then set to work on the bathroom.

I had left the door open as I did so and could hear some commotion from downstairs as I unpacked the toiletries. It began with the shattering of a dish.

I heard my mother let out a shriek followed by the thundering of footsteps across the ground floor, a banging of cupboard doors, another shriek from mother and the sound of skin aggressively hitting skin.

“Now why would you do that?” I could hear my father spit. I snuck to the stairs and peered into the kitchen where I could see my mother cowered on the floor whilst my father hovered above her, a hand in her dark brown hair. She didn’t respond, she just whimpered and shook. “I said why!” he yelled.

My mother shakily sobbed. My father violently threw her head away from him, hitting her skull against the cabinet. He stomped towards the front door and I scurried up the stairs as he put on his boots and jacket.

“When I come back, this place better be unpacked and a cold beer waiting for me!” he announced before heading out the front door. I heard my mother’s sobs get louder as they escaped her fragile body. I was selfish and decided to save my self instead of helping her, fearful that my father may see me. I returned to unpacking the bathroom.

Once I had finished that, I returned to my room and sat down on my bed, staring out of the window. I could see the setting Derry sun and realised that it would be a long while until my father returned home. Mother’s crying had either stopped or quietened to a volume that CJ couldn’t hear. She proceeded to pull on her Chucks, throw her fake ID in her pocket with a handful of cash before going to find her mother downstairs. Tiffany Elizabeth Burlow was sitting at the dining room table, a glass of cloudy water in her pale hands, her posture impeccable and her expression unreadable. All CJ could read into her mother’s expression was that she would be passing out soon.

“Can I go to the pharmacy? I forgot to bring a toothbrush with me and I don’t want bad breath,” I nervously laughed.

My mother slowly moved her hazel eyes to my person, her expression dead and her dark circles aching. “Of course, sweetie, be safe,” she hummed, her lips twitching to a smile like a tick before returning to nothingness, her eyes settling on her drink.

I grabbed the keys to my mother’s car that had been waiting here for our arrival. Hopping into it, I took a deep breath before turning the keys in the admission and heading in the general direction of town, to where I recalled seeing the pharmacy earlier. It was a quiet drive with no traffic and little to see. Most residents seemed to be hidden away in their homes or elsewhere whilst a few kids and teenagers strolled between the diner and the movie theatre. I pulled up outside the pharmacy and headed inside to find it completely empty other than the cashier and myself.

I stood in the entrance for a moment meeting eyes with the boy behind the counter, clearing my throat before searching for a toothbrush, not that I had actually forgotten mine, but I needed the evidence that I had left the house to retrieve one. I also grabbed a packet of smokes when I was at the counter. The boy looked between me and the packet of Marlboro with and unconvinced expression. He priced up the toothbrush and then stopped.

“ID?” he asked, a small and outstretched towards me. The boy was just shorter than me with dark hair and a polo shirt. He didn’t seem very intimidating and so I felt confident. I pulled out my fake ID, batting my eyelashes at the boy who blushed lightly at the slight contact of my fingertips and his. He scanned the plastic, looking back up at me every now and then. “I’m sorry but—”

The boy was cut off as the doors of the pharmacy opened and another guy came strolling in, dark curly hair a mess around his pale and freckled face. I instantly spotted a purple mark on his neck and that he looked very dishevelled. “Eds!” the boy greeted loudly as he walked in, slightly out of breath.

“I told you not to call me that,” the boy at the counter sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m not here to chit-chat, Eddie,” he said dismissively to the boy I now knew as Eddie. “I’m here on a mission.”

“A mission?” Eddie repeated.

“Condoms,” Richie stated. “Eds, I need condoms.”

Eddie sighed again. “Aisle 2,” was all he said before pricing up my cigarettes and handing them back to me. I shot him a small smile before reaching in my pocket for the cash.

The other customer, supposedly Eddie’s friend, approached the counter then, throwing a box of twelve condoms down with some money on top.

“No need to worry, doll. I got it,” he grinned as he leant against the counter beside me. He was rather close, too close.

I placed a finger on his chest and pushed him away lightly, taking my things and walking towards the doors. “Gee, thanks,” I mumbled sarcastically, loud enough for the tow boys to hear. Eddie sniggered, and the guy hit him on the chest.

I pulled a cigarette from the packet as soon as I exited the pharmacy, placing the butt between my lips and sparking it up. The smoke filled my lungs before I forced it out again. I leant against a brick wall just outside as I enjoyed my smoke. Soon enough, my time was disturbed.

“Forget something, Amanda Gould?” a voice asked from my right. I turned in the direction of the sound to see the tall and curly haired boy from before reading my fake ID as he approached me. He looked up when I didn’t reply and focused his chocolate brown eyes on my own. I noticed that he was very attractive, but he didn’t seem trustworthy.

“My name isn’t Amanda,” I replied once he was close enough for me to snatch the plastic away from him. I placed it in my pocket before taking another pull of my cigarette.

“I think Hot Stuff suits you better, anyways,” he joked, standing further away than he had inside the pharmacy. I didn’t react to his comment and looked away from him, disinterested. “This is the part where you laugh and tell me your actual name, sweetheart.”

“Oh really?” I said in a bored tone.

“I mean that’s usually how it goes.” Again, he was met with silence. “Well, if that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ve got better things to be doing.” The boy headed past me and slid into the driver’s seat of a car, a girl in the passenger seat giggling like a bimbo as the tow sped off. I scoffed, stomped out my cigarette, and headed towards my mother’s car.

Once I arrived home, I wasn’t surprised that my father’s car still hadn’t returned. What did surprise me was the car parked on the other side of the street. It was the car that belonged to the curl haired boy who needed condoms. I rolled my eyes at the sight, noticing that it was the only car at the residence and that the only light that was on was one on the second floor.

Inside my new home was quiet when I entered. I walked slowly around the downstairs to find it empty and walked upstairs to find my mother passed out on her bed. I sighed a quiet sigh before heading in to my room, getting washed and changed, and then crawling into bed having nothing else to do.

I was awoken by the slamming of the front door.

“Tiffany!” father bellowed, speech slurred. I soon heard my mother running from her bedroom down the stairs, then I heard some crashing. “You stupid bitch! You fell down the stairs!”

“I’ll get you a beer,” I heard her say, tears in her throat.

“You should’ve been waiting with one.”

I kept my eyes clenched tight together as I tried desperately to fall back to sleep.

“Here you go, John,” mother mumbled.

A moment of silence passed. “This is warm.” More silence, the sound of heavy footsteps moving slowly and clumsily against hardwood floors. “Was it not in the refrigerator?”

“I-I-I—” was all I heard my mother stutter before I heard my fathers hand connect to my mother skin.

“Stupid fucking bitch!” he yelled. I heard tin rattle against the floor. “CJ!”

My heart dropped and my pulse raced as I shot out of bed and sprinted to my father wordlessly. I stood on front of him with my head low. It seemed that he had thrown the can at my mother who was cowering against the wall, covered in beer with a handprint on her cheek and a bruise developing on her forehead.

I made the mistake of glancing up at my father. He snarled before pushing me hard against the front door, my face forced against the wood, Tears were flowing freely from my eyes as I supressed the sobs threatening to erupt from my throat.

“God forbid you turn out anything like your mother,” he spat lowly in my face. I could make out my mother quietly muttering to herself in the corner as she traced droplets of alcohol that ran down the wall, her fingers trembling, her body raked with tremors.

My father grabbed my cheeks in he meaty hand and turned my face towards him. Using his free hand, he brushed a dark strand of hair from my face and let the back of his fingers brush against my neck. I shivered against his touch and he smiled a small and terrifying smile before throwing me to the floor, my head smacking the floor causing me to pass out on the floor of the entryway to our brand-new home sweet home.

[thejacketandthehook]

CS Fanfic: Spoilers

Title: Spoilers 1/1

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary:  Emma Swan has a soulmate tattoo on her ribcage that gives her pretty big spoilers for the Harry Potter universe.

Disclaimers: I own absolutely nothing 

Rating: General Audiences 

Author’s Notes: So I was inspired to write this based off of these two prompts: so if in the soulmate au the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born imagine having something like ‘man I cant believe dumbledore died’ tattooed on you. imagine being spoiled for a book series that doesnt even exist yet. imagine worrying about this dumbledore guy your whole childhood while not knowing who he is. imagine knowing dumbledore dies before jk rowling even thinks about it. (@dondaario)

So you finally find your soulmate. After years of knowing that dumbledore dies and the entire franchise being ruined, you find him. You’re in the theatre, dumbledore is dead and you hear it. ‘Man I can’t believe dumbledore died’ by a guy walking right by you and in you’re rage you shout ‘You! You’re the one!’ The guy stops, looks at you, his own arm to read the words, then back at you and he says, “That’s not really how I imagined that being said” (@littlelions101)

A30

The mark had been there since the day Emma was born. As she grew older she knew what it was: her soulmate mark. At first she was excited; a soulmate mark on her meant somewhere out there would be someone who would love and care for her, correct? But if life told her one thing it was this: life is pain. Prince Charming did not exist. Fairy Godmothers were not coming to save her. And soulmarks meant absolutely nothing.

However, that never really stopped her from wandering what in hell her soulmate was talking about. The words "Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died" were as mysterious to her as how the mark ended up on her ribcage. Just below her left breast the words appeared and she had no idea who this Dumbledore person was or why her soulmate couldn't believe they died. Were they a political figure? Someone of great importance? She hated wearing bikini tops because someone always noticed the words. And since soulmate tattoos were the all the rage, especially among teenage girls, she was usually bombarded with questions. "Do you know who he is? That Dumble...guy?"

No, actually she had no clue. It wasn't until she was almost seventeen that she finally figured it out. The Harry Potter series was huge, but not so much in the beginning. And between foster houses and making sure she had a place to sleep every night, she didn't always pay attention to what was going on in pop culture. It actually wasn't until her boyfriend at the time, Neal and she snuck into a movie theater to see the latest craze: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

"I haven't read the book," Neal whispered to her as the lights dimmed and the music got louder. "There for kids. But I heard the movie is pretty good."

Emma nodded, as though she thought the same thing though she actually never even heard of Harry Potter until Neal brought it up an hour earlier.

And it was during the train scene, when Harry gets the trading card and reads "Albus Dumbledore" that Emma intakes a deep breath. Dumbledore was a fictional character from a children's book. So she waited with bated breath for the final scenes where this wizard would just keel over.

Only Dumbledore didn't die. He was actually alive and well at the end of the movie, which left Emma a bit perplexed. She looked around at the other adults and children as they left the theatre and looked up at Neal who was waiting for the people in front of him to move.

"But--"

"What?" he asked, turning his torso to look back down at her.

Emma pointed weakly to the screen, still rolling the credits. "It's just...Wasn't...."

He turned completely around to face her. "What's the matter?"

That's when she realized that he has never seen her tattoo. He had no idea that she was waiting for the headmaster to have a heart attack or get shot or something so he could die.

"Nevermind."

But now Emma was consumed. When did the headmaster of Hogwarts die?

But before she could pick up the books, Neal spoke about a home in Tallahassee and all thoughts of witches and wizards went right out of Emma's head. For Hogwarts was make-believe, whereas what Neal was suggesting was reality.

But as she mentioned before, life is pain. Instead of sunny days by the beach,she suddenly found herself arrested for Neal's actions. That bastard walked free while Emma got eleven months in prison for a crime she didn't commit.

Emma grew more and more depressed as she spent time in jail. No one ever came to visit her (since Neal was the only thing she had to family and friends), no letter was ever sent her way. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Emma did get an envelope with just a car key and a swan keychain with no note. Not that she cared that she had a car when she was leaving this dump.

Before Emma really hit rock bottom (though, at this point she was pretty sure rock bottom was her permanent residence), she escaped to the library. She did always found solace in books, and perhaps one of them can take her away from this hellhole. And that's when she saw it on the bookshelf: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She quickly picked it up and scanned through it. It was well used, no doubt about that, but a quick glance at the end showed no ripped pages, so that was good enough for her. But then she noticed three other books: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

It was a freaking series! That's why Dumbledore didn't die at the end of the movie! Because he must die in one of the other books.

She quickly picked them all and escaped to a small corner of the room, wanting nothing more than a beanbag or chair for her to sit on. When she got herself settled, she opened the first one.

Of course she didn't finish the four books that afternoon, but by the time she got to the Goblet of Fire, she knew for certain that she was a Harry Potter fan. The books took her so far away from prison that she wanted to go to Hogwarts any chance that she got.  

When she was released the first thing she did was try to locate someplace to work. Getting two jobs at two separate diners, she was able to save enough for a crappy apartment that barely had a door on the bathroom. But before she even got herself a television, she bought the four books for the series. And when she went through them again, she noticed something at the end of the fourth book: Coming Soon: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (06/20/03).  

June 20?! Why that was only a month away! Emma could barely contain her excitement that another book was under way. How she longed to get lost in Harry's head for a while, since though his life completely sucked before he went to Hogwarts, it seemed to be picking up. He at least had friends and the Weasley family that treated him like one of them.

Emma had been passing a bookshop a few weeks later when she saw a sign that read: Midnight Release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix June 20, 2003! Come join us as we continue Harry's story at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Remember to dress up as your Hogwarts house!

Emma had no intention of dressing up at a Hogwarts house (though she would have liked to be place in Gryffindor along Harry, Hermione, and Ron), but going to the midnight release sounded like fun. So when the night arrived, she left her house at nine o'clock and was stunned to see the huge crowd outside the store waiting for them to open for their midnight release.

She had a load of fun talking to the other fans, guessing what might come next. She, of course, didn't mention her tattoo on her ribcage, giving away one huge spoiler about what was going to come soon. How could she tell these diehard fans that a beloved character was going to die? Emma herself was devastated at the news, and she knew about it long before she even had heard of Harry Potter.

When she finally got the book, a part of her wondered (much like she did with every book before) if this was the book where it was going to happen. She almost wanted to flip to the end, just to know for certain if the beloved character was going to get the heart attack she thought he was going to have years earlier. But she didn't want to know any other spoiler, so she carefully read every page, looking for any foreshadowing that J.K. Rowling may have left behind.

A year later, Emma had enough money to move from Phoenix to anywhere else in the country (besides Florida). After contemplating California, New York, Michigan, and Massachusetts, she finally landed on Boston. It was a city, much like New York, but not as congested. And  since she was found twenty miles outside of Boston on the side of the highway, she had a small (tiny really) glimmer of hope that her parents might still be in Boston. But that was pipe dream, really.

After she was settled into a bigger apartment that had starling white walls and minimal furniture, she found out the third Harry Potter movie was coming out into theatres. When she heard about a midnight showing, she knew without a doubt she would be there.

Emma stood patiently on line when the person behind her bumped into her. "Oh, I'm sorry," a young woman said. Emma told her it was not a problem and then noticed how she was dressed up.

"Oh!" Emma said, turning fully around to get a good look at the woman who was probably her age. "You look great!"

With pixie cut black hair, round glasses, and a red lightning bolt mark on her forehead, the woman looked convincing like Harry Potter. She blushed lightly before ducking her head a bit. "Oh, thanks so much. You're not dressed up?"

Emma looked down at her plain white shirt and jeans. "No, not this time." She didn't want to admit that she couldn't afford to get anything resembling a Hogwarts scarf, let alone the whole wardrobe like the woman in front of her.

"Oh, well, I have a Gryffindor scarf here if you would like to wear it. It keep scratching the back of my neck. But you can wear it, if you'd like."

Emma took the scarf, genuinely touched by her giving nature. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'm Mary Margaret."

"Emma."

"Nice to meet you. How long have you been a fan?"

And just like that, Emma met her best friend. She and Mary Margaret spent as much time together as they could. Emma knew what Harry felt like when Harry was introduced to the Weasely household, because that's exactly how it felt for her. Mary Margaret and her whole family were so giving and wanted very little in return.

The next midnight book release (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince) found both Mary Margaret and Emma dressed up. Mary Margaret was once again Harry Potter, and Emma wore a brown wig (purchased by Mary Margaret, even though Emma told her no) and a Gryffindor tie. Both girls were acting as though they were sixteen, but so did everyone else in the bookshop, so they didn't care.

As it got closer to midnight, the excitement level was going up in the store. Plus, the Starbucks attached to it were selling Harry Potter influenced beverages. Emma and Mary Margaret were both enjoying the Snitch when suddenly Mary Margaret was covered in a red drink covering her whole outfit.

"What the hell!?" she screamed as she stood up from the floor, turning around to see who did that to her.

"Oh my God," a young man said, looking horrified at what just happened. "I am so sorry. Let me get that for you."

This was the angriest Emma had ever seen Mary Margaret, who was turning as red as the drink currently going down her white shirt and black skirt. "Watch what you're doing, jerk!"

"I said I was sorry!" the man yelled back. Emma noticed that he too was dressed up, and was wearing a cheap red wig, with a Gryffindor necktie and robe. "Let me--I'll go get some napkins."

The man ran off to get napkins as someone nearby handed Emma some they had. Emma and Mary Margaret began wiping her off. She was muttering under her breath, when she suddenly took a deep breath and said, "What did he say?"

Emma was currently splashing a little water onto a napkin to get some of the red dye off of her friend's neck. "Who said what?"

"The guy. When the drink spilt on me, what did he say?"

"He apologized," Emma said distracted.

Mary Margaret grabbed Emma's arm forcing her to stop and focus. "Emma, listen. He said 'Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Let me get that for you.' Right? He said those exact words, right?"

"I guess. Why?" Emma asked the question, but she knew the answer before it came out of her friend's mouth.  

"Because that's what I have tattoo under my arm!" she whispered back. She pointed to her right side, along the torso. "Just here are those exact words. Emma! I think I met my soulmate!"

Emma wanted to sigh. "How do you know for certain? That's a pretty common phrase." Not like you have a major spoiler for a humongous fandom written on your body.

"Because I know!" she almost squealed. "Oh, he's coming back now.

And the boy was back with plenty of napkins and apologizes coming out for the following five minutes. He didn't realize how close he was to her, was certain the bookcase was behind him instead. He'll pay for dry cleaning, buy her the book to compensate. Oh, and his name was David Nolan.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard," she smiled. "And this is Emma Swan."

(Months later, Mary Margaret told Emma that David actually had the words "What the hell?" written on his upper thigh, making his parents very curious on who he was going to marry in the future.)

But it was actually the next day, after Emma finished reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince that her tattoo was correct. Only Dumbledore didn't just die, he was killed!

"I can't believe it," Mary Margaret said a few days after the book release, when both girls were able to get together to discuss what they had just read. "I can't freakin' believe it. Dumbledore died?!"

Maybe it was the mimosas, maybe it was the relief of finally being able to tell someone her secret, but Emma blurted out, "I knew it."

"You did not."

"I did too. I knew Dumbledore was going to die since before I can remember."

Mary Margaret, who fully believed that fairy tales actually happened, looked dubious. "And how is that, may I ask?"

Emma leaned a little closer, not to be overheard by the other customers. "Because of my soulmark tattoo."

Mary Margaret no longer looked doubtful. Now she look confused, as well as shocked. "Soulmark tattoo? You never told me you had a soulmark tattoo!"

"Because I knew you'd want to see it and I could let you with such a major spoiler!"

"I want to see it."

"Mary Margaret..."

"Please?"

"Not now. We're in a restaurant for crying out loud."

"They have a bathroom."

"No."

"Well, where is it?"

Emma gestured to under her breast. "On my ribs."

"I need to see it."

"You will. Just not now."

When they got back to their shared apartment, Mary Margaret barely closed the door before pulling at Emma's shirt. "For God's sake, woman, give me a moment!"

Emma finally took off her shirt and showed her tattoo to her friend. "Holy crap," Mary Margaret commented when she saw it. "You really did know Dumbledore was going to die the whole time."

"Every time I read a book, I was certain that was going to be the one where he died. This is actually such a huge relief for me. I always had to put make-up on it before going out, otherwise I was asked like a hundred questions."

Mary Margaret smiled. "You have a soulmark, Emma. Though, granted, I have never seen one that gives out such a major spoiler."

It was years later, after Mary Margaret and David were dating, then engaged, then happily married, that the three of them got there Harry Potter costumes on once more for the movie premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Mary Margaret was certain that this was going to be the night that Emma met her soulmate, but the woman herself was less certain. Mostly because she didn't care if she met him (or her) tonight. If it wasn't for Mary Margaret and David, she probably wouldn't even believe in it in the first place.

After the movie was over, and everyone just sat in their seats in pure silence did David say, "You know, reading that was difficult, but seeing it on the screen. That was just unbelievable."

Mary Margaret started to agree as people started getting up and walking towards the exit. The three of them stayed put for a moment; the line was barely moving, so it wasn't like they were going anywhere.

Emma was about to comment on the rest of the movie when she heard it. A British accent not two feet away from her said, "Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died."

Emma jumped to her feet, pointed to him and yelled, "You! You're the one!"

The man looked over at Emma before looking down at his arm. Shaking his head, he looked back up and commented, "I did not think you were going to say it like that."

Emma almost climbed over the seats trying to get to him. "You! I knew what was going to happen years before I even heard of Harry Potter and it's all because of you!"

"Love, I'm sorry," the man said putting out two hands, as though telling her to calm down. "It's not like I planned that."

"Thanks to you, I had major spoilers to the franchise! I probably knew about Dumbledore's death before J.K. Rowling!"

The man had the gall to laugh. "I'm sorry, love, I really am. But like I said, I didn't plan it. I don't make the rules. I'm sorry if that's the first thing you heard me say."

"Excuse me, but you're blocking the aisle," commented an older woman dressed up like Professor McGonagall.

"Apologizes," the man said as Emma muttered, "Sorry."

They moved along with the rest of the crowd, Emma's arms crossed tightly across her chest as the man tried really hard not to laugh at the circumstances he currently found himself in.

When they were outside, Emma turned towards the man once more. Even in the crappy lighting, she could tell he was a good looking guy. He had dark hair and light eyes, with a handsome face and just the right amount of scruff on his cheeks and chin. He was also dressed up in a Ravenclaw scarf and robe, and Emma was pretty sure she saw a wand sitting out of his pants pocket.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Killian Jones," he said, sticking out his hand.

She placed her hand in his and gently shook it before letting go. "Emma Swan."

"Well, Emma Swan, it is lovely to meet you. Sorry about the spoiler, but like I said before, couldn't really help it."

"I know," she admitted in defeat. "It just sucked knowing that major piece of information. Totally ruined a part of the series for me."

"I can just imagine. Perhaps I can make it up to you."

"How?"

He scratched his chin. "I was thinking dinner, but I'll take anything really."

She cocked her head to the side. "Are you always that easy?"

He grinned and she almost had to hold onto the wall, because oh holy hell. "You don't know the half of it." Giving a small cough, he said with a gently smile, "I do need your phone number. So that I can contact you and make it up to you."

Emma handed him her phone where he put in his number. When he handed it back, she sent him a text so now he had her number.  

As she put her phone away, she said, "Dinner is a start."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he said turning to walk away.

"How?" she yelled when he got some distance between them.

He yelled back, "No spoilers."