And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Summary: Killian should have known to keep his flask close when a mad
scientist was on the loose. But at least werewolves don’t drink rum,
right? (1.9k, rated PG)
A/N: Okay, @cocohook38, here’s part 2 ;) It’s finally behaving! Which is more than I can say for Killian’s new wolf side… Thank you to everyone who’s read/commented so far! I didn’t think this would get much attention but I’m glad to see I thought wrong! It’ll probably be 4-5 parts when it’s all done. It’s now on AO3, and I’m including the link to the AMAZING art Jules made for part 1!
Ever since he took that sip of what clearly was not rum, Killian’s world had been pain, chaos, and muddled consciousness. All that was really clear was the horror as he saw the fear in Emma’s eyes and heard the panic in her voice, and the sudden realization that she was hurt and he’d caused it because of—whatever he now was. Had he heard her right? Did she say…werewolf?
His body was unfamiliar and his senses were heightened, making everything both a blur and move in slow motion as he tore across town under the almost-full moon. He was practically drowning from sensory overload—everything was too loud, too bright, too pungent. He didn’t even notice the squealing of brakes until a car stopped inches from him, lights nearly blinding him, and making him jump and yelp and instinctively dart off in another direction.
Storybrooke was too much to handle, so he ran toward the only place he could think of where things were usually calmer. As he got closer, the crash of the ocean on the shore made his ears twitch and the tang of seawater stung his sensitive nose so much sharper than it usually did. But still he ran, to where he at least had a chance at isolation and getting the beast that had settled within under control. Because even when he was making a conscious decision, there was now a new entity residing in the back of his brain, clawing for release. He’d already been through that once, with the Darkness; having it again was agitating and distressing.
He pounded up the gangplank to the dock of the Jolly Roger, and practically fell through the hatch to the captain’s quarters, missing several steps of the steep ladder and rolling across the floor of the dark room. The impact stung, but less than he expected, and he was quickly able to right himself and hopped up on the bed.
Without thought, he paced in a circle before settling down—the wolf was surfacing again, and he growled as he beat the beast back. Staying alert was more draining than he realized, though, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep it up. At least here, alone on the ship, there would be less temptation for the monster until he either changed back on his own or had enough command to face people again.
Because if the wolf had attacked Emma—his true love, of all people—what else would it—he—do to someone else? He buried his head in his paws at the memory, trying to block it out, but all that played in his head was the image of Emma, afraid of him. After all they’d been through, how could it come to this?
He was just drifting off to what was going to be a fitful slumber when footsteps creaked on the deck above, perking up his ears and rousing him to consciousness. The steps got closer, and he got a whiff of something familiar—something human—when the wolf regained control.
One thing that I appreciate about some people is their willingness to work, so that we can produce content and share with it with the world. Tshimo (model) is one such person who does not mind working, I like that about her.
This is what we were able to create, not so long ago; beauty portrait.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
It was the middle of the night and your phone was ringing: It’s me Jiyong, answer the phone. YAH! Answer the phone!! You felt around for it on your nightstand. You put the phone to your ear. “Why do you insist on disturbing my sleep Kwon Jiyong?”
FEEL FREE TO REQUEST AN IDEA/SCENARIO FOR FUTURE PREFRENCES ! :)
IT’S SHIP HOUR! ..
Nash-You sat at the airport with your hand tangled with Nash’s. Your throat was tight and dry as you tried to swallow, and the uncomfortable plastic chairs were making you soar. Your eyes darted over to Nash, and he gave you a small smile. “Flight 361 to London, England is now boarding,” a voice sounded through the speakers, as you let out a choppy sigh. Nash stood up, you mimicking his actions. All he did was pull you into his arms, and you tried all you could not to cry. “Do you have to go, Nash?” you whispered, and you heard him sigh. “Yes, baby. But I will be back before you know it. Only 12 weeks,” he told you. You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “That’s three months, Nash,” he smiled at you, kissing your lips. You buried your face in his chest again and you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, for ten minutes. “Last call for flight 361,” the voice that you dreaded said. “That’s me, honey,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He let go of you, grabbing onto your hand and his suitcase. He took a step away from you, dropping your hand and walking off, giving you on last look as he handed the ticket to the lady.
Cameron-The car ride to the airport was uncomfortable. Cameron kept looking at you, but your head was pressed against the window, looking at the road that trailed behind the car. He grabbed your hand, smiling at you. You smiled back, but it was forced. “Hey (Y/N), can you go in my bag and grab my ticket?” he asked and you nodded. You searched through his bag, grabbing two slips of paper. “Cam, why do you have two tickets?” you asked, confused as he smiled, looking back at the road. “Well, for the past couple days I was thinking of creative ways to say goodbye, but I couldn’t think of one because saying goodbye would just be too sad. So since I could never live without my girl, I decided you could tag along with me,” he finished, and you were shocked. “No, you’re joking,” you started to smile. He shook his head and you reached up to kiss his cheek.
Taylor- (Y/N), aren’t you going to get up to come say bye?” Taylor asked from the doorway. Your face was buried in a pillow and you laid on your bed on your stomach. You rolled over and looked at him. He gave you a goofy smile and you giggled. He came over to the bed and laid on top of you, kissing your lips. “I’m going to miss that giggle,” he sighed, staring at your lips. You closed your eyes, and he kissed you again, putting both of his large hands on your cheeks. “What if you do this with someone else when you get bored in two weeks?” You ask him. “I would never,” he replied, “I love you and only you.” “Promise?” “Promise,” he locked his pinky in yours.
Jack Johnson- Jack took you to lunch before he went to the airport. It was filled with laughing, as you were trying to avoid what was coming in the next couple hours. “Please promise me you won’t dread on me leaving for the two months that I’m gone,” he tells you, as you look up at him from your meal. “I won’t, I mean I’ll be sad, but I won’t let it effect me.” “Good,” he answered back, grabbing your hand from across the table. “I love you,” he says, and you repeat the words.
Jack Gilinsky- “Do you have to go?” You ask, biting your lip and wrapping your arms around Jack, who was packing. He turned around, grabbing you and scooping you up into his arms. “Yes,” he places a kiss on your lips, “I have to go.” His says it in the same tone you did when you asked. You smile, resting your head in his chest. “But I’m going to miss you so much baby,” he tells you. “I’m going to miss you more.” He looks at you, “Are you going to find another guy while I’m gone?” You roll your eyes. “Jack, you know I could never do that.” And kisses you once more. “And I could never do that to you, either.”
Aaron- Aaron was almost as upset as you were the night before he had to leave. He was crying a lot and you two were cuddling. “I don’t get why my manager won’t let you come,” he stutters, sniffling. “Because he said you were too distracted last time,” you told him, stroking his head. Last time you came with Aaron on tour he followed you around like a lost puppy, only wanted to stay with you, and wouldn’t pay attention to anything else but you. His manager loved you, but it was for the best. “You’ll be back before we know it, sweetie,” you told him and he nodded. “I love you,” he said. “I love you too,” you replied, kissing him.
Matt- Matt’s plane was delayed for an hour so you both had an hour to kill at the airport. He rested his head in your lap. “So what do we do?” He asked with no emotion. He seemed almost drained, and you hated seeing Matt like that. “Let’s play hide and seek!” You got up, running away. “You’re it!” You yelled, and he just shook his head, smiling. He chased after you, finally grabbing you and pulling you into his arms. “You’re it,” he whisper against your lips, closing the gap.
Carter- “I love you,” he told you. “I love you more,” you replied, leaning against him. “No,” he trailed off, pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back, and Carter rested his hand on your butt. “Carter, stop,” you exclaimed, pulling away. He laughed. He mimicked you, “Carter, stop!” You just laughed. “I’m going to miss you, babe,” he said, kissing you again.
Shawn- “You’re no fair,” you told Shawn, smiling. He widened his eyes, “And why is that?” “You get to go on your with Austin Mahome,” you whined. He smiled. “You get to come see us in a month,” he told you. “A month and two weeks,” you corrected. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so negative,” he smiled backing you up against a wall, kissing you.
"Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall Heard only in the trances of the blast, Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.”