#but yeah ive always thought about him but for the longest time his design has just. not been coming to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deamstellarus · 5 years

Text

In Viata Asta (3)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 6k Warnings: Uhm…none? Maybe injuries and language?

A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? Also yes I know, this gif doesn’t have that much to do with this update but I love how it looks.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed.

“You don’t want to do that, zvezdochka. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat.

“How long...?” You croaked.

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… Steve.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said.

"Sorry, sir, I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me."

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.

__________

As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary.

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.”

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design.

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo.

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that.

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side.

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most.

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded.

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go.

"You scared me, zvezdochka," she whispered into your hair.

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood.

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?”

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head.

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.”

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least Agent M?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.”

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, sestrenka.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable. __________

Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a few stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise.

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone.

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child.

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight and a half pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are ‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye.

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago.

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”

__________

You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl.

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object.

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, Agent M?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it.

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying.

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong. __________

Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily.

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash.

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again.

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat.

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic. __________

It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs.

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.”

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?”

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke.

“Ingeras?” _________

A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!

zvezdochka (Russian) - little star sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis ingeras (Romanian) - angel

_________

In Viata Asta Taglist: @rvgrsbrns @artsyspacebee @thelovelydreamer17

#Stucky x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfiction #In Viata Asta

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cruisercrusher · 4 years

Note

i totally wanna hear what you have to say abt rebels!! personally im a big fan and ive never seen anyone specifically not like the show so im interested in ur thoughts !!

Ok please keep in mind I do not at all pretend to be unbiased because clone wars is my most favourite thing ever so every Star Wars thing ever gets compared to clone wars it’s like my thing

The core of why I’m not fond of rebels is because to me none of it felt impactful. I’ve actually watched I think 3 out of the 4 seasons, because my d*d made us all watch it as a “family” and imma be real with you chief. Years down the line I struggled to remember the main characters names. Almost none of it actually stuck with me in any meaningful way, someone will mention something that happened in an episode I did watch and I’ll be like damn i have no recollection???? But also like having gone back and taken a second and third look at the show I’ve gotten the impression that even within the show nothing has that much impact, maybe the last season is different idk but it feels very one note to me and at times shallow in the story telling. Nothing sticks, because the characters retain a degree of staticity throughout what I’ve seen, and Disney very clearly had a set formula laid out for how the episodes/arcs would go that left little room for the ballsy storytelling and character development we got from clone wars.

It’s a little disappointing because I think there were things in rebels that had a lot of potential, rebels as a whole had a lot of potential but Disney really put a stranglehold on Dave Filoni and the rest of the creative teams creative ability.

That being said, I really don’t like the animation either. Like, really don’t like it. I feel like it lacks depth and texture, and I don’t like a lot of the character designs, and the backgrounds are a little flat, and the way the characters move is weird to me. They’re just a tad too fluid and a touch too expressive that for me it reads as very uncanny valley, it actually took me out of it sometimes.

(Also the human skin tones all looked kinda off to me I was like I don’t think that’s the right undertone babes that’s too much yellow. Too much yellow babe)

As well as the fact that the animation stayed pretty much exactly the same throughout the series, and had none of the actual real innovation and groundbreaking animation that the clone wars had.

Going back to the story telling, and again, this is Disney’s fault, there were a lot of missed opportunities for them to go really hard. There were a lot of lessons in clone wars (like always question authority, and Capitalism Bad, and War is Futile, and sometimes the people who are supposed to be the good guys aren’t necessarily very good) that Disney is just straight up afraid of. Like clone wars really had a lot of more left leaning themes that is simply too much for the conservative, one percenter, trump supporting Disney executives and shareholders.

An example of this I feel would be when they introduced the clones. If I could have I would have done that arc very differently. And don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing grandpa Rex! But the way those episodes were executed felt a little. Dissatisfying? Maybe not quite disrespectful, but then again imo the story of the clones is THE MOST tragic one in all of Star Wars and those episodes had an element of levity to them that I don’t think fit. That arc could have been really deep and somber (and they could have done at least a little to acknowledge the rampant ptsd the clones must have, especially Wolffe who shot down his general and father figure against his will) yet the script didn’t really do those characters justice at all.

Also, I would have written Sabine’s character very differently. For one, I would have made her at least twenty, because with everything I know about it her it’s baffling that she’s supposedly only like sixteen. Makes zero sense. I don’t get it. Also I would make her a butch lesbian. Like a total mean dyke. We need more of those and I think Sabine could have mean dyke potential.

Now. The inquisitors. Dear lord. Again, could have been really cool, but tHOSE SPINNY LIGHTSABERS DRIVE ME INSANE HOW DO YOU FLY WITH THOSE IT SHDHJSJFJD FORGET THATS NOT HOW THE FORCE WORKS, THATS NOT HOW PHYSICS WORKS!!!!

Barbie life in the dream house had better animation because they were actually supposed to look plastic. Also, rebels yoda haunts my nightmares.

And I specifically don’t like Ahsoka’s character design either. I like her outfit but she looks less like Ahsoka to me and more like Ahsoka’s cousin. Her skull is a different shape. Why is it a different shape? Did she have jaw transplant surgery? Where is the consistency. We literally see an older version of Ahsoka during the mortis arc and she actually looks like herself (and looks really cool!) but Rebels Ahsoka looks nothing like that? I don’t understand. It makes my brain hurt to think about it

Alright, I’ve said a lot of negative things, so here’s a positive: I really appreciate Chopper. I just love chaotic astromech droids who feel nothing but unbridled bloodlust at all times. It is so funny. I appreciate him

And, bearing in mind I haven’t seen the whole episode (because I don’t want to) mostly just gift sets and clips, but the episode where Maul finally finds Obi-Wan on tatooine and they have their final duel?? Very cool concept, lots of potential, I just wish the lightsabers weren’t so SKINNY WHY ARE THEY SO SKINNYYYYYYY

I think that’s about everything? Barring the fact that for the longest damn time I thought none of the characters had fingernails because I mistook Ezra’s layered gloves for fingerless gloves and thought he didn’t have fingernails and that freaked me out? Yeah I think that’s about all my thoughts. I tried to have as little blantantly comparing to clone wars as I could because that’s not exactly fair, of course rebels was never going to be on the same level as clone wars. When it comes to well done cartoons I think it’s like. Way up at the top tier is Atla then clone wars in second place, and then literally everything else is wayyyy below it because that’s just how it is tbh. Anyways hope this satiated your curiosity!

#also i dont like jeb i think hes just annoying. like why is he here. literally what does he even DO what js his purpose other than to be #annoying. and ugly

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spearxwind · 4 years

Text

OOF... i dont even have a theme for the major extinction characters sjlklfdhk. i dont.. i dont have most minor characters planned out even

I WILL GIVE YOU HOWEVER, a song that’s been inspiring me for certain worldbuilding things (though i cant say much bc idk if itll end up showing in the story at all but you can have it!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XciV8HuNQLw [it’s realm breaker, by mechina]

Oh man, im influenced by a bunch of art and comics but i couldnt pin down specific inspirations for those haha

as for the more broad sense, i also have a bunch of things! significantly, physics and space. it might not look like it but i think a lot about the logistics of things and whatever rules would exist in my universes etc. it does suck sometimes bc it prevents me from doing things just for the hell of it, but i love applying knowledge to things. and space has always been something really close to me, my dad’s an astrophysicist so ive been exposed to all sorts of cool knowledge about it since i was a wee bab

i also really really love metaphors and symbolism, but rather than take inspiration from things i just use my own personal symbolism x) i put a lot of myself in what i do. which.. i guess could be said for many artists too so its not too special haha

and also as with many other artists, i AM fueled by spite significantly. specifically 1. for the people who once thought or who still think id never be good to do art, or that id never get better at what i do. 2. for people who draw wings wrong (especially professional people? what’s wrong with you. im begging you to look at a bird) 3. for people and companies that make terrible designs with terrible decisions (they fuel me to do better than them) 4. for people who believe that the only way to be good at art and design is to make overly complex and visually charged, detailed designs with many colors/hues (all my ocs are fairly simple and have the most limited colors kffhk)

im sure there’s a lot more but ive spent a lot of time writing this out already and i cant really think of anything else so i hope this is a good enough answer!!

god i do NOT have enough knowledge for this but what the fuck was up with the volturi lol. like fuckin, vampire goth club over there did nothing to change over hundreds of years, all of them still stuck in their medieval ways. i remember a plot point that was touched upon was that they had a specific person lure in a bunch of lost tourists through the sewer entrance so that the volturi could drink them and like ?? bro. how is this not investigated at any point, ever. like a shit ton of tourists just disappear ??? all the time?? and no one gives a fuck?? no investigation?? what do they do with the bodies?????

also, they were willing to blast the carlisle family into fucking orbit over Turning A Child (tm) into a vampire, but they had absolutely no qualms about vampire wars/soldiers where a lot of people were irresponsibly turned into neophytes for their strength (like jasper) or people who turned others just for the fuck of it or bc theyd have sickass powers (like benjamin. that was the sole reason for benjamin being turned. bc the dude could feel that benj would have cool powers and he absolutely did... he was a fucking avatar. controller of the elements. and he did absolutely jack shit in the books. im still so mad)

but yeah anyway the volturi are big hypocrites. got nothing to say about their lifestyle and aesthetic tho bc italians just be like that

his horns and the spikes on his forearms and tail are rly solid and rly pointy so theyre about as dangerous as a solid, pointy big thing can be

the spikes on his neck and back are a lot softer though. theyre flat scales and are probably bendy, but still sturdy. they don’t have edges or anything so you wont be sliced up if you touch them but touching them is probably not too comfortable

alex would probably be a crocodile tbh! it’s one of the things i based his dragon form off of for the latest iteration, and i just think it fits him a lot (also its funny that crocodiles are water creatures but alex has a Big Dislike of water)

also i literally cannot see adri as anything other than a snake sklhfsdk. its what he is!! this is like asking someone’s favorite color but not letting them choose their actual favorite. do you want me to lie? do you want me to say something not true??

Honestly i always loved deer but refused to acknowledge it, especially to myself, and much less thought about having one as a sona bc “prey animals are lame” was rly prevalent in my circles for the longest time. everyone was a dragon or a wolf etc bc they wanted to be cool and so did i but i never vibed with it it took me a rly long time to just accept that i rly liked deer haha and i think what made me decide on it in the end was ‘well i can make a deer more monstery if i wanted to, i have that power’ and so i did then later i tied the whole ‘wrong deer’ aesthetic to my own personal symbolism of always being picked on by many until i got sick of it and learned to stand up for myself. my sona is something that’s not for people to prey on anymore, and so am i c:

honestly? ive never thought about it. im not too knowledgeable about dnd still so i dont think id be able to do them justice

ive thought about making dnd encounters based off of my ocs thought (like, how their powers would work turn/mechanic wise) but if i ever did i dont think id use them or talk about them :’)

jkdg gosh thats so sweet thank you sm!! im so happy you enjoy my stuff :’DDDD

WELL, in no particular order:

1. several glass bottles 2. bei’s pet golem sierra (they got her back though) 3. a knife or two probably 4. an air conditioning remote 5. do sewer rats count? sewer rats. besides all the other rats i mean 6. homeless man who tried to rob his store at gunpoint 7. the gun 8. drank a bottle of cyanide once 9. a motorcycle (as collateral damage) 10. tbh he will eat any creature he finds while walking around that’s small enough to fit in his mouth and no one can rly stop him

DISGOSTING!!! not even bc of the flavor i rly dont care abt that but bc like... warm pineapple... that’s the real crime

oh my gosh that’d be an honor tbh!! I’m not sure if i’d be a big help since i might be tied with school stuff at the time, but id definitely love to try!! ty!!

#ask #anon #ask dump #long post #yeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaw

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lunawings · 5 years

Text

King of Prism SSS episode 7 commentary (Leo)

So this episode is the opener for what I know as the theatrical “Part 3″ ... and boy what an opener.... By the time it was over I was like “T-That was only the first one... BUT IVE ALREADY FELT SO MANY THINGS..”

Having this as the first episode of the three has been pretty difficult because it’s just such a rollercoaster. I’ve actually been hesitant to see go Part 3 more just because I know I have to get through this episode right off the bat. And not because I think it’s a bad episode OH NO ITS JUST... SO MANY... FEELINGS..........

I got to go to the midnight showing for Part 3, and I honestly think that has an unfairly high influence on how I feel about the episodes. Part 1 and Part 3 I saw at the midnight showing and I loved them. Part 2 and Part 4 I saw at 8 am when I was exhausted and miserable and I ended up thinking Part 2 was weaker than the others, and Part 4....................... uhhuhh we’ll get to that later, anyway--

So when I translated the original story about Over the Rainbow crossdressing for Miss Kakyoin, I honestly did it just for that two second reference in episode 3. I had no idea this was also going to happen. So when the first second of Part 3 opened on the theater screen with this I was like OH. MY. GAWD. YES. YESSSSSSSSSSSS. I’m gonna cry already. (Little did I know what was coming up later in this episode....)

Also this was the point where I began to realize some of these episode are taking place in the past/out of order. Because SSS starts off in the summer, but the Kakyoin Fest usually takes place in May. So either this is a Rainbow Live retcon, or this episode is taking place in May. (But I suppose there’s no particular big reason that can’t be possible. Well one small one maybe...)

So this is Rinne’s first appearance in SSS, right? (Outside of her silhouette in the OP.)

So... I don’t really think it’s a spoiler to tell you she will appear again, under.... vErY DiFfeRent CircumStanCes........

And I just wonder if like, when we get to that moment, someone who is watching only SSS who has never seen Rainbow Live or Pride the Hero is gonna be like “Oh that’s the girl from the beauty contest.... wait..... WAIT WHAT IS HAPPENING.... “

Oh lord.

Anyway.

This scene is a whole lot of fun in cheering because we all have our green out and are cheering to Freedom, then it... stops.... then it starts again ahahah....

I love Taiga in the background here. It’s clearly intentional.

I wonder if he actually believes what Kazuki says here or not. But you know what. I don’t think it matters because I think this scene has about zero influence on how he reacts next. I mean, if Taiga actually realizes Kazuki’s just doing this to save face, well then.... hell yeah he’d want to help defend Kazuki-senpai’s honor! And if he believes him and thinks crossdressing and winning a beauty contest is an honor for Edel Rose.... hell yeah he’d want to follow in Kazuki-senpai’s footsteps ahah ha.......... yeah see it literally doesn’t matter........... For Kazuki-senpai!!!

Yeah see this is definitely post-episode 3 Taiga. He definitely changed in that episode after becoming honest about his feelings for Kazuki. So this is the only stupid little thing that makes me question when this episode is taking place since the Nebuta Festival is in August ahahah ha.... (Well maybe he realized long ago.)

Wait woah woah what’s going on here with the subtitle. I thought I saw someone else’s screenshot of this and it was an upside down “A”? Is it just my computer? Is it really like this?

BTW I actually never had any idea what they were saying here before, neither did I pick up that it was probably a reference to μ's because in the theater you just cannot see anything on that newspaper because it’s on screen for like half a second.

If I had, maybe I would have realized that.....

......Both Kakeru and Shin’s outfits seem to be a reference to the original Love Live! I had a little subconscious inkling in the back of my mind that I knew where Kakeru’s outfit was from and it probably wasn’t Pretty Series. But Shin..... Shin..... for the longest time I kept trying to think what coord this was. Because it does look like it could easily be a PriPara coord, doesn’t it? But after other folks started pointing it out, yeah it does look like they were trying to rip on the “Bokura wa Ima no Naka de” outfits goddamn it hahaha.... Well, it makes sense because there are people who worked on both Love Live! and Rainbow Live.

But yeah I swear if they had only made the skirt plaid I would have gotten it. The plaid skirts are such a big point of that outfit for me.

But still anyway, if anybody can think of a Pretty Series coord which is similar to this (or can make one on the 3DS).... um.... hit me up................ now..........

OH COME ON MINATO you can do so much better than this.... For Miss Schwartz you actually found a look that worked for you....

I mean sure he looks like someone’s mom but isn’t he.

The moment when I was like “Welp, maybe Taiga’s straight after all.” Such a mystery, this kid.

MINATO AND YU OMG

This moment goes by so fast I literally missed it my first two showings but OMG it’s my favorite joke in this episode and one of my favorite visual jokes overall I crack up uncontrollably every single time. Ahhhhhh you poor boys....

Welp someone hasn’t watched PriPara but I think we already knew that from Kakeru’s “Glowstick Cage”. Still, I really think you’d be able to figure out this is clearly a catch phrase but WHATEVS

I think my reaction echoes most of the community’s reaction as being “are they gonna say the thing--THEY SAID THE THING”

As much as I want to feel bad that Leo feels like he has to do this, it’s just too funny. And not to mention adorable.

How “masculine” Leo somehow ends up being EVEN CUTER than natural Leo, I will never be able to explain but OH LORD HE IS. (I guess just, the more he tries to fight it the stronger it is....)

He’s not lying.

................ no..... noooooo.......... *buries face in hands*

So. Okay. Okayokay. Sorry we gotta pause here oh boy.

Ever since the Pride the Hero era, Tsurugi was always my favorite member of The Shuffle. Especially since I realized that even though we could see him failing the training machine in the first movie, he still made the group. It was my headcanon that it was because Kokoro, Mondo, and Mitsuba helped him rise up and overcome his challenges until he finally made it. I saw him as the Otoha of the group. A sweet lovely boy who somehow got mixed up in all the corruption of Schwartz Rose AND SOMEHOW he survived.

And then this happened.

His feminine personality. It was all an act. IT WAS A LIE. Just created to add the right appeal to The Shuffle. AND I FELL FOR IT.

...............

I guess Joji isn’t the only liar in Schwartz Rose. I guess, Schwartz Rose just naturally attracts that kind of people huh.

Well, from this moment on Tsurugi was not my favorite anymore.

For the record, my favorite member of The Shuffle nowadays is Ace. And probably subconsciously has been since episode 5? But I actually didn’t come to realize that for.... a few more episodes...... So we’ll talk about it then.

Right now we have to talk about.... wait... wait no no no no no no no

You ever have one of those moments when time just kinda stops and everything just kinda... spins around you........... that was this moment for me at the midnight showing....................

Sorry I have to interrupt again to mention this. They revealed here Leo’s dad supposedly designed all these characters.

Well OK, but the thing is in this universe supposedly PairChams and stuff are actually real.

So how can they be designed by Leo’s dad?

Welp, my theory on this is Leo’s dad either was a prism star, or just has a lot of prism sparkle in him, and he secretly just draws exactly what he sees.

I think the phrasing is a little weird here. It’s more like Leo didn’t even particularly realize he was a boy. (Or what his gender was at all.)

(Yes they are wearing mini-Fortune Party CRs.)

(Yes this is also our Young of Prism reference.)

.......I really like this episode but...... this part is just so hard for me..... it’s just...... a bit too real............. but I applaud them for it the same time but.... it’s just.... it’s hard.............

People take out yellow and cheer for Otoha here, but at first I was just so distraught after the proceeding scenes it took me until maybe my 4th or 5th cheering show to actually join them.... just trying to get the energy and to come out of it and like oh it’s Otoha.... oh where are my concert lights.... oh where is yellow..... oh it’s over...... ................. (ahh it’s just.... so sad........)

Okay so now that we’ve gotten this far, I can finish my train of thought about the order that the boys joined Edel Rose.

I think it’s safe to assume Yukinojo was probably first. His episode revealed that he liked prism shows since he was really little, so he probably entered his first year of junior high? I think Kakeru was already in junior high when he found out about prism shows so he probably transferred in anywhere from 2012 - 2014.

Yu and Minato I think probably joined at the same time in April 2015. Because when we meet them in the first movie they are both 1st years (in junior high and senior high respectively) and we know from Minato’s episode he was never in the junior high division.

Then Leo joined sometime not too long after that, and finally Shin.

Taiga is the only mystery, because his flashback only features Kazuki and there is nothing to particularly date it. In my head I’m gonna throw him in there after Kakeru but before Minato/Yu though.

......Anyway.

Leo’s reactions as he meets each of the boys, and vice versa, are just... SO INTERESTING to me and reveal so much about him and the other characters. So I’m sorry but. We’re basically gonna take this frame-by-frame....

Oh gosh oh no oh to think that because of his experiences in life, Leo is just so conditioned to the point where this is the first thing he says directly to any of his new friends I just I.... *chair squeak* excuse me I need a moment.

*walks out of the room*

*comes back after several minutes*

Oho gosh okay okay sorry where were we

AND HIS FACE when he realizes Kakeru called him cute and clearly meant it as a compliment I just I *chair squeak* I may need another minute we’re like ten seconds into this scene and it’s already just--

OHHHH MANNNNNN

I’m pretty sure Leo’s extreme reaction here isn’t because he’s upset at not being called cute. It’s because, once again, Leo is just so conditioned because of everything he’s been through. He took one look at Taiga and probably saw him as the exact archetype of a person who usually bullies him.

But he was wrong.

Taiga, the actual purehearted softie that he is, had absolutely no idea his words would have such an effect on Leo. And once he realizes, he PANICS, and says absolutely anything he has to in order to fix it as fast as possible.

TAIGA

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

I’d also like to note what makes this scene even funnier is that Taiga is using a Tohoku slang word for “cute”. (This is a younger Taiga who hasn’t quite lost his northern dialect yet. Also sort of a northerners bonding moment for the two of them maybe?)

So Taiga being attracted to Leo is a thing I guess. But.... but does it really count as being gay with Leo, like I mean.....?

Well.... Taiga being asexual is probably ruled out at least.

Anyway.

Out of all of them, Leo’s encounter Minato might just be my favorite.

First, Minato reaches out his hand intending to shake Leo’s.

But Leo, probably being just.... so desperate for human contact at his point, sees this and actually reaches up and grabs Minato’s hand with both his hands instead.

If you remember, Leo being too touchy-feely with other boys was one of the reasons he was bullied. Probably moments exactly like this.

But Minato....

He doesn’t flinch. His expression never changes. Instead he’s just like, oh you remind me of my sister. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And he probably thinks that’s kinda nice that it will be like having his beloved sister around.

shfsfshl;dsaSDJGSOGSAG+J

Yu doesn’t care who Leo is as long as he thinks he’s cool.

Sounds about right.

Gonna say the obvious here but YUKINOJO WHAT ARE YOU DOING

How he just immediately powers down and goes into kabuki practice mode when nothing has been happening for 30 seconds.....

I have things to say about this encounter too but we’ll get to it later.

My favorite comedic line in the episode.

Yukinojo is somewhat oblivious about gender norms himself eheh.

I love the juxtaposition of this line with this scene. It’s not a coincidence surely.

Leo kind of just made a fool of himself here, but the other boys had almost no reaction. They were all just kinda like “huh”, and instead of “this Leo kid is a weirdo” it’s “Yukinojo what did you do” hahahah. That, is acceptance. That is Leo finally finding a place where he can belong.......... Until.....

Oh boy I’m sorry we gotta go on another tangent here. A dark one.

Throughout SSS it’s pretty clear that Shin’s arrival had a big impact on everyone, but it probably had the biggest impact on Leo.

Edel Rose was the first place in his adolescence where he was able to find acceptance.

And I think it’s safe to say, that without Shin to bring everyone together, Edel Rose probably would not have survived.

And if that happened.....

Leo would have nowhere to go.

I really shudder to think about what might have happened.

And I don’t think it’s a huge exaggeration to think that Shin joining Edel Rose... may have actually saved Leo’s life.

So when you really stand by and take all of this into perspective.

All of a sudden how attached Leo is to Shin. His over-protectiveness, his jealousy. It.... it starts to make a lot more sense.

So from this moment on I decided I won’t fault him for it anymore. I can understand.

Oh gosh okay I know it’s hard to come out of that with this, but....

Y.. yay Christmas Party! This is going to come up again in SSS, but since people are going to be talking about it now I’ll talk about it now.

The Christmas Party is an event which happened in detail on the Prism Rush Main Story and was the first time the boys all performed together as a group and debuted Dramatic Love.

And yes, at the same time it is also an analog to the real live Music Ready Sparking concert, which was the first time the voice actors all performed together in real life. Those are the outfits they wore in the real concert, and the same pose they used for promotional materials.

They actually re-drew it for the anime in the performance outfits instead of the concert T-shirts.

(The outfits aren’t a secret anymore, and no need to sell T-shirts ahah....)

WHAT. THEY FIXED IT. Okay I SWEAR in the theatrical version of this there is a continuity error here where Leo has his pigtails in this back shot, but his hair is down from the front. I paused here to take a screenshot so I could mention it then I was like wait whaaaaaaaaa. This is the only time I have noticed a blatant change between the theatrical version and the TV version. (Other than the new endings.) It makes me wonder if there’s anything else I missed.

PFFT.

I guess “yes” isn’t the worst translation, and who am I to talk since I don’t translate “IIZE” at all. But it drains the flavor out of it whenever I try.

If you’re not aware, “IIZE” was the scoring system in the boys’ PriPara from Idol Time, DanPri. The joke is that it’s like a masculine version of “iine” which was the scoring system in the regular girls PriPara, and still is in PriChan. Probably the most literal translation of “iine” is “likes” since that’s what they call the like button on Facebook/Twitter. But yeah it’s a bit of a journey to understand this I suppose.

Iize = burly likes

? ? ?

He’s just.... he’s just so weird........... Tsurugi why...............

(Yes, Mirei hair and Bunny Magician coord from Prism Tours. Sorry I’m skipping over pointing out some of the PriPara references on purpose since this post is just so long as is.)

PFFFFFFT okay okay. Okay. OKAY. Okay.

I know this is probably just in here for a throwaway joke but OHHHH lord.

We saw Alec compete in a beauty contest on Prism Rush before in the Street Beauty No. 1 event, but not on purpose as Louis basically tricked him that time. To think he’d come this close to doing it on purpose, and in his Mom’s clothes?...... ohhhhhhhh wow

If this really almost happened, then I guess Alexander’s riding the same train as post-episode 3 Taiga nowadays isn’t he ahah.

And finally we get to the prism show. But oh gosh, I have to say I do not like his initial outfit. First of all it’s supposed to be a boys’ outfit but it’s.... not.... I guess they were trying to go for a Peter Pan thing or something, but it just registers strongly in my head that Peter Pan is usually played by a woman and like. I just wish they would have made this outfit a bit more masculine to highlight the change that’s gonna happen. The least they could do is take off the earrings.

Not to mention form-fitting stuff does not work for Leo. It highlights how small and child-like his body is, and they even do a butt shot and just NO no please no why. STOP. Okay, my only criticism against this episode is that. Had to say it.

When you need a character to clarify this you’re doing it wrong.

But anyway, moving on.

This.

When we got to this moment, I just.... I felt.... such a great vicarious weight lifted off my shoulders. It just felt so good to finally, finally see this. It’s been a long time coming.

Okay, let’s go back. Way back.

During the first movie, when we first met Leo. In the bath scene he introduced himself using “boku” (a male pronoun). He was presented as wanting to be more boyish, and Yukinojo’s little protege. And I said OK, and I accepted this for face value. For a while.

But then about a year passed, and this CD came out.

And I went woah. This was the first point when I began to realize things might not be quite as they seemed. Leo is just straight out wearing girls’ clothing here. As oblivious as he is, nobody can be quite that oblivious.

So the whole theme of their duo song is mutual respect, and it clearly introduced for the first time the irony of Yukinojo and Leo’s relationship in that although Leo looks up to Yukinojo, in truth Yukinojo wishes he could be more like Leo because Leo is the feminine ideal he’s striving for as a kabuki actor who does female rolls.

Well okay, but the thing is.

Leo supposedly wants to be more masculine, but... but....

When he first meets Yukinojo, that’s not the reason he attaches himself to him.

Leo picks the most feminine member of the group to model his ideal after. Not someone rough like Taiga, or built like Minato. He picks Yukinojo. Yukinojo.

And that’s when you start to realize.... Nothing Leo has said has ever matched up with what his actual actions are.

Sure, he talks a lot.... but....

What has he actually done to try and become more masculine since King of Prism started?

Even when he purposely sets out to dress masculine in stories on Prism Rush (like in his initial PR story for one), he always ends up picking out feminine clothes somehow.

Although he once introduced himself using “boku” to Shin, it’s pretty much exclusively become “watashi” over time hasn’t it?

His Pride the Hero subplot was enjoying his (arguably) feminine hobby of clothing design. No masculine quest subplot there.

And we even got to the point where SSS opened with him wearing a frilly pink shirt in one episode and pigtails in the next.

The more time Leo spends at Edel Rose, a place where he is accepted, the more he slowly opens up and starts acting like himself again.

So if you’re thinking this came from nowhere, you haven’t been paying attention.

Still, I was really worrying about what was really going on inside him a lot before this episode came up. And then. Finally. FINALLY.

This episode should be seen by not just King of Prism fans. Not just Pretty Series fans. This episode should be seen by everyone.

GAHHHH I’M JUST.... SO HAPPY..............

I LOVE YOU TOO

I think just looking at these screenshots and taking it all in is making me tear up more than in the theater.

Okay so. When I saw Leo’s coord for the first time, my immediate thought was Laala’s first PR....

If you think maybe something else is a better fit though let me know.

So I actually think this score for Leo is fair. He only did two non-connecting jumps, and as this episode revealed he is the least experienced member of Edel Rose. (...Like I said before Shin... Shin is a special case........) I really like how their shows are actually accurate to what their skill level would reasonably be.

But it also just makes Minato’s higher score more of a mystery.

I love, love how this contest has progressed from year to year. Rinne -> Kazuki -> Leo -> ???

It may take us until we get to the next generation to get another winner, but someday I hope we see one....

YES this is obviously PriPara ahah but in canon it might be “Prism Land”? Ahah.

Okay, the end!

The post is over!

The end!

Why are you looking at me like that?

It’s over!

Thanks for reading!

.............

.....................

Okay. Since you’ve somehow stuck with me THIS FAR, I’m going to talk a little more about how this episode effected me personally and why it’s important to me.

The depiction of bullying was just so frighteningly accurate, and I feel like other people who have been through something similar would probably agree.

5th grade really is the year.

It’s right around that time when gender rolls really seem to solidify. All of a sudden lines are drawn. The girls become more girlish and the boys become more boyish.

It was around that time that I also noticed, that I didn’t like the same things that other girls my age liked. Other people noticed too.

My gender issues weren’t as profound as Leo’s, but I just wasn’t interested in things like clothes or boys yet. I still wanted to watch cartoons and play in the dirt and stuff.

Going into middle school, I also tried to pretend. But it didn’t work.

And I didn’t have any friends for a long time.

But then something happened to change that. I got more involved in music. Specifically marching band. Music and performing brought me together with a rag-tag group of people from different grades who didn’t know my past, all working together to put together a performance. That sort of activity (music, sports, etc.) builds bonds between people that surpass normal friendship. And eventually, through those sort of bonds, I found myself around people who accepted me even though I was a bit different. Gradually, I learned it was okay to be myself.

So just watching Leo make friends though prism shows.... just oh my god.... that’s me.

I kinda joked about Leo being my self insert character in King of Prism before, but man. Watching this episode. It just got so... SO much more real.

*deep breath*

*exhale*

Wow. Okay.

#king of prism #king of prism sss #leo saionji #writing this took so much out of me you won't even believe.....................#even when we get to the shin/louis episodes i don't think i'll have quite as much to say about them as i did this one

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rivalmelty · 3 years

Note

for the meta asks (there's a lot b/c i am Nosy): 2, 18, 20, 23, and 25

it has been so long agsjdhjdjd this the meta ask

under the cut because i will not shut up ahsjdjdk

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

theres a couple of arcs in gsg that ive been wanting to write for ages so much whump so much angst some good good character building yknow my favorite stuff to write but aside from my main project im really looking forward to developing how i like to write certain characters hhhhh rn im like really focusing on hyrule and ive already posted one lil thing exploring that but theres so many facets to character design in a writing sense and i want to play some more with that

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

hell yeah asjdhgkajh i abandon many plotlines in favor of something that flows a bit something or that shortens my writing load its a piece of advice i got while dancing that i tend to follow for a lot of creative endeavors but writing specifically and its find three options and pick the fourth because your mind is going to naturally pick the first three as the most logical answers but the fourth one tends to spice things up and make things exciting unfortunately a lot of these scraped plotlines are like entirely scraped so there’s very little evidence that they’ve ever existed but just know that things change in my writing a lot even if i don’t always write down what goes on in my little worm brain

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

DUDE TWILIGHT AND TWILIGHT PRINCESS LINK IN GENERAL hhhhhhh i’ve defo exhausted all my thoughts to you in the discord dms but i shall share some of my thoughts here ajshdgjah imo tp link is the second most tragic link based off my own person hcs and postgame lore that i’ve built for myself he defo will never beat out the hero of time for the most tragic because i will sob thinking about the hero of time but i digress

the way i write tp link and twilight in general gives the vaguest references to those personal hcs i think by default the hero’s spirit is youthful and just because tp link is older doesn’t mean that still isn’t true i personally believe he started his adventure 16 almost 17 years old and it all takes place over about a year so by the time his adventure is over he’s barely if not 18 he’s gone through this life changing event and he’s changed as a person with nothing really as evidence for that sure the twilight is gone but that’s really it so when i write him in any capacity i try to keep that sort of anguish at least in the background but idk if that’s really apparent in my writing agsjshsj

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

hmmmmm honestly idk agajsjsk the oldest wip in my google docs is a pokémon swsh royalty au tho so take with that what you will

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

DIALOGUE!!!!! god i love writing dialogue so bad 😭 it’s so fun having characters talk with each other hhhhhh

#bruh i swear none of this made any sense ahsjdjdkdk #orionsaysthings #tarteggs #ask game

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luucarii · 7 years

Text

Persona 5 Ramblings

this shit is long. like really long.

and I sound like a crazed fangirl so....

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IM TALKING ABOUT LIKE ALMOST EVERYTHING BUD!!!

also, i curse way too much in this... apologies in advance

also, happy father’s day even though this has nothing to do with it :)

THIS IS ALL BACKGROUND ON ME BEFORE I GOT THE GAME SKIP TO THE NEXT BOLD PART IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MY OPINION ON THE GAME ITSELF.

Okay, so I’ve mentioned vaguely how Persona 5 is my first encounter with the Persona series. I’d heard bits and pieces about the series but I never really understood the concept of Persona until maybe mid April of this year. I was on spring break from school and I don’t remember how exactly how I stumbled across it but i found this playthrough of Persona 5 on youtube and I was mildly interested. So I clicked on it, and into the emotional rollercoaster that is this game i went.

At the time, there was only about 11 episodes of the play through (each around an hour long) so I binged watched each episode ending up with me staying up past 2 am. I was just so invested. The opening drew me in the minute the camera showed off that smug little bastard Joker’s smirk over the casino (I’ll get into why I love this kid and the rest of the cast later). I was confused since I was going into Persona 5 with no knowledge of the whole concept of Personas at all. I was kinda just like “wow this looks badass. What is he doing? Oh my god, this game is so pretty.”

I ended up skipping around once I got tired of waiting for a new episode and watched this long ass livestream. I got to about Okumura’s Palace before there was nothing left for me to watch but the boss battles uploaded, which did spoil me a little bit and got me a bit confused but I was so interested that I honestly didn’t care. I was so surprised at Niijima’s Palace and her boss battle as a whole and was like “SHIT THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME!!!! OH MY GOD EVERYTHINGS BACK”

From there, I skipped straight to the traitor - aka Akechi’s battle - and can I just say, I was not surprised that he had a Persona but I was surprised that he betrayed the group considering all the story shit I skipped. Shido’s fight was fairly interesting to me but again, I skipped a bunch of story shit so I was really just rooting for the Phantom Thieves because this was THE ASSHOLE WHO GAVE MY POOR LITTLE AKIRA A CRIMINAL RECORD.

Skipped a bunch of shit again and onto the fight with Yaldobaoth. At this point I was drawing a lot of similarities to Xenoblade Chronicles, fighting a God for freedom and then THEY PULLED THE WHOLE BELIEF THINGY (which they did at the end of Okami as well) AT THE END WITH MISHIMA AND THE REST OF TOKYO BELIEVING IN THE THIEVES AND I WAS SOBBING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH AT 2 AM.

And after that, I made it a point that one day I’d play this game for myself. And it was maybe a few days after that I finally got the game.

Now at the time (and still now) I didn’t own a PS4 and was forced to use my brother’s when he was at work. Adding to the fact that school was beginning to start up again, I had at most maybe 6 hours to play a day if homework didn’t take up all my time. So what might’ve taken me a few weeks to beat took me almost 2 months to beat because of timing.

BUT OH WELL, I HAD THE GAME, I PLAYED THE GAME, I LOVED THE GAME AND NOW IM GOING TO SQUEAL LIKE A FANGIRL OVER EVERY ASPECT OF THIS GAME THAT I ADORED.

GAMEPLAY

Okay, so I’ve played my fair share of JRPGs and Persona 5 was a nice familiarity. All the dungeon crawling, the fighting, turn-base combat, ya’ll get it.

BUT UM THESE DUNGEONS (Palaces if you would) ARE FREAKING GORGEOUS, HELL THE GAME ITSELF IS GORGEOUS.

Each Palace and their respective Shadow ruler has their own design, personality and each are based on the seven deadly sins which (after finishing FullMetal Alchemist a few months earlier) I thought was clever and interesting.

Kamoshida’s castle was a nice balance of a first dungeon and “hey we’re not gonna hold your hand, this is fairly simply kill some Shadows, find the infiltration route and don’t get kicked out.” ALSO RYUJI AND ANN’S AWAKENINGS. JUST THAT. INCREDIBLE.

Madarame’s museum had a little bit more difficulty but was still fairly easy. The security bars kinda gave me a little anxiety considering I was still getting used to all the controls (I had just finished an Xbox One game before playing this so my buttons were mixed up) and the little painting guessing game was a bit dumb considering each Sayuri looked EXACTLY THE SAME TO ME (except the color swapped ones) ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING YUSUKE WAS THERE AND COULD HAVE EASILY TOLD US BUT NO HE WANTED TO TEST AKIRA’S ART SKILL. ARE YOU APART OF THE PHANTOM THIEVES OR NOT YUSUKE??????????

but i digress…

Kaneshiro’s bank was fun but GOD SEND THOSE FREAKING SECURITY CAMERAS AND THOSE SHADOW DOGS TO HELL OH MY GOD I HATED THOSE. See my thing is, I’m not exactly a stealthy person. Which is why I love hiding because you can sneak up on Shadows and ambush them easily. I hate raising security level and those damn dogs were so annoying and just ugh. Those dogs are honestly one of the few grips I have with the game. Also, MAKOTO IS THE ACTUAL QUEEN.

Futaba’s temple was by far the longest one for me in terms of gameplay hours (in game time took me about 2-3 days) but it was still fun nonetheless and I’m glad Futaba (who is one of my favorite female characters) got some closure on her story with her mother and was able to rise above that. I’m a sucker for tragic backstories when their well executed. (i still to this day do not know how to pronounce her Persona…)

Okumura’s spaceship was my favorite aesthetically because I’ve always been interested in space and the stars and the little puzzle at the end with the space pockets was a nice bit of challenging and flying through Metaverse space. ALSO HARU HAS FLUFFY FLUFF HAIR AND HAS MY SECOND FAVORITE PHANTOM THIEF OUTFIT

hmm, i wonder who has my favorite Phantom Thief outfit... Joker... It’s Joker... god damn those red gloves

Niijima’s casino, which OH MY GOD WERE BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND AKECHI’S WITH US AHH, and WHIMS OF FATE IS BEST PALACE THEME.

It was my favorite palace, no questions asked.

Shido’s ship was another long one but finally getting revenge on this dick was incredible. Also, AKECHI AND RYUJI PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS.

Mementos was a good idea as a whole but the way it was executed everything just sort of blended together for me and there were only a few requests that stood out to me. The music was bland (one of the blandest on the soundtrack, especially compared to the other Palace themes casually mentions Whims of Fates again) and during the late floors of Mementos, everything got so dark and it was really hard to see.

CHARACTERS

expect this to be me screaming a lot.

Akira Kurusu (Protagonist)

okay, um, i love this boy. like a lot. LIKE I WOULD DIE FOR HIM.

For a silent protagonist this guy sure has a lot of character. The rare times he speaks in cutscenes, specifically the ones where he’s Joker, he has this sort of cocky arrogance yet when he’s little Akira in his Shujin uniform he’s a quiet little curious boy. He’s incredible under pressure, like there’s only a few things that make him crack and his dialogue options are priceless.

I especially love Joker because I’m an honest to god mess when it comes to smug bastards and I have an unhealthy love for those crimson gloves of his.

But honestly he doesn’t deserve half the shit he gets in game. Besides the whole “game” set up by Yaldobaoth, he was sent away from his family and presumedly the friends he had back in his hometown all because of his probation, literally no one treats him with any sort of respect when he gets to Shibuya. Sojiro reminds him countless times the first what 3-4 months that he’ll be kicked out if he breaks his probation which (besides doing all that illegal shit as Phantom Thieves) he honestly just goes to school (a place where he gets even more shit from teachers and students), hangs out a little after and comes straight home. I know Akira’s been established to have a bad reputation because of his record but don’t these people have eyes??? Can’t they see that he’s obviously not a bad guy based on what he’s doing in school and not getting involved with the police??? Sojiro's exempt from this because he at least grows to like having Akira around and trusts him enough to go out at night, work in the store alone and lock up from him when he leaves.

AKIRA IS A GOOD BOY WHO DIDN’T DESERVE ALL THE SHIT GIVEN TO HIM

Also, Xander Mobus did a good ass job with his voice

Ryuji Sakamoto

see this post that basically sums up my feelings on this boy.

Also, Max Mittelman.

Ann Takamaki

CAN I JUST SAY ANN IS ONE OF THE BESTEST FRIENDS IVE EVER SEEN???????

Like she went through all that shit with Kamoshida, the harassment, possibly rape, all for freaking Shiho’s sake. Just… wow. That’s some freaking loyalty there. Shiho's the closest friend she has at Shujin (at least before the events of the game) and God knows how long she went along with Kamoshida’s bullshit all for Shiho. I mean I may sound a bit repetitive but holy shit that just amazes me. SHE. ENDURED. SEXUAL. HARASSMENT. ALL. FOR. HER. BEST. FRIEND. And the minute she watched Shiho’s suicide attempt that was it. Any last bit of restraint she had left broke and she went full on at Kamoshida all for revenge for her best friend. My god.

Onto her confidant ranks, Ann is just a charismatic bundle of joy who just wants to make people happy. Yeah she butted heads with that girl (forgot her name…) and did fall down a little in terms of confidence but Akira and Shiho helped her through it and brought her back on her path of what she wants to do… Just ugh, I love Ann so much.

Yusuke Kitagawa

Yusuke’s a fan favorite and for good reason.

His backstory about how Madarame took him in after his mom died and overlooked his painting which led to the later plagiarism is an interesting one and I love how the Sayuri, the only thing left to connect him to his mother, is an important factor that leads to his realization of “oh shit this guy’s a dick who watched my mom die without helping her and he used me for money and fame.”

As a character though, Yusuke’s freaking weird. But i love him because of it. He has his formal tongue but that formal tongue casually overlooks any weird shit that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t give any flying fucks about what people think of him and he speaks his mind like there’s no tomorrow. I still crack up at the nude painting scene with him and Ann because his mix of awkwardness and passion to paint a nice ass picture is just incredible. Also, another thing. He’s. So. Damn. Passionate. Like he ties art into everything, even fighting Shadows and he’s always looking for new ideas for paintings.

Also, Matt Mercer

Makoto Niijima

MAKOTO IS QUEEN.

She’s not my favorite female, that role goes to Futaba but she’s definitely number 2.

I genuinely have a love for the Niijima sisters because they complement each other so well. Sae’s the head of the house who also works tirelessly just to support her younger sister and it’s clear to see why Makoto would feel useless. She’s a high school student and as a student you really can’t do much that’ll pay the bills and keep food on the table unless you have a job which Makoto’s student council president and (i’m assuming) is in everything so it’d probably be hard as is to get a job and be of some sort of use to her sister. Then Kaneshiro comes around threatening her and Thieves and her sister and she just doesn’t want to feel useless anymore. She wants to do something after being forced to sit back and watch other people be counted on. And just, ugh, her awakening is by far my favorite out of all of them just because of everything behind it and just MAKOTO IS AMAZING, CASE CLOSED.

Also, Cherami Leigh.

Futaba Sakura

By far my favorite female as I feel our personalities are pretty damn similar. Besides her being a hacker and me not knowing anything about possibly illegal things like that, I relate to Futaba as she’s an introvert. She and I value our alone time and (although for different reasons) like being shut in. Now I’m not going to say Futaba and I share the same backstory because my God I’m honestly baffled how this girl went through years in solitude after her mother’s death thinking it was her fault. For one, she WATCHED HER MOTHER DIE IN FRONT OF HER. HOLY SHIT HOW DID THIS GIRL MANAGE TO FUNCTION WITH THAT MENTAL IMAGE IMPRINTED IN HER BRAIN???? AND THEN FOR YEARS ON END SHE LOCKED HERSELF UP AWAY FROM THE WORLD AND BEGAN HAVING ACTUAL PHYSICAL AND VERBAL HALLUCINATIONS AND IF IT WASNT FOR THE PHANTOM THIEVES SHE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE ENDED UP KILLING HERSELF AND I DONT WANT TO THINK OF A WORLD WITHOUT THIS ADORABLE LITTLE OTAKU.

also, i really ship her and Yusuke Inari

Haru Okumura

For one, Haru is freaking adorable, I mean look at her. She has the short little fluffy fluff hair and her voice is so light and feathery and polite and WHY DOES SHE COME SO LATE IN THE DAMN GAME????

I was lucky enough to manage to finish her confidant before the end of the game but when her confidant first opened up to me (getting rank 5 Proficiency was a bitch) at that point I was planning on not doing her confidant at all, I was just planning on getting Baton Pass and ditching her because I didn’t think I’d finish it. I did (at the cost of not finishing Makoto’s, still extremely disappointed on that) and I have to say Haru’s confidant was by far my favorite one out of the ones I maxed out.

Her whole thing is now that her father’s dead, she’s basically the one inheriting everything from Okumura Foods and she never really understood anything to begin with and she thinks everyone who’s trying to help her is just doing it for their own self-gain. Okumura Foods, at this point, is attempting to rise back up after all the shit her father put the company through and all the current bad reputation it has. Haru’s never had a chance in her life to make things for herself. She’s always been told what to do and has been very obedient (even agreeing to marry a literal dickhead all for her father’s company) and suddenly she’s given all control and doesn’t know what to do with it. All these happy smiling faces offering their help just seem like people attempting to take advantage of her incompetence. Akira helps her through it like the amazing boy that he is and Haru ends up finally being able to speak her mind about the company and what SHE wants to do. She gives the company up to someone who she believes is trustworthy and decides that she’ll one day open a small little cafe like Leblanc in the future after college. And honestly, just her overcoming her distrust and her previous shell of being obedient to rising up and making her own decisions it makes me so happy and proud to see her grow and change and just UGGH I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN CAST.

Morgana

This cat, literally this cat. HE BELONGS WITH AKIRA AND THE REST OF THE THIEVES NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

Loud-mouthed, a little bit arrogant, Morgana is just an amazing character in general for me. I know Ryuji’s technically supposed to be the comic relief (and he does fulfill this role, don’t get me wrong) but I feel Morgana takes this spot too, especially the two bickering like an old married couple. I know some people hate on Morgana because of how he treats Ryuji and the amount of “go to bed” memes on Tumblr but all around Morgana is just a cat who was just looking for a place to call home. He was just looking for people to accept him.

And a part of me honestly hopes if there’s an add on for this game in the future, Morgana gets a human form because I’d love to see that.

Also, please tell me I’m not the only one who still mixes up Morgana’s gender. I still sometimes call him a her just out of habit because I can’t hear Cassandra Lee Morris as anything but a girl.

Also, Cassandra Lee Morris.

Goro Akechi

OKAY SO CONTROVERSY??? MAYBE??

I LIKE AKECHI

NO FUCK THAT

I LOVE AKECHI

LIKE HONEST TO GOD THIS BOY DESERVED BETTER.

Don’t misunderstand, I know he killed people. I know he caused all those shutdowns and was planning on killing the Thieves and eventually Shido himself (which now begs the question, say he did kill Shido, what next?)

I’m not denying anything he did. And yes, his backstory (although extremely saddening) does not justify his actions. He knew what he was doing and he still did it.

Akechi took the wrong path in his life. If anything you can sort of compare his story to Futaba’s in the sense that they both lost family members and were left with nothing. In Futaba’s case however, she still had people trying to help her. She had Sojiro who took her in after her uncle was abusing her or something and she had the Thieves who literally changed her heart and made her see the truth.

Akechi had absolutely nobody.

His mom died (suicide if I remember correctly), he was thrown into foster care, his own father (seriously, fuck Shido. Not just because of how he was with Akechi but everything in this damn game) didn’t even knew he existed. He had no acknowledgement, no affection, nothing. He was forced to make do with what little scraps he could find and make a life for himself.

Again, don’t misunderstand me. I know he killed people and his backstory does not justify his actions because he knew what he was doing was wrong. I’m just saying maybe if he had someone, anyone who was there to help him out, to pull him out of his misery he most likely would have been a different person. He wouldn’t have had his revenge for Shido be his only reason for living and he wouldn’t have gone out the way he did. It’s hard not to feel bad for him. He’s been alone all his damn life and all this guy really wanted was a friend, some teammates, people who wanted him around. I just wish Akechi had gotten a way to repent. I hate the fact that he died. One because we lost a good character and two because I genuinely believe that he wanted to change at the end. Akira changed him. The Thieves changed him. I wish he had gotten an ending where he could own up to his mistakes and be able to make up for lost time.

Just… ugh.

I’m apart of the “Akechi deserved better” group.

And I also ship Akeshu really really really hard.

Also, Robbie Daymond was freaking fantastic.

VERDICT

THIS IS LONG ENOUGH SO LET ME SUM IT UP IN A SENTENCE.

PERSONA 5 IS AMAZING, I LOVED IT.

#ari speaks?#long post #persona 5 #tw #p5 spoilers #I honestly could write about this game all day #sorry for the long post #i needed to get this out #just i absolutely loved this game

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jesliey · 7 years

Text

Character Design Questions that i really just wanted to do because they looked fun

Tagged By: No one. I do what I want.

Most of my characters started in D&D but ill list em all for context:

Aliphos Gardwin, effectively ex-military Ranger from a what is now a frozen wasteland. Hes like a puppy in my eyes.

Anastasia Shepard, actual military. From my ME binge days. Probably the only one who’ll ever have an actual solid visual depiction

Alistair Shepard, twin brother to Ana. Technically not my character, but he punches things and hes such a dick i love it.

Unit 2038, mass produced celestial war machine with severely stunted emotional development. Had a REALLY long nap a while ago.

Firo Schwartzstein Avanezo, sleazy brat who likes to pickpocket and flirt. Closer inspection might catch a glimpse of some of that old money in his blood though.

Morgenstern, funny how dying from several impalement wounds makes a demonic deal for vengeance seem like a good idea. Might know Aliphos eventually im still pondering that...

Sacha Julian N’Doul, THE RICH PRETTYBOY IS JUST HERE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME

THIS IS REALLY LONG SO UNDER THE CUT IT GOES!

Who’s the oldest character of yours that you still use?

oh man i dont really use them as much as id want to...im not a great writer so i dont really do anything with any of them until something comes up like a d&d game for instance. Id still use all of them given the chance.

Aliphos is the one i can always fall back to though, ive had him the longest

Who’s the oldest character of yours, defunct or not?

Im gonna go ahead and assume this means physically. Pretty sure its Unit...either Unit or Firo. Ones a robot, and the other doesnt age, but i dont exactly remember whos older...

Pretty sure its Unit

Has creating a character ever made you realize something about yourself?

There hasnt been a “realization” per se...

Each character ive made has been some kind of manifestation of what i was feeling creatively at the time, with the exception of Aliphos. Hes straight up my first character who i made not realizing how self-inserty he was all the way back in grade 9 of highschool.

Any minor characters that have either taken over or branched off into their own stories?

See now this ones a bit more interesting because i didnt really have a side character until very recently. Sacha is a backup character for the wandering mess that is the party Morgenstern belongs to, and he acts as chief sponsor after they saved him from bandits. He isnt SUPPOSED to come into the spotlight of the adventure, but he will if Morgen becomes otherwise unavailable

Do you prefer to make human, animal, monster, or _____ characters? Why?

Well i mean “human” is very loosely defined here but yeah. These are characters i know and relate to best and im not a furry, so “human” it is!

ignoring the fact that only four of them are actual humans, and one of those four isnt even mine

When creating a character, do you come up with the visual concept or the written concept first?

written concepts, easily. when im sitting down trying to make a new brain-child theres a list of questions that goes through my head to get a better idea of what im going for.

where did they come from? what is the most important thing that has happened to them this far? how do they react to waking up on just a regular day? what is the most common thing they feel both physically and mentally? how do they handle being in a group of other similarly skilled people?

i find that answering just these gives me a better idea of what im working with than trying to get a picture going before having at it

Do you have characters that you know you’ll never use, but can’t bear to get rid of/recycle?

Im honestly having a hard time envisioning using Ana anywhere. shes a bit of an alcoholic downer, and she doesnt play well with others. Morgen doesnt either, but hes currently in use and even then i have to creatively stretch his personality quite a bit just to keep things rolling

i dont like the idea of just getting rid of characters though. a few of them have died. multiple times in some cases. continuities are a thing that doesnt really exist for me, but it is hard to find a scenario where those two in particular would click in well

Is there a character that embodies your good traits, or traits you wish you had?

Aliphos is generally up-beat most of the time, and Firo and Sacha love a good time more than anything else. in general, theyre my more happy characters and i like holding onto that.

Is there a character that embodies your bad traits? Several characters? Which ones and what traits?

Ana and Morgen are definitely some pretty negative characters at their cores. Morgen less so simply because i felt like i was in a bit of a creative rut and i wanted to try something new, but Anastasia came around back at the end of highschool during the Depression Years™ and it shows...

Morgens definitive characteristics are nonchalant detachment and disdain and anger, where Ana is a depressed alcoholic with a death complex. Theres nothing happy here.

Is there a character that explores your interests or fetishes (orrrr is that just all of you characters)?

The most interesting things i can do with my characters is something that i think is unexpected of myself. I had Ali for YEARS before i tried making another character, and while it was fun making a new one, she boiled down to a drunk depressed version of what came before. The more varied and exploratory i can get with my characters the better.

One of my best experiences with a character was developing Unit. I played out the inner conflict of realizing you are able to take a hold of personal freedom now that you know you can have it while simultaneously not wanting to because youre still holding onto the faith that the higher powers know whats best and you should still be awaiting further instruction. those instructions would never come, and Unit is just another forgotten soldier stuck fighting the war, but it was SO MUCH FUN to play out the moral dilemma and ponder the philosophy! that was such a new experience for me, and i loved it! so i made a point to try and spice it up with whatever i try and make next

If you have characters that embody certain traits of yours—good or bad—has writing them changed how you view those traits? Has it affected you in any way?

In truth? not particularly. i just sorta vomit ideas out onto my characters and whatever sticks sticks. i pay no real mind as to what those ideas mean. its just fun to me.

Do you fantasize about being any of your characters, or are you more detached?

Oh there is no way i can play a character and stay detached...

When im in it? Im in it.

Do you create playlists for your characters?

HELL YEAH I DO. SPOTIFY iS A BEAUTIFUL THiNG.

When writing for specific characters, is there anything you have to do to get into the right mindset?

I will ask myself all the same questions from above as when i come up with the character design, i listen to their playlist if i made one yet, and i picture whatever it was that they just got through experiencing.

a quick crash course refresher on how this character ticks.

Which character is your guilty pleasure?

Oh Sacha easily....hes the first character i think ive made where his entire backstory is hes from a rich family and he likes to try new things. Theres no intricacy here, hes just a simple start to a character and hes fon loving. Hes super refreshing to play around with.

Is there a character of yours who’s a real struggle to write/draw? Why do you think that is?

Award for hardest to work with is probably going to Firo. I just wasnt as invested into making him as i have been for other characters. When i think of characters id like to play around with, hed be on the bottom of the list purely because he has the least amount of my interest

Which character is the easiest to draw/write?

The self insert. Next question.

Is there anything you really wish you could do, character-design-wise, that you feel is outside your current skillset? A concept that you wish you could pull off but are uncertain about?

BRO LITERALLY EVERYTHING. I love coming up with the concepts and flushing them out as i go along, but i am not the greatest at writing and they all just sorta stay in my head. also i cant draw. its a bad time for everyone involved.

What’s more important to you: visual design, unique personality, a trendy character aesthetic, etc? If you’re not sure, then what’s the first thing you usually nail down in a character?

well the first thing i always nail down when i think id like to entertain the thought of a character is their origin. so in a way i guess the aesthetic? though as i said above i like to keep things anything but trendy

Do you ever plan to do anything (comic, animation, etc) with your characters? Or are you just happy to have them?

dude i would love to make something big out of my characters! the problem becomes then that i would need someone who is as in sync with how i perceive my characters to be artistically inclined with, because god knows i cant do shit out here. until that day arises? in my head they stay.

#long post #characters #character building #character design #ill rebagel it and tag a bunch of people later

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spartanguard · 8 years

Text

two booksellers of storybrooke

Summary: Emma Swan has two problems: 1. Killian Jones, the annoying co-owner of the bookstore across the street from her own (just how many book shops did one small town need?); and 2. The fact that she may or may not be falling in love with the same Killian Jones. The course of true love never did run smooth, did it?

A/N: It's finally here! My GFSS fic for @ive-always-been-a-pirate! Thank you for your patience, Morgan, as this story completely ran away from me and is now the longest one-shot I've ever done. But it was a lot of fun to work on and hopefully you enjoy it, too! Thanks to MFAMB @kat2609 for beta'ing—you helped a ton, my love.

Note: numbers in brackets indicate Shakespeare quotation/paraphrase; the citations follow the story.

ff.net | AO3 | 16k (damn)

PROLOGUE

He was charming. He was attractive. He was intelligent.

But he was also infuriating. And arrogant. And something of a Casanova.

And he was right across the street.

(Yet, loathe as she was to admit it, she was probably halfway in love with him.)

(But only half.)

(The course of true love never did run smooth, [1] did it?)

ACT 1

It started—as all good stories do—with a clandestine meeting.

She couldn’t help but wonder whose bright idea it was to have an open bar at a conference dedicated to children’s books. Emma Swan had never seen so many drunk school librarians in her life, and it was beyond amusing—though that may have been exacerbated by the fact that she, too, had imbibed her fair share of drinks, and was presently laughing to herself over one particular lady in cat-eyed glasses doing shots with a younger woman in a cat sweater.

The guy next to her was laughing, too, but he certainly did not fit the mold: dark, disheveled hair; mischievous blue eyes; and a button-up shirt that was missing the top few, showing off some glorious (if she said so herself) chest hair.

“And what are you laughing at?” she wondered, probably a bit too loudly.

“You.”

“That’s rude,” she slurred, teasingly.

“No. I love your laugh. I’d quite like to hear it some more.”

“Well, then, you’d just have to make me.”

“And how would one do that?”

She hummed. “Give me your best book-related pickup line.”

He stared at her for a moment, starry-eyed, before the corner of his mouth ticked up into a smirk. “I hope you don’t consider me too forward, but I enjoy your preface.”

She laughed.

They kissed.

And then did some other stuff back in his room.

And, as usual, she ducked out early in the morning, not even knowing his name, but unable to shake those laughing blue eyes from her head.

ACT 2

It continued on a seemingly innocuous afternoon in a sleepy little town.

A bell jingled, indicating that Storybrooke’s cute little bookshop, Happily Ever Afters, had customers. Emma was in the back, adding to their stock of classic literature (and desperately ignoring the deep chuckle that rang in her head from time to time), while her business partner/best friend/foster sister Mary Margaret Blanchard was manning the counter in the front. Her son, Henry, had his nose in a book in the shop’s designated reading and storytime section, sprawled across a few dark green beanbag chairs that matched the canopy of fake leaves overhead in their indoor forest.

Emma smirked when she heard the way Mary Margaret greeted their visitors; it was the brunette’s signature “you’re very hot and I don’t know how to handle it” voice. Very little fazed the woman, an eternal optimist who had been a kindergarten teacher for a few years before they opened up shop, but every now and then, there was a guy who threw her off.

Emma typically could not say the same—as proven by the fact that she was only 28 years old and had a 10-year-old son whose father was long gone. She generally had a hard time seeing things through her friend’s rose-colored glasses, but she tried for Henry’s sake, and, if the smile presently on his face was any indication, it seemed to be working. Men, though? No way.

(Though if she could stop smiling whenever she thought about the way a certain nameless dark-haired Englishman had moved above and below her, it would probably be easier to keep it that way.)

All in all, they had a pretty damn good thing going. Their shop was well-liked, they made a decent living, and they’d set up roots with their friends here in town—something Emma had hardly ever done before coming to live with the Blanchards when she was 15. There had been times she wished for a bit more in the way of companionship, but Henry’s father had done a pretty good job of reminding her why that wasn’t in the cards for her, and she’d reluctantly accepted that. One-night stands were as far as she went; the fact that she couldn’t seem to mentally shake the last one was even further proof of why that was the safest plan.

Up at the front, she could hear Mary Margaret awkwardly conversing with a customer, but footsteps indicated another was approaching. Turning to the sound, she automatically went into retail mode: “Can I help you find anyth…”

She trailed off when she met the blue eyes staring back at her—the same eyes that had been dancing through her dreams for a month now. Eyes that were now staring back at her with equal recognition. Well, they had been, but they quickly turned down, and he reached up to scratch the back of his head in a motion that was somehow a combination of bashful, embarrassed, and—was that coy?

“Um...hi,” she said shyly, stealing a glance at Henry to make sure he was still occupied.

“Hello, love,” was his equally awkward reply, before he offered his hand. “I don’t believe I caught your name?”

That was one of her rules: to never give her name to a one-night stand; she’d worked long enough in bail bonds before opening the shop to know well enough the power of a name. And it was pretty inconceivable that she’d run into another attendee of a conference in Boston later in their small Maine town. But this time, it was just embarrassing.

He was still waiting for her reply, extended hand faltering. “Uh, Emma. Emma Swan,” she finally blurted out, gently shaking his hand.

“Killian,” he introduced back; if she thought she’d liked his accent before, its lilt as he said his name made it even more ridiculously hot. “It’s quite a lovely shop you’ve got here.” The charm that first attracted her to him was in full swing.

“Thanks.” Despite his seemingly warm greeting, tension hung over them as thick as War and Peace. She swallowed and started, “Um, about Boston…”

“It’s fine, love,” he interrupted, with a wave of the hook he wore in place of a left hand (she had almost forgotten about it—it certainly didn’t hinder him). “You’re not the first lass who’s run out on a shared night. But at least I’ve had the pleasure of finding you again.”

She would have blushed, but there was something slightly aloof in his tone—like he wanted to be genuine, but had an ulterior motive. So she ignored that and went back to her first question: “Was there anything I could help you find?”

You idiot; he clearly knows his way around a bookstore—why else would he have been at a freaking book conference? She mentally berated herself as he turned his attention back to the leather-bound tomes on the shelves. “I was just observing your Shakespeare collection. You don’t have Romeo and Juliet.”

“Were you looking for it?” Doesn't every book nerd already have it? He didn’t exactly strike her as the romantic tragedy type...but what did she know about him, anyway?

“But come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight,” [2] he quoted, and she might have swooned a bit were it not for the cocky edge to his recitation. “No; just an observation. In fact, you don’t seem to have any of Shakespeare’s tragedies.”

She snorted. “Didn’t you see the name out front? We only deal in happy endings.” It was true—despite the fairytale-like theme of the store, they had a wide variety of genres, but there was one rule: it had to have a happy ending.

“Well, that hardly seems realistic.”

“Who said it had to be?”

“Life isn’t always happy.”

Preaching to the choir, bro. But since he was determined to antagonize her, she mustered all of the power of a Mary Margaret hope speech. “No, so why should we go out of our way to find more unhappiness?”

“You don’t quite believe that, do you?” he assessed, taking a step closer. She gulped a bit, off put by how well he could read her.

“Did you come here to shop or to perform a psychological assessment?” He just smirked again in reply—an answer she was kind of beginning to loathe—and reached up to the shelf above her head, pulling down a book, only breaking eye contact once it was in hand.

“Love’s Labour’s Lost,” he read aloud. “Sounds about right.” He turned away, and headed back to the front of the store and out of sight. She heard him make the purchase and the door bell jingle as he and his friend left.

Mindlessly, she went back to shelving books. The mundane task let her brain attempt to sort out just what the hell had happened, but she came to no conclusions. Why would a one-night stand show up out of the blue, in her tiny town, and try to flirt-slash-argue books with her? She racked her brain for any other interactions of theirs at that conference, but other than recalling seeing him in a session on independent book stores, she came up blank.

Once she was done, she collapsed the box and headed up to the front of the store. Mary Margaret was dreamily organizing the bookmark display, only pulled from her happy haze when Emma roughly shoved the box in the too-small trash can.

“You okay, Emma?” she asked.

“Oh, wonderful,” she grumbled, and watched her friend’s brow furrow in concern. She hated to be the one to ruin Mary Margaret’s good mood. “You seem happy, though.”

The soft smile returned to Mary Margaret’s face. “Yes, we just had the most charming customer.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma’s mood improved at seeing her friend’s glee. Must have been Killian’s (now that she knew his name) friend. “Did you get his number?”

Mary Margaret blushed a bit. “No, but he said he’d be back. Do you think he will?”

Despite the oddity of their entire exchange, Emma had only one answer for her friend:

“I hope so.”

A few weeks later, the beep of a truck woke Emma. She glanced at her clock; 7 am on a Saturday was way too early to be up. Grumpily, she shuffled out of bed and went to the window that looked down over Main Street from her apartment above the shop. On the other side of the road, a moving van was backing up at the vacant shop space across the way. “Sucks to be them,” she muttered, before wandering off in search of coffee. There had been a rotation of businesses in that space and she had no reason to believe that would change.

Later that day, around lunchtime, their friend Ruby came over with their lunch orders from her grandmother’s diner.

“Did you guys hear? The shop across the street was finally rented out!”

“How is that news, Ruby? There's something new in there every six months,” Emma scoffed while cleaning up a display. They'd seen a salad restaurant, a clothing store, even a video rental (with a rather extensive, um, adult section) come and go just in the past year alone. And she was still a bit bitter that they’d woken her up so early.

“Yeah, but did you see who’s in charge of this one?” The accompanying leer, paired with Ruby’s trademark wolfish grin with her tongue between her teeth, could only mean one thing: serious eye candy.

Emma and Mary Margaret both stilled in the middle of what they were doing and met the other’s eye across the counter, where Mary Margaret had going over some papers. Ruby never made a big deal out of nothing, so whoever was moving in across the street was certainly worth a second glance.

Henry was upstairs playing a videogame, so Emma didn’t have to worry about him spying on her potential leering (he knew she was an adult, and did adult things, but she tried to keep that from him as much as possible). The girls slipped toward the windows, where Ruby had already found something of a perch, leaning across the permanent Harry Potter display. The other two filed in alongside her, attempting to look busy lest anyone notice their ogling.

At first, they didn’t see anything; but movement from the open end U-Haul caught their attention, and two men began to maneuver a short bookshelf down the ramp.

And when Emma saw who it was, her heart began to race—out of excitement or fear, she hadn’t determined.

Which only gave her one possible response: “Shit!” she muttered under her breath, drawing the attention of her friends who had been happily ogling.

“What?” Ruby asked, scooching closer because she could tell there was a story there.

Emma whispered, “So, umm...I may have kind of happened to have slept with one of those guys a month or so ago…”

“Girl!! You didn't tell me! When?” Ruby whisper-yelled.

“It was just a one-night stand when I had that overnight trip to Boston.”

“I thought that you were at a children’s book conference!”

“I was!” She furrowed her brow then. “Wait a minute...is that a bookshelf?”

Three sets of eyes turned back to the scene across the street. The guys had set the shelf down on the sidewalk for a moment, panting in the unseasonable early May heat with sweat plastering their shirts to their (well-defined) chests. And...it definitely looked like a fixture for holding books.

“Dammit, no!” Her exclamation made the other girls jump, and pulled Mary Margaret from her reverie of staring at Killian’s friend. But she’d just put the pieces together and wasn’t happy. “They’re opening a bookstore.”

“How do you know?” Mary Margaret wondered innocently.

“Like I said, I met him at a book conference. He was in some of the same sessions as me.”

“Huh, David didn’t say anything about that when they were here,” the brunette mused.

“No, but he said he’d see you soon.”

“Oh...yeah.”

Emma was fuming. So had he just come in to do some recon or something? Play the flirt card so she’d be thrown off his actual motives?

Not wasting another moment, she practically ran out of the store, hardly checking for traffic as she ran across the divided boulevard that was Main Street to where the guys were just about to move the shelf inside.

“Really?” she shouted, not bothering to deal with proper greetings.

“Hello, love,” he said, because apparently he would bother with those. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Kill the act, Prince Charming. Are you seriously opening a bookstore across the street from mine?”

“Well, actually, David here is usually the one known as Prince Charming. People tend to refer to me as Captain Hook,” he replied with a wave of his prosthetic. “And yes, we are opening a bookshop, but have no fear: your lovely little establishment won’t be harmed by ours.”

His smile back at her was something between cocky and challenging. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not, but that was neither here nor there. “How can it not affect us? We’re both selling books.”

“Oh, but you said it yourself: you only deal with happy endings. We don’t limit ourselves in that regard.” He took a few swaggering steps forward as he spoke, thoroughly invading her space.

Her chest heaved, and she didn’t care to think if it was due to anger or arousal. “So what, if we don’t have it, you will? Is that your plan?”

“And vice versa. It really works out quite well for the both of us.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or punch away the smug look on his face, and he was well within range for either.

“Was that recon work you were doing when you came in our shop?” she spat accusingly.

“More like becoming familiar with the neighborhood. And we found we rather liked it.” The way he popped the ‘t’ was downright sinful and loaded with challenge. And she was more than capable of seeing that he got one.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” she threw back, ending the conversation. She turned on her heel and headed back across the street, not looking back to see his reaction. She liked to imagine his face fell, the smirk melting right off—but something told her it just made him grin all the harder (and something else told her she didn’t mind).

“Well?” Mary Margaret asked when Emma came back into their store followed by a jarring clang of the bell.

“Yeah, it’s a bookstore.”

“Oh.” The way her friend’s eyes fell showed conflicting emotions—no doubt happy to see more of the man who had caught her attention, but was it worth the risk of her livelihood? “So what are we going to do?”

“Hang out our banners on the outward walls.” [3]

“What does that mean?” Ruby wondered.

“It means we don’t go down without a fight.”

Of course, it would be easier to fight if they actually wanted to defeat their foes.

It started small: one day, a box arrived in their normal shipment of books, but Emma was confused when she opened it: it was full of copies of Macbeth, Hamlet, and other Shakespearean tragedies. “We didn’t order this,” she muttered to herself, and then checked the address label to make sure it was addressed to them.

It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. There in black ink: “Killian Jones, Shore Leaves Books”, but written above their address. She groaned, knowing that 1. He’d probably done that on purpose; and 2. She was the one who’d have to lug that heavy-ass box across the street.

Begrudgingly, she loaded the box onto a dolly and dragged it over, throwing the door of the boys’ store open with a bit more force than was probably necessary.

“Oi! Watch it, you…” Killian’s voice started from the back, preceding his appearance, but he trailed off when he stepped out from an aisle and saw who it was. “Oh. You’re not Dave.”

“No, I’m not. So I really shouldn’t be receiving your books, should I?” She gestured to the box, annoyed.

“Sorry about that, love; must have been a clerical error.” From his tone—and the fact that she could spot a lie a mile away—she knew it was no mistake that she ended up with his merchandise.

“Well, then, you need to hire a new secretary. Or get glasses or something.”

“Are you saying I’d look fetching in glasses?”

She quickly pushed back the image of Clark Kent that popped up in her head. “No; your ego seems to be big enough as it is. I’d hate to add to it.”

He walked over to where she stood at the front of the shop and bent to flip open a flap on the box with his hook, perusing the contents. “Oh, this is definitely not your cup of tea, Swan.” He glanced up at her from his hunched-over position through his impossibly long lashes, with mischief in his eyes.

“If that was a passive-aggressive comment on our book selection, it’s not going to change a thing.”

“Didn’t think it would,” he assented, standing back up and reading for the handle of the dolly. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll just take this to the back. Wait a moment, will you?” There was something surprisingly genuine in his request, so she had to grant it.

“You have my dolly.” (She didn’t have to let him know she’d caught his rare moment of sincerity...or grant him one of her own.) He smiled back, a bit softer than usual, and tilted the dolly to pull it away.

While he was gone, she glanced around the shop: it was actually really, really nice. They’d seen woodworkers coming in and out, and it showed: the floor was a gorgeous, light-and-dark striped hardwood that matched the varying colors of polished shelving along the walls and aisles. The shelves she’d watched them move in were placed around the shop as movable displays, and the counter was a large, intricately carved desk with a ship’s wheel mounted on the front. She knew it was a nautical-themed store, based on the name, and there was all kind of ocean-related decor in the nooks and crannies that weren’t filled with books, and it really worked.

She wandered over to the wheel, pushing on it out of curiosity; it actually turned. She could see any number of small children having the time of their lives with it, but also could imagine Killian as a ship’s captain, manning the helm, the wind whipping his sea spray-soaked hair…

“That actually came off a 19th-century whaling ship.” Killian’s voice made her jump and interrupted her fantasy, frantically grabbing at the spinning wheel to stop it.

He chuckled at her reaction as he slipped around the other side of the counter. He grabbed a business card from the holder on the desk and flipped it over before setting it down, pulling a pen from a cup, and writing on the back of it. When he was done, he handed it to Emma face-up. “Here is the shop number, should any of our merchandise make its way to you again.” The way the corner of his mouth ticked up implied that it would. Then, with a deft twist of his fingers, he flipped it around. “And here is my number, in case you’d prefer a more personal pick-up.” His tongue quickly traced his lower lip before that ever-present smirk reclaimed his features.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes before tearing the card out of his hand. “Thanks, but like I said: get some glasses.”

“I thought you didn’t want that?” he teased back.

“I...um...whatever,” she sputtered back, caught. “Thanks. See you,” she said quickly and dashed out of the store. She was nearly hit by Ruby’s Mustang when she tried to run across the street, doing her best to quickly get away from Killian.

She was in the median when his voice called back to her. “Love, you forgot this.” She turned to see him jogging her way with the dolly, careful to look both ways before he crossed the one-way street (show off). “Wouldn’t want to forget that, now, would you?”

“Nope. Thanks.” The pavement was looking particularly interesting, she thought; better to stare at that than those too-blue eyes that were probably laughing at her right now.

He paused, awkwardly, as if he was working up the nerve to say something, and he finally spit it out: “You know, most men would find your silence off-putting, but...I love a challenge.”

That finally made her look up, only to see him staring back with an eyebrow raised. Enough was enough; she’d rebuked all the flirting she possibly could for one day. She turned and dragged the dolly with her this time, shouting over he shoulder, “Thanks again!”

“Anytime!” was the reply, and she got the feeling that meant more along the lines of next week or tomorrow.

It was actually two weeks later—two weeks of him winking at her from the other side of the street, which she replied to by rolling her eyes; two weeks of sitting on the opposite side of the diner from him when she ate there with Henry; two weeks of that card burning a hole in her pocket until she finally just stuck it in a drawer (in her bedroom next to some of her adult things but that was neither here nor there)—when they received another box that should have gone across the street, this time filled with Moby Dick and a lot of Hemingway. She pulled her cellphone from her pocket; at some point, after a long day and too much wine, she’d put the shop number in her contacts; she hadn’t imbibed quite enough to put his personal number in.

It rang a couple times before being picked up. “Shore Leaves, come here for your next adventure. This is Killian; how may I help you?”

“I’ve got an adventure for you. It’s called coming across the street to get your box.”

“Ah, hello, Swan. Did another package make its way over there?” There was nothing surprised in his tone, and when she stepped out from behind the counter, she could see him leaning on theirs and looking across at her. (Smirking, of course. There had to be another word for that right? She made a mental note to grab a thesaurus when this was over.)

“Yes, it did, and I’m not bringing it to you. Come here.” She hung up before he could counter that, but watched as he set the phone down. That wasn’t...was that a hint of disappointment she saw on his face? No, no way—he was just squinting in the sun. That had to be it.

Their bell jangled a couple minutes later, and in he came, cocky front firmly in place. “What’s it today, love? Julius Caesar?”

“The Old Man and the Sea.”

“Ah, my biography.”

She couldn’t help it: she laughed.

“Now there’s a sound I’ve missed,” he said gently as she placed the box in his wagon (because apparently that was what you used to moved around merchandise in a nautical-themed bookstore). Once it was securely situated, she glanced up at him—there was a soft look in his eyes, one that she hadn’t seen since the night they hooked up. Actually, the same look that had made her run in the first place: like how she imagined Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth Bennett, once they got over their issues. It was thrilling, but also terrifying, because she knew that opening herself up to that just meant that her heart could be broken again.

As if on cue, the moment was interrupted by Ruby barging in the front door. “Emma! You wouldn’t believe...oh. Hey there.” It was pretty impressive how Ruby could go from gossip to flirt in a heartbeat, and Emma had never been more thankful for it, or the way her friend was clearly undressing Killian with her eyes (but his skinny jeans and button up looked pretty good on, too).

“What’s up, Rubes?” She leaned away from Killian to get a better look at Ruby, effectively ending the conversation.

“Right then; I’ll see you two around.” Killian scratched behind his ear awkwardly with his hook as he left the store, pulling the wagon behind him to the sound of the girls’ murmured goodbyes.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I totally cockblocked you,” Ruby apologized once the door shut behind him.

“Can you actually cockblock a girl?” Emma deflected.

“Yes, you can. Or were you too busy doing it to yourself?”

Damn Ruby’s intuition.

Of course, boxes came to Happily Ever After on a fairly regular basis after that. It got to the point that the Shore Leaves number was in their desk phone’s speed dial. Emma wasn’t sure if it was infuriating or cute that David seemed to come by for them just as often as Killian did, and he always got a blush out of Mary Margaret.

“Quit flirting with the enemy, Blanchard,” Emma would tease.

“And just what is it you’re doing?” Mary Margaret threw back.

Emma didn’t have an answer.

ACT 3

In the weeks after the boys’ shop’s grand opening—sometime between the second and third mis-delivered parcel—Emma was acutely aware of every time Shore Leaves’ door swung open, especially whenever someone left with a bag (or worse, one of their custom tote bags with the image of an old sailing ship on it, like the one that had recently taken up residence in the marina).

She wasn’t about to just sit around and let them steal her livelihood. And she was long overdue for a rewatch of You've Got Mail.

All's fair in love and war, right? Emma was quite prepared for the latter, but the former seemed to have it out for her as well.

“Bye Mom!” Henry was out the door before Emma could even register that he was leaving, but that wasn’t unusual for a Saturday afternoon. He had a phone and knew that he had to be home by dinner; plus, the perk to living in a small town was that everyone looked out for everyone else.

What was weird was the lack of foot traffic entering the shop across the street. There was plenty coming in and out of theirs—almost above average, actually. Something was up.

During a lull not long before dinner, Emma went out, citing the need for fresh air. She walked down the street a bit, away from her store, before crossing the street and coming back to peek into Shore Leaves.

To her surprise, it was closed. Who closes on a Saturday?? But there was a sign in the window: Sailing for Adventure: Boat Safety and Tales of the Sea, Storybrooke Marina, Saturday 12-6, with a photo of an old-timey ship and some nautical drawings. She’d actually seen them around town for the past week, but considering her avoidance of this shop had also included all things maritime, she hadn’t paused to read it.

Checking her phone, she saw that it was only 4:30, and the sun was still high in the sky; may as well check it out.

A slightly cool breeze was coming off the ocean once she got to the docks, making Emma wish she hadn’t left her leather jacket at home. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the event was happening when she arrived; there, on that old-fashioned ship that had recently taken up residence, was a throng of people—mostly tweens—scattered across the deck, watching a man give a speech while practically hanging from the rigging.

She should have known who exactly it was, but she couldn’t quite tell until she got closer and heard his distinctive voice over the lap of waves.

“Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course.”

Emma vaguely recognized the recitation as from The Tempest, but she didn’t think Shakespeare had quite envisioned this when it was written.

“A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office.”

Killian was gesticulating wildly with his hand, while his hook—an actual hook, like full-on pirate, not his usual prosthetic—held him to one of the ropes of the rigging.

“Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink?” [4]

All the kids were paying rapt attention to him, and she noticed that so were a number of moms—it was hard not to when he was wearing a barely-buttoned red brocade vest with leather pants and boots under a full-length leather duster. It was like he’d been torn off the cover of a bad romance novel. She could picture it in her head: some contrived title like The Pirate and the Princess, with some scantily-clad, buxom maiden in a buff pirate’s arms, wrapped around him and one hand in his thick chest hair…

Emma shook her head. That’s not why she was here, dammit. She could see a few bookshelves set up near the ship's helm, and David stood at the ready with a card reader and a tablet, but Killian seemed to be running the show. She couldn’t deny that he was giving a great performance, either. All too soon, it was over with a flamboyant bow, and the crowd dispersed to other activities.

When she finally dared to set foot on deck, Killian was showing some boys how to tie sailors knots and David was ringing up purchases of what looked like sea-related tales, like Treasure Island and 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Emma knew they’d have to do something soon to keep up; it was a good thing Mary Margaret was an expert event planner.

Glancing back over at Killian, she saw that he was deep in conversation with a familiar mop of dark hair: Henry. Knowing her kid, he was probably giving Killian the full inquisition; she was debating rescuing the poor guy from her hyper-curious son before Henry got too invasive, but Henry saw her before she got the chance.

“Mom! Come look what Killian taught us!”

Henry was always eager to show her new things he learned and she was always more than happy to see them. Growing up in the foster system, no one really cared one way or the other how she did academically; the Blanchards, to their credit, had tried, but she was too far gone at that point. Living in less-than-stellar homes was when she found reading as an escape tool, though, which helped when she found herself knocked up in juvie (where, oddly enough, someone finally cared about her education and she got her GED). So she made a point to encourage Henry’s desire for knowledge on all things.

“Whatcha got, kid?” She stepped behind him to look over his shoulder, and to help her ignore the way Killian was looking at her.

“It's a...um, what did you say it was, Killian?”

“A round turn and two hitches,” he explained gently.

“Did I do it right?”

“Almost.” Without hesitation, Killian knelt to instruct Henry with the last bit of the knot. As if her ovaries weren't already on the verge of exploding just from his outfit, watching the caring way he helped her son was sure to do the job.

“Excellent job, lad!” Killian cheered with a pat on Henry’s shoulder before standing up again and sidling up to Emma. “That's a charming boy you have, Swan, but I’d no idea you had a son.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You've seen me with him around town.”

“Aye, but I figured he was your younger brother.”

There it was. “Ah, so you're going the flattery route.”

He winked. “But honestly, Swan, there's no way—”

“I was 17,” she interrupted tersely, looking down. The downside to living in a small town: everyone also knew that, but the disapproving looks had at least dissipated over time. But she suddenly found herself fearing his, and cautiously glanced up at him through her lashes.

To her surprise, the look on his face was empathetic. “I see.” And for a moment, she could swear she saw something similar in his gaze—something resembling the past hurt she'd endured. “He's brilliant, love.”

She couldn't help but smile and blush at his genuine compliment; that was exactly what any young single mother wanted to hear—that she was doing something right.

Maybe, just maybe, Killian Jones wasn't so bad.

Or maybe he'd open his mouth again and ruin the moment.

“And he clearly has excellent taste in the company with which he should spend an afternoon.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Guess I need to remind him about talking to strangers.”

“I'd hardly think you'd call me a stranger, Swan,” he said darkly, leaning in. She felt herself flush, but wasn't sure if it was due to what he was insinuating or her proximity to his exposed chest (actually, probably both—she hadn't forgotten how the coarse hair felt under her fingertips).

“Well, you're definitely strange, then. Who owns a full pirate outfit?” she threw back, gesturing at his getup.

“Why, the same kind of man who owns a pirate ship, love,” he answered matter-of-factly, with a sweep of his arm across the deck.

“Seriously?”

“Aye.”

It was another of those moments that gave her a glimpse of Killian Jones—the real one, not the one who used his bravado to hide behind walls that were surely as tall and thick as her own. He was smiling softly at her, and she was returning the gesture. Maybe her fantasy wasn't so far from reality here.

“Really, Killian? Do you take it sailing? Can we go sometime?” Leave it to her son to interrupt a moment of sincerity. But Killian’s tone didn't change.

“Aye, lad; if it's alright with your mother.”

“Mom, Mom, can we?”

“We’ll see,” she answered, laughing at her son’s enthusiasm. “But first, we’ve gotta get dinner. Come on; get your stuff.”

Henry dashed off to get his backpack from wherever he had left it, leaving Emma alone with Killian, who turned toward her after watching Henry run away. “I do mean it, Swan; my ship is available to you should ever desire it.” The lack of innuendo told her it wasn't just his ship he was referring to. “You still have my number, right?”

“Yeah,” she blurted out, before realizing what she'd just admitted.

He smirked. “Thought so.” She flushed again, and wondered if it was possible to flush so hot that she could will her nightstand to combust. “Don't be afraid to use it.”

She could only nod, not trusting her tongue anymore, before turning to leave and join Henry where he waited at the gangplank.

How Killian managed to bring up her full spectrum of emotions in just a few minutes was nearly inconceivable to her. She needed to keep that in check. As a reminder of that, she noticed the number of women buying books on the ship, and was sure it had everything to do with the man on the deck. She swallowed the surge of jealousy that flared up, and assured herself that it had everything to do with business and nothing to do with her feelings towards him. Nope, not at all.

Whether or not what she was telling herself was true, it did strengthen her resolve in something else: it was time to plan their own event that put this one to shame.

Thankfully, the weather held out for their beach reads event—July in Maine was unpredictable, especially when you were holding said event actually on the beach. But everything was going off without a hitch: people seemed to love their selection of light summer reads (a well-rounded mix of classics, modern fiction, and a good number of romance novels); Granny was doing good business with the grill she’d brought down; and everyone was having fun with the limbo and beach volleyball they'd set up.

Emma laughed as she watched Henry and his friends splash around in the gentle waves coming off the North Atlantic, and even though this was a work event, the feel of the warm sun on her skin almost gave the impression of being on vacation.

She was reapplying her sunblock when she noticed Killian’s ship sail into view, headed back to the marina, and that now-familiar pang of jealousy twinged in her stomach. She hoped he saw what they had going on here, and told herself that it was because she wanted him to feel the pressure...but there was a just-as-loud voice in her head that wanted him to come by.

About an hour later, he did, with David in tow. Next to her, Mary Margaret stood just a bit straighter; Emma would have teased her had she not done the exact same thing. For the first time that day, she felt self-conscious in her (deliberately chosen yet relatively modest) red bikini top and tropical sarong. What if he thinks I'm coming on too hard? Or not at all? Wait, why am I worried what he thinks?

“Afternoon, Swan.” He was in front of her before she realized it, and if he'd noticed her attire, he was politely not staring at it—and surely the flush on his cheeks was sunburn, right? (And it's not like she was admiring the fit of his t-shirt or his swim trunks...no, not at all.)

“Hello, Jones. Looking for some light summer reading?”

“Always. Better see what you don't have so I can stock up.”

“I'll keep an eye out for that shipment, then.” They were still receiving a box for the boys’ shop at least every couple weeks; Emma had long since turned that over to Mary Margaret to deal with, who hardly seemed to mind, if the way she and David were off discussing what looked to be a modern retelling of Snow White was any indication.

“Well, I've already found one title to order,” he drawled, tracing the edge of a paperback on the portable shelf they stood by. “It seems as though you prefer one Brontë sister over the other.”

She glanced at the book he was eyeing—Jane Eyre—and scoffed. “Are you trying to tell me you actually like Wuthering Heights?”

“I realize it doesn't fit your criteria, but you can hardly deny it's worth as a literary classic.”

“Heathcliff was a dick.”

“He'd lost his love. He was angry at the world.”

“That's no right to be an asshole. And this is the one time I'll agree with Edward Cullen: it's a story of hate, not love.”

“One can certainly breed the other,” he said darkly. “Tell me, Swan, has a loss of love ever affected you?”

There was an almost accusatory edge to his voice that told her both that he could identify with Heathcliff, and that he suspected Emma could as well. And Emma found herself wishing he'd stick to reading books and not her.

“I take it by your silence, that's a yes.”

“That's none of your business.”

“What if I wanted it to be?” His gaze was intense and true, and the heat she felt coiling in her belly had nothing to do with the ambient temperature. For a second, she wondered what it would be like to let herself feel that all the time—to not worry that he'd just be another guy to break her heart.

One second stretched to two, to a few more, and she needed to know what it would really feel like.

Roughly, she shoved him behind the shelf and out of view, keeping her hands fisted in the soft cotton of his shirt as she followed. Then, just as fervently, she reversed the motion, tugging him to her and pulling his lips to hers.

She felt his stiff shock at the initial contact, but he quickly melted into the kiss, hook finding her hip and hand finding her hair. Her fingers toyed with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck as she plundered his mouth with her tongue, but he gave as good as he got. They paused for a moment to catch their breath, but Emma found herself wanting more, and dove back in.

He shifted a bit forward, which in turn nudged Emma toward the shelf, her shoulder hitting an edge and reminding her where they were. A moment later, they broke again, and she moved back a bit to distance herself.

“That was…” Killian breathed once he'd regained his mental faculties.

“A one-time thing,” Emma finished. It had to be. “Stay here a bit; look at the books some before you leave.”

She turned away before he had a chance to respond, but she didn't miss his fuckstruck whisper of “As you wish” before she stepped out from behind the fixture.

(She did miss the way his fingers touched his lips, in disbelief of what had just occurred, but mainly because she was still amazed she had done that herself.)

(And the way it didn't mean a thing. Not one damn thing.)

A few minutes later, a far more composed Killian crept out from behind the shelves, looked around a bit more, and chatted with Henry before leaving with David. He nodded in her direction as they headed out, and she nodded and smiled back.

One-time thing, she reminded herself, subduing the pang of loss she now felt whenever he left (which was only assuaged by watching the way his assets filled out those blue shorts...hey, nothing said she couldn’t look). It was going to take more convincing than usual to make herself believe that, because she knew she had never been kissed like that before: with not just passion, but actual care...and maybe something more. Hell, she was already lying to herself, given that this was their second encounter and she was somehow more wrecked than she was after the first, which was even more intimate.

She was so screwed.

The sun was setting as Emma and Henry headed home, he skipping ahead of her along Main Street while she toted a bag with Granny’s takeout containers. Henry, as usual, was jabbering away about his day; she was trying to listen, she really was, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that kiss.

“So Killian’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” Her heart nearly stopped at Henry’s mention of the man; sometimes, she wished her son wasn’t so damn perceptive.

“Uh, I guess; I haven't really talked to him much.”

“Please, Mom. Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I don’t notice things.”

“Things like what?” Oh, please tell me he didn’t see.

“Like the way you stared at his butt as he left.”

“Henry!” she admonished, but not that sternly; that’s not as bad as I thought.

“What? It’s okay. I totally ship it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Hey, language,” he chastised. “And it means if you want to kiss him, you totally should.”

He ran ahead of her to get the door leading to their apartment, leaving her in the dust as she shook her head and vowed to limit his internet time.

After that, it was a back-and-forth of events between the shops. August saw the boys hosting a science event that Henry couldn’t shut up about for two weeks (his enthusiasm was too adorable for Emma to tell him to can it, or to scold him for betraying his blood); then in September, the girls held a Harvest Festival, featuring cookbooks, a pie-making contest (which the mayor, Regina, won with a to-die-for apple pie), and still that bit of fairy tale flavor—because what would Cinderella be without her pumpkins or Jack and his magic beans?

Just as before, she dropped in on the boys’ event and he found his way into hers. She had rather enjoyed the DIY rock candy Killian had insisted she take home, and his pecan pie (with more than a hint of rum) had been a close third in the contest. They flirted and teased as usual, but after that kiss—and the way they both seemed to be happy to not talk about it—things took on an almost more heated edge that frustrated her. Part of her—the part that kept her awake at night, with the memory of that kiss in her head and had her reaching for the items she kept in her bedside drawer right next to his still-unused phone number—was hoping that he’d make a move and prove to her that he was truly invested. But the other part of her—the one that had been burned in love before, and could tell he had at some point, too—was already trying to tell her to move on.

It came to a head when she ran into him while posting flyers for their annual Halloween party. She paused at first, not prepared to see him at the town bulletin board (or the way the midday sun was highlighting the brown in his hair, the ginger in his beard, and the gold in the middle of those blue eyes). He smirked at her, and she raised an eyebrow in reply—their standard greeting by now. While he posted his last few flyers, holding them down with his left forearm while piercing with the push pin at the top, she slyly read the signs as she posted her own, and then scoffed.

“Really? A pirate party? That’s the best you’ve got?”

He stepped back and glanced at hers. “‘Once Upon A Time’?” he read aloud. “Looks like you’re one to talk. Not your most original idea, love.”

She could tell he was fighting back a grin, if the arch of his brow and the fire in his eyes was anything to go off of. He was taunting her, but he knew she could throw it right back.

“Is that a challenge?”

“As I said before, I love a challenge.” Between his lowered voice and already sinful accent, just that simple phrase had her both weak in the knees and raised her resolve.

Swallowing to regain her composure, she charged on. “Then I guess we’ll just see who has the best party.”

“So we shall.”

Immediately, Emma went home and did something she’d never done before: logged on to Pinterest. (She was pretty sure Mary Margaret shed a tear.) The next few weeks leading up until the party were a flurry of crafting, googling, pinning, and squee-ing as they got ready to host the perfect fairy tale party, with just a bit of a spooky edge. Of course, the party was open to all sorts of characters, but it wouldn’t be theirs without that touch of whimsy only found in fairy tales.

To that end, Mary Margaret had talked her into going as a princess. To be honest, until she saw the boys’ plans, Emma had planned on dressing up as Elizabeth Swann. That idea was quickly shelved, but she couldn’t decide on a specific princess to go as, so went about making one up of her own, with the dress to match.

(She also may have invested in a good corset to go with it. As she learned at their beach party, sex sells.)

(And makes pirates swoon.)

Once Halloween arrived, she had to admit: she was actually a bit overwhelmed. Emma wasn’t even sure where all Mary Margaret had acquired all the decorations from—magic, she had to assume. Twinkle lights topped almost every shelf; glitter was absolutely everywhere, including the punch—and probably her corset, by the end of the night; and the whole place just seemed to carry an otherworldly aura as if it had been ripped straight from the page of a storybook.

Little princes and princesses were dashing around the store, decorating crowns and tiaras with even more glitter. More than a few tiny witches and wizards were pretending to zoom through the aisles on broomsticks. There was even a little Spider-Man bowing to an adorable Merida and asking her to dance in the makeshift ballroom in the back.

The ladies watched it all, grinning, making sure to compliment each and every costumed patron that came through. They fielded plenty of their own, too: Mary Margaret’s Snow White costume was eerily accurate, and she played the part all too well; Ruby had somehow managed to tone it down from her usual outfits into a cute Red Riding Hood, cloak and all; and Emma’s self-titled Princess of Misthaven costume, composed of a red ball gown and sparkling tiara, drew its fair share of admiration.

Between customers and trick-or-treaters, it was shaping up to be a busy and fun night. The party was spilling out not only into the street, but also across it, where it looked like Shore Leaves was also having a good turnout. Actually, it looked like people were milling between the two; she hadn’t expected that, but also realized she should be surprised.

Her shop literally looked like Pinterest threw up on it; so what did the other store look like if it was attracting a similar crowd?

She passed off the candy bowl to Ruby, hiked up her skirt, and then crossed the street as ladylike as possible. Outside the store, the faint strains of the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack were filtering through the air, and the golden wrappers from chocolate coins were strewn about the sidewalk.

Pirates and sailors of all ages were milling about inside, enjoying their own punch and games. Just as her shop’s decor lent itself to their party’s theme, the nautical setting of Shore Leaves almost had her thinking she was actually on a ship. She hadn’t been inside since around when they opened, so she hadn’t yet seen the ship-styled children’s area, where a band of princesses were making a boy dressed as a Hobbit walk the plank. A short pirate with a tiara nearly knocked her over in an attempt to rescue his friend, and as she continued through, she caught a glimpse of Henry and his crew in their Ghostbusters costumes.

It was a nice party. Maybe not as detailed as her own, but everyone was having fun and seemed to be attending both. And it answered the question of where all those candy necklaces had come from, as she noted the number of “treasure chests” overflowing with “jewels” and “coins”.

As she took in the party, she wasn’t paying enough attention to where she was going and soon found herself in the midst of a collision—David rounded the corner between shelves right into her. “Oh, sorry—Emma? Hi! Nice dress!”

“Hey,” she recovered, getting as much whiplash from his hurried outbursts as from the actual collision. “Nice party.”

“Thanks! It wasn’t completely my thing, but Killian did a good job with the details.”

“You run a nautical-themed book store and you’re saying that pirates aren’t your thing?”

“Books are; but Killian is the ex-Navy man who decided the theme.”

“Ahh.” She mentally filed away that detail. “Well, you play a pretty good one.” His brown leather pants, white tunic, and the brightly colored scarf tied around his head sold the look.

“Thanks,” he said, blushing. “But, I gotta say...I’d rather be playing prince with you guys.”

She laughed. “You know, I was going to be a pirate originally. But…” Emma trailed off, glancing over he shoulder, through the windows, and across the street. “I bet Mary Margaret could use some company.”

“You think so?”

“Mhmm.” What was the term Henry used? Oh yeah—she totally shipped them, which now she was thinking was some sort of pun with the way he’d used it in relation to her and Killian.

David grinned at her and practically sprinted out of the store, nearly getting hit by a car in his haste to cross the street. She was giggling to herself when she felt a hot breath and equally torrid voice against her neck.

“Spying, are we?”

She turned quickly, only to be met with blue eyes and a dimpled-half grin that, combined with the initial shock, made her feel like her heart would beat right out of her corset.

Killian was leaning against the shelf, looking positively sinful in that same pirate outfit he wore on his ship, but it was somehow darker, more seductive—whether it was due to the pose, the low light, or the thicker eyeliner, she wasn’t sure, but if she wasn’t careful, any of her resolve would be as long gone as her ability to properly breathe in this dress.

He, too, was giving her a once over, and seemed to like what he saw. “I must say, Swan, you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

She visibly swallowed. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes at his cocky answer and he somehow managed to smirk harder. “But back to my original question: spying, or conceding?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Admit it: this party is fantastic.”

“It’s cute,” she teased, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“Cute?” It worked. He pushed away from the shelf hips first, invading her space. “Cute?” he repeated, somewhat indignant. “I’ll have you know there is nothing cute about a pirate bash, love.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Pray tell how this is any more saccharine than what is surely an explosion of pink glitter and the Disney Store in your establishment?”

“I’ll have you know it’s the Brothers Grimm.”

“Well, that’s at least appropriate for the holiday. All that glitter on your chest begs to differ, though.”

She couldn’t help it: she snorted, glad that at least the corset had done its job in attracting his attention, even though, perfect annoying gentleman he was, she hadn’t noticed his eyes wander from hers once.

“Just wave the white flag, love.”

“Let’s call it a draw.”

“I can drink to that.” Somehow, a flask appeared in his hand; he deftly flicked it open with his thumb, took a swig, and offered it to her. She eyed it for a second before taking it, fully expecting goat’s milk or something equally innocent, only to be shocked by the familiar burn of spiced rum hitting her tongue.

“Seriously? Can you get any more stereotypical?”

“What? I’m a pirate.” He gave her a devilish grin, gesturing to his prop hook and looking proud as punch of the fact.

She took one more sip of rum before passing it back, and realizing between that, the setting, and the general way he flustered her, she had to get out of there before doing another thing she regretted. “Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your party,” she nearly stuttered, as calmly as she could manage.

She turned to leave, but had barely taken a step before she felt the cool of metal through the red satin of her sleeve. “Emma, wait.”

She faced him again, and all the bravado that was there a second ago had faded. The raw emotion and genuine ardor on his face made her flush even more than the innuendo had.

His hand drifted up behind his ear in what she'd come to recognize as a nervous tick. “I was wondering if, maybe…”

“Will you go out with me?” Her blurted interruption was just as surprising to her as it was to him, and it hung in the now-thick silence between them.

Until he chuckled—a deep, hearty thing she hadn't heard since their shared night; a sound she realized she missed. “Shouldn't I be the one asking?”

“Should have known you'd be old-fashioned. And you tried; I just beat you to it.” Looked like the rum was giving her some extra confidence.

He smiled back, but softer than usual and it brightened his eyes, despite the shadows in which they stood. “I heartily accept, on one condition: you let me plan the evening.”

“I know how to plan a date,” she scoffed.

“I'm sure you do, Swan. But you pick the time and I'll handle the rest. I believe you still have my number?”

She nodded bashfully.

“Don't be afraid to use it.” He stepped forward just enough to take her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. His lips met her fingers for only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity with the way his intense gaze held hers and the gentle scratch of his scruff against her skin. A lick of fire spread through her veins, racing from the point of contact to her heart and making her chest and face match the color of her dress.

He released her hand, but she was frozen in place, watching as he bowed to her. “Good night, Your Highness,” he said, smiling in his tone.

She recovered enough to curtsy and offer a polite “Good night, Captain,” in reply, before turning again to leave; but she did pause once to glance over her shoulder, only to see him still staring.

She felt like a little girl in the way she giggled at that and hurried out. She should have been frightened of the whole exchange—at how bold both of them acted—but it was either the rum, the spirit of the night, or maybe just getting tired of the waltz they’d been doing around each other that had her feeling anything but.

Back at the shop, Ruby tried to interrogate her about the quiet grin on her face, but Emma remained coy—she wanted to keep this between her and Killian for now, knowing how it would become a thing if too many eyes started prying too soon.

All too soon, the party—a resounding success, if the smiles on the kids’ faces and the cash in the register were anything to go by—wrapped up, leaving Emma, Ruby, and a slightly disheveled Mary Margaret to clean up.

“What a night,” the flushed Snow White gushed as she futilely swept up glitter.

“Yeah,” Emma breathed happily, still kind of in a daze while boxing up the craft supplies.

Henry was asleep by the time Emma headed upstairs, Mary Margaret having insisted on getting the store as clean as possible before they left. She was exhausted and her bed had hardly ever looked so glorious as it did when she flopped down on it. But before she could completely give in the bliss of sleep, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out the business card that had been staring at her for the past few months, finally letting it breathe and be ready to use tomorrow.

ACT 4

It was easy to forget past love when things seemed to be going so well. But for all love teaches to rhyme, it also teaches melancholy. [5]

Her alarm went off at its usual time the next day, but she allowed herself a few pushes of the snooze button; she earned it after the late night. The first of November brought a later and later sunrise, and she was hardly inclined to get up when it was still dark. But by 7:45, the sky was reasonably well lit and she slid out from her cocoon of comforters to take on the day.

She opened the curtains to see just how trashed the street was; between the two parties and other general revelry, she expected a mess, but it wasn’t too bad.

What she didn’t expect was the slumped form sitting in a bench in the tiny park in the median outside the shop (it was something contrived, like the Smallest Park in Maine or something, but really had only been good for giving drunks a place to crash at night). She’d recognize that dark mess of hair anywhere, though it looked particularly disheveled this morning.

And was that a fifth of rum next to him?

Looks like I won’t need that card just yet. She dressed and readied quickly; something just didn’t seem right about this. She didn’t think Killian was a teetotaller—he clearly had his own supply last night—but she’d never seen him crashed out there before. She knew he and David lived in the apartment above their shop, just like she and Henry did theirs, so if this was a habit, she’d know about it.

Quickly, Emma dressed and made her hair look presentable—and maybe threw on some mascara—before heading down to the shop to take the trash out on her way to seeing what was up with Killian.

But she had barely entered the store through the door in the back when she heard someone shushing someone else. Her heart rate picked up and she reached for the baseball bat they kept by the door just in case. Why anyone would break into the shop was a mystery to her, but she wouldn’t let it fly; not on her watch.

Then she heard...was that giggling? It was coming from the storytime nook. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed over, bat held in a swinging stance.

She took a moment to hide behind the edge of the fake hollowed-out tree, listening as whoever was there continued to (attempt to) hide the fact they were there. Going for the element of surprise, she then jumped in front of it, aiming the tip of the bat at the offenders.

Anger quickly turned to shock when she saw who it was, though: a guilty-looking Mary Margaret staring up at her from the floor, with a just-as-embarrassed David next to her. Under blankets. Clothes strewn about the space. (And Emma definitely saw their underwear; she didn’t need to know that David wore tighty whiteys.)

“What the hell?” was all she could manage.

“Uh, hey, Emma,” Mary Margaret weakly replied. Dave looked like he was about to sheepishly cover his head with the quilt.

On one hand, Emma was proud of normally prudish friend. But on the other… “Did you really have to do it there? In the story nook?”

“Sorry! It just kinda...happened.”

“Your apartment is five minutes away! You know, the one you have all to yourself?”

“I know! I just…” Mary Margaret blushed even harder, but was clearly trying to hold back giggles as she pulled the blanket up to her chin and giving Emma a knowing look. More than once, the ladies had discussed a desire to fall asleep—and maybe do other things—on the mountain of beanbags back here. She couldn’t really fault her friend for finally going for it.

Emma lowered the bat and sighed. “Well, just...clean up, okay? And sanitize everything.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” David replied, and Emma practically stomped away.

She was still shaken by the encounter as she haphazardly threw the trash in the dented old can outside the front door; she jumped in surprise when she heard the complaint of “Oi!” as she did so, which reminded her why she'd wanted to come outside in the first place.

Killian was either squinting or glaring (or both) at her, shielding his racoon eyes with his hand. He wore a half-zipped hoodie over a rumpled white t-shirt with a torn pair of jeans; a far cry from his usual partially buttoned button-up, waistcoat, and trousers. She’d actually never seen him so unkempt since...well, since she saw him naked.

“You okay?” He just grunted in reply, and slumped back against the bench.

She didn’t even bother to put the lid back on the can properly before running across the street to him; now she was kind of worried. The scent of rum was overpowering when she reached the park, and he was so still that she almost thought he’d passed out just in the minute it took her to get there.

“Killian?” she asked gently, but got no response. “Killian?” she tried again, nudging his foot with hers. Still nothing. Jumping to drastics, she leaned forward to shake his shoulders. “Hey!”

“Bloody hell,” he slurred, then cracked an eye open at her. “What is it, Swan? Can’t a man drink in peace?”

“Usually people do that on Halloween, not the Monday morning after.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of All Souls Day?”

“Yeah; it’s tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m celebrating it early.”

She picked the half-empty bottle up off the seat next to him and sat down in its place. She found herself reverting to mom mode. “Care to tell me why?”

“Not particularly.” He shuffled, trying to get comfortable on the bench and clearly failing if the disappointed pout on his face was any indication. It wasn’t just that, either—he looked unhappy. This was another one of those moments when his walls were lowered, she could tell, but it pained her that he didn’t want to divulge what was going on. She thought they had both made a step forward last night, but this felt like two backwards, and oddly not on her end, as usual.

So she leaned back, took a deep breath, and started talking. “I was a foster kid. My parents abandoned me on the side of the road so I ended up in the system.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, still with his eyes closed, but seemed to be listening.

“I bounced around a lot, and a lot of places weren't great. But then I found books, and that gave me an escape.” She chuckled to herself. “I remember one place where my room was hardly bigger than a closet; no windows. So I would pretend that I was Harry Potter, and I had powers and someone would take me to some magic place.”

“Swan,” he started, but she kept going; she had to or she'd lose her nerve.

“I guess the Blanchards kind of were my Hagrid, and they brought me here. But then I met Henry’s father, and he let me take the fall for a robbery, so that's how I ended up in juvie, pregnant with a broken heart. He was just one more person to abandon me.” She swallowed. “That's why I prefer happy endings.”

She studied the patch of grass in front of them, but could feel his gaze on her. It was several tense moments before she turned her head to look at him; whatever scrutiny she feared she might see on his face, even in his inebriated state, it wasn't there—just empathy, and even a hint of a smile. “I appreciate you telling me your tale, Swan,” he eventually murmured. “But...why?”

“We all have fucked up pasts,” she told him with a shrug. She didn't want to force him to tell her what was going on today, but maybe her own admission would make him feel comfortable enough to let her in.

Thankfully, it did. He lightly chuckled. “Well that's certainly true,” he agreed, shifting again in his seat and nearly falling over, only saved by his hook on the back of the bench holding him up. “Let's see: father ran out, mother died, all before I was 9; raised by my older brother; joined the Royal Navy, where I lost my brother and my hand; fell in love after my discharge; and then she died, too. How’s that for fucked up?”

He was smiling again, but it didn't reach his eyes and was actually hard to look at—it was an odd, self-deprecating thing. There was something raw about that confession and his expression that caught her breath in her throat. “I'm sorry, Killian.” He waved her off before closing his eyes and leaning back again. “Is that what the rum is for?”

“Aye,” he quietly confirmed with a nod. “My mum was Irish Catholic; I grew up with All Souls Day. It's when I commemorate them, her and Liam and Milah.” Emma had to assume they were his brother and lost love. “If I give myself just this one day to wallow in grief, it makes the other 364 a bit more bearable.” He opened his eyes again. “And that's why I don’t shy away from tragedies.”

“Misery loves company?”

“Something like that.”

They were both silent for the next few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward. And it wasn’t as though she was seeing him in a new light; more like looking at him through a better prescription of glasses—clearer.

They exchanged a few shy smiles before it was apparent that he was struggling to remain conscious. “Come on,” she commanded, patting his leg. “I don’t date drunks. Let’s get you inside.”

He muttered something unintelligible as she helped him to his feet, then added, “Yeah, Dave’s probably wondering where I am. Best not worry ‘im.”

“Uh...he’s probably not,” she answered as they half walked, half stumbled across the street.

“No?”

“Well, last I saw, he was quite comfy on the floor of my shop.” Killian looked at her with a brow raised, silently asking for more info. “With Mary Margaret.”

Killian’s other brow joined the lifted one in a look of surprised approval. “Well, fuck. Good for them.”

“I guess.”

He handed her the key to the outside door to his place, leaning against the wall as she unlocked the door. Getting him up the stairs to his almost-too-clean apartment (yeah, he was definitely a former Navy man) was a struggle, but she eventually was able to deposit him on his couch. He immediately snuggled into the cushions, and if it weren’t for the fact that he still reeked of booze, she’d find it adorable.

She left a glass of water and a bottle of pain meds on the coffee table next to him and then leaned over to brush the hair out of his eyes. She had sudden déjà vu to their tryst; she had studied his sleeping form like so then, too, and had been just as taken with how impossibly handsome he was. Despite the rough state of his stubble at the moment, he still looked so much younger than he did while awake, when the weight of his past wasn’t hanging on him. Even if he said he only gave himself this one day to grieve, she knew from personal experience that it never went away.

“Swan?” he croaked out in his near-passed out state.

“Yeah?”

“So when do you wanna go on that date?”

She smiled. “How does a week from Saturday sound?”

“Perfect,” he answered with a sleepy grin. “Just...remind me, okay?”

“Will do.”

She kept her word when he came by the next day, looking no worse for the wear, to get yet another wrongly delivered box.

(And if he smelled an excessive amount of cleaning product in the store, he didn’t comment.)

The date was perfect.

She wore a soft pink dress she hadn’t yet had a chance to go out in. He met her at her front door and presented her with a single rose. Henry gave the overprotective dad speech, and Killian promised to have her home by 10.

They went to a restaurant that wasn’t Granny’s, for a change, and then took a stroll by the docks before getting ice cream from the shop down the street. Evening chill set in and he insisted she wear his leather coat; it was warm and smelled of the sea and spice, just like him.

He held her hand firmly in his as they wandered around town, discussing movies, music, and then giving up pretense and talking literature (but not business—as she reminded him, they were still rivals). It turned out he, too, was a fan of Harry Potter, as well as Lord of the Rings, pouting when she called him a nerd (though she did the same when he jokingly teased her love of Narnia).

At 9:59, they were outside her front door. She reluctantly returned the jacket, but before she did, he pulled her in for a sweet, chaste kiss, followed by one more on the back of her hand, eliciting goosebumps along her skin that weren’t just due to the cool air. They bid each other goodnight, and he watched as she closed the door behind her.

For a moment, she lingered there, leaning against the wood. The date was perfect.

So why was that old, familiar fear of commitment forming in the back of her mind again?

ACT 5

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; when little fears grow great, great love grows there. [6] Or does it?

November brought thoughts of Thanksgiving, and thoughts of Thanksgiving brought the start of holiday planning. And this year, Emma had the theme of their annual Christmas party picked out far in advance: a Yule Ball, as close to being ripped from the pages of Goblet of Fire as they could manage. Her discussions with Killian about the series had inspired her, and even if she wasn’t actually a wizard, one of the perks of this job was getting to pretend, even if only for one night.

It had only been a week since their first date, but in between party planning, normal business, and holiday prep, she and Killian had yet to go on another. They managed to run into each other one way or another almost every day—often enough that she’d still yet found a reason to use his phone number—but she couldn’t fight that self-doubt that was making her hesitate. If he caught onto it, he was being a gentleman and not pressuring her, and so they fell back into their usual flirty banter. It just happened to be over breakfast and paired with cheek kisses now.

As amazing as he seemed to be, she knew that nothing in life was that perfect. At some point, he was going to stop being so patient, or he’d realize he didn’t want to deal with both her and Henry, and he’d leave her in the dust.

Right?

Yet he still said nothing, and just went on being his impossibly perfect self. Damn him and his Hufflepuff ways; it was driving her Gryffindor instincts crazy. If Archie, the town’s psychologist, could assess her, he’d probably tell her that what happened next was on her—that she was looking for a reason to find fault in him. And part of her knew she was. But Emma was good at running, and at finding reasons to leave, so she may as well beat him to the punch.

She was posting signs for their Yule Ball on another crisp fall morning—chillier than when she was announcing their Halloween party, but just as sunny—and was again at the community bulletin board when Killian also strolled up. He looked just as dashing as ever, with a gray beanie pulled over his messy hair and pointed ears, and a knit scarf around his neck that was just begging for her to use it to pull him in for a kiss. He barely even looked tired, though she knew he’d been up late reading—from across the street, she’d seen how long the light in his room had stayed on.

“Morning, Swan,” he greeted happily, pulling a flyer from his satchel to post. Damn chipper sexy bastard.

“Hey there, sailor,” she replied as she pushed in a tack on her sign.

He started conversing with her as he went about putting the sign up. “So, I was thinking, maybe we could try that little fish and chips place next time.”

“Next time? I don’t remember asking.” She turned to face him, hoping the teasing tone covered up her deflection.

“That’s because it’s my turn,” he retorted, pinning the sign and stepping back to face her. “Will you go out with me again?”

Emma opened her mouth to reply—he looked so adorably earnest—but then caught sight of his sign, and the words spelled out in a gorgeous, handwritten scroll that she recognized as his own penmanship: Yule Ball. And on the same date as theirs.

Quickly, her emotions turned over to anger. “Really?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What? What is...oh,” he trailed off once he took a glance back at her sign. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?” he suggested nervously.

“Mhmm. Sure.” His response did nothing to calm her; if anything, it just made her fume more.

“Emma, trust me—”

“No,” she cut him off. “I can’t believe I fell for this. You were just spying on us the whole time, weren’t you?”

“No, Emma, I swear—it’s—”

“Save it.” She turned on her heel and marched off, heading back toward the shop. His cries of “Emma, wait!” fell on deaf ears.

She knew—she knew this would happen. He was far too charming to only be in this game for himself. He had picked that shop location willingly, just to run them out of town...or something. Regardless, he’d just led her on to get his own business ahead.

Yeah, that was it. And it was better that she get out now, before he broke her heart later, after she’d really fallen for him. Yup. Exactly that.

The apartment door slammed behind her with a clang and she angrily stormed up to her room, grabbing her laptop so she could start to peruse Pinterest for Potter-themed party planning.

Glaring at her from the nightstand was the card with Killian’s number on it. She snatched it up and threw it in the trash, hoping her livid stare would incinerate it. (No such luck.)

She flopped on her bed and began scrolling through boards and pins, forcing herself to think of something other than the maelstrom of emotions coursing through her.

It worked, for a while, and she knew Mary Margaret would love some of the things she’d found. But then she headed down to the store to start the work day, and at the sight of the shop across the street—and the poster in the window advertising the party—an unexpected pang hit Emma in the chest instead of the expected loathing.

Maybe she was in deeper than she’d thought.

Thanksgiving came and went, and the party was quickly approaching. In the few weeks since her encounter with Killian, she’d managed to avoid him altogether, thankfully; they never crossed paths at Granny’s, and David was the one to come over for their boxes. It was better that way. (Or so she told herself.)

Whatever was going on between David and Mary Margaret was progressing nicely, it seemed, and Emma was happy for them, but she had to swallow down the bile-flavored jealousy that rose in her throat sometimes at seeing them. She knew she had made the right decision, in pushing Killian away, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this damn much.

It was hard explaining to Henry why she didn’t see him anymore. (It hadn’t stopped Henry from spending afternoons there. “He seems kind of bummed out, Mom.”) It was difficult to explain to Mary Margaret why she was putting so much effort into the yule ball. (“You know, it’s not a competition,” her friend lectured.) It was impossible to explain to Ruby what had happened. (“Goddamn your walls, Emma! That juicy chunk of man meat wants you and I’m tired of serving him his pancakes while he pouts.”)

David, smartly, had made no comments to her. It would have just made her feel worse. Because what hurt the most was looking across the street at night and seeing his window lit up at all hours, just as hers was, and knowing that she had something to do with that.

But what was done was done; they could both be adults and move on. Surely he could handle a bit of rejection—it was no worse than anything else he’d faced. And she could get over him, too.

These were the things she told herself as she folded Chocolate Frog boxes, as she put together bags of every-flavored beans, as she crafted floating candles to be hung from the ceiling. Just pour yourself into this—make it perfect and show him up—and then take some time off to clear your mind before the new year. Then she’d be good as new.

The morning before the party, she was hard at work decorating the store. The candles all dangled from the ceiling, ready to be lit; tables were in place, ready to hold the treacle tarts and cauldron cakes that Granny was baking; and Emma had even pulled out her old home ec sewing skills to make house banners and hung them on their tree-like columns. (She did learn something in school.)

When she was just about done, she headed to the front of the store to survey the scene. Outside, though, was just as much chaos as she'd wrought in the store. Heating posts were being set up at intervals down the median; the distinctive shape of quidditch poles were being erected in an open area; and strings of white lights were criss-crossing the street on Storybrooke’s old-fashioned lampposts.

What the hell was going on out there?

Not a second later, Mary Margaret came in the front door, stomping and shaking the snow off her. Emma hardly hesitated a moment before asking what it all was.

“Oh, didn't I tell you? David and I thought, since we’re both having Yule Balls, and considering what happened at Halloween, may as well bridge the gap. Literally.”

Emma's gaping response said no, you didn't tell me; how dare you and Mary Margaret immediately looked sheepish, before switching into teacher mode.

“Come on, Emma; it'll be fun.”

“Yeah, for you. You're the one fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Ugh!” Mary Margaret groaned, uncharacteristically slamming her hat and scarf on the counter. “I don't know where you got this rivalry notion from, but have you looked at the books lately?”

“No,” Emma threw back, a bit standoffishly. Mary Margaret managed the money while Emma took care of stock.

“Ever since they moved in, our sales have gone up.”

Emma was surprised. “Really?” she answered meekly.

“Yes. And for all you've been moping and muttering around, and throwing yourself into this party for the past few weeks, there's a guy across the street who's been doing the exact same thing for just as long.”

Emma stared at the hardwood floor, flushing with guilt at her friend’s admonishment. She didn’t have an answer.

Which was fine, because Mary Margaret continued. “Emma, that wall of yours—it may keep out pain, but it also may keep out love.”

Still looking down, Emma muttered something about checking the dance floor and wandered off, but the feel of Mary Margaret’s motherly gaze stayed on her. Deep down, she knew her friend was right (even if she was going to disregard the use of the l-word); but above all that, she also knew that it was too risky. It took years to repair her heart after Neal and something told her that if it happened again with Killian, she’d never recover.

She busied herself the rest of the day with putting everything in place for the party and getting ready herself. She wore the red dress from Halloween again—it was a ball, after all, but she toned down the support from the corset. Unlike last time, she wasn’t really trying to impress anyone.

The party went off flawlessly. All the patrons had smiles on their faces, and the bell constantly jingled with everyone coming in and out; actually, it was so loud in the store, Emma wondered why she’d even bothered to make sure the Harry Potter movie score was playing. Between keeping the goodie tables remained full and manning the register for customers purchasing last-minute gifts, she managed to stay pretty busy.

A few times, she caught sight of the snowy quidditch matches being played outside, smiling when Henry scored. To her son’s credit, he tried a few times to get her to go out and see it, but between her dress’ lack of warmth and the sight of the many happy couples huddled close together in observation of the game, drinking what was surely hot pumpkin juice or butterbeer, she had to say no, citing a need to stay in the store. But she had, perhaps hypocritically, shoved Mary Margaret out the door, who was now sharing a cloak with her Prince Charming and laughing at the game.

Out of habit, Emma’s eyes drifted to the storefront across the way. It looked to be just as busy as her own, and she could almost imagine the sound of their ship’s bell clanging as the door swung open and slammed shut. She looked for Killian, perhaps masochistically, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed involuntarily, and wasn’t sure if the accompanying pang in her heart meant she was fine with not seeing him...or that she had wanted to. She distracted herself for the umpteenth time by checking their stock of licorice wands, safely out of sight of the windows.

A couple of hours later, the parties were winding down and Emma found herself starting to clean things up in the back of the shop. Whose brilliant idea was it to have glitter again? Didn’t we learn this lesson at Halloween? she wondered as she swept up the messy remnants of their golden snitch ornament take-home craft. She must have been sweeping a bit too hard, though, because when she picked up the glitter-filled dustpan, she sneezed, casting all of that stuff all over the classic books.

She cursed under her breath and immediately began wiping down the now-sparkly spines, fighting back the tears that welled (though whether it was at frustration, the dust in the air, or the emotional turmoil that led her to clean up so aggressively in the first place was up for debate).

First she cleaned off Austen, then Brontë, and then kept working past Hemingway until she reached Shakespeare. She was taking in the titles as she went, but then noticed one that seemed out of place: Romeo and Juliet. What the hell? She pulled it out, wondering if someone had put it there as a joke, but it was a brand-new copy and matched the style of the others they kept in stock. Which could only mean one of two things: either they’d somehow gotten a part of Shore Leaves’ stock, or…

Or she’d accidentally ordered a tragedy. And placed it on the shelf. Somehow she knew she did; that in the fog of planning the party and running away from her feelings, she’d managed to bring in the very thing that started the banter between her and Killian all those months ago.

And then, the dam broke. Before she knew it, she was crying, with fat, hot tears dripping onto the cover of the book. Hastily, she wiped it off on her skirt and reshelved it, not wanting to damage the merchandise, and then stood to run into the back room.

Memories of the past few months came flooding back, and she realized just how much she missed Killian over the weeks since she dismissed him. As infuriating as he could be, his brand of flirtatious support was sorely lacking in her life, and by all accounts, he wasn’t doing so hot without her, either. How could I do that to him? To myself? To...us?

A plan quickly formed in her head. She dried her eyes as best she could, blew her nose on some old tote bags they were never going to sell, and then ran back to the Shakespeare to shelf to pull out the same book again. A quote was ringing through her head from when she had to read it in high school, so she flipped to Act 2 to make sure she had it right.

The store was now empty, aside from her and Mary Margaret; despite the sugar rush, Henry crashed not long after the game ended. Her friend was cleaning up one of the treat tables when Emma dashed past, skirts hiked and eyes fixed on the door. “Emma, is everything okay?”

“We’ll see,” she answered, before heading out into the Narnia-like world outside.

She was ready to make a break through the cold to the shop across the street, but paused at the sight of a lone figure standing in the falling snow in that damn tiny park, drinking from a flask. He wore a knee-length, old-fashioned brown coat over grey slacks, a black waistcoat, and matching boots. And, of course, his shirt was wide open, the snow falling on his chest hair making her want to run her hands through it even from across the way. But she had other things to accomplish before they could get to anything approaching that again.

With a glance for oncoming cars, she ran through the slush to the median. Killian was staring at her, with a look on his face somewhere between shock and apprehension, and she couldn’t blame him for that reaction.

“Swan,” he greeted tentatively as she strode up to him. “To what do I owe this honor?”

She swallowed, glancing down before trailing her eyes back up to his. Curiosity and hurt made the blue stand out in harsh contrast to the warm glow of the fairy lights, and she almost lost her nerve before reciting the passage she’d hastily memorized.

She was never the best with words, but thankfully, the Bard was, and he’d written just the thing to express her feelings right now.

“For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt.” [7]

The corner of his mouth ticked up—a slight smirk of recognition—but it quickly disappeared. “I thought you didn’t do tragedies.”

“I don’t,” she affirmed, “but I guess I made an exception.” His silent response urged her on. “Look, I run away. That’s how I’ve always survived—both when I was a kid and now that I’m grown. Maybe not always literally, but at least figuratively. And...I guess I ran away from you.”

“Emma,” he started, but she cut him off.

“No, let me finish.” She took a deep breath. “But being away from you these past few weeks—and being the reason for it...I...well, I missed you. And I learned long ago that when you miss something, that means...it’s part of home. Life taught me to build walls around my heart, but you...you broke right through them.”

Now it was Killian’s turn to swallow.

“So, I want to stop running. And whatever this is,” she gestured between the two of them, “I want this to work.” Tears threatened to spill again; she sniffed them down again so she could finish. “I’m sorry, Killian; I’m so sorry,” she choked out.

Strong arms were around her in an instant, and his fingers were on her chin, pulling it up to look at him. He studied her face for a moment, before answering her with a quote of his own: “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee / The more I have, for both are infinite.” [8] She smiled through the tears now tracing paths down her cheeks. He glanced down, explaining, “I won’t lie, Emma—it hurt when you dashed off without a word and shut me out. But I’m a patient man, and a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“What’s that from?” she wondered, not familiar with the quotation.

“Me,” he answered, cheekily. She hadn’t realized how much she missed those dimples. “I never intended to take anything away from you by hosting the yule ball—”

“It wasn’t the party; it was just my own messed up reasoning and walls and—”

“I know,” he butted in. “But, what I’m trying to say is...I did this for you.”

“What?”

“You told me how much you loved the stories, so...I wanted to create a bit of that magic, just for you.”

She gaped at him a moment. He...he...what? No one had ever done anything like that for her—put so much effort into making her happy. “You threw a Yule Ball for me?”

He nodded solemnly. “Aye.”

Her eyes flitted down to his lips, before glancing back at the utter sincerity in his gaze, and she found herself leaning forward. She reached for the lapel of his jacket, and gently brought his lips to hers—cold at first, but soon warmed by her breath, her tongue, and the simple heat of the emotions he stirred within her. Like she said, words weren’t her strong suit, but actions were; and as their fingers found their way into the other’s hair, arms pulling each other closer, she hoped he could feel just how much she cared for him. (The L-word would come eventually.)

It felt like an eternity they spent kissing under the lights and falling snow, but surely it was only minutes until they were forced to break apart for air. She shivered at the loss of his warmth; the heat pooling in her belly did little to offset that. But if the pinks of his cheeks and ears were anything to go by, he was feeling the cold, as well.

“I...suppose this is where we part to our own abodes,” he said, albeit hesitantly. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” [9]

She laced her fingers with his. “Who said anything about parting? What about...coming together?”

Lust quickly filled his gaze. “I like how you think, love.” Ever the gentleman, he shed his coat and placed it around her shoulders as he led her back to his apartment.

She did get to bury her fingers in his chest hair, while parts of his body were buried elsewhere. It was true what they said about journeys ending in lovers’ meetings [8]; for all that it took them to get back to this point, it was the best lovemaking either of them had ever known thus far, and was sure to get better with time.

The only reason she wasn’t there in the morning was Henry, but both knew one simple truth: it certainly wasn’t a one-, or even a two-time thing, but an all-time thing.

EPILOGUE

No, the course of true love never did run smooth—it had bends and breaks, rapids and slows; moments that were as rough as the sea in a storm or as smooth as the ocean at daybreak.

Nor did it ever ease, but for Emma and Killian, as long as they were by each other’s side, they could teach their trials (and children) patience, and all else that was due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs and wishes and tears. [10]

And, ultimately, they lived happily ever after.

1. A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, Scene 1, Line 134 2. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 6, Lines 3-4 3. Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5, Line 1 4. The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 1, Lines ~17-20 5. Love's Labour's Lost, Act 3, Scene 3, Line 10 6. Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2, Lines 159-160 7. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2, Line 67 8. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2, Line 133 9. Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 3, Line 44 10. A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, Scene 1, Lines 154-155

tagging some friends: @captainswanismyendgame @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @xhookswenchx @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @disastergirl @laschatzi @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @phiralovesloki @swankkat and some peeps who were interested after the preview @lenfaz @blackwidownat2814 @snowbellewells @duckduckgrayezz @tnlph

#CS ff #cs au ff #cs modern au #my ff #gfss2016 #for #ive always been a pirate

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