Summary: When word of Robert Siegel’s departure from NPR’s “All Things Considered” goes public, Emma gets the chance to compete for her dream job. All that stands in her way are nine fellow journalists – one of them being the charismatic yet cocky Killian Jones. When she ends up paired with Killian on the first story, things get more complicated as she tries to balance fighting for her long-time aspiration and her budding relationship with this fascinating fellow reporter.
This project was a bunch of fun! I loved the story so much, and making the gifset was a lot of fun creatively. I did my best to capture the essence of such a completely different CS AU. I adored reading Jordy’s fantastic story! I also got to work with lilioproductions, who also made a fantastic piece of art! It was a great experience. They are both wonderful and helpful, and I enjoyed my time working on this art immensely! Please go read the full story, it’s truly fantastic!
The problem with living in a world of magic, he would argue, is that the lines between fact, fiction and fairy tale blur.
They blur and blend together until hearsay becomes rumour, rumour becomes bedtime story, story becomes legend, and legend spreads through every village, right up to the point where Killian is told to never visit the lake on the third full moon of Spring.
To him, his mother, his town and his world, the facts are simple – it is dangerous, the swans cannot be trusted, the swans will lure men into the depths, down beneath dark, black waters until they come out the other side.
(Well, the ‘Otherside’.)
The facts are simple: beware the bathing swans.
Happy Birthday my gorgeous, prickly, runaway disney princess! 🍓🍓
Not in that way. Well, sometimes, but right now, it was the actual, dusty, covered-in-dirt way. A fine film of grit and sweat covered his entire upper body, making his normally tanned skin look even darker and getting caught in his chest hair. His fringe hung down over his forehead and his bright blue eyes sparkled even more against the dust on his skin. Even his pale legs were coated in dirt beneath the borrowed shorts that hung low on his hips.
Who knew that helping her dad build a shed involved so much dirt and so little clothing?
It should have been gross. She should have found it absolutely disgusting and not agreed to touch him until he’d taken a good, long shower. But instead, she wanted nothing more than to follow him in.
“Come on; let’s get you cleaned up,” she murmured, voice low, as she took him by the hand and led him upstairs. He quirked an eyebrow as he followed, a smirk forming on his lips, but the sag in his shoulders and stiff way he moved told her he was too worn out to protest.
In the bathroom, she dropped his hand to start the shower and let the water heat up as he undid the buckle and straps of his brace. She had to stifle a giggle at the lighter patches of skin where the dirt hadn’t been able to get under the leather—which made her wonder if the same applied to the waistband of the shorts.
He’d started to fiddle with the button but she grabbed his hand to stop him. “Let me.” She could feel the heat coming off his warm chest as she undid the fly—or was that just her own arousal? Did it matter? With his shorts hanging open, she tucked her thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs and slid both down, revealing the clean, pale skin of his hips and the last untouched bit of hair that trailed into thick thatch around his manhood.
Steam was starting to fill the room, and she wasn’t entirely convinced that it was the shower alone making it and not the constant fire between them; the hooded gaze staring at her under those thick lashes made her seriously wonder if it was the latter. She had to turn away or they wouldn’t even make it into the water.
As quick as she could, she stripped her clothes, too, and pulled back the curtain, releasing even more tendrils of steam. Then she grabbed a couple washcloths and his hand and pulled him in.
The instant the hot water hit Killian’s shoulders, he practically melted, releasing an almost indecent sigh as he slumped forward and the rivulets began to run through his sweat-matted hair and down his face. Where the water ran, dirt started to slide off his skin, streaking down the muscles of his arms and chest—but that alone wasn’t enough to clean him.
SUMMARY: All the books and movies seem keen on operating under the assumption that magic is supposed to make your life easier. But apparently it was all lies, because being in one’s 20s seems to suck no matter what kind of spells you’re prone to casting. Emma Swan and Killian Jones, while “blessed” with the gift of magic, are certified emotional disasters—it’s a relief to know that at least they’ve found each other. A Contemporary CS Witches AU.
CONTENT WARNING (RATED M): Containsbrief mentions of childhood sexual abuse; swearing; casual, non-depressing drug use; implicit and consensual sexual content between adults. The sexual abuse is mentioned in passing and not described in explicit detail. If you need further details before reading, feel free to send me a message!
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This was a story that I planned on finishing with about 9k. It ended up being completed about 41 words under the 15k limit, and imo it should probably be longer, but since that’s not an option, this is what we’re left with! I’d like to thank a few ppl that made this possible: @the-reason-to-sail-home, @pritkins-little-witch, @initiala, and @wellhellotragic for all of their time and helpful thoughts. This fic ended up being far more challenging than I had anticipated and I couldn’t have done it without y’all. Especially Tessa and Kat, you are both my shining stars. Thank you for never letting me give up on myself. Literally incredible freaking artwork that I cannot stop staring at provided by @clockadile and @princesse-swan, both found here and here(respectively). If you’re interested in listening to the soundtrack I made to suit the particular vibe of this story, you can listen on 8tracks, here.
“Watch carefully that magic that occurs when you give a person enough comfort to just be themselves.“ — Atticus, Love Her Wild: Poems
i. ugly_duckling
Emma Swan learns about magic the same way that most children do—slipped in between the pages of a book. She is not granted the privilege of enjoying a conversation typical of most children; that of parents soothing the inevitable disappointment with the truth that magic is not real. The parents might, for the most part, keep the dream alive for a certain number of years. And so, for that certain number of years, the child will be allowed to live in a world where magic exists. That child will spend a few blissful years staring a little too hard at the creepy house at the end of their street; that child will throw a packet of salt over their shoulder, even at the risk of being yelled at by their parents after the fact. Most children will grow up feeling afraid, and not much can be done about it—but to be able to quell that fear, at least temporarily, with the suggestion that there’s a magical world at the heart of it all, waiting to be discovered? That kind of thinking might make the pain of all those unknown variables worth it, at least for most children.
Emma Swan was not most children. She was “most children,” in the sense that she wandered into a library and plucked a book off the shelf with a flying girl on the cover (she rode a broomstick and wore a black hat). She was “most children,” in the way she jumped off picnic tables and prayed that her feet would never touch the ground. But she was not “most children,” when she brought the book home and showed her new “mother” the particular book in question.
“Oh, you silly thing,” Mrs. Swan had so gleefully informed her, a sharp smirk on her stiff, something not quite right about it face. “Hasn’t anyone told you? There’s no such thing as magic.”
It All Starts With a Dance 