You were supposed to meet with your Valentine's Day date at the Jazz Club in Kichijoji and have a lovely evening, but noooooo. Instead, you were sitting heartbroken as you looked at the text message on your phone. Your so called "date" had used you to get his ex back after months of telling you that he loved you, and had ridiculed you over text for being gullible enough to fall for the trick. You should have known... You locked your phone with a click of the power button and set it down, waving over one of the wait staff to order your usual. Hours of preparation to look good for him and then more time waiting for him to arrive only for it to be wasted... If the Jazz Club wasn't your go to spot, you would have left minutes ago after you'd received the text. The pitied stares are already getting old, but the jazz music was what was making you stay. It was the only thing keeping you from the verge of an emotional break down. You'd thought he would have liked what you chose to wear...
It was a red sundress that accentuated your curves beautifully, with a red shawl wrapped around your shoulders to match. Your h/c hair was elegantly styled with a headband of white crystals keeping it out of your face. Even your nails were painted scarlet red... Your makeup was light, but done to make your e/c eyes pop and your cheeks tinted just a bit brighter than usual. You hated heels, yet, on your feet were red heels to match the dress you were wearing. On your lips was a neutral lipstick, and while it didn't bring much attention to your lips, it did go perfectly with the rest of the makeup. All in all, when you'd left, you thought you looked beautiful. But now...
"Forgive my intrusion, my lady, but why does a princess such as yourself carry such a look of despair?" You knew that soft toned, tenor voice anywhere. When you looked up, there was Goro Akechi, the teen detective himself. Not only was he famous in all of Japan, but was the most popular boy at your school. He was wearing his usual tan peacoat with black buttons, striped black and white tie, black pants, black gloves and black loafers. His brown hair was shaggy as usual, and his crimson eyes seemed worried as they scanned over your face.
"Akechi-kun, what a surprise." You greeted the young detective with the same cheery demeanor you always had around him, but you never could hide your emotions from him. Before you could ask him what brought him to the little jazz club, he reached out to wipe a tear from your face, silencing all words about to come out. You hadn't even realized you were crying.
"Y/N-chan, may I join you?" Akechi asked. You knew that look. He looked determined to find out what happened, and you knew how stubborn he was. Even if you rejected his request to join you now, you knew he'd confront you at school. You just nodded, Akechi seeming relieved as he took a seat next to you. "Y/N-chan, what's wrong?" He spoke after a moment of silence, voicing the question on his mind.
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, just something stupid..."
"Y/N." He dropped the honorifics, his tone turning serious. You'd never heard him this way before... "Someone has made you cry, clearly it's something to worry about and nothing stupid. I could easily go out there and get to the bottom of this myself, but I'd rather hear what happened from you. Now, please, tell me what happened." You sighed, looking at your hands in your lap. Did you really have a choice? You then recounted the events that led to this moment. If you had looked up even once, you would have seen the disbelief and rage on Akechi's face. How dare that pitiful jerk hurt you?! Just as you were telling him about the text your ex date had sent though, you started crying and couldn't finish. Alarmed by your sobs, Akechi's rage fizzled into worry and concern. Without thinking again, he wrapped his arms around you, attempting to comfort you in his embrace. "Oh, Y/N-chan, I'm so sorry. But, you know," He pulled away from you, only enough to look at your face. "A pig like that isn't worth the tears of a princess such as yourself." He wiped away your tears. "If you ask me, that fool doesn't know what he's missing. You're beautiful, inside and out. You always go above and beyond for others, always wearing your heart on your sleeve and thinking of yourself last. If everyone else is a dark shroud, you're the light that shines brightly. Your radiance is regal of royalty, no... Actually, you're a goddess." He was rambling and getting redder by the minute. He realized what was tumbling from his mouth, but somehow, he couldn't stop it. Your sorrow turned into shock and giggles as you watched the young ace detective be flustered and rambling in front of you. Your giggles cut off his rambling and a smile, his first real smile in many many years, graced his face as he saw that your tears had turned to laughter. Even if it was at his expense, he loved that you were now happy.
"If I'm a goddess, I believe that'd make you the god ruling beside me, now wouldn't it?" If it were humanly possible to get any redder, Akechi broke that record with your words.
"W-Well... Well, I wouldn't say that I'm a god, I'm a mere worm compared to you, but I..." He fell silent before getting even more bashful. "I-If-If it please you, my goddess, will you allow me to b-be your escort for at least this evening?" He asked.
"What about your work?" You asked.
"I actually just finished up a case. I guess you could say today is a rare day off, and if I may spend it with you, I will show you just how a goddess like yourself is to be treated." He answered.
"Goro Akechi, are you asking me out?" You inquired, Akechi turning bright red.
"O-Only if my lady desires it..." He told you, looking away as you giggled.
"I'd love to." You watched as his crimson eyes turned back to you, examining you in shock for a moment before a big smile broke onto his face. Without warning, he scooped up your hand into yours and kisses the back of it.
"It would be my pleasure... My goddess."
This wasn't supposed to happen... But, you couldn't say you hated it...
(for @vivinightingale, hopefully this cheered you up and Happy Valentine's Day 🥺)
***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************
***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********
***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************
**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**
****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********
*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*
***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***
***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***
(what the heck happened to the horizontal line, tumblr??)
Present (Friday, continued)…
The first siren was the most beautiful sound Jones had heard in a very long time. His sense of time had been growing increasingly fuzzy, but his estimate would have leaned toward a wait of at least an hour. Likely a gross exaggeration, but with Killian in such dire straits, and the attention-seeking behavior of his own dizzying pain, every moment had stretched to an interminable age.
Thankfully, Emma had resumed the duty of applying pressure to her husband's wounds, and Jones could take advantage of the respite to recline back against the bloodied altar. He didn’t know for sure, but he had a suspicion that fragments of the stun projectile remained in his throbbing shoulder. Emma had graciously wrapped a second bandage around the first, which seemed to be containing the bleeding for the most part, but didn't do much for the agony. All adrenaline now long gone, Jones could feel each heartbeat through the wound, and an overwhelming exhaustion pressed down upon him. More than once, he had caught himself beginning to topple sideways, close to passing out. Dizziness bordered on nausea. He could only imagine how Killian must be feeling. As far as Jones could tell, his counterpart drifted in and out of consciousness, frequently coming back with sobs of terror as he relived tortures endured, and Emma could not always soothe him easily.
Now, as the first scream of a siren echoed up to the rafters, Jones forced himself alert and struggled closer to Killian's side, knowing that Emma would want to direct the help where it was needed most. She met his gaze gratefully, squeezed Killian's knee with a murmured word of encouragement, then rose. As she jogged toward the front door, Jones listened to the labored breathing beside him and prayed that the medics weren't too late.
"In here," called Emma, one foot still inside the church. Evidently she was reluctant to leave her husband for too long. "Hurry!"
Killian whimpered and Jones lay a gentle hand on his forearm.
"Still with us, mate?"
Uniformed paramedics trooped inside, following Emma's urging, and Killian shivered, seemingly only half-aware of his surroundings. The detective managed one more reassuring squeeze before shuffling aside. He watched with hooded eyes the efficient dance of emergency medical assessment, waving off attention for his own injuries in favor of faster intervention for Killian.
The medics were quick to administer supplemental oxygen as they measured vitals and made a preliminary examination of his wounds. Emma managed level-headed answers to their questions, keeping out of their way but determined to stay by Killian's side. He seemed confused and afraid, struggling against every touch despite Emma's pleas for him to remain calm. The medic at his left side was already on her third cannula as she tried to hit a moving target. Pouches of blood and saline awaited only a reliable access to Killian's compromised circulatory system.
Emma's phone buzzed. After reading the message and typing a quick reply, she reported to no one in particular,
"Second ambulance is close. My dad’s following in his truck. He's gonna direct them in here."
One of Killian's medics seemed to be getting ready to activate a power drill into his upper arm. Jones wondered if he might be starting to hallucinate, but in response to Emma's look of confusion, the medic explained how the long bones can be just as effective at transporting drugs and fluids as peripheral veins are. "It's not overly painful," yeah right. Already woozy, Jones couldn't watch, and even Emma had to look away as the battery-powered device buzzed a stylet through skin and muscle and into the humerus. Perhaps the woman was correct; Killian didn't seem excessively bothered. He'd grown quiet and mostly still, focused on the effort of breathing. Under the mask, he almost looked like a fish out of water, gulping at air too thin to metabolize. The impression was only strengthened by the bluish-gray tinge to his skin.
This was evidently cause for concern. The activity around him doubled in calm intensity, and even Emma backpedaled to allow them more space to work. Jones was just gathering the fortitude to stretch out a comforting hand when the church door scraped open again. He had missed hearing the new ambulance come wailing up, but he could see a doubling of the whirling flashes outside.
David still had his arm in a sling, but that didn't stop him from being the first one inside.
"Emma!"
Fixated on her husband's struggles to breathe, Emma didn't seem to even hear her father's call. David urgently beckoned the new arrivals inside and started up the aisle himself. He did an impressive double take at the monstrous corpse on the floor, watching it warily as he skirted an unnecessary circle around it, then hurried to the foot of the stairs. He faced a moment of indecision when catching a glimpse of his son-in-law in the midst of the crowd of medical professionals, eventually deciding to creep up in between Emma and Jones in order to provide his daughter with moral support. Kneeling behind Emma and pulling her close against his chest, he cast a worried glance at Jones.
"Hey, partner. You okay?" he murmured, making sure to keep his voice at a level that would not disrupt critical communications elsewhere.
"Glad you could j-join us, mate," Jones gritted out, shivering painfully. The sackcloth tunic he wore certainly did not provide much warmth. He was beginning to regret having insisted Emma lay all of the blankets she'd found over Killian, especially considering that most of them were now strewn carelessly in a heap after the medics had desired better access to their patient.
David read his thoughts and reached gingerly around Emma, grasping at one of the discarded blankets nearby. Absently, Emma helped him to drag it back out of the way. The prince tore his eyes away from the frantic scene in front of him, gave Emma a comforting squeeze, then pulled away. As he spread the blanket over his quaking partner, David hissed,
"What the hell happened? What were you two even doing here?"
"Saving the world, naturally," grimaced Jones. The second band of EMTs had finally arrived, and they were trotting toward the altar, though to Jones it appeared as if they were moving in slow motion. David finished tucking the corner behind his good shoulder, leaving the fabric loose beneath the saturated bandage on the other side.
One uniformed man started to set up shop at Jones' right just as Emma turned and reached for David, her strong façade crumbling. David was forced to adjust his position in order to accommodate his wounded shoulder blade. As the prince gathered his weeping daughter in his arms, Jones could hear him whispering words of hope. He's going to be ok. They'll get him home; Whale will fix him up. People could survive a collapsed lung. And they were talking about Killian, here.
Jones heard all of this despite the other portion of his attention devoted to responding to the questions being put to him by the two EMTs assessing him. Turning his face away from the blood pressure cuff that was currently magnifying the throb in his coat-hanger-pierced forearm, Jones caught sight of what had so deeply upset Emma. Not only were the medics inserting some sort of drain in Killian's chest below the still-protruding dagger, but they were also preparing to intubate and take over his respirations with mechanical ventilation. It all looked serious and scary, but was obviously for the best, if his own efforts were ineffective.
True professionals, Jones’ medics kept their focus solely on him despite the commotion nearby. Their attempts to start an IV were barely distinguishable from the squeezing, pulsing anguish lower down his punctured forearm; Jones was just grateful they hadn't yet pulled out their bone drill to use on him. As he looked past the gurney that was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, Jones spotted the massive corpse of the Master slumped where they'd left it. And surrounding it…
“Bloody hell,” muttered the detective. Still in the dark about the situation and extremely on edge, David's head snapped up and he looked around wildly, fumbling for his gun.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"They're over there." Jones gave a stiff nod to indicate the direction in which he was looking.
The slaves were gathering around their Master. Forming a mournful and eerie circle tribute. Or maybe it was panicked directionlessness. Even those too weak, stunned, or injured to walk were compelled to slither along the ground, inch by agonizing inch, all to be closer to the commanding presence they could no longer feel or hear. If anything were to remind the detective of a zombie horror film, the sight before him now would have been a top contender. Even more were staggering their way into the bustling church, clogging up the doorway through which additional paramedics were attempting to enter.
"Wow," grunted David, still slightly alarmed. "That's disturbing." He glanced warily back at Jones. "You're not... feeling the urge to join them, are you?"
The detective's attempt at a laugh came out more like a groan. "Not yet, mate; thank the gods. I'll let you know if I do."
"Well," said David thoughtfully, "at least it will make it easier to round them all up."
A sudden frenzy of activity distracted both men from the sight. Emma scrambled to her feet as Killian's backboard was hauled up in preparation for transport to the ambulance. She shot the briefest of glances at her father, but was already making as if to follow even before he had a chance to say,
"You go. I'll handle things here."
Just as the front doors had ground to a close behind Killian's gurney, one of Jones’ medics rose to her feet. She found a place on the altar’s façade on which to hang his bag of saline, saying,
“Okay, Mr. Jones. I know you're probably anxious to get to the hospital where you'll be more comfortable, but since you're stable for now, we are obligated to triage the rest of the scene before deciding who gets priority.”
“Understood,” Jones assured her. “I can wait.”
As she collected her remaining equipment, her partner turned to David.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on him? I'll tell you what to watch out for.”
David hesitated, looking torn. “I…” He turned stricken eyes upon Jones. “Killian, I didn't want to give Emma one more thing to worry about, but in her message she said that Hope was... safe? I didn’t see her… and who’s taking care of her right now?”
The detective gave him the best impression of a reassuring grin that he could manage under the circumstances.
“She isn’t here, mate,” replied Jones with a definite slur to his words. He could feel some kind of narcotic beginning to take effect, blurring pain and mental acuity alike. “But she is safe and being looked after; I give you my word.”
David’s teary smile was laced with confusion. “She… but then where…?”
With a deep sigh, the detective closed his eyes and rested his head back against the hard surface behind him. “I don’t believe that’s my story to tell, David. Sorry.”
He heard the medic begin to relay quiet instructions to the prince and slitted one bleary eye open to interrupt.
“If you’d rather assist with the injured slaves, I should be okay here. This thing has an alarm, doesn’t it?” Jones indicated the portable EKG currently monitoring his heart rate. David winked at him, rubbed his eyes with one hand, and settled in next to Jones.
“Nonsense. What kind of friend would I be if I left you here all alone?” He shifted his weight a bit, trying to get comfortable. “Besides, I wouldn’t be much help anyway with one arm out of commission. Bossing the medics around, I guess, but I get the feeling they don’t need my input.”
Jones gave him the barest hint of a smile before closing heavy eyelids again. “Thank you.”
For the second time in three days, Detective Jones was reminded of that lonely Seattle night, when the poison in his heart had nearly killed him. He even had the aching soreness in his chest as an additional parallel.
How much nicer it was to have a caring friend by his side while he waited!
Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, and @killianjonesownsmyheart1 <3
***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******
4 weeks ago...
“Got ‘im?”
Detective Jones tightened the second cuff around his prisoner’s wrists, grunting,
“Yep.”
David, who was keeping a tight hold on his own feebly struggling captive, took a labored step toward the patrol car. Broken glass and splintered wood crackled underfoot, a testament to the suspects’ recent activities. With the burlap-clad man in front of him finally subdued, Jones followed his friend to the vehicle, while a glaring woman watched with her arms folded. It was her shop front that had been in the process of being vandalized, and she appeared more inclined to blame the deputies for not responding quickly enough than to thank them for preventing further damage.
His charge now safely tucked into the back seat, Jones slammed the door and then promptly peeled back the sleeve covering teeth marks imprinted into the flesh above his mechanical hand. He scowled at the throbbing injury, which was courtesy of the very same prisoner he’d just arrested: the man hadn’t taken kindly to the attempts to restrain him.
David caught a glimpse of the black and purple punctures as he came around the hood. He hissed through his teeth. “Ouch. You all right?”
Nodding, Jones said,
“It’s a good thing this isn’t a zombie apocalypse, or I’d be a goner.”
David looked startled for an instant--he had yet to get used to pop culture references from this version of Killian Jones--and then laughed nervously. “As far as we know…”
Jones allowed the sleeve to fall back into place, having assured himself that the wound was not bleeding excessively.
“You should still get it looked at,” remarked David. “Human bites are nothing to trifle with.”
With a sigh, Jones started to head for the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I know.”
“You still good to drive?”
Before Jones could answer, David’s phone rang. He immediately tensed when he saw who it was.
“Emma? What’s up; is it… did you find something…?”
Both men climbed into the car, but Jones held off starting the engine as he strained to hear the other end of the conversation. Emma didn’t sound particularly excited or emotional, so likely no news on Hope.
“Got it. We’re headed there too; see you in a bit.” David ended the call, then reached for his seatbelt. “She caught a couple more slaves at the docks and is taking them to Whale.”
Jones fired up the engine and pulled onto the street. “More vandals?”
“She didn’t say.”
One week. It had been one full week since Hope’s abduction. The search parties were dwindling in both size and enthusiasm. No one would say such a thing aloud, but the majority had to be coming to one of two conclusions, neither of them good. And to make matters worse, the slave incursions were intensifying. People were starting to get hurt.
With Emma understandably distracted and Killian still limited in his capacity for action, Detective Jones had stepped in to offer assistance, joining a reinstated David as extra deputies for a very overworked sheriff. They frequently went on patrol or responded to calls together, and already, they made an especially effective team. Part of that was due to their common goal of making things easier for two parents experiencing something that they both had reason to empathize with. But Jones also suspected that David’s relationship with the other Killian colored how he interacted with his newer friend, and it was no great effort to form a close working bond with the prince as a result.
As critical as the need to find Hope was, Jones had to admit to a certain amount of relief in dealing with other matters, such as these slave vandals. Morale could be improved significantly by having small successes unrelated to the main problem… or, perhaps, linked in a roundabout way. The part of his mind curse-trained to connect clues and pieces of assorted puzzles automatically engaged with the world around him, searching for associations.
“That’s one thing that doesn’t quite add up, for me,” admitted Jones, breaking the silence that had fallen as the occupants in the backseat recovered from the struggle. “I can understand the thefts, if this… master is running low on supplies to feed his colony. But random destruction of property? Why would he order that? What does he have to gain, as far away as his compound is?”
“Eh, maybe it’s just a side effect of the mind control. Drives ‘em crazy, makes ‘em wanna destroy stuff.”
“Could be.” Jones yielded to an elderly pedestrian waiting to cross the street, even though his arm was killing him and he wanted nothing more than to speed home to an ice pack and some aspirin.
“What I don't get,” said David, “is why he seems to target men. Have you noticed that? Like 90% of the slaves we’ve captured have been male.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s true for the makeup of his slave population as a whole. It could be that he has better control over the males, or trusts them more for his errands. Or he prefers to have the females around him, sick as that may be.”
David sighed. “I wish we had better communication with the other realms. We could go through missing persons reports and look for patterns.”
“I believe Sir Henry is coordinating that very effort,” the detective told him. “We can at least create a profile of who’s most at risk and come up with better protection measures.”
Neither of them brought up the fact that, as far as they knew, Hope was the only 3-year-old among the missing. The only child, period.
Upon reaching the hospital, Jones pulled into a spot reserved for law enforcement vehicles, just behind Emma’s yellow bug. He and David each retrieved a slave passenger, both of whom were now mumbling the familiar plea to be allowed to return to their master.
The four of them were intercepted by an orderly before they’d even stepped through the door.
“This way,” they were directed. “Dr. Whale and the sheriff are in Room 7.”
Room 7 was occupied by two more twitchy slaves in addition to Whale, Emma, and a nurse. There were also two empty wheelchairs provided for the new arrivals, and the deputies had no trouble securing them in place to await evaluation and admission. Over the low repetition of brainwashed ramblings, the physician was conferring with his nurse, while Emma kept a sharp eye out for trouble. David moved closer to her.
“Hey.” He greeted her with a quick hug, which she returned stiffly. “Anything new? As… as far as…”
Emma shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him, but they could both see the set of her jaw and the steel in her gaze as she reached up to clutch at the shell necklace she wore. David put his arm around her in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.
“I’m sorry, Emma. But, listen, we’ll… I’m sure we’ll find something soon. Has Regina gotten back to you yet about that locator spell? If she was able to make it work even with the magical shield thing?”
Emma heaved a huge sigh, and Jones braced himself to hear a negative on that count. But her following statement was unexpected, and seemingly unrelated.
“Killian’s gone.”
Jones thought he detected fear, pain, and a little bit of resentment under her carefully casual tone.
“Gone where?” he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. Emma rubbed at her eyes as she struggled to hold onto her composure.
“He’s convinced the monster has her. He’s going to try and get her back.”
David paled, concern prominent on his features. “By himself? What is he thinking?”
“I don’t know! That he can trade himself, maybe? That the monster will tell him where she is so he can break her out? That he’s some damn immortal hero who can single-handedly defeat the guy we’ve been trying for weeks to get at?!” With effort, she reined in her frustration and lowered the volume of her voice. “Classic, idiotic Killian BS.”
Emma glanced brazenly at Jones, daring him to protest. Instead, he inclined his head in solemn agreement. He wasn’t denying the idiocy of the action… but neither would he condemn it or pretend not to understand. Desperation was an all-too familiar burden for him.
“We should go after him,” fidgeted David. “Maybe we could catch up before--”
“No.”
Emma’s voice was so clear and commanding that even Dr. Whale stopped what he was doing to look over at her. Tears were threatening to fall now, but she never lost her air of authority. “We could send the whole town after him, and there would still be enough slaves to fight us off. A big battle means more chance that Killian or… or Hope--” here she cleared her throat as her voice cracked--“dies. So no, we won’t be going after him. Not this time. He made his choice.”
Jones and David exchanged a look. Was this truly the same woman who had risked everything to follow her husband into the Underworld for a rescue? Gently, David began,
“Emma… you’re hurting, and we get it, but maybe we should discuss this.”
“No, Dad,” she hissed back. “No one else goes on a suicide mission. I couldn’t take it.” She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes while David ran his hand up and down her back. “Until we have a solid plan… Killian stays where he is.”
Though it obviously pained him to do so, David nodded a slow acceptance of her statement. The problem was that they were no closer to coming up with a viable plan of action, while the urgency of the situation kept escalating. Sighing, David stepped back.
“What do you need right now? How can we best help you today?”
Emma watched Dr. Whale for a long moment; he had moved on to his assessment of the second slave and seemed to have things well in hand. “I’m gonna stay here and make sure there’s no trouble getting these guys secured. Maybe you could head to the station and check for new messages, any reports or new information. And I guess call Regina for an update.”
“Done.” David turned to Jones and gestured at his wounded arm. “Come on, partner. I’ll walk you down to Urgent Care and we can call the queen while you wait.”
Emma cast a critical eye in the detective’s direction; he made a face and waved off the concern. She didn’t press for details. David drew her in for one more hug, placing a kiss on top of her head.
I dont know if you've done it yet but CaptainSnowing? (Rogers Obviously)
Well they have their older kids:
Emma
Alice
& Neal
If they had a kid together….
Name: Felicity Charming
Gender: Female
General Appearance: Brown hair and hazel eyes. She tends to dress like her older sisters, lots of plaid and jeans.
Personality: A bit of a quiet and shy kid, she doesn’t like to socialize and would rather stay at home reading or painting, maybe playing chess.
Special Talents: Her dads taught her to sword fight and her mom has shown her way around an arrow. She does have a bit of magic like her siblings, however, she doesn’t have interest in using it like them. And there’s no real reason for her to have to.
Who they like better: She’s close with David. While he likes crowds and hanging out with people, he’s a lot better at just relaxing and laying low. It’s what he prefers. She loves all her parents equally, though.
Who they take after more: She looks like a mixture of Snow and Killian, but doesn’t really have any of their personalities.
Personal Head canon: When she’s 12, she gets in a fight with her parents and steals the Jolly, going on an adventure on her own. It takes a few days to get her back and it’s then she starts to realize that maybe she’ll be the first of her siblings to be a pirate when she grows up.
Mary Margaret’s best friend in high school was always Ruby, who was two grades above her. They’ve stayed close ever since. Ruby is now engaged to town shrink, Archie Hopper and the two of them are harboring a pretty big secret.
David has been living with Killian Rogers for 7 years, helping him raise his daughter, Alice. She considers him like a father figure, but doesn’t know about Emma. Killian always knew, though.
And of course, Emma only has one friend right now: August Booth, He’s gone back to Boston...for now.
They’d have a pretty big family, haha. In my mind, they get together after the realms unite, causing Alice, Robin and Emma to de-age. Regina is helping Snowing, who’s bonded with WHook during all of this. Over the years, they fall for each other and Snow ends up having another child when Emma and Alice are a little older.
Their family…
Henry (38)
Neal (25)
Emma (12)
Alice (12)
& their youngest…
Name: Moses (8 years old)
Gender: Male
General Appearance: Brown hair and hazel eyes. He’s too young to really care about what he wears, his parents still pick it out for him.
Personality: As the youngest of the family, he’s pretty spoiled and thrives off of it. He’s not a brat, but is very confident in himself. The type to go up to anyone and strike up a conversation.
Special Talents: Like his older brothers, he loves books and goes through them so quickly.
Who they like better: He doesn’t really have a favorite parent, they’re all still pretty cool in his eyes. The coolest person on Earth to him, though? His big sister Alice. She can paint awesome pictures and is teaching him how to do it too.
Who they take after more: He looks like a mixture of Snow and Killian, with the latter’s personality.
Personal Head canon: Like all of his siblings (and members of their family, really), Moses has been kidnapped. George escaped from the asylum once the realms merged and tried to kidnap him to be his heir. David found him rather quickly and they dueled, George finally getting what he deserved when one of his own former knights killed him.
