anna, 22, germany. I have a weakness for cookies, flowers, the smell of grass and wasting my life wondering about little things and grander schemes. this is where all of this comes together. bear with me, I complain a lot and have urges to be funny sometimes.

tracked tag: singingfirefliess.

endings / part four: the world of the living

Summary: Nothing is made to last. Five different scenarios for Emma and Killian to end.

part one / part two / part three

Also on AO3 and

. .

part four. the world of the living

There is a man who would give his life to keep a life you love beside you. Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

David is quick on his feet behind him, and Killian feels the weight of his decision heavily upon his shoulders. The sky is tinted red as blood, and the bean in his palm has lost all its beauty in the darkening light. There is a loud thunder, and the air they breathe is barely enough to keep them alive. It feels as if life itself is being sucked out of the town.

The pull of the underworld that radiates off the ebony coin that David carries is sickening and terrifying. No good thoughts can endure for long. The plan to send it through a portal has been a desperate one.


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"One of the first houses we lived in was like out of a fairy story. We had a stream that ran through our garden, and we played with the ducks - we locked them in my mum’s office and they pooed everywhere. It was crazy, picking blackberries and mushrooms, rabbits running through your legs." — Emilia Clarke for Flare Magazine (2014)


(by Joeyful~)

Harry Potter locations


[by Caroline Tran]


waterfallrevisited by tina quin (2013)


endings / part three: black swan

Summary: Nothing is made to last. Five different scenarios for Emma and Killian to end.

part one / part two

Also on AO3 and

. .

part three. black swan

The silver swan, who, living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat. Orlando Gibbons

Emma knows how the story will end.

Still, if there is one thing his love for her has changed, it is her capacity to hope. She does, so dearly, clings to the thin thread of hope each day and night, from the moment the sun sets and turns her into her human form until it rises once more and tints the sky with blood and gives her wings.

If only she could use them to fly, to break free. Instead, she is chained to the dark lake, as clear as tears once the moon shines upon it. The bittersweet sight of the ruins of what was once a chapel haunts her, representing all her dreams, all of them now scattered in the wind, shining shards that sparkle as stars at night.


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 by wicc4n