#big shoutout to all the books and authors that have kept me going so long

[tattedpetticoats]

I was tagged by the lovely @vintage-vermillion to tell you all my 2023 TBR (which I think stands for “to be read” list?). But the truth is I almost never actually have books in mind to read. I just pick up whatever is around with no forward-planning and dive in. I think mostly this appeals to me because nearly everything I do feels like it has some goal attached. The goal can be anything from “you need to do this work so you’ll get paid” to “you need to study this book so you’ll pass” to “you need to run the dishwasher so you have cutlery” to “you need to see every tumblr post on your dash or... Bad Things” and “you have to watch ALL of this youtube video you’re watching for entertainment”. And it’s utterly exhausting.

The one respite I have is that my brain doesn’t do this with books. Books will always be there. I can come back later. If I don’t finish it I might next week, or I might never, but whatever happens I can come back to it. In many cases, I already know how the story ends because I’ve read it often before.

So I have no goals with books in 2023. I might read hundreds. I might start reading hundreds and then not finish them. But I will enjoy them and treasure the fact that they give me this peace.

That being said, any recommendations?

[ana-deaky]

the lakes || Brian May x Reader

Summary:  An odd day of your summer vacation turns to be the day you meet the love of your life.

Warnings: Maybe a bit of bad writing. Other than that, we good to go! 

Author’s Note: This is my gift for @itsametaphorgwil​  for @queenandborhapevents 2 Year Celebration. It was a pleasure being part of the event! Special shoutout to the discord members, who were very motivating. 

The setting is in 1973 around the production of Queen II. I had to tweaks dates, to adjust it to the story. Y/N's academic and other details are left upto reader's imagination. So let it run wild. Enjoy!

You were back home in London for your Spring Break. Your best friend was on a romantic getaway with her boyfriend err fiancé. You have known the two of them since you were kids and this was the only time you both have spent your holidays apart since you met each other.

You slept. You woke up. You went about your day, until the weather cooled down. Then you picked up the book you were reading that week, picked up your usual cup of coffee for your way over to the park. You went to your favourite spot, there, under the shade of the Red Oak tree. You laid down the small picnic blanket and sat on it, stretching out your legs, crossing your legs at the ankle, your back against the tree and you continued reading or watched people as you listened to your music until the sun started setting and you walked back home.

But today... something changed...

You were the kind of person who had kept track of time. Oddly, that wasn't the case today. Your aunt and her husband were over for lunch, like every Sunday. The usual chit-chat and the lunch took longer than usual, by the time they left, you knew, the coffee place would be bustling with people at this hour. You decided to skip your coffee, for the day, which almost never happens. So you were walking the sidewalk, turning the corner towards the coffee shop. You were not one to tolerate slow-walkers, you paced up the sidewalk, stuck between two blokes. You were trying to surpass the tall man in front of you, when he stopped at his tracks.

What happened next, happened too fast. Only thing you could register was that you were drenching in water. A couple of ooh's and ah's were what you heard. "What the hell", you mumbled. A gasp and a series of apologies came from the man in front of you. "Brian, what did you do?", came another voice from behind. "Shut up, Fred", the tall man replied. "Are you alright?", he asked you as you retrieved a napkin and wiped your face.  "I'm fine.", you hissed sarcastically, "Just got a shower in the middle of the street. No big deal."

A burst of laughter came from behind, you turned your head to give them a mean look, "Oh it's funny now, is it?", you hissed. "Boys", you shook your head and mumbled. You walked away from the group towards your home. 

******************

A very short while back...

"What is wrong with that riff? It's perfect and it blends bloody well with the rest.", Brian said. "Why do you have to have the spotlight every single time? It's my band too. I have a say too.", Roger bickered. "Darlings, I'm supposed to be the drama queen. Quit bickering.", Freddie said. "Shut up!", said Brian and Roger together. "I tried", Freddie said to Deaky, shrugging. "What do you think, John?", asked Roger. "No guitar solo.", Deaky said firmly. Roger showed quite the excitement and added, "No solo."

Roger didn't stop rubbing the decision in Brian's face as they were going down to the cafe for a break, until a random girl walked between Roger and Brian. Brian halted when Roger stopped talking, turning on his heels to pour the water from his bottle. He gasped when he noticed that it was not Roger and that he just threw water on a stranger. 

*******

He watched her walk away as his friends teased him. "You, boys, carry on. I'm gonna go apologize to her.", Brian said. "Haven't you had enough already?", hissed Roger. "Bugger off, Rog. This happened because of your bickering.", Brian replied. "How's it my fault?", Roger screamed. "Hold it, Rog. We don't want you fighting in public anymore. We're rockstars not brawlers.", Freddie said. "Just get on with it, Brian", he added.

Brian paced behind the girl. "Excuse me?", he said.

*******

"Oh it's you again", you stopped walking and stood facing him, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier.", he said. You crossed your arms, "Well?"

"Look I'm very sorry for what happened. I should have been careful.", he said. "Thanks.", you said uncrossing your arms and looking down, "Well look at that, my shirt is still wet. Too bad.", you said and continued your walk home. "Hold on.", came the soft voice from behind. You turned around and said, "Look if you're gonna apologize, just don't bother." 

"I would feel bad if I didn't do something to make it up to you.", he said plainly with a hint of worry. "I didn't mean to worry you", you changed your tone, "I'm totally fine really." "I insist", he said. "Well then, what did you have in mind?", you asked. You could swear there was a slight smirk and his hazel eyes glistening. "What about coffee? Tomorrow?", he asked, "Same cafe?", he said pointing towards the direction of the cafe. "All right. What time?", you asked. He checked his watch and said, "How about the same time?" "Well then I'll see you tomorrow, umm, what's your name?", you asked. "Brian.", he said with a pressed smile. "Y/N", you said nodding, "See you tomorrow then." and you both walked your separate ways.

*****

The next day…

You walked inside the cafe round the time he suggested yesterday. You scanned across the almost empty cafe for the very distinct mop of curls sitting somewhere, he was not there yet. You checked the time again and took a seat in one of the tables near the windows, so he won’t miss you. You decided to kill some time reading your book. 

“Fan of crime thrillers, are you?”, you heard the familiar voice. You looked up as he took his seat opposite. “Apparently. She’s a very good writer.”, you said. “Yes. I am not the biggest fan of crime thrillers”, he said, “I’m sorry I’m late. Work held me back.”,Have you been here long?” “Not long. You’re good.”, you said tucking your book to the side of the table. “So, Y/N, what do you do?” “Umm I’m a University student. What about you?” “I'm with a band actually.” “Ooh that’s fun. What do you play?” “The guitar” “Cool. The goth guys from yesterday are your bandmates, aren’t they?” He laughed and said “Yea. They’ll be pleased to know how you referred to them.”

“I should probably get us something to drink. What would you like?”, he said getting up. “A latte?” “Anything else?” “I’m good.” 

He went up to the line near the counter, obviously taller than anybody else in the line. You resumed your reading, while you waited. You looked up often and whenever you did, Brian caught your eyes and gave you a smile. You placed the bookmark on the page and closed your book when you saw him walk to the table. He placed the tray with the drinks and took a seat.

“You don’t drink coffee?”, you asked, noticing the glass of grapefruit juice. “I don’t make it a habit.” “You really are an interesting specimen.”, you said taking a sip of your latte. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What actually happened yesterday?”, you asked. “It’s nothing really.”, he replied and took a sip of the juice. “I’m not gonna let that slide. You threw the water on me. I deserve to know why” “Alright. Alright. So me and the group are here to record an album. Anyways, I wrote a riff for one of the songs, so Roger and I, the blonde guy, were arguing whether or not to have it in or not all the way. And I swear he was rubbing it in my face when the others said no to the riff and I couldn’t contain my anger any longer. I assumed that he was right behind me and I did what I did.”

“Glad it was water and not a punch”, you said shrugging. “Me too.” “So what’s your group called?” “We’re called Queen.” “Oh. I know you guys. I mean I have heard your record.” “You have?” “Yes. You guys are good.” “Thank you very much. Any specific song caught your mind?” “Keep yourself alive was a bop” “Ah I see”, he said grinning. “What are you grinning about? Oh you wrote the song didn’t you?” He smiled and nodded. “I sing a part in the bridge there.” “I see. I’ll check it out the next time it comes on radio” “Thank you”

“So when is the next album?” “Uh well. Hopefully before the fall season. We’re still writing. The works,y'know” “Good luck with your album then.” “Thank you.” 

And so, the conversation continued. Brian was mostly interested in listening to you and always had that enthusiastic smile on his face. You, on the other hand, loved to hear him talk, especially with that soft voice. You didn’t know how long the talk went until you unintentionally looked out the window. You checked your watch, “Oh. I should get going. I’m usually home by this time.”, you said. “Oh. Don’t worry about it. I should get back to the studio anyway.” “Bye, Brian. Thanks for the coffee.”, you said getting up. Brian stood up with you, “Yes. It was very lovely getting to know you, Y/N.”, you almost melted at him saying your name, but you didn’t dare show it. “I’ll see you around, I guess”, you smiled and waved him goodbye, he repeated the same.

You walked out of the cafe, then towards home. “Y/N”, came a shout from behind. You turned around saying, “Yes?” Brian stopped near you and panted saying, “You forgot your book.” “Aww. Thank you, Brian. You’re too nice.” “No problem. Listen Y/N”, he said, “Look I really loved the talk we just had. And I loved every minute I spent with you. So would you like to go on a date with me, so we can get to know each other better?” 

“You seem very nice and very straight-forward, which is a quality I like in men. So yes. I would love to go on a date with you.”, you said. “May I have your phone number? I’ll call you soon.” “Alright. I’ll wait for your call”, you searched for a pen in your bag when Brian gave you his, “Thank you”, you said and scribbled your name and phone number in your notebook and tore the paper to give it to him. “I’ll talk to you later, then”, Brian said, putting the folded paper inside his pocket, followed by his pen. “See you later, Brian” and you walked home. 

*****

Brian called you up on the weekend to ask you out for dinner. One date turned into two, and later a three, four and  a five. He even took you over to the studio to introduce you to the boys. And here you are, on a Friday evening trying to reach your “boyfriend” on the phone.

You waited a few rings until someone picked up the phone. “Trident Studios.”, came a voice in a very distinct accent. “John?” “Yes. Who’s this?” “It’s Y/N. Can you put Brian on the phone?” “Oh hey Y/N, yea. Hold on he’s just got out of the booth.”, he said and you heard, “Brian, phone call for you.” 

“Hello?” “Brian!” “Y/N. How are you, love?” “I’m good. Just busy with some work for University. How is your day going?” “Freddie quit the band twice. Roger threw a tantrum, which is not a surprise. Deaky is being, well.. Deaky. Surprisingly, I’m almost done with one of my songs.” “That’s fantastic. Listen, are you free tomorrow afternoon?” “Yes. I can take a break.” “Wonderful. Pack your swim shorts or whatever. And bring a towel maybe.” “Where are we going?” “That’s a surprise.” “Alright. When and where would we meet?” “You know the bus stop near the park?” “How about I borrow Roger’s car and I’ll pick you up from your home?” “That sounds good. I’ll see you at 1?” “Yes.I’ll see you then.” “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

*****

Brian was right on time. You drove the car while he sat on the passenger side, he kept trying to figure out where you both were going, you never gave in so he diverted to talking about Queen and his latest writings.

“We’re here”, you said parking the car. You got out of the car to retrieve your hamper from the boot. “Why are we in the middle of the woods?” “Stop exaggerating. The town is just a mile down the road, Brian.” You proceeded to walk through the path, Brian followed closely to catch up with you and held your hand as you both walked towards the spot. “Not many people come here. So Jane and I come here all the time.” “When do I get to meet Jane?’ “Most probably next week. She can’t wait to meet you.” “You told her?” “Yea. Why wouldn’t I?” “Oh it’s nothing. I thought you were gonna tell her in person.” “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“We’re here.”, you said standing at the edge opening to the banks of the lake. “This is beautiful.” You set your hamper down on the gravel-y soil and spread a beach towel. “Lunch or swim?” “Swim” “Good choice.” You kneeled down to take off your sandals while Brian was sitting down to take off his “precious” clogs. 

You stood up to take off your dress over your head. You were showing skin except for your pink and white checkered bathing suit. You could actually feel Brian’s eyes on you as you did. His mouth opened, his pupils blown wide, drinking you in until you threw the dress at his face. “Take a picture, lasts longer.”, said. He just shook his head and pulled his half unbuttoned shirt over his head, threw it over your dress. “You coming or no?”, you asked walking towards the water. 

“Wait up.”, he said. You stepped into the water. You swam around until Brian finally joined in. First thing you did, splash the water on his face. He ran his palm down his face, “What was that for?” “To commemorate our first meeting”, you said swimming over to Brian, your hands twining behind his neck, kissing him. “Aww. I love you.”, he said when you pulled away. And then he held you by the shoulders and pushed you in the water and swam away, when you pulled up on the surface, you said, “I’m so gonna get you for that.” And so continued the fun.

A bit of fun and a picnic lunch later, both of you were laying side by side on your towels, holding hands, talking about anything and everything. You lied down on your side, your head supported by your right hand. “Brian?”, you whispered, your other hand toying with his wet hair. “Hmm?” “I need to tell you something.” Brian sat up, facing you, he said, ‘What is it?” He said tucking some hair behind your hair. “Summer break gets over in 4 weeks.” “So?” “Where does that put us?” “We are still gonna be us. Together.” You smiled and side-hugged him. “Besides”, he resumed, “The album is starting to come together. We’ll probably be swamped with work and the final touches a few weeks later. And it’s not like we can’t keep in touch. We can call or I could come down and visit you.” “I’m so happy that I have you in my life.” “Me too.” “I had a wonderful time with you, today. When are we coming back alone?” “Some day one day…”     

******

Two months later …

The goodbyes were definitely hard, but taken well. And Brian seemed to be engaged more in the album, which kept him distracted. You had University to do that for you. 

And on this particular Friday, you were drowning in homework when your roommate walked in. You looked up to the door, when she came in. “Hey Y/N, you’ve got mail.”, she said putting down a couple of letters and what looked like a square box on your table.

You opened the box carefully. There was a letter and the cover of the album, showing your boyfriend and his mates on the front and ‘Queen II’ written on top. You remembered him mentioning about the album releasing soon, on the phone last week. You took out the album and turned it over to see the song titles and there it was ‘Some Day One Day’ . “You don’t mind if I put the record on, would you?” “I don’t mind” You walked over to the record player, put on the record and put the player arm on the 4th song of the White side. 

The light guitar strumming started, when you got back to your chair to open the letter. You saw the pictures of you and Brian, that Roger took on Freddie’s camera a week before you left for University, first. Then a couple of pictures with the boys. You left them in the box. And took out the letter, the first thing that crossed your mind, how neat his calligraphy was. It read:

Dearest Y/N,

I know we talk over the phone most days, I felt that the letter would feel much more personal and from the heart than telling you on the phone.

If I am taking a gamble here, you have already seen the vinyl, the pictures and probably playing our song. And you’re smiling, because either I said that exactly as it is or because you’re mocking. What I’d give to see that smile right now and to listen to the song together. But some day one day..

Wonderful pictures, aren’t they? I nagged Freddie into getting the pictures developed soon, so I could send those with the vinyl. I can be persuasive and you know it. And fun fact, I have framed one of our pictures and put it on my nightstand. (You’re smiling again.)

I miss you dearly. And I love you so much. Will talk soon. Take care!

Yours, 

Bri

P.S. Freddie wants to know what you think about the album and the boys say Hi!

You sat back on the chair, happy as ever listening to your boyfriend sing, hugging the letter.

******

Tagging: @likesomekindofcheese​  @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @sebxstiianstxn​  @queenandborhapevents​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury​ @violaslloyds @anironsidh​ @221roses​ @mazzell-ro​ @amethyst-serenade​ @stewielover95​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​ @snugglyducklingbrewhouse​ @captaincoffeegirl515​

[niseamstories]

Tl;dr: The heavily revised physical edition Dreams of the Dying, my novel set in the Enderal universe, is now available for pre-order via Amazon via my website. Special early bird prices are $32.99 for the hardcover with an illustrated appendix, $12.99 for the paperback, and $2.99 for the eBook. It’s a prequel featuring Jespar, but, for reasons outlined below, opens up a new canon. Amazon.de has yet to pick up the listing for the physical editions, but they are incredibly slow—I’m working to get that done.

Hey guys,

This is Nicolas, the writer of Enderal speaking. As some of you may know, I’ve been working on an Enderal novel, Dreams of the Dying. First released as a web version, I spent the past year completely rewriting and improving the book, adding and removing chapters, revising characters arcs, and improving plotting, worldbuilding, and style. In total, I rewrote the web edition three times from cover to cover. Well, it’s finally time: Dreams of the Dying is now available for pre-order on Amazon!

The English version of Dreams of the Dying will release on October 20. A German (and perhaps Russian) translation will follow as soon as possible.

Please note that this is a rendering and that the actual hardcover looks slightly different, with same format but a matte dust jacket and a matte, laminated case. A big shoutout to Dominik Derow for the cover artwork, Johanna Krünes for her cover design, and Joyce, for her tips, patience, and help with this product shot.

Jaaros Oonai, magnate, visionary, and master of coin, doesn’t muse about whether the glass is half empty or half full—only about ways to fill it.

Jespar Dal’Varek, drifter, mercenary, and master of avoidance, doesn’t muse at all. He’d rather just drink the damn wine.

Two lives that could not be more different intertwine when a strange contract leads Jespar to the tropical island empire of Kilay, the wealthiest nation of the Civilized World.

The mission turns out to be as bizarre as it is lucrative: Jaaros Oonai, the country’s merchant king, knows something that could stop a catastrophe, but he has fallen into an inexplicable coma. Together with an ex-priestess and a psychic, Jespar must enter Oonai’s dreams and find this secret.

What should have been a fresh start rapidly turns into a nightmare, as Jespar slides into a spiral of disturbing dreams, political intrigue, and clashing ideals, where not only the fate of Kilay but his own sanity are at stake. It’s not long before he learns that only a spider’s thread divides the sleeping and the awoken.

And that there’s no greater enemy than one’s own mind.

The hardcover edition comes with an appendix that includes additional lore, such as an illustrated bestiary, a guide to Kilayan fashion, illustrations of the (re-envisioned) seven Light-Born, a short guide to the Makehu language, and much more.

Even though Dreams could be considered a prequel, I didn’t write this as an expansion or fan service but rather as my debut, and a book that stands on its own. This edition differs vastly from the web version, and, though it is up to you to judge, I’m a million times happier with it.

If you’re on the fence and would like to wait for reviews—here’s hoping I get enough—I fully understand. However, if you would buy the novel, you’d do me a great favor if you considered pre-ordering. One of the biggest challenges as an indie author is exposure; since Amazon registers all pre-orders as Day 1 sales, a lot of Day 1 sales would give me a chance to climb in the novel’s category and boost visibility for readers outside the Enderal community. To make this worth it to you, the book will sell for a special early bird price of $32.99 for the hardcover with the illustrated appendix, $12.99 for the paperback, and $2.99 for the eBook, as opposed to $37, $16, and $5. Just follow the link to my website and click pre-order—it will take you right to your local Amazon marketplace.

Unfortunately, Amazon.de has yet to pick up the listing for the physical editions, but they are incredibly slow—I’m working to get that done.

I’m aware the hardcover is in the upper price range, but it uses the best materials, and the illustrated appendix cost a lot to produce. It’s also the only edition where I make a more solid revenue, so see it as a way to support my work, if you wish.

If you’re a patron and pledged $110 or more since October 2018, I’ll be in touch a few weeks before launch to send out your signed hardcover copy right away. Thanks again for your support, Dreams became a far pricier project than I anticipated, and your patronage helped me immensely in covering the cost.

Lastly, a word of warning before you pre-order: For the paperback edition, I took the drastic step to separate Dreams and all future Enderal novels from the game canon. There are two good reasons for this. First, the Vyn games were created over 17 years, the earliest one being Myar Aranath in 2003. Fascinating as this idea may be, it also means that the lore of the Vyn universe was created by a myriad of different authors (the latest and current one being me when I joined the team in 2011). As a result of this, the lore of Vyn has always felt a little disjointed and inconsistent; I initially took these differences as challenges to conquer, but the longer I wrote, the more I realized how much these inconsistencies bothered me and how hard they made it to write the story and the universe I envisioned. Let me assure you that this decision wasn’t easy and does not reflect a lack of appreciation for the work of the previous workers. I stayed faithful to the lore whenever possible.

The second reason is a trickier one: Jespar. This character has been in my mind for nine years now, and I love him with all my heart. Still, the more I immersed myself in the story of Dreams, the more I grew aware of how incredibly constraining it was to write a story where the end is already written; because Jespar is alive in 8234 a. St. (1234 P.L. in new canon lore), you all know he will never be in real danger. Again, there is undoubtedly an intriguing challenge to writing such a “safe” story, but—similar to the lore, I increasingly felt like I was writing with fetters on. 

So, what does this mean? Aside from the fact that anything can now happen, the consequences aren’t that drastic. Enderal is still Enderal, and Jespar is still Jespar, albeit thirteen years younger and at another point in his life. I changed and expanded details about his backstory, but his essential conflicts are still the same, only refined. Major changes include modifications to the Light-Born (their aspects, how they came to be, when and how they disappeared, and the societal consequences of that disappearance), the time frame of the different eras, and a complete rework of the magic system. Minor changes include dates, the spelling of names and locations (Kilay, not Kilé), and others details I tweaked for consistency and worldbuilding coherence.

And that’s about it. I’m aware and grateful for the love many of you have for this world, and believe me, I did my best to honor it; I just realized I cannot tell a good story with one arm tied behind my back. If it’s any solace, I can promise you that new book canon is ironclad – I’m pathologically obsessive about consistency and cohesive worldbuilding, but without a solid framework, that’s a recipe for frustration and disaster. See it as a different but nearby eventuality: details and fates may differ, but the soul of the world remains the same.

If all that didn’t scare you off, pre-order away! I also set up a Goodreads page for the book, so you can add it to your To-Be-Reads or even recommend it to your friends – this is an indie project by all means, so I’m grateful for every bit of support. Please keep in mind that the Goodreads is for the revised edition, not the web edition, so if you’re planning to leave a low rating, I’d be grateful if you waited to read the actual book in October 20. It’s a different experience.

Last but not least, a big thank you to everyone who supported me on Patreon, created fanart for Enderal, or just let me know they enjoyed this game and were looking forward to the novel. This novel was meant to be a 6-month stint but, boy, did it turn into something more. It sounds sentimental, but this last year has been rough personally, and your support and encouragement kept me going.

I hope this story will live up to your expectations.

Best,

Nicolas

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[thewatchau]

Arrivals from the Other Side of the Forest Part 1

Author’s Note: This one’s been sitting for a while. TW: fever, mentions of death, grief

Bard’s Note: Shoutout to @theshapeshifter100​ for writing this! Cut added for length.

___***___***___

It had been raining for three days solid, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Cyril Paris made sure all the shutters were latched shut and got the fire going. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the near black clouds seemed to make night come hours early.

He sat in his old, comfortable chair, spectacles resting on his nose as he did some light reading, a steaming mug of tea on the table next to him.

A loud knocking echoing through the house startled him. He put his book down and eased himself out of the chair. He wasn’t sure exactly what time it was anymore, but it was definitely too late for patients. Although, at this hour, it could be an emergency.

He grabbed a lantern from the side of the door, and lit it just before he opened the front door, squinting a little to see in the dark sheets of rain. In front of him was a man about his age and taller, soaked to the skin and hair plastered to his skull.

There was movement on the man’s chest, and Cyril realised that he was holding a child under his cloak.

“I’m sorry,” the man started. “Everyone told us this was the place to go, I know it’s late but I’ve got nowhere else to go and I-!”

“Come in, quickly!” Cyril stepped to one side and ushered the pair in, closing the door behind them. He chivvied the two of to the room he had been relaxing in, since that’s where the fire was.

The man stood awkwardly, holding the child protectively as Cyril put the lantern on the floor.

“Wet clothes off, quickly now,” Cyril didn’t take embarrassment into account right now. He was a doctor, these were his patients, and if they kept those wet clothes on they’d catch a chill. “I’ll find some dry things for you.”

“You really don’t-”

Cyril was already going upstairs, finding a clean shirt and trousers for the man, and after some consideration, getting one of Charles’s old shirts for the girl. It would be too big, but he didn’t have anything smaller.

Back downstairs the man had shed his cloak, and that was about it. He hadn’t let go of the child, who had long, knotted blonde hair.

“I told you to take the wet clothes off!” Cyril was exasperated. “I know it’s embarrassing, but I won’t watch.”

The man looked uncertain, especially as Cyril handed over the dry clothes. Cyril turned around, and to his relief he heard the sound of wet cloth being peeled off.

“We’re done,” the man said awkwardly, in an accent that Cyril found familiar. He turned around to see the man awkwardly holding the bundle of wet clothes in one hand, and the child in the other. A torque peaked out from the man’s new shirt collar. Now that Cyril could see them, he saw that the child was shaking.

“Are they alright?”

“I, no, I don’t think so. She has a fever…”

Cyril’s eyes went wide and he moved to place the back of his hand on the girl’s forehead. She was indeed burning up, and didn’t appear to be fully conscious.

“Drop the clothes on the floor, I’ll be right back!”

Cyril tore out of the room to his work supply cabinet, then into the kitchen to boil some water. It was far too late to call in at the apothecary, but he had the supplies to bring down a fever.

He mixed a herbal tea together, and while it seeped he prepared a bowl of cool water and a rag to soak in it. He took the mug and bowl into the living room and urged the pair into a side room, usually where he kept overnight patients.

The child was placed in the bed, propped up into a sitting position with some pillows. Cyril put the bowl to one side for now and turned to the man.

“What’s her name?”

“Lacy.”

“Okay, Lacy?” he turned his attention to the girl. “Lacy can you hear me?”

There was a soft mumble and Lacy’s eye flickered open.

“That’s it, hi,” Cyril had put on the soft, calming voice he had when dealing with child patients.

“…Momma…?”

“I’m afraid your momma’s not here,” Cyril said sympathetically. “You’re a bit poorly Lacy, but I’ve got something that will make you feel a bit better,” he lifted the cup to her eyeline. “It won’t taste nice, but you need to drink it, okay?”

Cyril had no idea how much of that she’d taken in, but Lacy did nod weakly.

“Atta girl. I’m just going to hold it to your lips now,” he did just that, cupping her head gently with his other hand. As expected, Lacy spluttered as the bitter tea hit her tongue. “Sorry sweetheart, but you’re doing so well.”

Slowly, with a lot of encouragement, she drank the tea and Cyril put the cup to one side.

“You’re going to feel a bit sleepy now. That’s fine, just drift off, and when you wake up, you should feel a bit better.”

Lacy’s eyes were indeed fluttering, and Cyril lowered her down to lie properly on the bed, sheets tucked up under her chin. Finally he retrieved the rag from the bowl, wrung it out so it was damp, and placed it on her forehead.

Lacy sighed and sank into the bed. Her face was still red and slick with sweat, but now she looked calmer.

Cyril relaxed a little and turned to the man, presumably her father, and then frowned. His face was a running a bit red too.

“May I?”

“Um, of- of course.”

Cyril rested the back of his hand against the man’s forehead and found that he too was running hot. Not nearly as bad as Lacy, but it was still there.

“You’re running warm yourself,” he reported. “Wait here.”

He returned with another cup of the herbal tea, diluted a little. “Drink this, your fever isn’t as bad so this should stave it off.”

The man took the cup, but didn’t drink from it.

“I, I have nothing to pay you with.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cyril settled into a nearby chair, one eye on Lacy.

“But, you’ve done us a service…”

“Yes, and it is true that I charge my patients, the manner of which depends on the patient and the case, and I would never charge what they cannot afford. You have turned up in the middle of the night absolutely soaked, and looking, quite frankly, exhausted.” Cyril smiled warmly. “I would assume that all you can pay me with is your company.”

The man shifted uncomfortably, but did take a sip of tea. He wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste, but soldiered on.

“Still, how can I repay your kindness doctor?”

“Call me Cyril, I’m out of hours.”

“Cyril, I ask again, how can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Cyril assured. “Although perhaps you could tell me your name?”

“Elliot,” there was a pause before he hurriedly tacked on “Anthurium.”

Cyril stiffened. He knew that name. He had heard that name for the first and last time in 1576, nearly 40 years ago.

“I see, Elliot Anthurium.”

Elliot slumped, but did not look surprised at the reaction. “I see my family’s reputation has spread to even here.”

Cyril didn’t respond, leaving the room to put out the fire in the main room and transfer the embers to here. The atmosphere had gotten frosty.

Cyril watched Elliot while stoking the fire. The younger man was taller than he or Helen, thinner too, as though he had not been eating well. Or perhaps his journey from the Western Forest had slimmed him? Helen had been thin when she arrived.

The main question Cyril had was why. Why here? Why now? Why come looking after all this time?

“I, I’m sorry if my family has done you wrong, in any way.”

“On the contrary. My only interaction with your family brought me great joy.”

Elliot sat for a moment, before sitting up straight in realisation. “You know Helen!”

“Indeed I did,” Cyril stood up, and hoped his use of past tense would clue Elliot in.

“Do you know where I can find her…” Elliot trailed off. “On second thoughts, she probably wouldn’t want to see me. Or recognise me! It’s been 40 years since I’ve seen her. I might not even recognise her.”

Turmoil bubbled in Cyril’s heart, but he said nothing.

“I take it she mentioned us then?”

“In passing.”

“Nothing good I imagine.”

“She described her family as so blind to their faith they were also blind to the suffering of their children, and then said nothing else on the subject.”

Elliot nodded. “That sounds right,” he looked at Lacy.

“…Although it seems things change over generations.”

“I’m nothing like my parents,” Elliot spat.

“That sounds like a good thing.”

Elliot nodded, taking another swig of bitter tea. “How well do you know Helen?”

Cyril’s heart ached.

“Intimately.”

It seemed take Elliot a few minutes to process that, and his eyes landed on the ring on Cyril’s finger.

“You two… You’re my…?” Elliot paled. “You’re my brother-in-law?”

“If you are Helen’s brother, then yes.”

Elliot sat down heavily in a nearby chair, and swallowed. “I, er, wow…” he honestly looked a little scared, and Cyril wondered if it was because of him, or something else. “So, so she’s here? In this house?”

Cyril’s eyes burned and he ducked his head.

“…No,” even know he couldn’t say it. It hurt so much to say it.

“Then, where?”

Cyril took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had to say it. There was no getting around it. He wanted to leave it until tomorrow, but, that was just him putting it off, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry. Helen passed away ten years ago.”

Only the sound Lacy’s laboured breathing and the popping of burning logs could be heard. Cyril wordlessly replaced the water in the cloth.

“…dead?”

“Ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago…” Elliot looked so, defeated. It was clear he’d been resting his hopes in his sister, and those hopes had been snatched from him.

“It’s getting late,” Cyril stood up quickly. “I will watch over Lacy for the night. Go upstairs, first door on the left. You’ll find sheets in the cupboard. Finish your tea.”

“Cyril-”

Cyril moved his chair next to Lacy’s bed, and did not respond.

“Cyril, please.”

Still no response, and after a few minutes, he could hear Elliot leaving the room and going upstairs.

Cyril let out a long sigh through his nose. Ten years. Ten years and now he went days, weeks sometimes without thinking of Helen, as was the nature of grief. He technically had stopped mourning. It was said that you stopped mourning when you could remember the person you had lost without feeling pain.

Yet, pain was what he was feeling now. A ghost from Helen’s past at arrived at his doorstep, and he had no idea how to deal with it.

He remembered Ivy, and how she had said she might have seen Helen in some Fae Realm. Cyril didn’t know what to think of it then, and still didn’t now. He just hoped she wouldn’t do anything reckless.

It was Ivy, of course she would be reckless.

Cyril suddenly sniffed, running a hand across his nose. This was not the life he had expected with Helen. He had expected, wanted, to grow old with her, to watch the sun set over the sea and see their children grow into their own families.

Helen had not seen that. Had never met Mags and will never meet Yarra and Ed. She would love them, that Cyril was sure of, and yet, she was not here to see them.

A deep ache wrenched open his heart and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself openly sobbing. He missed her. In this moment he missed her so desperately he could almost feel her in his arms, could almost hear her voice. He wanted her back so badly it felt like he was being torn in two.

Lacy whimpered in the bed, and he stiffly removed and replaced the cloth, and pushed back the girl’s sweaty hair from her face.

He had a patient to take care of. He had to be alert, in case the fever got worse.

In the past, when he had sat vigil like this, Helen had come downstairs to keep him company. She would have a mug of hot tea in her hand, and a book in the other to pass the time. What he would give to have her company now.

Instead, her brother, his brother-in-law, and presumably their niece were here. Helen had never talked about her family, stating the mere basics. She had one. They were bad. They were in Fasithe.

Elliot however, if first impressions were anything to go by, seemed like a quiet man. Maybe he was just exhausted, but, maybe his family had beaten him down. Helen had never mentioned siblings.

Now wasn’t the time. Now he had to watch this child, and hope her fever broke. He could deal with messy family business in the morning.

[shestillhasherquill]

At the Heart of Darkness (1/11)

Hoorayy! It's time for my Captain Swan Big Bang fic's grand reveal. I am soooo excited for every one to read this. But before that, I would be remiss if I do not thank the Mods for organising this event. Go check out the other great fics and artwork on their tumblr: @captainswanbigbang​ They were so understanding when I had to miss a check-in and gave me an extension. I never thought I'd finish this story after I lost my dad, because there is A LOT of Father-Daughter content in this, but I pushed through because I wanted to get this fic out there. I love the idea, and I know it might not appeal to some people, what with Alice in the fic. To those people, I say: 'I respect your likes and dislikes. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Respect that I do, and I don't want negative comments or drama. Thank you.'

I can't thank Maggie aka @accio-ambition​ enough. She was more than my Beta, she was my bae-ta. She pushed me and yelled at me and got stressed out for me, while I chilled out. She has made me question myself and correct myself and been the best GD cheerleader in the world. I LOVE YOU, MAN. Most of the fic was panic written and if it weren't for @accio-ambition​ and @sambethe​ this would be a mess.

A HUGE SHOUTOUT to @sambethe​ for being a second beta practically, on top of being my artist, who made a KICKASS BANNER and a bunch of art that I CANNOT wait for you all to see. She's just the best, most understanding and kind-of always put up with my anxiety rants. Thanks, babe. Check out her original artwork post!

ALSO @downeystarkjr​ made 2 VIDEOS OF THIS FIC WHAT I'm crying you guys. They are amazing, she's amazing and just asdfghjkl; time for fic guys.

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel

AO3/FF.net

Prologue

“Papa, are you listening to me?”

“Of course, starfish. When am I not?” Killian answered, turning from the book he was reading and toward his daughter. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her dangling from a wooden beam by just her fingertips. “Alice Jones, get down this instant.”

“Will you catch me, Papa?” she called out, giggling. Suddenly everything around them turned dark, and Killian could hardly see. His panic rose, as he called out to his daughter. “Alice? Alice, answer me, love!”

“Papa, catch me. Catch me, Papa.” That was all he heard, echoing around him. “Don’t let me fall, Papa. Don’t leave me!” Alice’s voice grew from playful to frightful, the echoes growing fainter and fainter by the minute. Killian tried walking through the darkness, but it seemed Alice was moving farther away from him in the endless night. He was surrounded by it, like he was lost at sea.

A moment later, he could not hear her voice at all. “Alice? Alice! Where are you, darling? ALICE!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

Killian gasped awake, eyes shooting wide and hands grabbing tight on his sheets. It was that dream again, about the girl - Alice. Papa, she called him, but he did not have a daughter that he knew of. He had been having these dreams for years, and they never made any sense. He always woke up filled with an inexplicable desperation, like he needed to get back to that strange girl.

Every doctor he had been to had said the same thing - they were just dreams. How else could he explain the strange surroundings he found himself in during these dreams. Most times it was with this young girl, Alice, in some kind of a room, high up in a tower. Sometimes, there was another blonde woman, but he has never seen her face. He could not pick her out of a line-up if he had to, in all honesty. But unlike the dreams with the girl, whenever he dreamed of that woman, he woke up crying and his chest hurting.

There were days that he cursed these dreams - they remind him just how truly alone he was in this world. He had a brother once, who he served with in the Navy, but that seemed like it was centuries ago. He did not have a daughter, nor did he know blonde woman like the one plaguing his dreams. He had no one. Why would his mind taunt him so? Show him this life, in this strange land - when all he had was a 20-year sober chip and a job that doesn’t necessarily require him to stay in one place. He’d been searching, going from city to city, town to town, looking for a place to call home.

He’d been in this seaside town for the past two months, and as much as he enjoyed how quaint it was, it just didn’t feel right. Not that he could tell anyone what was - all he knew was he would feel it the moment it was right - he would have found home. Whatever this town was, it was not that.

Killian sighed, trying to put the dream out of his mind, slipping out of bed, grabbing his phone on the way. He punched in his agent’s number, putting him on speaker as he went about starting his morning brew.

“Hello, Jones. Which part of the world are you calling from now?” came Will’s voice, an undertone of exasperation barely concealed.

“I’m still in England, Will,” Killian replied, rolling his eyes. “No need to be an arse so early in the morning.” He turned on the coffee maker, grabbing his phone off the countertop. “Did you get the new chapters I sent you a couple of days ago?”

“Ah, that. Yes, I did. Great work, man. They are great, just a few notes from your editor. I’m sending you an e-mail about it as we speak. But we are quite ahead of schedule so far.”

“Good, good,” Killian mumbled. “I might be leaving this town soon. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Colour me surprised. What is right, Jones? You’ve been travelling like a fucking hermit.” Will’s tone was starting to grate on Killian’s nerves.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Sanders.” Killian scowled at the wall. He did not need yet another person questioning his decisions - he was doing enough of that himself.

There was a tense silence over the phone before Will finally spoke. “All right. I don’t have any rights to question how you live your life. Just remember that once you’re done with this book, you need to do at least some touring and book signings.”

Killian resisted the urge to groan. As much as he enjoyed the life of leisure being a published author offered, the public appearances and PR were his least favorite part of his job.

“Yes, I remember. There’s still time for that, is there not? I’ll be back stateside in three months.”

“For good? Or just for the book?”

“Well, it’s not to see your ugly mug, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, Will.” And with that dismissal, he hung up. He fixed himself a cup of coffee, carrying it over to his designated work station. He passed a mirror on the way, pausing to stare at his reflection. He stared at it long and hard, trying to find any change in it, but he didn’t. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. The same face he has been staring at for the past 20 years - nothing has changed. He realised this little fact about himself a few years ago. He has not aged a day in 20 years. He does not remember what triggered it - he does not remember much, if he was brave enough to admit it. His memory of the past 20 years are pristine, he could remember every single detail. But before that? It was all a blur, like a dream. One could only laugh at that irony: somehow his dreams seem more real than his past.

He shook his head, walking away from the mirror and sitting at his desk. Taking a long sip from his mug, he pulled his sketchpad towards him, grabbing a spare bit of charcoal and scratching out a rough portrait of the girl from his dreams, etching her image on paper, hoping to trigger something that would make him understand why he kept seeing her, why she called him ‘Papa’. And who the mysterious blonde was.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

Killian was woken from his slumber by soft murmuring around him. “Swan, settle down and go back to sleep, love,” he grumbled, reaching for his lady-love with an outstretched arm. They were finally able to convince Alice to stay the night with Smee while they stole a night to themselves.

When his arm met the sheets covering their bed at the inn where they’d spent the night, instead of Emma’s soft skin, his eyes flew open. He scrambled out of bed, reaching for his trousers when he heard her laughter. He turned around, pants hanging loosely around his hips, unlaced and held up with just his hand. There she sat, in one corner of the room, wearing his shirt - and naught else - a book in her hand. “You’re- you’re reading?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hook. I was brought up a princess, you know,” she teased, sliding out of her perch, the book landing on the floor with a thud.

He grabbed her when she was within arms’ reach, hand curling on her hip, lips grazing hers gently. “Aye, I know, Princess.” He pulled back before she could deepen their kiss. “I am a little hurt that you chose to read a book, when you could have woken me up. We could have engaged in more, ah..enjoyable activities.” When he noticed her hesitation, he felt his insecurities flare up - it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. In fact, that wretched witch was the last person he had been intimate with. He backed away a little from Emma, his arms dropping to his side. “Unless, of course it wasn’t enjoyable for you, love. I- it has been a while.”

“Oh, no, no. Killian, no,” Emma was quick to assure him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “No, last night was perfect. You were perfect, I promise.” Her cheeks tinted lightly at the boyish grin that took over his face. She turned back to grab the large tome before she faced him again. “I was reading this - a grimoire. I wanted to see if I could find some way to break Alice out of that tower. I’ve been doing my own research, but I did not want to tell you and Alice before I found something concrete. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Killian felt his throat close up, his heart clenching at her gesture. He had always known that Emma cared for his Alice almost as much as he did - it was because of his love for Alice that it took him almost a year to warm up to Emma’s presence in their lives. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things.

“I- I couldn’t give up. I know I promised I would be more careful with my magic, but I just...,” Emma shrugged, trialing off, having mistook his silence for anger.

He was quick to reassure her, pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Emma. I do not know what Alice and I would do without you in our lives,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

He felt Emma’s smile against his chest, her arms clenched tight around the book. “You never have to find out.”

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

There were so many things Killian was grateful for, but the internet had to be the most important. It was much easier to find a great place to stay, that still afforded him the solitude that he craved, thanks to the wonder of AirBnB. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he walked down the small hill his lone house was on, his reusable shopping bag and notebook keeping him company. As much as he has moved around, he was still a creature of habit. He had made himself the same dinner every Saturday - a pot of hot stew and some marmalade sandwiches for a light snack later. And every Friday, like today, he would walk into town, hit up the local markets and do a spot of shopping. Then, he would spend the day people watching, sitting at the benches in the city center. He would describe everything he saw around him - from the changing weather, to the street musicians playing their tune. The sight of the fresh fruits and vegetables at the market; the ruckus created by students who had survived yet another week. All of it, he would note down - he would build his own stories, even.

He might fool everyone, sometimes even himself, into thinking all of this was for research. But he had been doing this for as long as he could remember, as if he was writing things for someone stuck in a prison, hoping that his writing would provide them with some semblance of the world outside. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t done this - but he had no one to share these stories with. So even as he filled notebook after notebook, each of various shape and size, some leather bound with parchment paper, some of them scraps of napkins bound together - even as he recorded everything, the only purpose it served was collecting dust at the house he had in Atlanta - the one and only residence he has had throughout his adult life. The same one he had bought twenty years ago, a quaint blue house with a wraparound porch and a white picket fence, waiting for the day it will be called ‘home’.

And so like clockwork, Killian sat at his usual bench, his view of the town unencumbered from this point, and observed the ongoings. Somehow, this time, his heart was not in it. His dreams had become more frequent recently, and he was loathe to go back on the pills he had been prescribed. They stopped the dreams completely, but that made him feel even worse, even more alone. As much as the dreams - and their characters - haunted him, their absence made it harder for him to survive his lonely existence.

Will had told him over the years that if only he would put himself out there, if only he would come out of his shell and interact, even if it was to simply make a friend, he would feel much better. But he never felt inclined to; he felt like he was supposed to be miserable. He was used to this feeling, and somehow, letting go of it seems unfathomable.

He snapped himself from where his thoughts drifted to, his gaze refocusing on what was in front of him. And the moment his vision became clear, the first thing he saw was the same head of blonde hair from his dreams, disappearing around the corner. He blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He stood immediately, squinting at the lane where he caught the glimpse of the blonde - hair the exact shade of spun gold as from his dreams. His bag and notebook forgotten, he took off in her direction.

For so long, he had been struggling with thoughts that maybe his dreams were more than just that, but had dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as they had come. But something in his heart told him to follow the blonde, that maybe she might help - whether it was to break the illusion or to strengthen it, he wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the outcome to be either.

He went around the corner he had seen her turn, which led him down a tiny alley. The only place that seemed to be open was an antiquities shop, with a single flickering light on at the display window. Alice and her ‘round the world Wonders, the sign read.

“Alice…” he whispered softly to himself, his incredulity evident. “It can’t be.” He pushed through the door, the bell above the door ringing through the empty shop.

“Hello?” he called out, suddenly feeling a little breathless, as if in anticipation. He waited with bated breath, but no one turned up for a whole two minutes. Just as he was about to call out again, someone pushed past the curtains, stepping through.

Killian felt disappointment settle in his chest when he saw the woman who walked into the room. She was definitely blonde, but she was not the woman from his dreams, of that he was certain. All the built up anticipation of the past few minutes drained out of him. He simple stared at her unable to do much more than force a smile in return to her smiling at him. He was certain the woman he’d seen turn down the alley had been her, but it was not the woman from the shop.

She was dressed plain enough, but her heavy array of braids gave her an air of eccentricity; and as friendly and welcoming as she seemed to think her smile was, it made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up.

“Can I help you?” she asked him, approaching the counter.

As much as he wanted to bolt from this shop, and from this woman, he had a feeling she might have some answers for him. “Erm, no. I was simply looking around,” he replied after a long pause. He turned around, pretending to be interested in an old windmill, running his finger over the blades. “Curious name your shop’s got,” he commented. “Alice… is that you?” he asked, smiling and hoping that she wouldn’t suspect anything, before turning away.

He noticed her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on her face. “Ah, no. I knew an Alice, a very long time ago. The name just felt fitting.” She waited a beat before adding, “I’m Eloise. And you’re Killian Jones.”

Hackles raised, he turned to face her again, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “How do you know my name?”

He could have sworn he saw her smirk, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “I’m a huge fan of your books - the life of a pirate captain and all that.”

Killian was not entirely convinced by her answer, but he had no real reason to doubt her, save for an odd gut feeling. “I did not realise you’d recognise me.”

“Yes, you do look a bit different with the beard,” Eloise commented. “But not unrecognisable.”

Something in the way she phrased it made Killian feel like he was under sharp scrutiny. Whatever he was looking for, this Eloise seemed to have a whole other agenda, one he was not going to wait around and watch play out. “I should get going. But it was nice to meet you Eloise.” Killian started retreating, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I would be really happy if you took a token of appreciation. Your stories mean a lot to me, especially the Princess you write about.”

“The Swan Princess?” he asked, unable to help himself. He felt a strong tug in his chest when he said those words, as if it recognised who he was talking about. But that was impossible: the Swan Princess was just a character that he had made up.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he simply said,“I am really glad you like my work, lass. I appreciate it. But I must get going.”

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you long.” Eloise pulled a painting from under the counter, holding it out to Killian.

He stepped closer, looking at the painting of a ship in the middle of the ocean depicted in the calm before the storm. As mesmerising as the painting itself was, he was more concerned with the signature at the bottom - Alice.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Who is Alice?”

Eloise brows furrowed in concern at his harsh tone. “Mr. Jones, I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. But I simply wanted to give you this painting because it reminds me of your stories. As for Alice...well, she did make this. But I’m afraid she’s not with us anymore.”

Rationally, Killian knew that there was no way that the Alice Eloise spoke of was the girl from his dreams. But his heart clenched just hearing that. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, walking away from Eloise and her store, leaving the painting behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eloise’s startled expression slipped into a smirk. “Oh, I finally found you, Captain Hook,” she whispered. She flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and headed into the backroom again.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Do you really think it is a good idea to keep this from Alice?” Emma asked, biting her lip. “She might want to know - she was vying for this.”

“As much as I want to shout from the mountain tops how much I care about you, Emma - and it is a lot, believe you me, lass - I just do not want her to think this is more than it is.” When he saw Emma’s face fall, he wanted to kick himself for how he phrased it. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, love. I don’t want any kind of pressure on you, and if we tell Alice, she might think that we are-”

“So let her,” Emma said, cutting him off. She stepped up to him, her eyes meeting his determinedly. “There’s no pressure here, but I’m in this for the long haul, Killian Jones. If that scares you, well, I-” She huffed, losing steam. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel - and I will end up defeating you.”

Killian grinned widely at her, kissing her chastely. “Aye, I have no doubt you will, darling. I would gladly surrender to you, Your Highness.”

Emma flushed, slapping his arm lightly. “Are you ready to tell your daughter that she will soon be free?” Emma could swear that the smile that took over her pirate’s face rivaled even the bright rays of the sun.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

“Ms. Swan? I think I found the man that you have been looking for.” Emma sat up straight at that. While she had hoped utilizing Mr. Castle’s private investigation services would come to fruition, she had not realised it would be quite this soon. If she had realised how efficient this land’s resources were, she would have relied on them much earlier.

“Are you sure? Killian Jones?” she asked, starting to pace.

“Ms. Swan, Killian Jones is quite a famous writer. I am not unfamiliar with who he is.” Emma could almost hear his condescension. “But he is elusive and an extremely private person, so he was a bit harder to track down.”

“But you did, did you not? Track him down?” Emma asked, irritated by Castle dragging the issue.

“Of course, as I assured you. He’s in a small town in south-eastern England. He is coming back to the United States in three months for a book tour.”

Emma’s elation was unparalleled to anything else in the world. She clutched the ring hanging around her neck tight, as tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. Do you have an address?”

Once she had hung up on the call with Castle, she let a few tears fall - tears of joy, of course, but of sorrow as well. She had to bring him back to all the chaos and pain that he had left. She had to bring him back before she had the cure she’d promised him. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, an echo of pain and frustration running parallel to her own emotions. It had been twenty years, but she would never get used to this connection she had with Killian - a curse and a blessing all in one; her life was tied to his in many ways, and being able to sense his feelings was the cruelest of it all.

She could still remember so clearly the day they had parted, could feel the flow of the energy as he linked their lives together; she was unable to age, just like all Dark Ones. Because of him, her light magic was forever corrupted now. She hated him for that: she hated him for leaving her with all the pain and the memories, while he walked into another world, without her, without Alice, and without his memories. But she could never hate him more than she loved him. Emma touched the ring again, her heart settling as she remembered his promise to her - the promise of a happy future, no matter how long it took them to get there. She had made him a promise in turn - to find a way to cure him of the darkness that plagued his soul - and to not come for him before then.

Unfortunately, Gothel had a more sinister plot in mind. After two decades, she had managed to break free of her bonds. Emma had no choice to come for him before that wretched witch found him. Killian was not the only reason Emma had come, of course. There was another person she needed to save, but she knew she had to find Killian Jones first. He would be the only one who could get Alice back.

-/-

Eloise waved at the back wall of her store, sparks of dark magic expelling from her hand. The wall shimmered before disappearing completely, revealing an elaborate garden on the other side, with a glass coffin in the middle, covered in vines. She walked up to it, her hand running over the vines, watching as they retreated at her touch.

“Oh, Alice, dear. You’ve been resting for quite a while, haven’t you?” she whispered, not a hint of remorse in her voice. She stared down at the slumbering girl, looking child-like and peaceful in her spell-struck state. “I just can’t have you meddling in my plans, dear. Your father can’t be compromised, not until I can get my hand on his dagger.”

[sieben9]

“only you”/“an untold story” impressions

{Quick request to anyone reading: I’m watching OUaT for the first time, and I want to avoid spoilers. So, if you want to discuss something spoilery, I’d be grateful if you could start a new post for that. Thank you!}

Yes, both in one post. Mostly because I watched them in one go. And because they’re really just one long story, anyways.

please feel free to insert your own episode-relevant pun here

Before I get into anything else: NO MORE UNDERWORLD LIGHTING! I’d almost forgotten how much that stupid red filter bothered me, until I didn’t have to stare at it while going through my screenshots. Dobby is freeeee~

Anyways, to my intense surprise, especially after the mess that was “Last Rites”, I really liked this finale! Not as a season-finale, because it wasn’t, but it was a very solid, fun two-parter that feels like it should have aired halfway through the hiatus between seasons. (I have Opinions™ on the “season finale followed by a mostly-unrelated epilogue/setup for the next season” format, and not one of them is positive.) The setup for the next season did get me cautiously excited, though. Not quite the “holy crap, I have to watch that!” of the s4 finale, but still good.

Just for clarity’s sake: I will be referring to this two-parter as one episode, just for ease of conversation. I have not slept this weekend, and I refuse to juggle grammar.

OK, just so I have it out of my system:

Gay roadtrip!

“i know we spent the last ten episodes getting my boyfriend back from the dead, but there isn’t room for four in the bug, so bye!” — emma swan, apparently

My joyful little shipper heart aside, the Emma/Regina bits in this episode were just fantastic. From their little heart-to-heart about Regina missing Robin (and Emma actually properly empathising this time) to the oddly even more personal topic of Regina’s constant battle with her “evil” side, it was all that I might have wanted and more.

The scene also left me with a weird feeling, because on the one hand, sure, it’s hard to constantly have to censor a part of yourself in order to be accepted in the company of the people you love (and who love you), but on the other hand… if that part of yourself has “kill it with fire” as the first response to any and all annoyances, maybe, just maybe, that’s something that you should censor. That said, Regina, you should definitely make an appointment with Archie. That sounds like his cup of preferred beverage.

And now to maybe my least favourite part of the episode, so we get it over with… the actual “main” plot. Or the excuse plot, as I will call it, because, really, the whole “Henry destroys magic” thing never really felt like a credible threat. It was more something to get everyone into motion so they could do the actually interesting stuff.

Don’t get me wrong, Henry snapping after losing yet another person—even by proxy through his mother—is perfectly understandable and realistic. That he’d turn his anger on magic as a whole isn’t exactly out of left field, either. He’s done this before, after all. At least this time, he didn’t try to blow up the magic well. I like that well, recent drama notwithstanding.

instead, we get the reverse-cornucopia of magic, apparently

But the plotline itself seemed far too rushed and low-energy to really grab my attention. And the resolution was… ::sigh:: there’s a dilemma for me, here, because I unabashedly love cheesy “The Power Is In You” moments, and the scene at the well did hit that button. It just felt unearned, which is why I couldn’t really enjoy it. (Also, I don’t know what New Yorkers are like, but I know how people from around here would have reacted to a performance act like that. Ah, well. Never Mind All That.)

the real magic was convincing so many people to throw away their spare change

I don’t even know what to say about the Dragon cameo. Nice to see he’s not dead, after all, but everything else in that scene... Nick, if you’d be so kind?

OK, that’s over with. Luke-warm excuse plot with some nice elements to it. I’m not sure if Violet needed to be in this, but I guess Henry needed someone to talk to.

Just as a pick-me-up, I want to give a shoutout to one of the best-executed bits of comedy on this show so far:

“Guy on the third floor is involved in some kind of satanistic ritual and dumped his food on the floor. Pretty polite and tips well, though. 8/10”

Just… very good performance and comedic timing on both parts. I liked it.

Aaaaand over to the “they got sucked through a portal. Again.” part of the episode.

ah, zeppelins; the easiest shorthand for “alternate universe” there ever was

I do kind of like the sound of the Land of Untold Stories and I really, really hope this gets a little more fleshed out in the coming season. How do people end up there when they’re not sucked through Yet Another Portal Accident? Is this what happens to all stories that haven’t been written down by an Author, yet? Is Harry Potter in there somewhere?

So many questions, so little screentime… I’m not sure if I would have liked 8 episodes of stumbling around in this new world, but I would have liked to find out if I did. …listen, it made sense in my head.

This plotline included what is probably my biggest complaint about the writing this episode: Snow selling out Belle. Just… with little to no hesitation. Which is why blaming the writing and not her. If this was supposed to be some kind of big, dramatic moral dilemma, I expect we’d have seen at least some semblance of guilt on her part. Instead, she just told this clearly violent individual about the defenceless, sleeping-cursed pregnant woman within nanoseconds of him threatening Hook. I know Snow’s characterisation has been a bit inconsistent recently, but come on. This isn’t her, and I am disappointed that the show even tried to sell this to me.

And I think I would have believed the version where Snow just blurts out the information about Belle and later feels awful, because holy crap, how could she? (There’s… some precedent for poor judgment on Snow’s part when it comes to sharing information, after all.) But this wasn’t even a Thing for her. I just… ::frustrated noises:: why, show?

So, yeah, the Bad Guy kidnaps Belle. Well done, there. By the way, wasn’t it incredibly difficult at some point to make portals to the Land Without Magic? I get why portalling to Storybrooke would be easier—it’s got magic, after all. But hotel room 318, New York? I guess you could argue that the crystal brought the magic along, but still.

i giggled at this bit, i’m afraid. fellow cat owners will understand.

So, I’m not sure what the “intended” reading here is, but I find it interesting that Rumple seems to understand himself so much less than Hyde apparently does (prediction: they totally know each other; mostly because Rumple knows everyone—guy gets around…) So he went to protect the magic crystal, because what else would the thundering teleport-vortex of doom have come to steal? As has been noted before, Rumple doesn’t really go after people through their loved ones, with one very recent exception, and he had to ask his dad for help to come up with that one. The idea that someone would kidnap Belle to get whatever the hell they want from him, doesn’t seem to occur, even though it has happened multiple times, already. Just… maybe you should have kept that box in your coat pocket, my friend.

Yeah… this is sure going to be fun, I can already tell. What does Hyde want with Storybrooke, anyway? It’s been established that it has one of the least-fun-to-rule populations, and everyone and their dog has magic. Seems like a bad pick, overall.

You do you, though.

And from Jekyll and Hyde, we finally come to this…

that still looks so very unpleasant.

I’m… ambivalent about the personality split, and I really want to wait and see how it turns out. Clearly, this is a good way to have the Evil Queen around again without also having to sacrifice Regina’s redemption arc, which I’m grateful for, believe me. It’s bad enough to have one of my faves on a redemption-yoyo—no need to add a second one.

is it bad that i missed her?

OK, look I’ve seen this Star Trek episode. Ten bucks that it turns out the Evil Queen isn’t “just” Regina’s evil side, she also got many of her more forceful, but overall positive character traits, and both are less without the other, leading to them re-fusing or something. (Yes, wrong fandom. So sue me.)

…obviously, I’m willing to be surprised, but I like this version a lot more than the idea that you can just siphon out the “evil” parts of yourself. (Even Hyde wasn’t really Jekyll’s “evil” side—just the collection of his socially unacceptable traits made flesh. I only read an abridged version of that book, and that a while ago, but Jekyll still seemed like a bit of an ass to me.)

While we’re here: shoutout to Snow and her flask of cocoa-fortifier. That got a surprised (and amused) laugh out of me.

Also, do we want to talk about whether or not it’s healthy to be so at odds with a part of yourself that you think killing it is the best way to deal with it or…? ‘cause, honestly, I would like to talk about that. Seems like Regina is a lot less OK than she’d like others and herself to think…

yeah, that’s not a “finally i’m free!” face

So, cautiously optimistic about s6 so far. The villains definitely seem interesting, and this episode was a good reminder of what I liked about the character dynamic in the first place.

An addendum about 5B:

Goddamn, but this season dragged. There seems to be simultaneously too much plot for too little time and not enough plot to fill ten episodes. This is probably based in my personal biases for and against certain characters (and the fact that I was insanely busy and couldn’t watch the season all in one go), but… yeah, I’m kind of relieved it’s over, to be honest.

[earisridesagain]

Star Wars Misfit

I find it very hard to be a SW fan. I never did the full SW fandom thing when I was a kid and all we had was the OT and a bunch of books.  Part of that was that the fandom seemed to revolve around stuff you had to buy - toys, games, aforementioned books.  The library didn’t carry all the books.  My parents were not going to shell out $$$ for lego sets and action figures.  And I have never played video games. I basically sat in my corner, loved the movies, and wrote out some essays on my thoughts about the SW Universe.  I wish I had kept some of them.

Then, there was the PT and the internet and I got into fanworks.  And that was great.  I wasn’t a huge fan of the PT, but the world-building, and resultant fanfic, was superb. I wore a Jedi padawan braid for at least half of high school.  But the fandom at large still seemed to revolve around buying things and knowing bits of information and arcs from a series of books that I frankly didn’t care very much for.  Some of the books were great, but a lot of them . . . were not very good at all.  I am not judging people who like them.  Fuck, I read absolutely anything that has Tolkien on it.  I’m in no position to judge anybody.  I still don’t play video games.  I have 2 Funko Pops.  At first, the internet based fanworks were more my jam.  Fanfiction, videos, hilarious comics (he killed the yuenglings!).  But no matter how I tried to be happy in SW fannish spaces, it all came back to arguing about trivia and people being 100% possessive of the source text and gatekeeping like a mother fucker.  Any appreciation for the PT made you NOT a ‘real’ SW fan.  And let’s not get into the sexism. Part of my dislike of the Slave!Leia outfit stems from the fact that most of the straight male SW fans I knew made that their primary appreciation of my favorite character.  I know it’s more complex than that, but when a 14 year old girl is told and shown over and over that Leia’s legacy is being a sex symbol, it fucking hurts. (Long live the Huttslayer).

Clone Wars began to get me back into SW fandom at large.  CW was great.  It was fun and sad and mythic and silly.  It was romantic and touching, it gave us great world building, awesome action sequences, great new characters, fleshed out old characters, and made me rethink me dislike for some of the PT.  And the fandom was lovely!  So many smart people writing snark and slash and het and comedy and making drawing great fanart and comics and it felt so right.  Rebels followed in that vein.

The came the ST.  TFA kicked my latent SW obsession into high gear.  I loved the new characters, especially Rey, and Finn, and Poe, and Kylo Ren.  The world got bigger.  New books started to be published, from authors I actually enjoyed reading.  (Shoutout to Claudia Grey and Christie Golden and E.K. Johnston and Jason Fry and everyone in the FACPOV collections).  I still wasn’t ready to get big into the fan-spaces, but I did start reading some fanworks, mostly StormPilot.  And also, Reylo.  As my journey in SW grew, I found myself drawn more and more to Reylo.  It was hilarious.  I’d never had a het!ship before.  And the Reylos I knew were talented, and smart, and lovely, and never made me feel bad for not knowing something or having a weird idea.

But people HATED Reylos.  I genuinely don’t know why.  And don’t give me that ‘the pairing is problematic’ bullshit.  That ship is fucking tame.  I’ve obsessively shipped way worse pairings.  It’s fanfiction - not reality. The pairing is rich and meaningful, it has deep parallels in folktales and myth, it encapsulates many of the themes of SW.  Oh yeah, and I happen to find it fucking hot.

People also hate the ST.  I agree, it has its problems (the biggest of which is TROS). But the PT is no gem of filmaking. TPM breaks in the middle for a fucking video game ad that sucks all the air out of the room.  AOTC is tragically paced.  And ROTS (far and away the best) feels like the culmination of a very different trilogy.  Even the OT has flaws.  There is nothing wrong being critical of something.  But some people can’t see a picture of Kelly Marie Tran without launching into a tirade about how much they hate Rose.  Rey, Finn, and Poe are there for representation, and Kylo Ren is the worst villain ever.  I have very little time for people who feel that Luke’s journey in TLJ is some sort of slap in the face of the character (Luke faces his guilt and regret and ends up saving the day just like Obi Wan Kenobi and Kanan Jarrus and all the other Jedi who have chosen defense over aggression and laid down their lives for others.) The vitriol astounds me. 

Once again, I was a SW misfit. The people that I loved in the CW world ragged on the people I loved in the Reylo world.  The rabid OT fanboys can’t see a picture of Rey without yelling Mary Sue. People keep chanting about wiping out the ST, as if there aren’t people who fucking love it and it’s got CARRIE FUCKING FISHER’S LAST PERFORMANCE AS LEIA ORGANA. PT fans who loved Anakin and Padme turn around and abuse ST fans who love Reylo.  Mandalorian fans have started to try and out-Easter Egg each other, and dump on people who are watching for story.  We’re back to gatekeeping and people lunging at each other’s throats about little bits of information and trivia. 

So, why did I write all of this?  I just needed to get it off my chest.  I like being in SW fan spaces, especially Reylo and CW and Rebels spaces.  I love the novels.  I love the music.  I love the concept art and the fan art and the fan fiction and the comics (well, some of them) and people making reaction videos to the Mandalorian.  But, once again, I’m sitting in a corner, afraid to speak up.  

I guess I’m not a real fan.

[dani-ellie03]

Fic: Wednesday’s Child (19/?)

Title: Wednesday’s Child Summary: The next time Emma Swan wanted magical help, she was on her own. Because now they were stuck with a pint-sized savior who clearly had an attitude problem and a terrified but pretending not to be pre-pirate. Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good. Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Family angst/fluff, as per usual. Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just borrowing them but I’ll put them back when I’m finished! Author’s Note: Shoutout to @fezfanatic and @stark-park, for reasons. ;) Also,  please have your toothbrush handy because wow, this is sugary. Oops? O:)

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{1} {2} {3} {4} {5} {6} {7} {8} {9} {10} {11} {12} {13} {14} {15} {16} {17} {18}

At ff.net and below.

Tagging @shealivedarnit (If anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know!)

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Since Killian and Henry were having fun playing Super Mario Kart and Emma was perfectly content cuddled up between her parents with her baby brother on her lap, Snow saw no reason to break up the little party. A tiny voice that seemed to come from the elementary school teacher side of her tried to insist that the children should not have been spending so much time in front of the television. However, the bright grin on Killian's face and the amusement and pride in Emma's eyes as she watched Killian start to actually give Henry a run for his money silenced that voice. Besides, if this truly was the children's last night as children, they should spend it doing something they enjoyed.

"You could race, too, if you want, Emma," Charming reminded her after a long beat of silence. "You don't have to stay up here with us and Neal."

"Nah, that's okay. I like watching the boys race." She looked up at Charming somewhat shyly. "And I like sitting up here with you guys and Neal."

Snow's heart practically lifted straight out of her chest. The amount of progress they'd made with their little girl in such a short time was nothing short of a miracle. Could Emma have somehow unconsciously understood that she belonged here? That she was finally with people who loved her with all they had? The day before and even this morning, she kept saying they were different. She must have felt the effects of their love and attention, the love and attention she'd craved her entire life and had never received.

"We like sitting up here with you, too, kiddo," Charming assured her with a touched smile. Then he swiped the tip of his index finger down her nose, making her giggle.

Seven o'clock came far too soon for Snow's tastes. A large part of her wished she could stay on the couch with her husband and babies until morning but the more responsible part of her knew that if Neal was to go down without a fight, she needed to start him on his bedtime routine now. "All right, little prince, it's night-night time," she murmured as she extended her arms to take the baby from his sister's lap.

Neal let out a rather displeased whine, drawing surprised looks from the rest of the family. The baby's insistence startled the boys so much that both their pixelated racers fell off the track.

Well, then. There went trying to get him down without a fight. Having so many people to play with didn't help; the poor baby clearly didn't want to miss any of the fun.

That being said, it was indeed his bedtime so Snow lifted him off Emma's lap despite his fussing. "Shh, you'll see everyone in the morning. Everyone say good night."

"Good night!" came the chorus of soothing voices, all attempting to calm the baby.

As Snow headed out of the room with Neal on her hip, he stretched his hand out to Emma. At once, big sister responded to her baby brother's call, pushing herself from the sofa and sidling up to Snow. "I could help you get him in his crib for the night, if that's okay."

It was more than okay. In fact, it was the most perfect thing Snow could imagine. "Of course it's okay, sweetheart. Thank you very much."

"Yes, and while you two settle the little guy," Charming added as he stood up as well, "Henry, Killian, and I can clean up down here and get everything set up for movie night. We can pop the popcorn and pile the bed with blankets so we'll be good to go once the little prince is down."

Snow sent her wonderful husband a bright smile. Splitting the tasks would certainly help a great deal. "That works for me," she agreed, her smile growing when Emma nodded beside her.

"Works for us, too," Henry said after exchanging a glance with Killian and receiving a nod in response to his silent question.

"I just have one question," Killian spoke up.

"What is it?" Charming asked.

"What's a movie?"

They all exchanged an amused grin. "Something you've got to see to believe," Emma chuckled.

With the family's plans now settled, Snow carried Neal up the stairs with Emma one step ahead of her. As soon as Neal realized that Emma was coming, too, he'd stopped fussing. That didn't mean, however, that he was suddenly happy that bedtime had rolled around. The second his crib came into view, he started to whine again.

Snow jiggled him in her arms in an effort to settle him but before any words of comfort could come out of her mouth, Emma addressed her baby brother. "It's okay, Neal. We're going to change you into your PJs and read a story and it's going to be so much fun." Belatedly, she looked up at Snow to make sure she'd gotten the baby's bedtime routine correct.

"That's exactly right, Neal," Snow replied with a wink to her little girl, who let out a soft breath of relief. "We're going to have a ball."

For such a young child, Emma was a fantastic help getting Neal ready for bed. She picked out a pair of pajamas for him and brought over a fresh diaper and the container of wipes without Snow having to ask her. While Snow changed Neal, Emma crouched in front of the little bookshelf to pick out a book to read. Somehow, Snow wasn't surprised when Emma finally decided on Goodnight Moon.

"You do more than just play with the babies at your group homes, don't you," she said softly.

It wasn't a question but Emma nodded anyway. "I don't have to do the bedtime stuff at the good homes but some of the bad ones … I try to take care of the babies and the little kids. Nobody should just be put in bed and left in the dark but especially not the little kids."

A telltale tickling rose in the back of Snow's throat and she coughed to ease it. No, she was not going to cry. She was not going to imagine her little girl – her sweet, wonderful little girl – alone in the dark. She was not going to imagine her little girl with no one to comfort her after she awoke crying from a nightmare. She was not going to imagine her little girl putting herself to bed and feeling utterly alone.

Instead, she focused on the little girl in front of her, the girl who, at ten years old, tried so hard to make sure no other child felt as alone as she had felt. "You're an amazing little girl, Emma Swan."

A teary-eyed Emma ran up to her mother and threw her arms around her waist. In an instant, Snow dropped to her knees so she could properly hug her little girl while also holding her baby boy. "I'm so glad I'm here," Emma whispered into her ear.

"I'm so glad you're here, too, sweetheart. We all are."

Neal chose that exact moment to let out a happy babble, making both mother and daughter laugh. "See?" Snow teased, sniffling back the tears of joy. "Neal agrees."

Emma held the hug a beat longer and then pulled away, wiping her eyes. "All right, squirt, I get it. Now let's read a bedtime story, huh?"

After settling the baby in his crib, Snow eased down on the rocking chair with Emma at her feet. She read Goodnight Moon to both her babies while once again thinking that this was how it should have been all their lives.

It took one and a half runs through Goodnight Moon for Neal to finally close his eyes. After Snow let her voice trail off, she and Emma waited a couple of minutes before pushing themselves to their feet. "Good night, little prince," Snow whispered before pressing a kiss to her fingertips, which she then ghosted across her baby boy's little forehead.

"Good night, squirt," Emma added, her voice the same whisper as Snow's. "See you in the morning."

Snow switched on the baby monitor, picked up the receiver, and walked her little girl out of the room, leaving the door open a crack.

By the time she and Emma entered the master bedroom, the boys had gotten everything ready. On the dresser sat two large bowls of freshly made popcorn gleaming with melted butter. They'd poured glasses of water for everyone, the better to quench the thirst created by the salty popcorn. The bed was piled with some of the blankets used in the fort, which Charming assured her had been dismantled and the rest of linens used in its construction put away.

"I'm bummed about that, by the way," Killian interjected, using a word Henry had clearly taught him and making the adults chuckle.

Wilby had even settled on one of the blankets while patiently awaiting Emma's return. The only things left to do were choose a movie and get comfortable.

The movie choice mostly came down to Emma. Henry was fine with whatever the kids wanted and Killian obviously didn't know any of them. When Emma seemed to have trouble deciding between Mary Poppins and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, Charming told her to pick both of them.

"Both? Really?"

The excitement on her little face melted her parents' shared heart. "Of course, kiddo," Charming assured her. "I think a movie night this big calls for more than one movie, don't you?"

"I definitely do," she grinned.

"I still don't know what a movie is," Killian reminded everyone. He'd slid Honey, I Shrunk the Kids from Emma's hand and read the synopsis on the back of the sleeve. "I take it it's a story of some kind?"

"It's kind of like a play," Snow explained. Hopefully her own experiences in both worlds would help her to explain the concept of a motion picture to a little boy from the Enchanted Forest. "It's a story being acted out by real people but they're not going to be right in front of us like they would be at a play. They're going to be on the television."

The poor boy still looked a little confused but he nodded anyway. "Thank you."

Something told Snow that the boy would have many more questions before the night was over, especially once they got to "Jolly Holiday" in Mary Poppins.

With the movies chosen and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids in the VCR, the family all piled onto the bed. Snow and Charming climbed under the covers and were surprised when both Emma and Killian settled on top of the covers in between them. Hiding a grin, Henry handed each child a blanket, a pillow to prop up against the headboard with the adults, and a bowl of popcorn before lying down the long way at their feet. After everyone had settled, Wilby made himself comfortable in the empty space between the children's feet and Henry's back.

Thank heavens she and Charming had sprung for the king bed!

As the movie started, Snow made a point of watching Killian out of the corner of her eye. The sheer wonder on the boy's face struck her as utterly adorable. It was clear he was bursting with questions, not only about the mechanics of how the movie was playing on the television but also all the technology in the movie (outdated though it now may have been) but he was also drawn in by the story and didn't want to break the flow by asking his questions.

He finally broke his self-imposed silence with a gasp when the titular kids shrank. "I understand that this is just a story and those people are simply portraying the characters in the story but how did the people who made the story make the actors that little?"

Henry turned around and gave him a comforting smile. "They're not really little. It's a trick. They built really big pieces of furniture and other really big things to make the kids look really little. Kind of like how if Neal held something, it would look really big but if you held the same thing, it would look smaller."

"Perspective," the boy nodded. "It looks so real, though."

"That's what makes it a trick."

Emma didn't say a word but tucked herself further into Snow's side. A touched Snow wrapped her arm around Emma's shoulders and the bright smile that lit the little girl's face indicated how pleased she was with this entire evening.

Once again, everyone settled down and the rest of the movie played in silence. Towards the end, Snow felt more than saw poor Emma fighting a losing battle with sleep. Smiling, she tightened her arm around her little girl's shoulders, inviting her to snuggle even closer. Her little girl did so and finally let herself relax.

When the movie was over, Snow turned her head to ask the rest of the family if they wanted to put in Mary Poppins only to realize that she'd lost Killian and Charming, too. Even Wilby was out like a light.

Henry must have expected conversation to kick up as the credits rolled because he turned around at the absence of voices. The grin that split his face warmed Snow's already full heart. "I guess one movie was enough."

"Yes, I guess so," Snow chuckled.

Henry slid off the bed, stopped the tape, hit rewind, and switched off the television. After gathering the empty glasses, he slipped the popcorn bowls off the children's laps. "Do you want me to help you move them?"

Snow's heart skipped a beat. No, she didn't want Henry to help her move them. She didn't want to move them at all. If this was the last night she had with them, she wanted them as close as possible, Emma's bed hog tendencies and all. "No, thank you," she said with a smile. "They can stay right here tonight."

Henry returned her smile and nodded in understanding. Once he'd packed up the detritus of movie night, he leaned in for a good night kiss. "Night, Gramma."

"Good night, Henry," she said, dropping a soft kiss on his cheek. "See you in the morning. Thank you for cleaning up tonight and for being so wonderful about their little accident the past couple of days."

"You're welcome. They're really fun and I'm glad we can help them while they're little."

Gods, Snow had the best family.

And now it was time to tuck the rest of that family in. She slid the pillows behind Emma and Killian flat, made sure the blankets were properly covering them, and then ensured Charming was snug and warm as well. Starting with Charming, she gave each of her sleeping family members a good night kiss. "Good night, my darlings. I love you."

And maybe it was just her imagination but she could have sworn all three of her family members smiled in their sleep, giving her their own unconscious good nights.

-----

Chapter Twenty

[orrangepoem]

imaginary friend // h.s

author’s note: A quick shoutout to @iloveyouhaz because I submitted a part of this story to her and she was kind enough to read it and give me feedback! Hope y’all enjoy! P.S: I had the song ‘Sick of Losing Soulmates’ by Dodie Clark on repeat while writing this, so give it a listen while you read! You can find it here.

w.c: 2k

summary: Harry has an imaginary friend called Y/N

Even as a child, Harry was introverted. While the other children his age would be out and about playing, he preferred to stay in the comfort of his bedroom, spending time with his imaginary friend Y/N.

Now Y/N wasn’t your usual imaginary friend. She wasn’t some monster with purple skin, six eyes, and four arms. She was just a girl. Hair and skin that looked as soft as clouds, which Harry always longed to touch. He never did though, in fear that she would disappear. Her eyes and smile were the prettiest and brightest Harry had ever seen. She was fun, always had a story to tell, and never failed to make five-year-old Harry feel special. He made a promise to himself that he would do any and everything to make sure that the light in her never went out.

Y/N wasn’t always around, she just came and went. Harry never knew when or why it was going to happen, but he always wished that he could control it and that she would never leave.

He loved Y/N. Hell, he was in love with her. Which terrified him because she's imaginary. A part of Harry's brain, and if he wanted to at any moment, he could just force her out of his mind. But he didn't want her to go away. 

They would spend their childhood days reading to each other, or play pretending to be Wonder Woman and Superman. On occasion, Y/N would get on Harry's shoulders to try and reach the sweets his mum had hidden at the top of the pantry. Harry's favorite thing he and Y/N did was to climb out through his bedroom window, up the tree in his backyard, and make their way to the roof. The two would just sit in silence and look at the stars, there was never a need for conversation. Though he was young, Harry knew this is what he wanted forever, just him and Y/N. No worries or cares in the world. 

But then it was time. Y/N would fade away; every atom, every particle that was a part of her would dust away and join the stars. Though it broke Harry’s heart every time, he always knew she was going to come back.

However, things change. People grow up. Y/N stopped coming around as often as she used to. It was the day of Harry’s 15th birthday when the first change came. His mum had bought tickets to a Fleetwood Mac concert and Harry couldn’t be more excited. He had woken up earlier than usual, a soft orange glow peeked its way through his curtains and cast itself all around his room. He looked over to the other side of his bed expecting to see Y/N.

“I know the both of us are still clueless about how this whole thing works, but do you think you could come over a bit earlier than you usually do? If I’m still sleeping, you could just lay in my bed or something. You don’t have to of course, it was just an idea-”

“Harry, you’re babbling again.” Y/N let out a small chuckle and put her hand up to get him to stop talking. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The idea of waking up to Y/N excited Harry more than anything else. He had the perfect image in his head; her frame sprawled out onto his bed, hair fanned out onto his sheets, and her mouth open just slightly, releasing cute little snores.

But she was nowhere to be found. Even though it wasn’t for sure that she would be able to come early, Harry still held that little bit of hope in his heart.

When he went down for breakfast, Anne could sense something was wrong with her youngest child.

“You alright sweetheart? Did you not sleep well?” As instinct, she placed a caring hand on his forehead, making sure he didn’t have fever.

“It’s just-” Harry hesitated for a moment, he knew how his mother felt about Y/N.

“Y/N didn’t wake up with me this morning. We talked about it last night and I dunno...I suppose I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

Anne’s lips went into a straight line, not knowing what to say or think. She had always hoped Harry would grow out of Y/N but nevertheless, she knew how fond he was of her.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Maybe just went to the shops to get you a birthday gift. Why don’t you get some food in ‘ya then go up and get dressed, okay? I’ve got a big day for us planned.”

Harry and his mum made their way to London and spent the whole day out and about. The eventful day had distracted him from thinking about Y/N but she came back into mind when they walked into a small coffee shop. The smells of vanilla and cinnamon were soft, but very relaxing, just like Y/N.

--

Few hours later, and it was time for the concert. The seats weren’t great, but Harry didn’t dare complain. Halfway through the show, something told him to look up at the steel beams that supported the venue. His brows furrowed when he noticed something, a shadow, sitting up top. Was it a person?

The figure turned around and looked down at Harry, its bright eyes looked oddly familiar.

“No... can’t be.” Harry started laughing and grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey Y/N.” Harry whispered to himself and continued to enjoy the show.

--

“On top of steel beams? At a concert? Are you mad?” Harry was still laughing at the image in his head as he and Y/N lay on his bed talking about how great it was.

“I wanted to surprise you! I felt bad about this morning. I tried showing up but I just couldn’t. I wish we could figure out how this all worked.”

“Me too love.”

Then she faded.

Y/N didn’t show up the next day, which was a bit unusual, but Harry didn’t let it get to him. Next day, still no Y/N. And the day after that, and after that.

This went on for two weeks and Harry felt lost.

--

“Psst. H, wake up.”

Harry struggled to open his eyes and see what was happening. He rubbed at his eyes and let them adjust to the darkness so he could try and see who was talking to him.

“Y/N?! Wha- what? Where have you been?”

“What are you talking about? I just saw you yesterday remember? It was your birthday, the Fleetwood Mac concert…? How hard were you sleeping?” Though it was dark, he could still see Y/N smiling. She really didn’t know.

“Love, that was two weeks ago. I haven’t seen you since.” Y/N’s face quickly fell and he could see her light going out.

“Two we…no. Harry no, that can’t be right. How could I have been gone two weeks?”

“You’re asking the wrong person Y/N. I thought you left me, I’ve been feeling so miserable and lost without you.”

“Oh, Harry I’m so sorry. I would never leave you, you’re my best friend.”

Friend.

“We’ll figure this out okay? I promise. Go back to sleep H, I’ll be right here.” Y/N made her way under the sheets and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead that sent sparks all throughout his body.

--

This same pattern went on for the next year. Weeks would go by without her and she would turn up with no recollection of how much time had passed. It was difficult because Harry’s love for her grew more and more. He watched her grow into a woman, and she saw him grow into a man. He loved watching her mind grow and develop, she had always been extremely intelligent. She looked at the world in ways no one else and ever could, and it amazed Harry beyond belief.

Eventually, he never saw Y/N ever again. He kept wishing she would come back, but she never did. He didn’t know why or how. Did something happen to her? Is it possible for something to happen to imaginary friends? He tried making friends and having girlfriends but no one could give him that feeling that Y/N could. Harry felt like he could take on the world when he was with Y/N. The shell that he had always hid behind cracked and whittled away when she was around. He could have fun with her, with no fear of judgement.

--

The time had come for Harry to start university. He was nervous, but also excited, and hoped that starting a new chapter would help him get over Y/N.

“I can’t believe my little boy is all grown up.” Anne helped Harry unpack his last box in his dorm room, wiping away tears as she did so.

“C’mon mum, you’ve been crying all day! This is just London, I’m only a little ways away and you know I’ll be home all the time. Can’t stay away from your great cooking.”

Harry and his mum said their last goodbyes and he quickly got into his new bed and took a nap.

--

The first few weeks of university was going rather well and the stress of classes has kept him distracted from Y/N. However, he couldn’t always keep away from the thought of her. He couldn’t stay in the library too long because the smell of the books reminded him of how she used to read fairytales to him. The smell of spaghetti in the dining hall made him sick to his stomach; spaghetti was her favorite meal. Harry thought he was going to go insane when that new Wonder Woman move came out. It’s all anyone could talk about and merchandise for the movie was everywhere. He never saw Gal Gadot, he always saw Y/N.

One day on campus, Harry decided to walk around and let his mind explore. Two of his professors had cancelled class, and final exams were over, so it was okay for him to miss the others. The weather was quite nice as well, sun out and a slight breeze passing through Harry’s hair.

There’s some benches underneath a pair of trees outside by the main Art building. It’s where a lot of students go for some quiet study time and it has become one of Harry’s favorite places to be. He took a seat on one of the benches and put his headphones in his ears. He observed everyone walking to and from classes, either making conversation with friends or their head buried in their phone. He was about to rest his eyes for a moment when he saw this girl making her way to the Art building.

“It can’t be.” Harry’s heart started racing, his palms grew sweaty, and he took his headphones out of his ears.

“No. No it can’t be. She’s not real, she was just…imaginary.” He was whispering to himself and frantically running his hands through his hair. If anyone were watching him from afar, he probably looked like a mad man.

Oh no. She’s walking closer. What was he going to do? Should he talk to her?

“Y/N!” The name slipped from his mouth before he could even think any further. Saying her name again still gave him those same butterflies in his stomach. The girl stopped in her path and looked at Harry with raised eyebrows. Harry quickly stood from his spot and made his way towards her. Once he got close, he realized that it really was her. His Y/N. Her hair had grown longer, but it still looked as soft as ever. Her cheekbones were more defined, she was taller, (though still shorter than him) and she had…developed. Harry noticed- but tried not to stare too hard- that her chest had gotten bigger, hips grew wider. She looked like an absolute goddess.

And her eyes. They still held that light.

Harry quickly realized he had just been gawking at her with a goofy smile plastered on his face, and had not said a word.

“Sorry um, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever! You look so different, but somehow still the same. I never expected to see you at uni either, I know how you always felt about school and-”

Damn. Harry had been talking nonsense like he always did when he was nervous. He stopped to let Y/N get a word in but she wasn’t saying anything. She looked confused. Her lips were pursed and brows furrowed. She kept looking at Harry like a puzzle with missing pieces.

Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! 

READ PART TWO HERE!

[perfectlinnamonroll]

Just Between Us [Lin-Manuel x Reader]

Summary: Your friend has a brilliant idea how to fix your lack of date to the upcoming wedding.

Word count: 3184 (whaaat?!)

Warnings: cursing, some pretty harsh words directed at the reader, huge amounts of fluff

Author’s notes: Okay, so this my first imagine ever. And first fic in a long, long time. This idea just wouldn’t leave me alone, so I had to get it out. Shoutout to @fragmentofmymind for inspiring me to do this and proofreading the first half. I hope you guys enjoy it!! Just a warning - I’m not a native English speaker, so this might be a little awkward in some places. Sorry!

“Oh God”, you murmured, massaging your temples furiously. This was not happening. How the hell had you gotten yourself into this mess?

Oh, right. It was your goddamn cousin’s fault. As usual.

“Don’t worry”, Alice massaged your shoulder in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting. Right now it only added to your overall tension. “Just ask a friend or something. It’s not a big deal, is it?”

“Except I literally have no one to ask. Besides,” you added, flopping onto the bed dramatically, “who in the right mind would agree to go to a wedding with me?”

“Well, it’s free food.”

“You’re a real friend, Al.”

“You know you can count on me.”

You’d called Alice in for a brainstorming session, since the wedding was taking place in a week and you still haven’t solved the big pressing problem: your datelessness.

Usually it wouldn’t matter; you were used to going to parties alone. So far in your life you’ve been in three relationships – none of which lasted longer than two months. Your talent at attracting fuckboys and assholes was uncanny, to say the least. The point was, you could easily just attend the wedding by yourself.

Unfortunately, this was not an option, thanks to your jerk cousin, Corwin. He was two years younger than you and never had any trouble getting a date. His list of ex-lovers was probably even longer than the one in that Taylor Swift song. And, obviously, he had to be there when you were getting invited to the wedding, and had to make a sardonic remark about how there was no point in giving you a “plus one” invitation since you were sure to show up alone.

So, naturally, you decided to show him that he can go fuck himself and made a promise to yourself that no matter what, you were going to that wedding with a date.

Which brought you right to this moment: a week before the party, still very much single.

Right as you were about to say you should probably give up, Alice suddenly perked up and threw herself to the desk, opening your laptop.

“Wha-“

“Shh! I just had a brilliant idea. There’s this guy that-“

“Alice”, you whined. “We’ve talked about this, I’m not taking a random person-“

“Will you listen to me? Sophie met this great guy when she was working in that recording studio, and they’re still in contact. Claims that she’d throw herself at him if she was into men at all, which you know is the highest compliment any male can hope to receive. And I’ve actually met him once, he’s cute and seems nice, so what do you have to lose?”

“So you’re suggesting I ask this dude, who has no idea I exist, to go to a goddamn wedding with me and survive my family for several hours? With the only added benefit of free food and alcohol? There’s no way he’d agree.”

“Well, he’s online right now, and I’m asking him.”

“Alice!”

She turned away from the laptop to meet your eyes.

“No, really. Worst case scenario, he says no and we’re back to square one. Best case scenario, he says yes, you two go to the wedding, fall hopelessly in love and make out somewhere Corwin can see you, so he finally shuts up about your love life. Right?”

You considered it for a moment, then sighed.

“This is the worst plan ever.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

  And just like that, you found yourself in a coffee shop two blocks away from your apartment, fidgeting in your seat. To your surprise, the guy – named Lin – agreed to go with you without any hesitation whatsoever. So, you scheduled to meet for coffee the day before the wedding and get to know each other a bit, so the evening would hopefully be less of an awkward mess.

You’d agreed to meet at ten, but you woke up uncharacteristically early that morning and found yourself unable to focus on anything. Deciding that pacing around your bedroom in circles was useless, you arrived an hour early. Right now you were sipping your second coffee, watching patrons flutter in and out, and nervously eyeing the clock.

It was quarter before ten when the bell above the door ringed, announcing the arrival of a new guest. You looked at the guy curiously. Judging by the messy black hair and dark circles under his eyes, he was your tomorrow’s date. You did a little wave to get his attention and soon he was slipping into the seat opposite you with a wide smile on his face.

“Hi! I’m Lin, great to meet you! So I’ve been told that we’re deflating a jerk’s ego tomorrow?”

You introduced yourself, unable to keep your eyes off the man’s face. The photo Alice sent you did him no justice at all. His eyes, dark and solemn on the picture, were, in fact, rich brown and endlessly warm, and there were no words to describe the brightness of his megawatt smile.

You found out that Alice has briefly told him about the circumstances of the unfortunate wedding. Apparently, Lin was more than eager to knock your cousin down a few pegs. He insisted that you needed to exchange all kinds of information about yourself, so that your fake dating shtick would seem reasonably genuine.

“Well – we don’t have to tell them we’re dating at all”, you stammered. It was painfully clear that this guy was way out of your league.

Lin shook his head, looking appalled at the idea.

“This is a must”, he insisted. “Who am I to miss out on an opportunity to pretend-date a cute girl?”

You did your best to cover your blush with a long sip of your coffee.

“Okay, you go first”, you suggested. “What do you do?”

He started telling you about his temporary job as an English teacher, which payed the bills while he worked on writing his very own musical (which explained meeting Sophie at the studio). His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself constantly laughing at his stories. You began to understand what Alice meant when she mentioned his “easy charisma”.

“Okay, but that’s enough about me”, he said after a particularly funny story about a pop quiz on Shakespeare. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well”, you started, laughing nervously, “there’s not much to talk about. I work in an office downtown. A mind-numbingly boring job, just tons of paperwork and not much else.”

“Okay, so what’s the dream, then?”, he asked with a glint in his eyes.

That was a question you weren’t expecting. You looked down at your empty coffee cup and hesitated for a moment.

“It’s- it’s silly, really, but- I’ve always dreamed of being an author. Fantasy, sci-fi, children’s books, stuff like that. But I’ve never written anything I was really satisfied with, you know? Kept throwing most of it out. I suppose I should just stick to what I’m doing right now.”

Despite your best efforts, your eyes started to tear up a little. These traitors.

You suddenly felt something warm encircling your hand. Looking up in surprise, you noticed that Lin covered it with his. You blushed a little at the look in his eyes – endlessly soft and caring.

“You can’t just give up”, he said, seriousness ringing in his voice. “Everyone starts from somewhere. And throwing out your work is one of the worst offenses ever, trust me. Archive it, store it somewhere you’ll never have to look at it again, but never delete any of it. How else are you supposed to track your progress? And, honestly, I don’t believe you.”

“What do you mean-“

“Your writing. You mentioned it with such passion – I can’t believe this is just a temporary thing. You really want to do it, don’t you?”

“Well, I do – or at least I did, but-“

“Then do it”, he smiled. “If it helps, I’ll gladly read whatever you want me to – and maybe you could look at my writing, too? I need some honest feedback. Just between us writers?”

You looked at him – softly, fondly.

“Yeah. Just between us.”

  The conversation soon returned to more mundane stuff, and before you knew it, it was time to return home. You said your goodbyes and agreed to meet at your place the next day an hour before the wedding, to be able to get there without the need to rush.

You returned to your place, trying to focus on preparations for tomorrow – to no avail. Your mind kept wandering back to the man you just met. Oh, there was no denying he was cute, but that’s not what captured your attention the most. No, you kept replaying his words in your head instead. “Just between us writers.”

Honestly, you’ve all but given up on your writing at this point. No matter what you did, the ideas always felt stale, the words awkward, the characters flat. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to your favourites – Le Guin, Gaiman, Pratchett, Hobb – and feel discouraged by the juxtaposition. Beginning was relatively easy and you were quick to become excited with an idea, but the enthusiasm tended to dissipate in the blink of an eye, leaving you disheartened. Putting words together seemed easy when someone else was doing it; not so much when you were trying it yourself.

So, yeah, you’ve basically thrown the towel in at this point. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve written something that wasn’t a job e-mail. You didn’t even know why you’d mentioned it today, and why to Lin of all people. Was it because he was a writer too? Or just because his sincerity and openness caught you entirely off guard?

Strangely enough, his words of encouragement struck a chord with you. His passion for theatre, the energy with which he talked about his projects was contagious. It reminded you of high school and nights spent polishing the next chapter of your story. Back then, the distance between you and your idols was inspiring instead of terrifying. When had it changed?

  Next day you spent your whole afternoon in a daze, mindlessly preparing yourself for the party while still mulling over the things Lin had brought up yesterday. You were just putting the finishing touches on your makeup when a sharp knock on the door brought you back to reality.

You rushed to the entrance to find it was Lin, right on schedule. The sight of him momentarily struck you dumb. You were going to a wedding, so logically you knew he wouldn’t be sporting the jeans and sweater he sported in the café. Still, nothing could prepare you for his elegant dark grey suit, which he wore with casual confidence. How the hell did you score a man like this?

Fortunately, you managed not to miss a beat and smiled at him, inviting him inside. “Come in, I just need a couple more minutes and I’m ready to go.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not ready”, he said, taking in the sight of you. “I’m pretty sure you can’t improve on perfection.”

“Stop it”, you laughed to hide your embarrassment.

“I’m serious. Here I was, thinking we’ll be keeping a low profile during this, and it’s gonna be impossible when you threaten to outshine the bride.”

You couldn’t do anything to stop the furious blush coming to your cheeks.

“Well, I-“ Damn, what was it about this man that made you so incoherent? “It’s gonna take just a moment. Um, make yourself at home?”, you said quickly before returning to the bathroom.

You leaned on the sink, breathing deeply, and trying to contain yourself. It was just some casual flirting, right? Nothing you couldn’t handle. He was probably doing it just to be polite and ease the tension.  You weren’t going to get your hopes up. One night and you’d probably never see each other again. You were fine with it.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You left the bathroom a minute later, finally ready to go. Exiting, you noticed Lin standing before your bookshelf, looking curiously at the titles.

“Never seen such a collection belonging to someone who didn’t write”, he commented out loud, smirking in your direction. “You should stop lying to yourself about it. This is meant to be.”

“There are tons of people who enjoy reading but don’t or can’t write”, you reminded him.

Lin shook his head.

“Alright, not gonna argue with a pretty girl just before a date. Shall we go?”

He offered you his arm. You gladly took it.

You’d failed to notice he called the evening a date.

  The wedding part of the whole affair went by in a blur. You had to admit that the venue was lovely. The ceremony took place under a blooming apple tree in a vast garden. It was lucky, since you knew how long waiting lists for wedding sites could be. One week later and the flowers could have been long gone.

The bride, a distant relative of yours whose name you barely remembered (Kate? Karen?), looked rather nice, even though her gown was enormous. What was with people and those huge puffy dresses? You couldn’t remember one woman who pulled it off successfully. Except maybe Beyoncé, but that’s because she was, well, Beyoncé.

The vows were exchanged, which gave you an opportunity to hear newlyweds’ names again (Kate and Nathan, you noted, even though you would probably forget them in a moment), and then you were quickly ushered to a spacious hall. The bride must have been insistent on inviting literally everyone from her side of the family, since you were seeing a lot of vaguely familiar faces you remembered from other gatherings.

Thankfully, introducing Lin to your parents was rather painless, since they were preoccupied with meeting aunt Bertha and other relatives. With a promise that you’d be there later for a longer talk, you exchanged simple pleasantries and went to find your seats at the tables.

The official part of the wedding elapsed quickly. As soon as the music started, Lin smiled at you and asked you for a dance. You’ve just managed to approach the dance floor when you heard a voice that gave you the creeps.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Y/N!”, said Corwin in a mocking tone, walking towards you. “So you did manage to leave your house for once? Won’t your books miss you?”

You did your best to cover your annoyance with a saccharine smile. “Hello, cousin. Could you be so kind and introduce us to your partner?” You nodded at the woman beside him. “I can’t keep track of them, you show up with a new one every party.”

“This is Frances”, he said unperturbed, gesturing to his partner. You couldn’t deny she was attractive: the kind of woman who made you feel insecure by simply existing. Her blue eyes seemed vacant, though, and her smile was definitely forced. You wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be just as vapid as most of Corwin’s dates.

Still, you couldn’t judge her merely by virtue of dating your cousin. You did your best to make your expression friendly when you said hello and introduced yourself and Lin. Corwin appraised him with a smirk.

“Wow. Someone actually agreed to show up with you in public. And he’s a step above the pansies you brought earlier, too. Did she blackmail or pay you?”, he smirked at Lin.

You were used to your asshole cousin’s remarks, but it still hurt to hear that. You knew that you two led very different lives, but it didn’t seem like a good enough reason to put you down. You took a deep breath, trying your best to keep a smile on your face. You were just about to politely tell him to stuff it, when Lin put his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“I don’t know what you mean, man.” You’ve met Lin yesterday, but it was clear to you that he was faking a cheerful tone. “She wasn’t easy to get, but I intend to keep her.”

Corwin outright laughed.

“Hard to get? Her? I don’t know she did to get you to act all adoring like that, but everyone can tell it’s a sham. I wouldn’t go with her even if she offered to spread her legs for me, that freakish prude is just not worth it.”

You could feel your smile fading from your face. Yep, he had to go there. That was it. He was about to get slapped right where he stood. But before you could do anything, Lin put his hand on your cheek, gently turning your head towards him. He looked at you with determination.

And then he kissed you.

Your brain short-circuited for a moment. That was not at all what you were expecting, and you definitely hadn’t discussed that possibility earlier. But you found that you didn’t really want to protest. You closed your eyes, melted into Lin’s embrace and let yourself enjoy the moment.

The kiss was gentle and sweet and ended far too early to your liking. You opened your eyes with reluctance and were immediately rewarded with a clear view of Lin’s face: soft and smiling. You quickly catalogued the memory. Definitely didn’t want to forget that, ever.

And you were right to do so, because a heartbeat later his eyes shifted to harsh as he turned towards Corwin. “You talk about my girlfriend like that again and I swear you will need to be carried out of this place”, he spat. “Let’s go, cariño. I hope the rest of your family isn’t as insolent as this jackass.”

You caught a glimpse of your baffled cousin as you left, walking away from the party and towards the little deserted balcony. Lin hadn’t let go of your hand that entire time.

Saying you were confused would be an understatement. Your head kept spinning and your lips still tingled a little from the sudden kiss.

As soon as you found yourself away from the other guests, Lin turned to you.

“Look, I’m so sorry”, he began to apologize. “I just didn’t expect this guy to be such an asshole, and I tend to act impulsively when I’m angry. I know I should’ve asked you first, and this doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, and-“

“Lin”, you interrupted him, looking him in the eye. He closed his mouth immediately. “It’s okay. Honestly. I was just a little surprised, that’s all. It was priceless to see Corwin finally shut up. And, just between us”, you said in a moment of courage, “I definitely don’t regret that.”

“…You don’t?”, Lin asked softly.

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Thank God”, he smiled widely. “Because I can’t say I wouldn’t want to do that again.”

He leaned towards you, stopping just shy of your lips. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to”, he whispered.

“I know”, you answered and smiled before kissing him.

[thesoujishow]

S01E02 - Raimei Tsubusu

[vaporwave lo-fi song]

Souji: Testing? Hello?

Raimei: WUUUUSSSSHHGFGSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS...SSHAAAAAAAA....

Souji: Ok. There we go.

[INTRO - glitchy transition music]

Souji: Hello, and welcome to the Souji Show. I'm Souji and this is a show where I talk about anything I want. 'Cause this is my show, and not yours.

Souji: This episode is sponsored by WcDonalds! WcDonald’s wants to remind you that the most important meal of the day is breakfast. [ominously] So why would you let a morning go by without staring deeply into the mirror until you no longer recognize the face staring back at you – mimicking your every gesture, mocking your every movement?

Souji: [confused + ominous] How else will you get the energy you need for a full day’s work or recreation if you aren’t silently screaming into the visage of a person who gives you such uneasy spirit, such unshakable terror, a queasy feeling every time you make the connection between what that thing is and what you are becoming? What you have become? Where does the void end? Where do you end? When do you end? What time is it now? You’ve been crying, but for how long?

Souji: [cheerful] WcDonald’s! I’m lovin’ it.

[MAIN - glitchy transition music]

Souji: For this very special episode, we have an extra special guest. You may know her as the Violet Vendetta or the captain of the baseball clan. Everyone, give it up for Raimei Tsubusu! You look fantastic today, can you tell our listeners what you're wearing?

Raimei: My sincere apologies for the white noise that was the sound of a closing inter-dimensional portal.

Raimei: It's good to be here. And a great sacrifice on your part, Souji. Not a lot of men would have the guts to expose themselves to this level of danger. As for my attire, these are unique garbs crafted by the Lunarian Moon People, forged in the pits of the thirty-second moon crater. They have plus fifty resilience to all forms of stabbing, cutting and elemental weapons, and the shirt comes with the added benefit of granting me the unique ability: Instantaneous Gangstah Charm. With this ability, I can instantaneously cast any Gokudō spell written within the Book of Yamaguchi.

Souji: Gokudō, that's a synonym for the yakuza, right?

Raimei: Yes, it is. It means the Extreme Path, the hidden school of mysticism I and others subscribe to—one of the five routes to enlightenment, alongside the Mafioso talent tree, and Mexican Cartel Member.

Raimei: In terms of appearance, I had the most excellent designers from Gucci collaborate with the moon people to compress it all down into a pair of pearl white trousers, a tuxedo jacket, white dress shirt, and leather shoes. The Gucci Glasses of Information allow me to see in infra-red and night vision, and I've also got a watch made of platinum that tells me the timezones of all the countries on the world, the moon people's time cycle, and of course, it also dual functions as a holographic mind reader.

Raimei: Some people believe Prada is better. They are wrong.

Souji: I'm more of a thrift store kinda guy, but to each their own. I'll have to get some tips from the Lunarian Moon People on how they make clothes. Most of my clothes are custom made for my Quirk to work on them so I like to sew them myself. Does your inter-dimensional portal go to the moon as well?

Raimei: I lived in this dimension for almost three hundred years before I finally managed to make my first slip into the dream-zone, and that was nearly one hundred years ago. It isn't precisely possible to take a direct, inter-dimensional portal to the moon itself. But it is possible to reach the mirror version of it in the ninth dimension. In that dimension, the moon's where the earth is. So that solves a lot of things. Has to do with the Lunarian's Mystic Mirror view. As you probably already know, portals like these are dependent on reflections. So their mirrors make that impossible by reflecting everything back onto the earth. That's why the moon looks white. It's actually a verdant landscape, filled with grass and trees and everything. But it seems like a rock because we're just looking at a dull reflection of our own planet.

Souji: That's a very unique way to look at the moon. Shoutout to the huge unknown object that smacked the shit out of the Earth billions of years ago and gave us the moon. The sun is cool but that was the real MVP.

Souji: I gotta say, you do look very gangstah. Not to mention a holographic mind reader? Quick, what am I thinking of right now? [laugh]

Raimei: I'm... not sure if that would be appropriate for me to say. Last time I mind read a guy... didn't end well. Besides, this holographic watch would also immediately turn it into a visualization, which can be very embarrassing. So I'll spare you that. But maybe I'll show you a glimpse of my power at the end of this podcast. Sounds good?

Souji: Sounds good. Guess the listeners will just have to stay tuned and find out. Tell me Raimei, how does a multi-dimensional creature end up in Kyoranki Academy? What motivates you to become a hero?

Raimei: That's a good one. There are several reasons. I've lived for about four hundred years in total, so technically speaking, there's no reason for me to go to school. But you might've noticed that there's an expansive underground movement hidden beneath the shadows... the recent events were just one example of that. The CIA, FBI, Interpol, Europol, they're all part of it in some way, preparing for the inevitable Todeskrieg Event. All the major crime groups are getting ready for that, so we are too.

Raimei: On a different level, related to my current incarnation, I'm not unfamiliar with thrift stores either. My dad works long hours... so I want to find a way to help him. I don't know, it's not really black or white. But why Kyoranki Academy? It's one of the best schools in the country. A lot of my middle school friends didn't even get to go to high school. So I consider myself very privileged. I think that alone is motivation enough to be here.

Souji: I get what you mean about helping your family. I think that's a noble cause, Raimei. I grew up poor and mum and dad were mostly out making ends meet. The money's still my number one motivator but it makes me happy knowing that I'll make the city a little bit better for everyone living in it.

Souji: I'm excited that we finally get to go on missions. It makes you think how much far we’ve come. It’s been a crazy year and now we’re actually doing our part to be heroes. I don’t know about you but I’m excited to take down my first villain.

Raimei: I'm concerned people are going to be misinterpreting their roles in this entire thing. Based on what you said earlier, you're from a poor neighbourhood as well, right? So you know what it's like on the streets. What I'm just concerned by is that a lot of the people in our class, like, ... I watch them. I see that the majority don't have that. They don't have any street smarts, they don't know what it's like to be in that situation, to be poor... to be under the influence of junkies across the street. Yea, we've been trained, but I'm unconvinced that we've been prepared to deal with those situations.

Raimei: I think we can take down villains, sure. And there might even be a few out there we could stop. But I'm not excited about running into one; nothing is exciting about meeting someone that potentially wants to kill you. And I'm not sure we're helping the city by pushing our authority down people's throats, especially by a bunch of teenagers that have been told this is their big shot at heroism. Your local twelve-year-old marijuana seller doesn't need juvie, they need role models; good, role models that can inspire them—structural improvements to their lives, like decent food.

Raimei: You know how crazy it is that I can buy five fast-food hamburgers for the price of one piece of supermarket vegetable? If people wanna help the neighbourhood; go help out at a shelter—a soup kitchen. Hand out food; give your homeless newspaper salesman some cash to get him through the day. Japanese society is harsh, man. The second you fall out of the boat, your chances are pretty much zero. Everyone despises you. Your family ousts you. It's not fun. I know it, I've seen it in friends; how they're getting torn apart just because they're like, half-Chinese or something.

Raimei: I hope our peers just remember that when they're going out. If you're going in there guns blazing, you're just going to hurt more people than you'll save.

Souji: I get what you mean. I grew up in the middle of downtown Osaka, nothing but skyscrapers. Our high rise apartment was small, but it kept us safe from the streets. The news spoke of heroes that roamed the streets, shutting down crime wherever they went. People spoke of bright, shining icons in colourful suits, flashing cheesy grins at the camera. But only a few came to ours.

Souji: Growing up in the poor meant that at a young age, I was very cognizant of how the money would and could limit me and my life as I attempted to get to the place where I am supposed to be. Most people our age will never know about ketchup sandwiches, adding water to milk or to an empty shampoo bottle to get more shampoo. Hand-me-downs clothes, books, toys. Having a ‘candle day’ because the lights don’t work. [chuckle]

Souji: When I say to people I know downtown Osaka like it's the back of my hand, I really do mean it. I know which places to avoid during certain times of the day. You had to be street smart to survive, those are the rules of the game.

Raimei: Mhm, mhm. That's what I'm saying. I'm from the outskirts of Airin-chiku, so it's pretty much the same issue.

Souji: It's easy to get caught up in the title. A hero. Believe me, I'll admit that fame is enticing but at the end of the day, we're here to protect the whole city. Trust is a fragile thing. I think most of us in Kyoranki know that because of what happened. Villains and heroes are two sides of the same coin. We're both them in nature. Both are corrupted by the noble illusion of spreading ideas and helping others who on the 'good' side defined by them respectively. It's always been the human struggle in defining 'help' more importantly 'the others'. I don't know if I'm making sense but that's how I feel. [chuckle]

Raimei: And there's a couple of areas in between that too, mind. Not everyone's a bad guy, and not everyone's a good guy like the heroes that just pander for attention or the bad guys that are in it to support their families financially.

Souji: This Todeskrieg Event sounds interesting, what's going to happen?

Raimei: The Egyptian Pyramids. The moon landings. Global warming. Why did they happen? Did they happen? Or were these just small glimpses out of a much larger conspiracy? Why dedicate millions, tens of millions of dollars only to put a guy on the moon?

Raimei: The various gangs around the world know the answer. At least, the established ones. It's all a part of this cybernetic A.I that has kept us trapped in a virtual reality dimension, Souji. You think all of this is real, but like, do we have any proof? How can we reliably say that this isn't just...computer generated?

Souji: I'm a big arcade, video game fan so this is right up my alley. I had the same hunch as you, Raimei. The truth is that there’s much we simply don’t understand about our reality, and I think it’s more likely than not that we are in some kind of a simulated universe. Now, it’s a much more sophisticated video game than the games we produce, just like today World of Warcraft and Fortnite is way more sophisticated than Pac-Man or Space Invaders. If we develop the ability to produce even one simulated reality, we will almost certainly produce more than one.

Raimei: That's what confuses people. They think I'm going on about some sort of magical thing. But magic and science are one and the same, magic's just another way of trying to add rationality to it. And that's part of the Todeskrieg event. It's French for "Totem Pole Disaster"... it's written about in various religions. Some call it the Apocalypse, others Ragnarok ... basically the end of the world. When the simulation will be using too much data for the computer to handle.

Souji: Maybe we're just figment of imaginations and our creators are just forcing their every whim to us for fun. They're our writers, and we are their characters. Maybe they're just a bunch of roleplayers in a Discord server together? Do you hear that creator? I'm The Glitch now, a bug in your system. A disruption to the simulation.

Raimei: Based on archaeological data, humans, in our current shape and form... have existed for about two-hundred thousand years. Now, of course, imagine you're a person living in those sorts of environments. Yes, you'll be stuck most of the day, collecting food and whatever. But do you think those people were dumber than us? Of course not! They might've not had the schooling, but they had the same type of brain.

Raimei: Now, imagine that sort of situation. Okay, so, the first generation of Humans... they got it hard. The second one does as well. The third generation, well, it's a bit easier. And the fourth one... we're talking about everything within the span of a hundred years, considering people lived shorter lives.

Raimei: Now multiply that by a hundred. One hundred thousand years and they're trying to convince us that people only invented farming techniques twelve thousand years ago? It doesn't make sense. You can't convince me, people, before that time didn't... invent something. Didn't create something. Didn't create a civilization. Imagine, with our technology, with our A.I systems, our virtual reality capacities... I mean, if you're into gaming, look at the last fifty years.

Raimei: Now multiply that by four. Imagine just how bizarre that technology would be. Already, we've got games that are borderline lifelike. So how can we know that this isn't just.. some giant simulation? We can't. And we have to look at the empirical, most logical type of data. There's more evidence to suggest all of this is just a program than there is evidence to the contrary. But scientists aren't willing to recognize that.

Souji: I know! I can't believe no one is talking about this. Paranormal events like hauntings or alien encounters can be glitches in the simulation. Stuff like the Mandela Effect is supposedly proof that whoever is in charge of our simulation is changing the past. And don't get me started on Quirks! Superpowers born from radiation. You’re not going to get proof that we’re not in a simulation, because any evidence that we get could be simulated. If I were a character in a computer game, I would also discover eventually that the rules of our universe seem completely rigid and mathematical.

Souji: We’ve spent billions sending probes through outer space and should probably have found evidence of extraterrestrials by now, right? Not so fast: Aliens would likely be far more technologically advanced than we are, the thinking goes, so the fact that we haven’t located them suggests we live in a simulation they’ve figured out how to escape from. Or maybe the computer we’re in only has enough RAM to simulate one planetary civilization at a time?

Raimei: That's what we've been preparing for. The drug trade, the crime cartels, it all has to do with that.

[ASK SOUJI - glitchy transition music]

Souji: Now, let's shine the spotlight back towards the main focus of his podcast... me! Now, Raimei, it's your turn to ask me questions. C'mon, don't be shy, ask anything you'd like.

Raimei: are you sure you want to give me that sort of power? Because if I get to ask anything I like... First up, what's the deal with you and Ken? I don't want to pry into your love life, but you two looked very cosy in that meeting room.

Souji: Me and Ken? Love life? Oh, umm. I mean, umm. No, we aren't. You know. Together like that. [stammering]

Souji: We're just rivals! Yes, rivals. We started talking over the summer and we got closer during the campfire trip. Bunk buddies. Yeah, that. No love life here.

Raimei: Uh-huh. ... Bunk buddies. Well, if that's the official answer...

Souji: ...yes! Bunk buddies. That's the official answer.

Raimei: And I guess, another question is... why did you start this podcast? I'm not exactly famous or especially well-liked around the school, so I'm wondering why you're inviting someone like me to do this sort of thing.

Souji: I started this podcast because of Starlight. He's my favourite hero as you can probably tell. I always watched his talk show growing up, and it was what inspired me to enrol in Kyoranki in the first place. So this podcast is me passing it forward. I want to inspire other kids just like what Starlight did to me. One interview at the time.

Raimei: That's good. That you got a role model to follow, I mean... that you know what you want to do, and who ya wish to emulate. It's the same thing with the guys I mentioned earlier. ... Don't have plushies of them though, unfortunately.

Souji: You say the weirdest stuff in our group chat and I like it! You're interesting, zany and fun. You have a unique point of view, and having you in my show is an honour in it of itself.

Raimei: And I appreciate that about inviting me on your show I mean. Glad I could mention those frustrations I've been holding up. Don't have to go out of your way for me though, I'm okay with sticking to my own little bubble. That's just the life of a made-man. Forever in the shadows.

[Qs from the GC - glitchy transition music]

Souji: Let's move on to our audience questions! These were submitted by our classmates in our group chat. Ready?

Raimei: Yea, audience questions. I'm honestly surprised anyone finds me interesting enough to ask questions, but okay, let's go

Souji: Chia wants to know who are the special people in your life? What's something you're proud of and embarrassed by?

Raimei: Special people, huh? Well, I've got my dad. My mom ran out on us when I was little, so it has always been us versus the world. I've been going to a gym now for about... five years? And the people there are my role models, I guess. They inspired me to get into sports, like boxing. One in particular... the guy's a genuine sumo wrestler. But of the old generation? But yea, those guys have made a significant impact on me.

Souji: Haruto asks, why is your skin purple? Likewise, Ao inquires, do you know the girl who turned into a blueberry in Wonka's factory?

Raimei: As for my skin colour, ... I guess I've gotten a bit desensitized to questions like that. It's a skin mutation on my mother's side, supposedly to do with Quirks. I don't know, I always find it a bit weird to talk about. That nickname they gave me too, it's like calling someone with a darker skin pigmentation the "Black Vendetta". I mean, not that I mind. Asking about the pigmentation's no problem because it's odd. I'm just saying, it feels a bit shitty to compare me with some fucking Willy Wonka scene when like six months ago a kid got bullied out of school because people kept comparing him to a video game character; so, uh, Ao, you're cool. No hard feelings. I'm just going to subtly compare you to a fucking Star Wars Droid if you try that shit again.

Souji: Ken wants to know what you think of the recent baseball team tryout. And to that I say: we have a baseball team? Can I also try out just to beat that monkey boy?

Raimei: Yea, we got a baseball team! I mean, we got teams for nearly every popular sport, right? It's a prestigious school, after all. But we're doing our best to try for the nationals. And you're welcome to join up if you want, we can definitely use a few more clan members. As for our most recent try-out... that all depends on whether he joins up or not.

Souji: Kotoe inquires, do you play the bass?

Raimei: I don't play the bass or any other instrument.

Souji: And finally, Fumi wants to know your favourite genre of book.

Raimei: My favourite genre of books is crime novels.

[ENDING - glitchy transition music]

Souji: Well, we're nearing the end of our show, Raimei, is there anything you'd like to remind our audience, maybe plug whenever they can find you online? Maybe some tips on how to prepare for the Todeskrieg Event?

Raimei: I had an excellent time Souji. Thanks for inviting me. As for preparations, the people can make for the Todeskrieg Event, consider this a bit of an unofficial announcement; we are in fact a highly secretive group. But we, that being me and a few other highly skilled individuals steeped knee-deep in the criminal underground, decided to create a sparring group a few months ago. A fighting ring, as it were.

Raimei: There's no real focus on anything other than fighting a lot, gaining that sort of experience. I don't really bother with rankings or who's best or whatever either, I mean, my choice to just not participate in that tournament should prove of that. So there's no ego thing going on. Whether ya win or lose, it's all good. It's like a clan...But our meetings are sorta irregular, so you can still be part of another, like how I'm still in the baseball clan.

Raimei: As for the best way to contact me, all the usual underground channels work.

Souji: You've been pretty cool to talk to, so before you leave, I have a special surprise just for you. But don't forget, you promised to show me a glimpse of your power.

Raimei: And I did promise to show you a sample of my hidden, mystical power, didn't I? Alright- I'll try and make sure to contain it so that we don't blow up this entire office.

[sounds of moving chairs]

[sound of an 80s disco beat from silly cartoons transformation scenes]

Raimei: Ultra-Mobster, transformation! Percentage; three hundred!

Raimei: Yamaguchi-Gumi spell; Fifty-Five! Gokudō code, page three. Entering heat mode. Specialized skill; DISROBE.

[sounds of thunder]

Raimei: Looks like I got a new favourite shirt. Thanks, Glitch.

Souji: What a way to end the show! [applause]

Souji: Well listeners, if the world does turn out to be just a simulation, remember to make the most of it. Make a point of seeing some good in every day. Drop your resentments. We all have them. Make every day count. The end of the world is coming but until then, to keep up with the show follow me @thesoujishow, and to support my small clothing business, follow @glitchgear on all social media platforms. Once again, this has been Raimei Tsubusu and Souji Yoshihiro, and you’ve been listening to the Souji Show! A show where I talk about anything I want. 'Cause this is my show, and not yours. Until next time. Insert catchphrase here.

[vaporwave lo-fi song]

[EXTRAS - glitchy transition music]

Souji: If you listen to this podcast, chances are you go to Kyoranki Academy. Kido Kotoe is looking for a bass player for her band. So if any of you are interested, please contact her at [Kotoe's school email].