#and we are getting new content that changes and maybe even rectifies many of the ways we see and interact w aftg

[dayurno]

this is somewhat of a vent post & something i said i would not do again but has been plaguing me enough that i think getting it out might feel better. so. has anydoggy else been. Baffled and upset by nora sakavic’s refusal to speak on how terribly aftg has treated its characters of color? with the author of the series coming back with a new book and starting up on her online activity again, and questions of what she’d change about aftg bubbling up, it’s particularly glaring to me that we are all playing this very long game of pretend where we ignore how badly the non-white cast has been treated & her lack of thoughts on it

and i understand not wanting to bring up nicky and thea because people pick on her for it. i’m not trying to discredit nora sakavic’s terrible history of getting harrassed online by aftg fans. but i think it is very cynical, and it is very juvenile, and most of all very cruel, that she gets to ignore the very real ways the books have set up these characters to be hated. i think it’s obvious why the characters who get the most hate are the only canonical characters of color, and i think we do not get to treat this like a deliberate decision on the fandom’s part when the books have put these same characters in degrading and embarrassing and terrible positions in the first place. aftg is not a story about nice characters with clean pasts, but there is a very specific nastiness to the only characters of color being a brown man who sexually harasses and later assaults the main character, a black woman whose only scene is her lashing out at her love interest after being ignored for the first two books, and the japanese villain who gets maybe two lines of complexity before he goes back to being a terrible person. the white cast, in comparison, while not at all free from flaws, are never shown to commit mindless evil; all of their actions are ultimately justified. the book goes out of its way to give them concession after concession. we know exactly who to side with, because aftg tells us who these people are. does nicky’s assault ever get addressed in the books? does riko’s reasoning to be the way that he is ever gets more than briefly aluded to? is thea reserved even a shred of humanity or grace in her one scene?

anyway. it’s been years of talking about this and the fandom has been constantly hostile to criticism in this regard, and more recently any criticism at all, and it’s Grating to be on the other side of this discussion. it’s exhausting to know that in ten years we do not get even an acknowledgment besides the author saying she will not answer questions about nicky and thea anymore. it’s upsetting and it’s ugly and i wish no one had to talk about this again, but we do because what i thought was common sense has been washed away by a sudden influx of no-nuance adoration for the trilogy. basically i hope we all explode

two hours later edit: you're allowed to reblog this! sorry about the confusion

[aphrodite1288]

While I agree he’s a private person and doesnt like posting on SNS I can’t help but feel that there are some things which his fans have the right to be annoyed about? like it’s weird not to post the PO links and even if you forget, why not rectify the mistake? Or that there’s less than 2 weeks till the cb and they still haven’t changed the layout? I agree with previous anon about his fanbase and why SM wouldn’t want to sabotage but I also can see why his fans are upset

I agree with your Boo. I already talked about how frustrated I was abt the P.O link issue.

And the fucked up album details layout? Did u see that?? My 7 y.o cousin could make better wallpapers and edits.

Sis I hate SM and I talked about how they sabotaged all the members, heck all their other bands except for Ae/spa and N/Ct maybe, taeyeon. I mean.. it's not a new thing for SM. Sabotaging their idols. There's no favoritism in sabotaging their idols in SM 😂

But the issue i was talking about is the self-promoting. ksoo is not self-promoting himself. Unlike what all idols are doing recently! The self-promoting on SNS PLATFORMS became a trend among all idols recently. And Ksoo could do that no one would tell him not to make an iG account or a YT channel like Jongdae to share his singing career there to self promote his projects, but he doesn't want to 🤷🏻‍♀️ maybe later ? I hope so. When he is ready.

Ji said it himself today during the live, He did all the variety shows Marathon just to keep us busy coz Exo ain't active and he is a sweetheart for that! But guess what? Ksoo solo stans are hating on him saying he is stealing the spotlight from ksoo and SM's favoritism towards Ji is obvious coz he's the only one SM is giving schedule too! But NO! he said it himself he got CALLED/INVITED to variety shows and He decided to go coz he said he wants us to have content and to not feel bored and to see him all the time coz of the lack of Exo content, he is thinking of his fans but his fans are hating and shading on him for being the most active member and that his opportunities should go to Ksoo instead ??? Did u see the drama on twitter?? Ksoo solo stans and Sehun solo stans are trashing on him. It's pathetic.

Ji said it himself. He was asked by many variety shows to join and he chose which ones he liked the concept the most and accepted to join! Coz HE WANTS EXOL TO SEE HIM MORE ON TV COZ EXO R ON HIATUS.

So not being on variety shows, I believe it's just mere Ksoo's decision 🤷🏻‍♀️ and Ji has no interference in it, he is not the one to be blamed like how Exol are blaming h and trashing on him saying sM prefers h over Ksoo and SM is promoting Ji rather than promoting ksoo who would just debut! Sis peeps arw hating on Ji for having a comeback! They said Ji is trying to steal the spotlight from Soo and why is he making his comeback right after Ksoo's debut and that he didn't I'm purpose to take the spotlight from Soo. Hahahahah they're pathetic I swear.

So yeah what I think : Ksoo gets invited to variety shows but maybe going alone is not his thing, maybe he is not the variety talkative character type, maybe he doesn't like variety shows 🤷🏻‍♀️ Maybe he is still not ready to build this Variety character like how Ji did.

Maybe he is not too confident with his Variety show skills and communication skills and the amount of humour variety shows require. Etc..

Also HE IS BUSY SIS. I'm sure He is now focusing on his Singing and acting career and doing it diligently and trying to improve himself in those fileds til perfection, maybe when he is completely satisfied with himself and had reached the level of professionalism he is seeking in those two fields, maybe then he will be ready to take risks and jump into a new field of variety shows maybe cooking shows and opening a new chapter and a new experience in his life/career.

What i wanted to say is, it's still early to judge SM's sabotaging and terrible promotions for him, while we still have less than two weeks for the debut and we don't know what they had prepared for him after the album release????🤷🏻‍♀️

So let's be patient, We can trash on sM later when they wouldn't do their job. Which I'm sure we will.

I mean can't trust SM, I'm still waiting to be disappointed in them but it's still early now to trash on them. We have plenty of time to do that later

Coz I'm sure they're gonna suck at promoting both Ksoo and Ji solos.

[hartmonfest]

[ID: Banner background has watercolors rainbow flag painted vertically. Text in the center reads “Hartmonfest 2021 Masterlist”. Either side of the text is a circular picture for each character looking casual and happy with a bright contrasting background. Hartley Rathaway is on the left and Cisco Ramon on the right. /END ID]

Apologies for getting the masterlist up much later than originally promised. Thanks to all who made fanworks for this event - it was great to have a couple of weeks with much more Hartmon content than usual. If you haven’t already, please do show the creators some love if you’re able to.

Full list behind the read more (17 fanfics and 1 set of fic recs).

FANFIC: “Sick For the Holiday” by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

Cisco wakes up with a cold on Thanksgiving morning.  Thankfully he’s got a doting boyfriend to take care of him.

FANFIC: “Paradise Parade” by @blueelvewithwings - tumblr | AO3

Hartley and Cisco go to the Pride Parade, where Cisco watches all the floats and Hartley mostly watches Cisco. With heart eyes, of course.

FANFIC: “Unpacking the Accelerator (The Broken Pedestal)“ by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

The information on the Flash's personal frequency was only ever a distraction so that no one would realize that Hartley had actually installed a virus in the system in order to steal terabytes worth of data on the accelerator.  Which is promptly dumped online. Of course, data is useless without context, but that's where Hartley's new blog comes into play.

FANFIC: “Where Have All the Blue Skies Gone?“ by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

The Crisis is over and Barry is dead.  And now everyone who loved him has to figure out how to pick up the pieces. Cisco's not sure how to do that yet. He just knows he doesn't want his jagged edges hurting Hartley.

FANFIC: “Shoulder of Support“ by @blueelvewithwings  - tumblr | AO3

Cisco wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Hartley sleeping on his tiny couch. This is not acceptable, and clearly needs to be rectified.

FANFIC: “Five Times Hartley Needed Support (And One Time He Got It)“ by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

It's always been difficult for Hartley to find support from his loved ones. (But somehow Cisco makes it easy...)

FANFIC: “Undercover“ by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

Hartley's gotten into more than his fair share of trouble of the last few years, but his latest misadventure has put him on the FBI's radar and the only way to get out of trouble is to go undercover at STAR Labs to investigate whatever it is wrong with the accelerator that's getting former employees killed to shut them up. This'd probably be easier if one of Hartley's new coworkers wasn't the single most distractingly sexy person Hartley's ever met.

FANFIC: “Undercover Under Covers“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

Cisco is at Saints and Sinners, trying to spy on the Rogues. Unfortunately, a too-handsy mobster tries to make his advances... until Hartley rescues him. And then, really, it all just kind of goes downhill from there. Or uphill?       AKA Hartley sucks on a lollipop and Cisco has a Big Oral Fixation.

FANFIC: “To Know Oneself“ by @kitkatt0430​ - tumblr | AO3

Hartley's absolutely certain that if Cisco could remember their shared past then he wouldn't be flirting so outrageously.  Cisco's equally certain that even when he gets his memories back he'll want to shove Hartley against the nearest hard surface and kiss Hartley until his brain reboots.

FANFIC: “Inflictions of Identity“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

Hartley hates Pride Month, he wants nothing to do with it. Most of that boils down to how he really really wishes he wasn't gay. Over a course of a rainbow-filled June, and with Cisco's help, he slowly learns to see that maybe, just maybe, being who he is is something to be proud of, after all.  Cisco's confectionary treats along the way certainly help a lot, as well.

RECS: 7 fic recs by @kitkatt0430​ - tumblr

FANFIC: “Signs of Change“ by @kitkatt0430​ - tumblr | AO3

Cisco keeps dreaming about this hallway full of blue-gray doors.   Except for one.  There's this one door that's red.  And maybe it's a vision or maybe it's just a dream indicating an impending change. Life keeps changing so fast and, as the only person left at STAR Labs, Cisco's maybe a little afraid he's been left behind while everyone else moves on.  Of course... life has a way of sweeping everyone up eventually.

FANFIC: “Tender Trust“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

Cisco wants to give Hartley a massage to help him relax after a long day. Hartley is pretty sure Cisco just wants to get him nice and pliable so he can hurt or fuck him better. Of course, Cisco does no such thing.

FANFIC: “Trust Fall“ by @kitkatt0430 - tumblr | AO3

Hartley's really not sure trusting Cisco is a great idea.  Just because the guy has had an attack of conscience over the unethical prison in STAR Labs basement doesn't mean he's going to be a reliable partner in Hartley's quest for vengeance against Harrison Wells. But if Hartley wants to make progress in shutting down the Pipeline Prison, then he doesn't really have a choice. Meanwhile Cisco's trust in Dr. Wells has been shattered by the discovery that his mentor not only deliberately ignored the flaws in the accelerator, but has been secretly studying meta humans.  Many of whom - like Cisco himself - haven't even manifested powers yet.  But Cisco doesn't want to believe his trust in Caitlin and Barry has been misplaced, even as he commits to throwing in his lot with Hartley.

FANFIC: “Modern Marriage“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

Hartley is less than thrilled to meet the next person his parents throw at him to marry, but for the sake of not getting carted off to conversion therapy, he's willing to take that step... When he meets Cisco, he realises that things are not as dire as they might seem, if they play their cards right.

FANFIC: “Merriest of Memories“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

A little glimpse of memories held dear and captured in photographs - a birthday, sibling love, the happiest day, newfound family.

FANFIC: “Begin Again with New Beginnings“ by @blueelvewithwings​ - tumblr | AO3

The last person Cisco expected to run into at the Coast City Jitters is Hartley Rathaway. No. The last person Cisco expected to run into at the Coast City Jitters is a smiling Hartley Rathaway.

FANFIC: “Rip Van Winkle“ by @kitkatt0430​ - tumblr | AO3

The last thing Hartley remembers is heading for the pipeline with Ronnie and Cisco.  And then he's waking up in the Cortex, Flyleaf playing in the background.  It's six months later and the whole world has turned itself upside down.

If anyone made anything we didn’t spot and reblog/include here, do let us know as things turning up in the tags can be very hit and miss.

We hope you enjoyed the fest, and if anyone wants to make anything for the prompts after the fest we’d still be happy to reblog any additional fanworks. :)

[hungryflowers]

Sensing Lamentation

Title: Sensing Lamentation

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Continuity: Balan Wonderworld

Character Relationship(s): Leo Craig/Balan

Character(s): Leo, Balan, Past Character (Unnamed), Lance (Only Mentioned)

A/N: I’ve been in a funk for quite awhile, so I decided to do this to hopefully make me feel better. 2020 was a rough year and these last few days have torn out my soul. I want to write this as a small means of healing myself. Also, I’m a slight out of practice with my writing craft, so if any errors, I apologize.

Other: This isn’t a ship! Regardless of what the ‘Character Relationship’ part says, keep in mind that Leo is fifteen years old and Balan is potentially eldritch aged. He’s seen all sides of humanity, so he gets it. He’s not attracted to the boy, nor will I write him to be. Just putting that out there before y’all get to thinking that he a ‘cradle robber’ who lures in heartbroken kids.

He was more than content with sitting in the whist, luminescent room. Parchment on one end, tar-like ink on the other, the Maestro had made a day for himself to just... create. A tune swirled in his mind, the musings of the melody playing on repeat as he etched time out of his day to put it to paper. The endeavor was not a failed one, yet it hardly yielded the desired results. Feather to temple, Balan stretched his elongated back. Sunlight had eluded him in the short time he sat. Eyes glanced for the nearest time telling device in the room; eight forty-five. He had been at the same table, staying finicky over the same paper for the same tune for nearly four hours. Not a new reaction, yet he was normally more productive. Sighing, he adjusted his wide-brimmed top hat as he moved around to restock, stock, or keep tabs on anything necessary for anymore acts. 

The little tims peeped and scuttle along, following the maestro as if he’d been a pied piper. Playful eyes shimmered with glee as he picked up the few that straddled his lanky legs. Placing them on a crate, he kept at his inventory. They still peeped and chimed, more frequent and annoyed. 

“None of that...” A quiescent quip from the maestro had them calmed. It seemed that have to find another opportunity to have Balan’s attention. 

In the after math of busying himself with caring for little things, the maestro had failed to notice, or hear the subtle steps of a child passing by. The shock of hearing another breathing individual was enough to make him pause. Standing to his full height Balan went around looking for the soul whom had trespassed without him acknowledgement. He was quite forthcoming with introductions or having someone speaking to him before departing. It was in good manner to appear respectful to those around you. 

The steps he had neglected to hear before ventured up the stairs to the next floor. Which was quite odd, as only guests that Balan himself invited, or staff that convened there, were allowed upstairs. He had to rectify this immediately. Snooping was not tolerated under the maestro’s gaze. He kept his eyes on a sleeping chamber that was lit behind the sturdy mahogany door as he crept up the spiral staircase. On a normal day, he’d just float up and push open the door, however he still had enough respect to announce his presence before coming in. 

Standing in front of the door, his hand went to jiggle the handle, only to stop at the softest sounds of what he knew as sorrow. Eyes widened, his hand came off the knob as if he had been burned by it. There was a little one... softly sobbing in the chambers. He fought against an unusual impulse to shove himself inside, yet the longer he listened, the harder it became to ignore. He reminded himself to adhere to the rules and guidelines he had made for himself and Lance: do not interfere unless the justification is absolute. For some unspoken reason he felt the need to disregard his rule this only time. And with that impactful instinct hammering into him, he gave in. 

He knocked loud enough for the little soul to hear yet did not speak, waiting for someone to answer or reply. There was one solid minute without noise, the little one seeming to buck up after hearing the knock. When Balan knocked again, he earned a response, “Who is it? What do you want?”

Balan recognized the young man’s voice instantly. A shadow of sadness glazing his stare as he leant on the door a bit. What was making Leo so upset? Who could have caused such an unrest in the boy’s spirit?

“Leo... It’s Balan. May I come in?” He slid to his knees, in case the boy would open for him. After a moment, the heavy door slowly crept open, for Balan to view the young visitor’s face; that now appears wet from tears. 

Instead of asking too many questions, Balan just slid a bit closer to Leo, arms stretched enough to reach but not touch. A simple gesture to show he’d be there for him. 

Leo glanced at the gesture, measuring it to see what he’d want to do. His shoeless feet pawed the hardwood as he contemplated what he would do. He thought it would be best for the maestro to disregard the idea of comforting him. He’d remain a soldier fighting a battle on his own. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want that. And that juggle of care and carelessness caused more tears to well in his eyes before he opened his mouth. He barely caught a sniffle before he felt his feet leaving the floor. Blue eyes scanned his surroundings before he gauged that he was in Balan’s arms, embrace pulling him softly to his chest. Agony gripped the young boy as he sobbed into the maestro’s shoulder, tiny hands gripping him as if he’d disappear. 

Balan remained on his knees as the boy broke down, sun-yellow eyes closing as he allowed him the ability to let go. To let it hurt... if only for a while. The boy continued to sob as he motioned to stand, going into the chambers as his hands patted Leo’s back, slowing going into his hair to bring him closer. That hymn, the song Balan could not put to sheet, or find the right words to, came back. Only this time, the humming bled into words,

“When there is light, a shadow appears                                                                   the cause and effect, when life interferes                                                               the same rule applies to goodness and grief;                                                         for in our great sorrow, we learn what joy means,”

His little visitor opened his eyes in an attempt to look at Balan as he sang aloud. While he could see his smile, the wide brim of his hat obscured the rest of his face. He wanted to look at the maestro fully as he hummed the rest of the tune, rocking and hugging him as a mother would do for a babe. 

The maestro himself continued to hum the melody while pressing in as close as allowed. Softening his grip, he brought the little one to look at him. And became overwhelmed with the glowing vision of the boy staring back at him. Trusting him in this way. Words were not required to be exchanged while the maestro strode slowly to the large bed to lay him down. While Leo calmed down, Balan brought a chair over to sit near the bed’s end. 

“Leo, what troubles you little one? You can tell me. This place,” he moved his arms around the chambers, “is completely safe. Nothing leaves here. Your sacred words are for my ears only. Words that I will keep close to me. I promise.” He placed his immense hand on Leo’s shoulder as the boy relaxed into it. Taking a breath, he soothed over his raked nerves while he thought of the right thing to say. His chest appeared tighter than normal, fingers lacing together and fidgeting. In spite of his bravery to show his emotions to Balan, he still felt like a wounded, stubborn soldier; unable to admit that his wounds were draining him. His eyes strewn about the room instead of interacting with the tall, lanky figure.

Balan did nothing to prompt the boy to say anything quickly. No means to force him to confess to what was ailing him in this way without volition. So he waited. Patient and understanding. He’d talk when it is time. He watched him take a few short breaths then they locked eyes once more. The fragility was nearly enough to break the maestro’s heart. 

“I...I was just really upset about someone I used to know. We were real close. I loved them... they were like a sibling to me,” Leo sniffled as he pulled his hair back, “But then I said something wrong... and so did they. And then we never saw each other again. I didn’t... mean what I said, but I-I was just so-”

“Angry,” Balan stated, “You lashed out at them and now you’re feeling extreme guilt for it.”

“I guess I’m madder at myself because I left without giving them a reason, but what could I say?,” The young teen looked at the bed sheets as he rubbed his nose, “Have you ever been in my situation before?” Leo inquired after a second of thought. 

Balan blinked rapidly, the small smile he kept fading in surprise. It was an emboldened inquiry. Aureate eyes slid closed, reminiscing to the time he and Lance fell out. Harshly. Only, it was not Balan who attacked with scathing words. Nothing more could be said between as the maestro departed from the other with bolide of tears streaking the cosmos in his wake. Lance never created the courage to apologize for those words, no matter how many times Balan imagined that he would. It came as an acceptance of bad pride on both ends that kept the healing away from the two of them. Even if Balan was no longer in need of the healing. The words were said, there could be nothing in Wonderworld or in the actual world to change that. 

“Yes... but it was at a time I no longer remember.” Balan did not meet Leo’s eyes this time. His words were satisfying enough for Leo but he knew there was more to the story. 

“All I want to do is say sorry. But it’s too late.” The young boy put his head in his hands, a miserable whimper coming forth.

“Maybe... maybe not. Leo, I may not be able to give the proper answer about how you can ask for your friend’s forgiveness. However, I do know how you can forgive yourself. And that is to accept that friends can genuinely drift apart. Something in the relationship fissures and causes both of you to turn away from each other. You can accept the blame, Leo. That’s okay. But you shouldn’t be hurting yourself with that blame.” Balan’s gloved hand pressed to Leo’s cheek, making the teen look at him. The way that Balan smiled made Leo’s lip curl in sweet smile as well. 

“Thank you... so much. I really needed to hear that. I just felt like it was all my fault.” He pressed himself into the gloved hand, warmth radiating off the limb. 

“You’re most welcome, little one. And know that I’m here for you. With any insecurity, I’ll help you in the best way I can,” His head pressed to Leo’s, well not quite. The large hat obscuring leant on the boy’s forehead, which felt annoying for the point he was attempting to make. He half sighed and laughed before standing out of the chair. 

“One thing. Remember when I said that sacred secrets do not leave this space?”Balan’s tone hinted at something yet Leo couldn’t find what about it, so instead he stiffly nodded, “Okay good. Because I have a very sacred secret to show you. Only you.” He cooed as his hands went to his hat, the article of fabric coming off his face and head with a slow tug. With a shake, jade colored dreads fell free, his gloved hands fluffing them as he pushed a threaded dread away from his forehead. 

“There we go,” He stated mutely as he put the hat on a vanity in the corner, moving to sit back down in front of the awestruck child, “Yes I know. I’m so funny looking.” He grinned cheerily before setting his hands atop the bedsheets. 

“No you’re not...”, Leo scooted closer to Balan, the maestro still grinning happily as he did, “You look so beautiful.” The teen breathed whimsically, as if entranced by the sight of him. 

The grin was pulled off Balan’s face so quick, Leo felt as if he had offended him. Golden eyes flickering like candlelight in the lucent, yet dark room. For a fraction of a second, the world spun. He could see stars on the brim of his vision. After a great upheaval of air from his lungs, Balan came back. 

“Beautiful...? No one’s ever called me that before.” He chuckled sheepishly as he smoothed over his dreads. 

“But can I call you beautiful?” Leo became a bit shy, the poor boy looked as if he did something wrong. 

“If that helps, then yes. You are more than welcome to call me ‘beautiful’, little one.” The maestro bowed in the chair gracefully. He smiled genuinely while he pulled little Leo in for a hug, the teen leaning into him as he pressed into his shoulder. As they parted, Balan found his moment to press his forehead against Leo’s. Their contact was electric, stunning but completely welcomed as Balan breathed him in softly. Leo reciprocated the gesture, his small hands wrapping around the maestro’s neck affectionately. Oceanic, hope-filled orbs blended with the sunset gold ones in perfection. They stayed like such for a while, neither coming up with any words to justify this moment between them had. When they had to pull apart, Balan was the one who leant forward, as if not wanting the contact to come to an end.

He gets up, still holding the teen, to lay him down on the large bed. Leo relaxes in the maestro’s embrace as he buries his face into his neck. Balan didn’t stop the sweet, light-hearted laugh that bubbled forth as he encompasses the boy, swaddling him in the warmth of his body. They exchange a final look before Leo yawns softly. His eyes, previously stricken with tears of grief, now sparkle with ebullience and peace.

The remainder of the night was of Balan holding the little one as if he were the only thing in the world, his world, to think of at that moment. Surrounded by a jubilant contentment, he lain himself bare in front of this particular visitor for the first time in ages. So long as it was with Leo, he’d do it again. 

Over and over again.

[queenmercurys]

and i didn’t like the ending (chapter 1)

Pairing(s): Jo & Laurie (Little Women 2019)

Summary: As soon as the post box came into view, she saw him there, reading the letter. And then, as if sensing her presence, he looked up, and Jo knew nothing would ever be the same again.

Word Count: 3,137

Warnings: None

(I probably won’t be updating the fic regularly here, but you can find it on AO3 under the same name) 

As good a writer as Jo March was, she had never been awfully good at expressing herself when it came to her own feelings. At least in the case of one Theodore Laurence. The boy had an annoying habit of catching her off guard with his own sincerity, rendering her short of a response. Perhaps, had she been more eloquent, Laurie would not have run off to Europe, abandoning Jo in the process. Not that she could particularly blame him. She had not exactly given him reason to stay.

It had taken Jo a while to come to terms with her feelings. For someone as prideful as Jo, admitting any kind of mistake was no easy task. After her talk with Marmee, Jo had barricaded herself in the attic once more, and, as if on a whim, produced a paper and began to write, the words coming before she could even think about them. Despite Marmee's insistence that what Jo felt for Laurie was perhaps not love at all, she was not so sure anymore.

“My dear Teddy,

I miss you more than I can express. I used to think the worst fate was to be a wife. I was young and stupid. Now, I have changed. The worst fate is to live my life without you in it. I was wrong to turn you down and run away to New York.”

As she stared at her words, Jo couldn’t help but think of how rushed and unfinished the letter seemed. Her thoughts scattered, her intent unclear. But it was the truth. She knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted Laurie in her life more than she wanted to remain a spinster. And if she were to ever marry, who better than the best friend she’d ever had? It was not a proper love confession, and not one the boy would surely want. But it was the best that Jo could give him as of now. She had never been good at love. Perhaps she never would be. But she wanted to try, with Laurie.

With hope in her heart, she set out into the forest and placed the letter in their postbox. Now, all she’d have to do was wait.

“Teddy!” Even Jo herself was overwhelmed with the surge of emotion as she clung to her childhood best friend, fighting back tears. For that brief moment, all of her worries and anxieties were gone. Laurie was back, and now there would be time to rectify everything.

She smiled to herself as she heard Laurie’s chuckle against her ear, and instinctively held him even closer. He was back. Everything was going to be alright now.

“I take it you’re glad to see me, then?” he spoke, his voice soft against her ear. She could practically hear the smile in his voice, and was immediately taken back to the many times the two had embraced in the past. The last time had been at Meg and John’s wedding, a few days before the fateful proposal. Knowing what she knew now, she would go back and change it all.

“Beyond,” Jo murmured. She took a breath, deciding that she was not going to initiate it if he was not. She was quite sure he had not even seen the letter yet. It could wait. They had all the time in the world.

“Good. I was worried,” Laurie whispered, his arms wrapping around her just a bit tighter. The two stayed like that for a few seconds, neither one moving an inch, utterly comfortable in each other’s presence. But finally, Jo pulled back, eager to see his face. The face of the man she had rejected what felt like forever ago.

They laughed. It was an awkward laugh, but it was a start. Jo noted that Laurie looked a bit more put-together than before. His suit looked tailored and proper, and his hair, though with a mind of its own, lacked its usual curl that Jo had come to love so much.

“Let’s sit,” Jo sat back down on the couch that she had previously been asleep on, and laughed once more as her friend plopped down next to her. He looked nervous. Perhaps he had seen the letter after all?

When Laurie said nothing, Jo found it in herself to resume the conversation, her heart hammering in her chest. “How’s- How’s Amy? Did she bother you the entire way back?” She did not care about whether Amy had bothered Laurie on the way back to Europe. She did not care one bit. This was just small talk, something she had never had to resort to with Laurie before.

“Yes, but I like that,” something about Laurie’s words struck Jo, but she brushed it aside.

“She didn’t come straight home?”

“She’s at Meg’s,” Laurie explained, avoiding her eyes. Why was he avoiding her gaze? Was he ashamed, still, after all this time? Suddenly all of the warmth Jo had felt during their embrace was completely gone. “We stopped on the way. There’s no getting my wife out of their clutches.”

Wife. The word caused Jo’s entire world to stop spinning for a moment. Surely, she had misheard. She had to have misheard. There was no way this was happening. She looked at Laurie, but found her voice barely above a whisper: “Your what?”

“Oh, I’ve done it now. It was meant to be... “, Laurie met her gaze, but only for a second before he leapt up, as if stung. “A surprise.”

Jo stared at him, desperate for the man to rectify his slip of the tongue. Surely he had not meant that Amy was his wife. It was impossible. Her mind was racing a million miles a second, trying to make sense of the situation.

“We… you know, we were hoping to wait, but”, Laurie laughed softly, but his smile did not reach his eyes. He still could not meet Jo’s gaze, as if afraid of what he’d find there. “But now we are man and wife.”

“No-”, Jo stopped herself. She needed to stop herself. She sat up straight, balling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. No. She had already spoiled things between them once. She would not lose his friendship, too. “You and… Amy?” The idea sounded so strange, so… wrong.

Laurie finally looked at her, and smiled. He looked content. He had come to terms with his decision. Suddenly everything about his appearance made sense. The suit, the nice hair. Amy would make sure her husband always looked prim and proper.

“It all happened… fast,” Laurie said, and he had the decency to look a bit bashful as he sat back down, but this time, he sat opposite her, on the trunk situated next to the couch. He was keeping his distance. The familiarity between them was gone.

Jo looked away, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. She felt hollow, as if she was watching an accident in slow motion, unable to do anything to stop it. “Oh.”

She felt Laurie’s hand grasp hers, and turned back. As soon as their eyes met, Laurie let go, as if stung. “Jo, I just want to say one thing and we’ll put it away forever.”

“No need, Teddy, really-”

“I’ve always loved you,” Laurie said, and something about the way he said it made Jo want to cry. She avoided his gaze still, no matter how hard he was trying to make eye contact. She stared a bit to his left, her ears ringing. “But the love I feel for Amy, it’s different.”

Jo wanted to scream. She did not need to hear this. She did not deserve this.

Or maybe she did. She had, after all, turned him down after such an earnest proposal. She had had her chance, and she’d let him go.

“I think you were right about this, I think we would have killed each other,” the way Laurie said it, the fast pace, the nervous shake in his voice, it all told her that he did not quite mean it. But what did it matter if he meant it or not? It was done.

Jo realized that he was waiting for a response. She finally met his gaze, praying that her eyes were not glossed with unshed tears. She would not cry for him. “Yes.”

“I think… it was meant this way,” Laurie smiled, and Jo resisted the urge to scream. Why was he doing this to her? Did he truly think she did not care? He must have, or he would not have said such ridiculous things.

“Oh, Teddy,” Jo sighed, burying her head in her hands for a brief second, brushing away the tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks. He would not see her cry. She would put up a front. And everything would go back to the way it had been before.

“You know… you’re the only one who ever calls me that,” Laurie smiled gently, his eyes filled with adoration. And Jo loved him. She did. Perhaps she always had. Why had she not seen it? What was this cruel twist of fate?

“Mm..,” Jo shrugged. “What does Amy call you?” She did not want to know, why was she asking?

“My lord,” Laurie looked a bit bashful. Jo watched him, her expression blank. He did look like a lord. But had he ever wanted to be one? Where was the adventurous, free-spirited Teddy that she had spent her adolescent years causing mischief with? Had he truly matured, or had someone twisted his hand in making him thus?

“That sounds like her,” was all she said.

Laurie looked at her, a knowing smile. He knew she was making fun of Amy. He knew her so well. He always had. But she did not feel like she knew him anymore. Who was this man, and where was Teddy?

“You look deserving of it, though, however ridiculous the title,” Jo quickly added. She did not want to appear unkind. It was what Amy was expecting of her.

“Jo…”, Laurie whispered. For a moment, Jo thought that he might say something more, something meaningful. And instead he asked: “Can we still be friends, please?”

Jo did not know if it was possible. Perhaps, if she truly felt nothing for Laurie, it could be done. But could two people who harbored such romantic feelings for each other truly ever be friends? Despite her inner turmoil, she said what he wanted to hear: “Of course, my boy. Always.” She took his hands in hers, squeezing them gently. Teddy was gone, and only Laurie remained. Jo would have to come to terms with that.

“The others must have arrived by now,” Laurie broke the silence after a few seconds, removing his hands from under Jo’s, standing up and straightening his fine, lilac suit jacket. “Shall we go down?”

Jo knew she looked a mess. She had no desire to see Amy, none whatsoever. She had no desire to hear her excuses, or worse, see her be as smug as ever, gloating in her victory.

Despite the dread, she followed the man down, each step harder and harder to take. And then, as they reached their destination, Jo stopped. She stood in the doorway, watching with sick fascination as Laurie walked over to where Amy was standing, grouped up around their family. And she watched Laurie kiss his wife’s cheek, and wrap an arm around her. It felt so strange, Jo almost wanted to laugh.

And then Amy turned around, and had the audacity to look ashamed. Jo’s eyes met hers, and it took everything the older girl had in her to remain calm. She would not resort to her childish ways. She would let go of her own desires and be happy for her sister. It was what Beth would have wanted.

“Laurie told you, then?” Amy had walked closer, and indeed, looked as if she was afraid Jo was about to strike him. Something about it amused Jo, in a way. As far as Amy knew, Jo had no feelings for Laurie. Why was she so afraid of her reaction?

“Yes,” Jo smiled. They both knew the smile was fake, but it was all she could muster. “It’s.. I’m very happy for you. This was meant to be.” She echoed Laurie’s words, unable to come up with any of her own. And she watched as her sister sighed in relief, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I’m so relieved,” Amy spoke. “I wanted to write, but everything was happening so fast, and I was afraid you’d be angry at me.”

“No.” She was not angry. She was simply… done. She had nothing left to give, no anger, no violence. Nothing.

“No, you’re not angry at me?”

“Life’s too short to be angry at one’s sister,” Jo spoke, knowing it was something their dear Beth would have said. She desperately wanted to be good. To be able to love and forgive as easily as Beth had done. But as Amy looked at her, tears in her eyes, Jo did not feel a calmness Beth surely would have felt. Deep down, she wanted to kick and scream.

“I really miss her,” Amy spoke, and without responding, Jo pulled her in for a hug, unable to say or do anything else. Everything was still far too fresh, and she could not think. She could not think with everyone looking at her, silently pitying her. Except Laurie, of course, who thought this was all for the best.

Jo met Marmee’s gaze and saw the pity in them. That was too much for her. Marmee, who had been privy to Jo’s personal confession, now knew she had lost her chance at happiness.

She pulled away from Amy, watching as the blonde turned around, clearly looking for her husband. “Where did Laurie go?”

“He said he was stepping out for a moment,” Meg said.

And that was when Jo remembered the letter. “I…”, she stepped towards the door, but noticed that no one was paying attention to her, anyway. The spectacle was over. So, without a word, Jo rushed out, determined to retrieve the letter before it could do any more damage.

She ran across the yard into the forest, her heart hammering in her chest. She had to destroy it. Laurie could not see it, and pity her all the more for it.

But as it had been for Jo recently, luck was not on her side. As soon as the post box came into view, she saw him there, reading the letter. And then, as if sensing her presence, he looked up, and Jo knew nothing would ever be the same again.

She took the last few steps to reach him, and tried her best to keep her dignity. She would not say it. She would not embarrass herself further.

“What is this?” Laurie whispered, his voice breaking as he held the letter in his hand. He looked almost accusatory.

“Nothing,” Jo tried to grab the letter from his hands, but Laurie retreated just enough to keep it out of her reach.

“It is not nothing, it is a letter from you. To me,” Laurie said, his voice cold. “Did you write this? Is this some kind of practical joke?”

“What kind of a practical joke would this be, exactly?” Jo snapped, leaning closer and grabbing the letter, clutching it in her hands as if she could retroactively stop him from reading it.

“So, you meant what you said?”

“It doesn’t matter! I didn’t know!”

“Know what?!” Laurie snapped back, and Jo resisted the urge to laugh. He was the one who had married her sister. He was the one who had sealed his fate.

“That you had gone and married Amy,” Jo did not mean for her words to sound as poisonous as they did, but she could not take them back once they left her mouth. Laurie looked like he had been slapped.

“Do not put this on me, Jo. You rejected me.”

He was not wrong. She had rejected him. She had told him that she did not love him. She had told him that she would never marry. He had had no reason to wait for her. And yet… If he had, everything could have been different.

“I know. I would never have written this, knowing what I know now,” Jo said. Now it was her turn to look away in shame. “I didn’t know.”

Laurie stood there helplessly, trying to find the words. Whatever it was that he was trying to say, Jo wished that he would not. There was nothing to say or do. He would simply have to go back to his wife, and Jo would have to come to terms with her mistakes.

“I thought that you didn’t…,” he whispered, his voice so small.

“I was wrong.”

The two finally looked at each other, and they knew there was nothing to be done. Laurie could not undo his marriage, and Jo could not undo her initial rejection.

“In all those letters that you wrote to me while I was in Europe…”, Laurie continued, though he looked ready to collapse. “...you never once said anything.”

“Would it have mattered if I had? You did not answer a single letter.”

“I would have, if you…”, Laurie cursed under his breath, taking Jo by surprise. She had never heard him swear before. “Damn you, Jo. Damn you.”

Jo glared at him, her anger getting the better of her, as it had always done in her youth. “What does it matter to you anyway? You’re happily married, by your own words. You’re in love!”

“Jo!” Laurie shouted, running a hand through his hair, looking even more heartbroken than he had on that day. “I’ve always…,” he paused. Jo was glad that he did. She did not want to hear it. “...always…”

“You should go back inside,” Jo said, turning away. There was nothing more to be said. “Your wife was looking for you."

“Don’t do this to me, Jo”, Laurie sounded desperate, but Jo still did not turn. For as desperate as he must have been, she was even more so. The cruel irony of everything that had transpired was getting to her, and she did not have it in her to listen to one more word.

“I’m not doing anything. Forget about the letter,” with those words, she tore the letter in half, tossing the pieces onto the ground. “I have.” Without as much as a look back at the man she now knew she loved, she walked away, as far away as she possibly could. She ignored him calling for her name. It was too late.

[whichtammy]

Sent from Ithaca Ⅰ

Summary:

After "the Blip" and getting back to his daily life, Sam Wilson gets attracted by an email shown in his mailbox repeatedly and starts continuous correspondence with the sender named Ithaca. During their correspondence, Sam fills the lost memory of his lost home and starts to rebuild new life in the so-called post-bilp era. With the more letters he sends to and receives from Ithaca, however, the more strange connections does Sam find showing up between his real life and the words written down by that Ithaca who loves to tell stories and poems in his letters. Sam can't help but feeling that maybe there was not only an anonymous pen pal who loves literal fantasy behind the name of Ithaca, but a sign with an intention to lead him to get across the boundary between stories and the real life.

—————————————————————

Hi，

I was in your support group for veterans four years ago, are you still work there now? I'm wondering if I could be a member of your group again, or could you please recommend some other groups like that for me?

PS. I'd like to ask that can we talk if it is possible? The group work under your guidance had helped me a lot in the past, I wishthere could be a chance for me to say thank you in person.

Please contact me.

Yours

Ithaca

Sam Wilson finds the mail in his mailbox much of puzzling, the sender'sidentity is ambiguity, as well as the intention. He did work in a support group for veterans for a while, not a short time in fact, it was a regular and steady job after his retirement from the army. However, everybody could know it if one ever had any interest in Sam Wilson, nearly everything of him is on the internet after his real identity was made public, and his work experiences is just a small part of this massive archive of Sam Wilson, open source, 7/24 online. So, even the sender said he (maybe a she, Sam thinks) had been in his support group, there is nothing provable that he or she had really been there, nor if he is really a veteran who is searching for information. It seems like that the only real and clear intention is to get contact with Sam, and for some reasons, the contacts on the other side chose to make himself vague, hiding behind the name of Ithaca, which is no doubt an alias, left nothing of contact details, no phone number, no address. Of this Ithaca, the only information Sam receives is the request of "please contact me"at the end of an email and a traceless virtual mail address.

Another information Sam has is that the sending time of the mail is three years after when it was first sent. He checked through the inbox, there are actually more than one single letter with the same content, that Ithaca keeps sending the same mail to him every three months all the time and today is the day of another third month, so his mailbox received the exactly same words again. He must be doubting, if notthe detail time of "I was in your support group for veterans___ago" keeps changing, that maybe the sender had set a repeating schedule sending and forget it all afterwards, only to leave him an alarmed-like mailbox to remind him that "it'stime"with a virtual Ding.

However, the sender never forgot his letter, nor did Sam ever receive the reminder. He didn'tget any reminds of his mailbox at all during the past three years, in fact, he was even not reminded of himself either for such a long time. He feels like the life of his is a movie with the audience left midway, when the one was back to watch, it is already the "three years later". He also thinks himself as the movie lost audience and the audience missed the movie at the same time, as the movie, he continues without being conscious of, as the moviegoer, he watches with a lack of awareness of what has happened. There is a gap in his memory, something interrupted there, he knows it is there, but he can'tknow what it is that he missed exactly——he just keeps playing and watching, for he has settle down in now, he would have no time to chase the missing part in the past at the same time.

Is the mail a plot supplement of the movie? Sam clicks the reply, forIthaca’s mail, not the other mails alike in his inbox. His mail address got public too after the publicity, people keeps sendingmails in, they are just having a try, it'ssort of a free inviting after all. Many senders write true and false stories about themselves with fictional names and identities, some of them even make up stories of Sam and them to make themselves look like a real person who had real connection with him. Now, Sam has learned to distinguish these big and small lies from his experience of being a celebrity, he doesn'treply any of them now, but he picks up some long mails of them to read with an interest at some time and gets amazed by the imagination and details all the time. He admits to himself more than one time that he would really believe those stories they write about Sam Wilson if he is not Sam Wilson himself. Sometimes he would wonder, did he really in fact play a role in others'life in such a strange and detailed way? Is he really someone to others? Can he indeed have such strange and detailed meaning to strangers'life?

So he replys.

Hi Ithaca,

I'm not working in that group now, if you are looking for something like that, I think that the official website of SRV(Supporting and Rebuilding with Veteran) may provide the information you need about similar activities and groups we had before.

It would be my pleasure if i had helped, I'm so grateful for your supports, too.

Best wishes

Sam Wilson

He reads his brief reply again with a mixed feeling of curiosity and suspiciousness. He wants to see the sender behind the mask, while he is afraid of the fact that what he reveals would only be another face of a hater, a stalker. The mailbox is fulled with mails of stalking, fever, curses and hatred, and they are only a small part of the massive archive of the cult of Sam Wilson. Maybe that is what it takes be to a celebrity, Sam thinks, being a celebrity means exposing yourself to everyone, there is a chance that anyone could come for you, holding a comprehensive information of you and somehow your life truns to be a waiting for the ambush from maybe a friend or foe. He used to believe that he would leave the habit of distinguish people as friend and foe behind when he left the army, he knew he needed time to adopt a new regular life, he would take time to tame his battle life into a tamed daily life, that's why he joint the support group for veterans, as a group member first, sooner a group leader. Sam had expectations of it, he was hoping to build a loose but continuous connection between his two lives and land himself in the soft daily life without enemy in the end.The smooth landing he hoped for would not erase his old friends who had gone with his old foes away in a cold way, he was trying to make it a soft goodbye. Sam truly believe it a realistically ideal plan, he was planing to share this realistic idealism to more people like him. He failed, he thinks later, his vision of life was much simpler that what it is. Life was not going to say a soft hello in return, Sam soon realized the group was in fact the beginning of a new war. He had planned to meet with different people and experience, even complex adventures, the exciting potential was as another a great reason why he choose to keep contact with veterans, but he didn't see the whole vision, he didn't know how strange the man he would meet, nor did he predict the adventures coming along with him. He had no idea about the honor he would fight for, for he was clueless about bad things coming along with it as well.

He recalls that he had regarded the veteran group as a farewell to sacrifice, no more sacrifice he would see, what's waiting for would only be stories of sacrifice to be heard, they would not be alive but are only memories, living in the past and reliving only in the room crowded with lively narrators. That was what Sam expected for, he was prepared for heavy stories and sharing the burden of those who could take their stories alone no more. He would be obligatory to help if the owner wanted to share her or his story. Tell the untold, remember the forgotten, make nameless sacrifice heard and rest in a rectified name, he said this to himself. Now he sees the imprudence of his prediction, the future has given him stories as wish, telling him that his life would be totally changed by a stranger, who carries so many stories that he himself is like a fictional being in the end, every story he had dreamed for would come true because of the stranger, in a wilder way though, just like a fictional fantasy.

For this reason Sam feels he has a empathy for people who write him long letters, how couldn't he show up in someone's "normal life" when the living legend Captain America could ran into his house and asked for help when he was a normal nobody. Sam is immersing in those thoughts and writes his polite reply with a intention of keeping distance from Ithaca. On the one side, the last thing he wants to do is to arouse the interest of a potential stalker, on the other, he would blame himself if he intended to ignore someone with a honest and stubborn heart, even though he knows that the line between a insisting fan and insisting hater is always dim. Sam would like to believe maybe the sender really have some stories to tell, the name of Ithaca implies it, too. The name is another reason made him write his reply, he is home now, spending his time getting familiar with the small town he used to know very well. It occurs to him that the sender, if is telling the truth and did attend his group activities, could possibly be the young man who said wanted to be a poet in a theme activity of "getting a job". Sam remembers his talk, he said he was reading Homer then and recited some verses from the epic. He can't remember the verses by words, but he has a clear picture of the scene, it was some poetic sentences about the desire of going home and the failed of it. The young man said that everyone in the room would share the same feeling when they heard Ithaca calling Odysseus. A long silence fell down to the room after his speech, the young man sensed it too, he said "sorry" as a conclusion. There was no "it's OK" responded, perhaps people in the room had no clue of whether should she or he accept that apology, they may didn't know should they take it as something offensive but forgivable, people were just sad. Sam was short of words for a while, he hadn't read the book then, but the poem did hurt him down in a direct way. He thought at that time that maybe that was the gift of being a poet, look at the reckless young man, he could lift and drown people's hearts only by a verse.

Sam opens the browser to search what exactly the verses are, unfortunately, his vague memory leads him to nothing precisely relevant, which makes him want a reply mail from Ithaca more eagerly, he wants him to contact him back, as long as he is the young man in his memory. Sam opens his mailbox, writes and sends another mail to Ithaca, he thinks himself kind of reckless as soon as he clicked the button of "send", what if he is not him? What if the man on the other side has a dark plan? Would he use his letter as an inspiration of gossips and rumors? Things like that happen all the time. Sam is so tired of get misunderstood because of his own words being twisted, he always gets hurt of those made-up stories, he is tired of making explanations of his stories which are not belong to him at all, he is tired of feeling hurt. He sends it anyway.

Hi Ithaca,

I can't remember if it goes like

"they talk about the days of going home"

Sam

To Be Continued…

[circumstellars]

Hey, I saw your post asking why some of your mutals don’t reblog and it honestly made me wildly uncomfortable and feel like I was being personally called out by you. (we are mutuals and I probably don’t reblog too many of your gifs) I kind of just wanted to scroll past and try not to have a panic attack, but I thought if maybe I just explained then we both might feel better. (1)

Oh! anon, maybe you didn’t see my post after, but it’s not as big a deal as everyone is thinking, I didn’t realise I was causing anxiety to people, hummm, I’m sorry!  Like I said, it’s not like I’m worried because some of my followers are reblogging some of my stuff but not others - that doesn’t bother me *at all*. So if that’s you, and it sounds like it is, please don’t worry. Even if it is you, there’s nothing to do about it, I’m not gonna melt or anything. It’s more of a burning curiosity. I make a lot of stuff (especially lately on my new adhd meds, god) with lots of themes, so the only reason I notice at all is if it’s the same pattern no matter what I make, style, effects, content, then I’m like ....huh. I wonder why. I know not everything in a fanart or gifset, or even fic, is everyone's taste at the same time, so you don’t need to explain yourself of that, honestly, it’s cool. I’m the same way. If it’s not my taste, I try to put the energy into things that *are* my taste on my neighbour blogs, and reblog the ones I like most. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I’ll wait for the next post! But you don’t need to have anxiety over it, I won’t block you or pitch a fit or something reactive, I’d rather be uncomfortable about it then cause others discomfort. In the end, I can only hope the next time or the next time or the next time, I get luckier, and it suits you and your blog. (You sent me such a long ask (over 4 parts), but I’m assuming you know I’m addressing all of it here!) Altho, while you said you don’t make a lot of content, I still find it surprising you say I haven’t reblogged your stuff! Like really surprising, since I reblog stuff quite often (i try to keep my money where my mouth is so to speak, and if I want others to support me, I try to make sure I’m reciprocating as much as is reasonable). Obviously I don’t know who you are, so I just cross my fingers and hope to rectify it soon! I try to throw in reblogs of any content (fics - even tho im not reading or writing at all, fanart, gifs) that I don’t see getting enough attention in general, ‘cause I really feel strongly about promoting art in the fandom community! So that part in my case may be unintentional, unless you only make a very very specific content only, like say your only original content is x Reader fics (no shade! Just not my thing by a mile), and therefore that may be the only thing I imagine might have me skipping over that which doesn’t apply to me. (I tend to be a liberal follower, and use the filter tag system to curate as needed, so I have lots of variety of people in my orbit on purpose. I usually unfollow only if fandoms change radically or I see bullying.).  Anyways anyways *anyways* (adhd works the fingers sorry), as a person, I tend to blab and express random thoughts as a way of not bottling up the small things, so I honestly thought that text post would go largely unread or worried about. I was quite surprised! Be well anon, you’re cool and fine. Thanks for reaching out anyway tho, hope you feel better about it now!

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 14

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Friday - the wedding, pt. 2 / 2

Breathing deeply, Rose let out a sigh of contentment.  The ceremony had gone off without a hitch, the luncheon had been wonderful, and now she was on the dancefloor, swaying in Malcolm’s arms.  Her head nestled against his shoulder, body flush to his as they moved, was her idea of heaven.

It was why the Gala was her favorite night of the year, more than her birthday or Christmas, New Year’s, or any other bank holiday.  The opportunity to be so close to him, to breathe in his scent, to have him hold her closer – they always danced together for several slow songs.  The first was often spent whispering about how the event was going, the second was for sharing any juicy gossip, and the rest…  She liked to think the rest were just because he wanted to hold her as much as she wanted to be in his arms.  It was silly, bordering on deluded, but- she was in love.

And he wouldn’t hold her like this if he didn’t want to.

“You look beautiful,” Malcolm murmured out of the blue, grip tightening on her slightly as the song changed.  Other couples joined the floor, but Rose paid them no attention, trusting him to keep them from crashing into others.

“Thank you.”  Opening her eyes she glanced up at him, gaze tracing along the line of his jaw.  It was only mid-afternoon but his five o’clock shadow was already strong, and it wasn’t just the champagne that wondered what that would feel like against her bare skin.  “You look handsome yourself. I expected your tux, but this is actually better.”

He was dressed in a morning suit, including a waistcoat, looking very dapper and dashing.  The accent colors even matched the light shade of blue and cream she’d chosen for their colors.

“A tux?”  Malcolm sniffed, affecting a haughty tone.  “During the day?  What am I, a savage?”

Rose laughed, and his mock-disgusted expression melted into a grin.

“No, this was more appropriate.  Besides, I’ll be wearing the tux next weekend, for the Gala.  And if I do say so myself, I look particularly debonair in it, and I didn’t want to take the chance of upstaging the bride.”

“Oh, I get it,” she beamed up at him.  “I’ll be much more dressed up for that as well.”

“As you should – you’re a proper Lady now, Viscountess.”  His thumb began a gentle back and forth motion along her spine, and even though the thick material of her dress separated him from her skin, it was intoxicating.

“Noted,” was all she could manage, breathless, and his crystal blue eyes darkened a bit in response; they even flickered down to her mouth, and for one wild moment she thought (hoped, prayed) he was about to kiss her again.  When he had, at the officiant’s direction, her knees had gone weak and she would’ve sunk to the ground if he hadn’t been holding her up.  It had been dream-like, and all she wanted was for him to do it again, longer this time, deeper, and most importantly, because he wanted to.  She was equal parts pleased and disappointed that no one had yet clinked their glasses to make them kiss; while she would like the excuse, the idea hurt too much, of him doing it only because it was expected.

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I tempt you to another slice of cake and glass of bubbly?”

She waited a beat before opening her eyes, hoping the disappointment wouldn’t slow.  “Yeah, course.”

Malcolm led her to their seats; at some point between her visit that morning and the ceremony someone had decided to space out the tables along the wall so they wouldn’t have to go all the way around behind people, and Rose didn’t care whose idea it was- she was just grateful.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she teased him as they settled into their seats, grinning at him.  “Too kind.”

Their glasses had been refilled while on the dance floor, but Malcolm gestured to their server to bring them cake before lifting his flute, Rose copying him half a second behind.

“I propose a toast,” her new husband said, sending a thrill through her.  “To you.  For being the wonderful, selfless human being you are.  Your kind heart and generous spirit constantly amaze me.  And… if I may, for a moment, be selfish, I am very much looking forward to spending more time with you for the foreseeable future.”

Rose smiled, cheeks turning pink.  “Thank you.  And to you, for… for being a good man, kind, trustworthy…  I agreed to this because you are you.  I wouldn’t have done this for… anyone else, basically.”  She pretended to think about it for a moment.  “Maybe Chris Hemsworth.  Or that bloke that plays that detective on that show I like.  But no one else.”  Her smile faded, and she added softly, with a bit too much emotion in her voice, “Just you.”

She met his eye, and slowly, his expression changed, grew more thoughtful and curious and just a touch hopeful.

“Rose-”

-

He knew, rationally, that she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.  It had been an emotionally charged day, the free-flowing champagne only complicating matters.  But his treacherous heart refused to hear it, trying to beat its way out his chest and across the small space to hers, to be forever entwined as they had promised to do in their vows.  He wanted that, a life with her for real, so terribly, and all of this was just a tease, an offer that would never pan out.

And then she looked at him that way, all doe eyes and earnest expression, like he was the only one in the world, the only person she could see, that they were alone in a roomful of people, and he dared to dream.

It occurred to him, then, with a bitter irony, a sucker punch to the gut, that this wedding was the final death knell for any potential relationship.  That now, as her husband as well as her boss, the difference in their power balance was too great.  He could never be certain that, were he to actually be brave enough to ask for what he wanted, and by some miracle she agreed to more, that it was because it was what she wanted, and not because she was trying to please him- her entire life depended on him now, he was responsible for everything in her daily life,  and he could never be sure.

This realization took his breath away, a visceral, physical ache in his chest.  And, judging by the concern spreading over her face it was visible on his, and he glanced around desperately in an attempt to distract her.

“Brigadier!”

His old friend was standing at the edge of the dance floor talking to Clara and Danny, and by the pale expression on the young man’s face, giving him quite the talking-to, which Malcolm appreciated.  Glancing up Alistair nodded, and a moment later, made his way towards him while Clara and Danny escaped to the dance floor.

“Hello, Malcolm,” Alistair rumbled, stopping on the other side of the table from them.  “And Mrs. Tucker, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I’ve heard a fair bit about you, over the years.”

Ah, shit, Malcolm thought, belatedly remembering that he had, in fact, mentioned Rose to him once or twice over the years.  Or during every bloody conversation.  “Rose, this is Brigadier General Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.  We go way back.  Brigadier, this is Rose Tyler.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Brigadier,” Rose said warmly.  “I believe I’ve taken a few of your calls over the years.  Malcolm hasn’t told me all that much about you, but what he has says quite a bit.”

“Is that so?”  Alistair narrowed his eyes at Rose, as though sizing her up.  “And what, precisely, does that say- does he say?”

Malcolm held his breath, but Rose hardly blinked at the challenge.

“That you are one of the best men he’s ever known, and one of the few he would trust with Clara’s life, no questions asked.  That the world could do with more men like you.”  Then she grinned.  “His actual words were ‘he’s an old friend, and would sometimes watch Clara for me when Wallace couldn’t’.”

Malcolm’s ears went red, but Rose and the Brigadier both burst into laughter, so he was willing to suffer a bit of embarrassment in favor of two of the most important people in his life bonding.

“Did he ever tell you how we met?” the Brig asked, still chuckling, as he came around to sit in the chair on Rose’s other side.

She shook her head, shooting Malcolm an appraising look.  “No, he didn’t, an omission I hope you’re about to rectify, Sir.”

“Most certainly.  And, please, call me Alistair.  Now, it was-”

“You know, I don’t think I ever got the story of why you’re here,” Malcolm cut in.  He didn’t have serious expectations of being able to keep Rose from hearing the story, but he was inclined to keep them from getting too chummy.  The Brig knew too many of his secrets for their friendship to be comfortable for him.  Even a ten-minute delay seemed a wise move.

Both shot him knowing looks tinged with exasperation, saying they knew what he was doing.  “Very well,” the Brig said, “if you must know right this moment. Clara called and asked me to come- begged, really.  She was surprised to learn I’d never received an invitation, and that was the first I was hearing of this- you, remarrying.”

Fuck.  “I tried to get in touch, but was told you were very busy in Geneva,” Malcolm said stiffly.  “I don’t think your assistant liked me very much- Dorothy?  Doria?”

“Doris?”

“That’s it.”

The Brig smirked.  “You’re right, she doesn’t.  She’s my wife.”

Rose snorted, and Malcolm gave her a wounded look.  “Don’t laugh, how was I supposed to know?”

“You’ve met her at least a dozen times.”

“Still.”

“All right, all right,” Rose interrupted, smirking.  “You’ve gotten your answer.  I was about to get a story- a wedding present, if you will.  You wouldn’t deny a bride her wedding present, would you?”

Malcolm could deny her nothing on an average day; certainly not now that she had made such a sacrifice.  “Go ahead.”

“So-”

“Maybe I should tell it.”

The Brigadier rolled his eyes.  “If you insist.  But I will correct any falsities.”

Taking a long sip of his champagne and bite of cake, Malcolm nodded.  “So, it’s our first weekend in London- divorce finalized on Tuesday, packed up the car on Wednesday, and now it’s Saturday.  Having effectively never been to the city, I decide to take Clara to some of the historical tourist sites, as one does.  We sign up for a tour.  Not twenty minutes into it do I realize that somewhere between the ticket gate and Traitor’s Gate- roughly 100 meters, mind you- this girl has vanished.  Gone.  I about lost my fucking mind.  So I alert the security guard, they start a search party, you’d think someone had said ‘hey, where’d the crown jewels go?’ it was that level of seriousness, which I did appreciate.”  Pausing for another sip, he appreciated how intently both were listening to the story, relishing in their anticipation.

“Everyone’s searching for her, calling her name, everything.  And don’t I hear behind me, ‘Dad, there’s a girl missing with the same name as me, isn’t that weird?  Can we help look for her?”

Rose burst into laughter, so loud half the guests turned to look, including Clara, who got one glance at the three of them and marched over, Danny trailing behind as her ears turned red.

“Oh please, please, please tell me you didn’t tell her,” Clara begged, glaring at him.  “Please.”

“This explains so much,” Rose gasped, holding her napkin to her mouth in a failed bid to repress her laughter.  “Remember?  You did exactly the same thing in Edinburgh, I even called Malcolm, and he said, I quote, ‘She’ll turn up.  Don’t bother calling for her, she’ll think it’s a coincidence’.  Now I know why!”

“It was the first time she did that, but not the last,” he confirmed, grinned at Rose’s good humor.

“Oh, I love it.  Doesn’t explain you two meeting, though?”

The Brigadier beat him to the punch.  “I joined the army at eighteen. When this occurred I was stationed at the Tower working security when this five year old comes wandering down stairs I’m fairly certain haven’t been used in five hundred years, absolutely off limits even to us.  Well, I very slightly outranked my fellow guard, and decided to take her back up myself.  My daughter’s a few years older, and done the same thing once or twice, so I understood the panic.  We’ve been friends ever since.”

“Wow.”  Rose turned back to Malcolm, flashing him a grin.  “That is a great story.  Much better than being uni roommates.”

“Hey, I like our story,” Clara protested, giving an exaggerated pout.  “It’s good too.”

“Of course it is.”  Rose leaned back in her chair, examining the Brig with a considering eye.  “I bet you’ve got lots of stories about these two back in the day.”

To Malcolm’s dismay but not surprise, a coy grin grew over the soldier’s face.  “Why yes, indeed I do.”

“Alistair, I believe this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Imagine that you were put in charge of a modern, high-budget, well-written Animorphs TV series. What changes to the plot/characters/world would you make while adapting it? (Books that you'd skip, arcs that you'd rearrange, things you would add or outright alter...)

[Important caveat: I have ZERO experience in set design, directing, editing, camerawork, or any other processes involved in TV production, unless we’re going to be super generous and count the bit of scriptwriting and stage-acting I did in high school.  Ergo, these ideas might make no sense in practice.]

Animate it.  I would much much prefer to see an anime-style show to a live-action one for a handful of different reasons:

Battle scenes, morph sequences, and alien appearances wouldn’t be constrained by budget realities.  Although we’ve come a long way from AniTV’s practical effects, in 2019 Runaways still minimizes Old Lace (the sentient dinosaur) and struggles with her somewhat less-than-convincing appearance while she’s onscreen.  I’d like to see real-looking battles between exotic animals and highly unusual aliens.  I’d like to see Ax portrayed as a deer-scorpion-centaur with no mouth who also has complex facial expressions.  I’d like taxxons and hork-bajir that match their descriptions in the books.  CGI for a moderate-budget TV show can’t do that yet.

The characters’ appearances could match their descriptions in the books.  I don’t really care about AniTV’s Jake having blue eyes or Marco having short hair.  I do care about the fact that Cassie is described as short, chubby, dark-skinned, natural-haired, and androgynous in self-presentation… whereas AniTV’s Nadia-Leigh Nascimento is (through no fault of her own and 100% the fault of Nickelodeon) none of those things.  I’d like to see all of the characters drawn in a way that matches their canon racial heritage, and voiced with actors of those ethnicities as well.  For bullshit marketing reasons of bullshit, that’s not as likely to happen in a live-action show.

I’d want the show to convey the frequent mismatches between characters’ physicality and their personalities.  It’s an important motif of the books.  It’s part of the reason that Tobias has been claimed by the trans* community.  It’s a major plot point, lest new viewers think that the vice principal of the school is actually trying to kill his own students.  It doesn’t come off in AniTV, for all that I commend them for even trying (casting Shawn Ashmore’s twin as controller-Jake, portraying Chapman as straight out of Stepford), just because the nature of controller-ness and nothlitization are difficult to convey literally.  Animation has a lot of tricks, from deliberately distorted drawings to screensaver-like “mental space,” that can actually convey concepts like mind control or body dysmorphia pretty well — Alphonse in Fullmetal Alchemist and Aang in Avatar the Last Airbender great examples of body-mind mismatch and multiple consciousnesses in one body, respectively.

Use a cold open for every episode.  I am a sucker for Batman cold opens or any other opening scenes that pick up in the middle of the characters’ everyday lives, because they work so well to convey that there is a crapton of life happening outside of the plot of any given episode.  Several Animorphs books (#9, #14, #35, #41, #51) open this way, to great effect, and I love the way that it gives us slices of life we might not otherwise see (morphing to cheat on science homework, completing entire offscreen missions, having dinner with the family) and help build these characters’ worlds outside of individual episode plots.

Introduce James sooner (and have better disability narratives).  There are several aspects of Animorphs’ social justice consciousness that age okay (Rachel shutting down Marco’s constant flirting) or not well at all (Mertil and Galfinian).  One important way the series could update Animorphs is through having canon disabled characters like James, Mertil, and Loren have bigger roles and not resorting to kill-or-cure narratives.  Maybe James could come in sooner and form a Teen Titans West-esque team with the other Auximorphs so that he and Collette and the others could be recurring supporting characters with unique plotlines.  Maybe Loren could still gain morphing power, but remain blind and brain-damaged so that the hork-bajir need to work with her to figure out accommodations while sleeping rough.

Modify Jake’s and Cassie’s parents to account for the contemporary setting.  The fact that the kids so often disappear all afternoon or even overnight without anyone worrying just wouldn’t translate to a contemporary reimagining of Animorphs.  Tobias and Ax are each other’s only family on the planet whereas Marco’s dad and Rachel’s mom are both overworked single parents.  Jake’s family, however, and Cassie’s…

Cassie’s parents are so freaking cool in canon that they would definitely start to worry if Cassie went for an entire “weekend at Rachel’s” without answering any texts or calls.  Maybe there could be some scenes with them talking about how they have this super-mature responsible daughter whom they can trust not to get into trouble even if she does hate cell phones, but oh well because they’re not big on technology either.

Jake’s parents are… less cool, but they still try their best.  The show might explain their lack of concern about either of their disappearing kids through upping the hippie factor from his mom, maybe until she practices Free-Range Parenting.  (Why yes, it is true that Jake’s family would have the necessary privileges to get away with free-range crap while Cassie’s family would not, because yes it is the case that black families have been arrested for leaving kids alone for 10 minutes while white families are allowed more passes under the law.  Yes, that is a steaming pile of racist bullshit.)  The other way it could go is by having Jake’s parents completely checked out, which could get in the way of plots like #31 that hinge on them genuinely caring about their kids, but could also introduce an interesting dynamic if it partially parentifies Tom.

Include at least one Rashomon plot.  The TV series would by necessity lose the first-person narration, with all its brilliantly subtle shades of bias and misinterpretation.  One way to try and bring that back in would be to convey the same events from multiple points of view with subtle differences in the way that each person perceives what happened.  This could happen somewhere in the Visser One plot, with Rachel interpreting the scene as a straight Animorphs-vs-yeerks battle, while Visser One interprets it as Visser Three incompetently sabotaging her as Animorphs ruin her life, while Marco interprets it as a struggle to protect his mom and also save his friends, while Visser Three interprets it as the andalite bandits flagrantly plotting with Visser One, while Jake interprets it as Marco going off the rails from stress… and the only witness who has a sense of what actually happened is Eva.  Other possibilities abound.

Start with a plan to make one episode per book… and modify as necessary.  There are areas of the series I’d like to see expanded (#50 - #54 covers a lot of ground in relatively little space) and areas that I think could afford to be compacted (#39 - #44 feature a whole lotta nothin’).  But instead of adding or discarding an entire book, I think you could spread out many of the plots by simple virtue of TV shows not being constrained by first-person narration.

Certain books just wouldn’t get straight-translated today anyway (#40, most notably). I don’t think any books are so bad or useless that they couldn’t be modified into decent television episodes.

The ramping-up that leads to open war happens mostly in the background of #44 - #51, but a bunch of scenes with just controllers talking to each other could go into that process in a lot more detail.  This content could help fill out plots like #44 and #48 that frankly don’t have a lot else going on.

The entire plot of Visser happens over a nonspecific period of time between #30 and #45, so instead of getting one book we could get an entire running Yeerk Empire subplot with major consequences for the main plotline.

Similarly, the andalites’ decisions happen mostly offscreen but have major consequences for the Animorphs.  The consequences for the Electorate after the events of #38 could also run for a whole subplot that sets up their decision to nuke Earth in #52.

The biggest absence from the last couple books is Rachel.  Her last book is a friggin’ dream sequence, she acts out of character in #52 especially, and the narration order cuts off directly before giving her one last book.  It wouldn’t be necessary to add an entire episode just to rectify this oversight, when #51 could still be Marco-centric but also show her and Jake on their sabotage mission, and #52 could have the same rough plot but with a few scenes between her and Tobias thrown in for good measure.

Anyway, maybe the various Chronicles could be a handful of Doctor-lite episodes where the Animorphs themselves are incidental and Elfangor or Aldrea has the helm.  Maybe the events of the Chronicles could come out organically over the course of the show, for instance by expanding the memory-dumps Tobias gets in #1 and #33 or having Jara tell Dak’s story in #13 or #23.  The Megamorphses, on the other hand, could pretty easily just occur as regular-series episodes, albeit possibly as two- or three-parters.

Lean into the comic-book aesthetic.  Animorphs is written very much in the style of a graphic novel, from its “teens with superpowers save the world from aliens” plot to its heavy use of onomatopoeia.  Even the use of hypertext symbols around thought-speak hearkens back to the comic book convention of using pointed brackets around alien languages to convey translation.  The show could homage this motif through having dramatic transformation sequences, “uniforms” of multicolored spandex the kids use to morph, an opening credits sequence that emphasizes the power of each animal, and other superhero-comic elements throughout.

Have the violence be consequential.  To keep the examples from earlier: in Fullmetal Alchemist, as well as in Avatar, characters that get hurt stay hurt.  A character getting shot or stabbed is portrayed as a potentially life-changing event.  Characters’ injuries do not disappear between episodes, and even alchemy and waterbending are not portrayed as total fixes.  Characters scar, they become disabled, they spend entire episodes in recovery, they accrue trauma, and they do not shrug off life-ending injuries.  Animorphs helps to justify the idea that six kids could (mostly) survive (most of) an entire war against a friggin empire through making the protagonists nigh-unkillable thanks to their healing abilities, but it nevertheless shows that shooting someone will result in that person bleeding and screaming and possibly dying.  Having a sci-fi or action show meant for children isn’t actually a valid excuse for portraying violence as cool or funny or inconsequential the way that (Avengers Assemble, Teen Titans, Kim Possible, Dragonball Z, Pokemon, etc.) too many children’s sci-fi/action shows opt to do.

[dvac25]

NATURE-: BEYOND OUR COMPREHENSION

“Amratam calva mrtyusca dwayam dehe pratisthitam,mohadutpadyate mrtyuh satyeNotpadyatemrtam.”

– IMMORTALITY AND DEATH BOTH RESIDE IN THE BODY, DEATH COMES FROM TEMPTATION AND IMMORTALITY FROM THE TRUTH.

Now you must be wondering why have I started my article with dark words like death, temptation, etc, haha! Don’t worry we won’t be talking about any Illuminati stuff. This shlok is derived from our Vedas which is best suited in today’s world, how? That I will explain to you.

My three-year-old son who is always curious about everything around him asked me one very simple question very innocently which actually made me think. I quote

” Why this corona came ? ”

Then I started brainstorming, there are so many theories made up about from where it came, how will we survive, what will happen afterward etc , but why it came was a real eye-opener. I asked myself who is the real intruder we the people or this virus?

Not many years ago we humans started creating this world just for us, we rejected the structural and environmental process of god and thought why not take everything in our hands, and in the name of inventions lets pollute this earth more and more. We didn’t wanted  much just to cater our needs like cars, ships, jet for travelling, and not only one but more as one is not enough for us humans we also have to show off otherwise what’s the point in earning so hard if we can’t show off? Right! anyway so, we invented new design buildings by cutting forest because we can’t live in forests we are not animals we need luxurious bungalows we might sleep in just one master room but still we need to have at least two more rooms maybe someday we might needs to sleep in other room due to mood swings.

Who eats in old aged earthenware when there is borosil and other plastic biodegradable utensils and to add value to the supply chain and product lets term them as less micron plastic, so what if all this waste gets dumped in the oceans and our sea animals die nicely wrapped up in these plastics.

After going through these conditions we felt the need of the hour is that now we should rectify our error so lets start with “save the oceans” mission lets contribute towards clean rivers,oceans, but how? Ans-lets throw charity dinners, and in these events we will again waste food, will use plastic decorations and increase pollution by travelling loud music etc. We will also start mission rallies but soon we will forget the mission and will make it religious or political.

Our mind is so much vigilant that we cannot stop,even after so many inventions and progress we are not content so once again a new era of startups arrived but this time it  was different as now everybody wanted to run a successful business suddenly, there was a tsunami of new ideas and how can we forget gender equality why should only males participate in this destruction all genders should come together.

With these startups came whole new world of trade, business opportunities which resulted in more office structures more road traffics more need of resources, more industries, more air traffic, more netwotk towers because we have to reach to every corner of world no land should be left to explore as we have to maintain our travel blogs, hike up our insta stories and WhatsApp has become our only mode of communication with whole family.

So congratulations to all for acquiring three major elements of a mother Earth- Sea, Earth, Space.

What a method of development as we have destroyed her more rather than healing our mother nature.

But wait how can we settle here only Let’s go to outer space and pollute it too by providing various astronomical devices to provide us weather reports, GPS data, better networks etc.what is the use of these data? Ans-To predict storms, seasons, temperature.

Really! Then how come Tsunami killed so many people, Katrina storm destroyed millions of lives and why farmers are still facing troubles because of constant weather change.

The point is simple we humans can only predict to some point but can’t alter or change nature’s course of action so what’s the point of this fight!

Back to square one question , why this corona came, the answer is -it came to teach us who we are, to bring us together to value time and family more than other tangible assets, to learn to communicate with real expressions not with emojis, to value our 2 am friends not the tik toc, Instagram, FB followers or subscribers, not to shop in a click but to shop as per the necessity, not to put filters on photos or videos instead on our hearts and thoughts, not to put lock code on phones, but on pollution.

The side effects of corona was the sound of claps and positivity were still heard but not on meaningless political bhashans but to applaud the real heroes.

No flights or planes can be seen but our kids viewed clear blue skies for the first time and to top it is up beautiful birds hovering. The oceans, rivers, seas all have turned their color and life has started again. So once again this lockdown which is classified as a pandemic turned out to be an advantage for nature.

We did so much hard work, inventions to rise the economy and nature in just a few months changed the whole dynamics of money value, so who is stronger we or mother earth!

The bottom line is corona was an appointed staff by the humans who evolved with us but shook hands with nature to make us realize our faults and remind us that

Nature Is Still Beyond Our Comprehension

Written By: Devanshi Sharma

[englass]

Affirmation

Pairing: John Seed x Reader

Warning(s): Possessive behaviour, innopropriate thoughts/desires

Word Count: 2,150

- - -

The day is a stunning one, the sky a pure and unmarred blue, pastel soft and light in the slow transition from early to the late morning. There’s not a cloud in sight and the sun is radiant in that knowledge, claiming full ownership over the vast and endless sky as it washes the land in a swaddled warmth, beaming proudly from up high.

Holland Valley is bathed and praised in the golden light, it’s open and welcoming landscape taking on a new vibrancy that has it looking cleaner, touched in a way that religious folk would lay worshipful words and gazes upon. Blessed with a holy vision that demonstrates all of God’s glory and majesty in a single picture; a truly gorgeous day.

While most made use of the new and preening glow to the Valley others continued with their daily lives, a new skip and easiness in their otherwise busy and wary forms. You were much the same. Despite how much you would’ve loved to be outside, taking in the full breath of the big skied county, there was still stuff to be done.

In the modest garage that acted as a makeshift hanger for your beloved seaplane you stayed, the heat of the day invading the cool space as you tinkered away with an content smile and an absent mind. Elora was an old plane, probably about the same age as Carmina, the name of your good friend Nick Rye’s plane, and required quite a bit of TLC.

She was definitely getting on in her life, worn down through the many years she’d been in your family, but still flew with all the grace she had from when she was first built. Old in number, but not in soul. Still, you tried your best with what you had, your modest salary and the little extra you made from the one-off repairs you did for people, helping you enough to support yourself along with your ageing plane.

Standing up on the safely steps next to the wing of Elora you worked away on her, giving her a good polish while fixing anything that looked remotely out of place as you went. A radio was playing in the background, sitting innocuously on a workbench as old songs came through in merry tones. Indulgently, you started singing to the songs and parts you knew, humming and mumbling when you got a line wrong or didn’t know. It was a comfortable atmosphere you were lost in, focused solely on your plane and the joy it gave you.

So lost were you in the moment in fact that you failed to notice the familiar and well dressed man that leaned against the doors of your makeshift hanger, arms casually crossed across his chest as he watched you with an admiring focus. Truly, it would be a shame to interrupt you, seemingly enjoying yourself as much as you were, but your lack of attention had him itching. He’d need to rectify that.

Leaning over the wing of your plane, raising onto your tiptoes slightly as you reach across, you startle at an unexpected but light banging, a knock on metal sheeting. Looking up toward the sound you don’t even try or think to hold back a smile, a wide beam lighting up your face when you spot a man that you would class as a friend standing by your hanger door. It was always an experience when he was around. 

“Oh, hey there!” You chirp happily, “I didn’t expect to see you today. How are things? No problems with Affirmation I hope?”

While you and Nick had a friendly sort of competitiveness running between the two of you, each cheering for your own respective planes while still holding a fondness for the other, John Seed was not quite a part of that. He was especially nice with you, a teasing sort of fellow on occasion but still rather polite and respectful to you all the same, but when it came to Nick John could walk the line of nastiness rather well. All passive aggressive taunts with snide smiles and biting words.

Affirmation was a beautiful plane, no doubt about that, but it was hardly a fair comparison when put between two old and weather worn seaplanes. You‘re pretty sure John knew it too, and still does, but you had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t get involved in such a thing unless he knew he was going to win. He seemed a little sly like that, only showing his hand once he knew the game was his, but talk is that he used to be lawyer before coming here so you shouldn’t be too surprised by that. Although, why he directs it all at Nick you’re not too sure. There must be history there you don’t know about.

John chuckles lowly at the question, subtly eyeing you from his place besides the hanger door. “No, thankfully she’s doing well. Still flies as smoothly as the day I first got her.”

“I’m glad to hear it; I know how much you love her.” You can’t help the softer shift your smile takes as you wipe your hands with a stained rag, looking up at him as you do so.

Having the infamous John Seed come to you, a hobbyist pilot and mechanic, looking for extra help regarding his prized plane was admittedly quite a pride-filled moment for you. Why he had chosen to come to you out of all the other capable pilots and qualified mechanics across the county to help him with her you weren’t too sure, but it had certainly stroked your ego. And filled your wallet; John had paid quite handsomely for your time, far too much in fact, but despite you rejecting the amount he wouldn’t have it. He could be quite persuasive.

Stepping down the safety steps you make your way to John, your smile never fading with your rag still in hand. “So, what can I help you with today, Mr. Seed?”

Oh there’s a lot of things you could help him with, John thinks blithely, watching the natural sway of your hips before crawling up your body to the kind twinkle in your eyes. You were too sweet for your own good, an innocent little thing that was always willing to help and sacrifice for those in need. Even when they didn’t deserve it.

John had witnessed you offering your mechanical skills to some of the congregation’s members, your workshop a neutral zone free from discrimination, and it had left him positively warm the first time he’d seen it. Your acceptance of them and, by extension, him was a welcome change from the near constant hostility and wariness of the local rabble. But, that also meant that he had heard the whispers of slander made against you, a relatively new inhabitant to the Valley.

Slander that John knew his presence alone would stoke.

Nick Rye had originally tried warning you away from John, their little rivalry bleeding an growing dislike onto both fronts, but you had stood firm on having a part in this little three-way. John had found it amusing at first – “birds of a feather should flock together”, you had said, looking between them with an cheesy smile, “we’re all pilots after all!” –, but now that amusement was long gone and had been replaced by a selfish want for more; he wanted out of that silly little triangle.

And if his continued presence would ensure that outcome then... well, he’ll be sure to pay you more frequent visits in the future. 

“Back to formalities are we now, my dear?” He says with a teasing grin. “And there was me thinking that we’d finally gotten past that stage in our relationship; I thought we were close.” Not close enough apparently, a part of him growls, hidden behind an exaggerated display of mock offence. 

Nervously you laugh, head bowing slightly as your eyes flicker away from him, rubbing the side of your neck self-consciously. Such an adorable picture you make.

“Right, ‘m sorry. I guess I’m just so use to being formal with people nowadays that it just slipped out.” Looking up at him from under lashes you give him a small, but guilty smile. “Sorry, John”

Good Lord, what do you do to me.

John runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it over as he gestures dismissively. “No need to apologise, dearest. I understand. You’ve been a busy woman lately,” a grin quickly blooms across his face, one too many teeth on display, as he leans closer with a teasing sparkle to his ocean eyes, “or should I say, deputy.”

You don’t quite hear the way John’s tongue drags over the title, accentuating every syllable, like a filthy secret that only he knows about and can’t help but gloat over. Instead you only groan painfully at the title, shaking your head lightly as your hands come up to cover your eyes, a flush of embarrassment painting your cheeks a pretty shade of red.

Your obliviousness is both equal parts adorable and infuriating.

“I’m not a deputy yet though, John. I’m still just an intern.”

“Well, from what I hear you won’t be that way for long.”

“I highly doubt that, John.” You say disbelievingly, “Besides, I’ve barely been here six months. There’s no way they’d promote me so soon.”

“It’d be criminal if they didn’t.” He huffs. “You’re a hard worker dear, you do a lot more for the county than your woeful colleagues do. You deserve some form of recognition for the work you put up with, a reward may-“

John’s eyes widen, trying hard not to give way to predatory grin just itching to get out. Yes, that could work. 

“How about I treat you to dinner?” He suddenly asks with a charming smile, catching you off guard. 

You blush shakily. “Oh, uhh, I mean... that’s very kind of you John, but really there’s no need!”

“Nonsense, it’ll be my treat. Think of it as a thank you for all you’ve done for me and the county so far.”

And ‘so far’ indeed; there was no way John was going to let you slip away. You were special, he was sure of it– convinced even. Someone just for him. If he could just land this dinner date with you then he’d be sure to prove himself, prove how perfect the two of you could be together. He just needed you to say one simple word...

Watching John and the hopeful gleam in his sky coloured eyes, plus the burning guilt you felt for even thinking of turning him down, you slowly nodded to his offer. It would be nice to get to know him a little better, maybe even learn a bit about the resident cult that everyone keeps warning and scolding you over. You’d always preferred seeing both sides of the story and forming an opinion from there, even if you’d never act on it once you had one. Conflict wasn’t your thing.

“Okay,” You say softly, chewing your lip. “Yes, sure, that’d be lovely. As long it’s not any trouble of course!”

“Dear, the pleasure is all mine.” There’s a thrill that works down John’s spine, his grin victorious. “How about tonight? I have some work I need to do first, but I could always pick you up if you’d prefer?”

“Oh, no no no,” you shake your head quickly, “that’s fine. I’ll just make my way around to yours. Is about six okay?”

“Perfect.” His grin turns a touch salacious before he schools it back into something tamer. Yes, six is perfectly fine for him. You’ll both get the entire evening to yourselves, no third parties, just the two of you. Oh, the potential mischief he could very well get into with you... such a delicious temptation, if not a reality in the making. “I’ll be expecting you then.”

Emboldened by your agreement John covers the last few steps between you with a new air of confidence, his gait slow but sure. Looking down at your curiously innocent eyes John can’t (doesn’t) stop himself from taking a little bit extra from the moment than he knows he rightfully should; the affection he’s grown for you over the last few months openly raising its head, along with his hand.

Testily his fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before trailing along the line your jaw, his gaze an electrical blue that thrums with a manic, if not poorly subdued, energy to it that is focused purely on you. Unbidden the small blush covering your cheeks deepens, his sudden forwardness toward you rather unexpected. And for a reason you can’t quite seem to place you’re not too sure whether to feel flattered at this sudden interest he has in you, or absolutely terrified by it.

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 116: Calm Before the Storm

Emma parked the squad car and James pulled up in his behind her. They got out and went into the Rabbit Hole, straight into an all out brawl.

"Oh crap…" Emma complained.

"Well...you first," James told his twin.

"Why me?" David asked.

"Well...you're the famed dragon slayer and the man that's been boasted as the one that easily defeated Blackbeard to rise to glory. This is right up your alley," James replied.

"You're never going to let that glory thing go, are you?" David argued. James smirked.

"Nope...get in there, baby brother," he joked.

"We're twins," David reminded.

"I'm seven and a half minutes older than you, according to mother," James argued.

"Seriously?" David argued back.

"Dad...we don't really have all day. Just be careful though. You know how much Mom will fuss if I take you back to her all scraped up," Emma said. David gave his daughter an incredulous look and she shrugged.

"He's not wrong. You have the reputation of the best swordsman in all the United Realms," she reminded. He rolled his eyes and unsheathed his sword, before jumping into the fray.

"You know...you're a good swordsman too. You could help," Emma told him.

"Nah, this is more fun," James retorted and she shook her head.

"You're terrible to him sometimes, you know that right?" she asked.

"I have twenty some years of giving him a hard time to make up for," he replied. The drunks stupidly tried to swing at David, some even with knifes, but they were no match for his skills, even if they had been sober. He grabbed the first one by the arm and tossed him into a table, while another picked up a chair in an attempt to hit him with it. He was obviously too drunk to realize what kind of sentence that attempting to assault a King would come with, but David was quick to duck and tossed him onto the now broken table with the other man. The pile of drunken thugs continued to grow, as David made quick work of them and soon had them all lined up, ready to be cuffed, which Emma and James proceeded to do.

"Oh...are you actually going to help for a change?" David asked, as he sheathed his sword.

"That's what we employ Knights for," James retorted, as Lancelot and several other Knights arrived to take them to the Sheriff's station, which was much larger now, to process them. Shortly after Snow and David took their Thrones, they decided that Storybrooke's Sheriff's station was now much too small to handle the justice system of the United Realms. But they wanted it to remain the hub of criminal defense in the United Realms, so they allocated the funds to build an addition to it, as well as an actual prison next door. Up until then, long term prisoners had been housed in the basement level of the hospital, which would not suffice any longer.

The Knights that David, James, and Lancelot had trained in the last three years were extremely impressive and noticed by all the other Kingdoms. There was talk that the Knights they had trained were even more impressive than King Arthur's famed Knights of the roundtable, something Lancelot personally knew would be a point of contention for his former liege. Arthur had remained fairly silent though. He attended the United Realms council meetings and participated in a minimal capacity, while largely remaining mysterious to mostly everyone. Lancelot knew the reasons, but since Arthur had not made any aggressive movements, the Knight had chosen to let him keep his secret, until the time that changed.

"A little above your pay grade, don't you think?" Lancelot teased David, as his Knights marched the drunks responsible for the brawl. David shrugged.

"Emma got the call and you know I can't help myself," he joked. Lancelot smiled.

"You never put yourself above the people. That's why you are the leader you are," the Knight said, as he left to take care of those they had placed under arrest. David was always humbled by Lancelot's respect for him and was well aware of his falling out with his former King. Arthur had done much to let Lancelot down it seemed, though David had no inkling of what exactly had happened between them, other than it involved Queen Guinevere. But by the ever present tension between them, it was clear that it went beyond that. David never pried though and Lancelot never offered details. With them, Lancelot had a new start and they allowed him that.

"My bar is in shambles!" the owner complained.

"And you know the procedure. Submit the damages to the United Realms insurance bureau and the damages will be covered," David offered to appease him.

"Yeah...and maybe consider some new security tactics or watering down your booze. This place seems to be a constant source of trouble," Emma added.

"Oh, I don't know...I find it a perfectly fine place, but then a girl like me is always drawn to chaos," a voice purred. They turned and found Cruella De Vil sitting at a booth, sipping a cocktail.

"You always get a show here...and then I can always count on a very attractive line of men to come in to rectify the situation," she added, as she looked the twin brothers with a feral gleam.

"Oh yes...now that is a such a pretty sandwich that I'd love to be in between," she purred, as she licked her lips.

"Oh my God…" Emma complained at her blatant sexual innuendo.

"Oh yes Dahlings...the fun we could have," she continued, as her eyes undressed them both.

"Hard pass," David retorted, as he started to leave.

"It's too bad...I knew he'd never go for it. But I had hope for you when I first learned you were back. The bad twin...think of all the fun we could have had and the chaos we could have created. A pity you've gone soft," Cruella purred in his ear.

"You're not my type," James refuted. She cackled at that.

"Oh, but I used to be…" she reminded.

"I've changed, as has my wife...but not that much. Hands off or she'll fry you and this monstrosity you're wearing," he warned, but that just seemed to thrill her more.

"Do you like it? I just had it made and I'm already scouting for my next," she boasted.

"Poaching is illegal and if we catch you killing innocent creatures just to use their pelts, I throw you in prison myself," James warned. She pretended to pout.

"It would almost be worth it to be put in handcuffs by you," she leered.

"I mean it, Cruella…" he warned again, as he followed his niece and his brother out. There was a time that Cruella's lust and praise of him would have been very attractive, but he had come a long way in three years. He still had moments where he felt inferior to David and his twin had the golden reputation and glory he had thought he wanted and still sometimes did. But he had come to love his brother, as well and their parents. He had the family he had always wanted, deep down, and would never throw love away to be with someone like Cruella; a woman he was certain was incapable of love. He had love now, with a woman that was much like him. They had both wanted to be good and had been molded into monsters; him by his abusive adopted father and Regina by her mother. But they had sought redemption and walked the difficult path back to the light. Together, they had found love and neither of them was letting it go for anything.

"This meeting of the Council of the United Realms will come to order," Persephone announced.

David heard those words, as he, Emma and James entered the chamber just in time, as the meeting was brought to order. He took his seat next to Snow and kissed her cheek, as he sat down.

"Let's get this meeting underway then. No one wants to sit here and watch you two and your incessant public displays of affection," Ravenna snapped in irritation.

"Well, then why don't you start us off, Queen Ravenna. What efforts have you made in the last month to improve the lives of your people?" Persephone questioned.

"Oh you're going to love that, aren't you? Because my Kingdom is struggling and your daughter's is thriving, you make it your mission to point it out every single time," Ravenna complained.

"Your Kingdom is struggling, because your people are being unfairly taxed, yet your treasury is empty," Persephone stated.

"Which would warrant an investigation into your Kingdom's finances, because it screams fraud," Regina added.

"The only fraud here is this joke of Council! I have never been treated fairly and it's because of her," Ravenna claimed, as she glared at Snow.

"Your perception is not reality, Queen Ravenna. While you claim unfair treatment, you turn a deaf ear to your people cries for help. You must improve the state of your Kingdom or you will force others to step in," Persephone warned.

"Such would be an act of war!" Ravenna claimed.

"No...it would be an act of mercy on your people at this point. You're staring down the barrel of a full revolt in your Kingdom if you do not make changes," James argued.

"Says the Prince that was raised to be a tyrant," Ravenna retorted.

"With the difference being that my brother changed and rose above that raising. All you can seem to focus on is your hatred for my wife," David snapped.

"And I always will," Ravenna promised, as she glared at them.

"As usual, this is getting us no where. Queen Ravenna...you've been warned about the condition of your Kingdom. Now to move on to other matters," Persephone announced, while Ravenna silently seethed.

"If we're going to discuss monetary matters, then perhaps we should discuss all the funds that are constantly eaten up by all the advancement in Storybrooke," Midas interjected. Abigail sighed.

"Father…" she chided.

"It's okay Abigail...we have put a lot of our joint Kingdom's funding into the ongoing projects in Storybrooke. The community center has been finished for a year now and it's a huge asset the entire United Realms. And the University is on schedule to be ready for fall semester in just a few months time," Snow announced proudly.

"The education reform of this is unprecedented. I've already had many approach me about enrollment," Elsa confirmed.

"And the community center classes and events are always fully booked," Anna added.

"Yes...and the Community Center also offers counseling for addiction, victims of crime or abuse, and many other topics. It's giving battered women and their children a place to go as well," Snow added.

"Yes...you've been on quite a crusade to shut down my business, but I assure you that it won't happen now that I've moved it to Lord Cronus' Kingdom," Deimos interjected, as he sat beside King Cronus.

"Only because he has chosen not to outlaw brothels," Snow retorted distastefully. Deimos smirked.

"And many other Kingdoms still have them as well. I'm now just one in a sea of many and while you may have outlawed them in your Kingdom and Storybrooke, fairest Snow...you do not have the pull to do so in any others," he retorted.

"You exploit young women," she spat.

"I employ them," he argued.

"You make me sick," she hissed, but he only smirked.

"And you're still as fiery as ever. It's too bad I never got the opportunity to tame you," he leered, causing David to nearly launch himself across the room.

"Enough…" Hades bellowed.

"Lord Cronus...if your right hand insists on speaking to our daughter in such a manner then he will be banned from this and any future meetings," he warned, as his father glared at him.

"Of course...Lord Hades. It won't happen again," Cronus assured.

"Well, as usual, the financials are a point of contention. Perhaps we'll do better in discussing defense," Persephone stated.

"Crime in our Kingdoms and Storybrooke is down forty percent," David reported.

"Yes, which is impressive. Your methods and training techniques are being adopted by many Kingdoms," she stated.

"That's nothing...crime is almost non-existent in Paris," Frollo boasted.

"And your prisons are filled with innocent people," David interjected, as he glared at the unjust ruler.

"Then by all means, King Charming, why don't you come blazing in to liberate the souls you say are innocent and take them to your Kingdom. I'm sure that will keep crime low," he retorted. David seethed and glared at the bigot, but took the high road, as he felt Snow put her hand on his.

"I won't need to. The harsher you rule your people, the angrier they will become and when they revolt...you'll get some of that justice you're always spouting about," he warned.

"You and yours have made it quite clear that you disapprove of my rule, but there is money in my treasury and food in the stomachs of my people. There is more than one way to rule," he retorted.

"However, if you want to speak of a spike in crime...then perhaps you should look to Camelot," he interjected, as the attention turned to Arthur and his Queen.

"Camelot is secure...I'll admit that there has been a spike in crime, but the Knights of the Roundtable, the most valiant Knights in the United Realms are working to quell the increase in violence," Arthur stated sternly.

"Word has it that the Knights of the Roundtable is a dying order. If anything, King Charming's Knights are far superior to yours these days," Frollo argued, as he attempted to stir the pot, as usual.

"Misthaven has no quarrel with Camelot. Crime happens everywhere and I assume this small spike is just one of those things. Am I right, Your Majesty?" David questioned. Arthur looked nervous, but the other King didn't let on like he noticed and it made the wielder of Excalibur wonder what, if anything, his father-in-law might have told him about his Kingdom.

"It would appear so, King David and the situation is being handled," Arthur confirmed, as they thankfully moved on, as a few other matters were discussed, until Persephone finally dismissed the weekly meeting. Ravenna stormed out, while Frollo casually followed her.

"This trip we're about to take better yield results," she hissed to him.

"It is a promising endeavor, I assure you," he replied.

"It better be!" she snapped.

"Because I want that little brat to suffer at my hand and there to be nothing her stupid mother can do to stop her demise," Ravenna growled.

"Then we had better be on our way to the Harbor," he responded.

"Well...that wasn't very productive, but I guess I knew what to expect," Snow mentioned, as he led her out with his arm around her.

"Perhaps not...but you're a tough act to live up to," he mused. She smiled.

"So are you...saying you and your Knights are superior to even the Knights of the Roundtable. David...that's incredible," she gushed. He kissed her hair.

"I want my family to have the best protection and our people deserve the same as well," he agreed humbly.

"Do you need to get back to the station right away?" she asked. He smirked.

"I think Emma and Lancelot can handle things for a while and my parents have the babies. I'd say you and I could enjoy a romantic walk," he replied, as he offered her his elbow and she hook her hand on it, as he led her out.

Killian Jones hurriedly made his way to the Harbor, spotting his ship or rather the ship he had given up to Mr. Smee three years ago. Upon arrival in this new magical forest, he had sought an item he had heard could be used to trap someone. He had planned to find this item and then return to Storybrooke in order to use it on his nemesis: the crocodile.

Upon reaching the tower where this golden flower was rumored to be, he instead found a young woman trapped there. Entranced by her beauty, he promised to free her and they slept together. But when he awoke that morning, he discovered that the young woman was not what she appeared to be and rather was an evil sorceress that had used him to conceive a child. With her magic, she had accelerated the pregnancy and gave birth, allowing the baby to take her place in the enchanted tower. He was shocked and appalled that the witch, whom called herself Gothel, abandoned the baby without a thought. But he could not do that. Despite the terrible deeds that littered his past, he could never leave his own child to suffer. His own father had done so to him and he would be damned if he did so to her. So he stayed and took care of his daughter, as suddenly he had something more important than revenge. She became everything to him and was his pride and joy, allowing him to finally let his revenge go. Alice was his world now and so when the witch return to try and poison his heart to take her away, he had managed to trick her and escape. He knew she would be after him, but he knew if he could get to Storybrooke, that he could ask for protection. He knew he had done a lot of things they didn't like, but he was positive that Snow and David would help him for the sake of his child.

"Mr. Smee…" Hook called and the portly man looked up in surprise.

"Captain!" Smee said, pleasantly surprised.

"I need a ride to Storybrooke, post haste. Care to help your former Captain out?" he asked. Smee smiled.

"Of course Captain...of course. Whose the kid?" he asked. Killian smiled.

"She's my daughter, Mr. Smee," he announced proudly, as the three-year-old in his arms looked shy and buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"Your daughter?" Smee asked in surprise.

"Much has changed, Mr. Smee and it is not safe here for us any longer. I'm taking her to Storybrooke," Killian replied.

"Of course...we'll set sail right away," Smee agreed, as they boarded the ship and set off across the ocean.

Greg sighed in frustration, as they watched Henry at school.

"We've been watching this kid all day...he's never alone. This is impossible," Greg complained.

"Then maybe we need a different target," Landon responded.

"Like who?" Greg asked.

"What about the blonde Sheriff?" Landon replied. Greg's eyes widened.

"Emma Swan? Queen Snow and King Charming's daughter? That blonde Sheriff?" Greg asked, looking at him like he had grown three heads.

"Why not? What better target to cause panic and lure all the of the major players out of Storybrooke?" Landon questioned.

"Think about it. We get Emma Swan and we for sure will lure her parents and Regina out since the former Evil Queen is not married to her Uncle. We get her husband, which means we'll get Rumpelstiltskin as well. And we'll likely get Hades and Persephone as well," he continued.

"But there is magic here...and Emma Swan has a ton of it," Greg reminded.

"But we have this," Landon reminded, as he held up the cuff. Greg smirked.

"You're right and once we lure them all outside...there's no magic for any of them to use. Not even Persephone and Hades will have power in New York," he agreed.

"Exactly. We take her there and introduce her to all the interested parties on the dark web that went wild over our video and then the rest of them will walk right into the thick of it," Landon said.

"Okay...but getting Emma Swan won't be easy either," he warned.

"Easier than getting the kid though. The next time she responds to a call alone...we'll be waiting to ambush her," Landon said. Greg nodded. This was it. Once he lured them all out of Storybrooke, they would get a confession out of Regina and get the attention of the FBI. Then any fringe groups that had believed their video would surely pay them handsomely for the rest of them.

"There's my babies…" Snow cooed, as she and David met his parents outside Granny's that evening.

"Mommy!" Xander called, as he toddled to her. She scooped him up and they both kissed his head, as their baby reached for David upon seeing him.

"And there's my tiny angel," he cooed to her, as he took her in his arms and kissed her head. Snow leaned over to kiss her as well. It may have only been a few hours since they had seen them, but they missed their babies fiercely.

"Did you have fun with Grandpa Robert and Nanas Ruth and Sera?" Snow cooed.

"Uh huh," Xander answered. The three of them smiled.

"As usual, they kept us on our toes," Sera said fondly.

"But we love every minute of it," Ruth added.

"Yeah...I'd say we definitely have the best job in all the United Realms," Robert agreed, as Emma arrived with Neal, Henry, and baby Tallie. Snow's three parents gathered with them next and finally Gold and Belle arrived with Gideon, as they planned to go into Granny's. Neal happened to turn and see someone that none of them had seen in three years in the street though.

"Hook?" he questioned, a bit apprehensively at first. He then relaxed as he spotted the little girl in his arms.

"Hello mate...it seems I'm not the only one that things have changed for," he replied.

"Is she yours?" Snow asked curiously. Killian smiled at the blonde child in his arms.

"She is. This is Alice and I've come back here to make a life for her. It's a bit of a long story, but I think Storybrooke is the ideal place to raise her...unless I'm unwelcome," he replied.

"That depends...you still out for revenge on my father?" Neal asked.

"I gave up revenge when she was born. Has he?" Hook replied, as he looked at Gold.

"It seems we have both embraced a second chance," Rumple stated firmly. Snow looked at her husband and David looked at his father. Robert nodded, signaling that he had mostly put what Hook had done behind him as well. He had his second chance as well and wasn't going to deny such to another father.

"Then why don't you and your daughter join us for dinner. She will definitely have plenty of playmates," Snow stated. Hook nodded.

"Thank you," he agreed, as he followed them into the diner. The saying that time healed wounds may have been a myth, for it was love that healed those wounds and it seemed that Hook was now an example of how children changed everything for the better...

[lunarowena]

Coffee Problem

For @pillarspromptsweekly #0079: Romance

*shows up five months late to the Valentine’s Day prompt with tea*

Coffee Shop AU

Almost Kiss

Love at First Sight

-

Cal had a coffee problem. Every day, the corner coffee shop. Venti drip coffee. It started out as an excuse to sit around and do homework. Her master's thesis wasn't going to write itself. So she'd head down to the coffee shop and sit with Aloth as they both typed away. They'd occasionally bounce ideas off of each other, but with him studying magic and her studying theology and philosophy, there was only so much content overlap. It was mostly for the company. It started off with the homework and the coffee and the company. And then the Dawnstars showed up outside. Cal didn't believe in love at first sight. But when she saw the dark haired Dawnstar from across the street she was willing to admit in crush at first sight. So when the woman smiled at her and shoved a religious pamphlet Cal's way, Cal took the thing, nodding like an idiot, and half ran into the coffee shop, her heart pounding, furiously hoping she wasn't blushing. This had been going on for two weeks.

Taking her pamphlet of the day, Cal ducked into the shop while stuffing the pamphlet on the teachings of Gaun into the back of a folder with the dozen others. Edér and Pallegina looked up from behind the counter as the bell above the door rang. Pallegina nodded to her and started to draw up her usual. Edér had her rung up by the time she got to the register. As she handed over the cash, he looked down at the folder she struggled with. "How many of those pamphlets do you have?" "Uh..." Cal mentally counted back the days. "Thirteen?" He handed her her change. "Why?" She dumped the change in the tip jar. "I read the first one. How Eothas slash Gaun fits into the cycle of reincarnation is an angle I should be considering in my thesis. I mean, I'm mostly focusing on how the Pallid Knight is a necessary element of the continuation of the cycle, but I can't discount how Eothas..." Cal trailed off as Pallegina handed over her coffee with an eye roll. "At least you buy coffee. If they're going to stand on our sidewalk preaching nonsense they could at least have the decency to buy something." "But," cut in Edér, "Why do you have thirteen?" "Um, well, it, uh, seems rude to ignore her–them. Ignore them." Cal's face was definitely warm at this point and she tried to hide behind her hair. "Have you talked to the nice lady?" "Nope! Thanks for the coffee! Gotta write!" Cal scurried over to her usual corner. Aloth already sat typing away with his customary mug of tea. He raised a questioning eyebrow as Cal hurried over juggling her folder, coffee, and bag. Cal shrugged with a slight wince as she collapsed in her chair, papers and pamphlets scattering everywhere. She blew a dark strand of hair out her eyes with a huff. "Do I want to know?" asked Aloth. "Maybe people should mind their own business," muttered Cal. "So what if I'm an idiot just because she's pretty?" "This does seem like the time to mind my own business." Aloth took a bite out of a croissant and turned back to his laptop. It started with the coffee. It should just be the coffee, Cal tried to convince herself as she gathered up her scattered papers and got to work. - The coffee shop was busy enough that Cal didn't look up every time someone entered, but she did when she heard a Readceran accent laughing at the counter. She looked over to see the dark haired Dawnstar leaning on the counter, batting her eyelashes at Edér. Cal quickly looked down, hiding her face behind her hair. It wasn't any of her business, she tried to tell the punch in her gut. She rewrote the same sentence five times. Cal was in enough of a fog she missed anyone approaching until the chair next to her scraped across the floor. "The cashier said you might wanna talk to me?" the dark haired Dawnstar drawled with a smile at Cal. Cal was going to murder Edér. "Uh, yeah. Although not about the good news of Gaun. I'm kind of taken by Berath. Except kind of about that because I'm writing my master's thesis." Gods, her eyes were beautiful. A rich brown, like a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. Keep it together, Cal.

The woman perked up when Cal mentioned Berath. “That’s alright there.” She took a sip through the straw of her ridiculously whip creamed drink and then leaned forward with a whisper, “Don’t tell Waenglith, but I’d bet you’re loads more interesting to talk to then the general crowd we’re trying to preach to.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Like I’m betting you have an opinion on Bennalto’s Treatise on Death?”

“I think he’s a bit simplistic and, while trying to rectify the overlap between Berath and Eothas, manages to exposit both sides and then never takes a stand.” Cal mentally winced. Good job, insulting the first book she brings up.

The woman took another sip of her sugary drink. “But you have to admit it’s a good introductory text.”

Cal leaned forward, papers falling off her lap. “Sure, if you expect people to never visit the subject again. I have a preference for Yanglith’s Reincarnation. Straightforward, to the point, well researched–”

“And dry as Hel.” The Dawnstar held up one finger. “And a bit biased toward Berath.”

“Well,” Cal shrugged. “I’m a bit biased toward Berath.”

The woman grinned. “Then why do you keep taking all my pamphlets?”

Aloth cleared his throat and stood up. “I think it’s time I got more tea. Watch my laptop, Cal?”

“Sure.” Cal didn’t look away from the dark haired Dawnstar.

The woman blinked. “Golly, where are my manners? I’m Xoti.” She held out her hand.

Calm down Cal, it’s just a handshake. Cal reached out and shook her hand. “Cal. Well, Calendula. But Cal.”

“Okay, Cal.” Xoti smiled again and Cal felt her stomach go all fuzzy. “So you come here often?”

“Uh, yeah.” It was just a harmless question. Not a pick up line. “Aloth and I are working on our master’s theses, and as long as we keep buying coffee they just let us sit here as long as we want.”

Xoti nodded. “I figured I might as well try the place since I’ve spent so much time outside.” She took another sip through her straw.

Cal stared. “What even is that?”

Xoti held up the drink. “Grande iced almond milk white mocha with caramel and toffee syrup and double whip.” She held it out. “Wanna try?”

Try. Her drink. Through her straw. Where her mouth had just been. Was that like kissing by proxy?

Some of Cal’s panic must have shown on her face because Xoti looked at her questioningly. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“No! It’s fine!” Cal said too quickly and grabbed the drink. She almost gagged on the sweetness. “This tastes like a candy bar.”

Xoti laughed, “That’s the point.” Her laugh was adorable. A little giggle with a snort at the end.

Stop staring, Cal. Okay, but why not? Her mouth went dry. This was going to go terribly. But she was going to do it. Grabbing one of Xoti’s own pamphlets, she scribbled down her number and handed it back to Xoti. “Just in case you want to talk some more sometime about death. Or get coffee. Or dinner. Or something. Anything, really.”

Xoti took the pamphlet and Cal could swear she slightly blushed. “Ain’t you the sweetest.” She winked as she stood up. “I might just have to take you up on that.”

Breathe, Cal.

“But I should get back to spreading the good news.” She smiled again at Cal. “See you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, see you around.”

As Xoti walked out of the shop, Cal fell back in her chair and stared straight ahead. Don’t panic. This was good. This was good, right?

Okay, maybe her problem wasn’t the coffee.

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