#some days its cute. shes ever changing and my understanding of her grows more complex with every interaction

[3knecrotic]

Sometimes I don't think she cares, but it's also my Fault so I'm left so conflicted

..

[catohphm]

Harry Potter Hogwarts Legacy Appreciation Week - Day 5: The Gals

Good morning! I bring you now the fifth post for @endlessly-cursed’s HPHL Appreciation Week! Today is all about the wonderful ladies who deserve the same amount recognition as any wonderful OC, no questions asked! I’ll use today as an opportunity to recognize some amazing gals that I haven’t yet featured in a previous post. There are so many of them that I cannot possibly list every one so I’ll feature a small handful of ladies who come to mind first. Enjoy!

Primrose Gray - @endlessly-cursed

She is first up because Danny has a new established friendship with her that I am so excited about! Prim is such a sweet and kind Ravenclaw soul who shares a belief in found family with him. She’s quite the hugger too and is very grateful for the siblings she makes from friends. I get only good vibes from dear Prim! Even though the friendship Danny has with her is pretty new, it is like as if they’ve been knowing each other for a long time. I love her!

Leila Hellebore - @whatwouldvalerydo

A really interesting Slytherin lass she can seem like a complex, conflicted individual at first glance. Leila has demon heritage but her soul and heart is as warm as any decent human being. The beginnings of her friendship with Danny were pretty akward but they bonded over their introverted-ness and genuine desires to help people and protect those they care about. I and Danny are also so proud of Leila being able to find love in the form of Reuben Willows @that-scouse-wizard!l

Liore Harewood - @cursebreakerfarrier

She’s quite a unique gal - she gives Chiara Lobasca vibes with her white hair but the truth is she got that from her Veela heritage. However like wolf girl Liore is pretty shy and introverted but I only can imagine her inside as such a dear and wonderful friend that no one else is quite like! Learning to get over the stigma of her features and appreciating them is a remarkable milestone for Liore to achieve. Danny helped her gain confidence and feel better about herself. He’s empathetic like that. While he may look like a “normal” kid the physical scars of his rough childhood are always there and he sometimes has anxieties about that. The lesson that he and Liore both come to understand is that the inside beauty is what matters first and one should be accepting and proud of their own body - not let the negative opinions of others change that. I love Liore’s personality and her journey of self-acceptance and becoming more confident!

Gwen Archeon - @thatravenpuffwitch

Ever since I saw my moot Erin’s beautiful sketch of Gwen I thought of her as someone who gives softie vibes. Another amazing quidditch mate of Danny, she is so adorable, cute and very smart! She grows up to become an astronomy professor later in life. One of her other amazing talents is calligraphy and its so cool that she practices the art with the name of her friends and family. I think this is a very beautiful headcanon that shows Gwen is always thinking about those she knows and cares about them very much. 

[ascalonianpicnic]

Since its almost mother’s day, I figured I’d post a little essay I wrote last summer, prior to No Quarter’s release.

Disclaimer: as said, this is nearly a year old and doesn’t take into account the end of icebrood (which i still havent played). additionally, I am not saying anyone has to like Eir, but I do expect people to at least hold Rytlock to the same standards

And Warning: discussion of parents, particularly absent mothers and fathers

There was a trend recently in the fandom that has really been on my mind. Rytlock, often referred to as Dadlock in these scenarios, acts as a father figure for the commander or other oc members of their squad. It's a cute idea, very found family. It's not personally my favorite, but I don't have a problem with it on its own. But there was another trend that popped up recently that, when combined with this one, really bothers me. So let's talk about Eir. 

Eir Stegalkin is our mentor in the norn personal story, as well as a member of Destiny's Edge, the famed heros and protectors of Glint. She's tough and strong and independent, but not afraid of admitting when she makes mistakes or needs others. She's imperfect, a bit overconfident at times, and she makes plenty of mistakes, but she tries really hard to be a good role model to our character and to others. One thing she isn't, however, is a mother.

Eir had a son, Braham. He's still young when we meet him, probably the norn equivalent of his late teens, and he doesn't view Eir as his mother. And she in turn, doesn't view herself as his mother.

Back when Braham was very young, Eir was called away to help fight off the Sons of Svanir. She left Braham with his loving and capable father, Borje, intending to be back soon but getting caught up and being away for years, getting caught up in the battle against Jormag's growing influence, then joining in the battle against Kralkatorrik. She didn't hear of her partner's death until after the fact, and by that point, she knew Braham was being raised by good people in her and Borje's stead, and she also felt she had been away too long to come back at that point. She hadn't been a part of his life, she wasn't his mother anymore. So she chose to do what she thought was best and stay away from the son she couldn't promise to be there for, fighting to make the world he was growing up in safer instead. 

When Braham and Eir reunited, it wasn't on good terms. Braham was resentful, and for good reason, and Eir understood and respected that. As the two spend more time together from that point, working together, Eir doesn't push the issue and lets Braham decide if and when he wants to try reconnecting. She hurt him. He gets to decide if he lets her back into his life. And that is important. 

You could call her a bad mom for being absent, though really, you'd be doing her a disservice. She never filled the role of a mother. She knows that fact, she doesn't pretend otherwise. When Braham gets a chance to speak with her spirit outside of Sun's Refuge, she tells him to focus on his actual family and let go of her, because she understands she was never there for the key moments of his life, but he has people right next to him now who were and are. Reducing her down not just to a mother, but to a bad mom, ignores so much of her character and who she is. 

Now let's compare her arc with Braham to Rytlock. 

Rytlock Brimstone is a fellow member of Destiny's Edge, fighting along side Eir and the others. He's also tough and strong, but he hates admitting when he makes mistakes, he hates apologizing, and he hates asking for help. He is the mentor for the charr personal story, where he is shown to play favorites at least a little, and he later on seems to be a sort of mentor to Rox as well, a younger charr and close friend of Braham's. 

Even just from how Rox views Rytlock, we can tell he probably isn't the best mentor, as she fears punishment and potentially death when she chooses to put Braham's life over dealing the killing blow to Scarlet Briar. 

Then there's his relationship with his own son, Ryland Steelcatcher. In charr society, it is standard practice to pass your cub on to the fahrar so they can be trained and prepared. Parents aren't supposed to participate in their cubs' lives after that point. Most still will though. Rytlock wasn't among the parents trying to participate though. He was entirely hands off with Ryland, even as Ryland's mother, Crecia Stoneglow, was taking an active part in his life. 

Much like Eir, Rytlock is absent from his son's life for mostly cultural and partially personal reasons. I would like to point out here that Eir is called a bad mom pretty vocally but I've never once heard Rytlock referred to as a bad dad by the fandom. 

Now, there's a huge difference in how Eir and Rytlock handled reconnecting with their children. Even when Eir wanted to, she didn't try until Braham reached out and acknowledged his connection to her first. She let the one she hurt make the first move and lead the process. Rytlock doesn't do that. 

After seeing the commander and Aurene interacting, and seeing how the loss of Aurene affects both the commander and Caithe, the dragon's two adoptive parents, he takes some time to think about his own cubs and realizes he wishes he'd been more active in their lives and that he could reach out to them now. How does he handle that desire? By going to an event where the person he hurt, Ryland, will be and will be expected to be civil so Rytlock can corner him and try to force himself back into his son's life. He doesn't give Ryland space. He doesn't give Ryland the ability to choose if it's time to reconnect. He hurt Ryland by being absent and shows no understanding of that. And if he does understand that he hurt Ryland, he simply expects to be forgiven for that because he changed his mind. 

And yet, he's Dadlock. He fathers the commander in fanon more than he ever did his own children. People act like he did no wrong. As I said, the idea of Dadlock itself doesn't bother me, but it does when it's presented side by side with the idea of calling Eir a bad mom. You can't forgive Rytlock for doing exactly the same thing Eir did while demonizing Eir for it. It's a double standard we see a lot. A man can get away with it, but a woman can't.  

Eir, a complex character, can't be forgiven for a mistake she made and owned up to time and time again while trying to make up for it. Instead she has to be boiled down to simply A Bad Mom. Rytlock, on the other hand, can make the exact same mistake, and handle it worse. But it's fine, nobody's perfect! He's a complex guy after all. But it isn't fine. It's a sexist double standard. 

[hqbbg]

butterflies.

pairing: bokuto x chubby fem!reader

summary: bokuto doesn’t understand why everyone’s giving you a hard time.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6K

warnings: people are mean to reader >:(

You saw many flaws about yourself growing up, whether they were first pointed out to you by your parents, schoolmates, or even the cashier lady at the supermarket. The one particular flaw that seemed to follow you around throughout all the years seemed to revolve around one thing: your weight.

Looking in the mirror, you used to not see what was so wrong with how your body looked. You truly didn’t think you looked as overweight as those around you made it seem, but their words began to contaminate your thoughts and soon, you saw what they saw: someone who simply did not fit into a conventionally “beautiful” body, a standard set by models on magazine covers.

Some people had called you cute while growing up, but as you sat in your classroom during your second year of high school alone while others had gone to join their friends, you most definitely felt like all the kind words people had told you before held no meaning or sincerity to them.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You’ve been hearing this every other day lately. It was always at the beginning of lunch time, give or take a few minutes depending on the day. The source of the brief disturbance to the white noise of the classroom was none other than Bokuto Koutarou, a third year. He always came to hang out with Akaashi, a classmate of yours that sat a few rows down from you.

You had seen Akaashi once or twice last year in the hallways, but never spoke to him, and even this year as his classmate, you barely exchanged any words. He seemed like a relatively quiet and observant person, so part of you wondered how he and Bokuto seemed so close yet were polar opposites.

You had been lost in your own thoughts, too busy staring off into space to notice a few classmates come up to sit at the desks around you.

“What, is our little piggy not hungry today?”

This was not unfamiliar territory for you. Once or twice throughout the week, a few students would get bored with themselves and decide to pick on you or taunt you. Usually, you would ignore them with your head hung low, and they would just get bored again, deciding to leave you alone until they saw another opportunity to mess with you.

Things like this used to bother you a lot more than they did now. Of course, their words would still keep you awake at night occasionally, but you’ve learned to move on.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to lose weight before; nothing just seemed to work. It was as if your body had reached its current weight and stubbornly refused to change, no matter how much your heart and mind willed it. Your mother would toss in a few comments here and there about how boys wouldn’t want you because of this complex of yours and your father wouldn’t stand up for you. You supposed they were right, since the only time boys were interested in talking to you was to either make fun of you or compare notes after class.

“Did you not hear us, piggy?”

“You guys are talking in her face, so I’m sure she heard you loud and clear.”

You snap your head up towards the source of the voice and see Bokuto looking over in your direction. He has an unreadable expression on his face and your eyes flicker towards Akaashi as he also looks in your direction, his face blank with indifference to the situation.

“With all due respect, this doesn’t concern you,” replies one of the boys sitting in front of you.

“How rude,” says Bokuto. “Akaashi, you never told me how mean your classmates were!”

The third year turns to look at Akaashi, a pout on his face as he points to the group around you. Any thoughts you had of him being cool for butting in and momentarily diverting the attention away from you have all disappeared and it seems that everyone’s mental image of the suave and cool upperclassman have collectively shattered.

“Everyone is mean to Y/L/N-san,” Akaashi replies coolly.

You have to admit, as much as that statement should irk you, it doesn’t because you know it’s true.

“Why?” Bokuto turns his head back and looks directly at you. You feel yourself stiffen in your seat. He blinks his eyes a couple times, as if he can’t understand what anyone could possibly be giving you a hard time for. Part of you finds it refreshing, but another part of you is skeptical.

“This guy’s weird,” mutters one of the girls next to you. “Let’s just go.”

You feel a little dumbstruck as you watch the students around you stand and walk away before your eyes slowly return back to the pair of boys who are still staring at you. You can feel your face heat up at the realization that their eyes haven’t left you yet and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, clearing your throat.

“T-Thanks.”

Before anyone else can say anything, you quickly grab your lunch and head out of the room, muttering halfhearted apologies to the students you bump into as you walk down the hall. You make your way to the rooftop where a few other groups of students are enjoying their lunch and find yourself a decent and secluded spot. Maybe the fresh air would cool you down and prevent yourself from overthinking the situation that had just unraveled.

The next few days, you avoid eating lunch in the classroom and go back to the spot on the rooftop; you aren’t disturbed there and find it quite peaceful. You get used to not hearing Bokuto’s unique greeting and things seem to slowly go back to how they used to be.

“Hey, long time no see!”

You glance up as you walk down the hall, seeing Bokuto walking towards you, presumably heading back to his class as you head for yours. Although you’re sure he’s addressing you, you glance around to ensure that it really is you he’s talking to.

“Yeah, you! You’re in Akaashi’s class,” Bokuto laughs heartily as he walks up to you, stopping only a few paces away. “You know, no one really answered me when I asked why everyone is so mean to you.”

You can only look up at him, unsure what exactly his motives might be. There’s no way he’s this oblivious, right? You’ve heard stories about him, being a remarkable volleyball player and assumed that he would be intelligent. Was that limited to just volleyball?

“I should get back to my class,” you reply, bowing your head halfheartedly before rushing back to your classroom.

Needless to say, you’re socially awkward. No one has really given you this much attention without throwing a blatant insult at your face, so you’re unsure how to handle it. It isn’t until a week later when you miss the timing of heading to the rooftop for lunch and see Bokuto enter the classroom, making a straight beeline to sit in the empty desk in front of you, facing you. Akaashi has also moved closer, sitting in the desk to your right, looking at you with the same indifferent expression on his face.

“So, I’ve really been trying to figure it out for the past week and a half,” says Bokuto, propping his elbow on your desk as he leans his chin onto his palm, “and I still don’t get it.”

Your eyes flicker back towards Akaashi, but he doesn’t move a muscle that indicates that he’s helping you get out of this situation.

“W-Well, I…”

What’s he talking about? What are you supposed to say?

“Are you mean? Is that it? You seem like a normal girl, so I really don’t understand why everyone treats you so poorly,” says Bokuto, not letting you finish your half-developed thought. Is he teasing you? Is this some cruel way of indirectly making fun of you?

“Do you really not see it?” You ask, finding some rare confidence spurred by the thought of his antics being motivated to hurt you like everyone else.

You finally look into his eyes and see no malice in them, quickly casting your eyes back down when you can feel yourself blushing at the innocent intensity of his eyes staring back at you.

“Is there something I should be seeing?”

“I,” you pause. You’re suddenly afraid to say your next sentence because it’s a thought that was drilled into your brain since you were younger, but say it anyways. “I’m fat.”

Bokuto frowns.

“So?”

Well, that wasn’t an answer you were expecting.

“Huh?” You look at him again, brows furrowing slightly.

“What he means is, he doesn’t see why that’s a reason for you to be bullied,” Akaashi speaks up. Bokuto nods his head quickly, realizing the mistake in his word choice.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant!”

You narrow your eyes slightly in suspicion.

“No, really, Y/N! You look perfectly fine to me.”

You try not to show your surprise upon hearing Bokuto say your name, but you’re not sure how well you hide it. You want to question how he knows your first name, but something tells you that the boy sitting to your right has something to do with it.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

“If anyone gives you a hard time, let me know! I’ll take care of it for you,” Bokuto sits up, puffing his chest. You’re hesitant but feel your lips tug into the slightest smile.

“You don’t have to, Y/L/N-san. He’s all bark and no bite anyways,” says Akaashi. You feel your lips pull a little further into a smile. Bokuto looks like he’s about to complain or whine to Akaashi, but is stopped when he looks at your face.

“Wow, so you do know how to smile,” Bokuto grins at you. “You should do it more often. It suits you.”

That might’ve been the first time in your whole life to have ever felt butterflies in your stomach.

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (3/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9K and change, but also stuff happens AN: I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate you continuing to appreciate this story. It’s exceptionally nice, and I think you’re wonderful. Here’s a whole slew of feelings and tradition and magic. Like, lots of magic. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the start

————

This is a problem. 

Multiple problems, honestly. Like, at least seven different problems that Emma can think of off the top of her head, and obviously the most pressing is getting back to the right part of her timeline, but only marginally less distressing is the overall domesticity of her life at this point of her timeline. 

It’s more than the pillows. Of which there are just an absolutely ridiculous amount, actually. They hover in couch corners and fall to the floor with alarming regularity because, between the two of them, Hope and Lucy are something akin to forces of nature, hopped up on Christmas-type sugar and the cookies that people apparently just hand out on the street in Storybrooke. Someone’s always got some sort of baked good, freshly out of the oven — and while Emma’s discovered she’s particularly partial to Granny’s snickerdoodles, she can’t imagine any of this is very efficient. 

For Storybrooke’s economy, or whatever. 

There’s no bank. Emma looked. And asked. Several dwarfs, actually. All of whom immediately bowed and narrowed their eyes at her like she’d totally lost her mind, which seems pretty accurate at this point. Five days after waking up on that couch, with all of its pillows and questionable comfort, and only a handful of people actually know what’s going on. 

Not Hope. 

And no one actually told her to do that, but Emma figures it’s kind of like deciding to take her boots off in the house. Polite. Plus, a growing determination not to traumatize a ridiculously cute four-year-old, even when that four-year-old appears to be far more adept at stealing cookies than anything else. 

Crumbs line the counter in the morning, and there’s usually a bit of evidence directly outside Hope’s bedroom door, signs of a late-night theft that shouldn’t make Emma smile. She does anyway. Can’t seem to stop it, which might be problem number four. Three is definitely Killian’s consistent lack of jacket, which admittedly is a very surface problem, but the button-up shirts are all ridiculously patterned, and trying not to ask who initially took him shopping is like, problem, three sub-a. 

So, no one tells Hope that her mom isn’t her mom. Technically speaking, at least. They go through the motions, and Emma smiles when she’s supposed to, and she eats what is undoubtedly the world record for snickerdoodle consumption by a wayward princess, but trying to be herself, while also not being herself continues to be a rather daunting prospect. 

Particularly because whomever Regina believed would know more about Neverland vegetation and its ability to ruin everything is taking their sweet time responding or showing up in Storybrooke, and they’ve tried what feels like several thousand things to get Emma back, but magic beans were a no-go, and some very fancy wand didn’t do anything except infuriate Regina with it uselessness, and it’s still Christmas, so there are apparently a metric shit ton of traditions and expectations, and—

“Wait, what?” Emma asks, perched on the edge of her desk in the station because that’s at least something she’s used to. Less so to Killian’s presence at the only other desk, and she doesn’t remember the only other desk being quite so close to her’s, but it’s entirely possible that’s a trick of her not-quite coherent mind. 

Might be problem six. Maybe seven. Making it six gives it power, and acknowledges how much the state of his tongue continues to affect her cognitive abilities. Of which there were already very few, especially while she was exhausted in Neverland, and Emma’s not willing to risk anymore. 

“It’s something of a requirement,” Killian says, not for the first time. Princesses have a ridiculous number of requirements, Emma’s rather quickly learned. And he can’t seem to sit straight in any chair. Also ridiculous. 

“Does that not hurt your spine?”

Shrugging, he smirks at her and that’s been happening more often. Not that she’s keeping track, or anything. She’s just—aware, that’s totally the right word. Of him, and what he does with his face and his patterned shirts, and there’s been no bare arm again, but Emma’s still not really his wife, and she knows the hours he’s spent holed up in one of the copious rooms in their quasi-mansion have been dedicated to research. 

And getting his wife back. 

That’s fine. It’s fine. Definitely not a problem. Hasn’t even crossed her mind. 

Emma doesn’t want him to want her. Like, ever. 

And they’re waiting for her dad, anyway. To report back on some magical failing in Wonderland. Seriously, everything is so fine that it's almost a problem as well. It’s too fine. Everything is—

Great. 

“Are you concerned about the state of my spine, darling?”

Melting is not an option — so far as Emma is aware of, but it’s certainly very appealing in the moment. When that moment includes tilted lips and an angled neck seemingly designed to ensure Killian’s hair falls artfully across his forehead, as if the strands are there to frame his eyes and the hint of light in them. 

She takes a deep breath. 

The light brightens. Or she imagines. 

“A tree lighting, though,” Emma says, not-so-subtly changing the subject. Killian’s brows jump. Up his forehead and past those strands of hair she’s only passably obsessed with. “Isn’t that kind of...I don’t know, it’s not very fairy tale.” “Regina lights the candles with magic, if that helps.” “So why do I have to be there?” “The monarchy usually stands on a platform, waves lovingly to their subjects and—” “—God, how is there more?” Emma balks, but that only gets her a more powerful smirk and eyes that are far too blue to be fair, and they still haven’t painted the dining room. She’s not going to ask about that. 

She’s not. 

“This is something of the central hub for the rest of the United Realms,” Killian explains, “and with Regina and the Charmings here, it makes sense that people...flock.” “Like birds.” “Not the ones your mother can commune with, but I suppose the metaphor is appropriate.”

“Who decided to hold Regina’s queen election?” Eyeing her speculatively, Emma does her very best not to wither under Killian’s expression. She’s not altogether confident it works, but they’ve almost come to something like an understanding, and it’s very easy. This, them. No, not them. There’s no them and while Emma’s done her fair share of staring, there can’t be a them now because that will undoubtedly fuck with the timeline and probably everything else, just to keep inspiring problematic lists, and her increasing desire to kiss him until he also has to deal with wobbly knees is just something she’s going to have to deal with. 

“Maybe I won’t remember when I get back,” Emma reasons, but that one word comes out as wobbly as her knees have been and Killian purses his lips. “Ok, fine—tell me something totally random, then. A fun-fact, as it were.” “Random.” “Do you not know what that means?” He rolls his eyes. “I know at least three more languages than you do, so—” “—No you do not!”

Nodding, Killian smiles over the edge of his coffee mug, and neither one of them mention that his proclivity to drinking a gallon of coffee every morning could probably be this so-called fun fact. “English, obviously, and—” “—Ok, I can clearly speak English,” Emma argues. She nearly bites her tongue in half at the force of Killian’s answering look, part amusement and even more heat and that only circles her back around to the melting thing. 

“Aye, but I definitely know more curses than you do, so that’s got to count for something. Also that’s simply my base language, as it were.” She sneers. He chuckles. Into the mug, but it feels like the emotion behind it sinks under Emma’s skin and times up with her pulse, less erratic than it had been those first few nights, and she’s actually started sleeping consistently. “Then of course, I’m rather familiar with Latin.” “Dead, it doesn’t count.” “Impressive, though.” “Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, Captain.” “Unnecessary, when I know you’ll be all wide-eyed and amazed in a moment,” Killian promises, swinging his legs to prop his feet on the edge of her desk. “There’s also Greek, and—” Waving her hands, Emma doesn’t explicitly try to swat at his legs, but he’s just so goddamn close, and still exuding heat, and she’s starting to have some assumptions about that as well. Of the possibly magic and decidedly—no she’s not doing that. They’re not that. Not like this, anyway. And Killian doesn’t immediately move, but that only lulls her into a false sense of security, the metal of his hook is cold enough that she yelps when it circles both her wrists.

“Fairy,” he finishes, and Emma refuses to believe he leans forward on purpose. 

“No.” “You keep objecting to my facts and you’ll give a man a complex, Swan.” “Why would you know Greek, you’re a—” “—Fairy tale character?” 

Emma presses her lips together. So as not to make an undignified noise. She’s already whimpered enough, and cried more than she thought possible and the hitch in his voice threatens to shatter several things. Moving her hands is impossible, which is probably for the best, but all of her would very much like to cup his cheek, if only to see if he’ll kiss the inside of her wrist, and she’s like ninety-two percent positive he would. “Pirate prince,” she corrects lightly, and does get her a smile. “Do you have an official title here?” “Captain.” “That’s it?” “Not impressive enough, huh?”

There’s no music on in the station, but they’re clearly dancing all the same — around each other, and the maelstrom of feelings Emma is doing a God awful job of ignoring, and at some point one of them is going to have to pull away from the other. In more ways than one. 

“I didn’t say that,” she shakes, “and don’t bother telling me it’s another argument, I don’t care. I’m just—curious, I guess.” “About me?”

Nodding is the least dangerous response when she’s so worried about tripping over her own feet in this metaphorical waltz, but it’s one of the more accurate things she’s said since she got here, and now she’s got an excuse. No repercussions, nothing exactly permanent about these conversations, or this information, and no one’s told her whether or not she’ll retain her memories once she gets back, but they also don’t know she’ll get back so—

Fuck it, honestly. 

“Yeah,” Emma replies, not bothering to gloat when Killian’s the one whose eyes go wide first. 

“Oh.” “Is that unexpected?” “Maybe at this point.”

Humming, she files that away, preening slightly under the not-quite-compliment. “Not an answer though. Habit of yours.” “Not really, you’re just very demanding in this incarnation.” “Product of my situation, I guess.” He laughs. It’s something that happens more often here than it did when Emma knew him — knows him, whatever tenses get confusing in time travel. Still, the sound consistently manages to catch her off guard. Free and easy, and the magic that rustles in the back of her brain might deserve its own list. 

Or another conversation with Regina. “The Royal Navy,” Killian says, an answer Emma nearly forgot she wanted. Her eyes widen. He looks triumphant. “See, told you.” “Like an Enchanted Forest GI bill, huh? See new lands, learn new languages.” “Something like that, aye.” “How’d you get to fairy?” “Did you meet the Lady Bell before—” “—I got yanked out of Neverland?” Emma quips, and it might be a defense mechanism. Making jokes, but she also hasn’t gone into detail about the plant-thing yet, and that might be because she doesn’t want to freak him out. 

Anymore than he already is. He spends at least an hour in that room every night. 

“Yeah, I did,” she adds,” after she kidnapped Regina and told us Greg and Tamara were dead, which...y’know—” “—Wasn’t the worst thing in the world?” “Does that make me a horrible person?” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” “Are you going to tell me you learned fairy language from an actual fairy?” “Not much else to do on a hellish island for several hundred years, and it’s a rather complicated tongue. Takes some practice.” “Oh, you’re doing that on purpose now.” The speed of his grin is like molasses. Emma assumes. She’s not sure she’s ever encountered molasses in real life. Even so, the whole thing is bordering on obscene and the opposite of the Christmas spirit and—“Alright,” she concedes, “learning fairy is actually pretty impressive.” “You flatter me, love.”

“What’s your favorite fairy curse word and do you think anyone would be totally scandalized if I used it during this super fancy, exceptionally royal tree lighting?” 

Absolutely, goddamn obscene. The tip of his tongue finds the corner of his mouth, and his eyes get noticeably darker, Emma’s pulse picking up until she’s sure they can hear it on the other side of town, and there’s already barely any space between them, but that appears to be decreasing with every passing second. She’s got no idea who’s moving. She might be moving. 

God, she hopes she’s moving.

Losing control of her limbs may send her off some ledge. 

And she’s just about to throw caution to the seemingly ever-present wind that comes off the harbor, because the front of this patterned shirt looks particularly yankable, but the station door creaks, and a muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps and David clicks his teeth exactly once when he walks in. 

“Interrupting something, am I?” “No, no,” Emma stammers at the same time Killian mumbles “absolutely not,” and neither of those things sound all that honest. 

She’s never gone into cardiac arrest, but if this is what it feels like, it’s kind of disorienting. 

“You hear about the tree lighting, Emma?” David asks, and that’s obviously where her inability to tactfully alter the course of a conversation comes from. Killian rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, slumping back into his chair. 

Exhaling feels like an admission of guilt, but Emma can’t have anything to feel guilty about here, and she hopes Killian’s getting sleep. On the couch. He keeps sleeping on the couch. 

Of course he does. 

“Do I have to wear a gown or anything?” “It’s outside,” David says, “there are trees involved.”

Killian’s hook pokes at his chair arm. “Only one tree, as far as I knew.” “Why are you like this?” “You’re charmed by it, I know,” he chuckles, eyes flashing towards Emma. Coincidence, she’s sure. Her cheeks are very warm. 

She’s very warm. Passably magical, maybe. 

David sighs. “No, there are no gowns. It is in fact only one tree, and Em—you don’t have to say anything. Regina will thank people for coming, Snow will open up the meal and that’ll be that.” “Should I know what the meal is?” Emma asks, and her gaze doesn’t automatically drift towards Killian either. It just, sort of—meanders there, naturally. His tongue is still doing that thing. 

“I was going to get to that part eventually.” “There’s kind of a reception,” David explains, “with cookies.” ���Shit, how many cookies can one United Realm eat?” “An exceptional amount,” Killian mutters, and Emma might guffaw. While realizing why her other version had been baking so much before. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” David adds, “just show up and smile, and you’ll get some cookies out of it.” “Will I not get cookies if I don’t smile?” Not able to stop whatever noise rumbles out of him, the force of Killian’s grin makes Emma glad she’s sitting down again. “I’ll swipe you some if you don’t.” “Very gallant.” “Happens from time to time.” Flirting in front of her father is wrong. That’s if this counts as flirting. As far as Emma knows, most of their banter has been a product of their mutually ridiculous lives, and whatever situation they’ve found themselves in at the moment, but this moment doesn’t hold any danger and it is so goddamn easy. 

She smiles. 

Killian beams. 

David sighs again. “Anyone want to hear about Wonderland now? Or how the White Rabbit can’t draw any portals? Or—” “—This is a really extensive list,” Emma grumbles, and Killian’s smile is going to get stuck on his face. Permanently. She’s very charmed by the crinkles around his eyes. 

“Tinker Bell is here.” Slamming his feet back onto the floor, Killian practically snaps to attention, and Emma’s body goes through another reaction she does not expect. What feels suspiciously like jealousy rattles down her spine, rooting her to the spot and drying out her mouth and David’s far too observant. 

He clicks his teeth again. “When?” Killian asks, already standing and offering Emma his hand. She takes it, not thinking about what that means — or how it affects the half-green tint clouding her vision, and her heart misses a beat. As soon as his fingers lace through hers. 

“Just now. Went to Regina’s, but I had to come here, so one of Snow’s birds told me.” “You can talk to the birds too?” Emma balks, stumbling while Killian all but yanks her towards the door. 

“No, no, they carry messages now.” “Ah of course.” “Did Tink say anything yet?” Killian demands, David already shaking his head and they’re picking up speed. All but jogging down Main Street and towards Regina’s office, and the nickname probably isn’t important. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s all going to be good. 

Even when the fairy in question snaps towards the office door as it swings open, practically lighting up when she notices Killian and Regina’s eyes go noticeably thin. Staring at Emma like she’s trying to read her mind. 

Her fingers are still tied up with Killian’s. “Hook,” Tinker Bell exclaims, and she doesn’t have any visible wings so she can’t fly out of her chair. She tries all the same, arms that bump Emma as they hug her not-quite husband and he mutters a greeting. It takes a moment for Tinker Bell’s gaze to find Emma, trying and failing to keep her expression even, and Killian might chuckle. 

She kicks his ankle. 

“Emma,” Tink breathes, “it’s good to see you again, you have to get the hell out of this timeline.”

“So, that’s it,” Tinker Bell finishes, shrugging like Emma’s not dangerously close to fully breaking down and Killian’s thumb keeps tapping the side of her palm. Because he’s still holding her hand. Cool, it’s cool. She’s not totally preoccupied with that. 

Regina’s totally staring, anyway. 

“Will-o-wisps,” Killian says, “I thought that was a rumor.” More shrugging. There’s too much shrugging for Emma. “I’ve never heard of it in practice,” Tinker Bell reasons, “but can you think of another plant in Neverland that could do such a thing? That rumor you’re talking about always mentioned how it would draw a traveler in, bewitch them with lights and—were there lights, Emma?”

She nods. Swallows, or tries at least. But her tongue is expanding again, and her heart might be shrinking, and the whole thing feels like a very cruel trick. 

“Pan would have known about all of that,” Tinker Bell continues, “and used it to his advantage. If he could get Emma to follow the light, then she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” “But I didn’t actually move anywhere,” Emma argues. “There was no following the light.” Regina exhales. “Probably more metaphorical, giving into what the light offered.” “Which was?” “This, obviously. What we talked about, and what you thought you couldn’t ever have while you were stuck in Neverland, convinced of a whole slew of wholly negative things. So, there was no walking, but—” “—I wouldn’t have just run away!” 

Voice cracking is a sign of impending mental breakdown, Emma’s sure. As are Killian’s tightening fingers, although she’s starting to depend on those fingers just a bit because sitting hadn’t even crossed her mind before and now that might be the only reason she’s still standing.

That keeps happening. 

“Doesn’t sound like you had a choice,” Regina says, “if Pan wanted to tempt you, will-o-wisps seem like the perfect way to do it. See the light, get pulled into this future, he gets Henry, and everything he wants.” “But Henry is here. He’s—he’s a grown man, with a kid and—” “—None of that is set in stone,” Tinker Bell interrupts, magic roaring in Emma’s ears. Killian’s going to cut off the circulation to her hand. “With you out of the way, Pan’s got a straight shot at the heart of the truest believer, he can change what you would have eventually done. Make sure he gets the magic that’ll save Neverland. That’s why everything else is falling apart.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Magic,” David clarifies. “All of it acting strangely? Turns out that is because of you, kid.” Scoffing makes her lean forward awkwardly, but Killian doesn’t mention the strain it’s undoubtedly putting on his arm, and letting go of her hand is disappointing for about two seconds. Before it turns into his arm around waist. 

Regina’s expression turns calculating. 

“Again,” she says, “it’s what we talked about. Things falling apart because you got pulled off the board. Into this exceedingly tempting place.”

Widening her eyes at the unspoken judgement doesn’t do anything to alter Regina’s face, but Emma didn’t really expect it to and her eyes hurt. From not crying. She can’t possibly cry anymore. “I’ve never been to Wonderland, though. How could I fuck up its magic?” “You’ve been other places, love,” Killian murmurs, “and all of that has ripple effects. Savior saves one place, and other realms reap the benefits.” “Is Neverland in the United Realms?” “No.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he echoes, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “What do we do now, Your Majesty?”

Taking a deep breath, Regina lets it out almost immediately — staring at limbs and their out-of-place placement for a moment, before glancing at Tinker Bell. Who shrugs, again. Emma’s going to scream. Before she cries. Maybe then all the emotions will balance out. “We figure out a way to get Emma back to the right place, so she can save Henry and defeat Pan, then we hope that things haven’t been altered so much in the past that this version of the future crumbles entirely.” “What was that about no pressure before?” Emma huffs, David laughing under his breath and the feel of something on her hair is absolutely not Killian’s lips. “And honesty, what options do we have left? As far as time travel goes.” “Eh, we're far from exhausted on possibilities,” Regina says. “Just need to get creative.” Tinker Bell’s gasp is very loud. “Have you tried—” “—No,” Killian cuts in, sharper than anything else he’s said. “That’s not going to work.” “But you haven’t tried.” “Because it’s not an option.” “Oh, that’s very negative.” He hums, and Emma waits for the rest of the conversation. Another verbal volley, but it doesn’t come and Tinker Bell looks very disappointed. She’s got another migraine. “How long do you think we have until this future just—disintegrates?” Emma asks. 

She counts to twenty-four before anyone replies. “Maybe a couple days,” Regina replies, “a week at most.” “So—Christmas, then?” “I bet he didn’t plan that on purpose, just one of those crazy happenstances.” “Yuh huh.” “Try and sound more convincing next time, that one sucked a bit.”

Hearing the so-called queen of these supposed United Realms utter the word sucked without a hint of irony is not what Emma expects to be the straw that breaks her back, but it is and her back hurts, and all of her aches, and saving people is her gig. She’s got to figure out a way to do that. No matter what. 

She can’t do that while standing here. With three matching looks of concern, and one of absolute and total fear boring into the side of her head, and Emma’s also very good at running.

That would suggest she’s got control over her limbs, though. Stumbling down the stairs, she makes it about three-quarters of the way down before the whole thing is too challenging and her lungs appear to be disappearing, or possibly melting, and something in her spine cracks when she falls forward. 

Hair brushes Emma’s knees, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs and the volume of her breathing and the hand that lands on hers doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Killian instructs, only for Emma to flat out fail at that too. 

Becoming a very frustrating theme. “Why are you so worried about my oxygen intake?” “It concerns me that you’re not, actually.”

Letting out a breath she definitely could have used, Emma’s head lolls. Towards his shoulder and the very solid nature of him, and he doesn’t try to roll her off. Just shifts his arm so it’s back around her waist and that does make it a bit easier to keep her lungs functioning. 

“Was it all of reality collapsing, or Regina using that particular word?”

Emma groans. “Mind reading’s kind of a violation of privacy.” “Invoking my pirate excuse.” “That’s not a thing.” “Eh,” he says, and she hears the smile. That’s...nice. “Having no regard for laws is something of a requirement for piracy.” “This is not working as well as you think it is.” “I respectfully disagree. We’re going to fix this, you know that, right?” “I can’t imagine how.” “Sheer stubbornness hardwired into your personality.” Laughing hurts her very tight and anxiety-riddled chest, but Emma can’t help herself and she’d been right about the smile. Magic flutters under her skin, a steady pulse that’s slightly different than her normal pulse because it’s also more consistent and Killian’s nose is close enough to brush her cheek. If he wanted. 

She wonders if he does. She’d like him to. 

But that’s another problem, and more danger than anything Neverland could offer, and—“Fuck Peter Pan, honestly,” Emma proclaims, Killian’s response warm on her skin because it also includes a sound drifting close to a guffaw and she supposes his mouth is as close as his nose. What with the general structure of faces, and all. 

He kisses her cheek. 

Quick — barely there, really. Over before it has a chance to register, but Emma’s certain she’s been catapulted into the stratosphere, and he blinks almost hyperactively at her. She’s right about the palm thing too. 

He turns into her hand as soon as it finds his cheek. 

“Apologies,” Killian mumbles, retreating back into formalities and behind walls Emma had been clinging to only a few days before. Now they’re just kind of annoying. “Force of habit.”

“Was it the fuck Peter Pan that got you?” “You’ve always been something of a wordsmith.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Emma smiles. “Can I—can I ask you a question?” “No need to preface it, darling.” That’s something like the eighth time that’s happened. In the last two days. Second in the last hour or so. Emma’s not counting that either. “Do you remember this?” “Currently?” “Don’t be an ass,” she snarks, but his hook is around her wrists before she can even try to lift her hands. “The will-o-wisp attack. I—well, it was my turn to watch and I was kind of wallowing because of everything that had happened, and—” Telling him she wanted to kiss him then and now and possibly for the rest of time is also very appealing. And terrifying. Emma bites her tongue. Coward. 

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t.” “Is that weird?” “Decidedly.” “So, then—wait, I’ve got another question.” He lifts his eyebrows. Smirks. Has the absolute cheek to lift his thumb and brush tears away from her skin, and Emma resolutely refuses to acknowledge the shiver that goes through her at that. “What was with your huh’s, then?” “Last night, you mean.” “I said Echo Caves and you totally froze. Is that—” “Quite a lot of things happen in Neverland,” Killian finishes, “and not all of them have happened for you yet.” “Menacing.” He hums again, takes a deep breath that clearly isn’t a sign he wants to kiss her again. When he does not actually kiss her again. Fine, fine, fine, super. “Not all of it,” he says, although the words sound suspiciously like a promise and neither one of them blink when a bird flies through the open window nearby. 

“Are those birds flying in sync?” “Stop talking, you’re going to get us in trouble.” “What was that about pirate code, or whatever?” Grinning up at him and his scowl, Emma can’t help but be a little proud that she’s managed to distract the great and passably royal Captain Killian Jones during the United Realm’s annual tree lighting. Which in retrospect, does seem kind of strange since Emma can’t imagine they actually have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest. 

That’s a conversation for a different time, though. 

For now she’s willing to keep playing distraction, and it’s very fun to flirt. With Killian, specifically. She’ll consider the repercussions of that later, too. 

“As far as I’m aware,” Killian whispers, trying to keep Hope from jumping into the nearest snowbank, “your mother has instructed them to appear at certain and integral points in the ceremony. For dramatic effect.” “Kind of gaudy, isn’t it?” “A requirement of royalty, so it would seem.”

The muscles in her cheeks are starting to ache. From overuse, and that’s—another problem. Being here a tease. That one strand of hair that always manages to fall towards Killian’s right eye is the worst. 

“How long have you been holding onto that particular opinion?” They haven't turned the tree on yet, so whatever light reflects in his eyes is more theoretical than anything. Regina must have practiced this speech at some point. No way this is all improvised, not with the dramatic pauses and introductions and— “Oh shit,” Emma mutters, the ends of Killian’s ears going red because Regina is introducing them and Hope is nothing more than four uncoordinated limbs and Henry snickers very loudly.

Ella elbows him in the side. 

Emma likes her daughter-in-law. She hasn’t allowed herself to think about that title, or the granddaughter it comes with, but she’s getting very good at putting thoughts in boxes and only partially acknowledging what they mean and Killian's hand finds her again. 

Magic rushes from the top of her head to the very bottom of her feet, standing a bit straighter in another pair of boots, and Killian’s whole body moves towards her. So as to make it easier when he openly gapes at her. 

That must happen a lot too, though. No one bats an eyelash. “If you’re all done,” Regina drawls, but Henry isn’t and Ella can’t contain her laugh either. Mary Margaret looks overjoyed. Even as her birds break formation. 

Emma nods. “All good.” “Gods, the whole lot of you are annoying. You know—” Waving one hand, candles burst into flame without a word, multi-colored lights appearing on every branch, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that everyone in the crowd is holding an ornament. 

“What are they for?” she asks Killian, not bothering to lower her face over the cheers. People are cheering for the tree. “They’re wishes, Mama,” Hope cries. “From everyone!”

He nods when the four-year-old doesn’t explain anymore — already rushing towards Mary Margaret and her ornament. “That’s why people come from all over. Aside from the festive nature, and the talented birds, it’s an old superstition. Place an ornament where the candle was, and you’ll get your wish.” “What happens to the candle?” “Supposed to bring it home, and light that space with the feeling of the solstice.”

In any other situation, exhaling as forcefully as she does would be embarrassing. As it is, Emma figures she’s got a thousand excuses and the hand in hers gives no indication of letting go any time soon. So, seems like a wash. “Gods, that’s nice.” “Aye, it is.”

Hope puts an ornament on the tree. 

So does Henry. 

And Lucy. The list goes on and on, but all Emma can do is stand at the end of Granny’s counters and eat her weight in Snickerdoodles. 

She's the worst, frankly. 

Snow starts to fall just as Emma’s wavering between that happy medium of pleasantly buzzed and legitimately drunk, and she’s got to ask someone who doles out the liquor licenses in this realm because it appears Granny’s hand has grown a bit heavy over the years. 

Lucy scampers towards the far window as soon as she notices the storm, already talking a mile a minute and detailing plans with Hope and Neal — and this happy medium makes it impossible for Emma to be too frustrated by that, but she also hasn’t actually asked what happened to Neal or why he doesn’t appear in Storybrooke, so it seems it’s more difficult to rid herself of the self-imposed asshole moniker than she’d like. 

And the bell over the door rattles like it’s the goddamn town crier, another familiar face stepping through the frame. With red highlights in her hair. “Are we doing this, then?” Ruby asks, flanked by a woman Emma doesn’t recognize and another redhead who is obviously not Ariel and it’s strange to see Mulan out of armor. 

“Cap?” Ruby presses, when no one responds quickly enough, “this is happening, right?” Glancing at a wary Henry and back towards a clearly confused Emma, Killian grits his teeth. While she does her best to come to terms with nicknames, and another tradition and Hope tries very hard to climb up Emma’s side. 

So as to yell in her ear easier. 

“It’s snowing, Mama. We’ve got to play!” Emma blinks. “In the snow.” “It’s a...thing,” Killian explains. “Gets almost—” “—Bloodthirsty,” Mary Margaret says, which is not the most shocking thing that’s happened so far, but Emma’s buzz is starting to ebb slightly and someone’s knocking on the door. Another redhead, with her hair in braids and what looks like suspiciously like a crown on her head and David lets out a joyful noise when he notices the guy behind her. 

Mary Margaret tugs at the edge of Emma’s sleeve. She might be nearly drunk too, actually. If her slight wobble is any indication. “In the past,” she starts, “there’s been some notably magical snowstorms here. It was quite an event when Elsa first arrived, but then well—you helped save her, and her sister.” The redhead waves, as if she knows she’s being talked about and Emma can’t fathom how she makes that connection, but she’s getting better at puzzles. “And now,” Mary Margaret continues, “it’s become something of a ritual.”

Ruby gags. “Oh Gods, don’t say it like that. Sounds ruthless.” “Isn’t it, though?” Henry challenges. “The gist is, that Elsa shows up after the tree lighting with her snow powers and we have a snowball fight.” She’s too drunk for this. Definitely well past buzzed at this point. “A snowball fight,” Emma repeats, half a dozen nodding heads replying with equally large smiles and the almost audible sense of anticipation hovering around them. 

Hope widens her eyes. It’s a very good trick. “She practices that,” Killian mutters, more mind reading that Emma doesn’t bother to point out because the redhead is shouting "come on, let’s go'' and that sounds like a command. And bloodthirsty is a very appropriate adjective. 

Teams are quickly formed, alliances announced and the guy Emma realizes is named Kristoff claims “honor must be defended” enough times that it appears to be a catchphrase. Laughter rings out around them, dancing on the magically-induced snowflakes and off the lights, and there aren’t as many candles on the tree anymore, but some flames continue to flicker, casting shadows across faces and snowballs. 

As they fly past Emma’s ears. 

“Your aim could use some work,” Killian says, breathing heavier as he ducks behind a snow drift they’re using as a blockade. Emma sneers. “Where’d the kid go?” “Ours?” She nods. Tries not to die. Only marginally succeeds. Killian doesn’t appear to notice. Force of habit is a very strong rationalization, it seems. “She’s allied herself with her much more impressive brother, who—” Lifting out of his crouch, Killian cups a hand to his mouth, like that will help the volume of his ensuing insult. “—Has clearly been practicing snowball creation in the Wish Realm and only knows how to win by cheating!” “I learned it from you,” Henry calls back. 

David’s laugh is loud enough to disrupt a whole flock of birds. Perched on the branches above his and Mary Margaret’s head. 

Goosebumps make a glorious return to Emma’s arm — and quite possibly her soul, which only seems like an exaggeration until she notices the spots of color on Killian’s cheeks and the bits of snow clinging to his hair. His eyes get bluer when she brushes the moisture away. Have to, if only to explain Emma’s fluttering magic and fledgling pulse and a snowball slams into her left shoulder blade. “Gotta hide better,” Anna calls, the blonde behind her, who is definitely Elsa, shaking with the force of her laughter. Everyone keeps laughing. Everyone is so happy. It’s—

A goddamn Christmas Utopia. 

“You did offer yourself up a bit,” Killian reasons, Emma gasping at the betrayal. Pulling on the front of her now-damp jacket, he tugs her back against his side and they’re very close. Too close. Possibly not close enough. 

“And what would you suggest o ye master strategist?” “Little wordy, don’t you think?”

“I retract my compliment, then.” “Ahaha,” he chuckles, “a compliment, was it? Well that’s totally different, then. Now, if you just stay here with—” The rest of the sentence gets caught up in his grunt and groan and Emma’s not particularly disappointed to see Hope’s return to this side of the snowball fight, but she’s also fairly certain there was a me looming on the tip of Killian’s very distracting tongue and she’d like to hear that. Selfishly. “Oh, switched allegiances again, have you, little love?” “Henry can’t enchant the snowballs,” Hope says, like that’s supposed to make sense and it almost does because Emma has magic, but she’s never tried to use it on snow. At least not yet.

“I don’t—” she starts, only to cut herself off. At the overall circumference of Hope’s eyes, and the color of Killian’s and there’s something to said for sheer force of will. “Gimme a snowball, baby.”

Excitement immediately colors her daughter’s face, smile wide enough that it’s probably a record and Killian doesn’t say anything. Watches without a single shift of his chest, which means Emma is staring at his chest, but he’s also obviously not breathing, and her lungs can’t stand up to much more of this. 

An admittedly lackluster snowball gets plopped in Emma’s upturned palm, and she blinks away the cold like this is old hat. Or something less lame sounding. Snow packs together like—well, magic, she supposes, a perfect sphere that isn’t quite iced over, but won’t fall apart when one of them throws it and obviously Hope’s got to throw it. 

“Ok,” she says, nodding encouragingly. “Who did you want to take down?” Killian’s lips disappear. Behind his teeth. To stop himself from grinning like a maniac, or so Emma very quickly convinces herself. 

“Uncle Kris,” Hope announces, and this family’s apparently only grown in the last decade or so. Maybe Emma should be more concerned about her heart. And its ability to burst. 

“We can do that. Just—toss it up, and…”

She’s got no idea, really. Just generic hope, and a surplus of feeling, but Emma’s always been told that magic is emotion and she’s not sure she’s ever been more emotional, which is a scathing commentary of her life, but this is also her life and— Killian scoops Hope up, an impressive act of balance and dodging incoming snowballs, and Emma will use that emotion as a reasonable excuse for what she does next. Reaching forward, her fingers curl around the brace at the end of his arm, not able to actually touch skin because he’s wearing a leather jacket, and that’s only sort of messing with her mind. But the motivation is the same, and she’s got all those suspicions and thoughts and—

The most powerful magic in the world. 

“Throw it, love,” Killian directs, Hope’s arm pulling behind her like she’s a professional baseball player, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut. Warmth curls at the base of her spine, inching up her vertebrae until it takes root at the base of her skull, spreading out through her brain and the rest of her limbs and he definitely kisses her hair again. 

She’d been counting on that, just a bit. 

Muscles loosen under her skin, no sense of tension or that ever-present anxiety Emma’s always just assumed was part of her genetic makeup. Shouts echo around her, in addition to the snow, but she can’t quite hear any of it over the explosion of magic between her ears, and Hope’s cry of success will probably be branded on Emma for the rest of her life. 

She hopes so, at least. 

Opening her eyes to find Kristoff sputtering, and Anna as impressed as she is indignant, Emma only barely has a chance to catch her breath before there’s a kid flying into her arms. It’s harder to hold her when she doesn’t let go of Killian. And Killian doesn’t pull away. 

He watches both of them. Traces over Emma’s face, the same way she had in the hallway, and something happens. Something important. Passing between them, and cementing itself in her gut and her soul and his lips twitch. At her magic, probably. “Thank you,” Killian mouths, Emma nodding against Hope’s hair. She kisses it. Out of habit, or whatever.

Strands of hair are damp against Emma's temple by the time they traipse back to the house, Hope asleep on Killian’s shoulder. Enchanted snowflakes linger on the back of her jacket, hovering on her eyelashes for maximum effect and peak cute, which didn’t need any help if Emma’s being honest and she might be willing to err on the side of that particular feeling right now. So as to keep the feeling, all year long and maybe even indefinitely. 

Or whatever they said about Ebenezer Scrooge. 

After he learned to love Christmas. And other humans. 

Emma’s still not thinking too hard about that particular word, though. So, maybe complete honesty’s something of a stretch, but the kid is undeniably adorable and it’s admittedly difficult to think straight when Killian is—

Killian. In italicized and underlined lettering, meeting Emma snark for snark, and snowball for snowball, and she really wants to know his Monopoly cheating strategy, but that’s a problem for an entirely different list because that list has impossible words and improbable feelings and he’s staring at her.

Where she’s leaning against their front door. 

Using possessive and collective pronouns isn’t helping her cause. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. For the benefit of the sleeping kid, Emma figures. Not the state of her pulse, or the magic he could feel, and the cyclical nature of time is just toying with her at this point. 

She nods. “Better than, somehow.” “Oh, that’s a little negative, Swan.” “Kind of my schtick, isn’t it.” “Not always,” Killian says, another pair of words that shouldn’t sound like a promise and clearly do not care. Emma feels her smile. Like, possibly in the very core of her being. At least between her ribs, where the growing sense of belonging has decided to linger, this feeling of home and possibility and staying here is not a possibility. Tinker Bell will figure something out. 

Emma will — that’s how Savior’ing works, after all. 

“You know,” Killian adds, Hope humming into his neck and there’s quite a lot of neck. Emma might be staring at his neck. “At some point we concoct this very impressive buttered rum recipe, that’s notoriously good at warding off chills.” Digging her teeth into her lips does not do anything to disperse the butterflies in Emma’s stomach, but she’s also not all that interested in them leaving. “Concerned about my breathing and my overall body temperature?” God, she’s an idiot. 

Flirting isn't quite second nature, though — and Emma’s even less accustomed to flirting as a two-way street, but this feels as easy as it has and will and there’s those tense-based issues all over again. Killian grins. Slow, and measured and inching almost close to lecherous, sparking a handful of other other ideas that—

Immediately disappears when the four-year-old wakes up. 

Brushed teeth take precedence, as do picking out pajamas and Hope is in possession of more pajama sets than Emma knew could exist in one set of drawers. Then there’s a bedding routine, lifting comforters and crawling under sheets and Emma doesn’t know the story requested of her. 

She’s got no idea what happens after Prince Charles spun around with his sword. 

It’s got to be impressive, though. 

“Oh, Hope I—” she exhales, fear creeping back into the forefront of her mind. Until fingers find they’re way back into hers, and they’re just as warm as they always are and it takes Killian less than three minutes to promise a different story on another night. 

No tears are shed, so that’s got to be a victory and Hope’s eyes are already fluttering closed when Killian flicks off the light. Lingering in the hallway, Emma’s not sure what she’s supposed to do or where she’s supposed to go, but there’s a hook pressed into the small of her back and buttered rum turns out to have a ridiculous amount of cinnamon in it. “Shit,” Emma mutters into her glass, and Killian looks far too satisfied. “This is really good.” “Took some trial and error, but we got there eventually. Or get there for you, I suppose.” Sipping instead of responding is another cowardly move, one Emma won’t ever admit to and it doesn’t matter because he can read her mind. At least her face. Open book, and all that. 

“I’m sorry.” Killian blinks. “For what, exactly?” “God, throw a dart. Everything I—showing up in your life and making the right Emma disappear, maybe, and that’s got to be fucking with you, and—” “—You’re not the wrong Emma,” he interrupts, with enough force to pull her up short. Buttered rum drips on her chin. So, she’s a picture of romance and flirting potential. “Just a little early, that’s all.” “Not what you said when I got here.” “Aye, well that was the bastard version of me. He’s a—” “—Bastard?” “Absolutely,” Killian nods, “and maybe a little unsure of himself when it comes to you.”

It’s her turn to blink. More than once, only a little concerned the scene in front of her will change, but it doesn’t and it won’t and there’s got to be a limit on time travel. Emma’s reached her quota by now, she hopes. “Because I’m a mess now? I mean, this version of me. Not the wife one.” “You’re worried about Henry. And I understand that, did then as well. I just—you want to know why the Echo Caves gave me pause? Because if you got tugged right after that, then all you’re sure of is that I think I could move on from Milah, but nothing else has happened for you yet. No promises or—” Swallowing, he sets his glass down and there wasn’t much room between them, but there’s even less now and Emma’s got nowhere to put her hands. Except on his thigh. Where it bumps hers. “Leaving behind that bastard who wouldn’t give you the magic bean was always something of a challenge, but you made me want to. Made it easier to do just that. Because eventually you do trust me, and you believe in me, and—”

He exhales. Licks his lips. Emma can’t move. “The thought of losing that terrified me,” Killian finishes. 

They’ve stopped dancing. Are standing stock-still in the middle of the floor, while other people twirl around and wait for them to get their rhythm back. And Killian doesn’t blink, which is equally frustrating and overwhelming and a much more positive adjective that Emma can’t be bothered with because she’s too busy saying, “I...like you?” “Was that a question?” “Maybe,” she admits, “it’s not really my forte, and I told Neal a bunch of shit in the Echo Caves too, so—is...did my parents name their kid after him?” “Yuh huh.” “Don’t sound particularly pleased.” “We’ll get to that,” Killian says, “Rehash the liking stuff, please.” Maybe laughing at inappropriate times is actually his greatest talent. Emma’s head drops, bumping Killian’s shoulder, but then there’s an arm back around her waist and there’s so much of him, and that’s always been the problem. Opposite of a problem, really. 

“You just—” Emma mutters. “Came back, for us and me and I...that kind of terrifies me too, but you always make sure if I'm ok, and that’s—not a ton of people do that.” “Becomes something of a habit.” “I’m going to ask you a question.” “Still don’t need to preface it.” “Are you Prince Charles in the story?”

Surprise is a good look on him. All of them are, but Emma’s already crossed one emotional threshold and like wasn’t really the word she was thinking about before. “Aye,” Killian says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. 

“Does that make me the princess?” “In almost every story I tell.”

The warmth moves to her cheeks, and the same skin Killian’s fingers graze, coming dangerously close to the edge of her mouth and barely parted lips. “So, uh,” Emma stammers, “not our first time travel adventure?” “Gets confusing when you haven’t done that other part yet.” “Time travel might be overrated, honestly. But we get back, right? That’s—I mean, you’re here.”

Nodding, his nose replaces his fingers and it’s oddly endearing. “If you remember this in the past, I refuse to be held accountable, alright?”

“Seems fair,” Emma laughs, and she thinks she hears him swallow before he responds. “You give up your magic, for me—which is something else I never entirely pay you back for, but then we get pulled into the portal, adventures ensue, including that very impressive spin move, and then your magic comes back.” “How?” “With that wand Regina used before, that’s why she thought it would work.” “You’re skipping over things,” she accuses, and flirting might not be the only two-way street. He’s getting easier to read. “Was that was it you? Helping with my magic?” Shrugging isn’t easy when they’re so tangled together, but Killian’s ears are as red as Ariel’s hair and Ruby’s highlights and—“The only reason I magic’ed that snowball was because I was holding onto you. Control’s not something I’ve got much of right now.” “You would have been able to figure it out.” “Not with a kid waiting, and all those people and—” Problems be damned. Lists be damned. Time itself, be goddamned. “Paying me back is a stupid thing to think.”

“Swan.” Shaking her head, Emma moves before she can reconsider how incredibly dumb this is and possibly even more dangerous, but he keeps staring at her and it’s so easy and normal, and if she were someone who breathed with any sort of regularity, that wold be an appropriate analogy. Killian shifts too, so that helps. 

And she definitely mumbles kiss me like some harlequin romance heroine, but he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t object and the fingers that find her hair help ground her. To this plane of reality. Nice exists for about half a second, before it rather quickly evolves into need and desire and there are hands everywhere. Emma’s and Killian’s — tracing each other like this is the first time all over again, and her back arches once she clamors into his lap. 

Rocking down at the same time he rocks up draws out several sounds Emma’s never heard before, and would not mind hearing on loop. Fingers search out skin, pushing into the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck, and she can’t tilt her head enough. To get the right angle, or more of his tongue and his tongue’s already swiping at her lips. 

He groans again. When she opens her mouth, lets him trace as much as he’d like, and Emma would like even more, but she’s always been kind of greedy when it comes to him and really oxygen is vastly overrated. 

She can’t keep her eyes open. 

Can’t imagine how anything gets better than this, or them and there’s that pronoun again. 

Both of their shoulders heave when they finally have to pull apart, more black than blue in Killian’s eyes and— “We’re really good at that,” she mutters, working a laugh out of him. That he presses against her neck. And under her chin. Drags across her jaw, and up towards her temple, kissing whatever he can reach and everywhere he lands and it takes a power she did not know she possessed for Emma to keep herself from demanding he take his clothes off as well. 

She opts for the next best thing. “Thoughts on sleeping in your own bed?” 

The eyebrows, honestly. Flying up, and reacting quicker than he can respond and Killian kisses her. Soft and easy, and as normal as anything. “Vast,” he says, mostly into her mouth, “and it’s difficult to fall asleep without you, so it’d be nice to actually do that.” “Yeah, ok. That works.”

[eloarei]

A little rambling: on grief; and grieving a dog, a cat, an unborn child, and pieces of me that got hurt along the way. 

2300 words under the cut. 

It’s a very gloomy day today. I don’t usually mind; I like rain. But on a bad day, or a bad week, it only seems to insulate me in my own dark thoughts. That’s what today seems to be. I’ll work on fixing it later-- getting some exercise, sunlight if the clouds clear, making some tea. Should’ve done that already, but I forgot. Ate half a banana, at least. 

As I’ve complained about a few times lately, I’ve just not been doing especially well. When and why did it all start? It’s hard to say, but this ‘unwellness’ spell seems most potent starting April 11th (my anniversary, unfortunately, which is why I can remember it), when I came down with a gruesome stomach bug. Really haven’t been feeling right since. I’m really bad about being sick; it scares me and I handle it badly. I assume that’s part of what has messed me up. 

But grief is the other part, I think. Grief, and my being scared and worried that what caused it could strike again at any minute. Look, I’m... 32 now, and I’m sure that most people by this age have experienced profound loss. I’m probably not unusual, and I’m certainly not alone, but I think all the loss I’ve experienced is just piling up on me now, like there wasn’t enough time to process the new fresh ones before newer fresher ones came on, and so now even the old tough scars are aching. 

When I was a teenager, my parents died. They were old, and it was health problems. It was not a surprise, but that didn’t make it easier to deal with in freshman year of high school. (What made it easier to deal with? Rabidly cleaning out the fridge and watching Lord of the Rings tapes the neighbors lent me. That’s all I did for three days after my mom died.) It’s been a long time-- more than half my life ago-- and I do feel like I’m ‘over it’, but sometimes it just wells up, tears from nowhere. Maybe that’s just how grief is. 

A certainly had a good decade of my 20′s. I got married at 19, and had a pretty uneventful set of years. That felt normal to me. I do think, though, that the loss of my parents haunted me in that time, quietly. It influenced everything I did; it probably still does, if only because it changed the person I have become. But other than that, things were good, I think.  My dog Roxy died two years ago, when I was 30, not long after I got back from seeing my siblings for the first time in ages. She was violently ill, and died right in front of us as we were getting ready to take her to the vet. I think I’ve written about it. In fact, the next day I wrote a depressing fanfic piece, certainly as a coping mechanism. (It made people cry, so, mission accomplished, I guess.) I think that helped a lot. A few months later, my in-laws’ dog died too, while mom-in-law was on vacation, and that was rough as well. I wrote another sad fanfic about death. I really like both of these pieces, because they mean something, and they’re very raw. Furthermore, I’ll always have them, as tokens for Roxy, Ginger, and the little pieces of me they crushed when they died. I don’t know if the exchange is worth it, but it’s what I have. 

My grief over Roxy was gentle, as time went on. It didn’t bother me. I think I’d processed it well. I’d written out my feelings. I held her body in numb arms as my husband dug her grave. It was okay. 

In early 2020, basically on my 31st birthday (and right as Covid was happening), I found I was pregnant. Long story short, those were the densest two months of my life, where everything seemed to change so quickly. My thoughts and feelings could fill so very many pages; this is not the place I’ll leave them. The point of this particular story is that it didn’t work out. The baby ‘died’ not terribly unlike Roxy had-- violently ill, in front of me, with far too much blood. I passed out three times-- the real start of this current fearful nature, because I cannot overstate how very much I felt like I was going to die. I went to the ER; it was miserable, an ordeal I could say quite a lot about. I won’t, though. I have before, and I likely will again, elsewhere. 

This... This grief... I think I still don’t know what to do with it. I don’t think I ever will. Months later, I started writing a fic to deal with my feelings, though it took 90k words and many months before I got to the part where I could really delve into my trauma. And it has helped, I’m sure. I’m really sure. And I care about this fic so much, because like the others it is raw and real and it’s something I’d never have if not for my experience. Again, it may not be a fair trade, but it’s what I have. 

I don’t grieve for the baby. It didn’t make it far enough to even have a heartbeat. It doesn’t have a name, a gender. It doesn’t have a grave. We let the hospital take care of it. But I still grieve. I’m sad. Wrecked. I grieve what it could have been. I grieve the hope that was spent and lost on it, a precious resource that will take a long time to grow back, if ever. I grieve over not only my own disappointment, but my husband’s, and my in-laws. They’ve never pressured us to have kids, but they’re in their 60′s now, with no grandchildren. I think they feel... lacking, in a way. I understand. I feel the same (though different). I wanted to give them that. I wanted to have that. 

I still....?

I can’t say. I don’t know what I want. The event complicated my already complex emotions. I’m still waiting for them to simplify. Maybe they will, or maybe they won’t. 

I was alright for a while. Stressed enough because of Covid and family’s declining health. Then in early April 2021, just a year after the miscarriage, I got badly sick. Gross, but not what most people would call a real issue. But only a year after the miscarriage, when my body betrayed me and I was at its horrid mercy, this felt like too much. Again I felt like I was going to die. A week of near delirious fever and nausea; I’d have handled it badly enough in any other circumstance. 

As expected, I got through it. A horrible week, but just a week (or so). And then my dog Tobi died, just days later. 

This is it. This is the one I... I’m speechless about. The one I... maybe haven’t processed enough. I was just back from the edge of being badly, violently ill. I didn’t have the energy to write, physically or emotionally. And that just made it worse. I love writing. It’s my outlet (surprising, I’m sure). I wanted to write. I thought I ought to write. I needed to write. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t muster the words. I still... can’t. 

Tobi was... my baby. Not literally, of course. I didn’t conflate him with my lost child or anything. Tobi was 14. I’d had him since I graduated high school and got an apartment. Adopting him was one of the first things my husband and I did as an established adult couple, before we were even married. He was there, at my wedding. The photographer took a cute picture of me holding him before the ceremony. He was 11 months old at the time. Still had all his brown spots before they turned tan, then later white. He was there; he was always there. He was my entire adult life. And now I’ve lost him, the pup I had longer than my marriage (though soon we will outlast him). He was the big brother to all my other pets. He practically raised all the cats, and they adored him. (Tobi was a chihuahua, so they might have thought he was just another cat.) 

He was a sweet boy, who loved his mom and dad first and foremost. When he was little, he was scared of everyone else. Eventually he warmed up to strangers and friends, and in his old age he mostly liked to nap somewhere on his own. He was silly and playful; he always chased the cats when they wanted to be chased. It was a game they all loved. 

The vet... well, we took him in when he started to cough badly. He’d had a cough for a few months, but it wasn’t constant and didn’t seem to be affecting his quality of life much. But that day it was bad, so we took him. (We can’t afford frequent vet visits, so this was clearly desperate.) The vet took him and put him on oxygen. We had to stay in the car because they weren’t open for human guests. Then she came and told us a scan had revealed cancer, marbled through his lungs. He was suffocating. In fact, he wouldn’t likely even make it home, not even the two mile drive. We had to put him down. My husband and I cried like babies. We’d never put an animal down before. Generally speaking, we don’t really ‘believe in it’, if that makes sense. But faced with this situation, we had no choice. 

I didn’t see him again. I think that’s the worst part, though it would have been equally bad to see him, I think. And it was all so sudden. He was playing and chasing the cats the day before. Begging for treats of human food. Barking at the Roomba. And then I had to pay hundreds of dollars to say goodbye to him. It felt so unfair. I cried all day. My husband and I, we just went home and laid down and wept. 

But I still haven’t written about it, not in the way that I wrote about the others. For all that I wrote here, it doesn’t begin to encompass my deeper feelings on what it means that he is gone, and how I felt to have to make that decision. I have ideas. I think I know what I would write, if I could, but writing... still mostly eludes me. I may try. I probably should. 

I take a deep breath. I know I should sum this up and take care of myself, but there’s yet a little more to say. 

I think Tobi’s death is a large part of what affects me still, but several weeks ago I had what I could only call a panic attack. In the middle of the night I awoke, my heart beating rapidly, a horrible feeling of dread like certainty that all I could possibly do was die. It took over two days for me to feel mostly normal again, and then I still felt vaguely nauseous for two weeks. Then, just a few days ago, it happened again, but this time before bed. I could feel it rising in me, this indescribable sickness. It took several days ago before I felt normal. And this is where I am now. 

Sadly, a little while after the first panic attack, my husband and I failed to save a malnourished feral kitten. It was not a surprise, but yet one more reminder of the fragility of life, and how little I can do to keep death away from those I care about. This poor thing, it was so desperate to live, but nothing we could do could save it. I could have poured all my time into trying, could have scrounged up money to take it to the vet (when I should take my own cats, who all have colds), but I know better. I know... so much of the time, there’s nothing you can do. And now I’m trying to help what might be its siblings, a few cute feral kittens nearby. My favorite seems... a little lethargic, and not very interested in eating the wet food and meat scraps I sometimes bring by. I don’t think there’s anything I can do, if it ends up being sick, if it ends up being malnourished. I can’t bring it inside when it could infect my own cats. I have to care for them first. 

But knowing that it could die... it bothers me. 

And knowing that I could die. I could die. I’m too aware of that, on top of everything else. I hate doctors, so I never go. (Also I’m poor.) This toothache? Could be a terrible abscess. My brother went to the ER for sepsis from an abscess tooth recently! That’s probably what caused the panic, to be honest. But then... why have I felt so week? Is there a problem with my blood? Am I sicker than I know? Do I have breast cancer? My grandma did, and I know I should get it checked out, but it’s just ONE MORE THING. It’s always like that. 

And that’s... how I feel right now. Covered in ‘one more thing’s on rainy days and night-work schedules. Trying to take care of myself but not always knowing what that means. Lacking the inspiration to do the things I know I enjoy, because worry and apathy holds me back from everything. 

I’m okay. Really. No day of mine is ever entirely without merit, and I have plans to do most of the things that should keep me healthy. But the day is short when my needs and long, and the day is long when I’m paralyzed by apathy. 

So. I’ll just take it a moment at a time. And when I can, I’ll try to keep writing. 

[aeirithgainsborough]

very Important adam/ronan things to take away from the cdth sampler:

“like the other lynch brothers, he was a regular churchgoer, but most people assumed he played for the other team.” i am SCREAMING. top tier gay joke. well timed.

everyone: ronan’s eyes aren’t pretty. adam: mhmm  e y e l a s h e s

much to say about the revelation that ronan is partly at the barns to keep his dreams hidden and in check, and how much he relates an inability to change and be like everyone else to having to stay there. almost like he’s stuck huh! i’ve been saying!!

of note that words used to describe ronan’s existence are BORED and MALINGERED.

fingers crossed he finds some balance between his dreams and his wants/needs that allows him to leave the barns and grow but after the Great Crab Disaster I’M WORRIED.

fire imagery EVERYWHERE. i’m WORRIED again.

“there are stains that spread faster than you drive. if you drive, it’ll take fourteen years to get there. seventeen. forty. one hundred. we’ll be driving to your funeral by the end.” good to know ronan is still the most DRAMATIC boy in the whole of virginia. absolutely no chill.

dont like the possible foreshadowing of that driving to your funeral by the end, though. must leave lynches alone!

“it’s very safe” asjkajjka DECLAN PLEASE 

“ronan kicked one of the volvo’s tires” asjkajjka RONAN PLEASE. 

ronan trying to act nonchalant by cramming chocolate covered peanuts into his mouth and choking a little is Peak Disaster Gay. 

matthew’s music must be awful if ronan and declan are in agreement over it, must have playlist. 

ronan who lives to pretend he doesn’t care wondering if his brothers didn’t say anything about his moving because it didn’t make a difference to them is huhhh. don’t like it, take it away pls.

i’m sorry, ENTIRELY WRAPPED UP IN! ENTIRELY! 

entirely

wrapped

up

in

shut up!!!! shut upppppp! 

“is there any version of you that could come with me to cambridge?” tbh nothing would have readied me for this. adam i-can-do-everything-alone asking ronan if he could go with him. so much growth, too much pride, nowhere to put it, send help.

the fact that ronan doesn’t stay in cambridge when he visits adam because of plausible deniability, that if he doesn’t try there’s no evidence he can’t make it there. rip. 

ronan! missed! him! like! a! lung! 

dramatic again, but entirely relatable bc damn, same ronan, same. 

a) ronan thinking about how his heartbeat is the same as everyone else’s so he wasn’t that different and b) JUST LIKE ADAM’S HEART WHEN HIS HEAD WAS RESTING ON HIS HEAD = much too much to think about. need to lie down for a bit.

he could move to follow the guy he loved!! we all knew it was love, we’ve always known it was love, but! the words. the words!!!!! brb sobbing.

i have only had jordan for a day and a half but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. 11/10 would marry.

art forgery plot confirmed!

THIS WAS HOW IT HAD BEGUN

bitch fkajdkajksja GIVE ME A WARNING. 

still can’t compose myself RE the info that ronan saw adam and immediately sent a desperate prayer up to god 

will the word please ever be the same again? definitely not!

adam’s arms adam’s hands his lovely! boyish! hands!

the description of his expressions with all its contradictions and multitudes is just my favourite thing ever. it encapsulates everything i love about adam fucking parrish.

and the fact that ronan instantly recognised all those multitudes in him. there was always a level of understanding ronan had for adam throughout trc that no one else did and this tells us he had that before he even met him, he just... recognised something in him i just... ;______; 

please 

ronan knowing all the harvard stats because he was the person adam could crow to, how he takes on that adam that is still full of contradictions and multitudes, how he finds it hard but he absorbs all the facts and all of adam’s anxieties, even in the face of his own anxieties about adam leaving and falling in love with the shining, educated people that ronan thinks are better than him. that absolute, unwavering support 😭😭😭

tbh there’s a whole ass lot to unpack in this section so imma try and do it briefly (she says!)

ronan lynch is a romantic cdth confirmed: 

he could have texted adam but he liked the soft surprise of it

over the past few days ronan had played his reunion with adam over in his head MANY TIMES

adam i love you but that outfit sounds awful. you are a student, it’s a friday night, put some sweats on and stuff some cheetos in your mouth. 

the sweet nervousness of their reunion, how they walk past each other and both seem so uncertain. they’re a year into dating and the still get nervous and unsure after a few weeks apart and it’s CUTE and definitely speaks to their excitement/anticipation levels.

THE WATCH. big time softness. 

they hugged hard ;_____; 

im just so relieved that they’re allowed to touch each other and be intimate and aren’t consigned to the ‘boys in love aren’t like that boring boring’ corner. 

the way ronan thinks about how adam fits as he remembered. huh. you’re really gonna do this to me.

his hand still pressed against the back of ronan’s skull the way it ALWAYS did when they hugged. 

you smell like home. you smell like home!!!!!! brb ive gone absolutely fucking feral. 

i both want to play repo because it sounds fun and don’t want to because it sounds complicated and i fucking hate instructions. much confusion. 

adam pressing his shoe hard against ronan’s and then his leg and then breathing in ronan’s ear I AM HOWLING. ronan’s nerve endings being made a marvel of I AM SOBBING. it’s very important that m/m ships are afforded the same level of explicit attraction as m/f (and i don’t mean explicit as in nsfw, i mean as in obvious)

no offence because i love them but all of adam’s friends sound Extra™

“to the outside eye, ronan lynch was a loser” pls ronan, you are giving me an ulcer.

scary spice i asjkjdkjskdjak

queer crying club! i stan!!

also adam saying in the epilogue of trk that he wanted to save all the adam’s hidden in plain view and then going to college and scooping up all the criers and giving them something to do is far too much to handle.

don’t think about that and the time he thought about how he used to spend his nights crying on the trailer steps and wondering why he bothered until gansey came along and offered him friendship. dont think about how he’s essentially paying that forward DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

hand holding, arms around each other, hip to hip walking, can’t wait anymore kissing, I MISSED YOU. love that for me! 

but also the fact that adam reaches down for ronan’s hand and its so natural. ronan’s hand is there so he just. takes it. 

hearing ronan’s thoughts on what happened with robert at last is A Lot. the way it’s still happening, always happening, kept fresh and savage shows how affected ronan was by it all and still is and i think its so important that he’s not just. angry and hot headed. there’s more to it than that. its painful, it makes him feel sick, its unending and it really speaks to how much adam means to him. 

adam thinks he has no one BITCH YOU’VE GOT ALL OF US. 

and ronan. 

but. how he feels like he has nothing still. the way his voice hitches on ‘because’ because it’s all still so painful. i wanna wrap him up. i wanna take everything that hurts away. i wanna tell him he’s so loved. guess i’ll just have to sit back and watch him work his way through it all I GUESS. no but i am looking forward to his growth in this trilogy, especially considering how much he’s grown already. adam parrish invented character growth lets 👏 be 👏 real 👏

it had never been a fight between them/it was a fight between adam and himself, between adam and the world/for ronan it was a fight between truth and compromise, between the black and white he saw and the reality everyone else experienced. i LOVE this. it so well encapsulates them. and it’s so important that they can realise their differing world views and their complexities and meet in the middle somewhere.

“ronan put his lips on adam’s deaf ear, and he hated adam’s father” FUCK ME UP. my absolute favourite bit 103930%. absolute incoherent mess over here. not! okay! see other post for more coherency because i only had it for 5.7 minutes. 

frowning, guarded, crumpled adam who i’ll literally. never be over in all of my life. 38983/10 will love him until the end of time. 

i want it too much. !!!!!! going feral again over here. WHAT DO YOU WANT ADAM? I WANT IT TOO MUCH. definitely will never shut up about this. 

scared adam is going to be a visionary so pretending chapter 6 doesn’t exist. 

LINDENMERE ;________;

i love it already

i CANNOT believe that ronan is being dream invaded and challenged and he’s over here like hmm nice bike ELEGANT and ROUGH and READY like ADAM asjkasj please ronan you are so embarrassing!! 

also. ronan thinks adam is elegant and rough and ready so! there’s that!

i literally. cannot. cope with the HILARITY of chapter 8. the whole thing is a complete and utter DISASTER. it’s absolutely gone off in adam’s room after all his work at constructing a well put together boy. ronan comes for a night and everything goes BONKERS. amazing. 

(really worried about what this means RE ronan being able to exit the barns and grow and change and not be bored and not feel like a loser so we’re focusing on the hilarious disaster of it all.)

p.s. adam sleeping slotted between ronan and the wall OKAY. THIS IS FINE! 

p.p.s. adam’s bed hair is WILD. 

p.p.p.s i have missed adam and ronan so so so so so much and im an emotional fucking wreck

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @that-english-nerd (she/hers)

what are you working on right now? Three things!

My next chapter for my witch!AU where Bellamy is the son of a witch, and Clarke enlists his help to find out what happened to her father and his sister.

And a prompt for @bellarkefic-for-blm  with princess!Clarke and knight!Bellamy. It's a little outside of my comfort zone but I enjoy writing it. I currently have stumbled upon some technical difficulties where I lost everything I wrote for it so now I'm back to square one.

I’m also looking for the next chapter of a Voltron fic I’ve been working on. It’s super silly but it’s ridiculous amounts of fun, I want to write so much for it.

what’s something you’d like to write one day? I think it's been a pipe dream of mine to write a novel that captures the spirit of the YA books I grew up on but that people of all ages can enjoy. I want it to be my ultimate self-indulgent fantasy where I combine all the things I loved as a reader. A fantasy/sci-fi, action, a good satisfying romance, complex emotions.

It's also important to me that the main character is brown-skinned like I am, and that the book discusses different philosophies and cultures without ever saying one is right. Growing up as the child of immigrants, I've always struggled with clashing cultures and it took me a while to learn that neither culture is more right than the other, and that our differences in how we think are what makes being human meaningful. I want something that acknowledges those parts of the human experience without villainizing or glorifying its existence.

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? Honestly? It's this moodboard I made for my Winx Club!AU. I really like how it came out aesthetically speaking, and I'm fond of the story. I do have some things I'd change about the story stemming from the fact I wrote it one sitting but I don't know if I'll ever make the changes. Still. It was a fun piece to write.

why did you first start writing fic? I really, really just wanted to write some more scenes for my favorite couples who I felt were robbed in books. I just wanted to write some cute shit, man. Since then I’ve written for 39 Clues, Maximum Ride, Demashitaa! Powerpuff Girls Z, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Powerpuff Girls, Hush, Hush, Danny Phantom, Giver, Legend of Korra, Jimmy Neutron, Code Lyoko, 100, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Lucifer, and Penryn & the End of Days.

what frustrates you most about fic writing? plot. specifically, non-emotional plot. like what even is that. If the plot is driven by emotional development, it’s still hard to come up with specific structures for moments but like if things need to happen outside of their emotions, oh whee boy do I struggle. For me, emotions tend to naturally evolve from one thing into the next and it’s easy for the characters to lead me where their emotions take them. It’s harder when things need to develop outside of that.

Other than that, motivation is a big roadblock. Struggling with depression, anxiety and my other responsibilities, I can go without touching a piece of writing for months. I feel the itch very often but it’s one that goes unindulged.

what are your top five songs right now? - Experience by Victoria Monét with Kahlid, SG Lewis  - BALI by Rich Brian with Guapdad 100 - Etch by RILEY THE MUSICIAN with Iker - Culver by Mac Wetha

what are your inspirations? Usually pictures or stories! My witch!AU was inspired by an aesthetic picture I saw on tumblr and most of my other stuff has been inspired by other stuff I read. It’s not necessarily specific plot points—though, sometimes some plot threads are too good to give up—but rather the emotional journey the characters go through. Poems and other media also feed the old noggin.

what first attracted you to Bellarke? what attracts you now? It turns out I have a thing for reluctant partners turned lovers. I really liked how the two shouldered responsibilities that no one else really had, and that despite their differences, they had the capacity to understand and empathize with each other when no one else would. It would've been so easy for Bellamy and Clarke to fall into an endless cycle of blaming each other for their decisions. We see it in the other characters, in other TV shows--a constant battle where only one person's philosophy can prevail. But with Bellamy and Clarke, they have always shown empathy and accepted each other. It might not have been right, maybe they themselves would've done something different, but at the end of the day, Bellamy and Clarke try to understand and accept each other for who they are. Present tense. I think that kind of, frankly mature, love is something we don't see in media all too often.

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? hmmmm

I do enjoy memori, they make me happy. I also have a soft spot for Raven and Roan. Anything with Wells is gold bc I really want to see how he could've changed the show. Oh, and Minty. This wonderful idea will always be a favorite of mine.

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? I’ve been wanting to do more for a bit because I, personally, avoid social media activism. @bellarkefic-for-blm  is an amazing way to leverage whatever platform I have to incite awareness and action by using my strengths. I can do this really cool thing that I enjoy to help something critically important.

what’s your writing process like (esp for prompts, chopped!, etc)? it’s a hot diggity dog mess. I kind of do whatever I feel like. If I want to write a scene, I’ll write a scene. If I want to write dialogue, I’ll write dialogue. If I want to write an outline, I’ll write an outline. Chronological order is not guaranteed. Because writing tends to be an extremely emotionally exhaustive task for me, it’s easier for me to write more if I let go and follow whatever whims I have so that I don’t compromise my urge to write. My guarantee is that I try to milk the whim for whatever it’s worth. If I start an outline, I’ll finish it. I’ll have music in usually but I’ll pause it often to think about whatever it is I need to say.

what are some things you’d like to recommend? Some bellarke fics that’ll make you chuckle: So put your hands down my pants and I bet you’ll feel nuts by Chash You know you drive me up the wall by coffee_grounders The (Bullet Pointed) Life and Times of Bellamy Blake by crystalkei, dirtytrix

Other than that:

-       Albums: Ungodly Hour by Chloe x Halle, SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers -       Musicians: Matt Nathanson, Mat Kearney -       TV Shows: Nikita, Code Lyoko -       Books: Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor

You can find her on here on Tumblr @that-english-nerd, or on her AO3 here. Request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm.

[crazygirlsworldofbooks]

Review: It Ends With Us

“There is no such thing as bad people. We’re all just people who sometimes do bad things.”

Book: It Ends With Us

Author: Colleen Hoover

My Rating: ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ (5 Stars)

Read: October 8, 2020

Synopsis: Sometimes it is the one who loves you who hurts you the most. Lily hasn’t always had it easy, but that’s never stopped her from working hard for the life she wants. She’s come a long way from the small town in Maine where she grew up — she graduated from college, moved to Boston, and started her own business. So when she feels a spark with a gorgeous neurosurgeon named Ryle Kincaid, everything in Lily’s life suddenly seems almost too good to be true. Ryle is assertive, stubborn, maybe even a little arrogant. He’s also sensitive, brilliant, and has a total soft spot for Lily. And the way he looks in scrubs certainly doesn’t hurt. Lily can’t get him out of her head. But Ryle’s complete aversion to relationships is disturbing. Even as Lily finds herself becoming the exception to his “no dating” rule, she can’t help but wonder what made him that way in the first place. As questions about her new relationship overwhelm her, so do thoughts of Atlas Corrigan — her first love and a link to the past she left behind. He was her kindred spirit, her protector. When Atlas suddenly reappears, everything Lily has built with Ryle is threatened.

My Review:

It Ends With Us was another book I made a lot of assumptions about. I didn’t really know what to expect when I started reading it and all I knew was that it was from the romance genre and highly regarded on Goodreads. I wanted something light and so I picked it up. In the beginning that’s exactly what I thought this book was, nothing more than just a love triangle with sometimes cheesy dialogue. Well, I get a whole ton more than I bargained for! This books turned out to be so much more complicated, deep and trensending that I ever imagined possible from a romance novel and I absolutely inhaled it in a matter of days!

To begin with, the plot was interesting enough to me, especially because the romance genre is pretty new to me and I don’t really have much to compare it to but I thought it was cute- nothing more, nothing less. Then, once I got through a good chunk of the book it dawned on me that this book was so much more. There was an overwhelming message that this book so wonderfully delivered that it just pulled at my heartstrings and I ended up loving it! It successfully illustrates an issue that is very serious and occurs very often in today’s society and I got a much better understanding of it then I have ever gotten before. I love books that educate me and expand my mind. This is the first time that a book didn’t really reveal the complexity of its plot to me until a good way into it and I am here for it, very nice surprise!

Further on, the characters, although they seemed somewhat superficial in the beginning and a bit cheesy with their sometimes cheesy dialogue, grew on me as they revealed more about themselves and their backgrounds and went through all the experiences that they encountered in the book which definitely made them grow and change into better people. Growth is something that definitely makes for some really in-depth characterization and the characters really grew on me and in the end I felt as though I understood each of them, even the least likable ones. 

Next, the writing style was concise and to the point, just how I like it. There wasn’t anything too complicated but it flowed smoothly and made for an easy reading time. It perfectly got the amazing story across. 

All in all, I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys heavier romances and books with a very big meaning behind them. This isn’t some stupid romance story that, it’s so much more then that. I was pleasantly surprised that a book I was a bit disappointed in at the beginning, really made a comeback and won me over by the end. Give it a chance, you won’t regret it!

[seriouslyhooked]

The Same Soul (Part 6)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! So after a few months away from this fic, I am back and more ready than ever to tell this story. I love a fic that takes place in both the present and the past. It’s a really fun thing for me and I hope you all feel it adds some good context and dynamic to this AU overall. In this chapter we are back in the past, during the summer that Killian and Emma first met, and it’s been about a month since their first date. It’s a fluffy chapter to be sure, but there’s some moments that might have just a touch of angst. And that’s all I should say, don’t want to spoil too much. Anyway, hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

(Past)

Today is going to be a really good day.

It was the first coherent thought that crossed through Emma’s mind this morning as she woke with the sun, stretching her still sleepy limbs across the softness of her mattress. She was thrilled at the prospect of today, and grateful to have a totally free and clear Saturday. Because there was no camp on the weekends, Emma was left to her own devices, and, as with most other free days that she’d had here this summer, she was going to spend that time with someone she now couldn’t imagine not being in her life.

Even the thought of seeing Killian sent a rush of warmth through her, and Emma knew if she looked in a mirror right now her cheeks would be flushed a noticeable shade of pink. She never blushed before, schooling herself to keep all of her feelings as contained as possible,  but it was unavoidable with Killian. He just got to her in a way no one else ever had. He was charming, yes, and he was also crazy cute, so much so that he distracted her both when they were together and apart, but he was also thoughtful and attentive and patient in a way that let Emma know that he cared for her while also giving her breathing room to be whoever she wanted to be. Emma craved that specific blend of connection and freedom after years of being on her own, and she didn’t know how the hell he managed to understand her so well, but she’d started thinking of Killian as the ‘Emma whisperer’ in her secret musings these past few weeks.

For all her life, or at least as long as she could remember, Emma had been called closed off. The case workers assigned to monitor her and the people at the homes she stayed in said good things about her independence and self-reliance, but at the end of the day it was her guarded nature that people commented on most. That was purposeful, a defense against heartbreak that Emma learned long ago. If she kept people at a distance, and managed all of her expectations, she wouldn’t grow attached and wouldn’t feel disappointment. This made the way things were now so foreign to her. Emma had never woken up each day looking forward to the present. All her life she had been stuck, caught up in the flow of the small but unsteady existence she led. She had nowhere to belong and no one to belong to, and being so unmoored made it that much harder to invest in the good things in life. But this summer that was all beginning to change.

Part of it was this place, this corner of the world that was so serene and green and lively. It was so much quieter than the city she had always known, but no less alive. The woods out here were teeming with life, with birds and bugs and all sorts of creatures Emma felt like she’d never quite get used to seeing and she loved it. Every day was new, but it also felt routine. That was something Emma never really had, and so it calmed her, just as much as her nearly day trips to the coastline did. Watching the waves come in and out and hearing them lapping on the shore helped her center herself, and getting lost on the well trod paths out in the woods somehow made her feel more found than she ever had. She felt safe in this magical location, but so much of that sense safety also came from Killian.

It was hard to put into words why that was. There were so many little things, so many actions tied up in words and moments she would cherish forever, but it had been about month since she met him, and Emma swore each day her walls crumbled just a little bit more. There was so much between them now, and no one in the world knew her like Killian did. She had shared her thoughts, her dreams, and her hopes, and that was a huge thing for her because sometimes, in her darkest moments, she wondered if those wishes were worth having. Life had been hard, but this summer was a lesson in the goodness that could exist too, and when she thought of goodness Emma’s mind always started and stopped with Killian. She saw his smile, she heard his laugh, she felt the press of his lips on hers and the warmth of his hands on her body, and she replayed the quiet but bold affirmations he gave to her every day.

‘You steal my breath away, love.’

‘You make me hope, Emma. You make me feel that anything is possible.’

‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.’

Those were just a few of the unimaginable things he’d said to her over the past few weeks, and somehow she believed him every time. The ability she had to sniff out a lie had never been triggered with Killian. He was honorable and honest, earnest and sincere, and while that was amazing and miraculous, it was also still an incredibly scary thing for Emma to know and accept.

Because right now, as good as things were and as happy as she was, there was a risk. This could all go sideways at any moment. This summer was eventually going to end. She was going to leave this magical place, and this boy who she loved was going to leave too.

“Love?” Emma said the word aloud, rocked into a state of shock that she’d so freely used a word she never shared with another living soul. She had never loved anyone before, but there it was: she loved Killian.

But that was crazy! Loving him was crazy, and yet she did, and she didn’t want to fight it. It was hard to tell if she even could. Nothing had worked against him when it came to her defenses. One by one he brought them down just by being himself, and the feeling when he did made it all seem worth it. If today was the last day she ever had with Killian, it might just kill her, but she couldn’t seem to run preemptively. She had to see him, had to soak this all in as much as she could.

Still, as she got ready for the morning ahead, Emma knew that there was one thing that scared her most when it came to Killian and it was simple even in its abundant complexity: where as Killian had been completely forthcoming, telling her everything about his life, from his derelict Dad to the passing of his mother, she had held back. She had given him so much more than she ever had to anyone else, but the most important part of all, the part about her being abandoned and never finding anyone who wanted her all this time, that was still a secret. He didn’t know she was in foster care, he just knew she was on scholarship. He asked about her family a few times and she diverted, but that was weeks ago. He respected her not wanting to discuss it, but what would he say when he knew? Would he still look at her like she was some kind of perfect person? Or would he see that she was ordinary, or worse that she wasn’t worth loving after all?

The tolling of the clock on the mantel told her that she had no more time to dwell in these awful what-ifs, because Killian was supposed to be here now. Since he had never ever been late in all their time knowing each other, Emma knew he’d already be waiting for her at the gate, and when she grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her, she turned to find she was exactly right. But still, even if they’d shared weeks of similar moments, she was still struck breathless by the sight of him, and the world seemed to spin just a little more than usual as she made her way towards him.

“Emma,” he said in greeting, his eyes filled with both relief and appreciation as she meandered towards him.

No sooner was she through the gate than his hands were on her, pulling her close with a speed that made her gasp. He smiled at her, running one hand along her cheek as the other held her hip. Then he dipped his lips to hers, kissing her with in a slow and sensual way that made her want more, while still being appropriate enough for this not so private place.

“I missed you, love,” he said when he pulled back, the truth in his eyes shining just as bright as the cerulean flecks in his ocean blue gaze.

“You just saw me last night,” Emma quipped, though her heart was pounding in elated satisfaction.

“Aye, but it makes no difference. You know I hate to leave you. Nothing feels right again until we are together.”

“Well lucky for you we have all day,” Emma said and Killian agreed he was a lucky man before kissing her again. This time though, their stolen moment was interrupted by a low whine coming from below, and Emma laughed as she pulled back, crouching low to greet the other favorite companion she’d met this summer.

“I’m not the only one who missed you,” Killian said as Emma loved on Missy with her usual vigor. She loved this dog so much, almost as much as Killian seemed to, and hearing she was missed not just by Killian but by Missy as well made Emma feel so special.

“I missed you both too,” Emma whispered as she stood up, ducking her head so Killian wouldn’t see her eyes which were threatening to water in the face of all this affection. But he waited her out, taking her hand and running his thumb back and forth along her skin absentmindedly.

“It won’t always be like this, Emma.”

Hearing that made her stomach cramp up in actual pain. It hurt to realize that Killian saw the end of this too. When summer came she’d miss him even more, but when Killian tilted her face up to his she was confused. Because he didn’t look sad – he looked determined.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that someday soon there will come a day when we don’t need to be parted. Not for a single night.”

Emma didn’t even know how to respond to that. She wanted it, but she also knew how far away that day must be. Here he was saying it would be soon, but they were still so young. They couldn’t make decisions about their life like that until they were of age, and though Killian was older, he had a few months left before he hit eighteen. But even with all that, the look in his eyes gave Emma no choice but to hope. He had that expression again, the one that said he’d stop at nothing to see a good thing come to pass, and everything she knew about Killian told Emma that where he had a will he would always make a way. Instead of responding to him directly, she pressed another swift kiss to his lips and smiled, watching as the action calmed him down and melted away some of the harshness of before.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, after pulling back and taking his hand once more.

“Nice try, love, but you know it’s not that simple,” Killian teased. His propensity for surprising her had only continued as the summer went on and Emma groaned, though it was mostly for show.

“You’re lucky I always bring everything just in case.”

Emma stopped short after her unanticipated confession, hoping that Killian wouldn’t realize how true that was. She essentially had everything that mattered to her in this bag right now. That’s how few belongings she really cared about. There were clothes and such at her living quarters, but the few items she truly valued went with her wherever she went just in case. She’d never had to run before, but she was always prepared, even now.

“You all right, Emma?” Killian asked and Emma nodded, regrouping and doing her best to immerse herself back in the day with Killian.

He made it as easy as possible to do so, bringing her to one of her favorite places in the area – the beach. Once there they walked along the coast, passing dozens of other people, some with their families, and some with friends, until finally they were at her favorite spot – a sandy patch nestled between rock-lined coves that Killian had brought her to a few weeks ago.

“I still can’t believe no one knows about this place,” Emma said, shaking her head in awe as she helped Killian spread out the blanket he’d brought for the two of them to use.

When that was done, she reached for her shirt, stripping it away and shedding her shorts leaving her in only her bathing suit, and she didn’t think much of it. She was so comfortable with Killian at this point and they’d done this a number of times. She didn’t think of it as anything more than an innocent act, but when she looked back over at him, surprised at his silence, she realized how much she effected him. The look in his eyes was a cross between ravenous and bewitched and it made her feel immensely powerful. She could have chosen to wilt under his appraisal or feel embarrassed, but how could she when he was so obvious? He was clearly very pleased with what he saw, and that was only fair seeing as how in a few short moments, he’d lose his shirt and she’d feel the same way.

“Cat got your tongue, Jones?” Emma teased and she heard a low rumbling sound that she might have mistaken for Missy if it wasn’t heard a time or two before. No, that was all Killian, losing his head again and letting some sort of primal side take over. It thrilled her to know how much he wanted her, and this back and forth was intoxicating to her. It turned out Emma liked a bit of a chase, and with that in mind she smiled widely at him before sprinting at the water, knowing he was half a second from pulling her close.

Hearing his curses and the sound of him trying to get rid of his own clothes was hard over her laughter, but Emma was now attuned to these moments that she’d play back later like her favorite song. She made it to the water’s edge, delighting in the cold ocean as it counteracted the heat of the sun and her exertion, but then she was caught, with Killian’s arms wrapping around her as he carried her further into the water. She screamed, but in a playful way, and then they were submerged together underneath the ocean swell, bobbing underneath the waves until they came back up again and she splashed him in foe offense.

“Killian!”

“What? We needed to cool off, love. If we didn’t we’d run the very real risk of being charged with public indecency.”

“Is that right?” Emma asked as Killian caught her again in the water. Being like this she let her legs wrap around him as he held her. She wouldn’t go so far in real life, but here it just felt right. It was a tease of what could be, and as she felt his hard body underneath her she squirmed a bit, making him groan again.

“Have I ever told you how tempting you are, Swan?”

“Only like every day,” she replied, biting her lip to keep back a smirk and getting exactly what she wanted in return – another heated kiss. And damn was it hot, even with the water around them, Emma was burning up, taking it just to the edge with Killian and wishing so badly that they could go even further. So far they hadn’t, choosing to be much slower in their physical intimacy while they truly got to know one another, but Emma was finding more and more each day how impatient she was. She didn’t like the waiting, and if Killian weren’t so steadfast in taking things slow… well, she didn’t really know where they’d be right now.

“God, you undo me,” he said resting his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in harsh pants that mirrored hers. She sighed at his words, closing her eyes and taking it all in. She wanted to keep this moment forever, just like all the others, and she was almost afraid to open her eyes again, thinking maybe this was all just some crazy beautiful dream.

Yet as the day went on, there was more and more proof that this wasn’t a dream. This was really her life, and Emma was happier than she’d ever been before. Their time on the beach evolved into a picnic in the cove, and then a long walk with Missy through town. They got ice cream, they watched the ships come in and out of port, and they talked with each other about anything and everything. As the sun set, they enjoyed the natural beauty, watching the sky change and the fading light bid goodbye to a nearly perfect day. It made Emma worry that they’d soon be saying goodbye to each other as well, but Killian had other plans. Down for anything herself, Emma followed him back through town not so far from where she was staying. Before they got there, though, Killian stopped at a giant estate Emma had seen before and recognized as his Uncle’s. She felt her heart catch – she’d never been to his Uncle’s place before. Was this some sort of meeting she didn’t know about? She wasn’t dressed for this, or ready, but before she could truly panic Killian kissed her hand in a knowing and gentle manner.

“Don’t worry, love. We’re not going inside tonight. My plans are of a more outdoor nature.”

Emma expelled a breath, glad for that fact but then her mind wandered to how gorgeous this place was. As spectacular as the main estate was of her benefactress, this house was just as palatial but in a different way. It was less manicured and groomed. The flowers here were less cultivated and more organic, honoring the true beauty of the world around them. Emma still couldn’t fathom why anyone needed a house so large, but as they went behind the house, Emma’s breath caught again.

“Oh my god,” she said, the words carrying on the wind as she took in the sight before her. For there was a path lit up in the night by tasteful, gilded lanterns leading deep into the woods.

“I wish I could take the credit for these, but my it’s all my Uncle’s doing.”

“He must be a real romantic,” Emma said, and Killian looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps. If he is, he’s sadly unmatched now.”

“He could still find someone,” Emma said, suddenly hoping for happiness for a man she’d never even met.

“I hope he will,” Killian said. “But trust me, Swan, this isn’t what I brought you here to see.”

Emma couldn’t imagine what could be better than this, and the whole way out into the woods she found herself wondering where they could be going. The golden glow around them as the twilight darkened towards full blown night was so surreal and almost otherworldly. She could hardly fathom where it would lead, until they came to a large clearing. She waited for something, not really understanding what the end game was here and just when she was about to ask why they had come here she spotted the first blip at the corner of her eye.

“Fireflies,” she whispered, not realizing if she spoke aloud the thought that crossed her mind.

For nearly seventeen years Emma wondered what fireflies really looked like. Would they embody the magic that stories and movies seemed to make of them? It was somewhat suspect to her, until now, when she could feel the anticipation and the instant satisfaction of seeing one and then another and then another. This clearing, for whatever reason, was filled with them and it seemed Killian had timed this exactly right for them to take in the show.

“Now some might say that this is the best seat in the house. They don’t seem to go very far into the trees, so you can see them all just fine right here.” Killian murmured the words as if speaking too loudly might scare away these new little beings.

“But what if…” Emma trailed off, not wanting to ask for more when he’d already given her so much. Yet again Killian’s thoughtfulness was gifting her with an impossibly wonderful experience, and to make a suggestion right now just felt ungrateful.

“What if we wanted to be in the thick of it?” Killian asked, reading her mind and Emma nodded quickly prompting a smile from Killian. “Well, I came prepared for that.”

Emma tore her attention between the continuing lights around them and Killian rummaging through his backpack, but when he produced two flashlights covered in blue tissue paper she was surprised. “It’s an old trick my brother learned when we were kids. Fireflies are drawn to the color blue. It attracts them, like moths to a flame.”

“I can relate,” Emma said, thinking of Killian’s eyes but covering her mouth in horror as she realized she said that aloud. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Not likely, Swan,” Killian replied, pulling her closer and kissing her sweetly before handing her her flashlight. “Now come on, we’ve only got a little while with them. Let’s make the most of it.”

Emma was glad for his request because he ended up being oh so right. The lightening bugs were breathtaking and astounding, spiraling through the meadow in entrancing little swirls, some of them even landing on her and Killian. He was right about the lights. They seemed to love it, and Emma adored the sensation of being surrounded by them all. Everywhere she looked there were golden blips, sparkles in the night that pulsed in perfect harmony with the rest of this wooded grove. She instantly knew that stories couldn’t do this justice. One had to experience this, they had to feel the summer heat turning to a nighttime cool, smell that woodsy smell of fresh earth and green leaves, and hear the gentle buzzing of these tiny beetles in flight. Only though first hand experience could someone understand the real beauty behind this and appreciate what a strange and amazing occurrence this was in nature. It made Emma believe in something else, something divine, because such a perfect moment couldn’t be an accident. It had to be fate.

They stayed out there, for how long Emma couldn’t be sure, but in that time she let her guard down completely, even more than she usually would. Killian always made her feel older, like a woman or an adult, but right now this was a space where they could be a bit more childlike. She never had this as a little kid and she loved it, and Killian seemed to love her love. They laughed together, running around at different moments, taking in the ebb and flow of these little lightening bugs with the help of their flashlights. Sometimes they landed on her, lighting up her sun-tanned skin in this almost ethereal way, other times they lit up Killian, illuminating his expression which was already so bright and happy, making Emma’s palpable joy climb even higher. But eventually, their private little light show ended. Perfect moments had to come to a close, and one by one the bugs flew off, leaving Emma and Killian out there alone under the pale moonlight, lying out under the ever brightening stars.

“God that was… I don’t even have words.”

“So you liked it then?” Killian asked, as if it wasn’t a given that this was one of the single best moments of her life.

“I’ve never been so happy,” she confessed, looking over to Killian and wondering if it was okay to say that. Did she seem weird or desperate? It only took one moment to know he didn’t see her that way.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Emma. Something I’ve been wanting to say for a long time.” She could hear her heart beating in her chest, pounding in anticipation until he said three words she wanted to hear more than any other. “I love you.”

Emma let those three little words wash over her, seeping into her very being like water to a rose. The elation at knowing that this incredible human being could feel for her what she felt for him was sensational. In the magic of the moonlight, lit up as she was from such a perfect day, Emma finally knew what it was to belong and to feel at home. Killian had made all of these beautiful moments possible in her life. He made ordinary things feel extraordinary and exceptional. He looked out for her, applauded her, cheered her on ,and believed in her. He made time for her and he listened to her, reassuring her at every impasse that she was smart and fun and worth being around.  He showed her every single day since the first day they met that she was important to him, and right now, when he told her he loved her she knew that he meant it. In a bond forged in honesty and truthfulness, this was somehow the truest thing he’d ever said to her, and it brought happy tears to her eyes. She wanted this so much – wanted him more than anything else in the world – but he didn’t really know her, and realizing that she now had to come clean broke her heart.

“I know you think that, but you wouldn’t say that if you knew everything,” Emma said, sitting up and hiding her face as her knees automatically came in, curling her up into a fearful stance. But before she could retreat too far into herself, she felt his hand on her, a gentle reminder of his devotion.

“Emma, I promise you there is nothing to know that would change how I feel. I love you. Don’t ever doubt that. Whatever you think there is still left to tell me, I swear on everything it won’t change my love.”

“But it will!” She cried out, her tears no streaming as her throat closed from the pain of it all. “You don’t get it. You can’t love me because no one ever has. I have no parents, no family. They gave me up. They didn’t want me.”

“Emma,” Killian whispered, but she couldn’t let him reassure her. She appreciated that his hands stayed on her but she had to get this out.

“I don’t know what happened to them. I was found as a newborn and no one could figure out where I came from so I went into the system and I never left. When I was little I liked to think that they still wanted me. Maybe they’d come back. Maybe they were sorry for leaving me. But whatever kept them from keeping me it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same. I went into the system and no one ever wanted me. I was never good enough. I never fit. I don’t belong.”

“That’s not true, Emma. You do belong. You belong right here with me.”

“How do you know that? How are you sure?”

“Because there’s nothing in my life that means as much as you. No one who makes me feel so much, who makes me want again. You are this rare and impossible treasure, like an angel from a dream and yet you’re real. And it doesn’t matter to me where you come from, it only matters because it made you Emma, the girl I love, the only one I ever will.”

“I love you too,” Emma confessed, “But I’m scared. I’ve never loved anyone. I don’t know how – I -,”

Her worries were pushed aside as Killian brought her close, kissing her apprehension away and trying to show her the intensity of his feelings. His faith in this was so strong and so reassuring, it was impossible to deny him. His love was still so strong even though he knew. She had told him her last terrible secret – she’d shared just how lost and lonely she really was – and here he stayed, claiming her, wanting her, loving her.

“I thought I was broken, Emma,” he said as they came apart, but just barely, clinging to each other with all this heavy emotion swirling around. “When my Mum died I thought I was mostly gone with her.  I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again, I felt like nothing mattered anymore, and then I met you and I realized that even in darkness there is light. You saved me, Emma. You made me whole, putting back pieces I never had, even when she was here. And you did it with your smile and your wit. You did it with the look you get when you know you’re right, and the way you always want to help anybody in any way that you can. I hadn’t even known you a day and I knew I’d never be the same, and that I want you forever. I didn’t get a chance to say it before, but I feel as you do. Today was the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s all because of you. Because you love me, and because, even if you’re afraid, I know that love isn’t going anywhere.”

“I might mess this up,” Emma admitted, knowing that anything was possible with something so new and foreign to her.

“You couldn’t even if you tried, love. Something this right is fated to happen. You can’t run away from destiny. You can’t muck it up. It follows you, and you, Emma Swan, are my destiny.”

How could she compete with words like that when they spoke to exactly how she felt? Emma didn’t know, so she followed her instincts, pulling him close and spending the rest of the few precious hours they had left before her curfew reveling in this new state they were in. Love had been here for some time, but to have it shared like this, spoken aloud and agreed to so clearly was indescribable. She still was afraid, she still was unsure, but that wasn’t going to hold her back. Whatever she didn’t know she would learn, and whatever obstacles may come, she knew Killian would be there for her every step of the way. She just had to keep fighting and keep choosing this new life, two things she planned to do as long as she had her soul mate by her side.

Post-Note: Hey all, so I know that I have done the firefly thing before, but for me personally it’s one of the highlights of every summer. I genuinely love seeing the fireflies. I loved catching them as a kid, I love watching them with my family, and I think sharing that magic with someone you love is just about the sweetest thing you can do. I wanted Killian to share that with Emma, and I think that having written so many stories, it’s okay if there’s some overlap. I mean as the self-dubbed queen of fluff, I have recycled a trope or two before already… Anyway, next chapter is going to also be partially in the past and as you might have guessed it will be from Killian’s POV. That being said, it’s a very heavy chapter but I will not leave you guys in pain or suspense. There’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story in a precarious place, especially emotionally, trust that I will make it right even if I break our hearts just a little bit in the process. As always, I thank you all so much for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed, and I would love to hear what you think!

[ann-stay]

Brown soft light, fighting the dark shadows-Seungmin

Warnings/au: sadness, angst (?), soft, idk I wrote this ages ago but enjoy!

Please Note: this used to be a W**j*n story however due to recent events I no longer support him, if I’ve missed a part in here where I’ve used his name and didn’t change it please let me know.

She pushed herself away from the desk and slide in the chair to the other side of the room. Groaning, she stood and exited the plain room. She headed to the kitchen for something good, something that could ease her frustration.

It had been like this for a few days, her continuously having to leave her laptop out of anger and frustration. She just couldn't write. She wasn't burnt out, no, she'd already recovered from that. She had major writer's block. Every idea that came to her head didn't flow nicely, nor could she put it into words on the screen.

All knowledge of writing had left her the past few days and it annoyed her to the point where she could break down. She was an online author, so updates were vital to her work. Without updates, she couldn't get views, without views, she didn't get paid. She questioned why she chose such a difficult path.

Swinging the fridge open she grabbed the chocolate and slammed the door shut. She hopped onto the kitchen bench and let her legs hang. It was her favourite thing to do, sit there and think. The bench was surprisingly comfortable and bought a warm homey feeling. She'd done this since she was little.

Taking a bite from the chocolate she looked about her apartment. It was a medium-sized apartment that she lived alone in. Although, her boyfriend would sleep over most nights when he was free. Which he wasn't often, but he made the time.

As far as a normal human could see, her life was good. Dream job, good boyfriend, nice apartment. It was perfect. But it wasn't. She struggled much more then anyone would be able to see. She had struggled with her own mind since she was a young girl. It got to the point, she could hide it from everyone-including the people that were closest to her.

Heck-she'd even isolate herself for a bit and people still wouldn't notice. All except one. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, as she would think) she had gotten better hiding it from said person.

It was scary for her to hide it though. The one person willing to help and that notices everything-she shuts out his help. Every moment she does she knows it hurts him. She hates that. She hates hurting him. So, she continues. Continues to cut him out more and more, hoping that he'll leave and find a better person.

But she doesn't want him to leave. She wants to curl up in his arms and stay there forever. She wants that warmth, love, and support. She wants to feel happy and content.

However, every waking happy moment she has it always turns bad. A light shower of rain, enough to even see a rainbow, suddenly turning into a raging storm that could tear lives apart. But she loves the rain.

The sound of it hitting the glass window. The cold calm feeling it brings with it. The way she would have to wear a sweater every time it rains so she can be comfy and warm. Drinking hot chocolate and watching the droplets fall.

"I don't deserve it..." she mumbled.

The chocolate fell from her hand onto the bench space beside her. A few tears pricking at her eyes as every dark thought seeped their way into her mind. Lacing her brain with its toxins. The plague of the mind. Except this plague is deadlier. Killing someone with a voice in their head. Killing them slowly as they still live. Yet they don't live. They are alive, but they aren't living. As if death himself inhabited them.

A sob escapes her mouth, getting off the bench, making sure she doesn't fall. Her back sliding down the cupboard doors. She pulls her knees as close to her chest as she can, her chubby body making it hard to hug them comfortably.

More sobs leave her trembling lips. Furiously wiping the bucket loads of tears. The lump in her throat making the crying just the more painful. Though she manages to shut them up, the tears were the only thing to show for her breakdown.

The lump in her throat grows, an empty yet full stomach of emotion. Pain. That's all she feels. She didn't know what pain it was. It was like the world had come crashing down even if it hadn't. A feeling that you'd get when you were having fun and then all that happiness was sucked out of you. Exhaustion. Yet it was way more complex and stronger than those feelings. It was a feeling you'd have to experience to understand but a feeling no one should ever experience or understand.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted it to end.

...

Keys rattled.

...

A door clicked, unlocking.

The girl stood quickly and rushed to the bathroom. Forcing her tears away. Rubbing at her face rapidly. Wash, towel, wash towel-repeat a million times. She looked at herself in the mirror.

"Hey, babe?" Her boyfriend called out.

"In the bathroom! I'll be out in a second!" She shouted back.

She smiled a few times, trying to get her face into a 'normal' position rather than one that looks exhausted and broken. The door opened and she stepped out.

"Where are you?" She asked.

"Just in the kitchen," he replied.

She followed his voice and found him taking a bite of her chocolate that was left on the bench. She smiled. He was too cute.

"Come here~ I missed you so much," he whined.

The girl laughed at him before walking over and getting engulfed in a warm hug.

"I missed you too Bubba~"

The boy chuckled at her, lifting her up onto the bench. He stood between her legs and held her at her waist. Her arms rested around his neck, playing with the back of his hair absentmindedly. Their eyes locked and the once happy smile on his face was replaced by a frown and furrowed brows.

"What's wro-"

"You've been crying."

"No, I haven't."

He looked at her, raising his brow.

"You think I don't notice these things?" he asked.

"Notice what things?" She asked, trying to act innocent.

"Things such as your face being slightly red in parts. When you cry your lips get red in patches. Your nose and cheeks also have red patches. Your eyes are slightly glossed over because you can never get the tears all out. Heck, your eyes don't match your smile...babe, what's wrong?"

She lost it. The tears instantly fell, the same world crashing feeling returned. Her head hit his shoulder/neck area and she sobbed, arms wrapping around him tighter. He was taken back for a split second, quickly recovering and pulling her closer.

He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, rubbing her back to comfort her. Her pain, so strong, it filled the apartment to the point her boyfriend could feel it. Like a dark shadow flowing off her body and covering everything. The homey feeling disappearing, replaced with emptiness.

He hated it. Not what his girlfriend had caused but what she was going through. He knew she was pushing him away. He knew that she knew it hurt him. But he also knew that all she needed was some space. He wasn't new to this.

Her isolating herself. In fact, it was good for her to a certain point. The isolation was her recharge. But at some point, in the recharge she always hits, so to say, a malfunction. A percentage where she was so close to being good yet so far.

In this time, he knew to be there for her. To hug her and support her. Not to ask what's wrong but to be there for her. If she needs to talk about it, she will-after asking if it's okay to talk with him a million times.

The sobbing quietened. Soon it stopped. His shirt drenched, but he could care less. A weight lifted from his shoulder. His eyes met her tired and broken ones. They said something, an apology. An apology from breaking down, for being weak, for possibly ruining his shirt, for the toxicity, ruining their night and so much more.

But in his eyes, they held forgiveness and care. He forgave her for everything she apologised for, whether she should've apologised for it or not. He cared about her more then she knew.

She did know though. She just couldn't understand or accept it fully.

They rested their foreheads together, soft breathes tickling each other's faces.

"The voices returned..." she mumbled, eyes closed.

He studied her now calm features, the way her soft lips moved.

"What were they saying this time?"

"Everything."

She opened her glossy eyes and stared into his. No one said anything. They just stared at each other, holding one another close together.

And soon enough, the warmth returned. Her boyfriend's warmth started radiating onto her and their apartment. A soft brown light battling the dark shadow. A sad smile appeared on the girl's face. Then a happy one on her boyfriends.

"You know, your eyes are really cute. And the small scar on your lips is adorable~" He cooed.

A blush etched its way on her cheeks.

"Oh, shush it."

They both laughed.

"Do you want to know something?" She asked.

"Hm?" he hummed in response.

"You, Mr. Kim Seungmin, are the best boyfriend in the world. My Bubba."

She scrunched her face up and squished his cheeks between her hands. Seungmin laughed widely, finding it cute how her face and nose scrunched.

"And you, Ms. Kim, are the best girlfriend in the world. My adorable koala bear."

He returned the favour and squished her cheeks. The girl flushed red and groaned, pushing his hands away.

"Yah! I'm not Ms. Kim...yet. And I'm not a Koala! What are you doing home anyway? I thought you had a meeting?" She asked.

"Soon you'll be, and I can call you a Koala because you sleep a lot and are from Australia. But anyway, Chan canceled it because half of the boys are sick," Seungmin explained.

He placed his hands back onto her waist but holding her closer still. His girlfriends face turned from happy flushed to concerned.

"Why didn't you text me?! We need to go over there so I can help take care of them! I can't believe you left Chan and the others by themselves-" She jumped off the bench and move around frantically looking for her shoes- "They can barely take care of themselves when they aren't sick! Hurry-"

Seungmin hugged her from behind, stopping her from moving.

"No."

"What do you mean 'no' mister. Your friends are sick and I'm worried!"

"I said no. We are staying here together. If Chan needs help, he'll text me-or you. He always messages you first in an emergency remember?"

The girl groaned and nodded.

"Fine..."

"Yay! Now let's cuddle!"

He picked her up, causing her to squeak, and carried her to their bed. He sat on the bed and moved under the cover, still holding his girlfriend.

"Hey! You can't just-"

Seungmin placed a soft, loving kiss on her lips. She smiled and melted into the kiss. When they pulled apart Seungmin had a smirk on his lips.

"Meanie, you can't just shut me up by kissi-"

He kisses her once again. But this time when they pull back, she rolls her eyes at him and turns to face her back against his chest. She cuddles closer to him, pulling his arms around her more, loving the feeling of the warmth.

He laughed at her, nuzzling his face into her shoulder/neck area. Causing giggles to erupt from her at the tickling feeling. Happiness and warmth filled them both.

The storm that was raging moments ago now calm and showing rainbows. The toxic thoughts and feelings now flew far away, unable to hurt either one of them.

There they cuddled, in the middle of the bed wrapped in blankets. Nothing playing. No music, no talking, no sound. Just their breathing and the small kisses here and there. The room was dim as the light faded and the street outside lit it up. It had started to rain, the droplets hitting the window, creating that amazing sound.

Seungmins arms were wrapped tightly around his girlfriend. Loving her squishy, slightly chubby and small figure. The girl rested her head on his chest, her hands resting on top of his. Focus wandering. She soon drifted into a peaceful, content and happy sleep.

Her boyfriend watched her. He noticed the small things. Like the way she blinks with her eyes closed, an indication she was having a dream. The way she would make some expressions like the ones in her dreams. Or how her jaw had to be clenched shut, a habit she made as a kid out of fear of chomping on her tongue by accident.

He noticed how her cheeks flushed red when her body temperature was too high or when it was way too cold. And he even noticed how, when she has a deep sleep her lips get plumper.

He loved her with his whole heart and soul. He noticed all the details and little things. He loved how happy she'd look and feel when he pointed them out as well. It showed her that he cared a lot about her.

He smiled happily, lifting one of his hands up to play with some of her curls that had fallen free from her bun. He chuckled, watching it bounce back into place. He removed her hair tie carefully. Massaging her scalp and playing with her hair.

Soon enough, Seungmin found himself falling into a deep sleep as well.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Light Novel Review - Last and First Idol

Warning: This work contains graphic descriptions of violence that are discussed in the review.

Before I began reading Last and First Idol, I had absolutely no idea what it was about or what sort of a story I would find within. I knew it had to be in some way yuri because J-Novel club sent it to me to review saying as much, but beyond that, I had no idea. I can definitively say that going into Last and First Idol blind was absolutely the wrong idea. While searching for cute and fun yuri stories, I naively wandered into graphic accounts of cannibalism, grotesque creatures, and a reckless abandon for human life. It seems almost impossible that the astonishing creations within the light novel all began with a Love Live fanfiction story. However, as jarring as my experience was, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the work. Last and First Idol is a collection of three hard science fiction yuri short stories by Gengen Kusano.

There are a few common elements present throughout each story. As previously stated, they are hard science fiction work, with particular attention and details placed in scientific logic and accuracy. Each story intersects the lofty science concepts presented with an aspect of anime/otaku culture, idols, gacha mobiles games, and seiyuu (in that order). Finally, each of the short stories features a protagonist that physically evolves and becomes stronger by killing and consuming, though not necessarily eating their own kind.

The title story, Last and First Idol, begins innocently enough, with Mika Furutsuki dreaming of becoming an idol. She practices regularly, joins an idol group in high school, and hires her dearest friend Maori Niizono as a producer. However, things take a dark turn when, during a downturn in her idol career, Mika kills herself. The Earth is struck with massive solar flares, rendering it almost uninhabitable and riddling the survivors with cancers. Niizono brutally murders scores of survivors to harvests their body parts and transforms her body into a powerful being. She then resurrects Mika, turning the idol into a horrific monster. The rest of the story follows Mika as she continually evolves and changes by assimilating her victims’ organs and bodies into her own to become the ultimate idol.

More than any other, this story is graphic and depraved. Several passages made me feel nauseated as Kusano holds little back in his descriptions of the atrocities Mika and Niizono commit. However, while undoubtedly disturbing, science and transformations Mika undergoes are fascinating and wonderfully described in detail. Kusano’s attention to detail benefits the work here, as readers will be engrossed in discovering how Mika adapts to overcome her next challenge.

The second story, Evolution Girls follows Youko Sasajima. She is a young woman addicted to the gacha mobile game, “Evo Gals.” Youko’s addiction quickly leads to her death. However, she awakens, reincarnated as a single-celled organism. In the world she finds herself in, “girls” pull gacha to acquire organelles and level up. Soon she evolves beyond microscopic life into prehistoric aquatic creatures and onwards, all by drawing gachas. To pull these gachas, Mika needs “points,” which she obtains by eating other girls. It is a fascinating and spectacular reimagining of life’s evolution, all from the perspective of a young woman.

Youko teams up some a few other girls to help create a feared hunter pack, however, they are never the apex. There is a constant sense of fear and apprehension as the reader is aware that the girls risk encountering a creature stronger than them and getting slaughtered at any moment. Youko grows incredibly attached to one of the women, Vayu, and vows to protect her. Her love for the girl acts as her driving motivation throughout the latter half of the story.

One of the most exciting aspects of Evolution Girls is its ending, which catapults the stories scope and scientific fantasy. There are discussions of parallel dimensions, the nature of souls, and a dastardly plot older than the universe. Many aspects of this ending echo Puella Magi Madoka Magica, a connection I was happy to discover Kusano himself acknowledged. There is a rewriting of the universe and its fundamental laws, a character living through multiple timelines, and it is all because of the way energy function in this universe. It is wonderfully vast and imaginative, but frustratingly convoluted; I had to read the final few pages of the story a half dozen times to comprehend it.

The final story in the light novel is Dark Seiyuu. In a futuristic society, seiyuu is no longer a term used to describe voice actors but a different race of humans. These seiyuu have laryngeal sacs, an organ which allows them to control aether, a medium of light and sound. By manipulating aether, the seiyuu can fire lasters, create sounds, manipulate gravity, and fly spaceships.

The story follows Akane, a seiyuu who, to grow her power, murders other seiyuu and transplants their laryngeal sacs onto herself. Since birth, she has heard strange whispers, a mysterious voice. One day while out on a date with her partner Sachii, Akane is attacked by the Dark Seiyuu, who encourages Akane to listen to the voices. Soon Akane and Sachii engage in desperate pursuit, chasing the Dark Seiyuu across the galaxy, hijacking ships, battling bounty hunters, and escaping the law on the way.

Dark Seiyuu is easily my favorite story in the light novel. Some scenes and descriptions in the story are breathtaking, like a beautiful and terrifying sequence when the Earth loses all gravity. It also features a clear goal which the characters are driving towards at all time. Unfortunately, the ending is more than a little disappointing. Just as the plot ends, the story opens up to what seems like a greater adventure. This conclusion feels like an epic introduction to a much longer work. However, it ends just as the call to action is answered. Dark Seiyuu is begging for a sequel that will likely never be.

While Dark Seiyuu carefully balance its plot and science Evolution Girls and Last and First Idol are far less successful. There are multiple sections in these stories where long descriptions of the mechanics and functions of various scientific processes feel out of place and ruin the stories’ otherwise fantastic pacing. Thankfully, these descriptions are incredibly well written and researched, but you will enjoy the story far more for science than the plot. However, the greatest failure of the stories is in addressing the complex philosophical questions they touch upon, such as survival and cannibalism. It is such a missed opportunity, especially because it is clear from that Kusano is capable of incorporating philosophy wonderfully.

The sacrifices to story in the name of science are nothing when compared to the characters. Most of them are cruel, taking glee in their murderous escapades. Furthermore, they have very little development. If you asked me to describe the personality of any characters in Last and First Idol, I would not be able to. The one exception is Youko from Evolution Girls. Her motivation is far more believable and understandable than Mika’s wish to become the ultimate idol in Last and First Idol and helps sell her occasionally questionable actions effectively. Youko is easily the most likable character in any of the stories. While she does kill, it is necessary for survival, and she does not take the same glee in it that characters in other stories do.

Each of the stories in Last and First Idol contains yuri elements (obviously, otherwise I would have no business reviewing it). In the titular story, these elements are present in Niizono’s dedication to Mika, but outside of the implication, no bond between the two is ever clearly stated. In Evolution Girls, the yuri elements are more explicit, with Youko being in love with Vayu. Additionally, two of the side characters being implied to be interested in each other. Finally, there is Dark Seiyuu, which features two women in a relationship. Regrettably, their relationship, at least on Akane’s side, is more for publicity than any actual romantic or physical attraction. However, there are moments when Akane displays genuine affection and care for Sachii, but these moments are inconsistent. On one page, Akane can be comforting her and on the next annoyed by the girl.

Last and First Idol is a haunting and brilliant work of science fiction. It masterfully integrates otaku culture with high and hard sci-fi concepts, and its fast-paced stories will keep readers on the edge of their seats. However, its storylines and characters suffer at the expense of the stories’ scientific aspects. Still, if you are looking for an extensive and profound science fiction work that pulls no punches, be sure to give Last and First Idol a read.

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 2 Art – N/A LGBTQ – 4 Lewd – 0 Final – 7

You can purchase ‘Last and First Idol’ digitally now: https://amzn.to/2MPc4oB

Review copy provided by J-Novel Club

[ladyherenya]

Books read in June

I didn’t read everything I had planned. I was distracted reading other things and now I have to decide which library books I will return unread.

Part of me is stubbornly convinced I should retain my eleven-year-old self’s ability to borrow armfuls of books and read all of them at least once before the return date. Which is ridiculous. Back then I had fewer responsibilities and read shorter books. And having too many books to read is a better problem to have than running out of books.

Favourite cover(s): Thorn, Battle Born and White Eagles.

Reread: All Systems Red by Martha Wells.

Still reading: Descendent of the Crane by Joan He and Riviera Gold by Laurie R. King.

Next up: Aurora Burning by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff, and The Enigma Game by Elizabeth Wein.

One day I’ll get back to posting other things on Tumblr but for now, it’s just book reviews.

(Longer reviews and ratings on LibraryThing and Dreamwidth.)

*

Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett (narrated by Stephen Briggs): The wizards of Unseen University play football. This is humorous, clever, sharply observant about people -- very much what I’ve come to expect from Pratchett. I enjoyed it a lot. 

Girl Gone Viral by Alisha Rai: Katrina is horrified when a conversation she has with a man in a café is overheard, twisted into a romance, documented on Twitter -- and goes viral. Her bodyguard offers his family’s farm as a safe retreat. I enjoyed reading this and liked how it’s romance about a woman dealing with panic attacks, but by the final act, its priorities had diverged somewhat from mine. It wanted to get to its happily-ever ending, whereas I thought it had raised interesting issues worthy of further exploration and slower, more complex solutions. I wanted a happy ending, too, but wanted more story first.

Blame It On Paris by Laura Florand: I’ve read a few of Florand’s romances and even though the descriptions of Paris and chocolate shops were lovely and vivid, as stories they were not really my thing. But I loved her memoir, which is very funny. During her year in Paris, Laura isn’t looking to give up her independence, travelling or career plans for romance. But then her friends talk her into asking out the French waiter she admires. Getting to know Sebastien allows Laura to see France from a different perspective, and challenges her assumptions about serious relationships, her (American) culture and her own family.

Stepping From the Shadows by Patricia A. McKillip: A story about growing from childhood into adulthood. Published in 1982 as McKillip’s “first book for adults”, I can see why this is now out-of-print. It is strange, even by McKillip’s standards for strangeness. In merging the mundane with the magical, the mythical, it attempts something rather interesting and thoughtful, but it isn’t quite successful. However, the descriptions of places are wonderfully vivid, the narrator’s emotions are conveyed with intensity, and there were moments that felt like catching a fleeting glimpse of myself of a mirror. I didn’t always like it, but I’m glad I got to read it all the same.

True to Your Service by Sandra Antonelli: Kitt is sent on a mission to the Netherlands and his boss insists that Mae accompany him. This spy-thriller is, like At Your Service and Forever in Your Service, a bit too violent for me. However, I liked that Mae and Kitt talk about their reactions to distressing events with each other. In fact, the two of them are constantly discussing their thoughts and feelings about what’s happening, including the way Kitt’s job collides with their personal relationship. I really like the way their relationship is an on-going conversation.

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer:

Cress (narrated by Rebecca Soler): Following on from Cinder and Scarlet. Cress, born without the Lunar gift for manipulation, has spent years living alone in a satellite orbiting Earth, using her tech skills under the orders of the Lunar thaumaturge Sybil and dreaming of escape. I really enjoyed this. I like how it wove in elements from “Rapunzel”, and dealt with Cress’s perception of herself as a damsel in distress, a girl in need of rescuing.  There is an increasing focus on teamwork and friendship -- this means we see the characters from different perspectives, and we also see different sides to them. 

Winter (narrated by Rebecca Soler): Princess Winter, step-daughter of Queen Levana, is determined that she will never use her Lunar gift to manipulate others -- even though refraining makes her a bit crazy. Meanwhile Cinder and her friends plot to overthrow the queen. This is tense and entertaining, and the narrator does a wonderful job of bringing all the characters to life. I love that the gang are so accepting of each other’s weird quirks and that the romances are given time to develop. I love their teamwork, banter and perseverance. The focus is on the characters’ relationships and the action, and both are excellent.

Thorn by Intisar Khanani: Fifteen year old Princess Alyrra is sent to marry the prince from another kingdom but en route is forced into swapping places with her lady-in-waiting. This retelling of “The Goose Girl” is riveting. I instantly cared about Alyrra, and appreciated how thoughtfully and effectively the story walks a line between darkness and hope -- between fear and trust, sadness and joy. Alyrra’s new life has dangers and difficulties, but also positive things -- satisfaction in her work, a supportive found-family. She becomes increasingly aware of injustice around her, but her story is shaped by her choices -- to be kind, to seek justice and bring change.

The Physicians of Vilnoc, a novella in the World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold: Penric and Desdemona are summoned to deal with an outbreak of a mysterious disease. This could easily be an intense story and, oddly enough, it isn’t. Given the current state of the world, I’m glad Bujold didn’t go with the dark, harrowing possibilities and instead wrote about Pen investigating how the disease is transmitted while treating as many patients as he can. Still a stressful experience for Pen, but I was confident his worst fears wouldn’t transpire. And it was satisfying to get a better understanding regarding the best way for Pen and Des to use their knowledge and skills.

Hamster Princess: Ratpunzel by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): Like Of Mice and Magic, this is another entertaining twist on a fairytale. When Harriet helps her friend Wilbur to find a stolen hydra egg, they come across someone else in need of help -- a rat with a very long tail.

Battle Born by Amie Kaufman: A satisfying conclusion to Ice Wolves and Scorch Dragons, with a couple of unexpected developments and a lot of expected emphasis on wolves, dragons and humans working together. I liked the realism of this. Anders and his sister Rayna have both cool shapeshifting abilities and special status arising from their parentage. But their success depends upon the support of resourceful friends and wise, trustworthy adults. They save the day, not because they know all the answers but because they bring people together. This trilogy is one I wish I could send back in time for my eleven year old self.

Time of Our Lives by Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegemund-Broka: Two teenagers cross paths while touring East Coast colleges. There’s a lot I found interesting: Fitz’s fascination with words; Juniper’s enthusiasm and passion for the college-choosing process; the way they challenge each other; their intense family situations; and the glimpses of university life. However, I ended up feeling oddly annoyed. I was drawn into the story because Fitz and Juniper’s perspectives and motives were so very real and understandable, but something about some of their later choices and thoughts seemed too pat. Like the level of realism slipped slightly because the authors wanted to get their Message For The Teens across.

Tweet Cute by Emma Lord: Two teenagers, two business Twitter accounts and one very public argument about grilled cheese. Pepper and Jack see each other in class and cross paths training at the pool, but they don’t realise that they’re at war on Twitter nor pseudonymously chatting on a school-based app, like something out of You’ve Got Mail. This was a lot of fun -- super cute and full of Pepper’s passion for baking, Jack’s passion for his family’s deli, complicated-but-ultimately-supportive family relationships, and references to internet culture. I like how the story explores the strengths, the pressures and the problems of social media.

Text, Don’t Call: an illustrated guide to the introverted life by INFJoe by  Aaron T. Caycedo-Kimura: The text offers a basic explanation of introversion. It might be a decent introduction for someone new to the topic, but I found it a bit too basic to be interesting. However, the illustrations were great! Very funny and often relatable, and in one or two cases, usefully thought-provoking.

White Eagles by Elizabeth Wein: When Germany invades Poland, eighteen year old Kristina of the Polish Air Force has a chance to escape with her aeroplane ‐‐ and an unexpected stowaway. Her journey allows for a fascinating bird's-eye view of Europe in 1939 and of the challenges posed by such a trip. This novella-sized story is aimed to be both accessible and interesting to reluctant or dyslexia readers. It has moments where I, personally, would have liked more detail but I've worked with struggling readers and I think it's so awesome this sort of thing exists.

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Chapter 2: On Palm Avenue

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WORD COUNT: 3.3K

A/N: Please ignore this weird gif lol I thought this one was perfect but couldn’t figure out how tf to crop it. Anyway, enjoy it! 

Read on Ao3

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As the warmth of summer night fell, a phone ring echoed in the downstairs hall of the Bass house at the front of the home. The phone rang for almost a minute before Mrs. Bass could catch it on its final ring. “Ello, this is the Bass residences.” Mrs. Bass said, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel. “Hey Mamá, it’s Tommy. Is Sammi home?” Tommy replied from his side of the phone, sitting in his shared bedroom with Vince. “Oh ello, Tommy! Yes, Samantha is in her room, I’ll call her down.” 

 “Thanks, Mamá.” Tommy smiled as he heard his mother yell through the phone. Sammi skipped down the stairs, jumping at the last step walking to the wall phone, “Yeah, Mamá?”. “Tommy wants to talk to you. Dinner is almost ready, so don’t take too long” Mrs. Bass passed the phone to Sammi and walking back into the kitchen. Sammi leaned her back flat against the wall, exhaling loudly. Sammi wasn’t entirely over with what had happened this afternoon. If it weren’t for Vince’s somewhat attempt of mending things, she would’ve made up an excuse to avoid Tommy right away. She didn’t understand how Tommy and Vince could let Nikki do something crazy. While she knew Tommy could be crazy and fun, this seemed different in comparison. Sammi put the phone against her ear, trying her best to be eager at Tommy. 

 “Yeah, Tommy, what’s up?” Sammi asked, playing with the spiral phone cord. “Hey Sam, Vince told me he invited you to the apartment tomorrow. Are you gonna come?” Tommy said, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. “Uh yeah, I’m thinking about it. I don’t have work tomorrow, so I figured it beat studying all day.” Sammi slid down the wall sitting on the floor. “Well, the apartment is near the strip on Palm Avenue. You can’t miss it.” “Okay, cool. Like I said I’ll think about it."

 Sammi said with no enthusiasm, silence falling between the phone call. Tommy hated awkward silence whenever he talked to someone. He knew Sammi was in a mood right away when she got passed the phone. Tommy threw the drumstick across the room and huffed. “Look, Sammi I’m sorry about Nikki’s driving, okay? I should’ve told him to stop.” Tommy said in hopes of Sammi coming by tomorrow. He wanted that relationship back with his little sister. Tommy knew his life was gonna be crazy in anything he did, but he still wanted his sisters by his side. “If you want, after we practice, you, me, and Athena can eat at the diner nearby. It’s pretty good. You could also help me with the sign.” while Tommy couldn’t see it, Sammi was smiling at the thought of them all hanging out again. “Yeah, that be fun. What time do you want me to come by then?” Sammi asked, hearing her mother yell for dinner. “You can come by 2. You’ll finally get to meet Mick! He’s like an alien, I swear!” Tommy said, happily looking up to see Vince walk in the room to grab something. “Cool. I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye, Toms.” Sammi said. “Later, Sams!” Tommy said before hanging up the phone and walking into the small living room.  

 Tommy dropped himself on the sofa next to Nikki and Mick working on a song. “Why are you so happy, Teenager?” Mick said, looking up from his guitar over Nikki. Nikki continued to scribble on his beaten up notebook, ignoring the conversation going on between him. “My sister’s gonna come see us practice tomorrow! You’ll finally get to meet her, Mick. She’s really cool, I swear!” Tommy smiled while getting up to grab a beer from the fridge. “We met her today. She’s nothing like Tommy.” Nikki mumbled, still glued to the notebook. “Yeah, that’s because you pissed her off. She still the same cute little Shirley Temple to me.” Vince said with a smile walking into the living room. Vince grabbed a beer and sat on the white dining chair in front of the sofa.

 Nikki looked up at Vince with an annoyance reminding him of Samantha’s dislike towards him. “She even has a new nickname for Nikki. Kept calling him porcupine the whole time.” Vince chuckled, taking a swing for his beer as he made Mick smirk a small bit. “Yeah, I already apologized to Sammi about today. Honestly, Vince, thanks for inviting her, man. I for sure thought she was gonna avoid me even more after that.” Tommy said before high fiving Vince as he pulled a chair next to him. “Well, from how you guys are describing her, this’ll sure be a treat tomorrow,” said Mick as he put down his guitar to take a sip of his beer. Nikki thought for a moment about what could happen tomorrow. He could try to be kind to Samantha and hopefully get her to stop calling him porcupine. Nikki also remembered the little moment of Vince in the backseat with little Lee. Nikki smirked up at Vince with squinting eyes, “Hey Vince, how’s Beth doing? Isn’t she gonna come to practice tomorrow as well?”. Vince wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, leaning back into the chair, remembering about the curly blonde. “Fuck, guess this will be a treat tomorrow,” Vince muttered quietly as he took the last sip of beer for the night. 

  The sun rose high and bright the next morning, and so did Sammi. Sammi rose from her bed, immediately turning on the radio to begin her day. Heat of The Moment blared from the portable radio in the room, and curtains were drawn out to let in the sun. Sammi opened her closet, dancing a little, looking for something cute to wear. She didn’t want to take forever getting ready, already knowing how far Tommy’s apartment was from their house. For once in a long time, Sammi felt happy having some time to spend with Tommy. Even if with the bumps in the road, she was still excited to see the band fully in action. It was something Tommy always wanted to do, and that made her happy. After about 10 minutes of staring at her closet and drawers, Sammi changed into acid high waisted loose jeans with a black sunflower cut up shirt. The redhead sat down at her desk, pulling out a mirror close to her face. Sammi always wanted to look her best with every chance she got. She had a touch a mascara to her dark lashes, a tap of blush to her cheeks, and a shimmery pink lip gloss. After she was done, Sammi skipped down the stairs to find her dad sitting in the living room recliner reading the newspaper. She grabbed her denim jacket from the coat rack and slid on a pair of white superstars. 

“And where are you going so early? I thought classes didn’t start ’til this coming Monday?” Mr. Bass asked, peering up to Sammi. Sammi dropped herself on the white sofa near her father’s recliner. “I’m actually gonna go hang out with Tommy! He wants me to see his new band. Did you know Vince is in it? I think he’s the singer.” Sammi said gleefully. Mr. Bass smiled, “Well, that’s good; you and Tommy are getting along. For a minute there, it seemed like you two were growing apart.” Mr. Bass turned the page of his newspaper. Sammi bit her nails, remembering Tommy’s words at the mall.

Even though Sammi didn’t want to admit it, she was beginning to notice the habit she was building on avoiding her only brother. “Yeah, I’ve just been busy getting ready for another semester and working,” Sammi said, avoiding direct eye contact with her dad. “Well alright, then. I hope you have a nice time and careful driving into the city. Oh, and can you tell your brother to return the van? I don’t remember telling him he can take it.” Mr. Bass said as he read along. “Alrighty, dad,” Sammi kissed her father’s cheek, “I’ll be careful driving and won’t come home late, promise.” Sammi quickly walked out the door and into the impala. 

   After driving down west for a full hour, Sammi pulls up to the only fully outdoor apartment complex on the entire street. Sammi switched off the ignition before stepping out to hear a drum blaring out from the second floor. “Hey!” Sammi turned her head fast to see a man in all black leather with sunglasses on walking down the outdoor stairs. He seemed to be almost Vince’s height and had longer hair than the rest of the guys. He looked so out of place with all of southern California. “Are you, Samantha? Tommy’s little sister?” Sammi scrunched her eyebrows together with confusion and scratching the side of her head. “Uhh yeah, I am. Who are you exactly?” Sammi asked as the man approached her.

 “I’m Mick Mars. I’m the guitar player for this band. Nice to meet you.” Mick extended his hand out to Sammi, which was hastily accepted. “Oh cool. Vince mentioned I didn’t get to meet you yet. He said you were like an alien.” Sammi giggled shortly before Mick glared at the redhead. “Yeah just because I’m the oldest and don’t have the same ideas as them, I’m the alien.” Mick shrugged then asked, “You wanna be nice and help me get a couple of guitars from my car?”. Sammi noticed the small red car across the street, “Yeah! I’d be happy to help!”. 

 “Hey Tommy, your sister’s outside,” Nikki said as he peeked out of the window through the blinds. Tommy hurried over from his drum set with Vince in tow seeing Sammi hold a guitar case that Mick passed to her. “Awe Sammi’s already nice to Mick.” Vince chuckled, looking over Nikki’s shoulder, locking his eyes only on Sammi. “Oh hey, she’s an hour early! Way better than I’ll ever be.” Tommy chuckled. He moved past Vince walking outside of the apartment, leaning over the railing. “Hey, Sammi! Thanks for helping Mick!” Tommy yelled as Sammi, and Mick crossed the street.

 Sammi immediately regretted helping Mick carry this freaking guitar case. She wobbled all the way to the stairs behind Mick, barely having enough strength to care for the case. Nikki followed Tommy out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Mick. He could quickly notice Sammi struggling to not bang the heavy case on the concrete steps. Nikki felt somewhat unfortunate and proceeded to walk towards her. “Here let me take that for you, Samantha. I know how fucking heavy these things can be.” Nikki said, carefully removing the case from Sammi’s grasp, who almost tripped up the final step. “I could’ve done it,” Sammi mumbled as she passed the case looking up at Nikki with a pout. Nikki snickered with a smirk leaning on the case and lowering his face to Sammi. “You could just say you’re welcome and be nice,” Nikki said with a smile. Sammi only rolled her eyes, walking away from Nikki and hugging Tommy before stepping into the apartment.  

 When Sammi walked in, her eyes grew wide, scanning the whole living room in its complete filth. She could see burnt spots on the greyish rug with dead cockroaches on them. She even saw dark boot like footprints leading to one of the bedrooms. The smell of cigarette smoke filled up the entire apartment and maybe also weed. One bedroom door looked like it was falling off the hinges. Beer bottles all thrown into a corner next to the beaten-up sofa that used to be white. “Tommy how the fuck do you live here?! And with two other guys!?” Sammi wrinkled her nose, turning to Tommy. Tommy could only give a tight-lipped smile closing the door behind him and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, you don’t like the beautiful smell of cigarette ash? Or the decorative footprints of Nikki from lighting him on fire at our shows? It’s what makes the Motley House feel special!”

 Vince jokingly said as he put his arm around Sammi, squeezing her shoulder. Sammi playfully rolled her eyes and took notice of the equipment layout. “The Motley House? Why that name for this dump?” Sammi asked. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Mick over here picked the name Motley Crue! Isn’t it sick?” Tommy said, with pride twirling his drumsticks. Sammi only smiled and nodded at her brother happily. “Well, you guys should clean this Motley House at least once a month,” Sammi said, throwing herself down on the sofa. With that quick move, the right side of the couch collapsed, making Sammi yelp and slide down. “See, I fucking knew that piece of shit was gonna fucking break!” Nikki said, looking at Sammi, “Just didn’t think it was gonna be Little Lee’s fault.”. Sammi got up and moved to a stable looking chair near her. “Sorry.” Sammi grinned, trying not to laugh. “So are you guys gonna practice or what?” Sammi asked, crossing her legs Indian style. The group of men all looked at each other and processed to hook everything up. Mick beginning everything with a heavy clean guitar riff.

 Sammi was amazed at all of them, to say the least. They all functioned together perfectly and listened to what they each had to say about something. Tommy looked so happy, smiling as he beat the drums making Sammi light up as well. She also had to admit Nikki was talented in playing bass. As the guys were about to take a break, a light knock came from the front door. Nikki opened it to find the definition of blonde rich Cali girl. She strutted into the place like she owned it and most likely never smiled in her life. Before she could go straight to her primary target, she noticed Sammi and stopped dead in her tracks. “Who the fuck are you?” the short hair blonde asked with an icy stare. Sammi sat frozen in her chair and pressing her lips tightly together, looking at Tommy like a deer in the headlights.

 Vince swiftly moved in front of the blonde, blocking Sammi from her view. “It’s okay, baby. She’s just Tommy’s little sister.” Vince said, kissing the blonde’s cheek and neck, trying to defuse her temper. She still stared at Sammi with cold eyes making Sammi even more uncomfortable. Sammi got up from the chair and passed the couple to stand near Nikki. “Hey, Toms, why don’t we start on the sign for the show tomorrow? You guys do have spray paint, right?” Sammi shifted her eyes away from Vince, only trying to pay attention to the rest. “Uh yeah, I’ll get the stuff, and we can do it outside across the street,” Tommy said, getting up from his set and walked to his room. Nikki put down his bass and looked at Sammi, opening the door for her. 

 They both walked out together, going down the stairs in silence. “That was Beth. Vince’s girlfriend, if you haven’t already guessed.” Nikki said, looking at Sammi’s confused expression. Sammi leaned her back flat against the cold brick wall observing the apartment door from a distance. Nikki stood next to Sammi, their shoulders almost touching. “Look I’m not usually one for apologies, so how about I make it up to you,” Nikki said, staring down at his boots, his hair covering a majority of his face away from everyone. Sammi smirked, only staring straight ahead. “What do you have in mind?” Sammi asked. “We could go eat at the diner that nearby. I could pay for you. I know everyone likes free food.” Nikki said, picking his head up to give direct eye contact. “Tommy said he wanted to take Athena and me to eat after this. You can tag along and still give me free food.” Sammi said, smiling at Nikki right when Tommy and Mick approached them. “Okay! Help me put this up, man, so me and Sammi can get a spraying!” Tommy said, dropping everything to the ground. 

 Later that day, as the California sun began to set, Nikki sat at the end of a round booth with two of the Lee siblings. Sammi sat in the middle of Nikki and Tommy, looking through the breakfast section of the menu with pursed lips. Tommy kept turning his head back, waiting to see Athena come any minute now. “So what’s the Little Lee in the mood for?” Nikki asked, leaning on the table, crossing his arms. Sammi looked up, scrunching her eyebrows together and smiling. “Is that my new nickname? Little Lee?” Sammi asked with a sweet giggle. “Well, you don’t let me call you Sammi, so thought I’d come up with something,” Nikki said, shrugging his shoulders and smirking. Sammi playfully rolled her eyes, turning her head to see Athena walking towards the booth. With a big smile, all three siblings hugged each other and slid down the round booth. Nikki felt a bit uneasy with all this happiness going around between the three siblings. Even though he had his own half-sister, he still didn’t get the same feelings Tommy receives when he sees his sisters. “Hey, Nikki! Haven’t you seen you in a while. How was practice?” Athena asked, taking off her denim jacket similar to Sammi’s. “It was good until Vince’s girlfriend crashed it,” Nikki said, taking a sip from his soda. Athena snickered and looked over at her little sister, “And how has Sammi seen the band?”. “These guys are honestly terrific. I’ll admit it.” Sammi said, looking at Tommy and Nikki. Tommy gave Sammi a side hug with a smile growing more prominent as the day went on. He couldn’t express how thrilled he was to be in this diner with the people he loved in one booth. The foursome continued joking around as they ate and told stories of their childhood to Nikki. “For some reason when Sammi was about 6, her favorite toy was these pair of pink scissors. She would cut everything almost every day until one day she accidentally cut her hair upwards-”

  “Dude she had straight up mushroom hair! And her hair is actually brown, so it looked like those portobello mushrooms!” Tommy said with an uncontrollable laugh with Athena following in his steps. Sammi could only bite her nails and slightly look at Nikki in the eye who was trying to not laugh. “Well it sounds like you were a fun little girl, Samantha,” Nikki said, biting his lip to contain his laughter. He didn’t know if Sammi would pop off on him if he did laugh, but he did not want to test the waters. Athena looked at Sammi and Nikki with a confused face. “He calls you Samantha? Only mom and dad call you full name by when you’re in trouble.” Athena said, taking a sip of her grape soda. “Yeah well, I told him to call me Samantha. So let us move on from that.” Sammi said, messing with her nails. “Hey I was thinking, why don’t you guys come to the show tomorrow? Both of you haven’t seen us play and it would be nice. Wouldn’t you agree, Tommy?” Nikki asked, looking at the Lee’s. Athena and Sammi looked at Tommy, waiting for an answer of approval. “Yeah, that would be a cool idea. You guys can even party with us at the apartment.” Tommy said, putting his arms around his sisters. They smiled happily all together. Sammi looked up at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it was getting for L.A traffic. “Shit, I promised dad I wasn’t gonna be home late. I have to go.” Sammi said, pushing Tommy and Athena out of the booth to get out. “Oh dude, tell dad I’ll take the van back Saturday. I need it for tomorrow.” Sammi nodded at Tommy before hugging him goodbye, followed by Athena. Sammi turned to Nikki, who stood up to pay for the food. With hesitation, Sammi hugged Nikki goodbye taking him by surprise but still returning it. “Thanks for the food, Nikki.” Sammi said, smiling up. “Anytime Little Lee,” Nikki smirked back before Sammi left the diner ultimately. 

“Well, that went better than I expected! I think she’s starting to warm up to you, man!” Tommy said, slinging his arm around Nikki. “Think you’re right for once, T-bone.” 

[zynita]

My Decade in Books

I was tagged by the lovely @brightbeautifulthings and her blog is filled with exactly that, so please jump over and give her a follow.

The 2010's were good years - they weren't perfect by any means and they involved a lot of growing up/learning what it means to be an adult, but I think that I came out of them a much better person and better prepared for what the world has in store for me. Looking back, I read a lot of amazing books! When I went back to make my choices for this post I was surprised to find that I read 333 books from 2012 through 2019! 2012 was the year that I created my Goodreads account and since then I have used it to track my reading progress over the years, so looking back at 2010 and 2011 may be a bit hazy, but there are a couple of special reading moments near and dear to my heart that I can share. So let's get into this~

The Rules: Respond to the prompt “My Decade in Books” however you want and then tag some people! I decided to share a book and/or series which defined the year along with some of my memories/reasons as to for doing so. You can do that or make up a response that is entirely your own, there is no wrong way to go about it.

2010: Yep, like many I got caught up in the Twilight craze and while I still find sparkly vampires a bit odd/silly, this series did motivate me to start reading again on a regular basis. Prior to that, I had been in a car accident in the late fall/early winter of 2006 and then my daughter was born April 2007. Unfortunately, my mental health was not the greatest as I was dealing with post-partum depression in combination with my pre-existing depression and possible/slight post-concussive changes. In 2010 I was given a boxed set of the series as a birthday gift and reading it ultimately helped spark my interest in books again - this was one of the first steps to breaking out of my apathetic depression. I will always be thankful for Twilight because it showed me that I was still capable of feeling real living breathing changing emotions.

2011: This year was marked by the completion of my Associate's Degree in Accounting/Business Administration that spring and acceptance to continue studying accounting at the local state university. My daughter was 4 years old and about to start preschool. We were able to get a place of our own moving in with my wife (then girlfriend) into a cute 2-bedroom apartment - we became a family. One of the best memories I have from our time living there was how at night I would read the story of the boy wizard who lived in a closet under the stairs to our daughter. This series would go on to define so much of our lives as it became her favorite for a number of years - the first major book series she read entirely on her own, eventually going on to do so in Spanish as well. We became a small flock of Ravenclaws and she has bloomed into quite the reader herself. I will always have a soft spot in my heart and memory for this series because of the story it tells and for the part it played in our story.

2012: I previously read King's Dark Tower in the mid 2000's and the story deeply resonated with me. When I found out that King was planning to release a new Dark Tower book, The Wind Through the Keyhole, I knew that I had to reread the series. The series' story feels dark and gritty, the tale of a knight from a world that has moved on fulfilling his quest to reach the Tower, revered as the center of all worlds. There is a certain tragic nostalgic romance to the story of an old knight in a dying world haunted by his past questing with what initially seems to be an unlikely group, only to eventually come together as something more - as ka-tet. This is a series that I know I will return to in the future.

2013: If you go through my Tumblr history, specifically on my book blog, you will come across my reviews and a large portion of my reviews written in 2013 dealt with my read through of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series - 22 books and 1 novella (Guilty Pleasures through Affliction). I first picked up Guilty Pleasures during a book sale in ~2011 and I recall reading it and a couple of the subsequent books (maybe 3 of them at most). At first, I was drawn in by Anita herself but when I came back to the books in 2013 and read the entire series I found myself intrigued by the many characters around Anita and her relationships with them. The series started as one thing and developed into something different - changing focus from a supernatural police procedural to being more character driven. This doesn't mean that Anita doesn't still go out and hunt the bad guys, but it is no longer the absolute main focus of the story and I am okay with that. Anita and her relationship struggles helped me to understand/come to terms with the concept that love isn't the same across all relationships, that people love differently and that is okay. It helped me to become comfortable in the knowledge that I can love others and it doesn't compromise/lessen the love that I have for my wife. For that reason alone, I will always have a strong admiration/fondness for Anita Blake. I plan on reading the two most recent releases (Crimson Death and Serpentine) some time this year!~

2014: This year was a very very difficult year for me and my wife and I spiraled into a deep depression. Due to my mental health difficulties I failed to complete my bachelor's degree program and had to leave school. I ultimately wound up doing nothing more than sleeping, playing video games, and attempting to read when I could. I remember that I was scrolling through Tumblr and I saw a post praising The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - I was immediately enamoured with the cover, the starkness of the black/white/red, a circus, magic, and intrigue, I had to read it. My first read through took me 4 days because I never wanted it to end. This book helped me break a major reading slump through its beautiful lyrical prose of opponents turned lovers forged and bound within the fire locked behind the blackened gates of the traveling Les Cirques des Reves. I have read this book a total of 4 times and each time has only further deepened my love and appreciation for it - this book is my ultimate comfort read (though it may now have strong competition from her sophomore novel, The Starless Sea).

2015: At the behest of my love and my pseudo brother (I basically adopted him as the younger brother I never had) I picked up/started reading Robert Jordan's epic fantasy saga Wheel of Time which was ultimately completed by Brandon Sanderson following the death of Jordan. The series made up a great deal of my 2015 reading though I did make time for other books as well. What I particularly loved about the series was a combination of the richness of the world and the complexity of the characters. We witness these characters as they mature and grow into themselves ultimately becoming worthy of the title of ta'veren placed upon them by the Wheel. With the Amazon TV show on the horizon, I will likely pick up the series again and with subsequent readthroughs comes the opportunity to pick up on little things/foreshadowing that may have been missed before.

2016: This was another year where I didn't read a lot of books (only 38), but the majority of the ones I read were ones that I really enjoyed and Gail Carriger's Parasol Protectorate Series was a notable favorite. While I was working on my bachelor's degree I had the opportunity to take an upper division English course focused on Victorian Era literature and what started as a spark of interest became a warm comforting fire. Parasol Protectorate combined two genres which I had enjoyed on their own (historical fiction and paranormal/fantasy[?]) into something which felt entirely unique. I fell in love with the characters and thoroughly enjoyed the series - so much so that I have returned to Carriger's Victorian Era with my current read through of her Finishing School Series, an upcoming re-read of Parasol Protectorate, and a first time read through of the sequel series The Custard Protocol.

2017: So much of 2017 is honestly a blur... I was hired in July 2015 as a medical transcriptionist but over the following years would continue to gain increased responsibilities (with associated pay increases) allowing for some pretty notable things to occur leading up to my girlfriend and I getting married!~ We had been dating/living together in addition to having been friends for so much time before that it just made sense for us to get married and I can't picture my life without her in it. My favorite read that year was E.K. Johnston's That Inevitable Victorian Thing for so many reasons. The novel plays with history as we know it and speculates on what would have occurred had colonialism never taken root and instead a utopia was formed under the British Empire - an empire without racism, homophobia, and classism built upon mutual respect and harmony. This book is full of diversity/representation/LGBTQIA+/etc. while exploring identity, orientation, and relationships in a respectful/open-minded manner. I have already slated this book for a re-read as soon as I finish my current read through of Carriger's works.

2018: This book is probably one of the most important books I have ever read. I can't remember how exactly I came across it but I knew that I had to read it as soon as I read the synopsis. I then shared it with my daughter (who was then 11 years old) and we decided to buddy read it. This book...this is the book that I wish I had had the opportunity to read when I was that same age attempting to learn about and understand my own sexuality. This book has also allowed my wife and me to have a continuing, open dialogue with our daughter (now turning 13 in April). I actually Tweeted this basic sentiment to Ms. Blake upon finishing the book and she actually replied to me!~

Since then my daughter has read the book multiple times and we bought her a hardback copy for Christmas. Maybe one day we can attend a signing and thank Ms. Blake for Ivy's story personally.

2019: My favorite of read of 2019 was Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity. ((I know, I could have easily posted and gushed about Erin Morgenstern's The Starless Sea which I absolutely love but given that I had previously mentioned The Night Circus I felt it prudent to discuss something else.)) When I was book blogging in 2013-2014 I remember seeing a lot of posts talking about it and its unique approach to storytelling. I remember picking up the ebook but I was so caught up in reading other things at the time that it sat on my TBR shelf. Fast forward to last year and I finally decided to take the time and read it. Color me 100% floored and angry at myself for waiting so long to read it! I fell absolutely in love with Verity/Julie, with the story that she wove, with the friendship between her and Maddie. The synopsis describes the book as "harrowing" and "beautifully written," descriptors that I wholeheartedly agree with. My wife knew how much I enjoyed it and I received a copy of the hardback edition which will eventually grace my bookshelf (sort of kind of need to buy one first).

So that is My Decade in Books! I am very bad about tagging people in things, but if you saw the post and feel so inclined to make one of your own please do and tag me in it to check out. If you stuck through this post to the end, I greatly appreciate it and wish you well in the new reading decade.

*Zyn/Melanie*

[polygamyff]

21.

Staring at the bags upon bags upon bags of baby clothing, maybe I went overboard. My clothes and things came yesterday to the home, I have to sort that out because my little chubster doesn’t want to know. I said are you coming to help and she said no, she rude. It’s been three days and she is not over it, it’s not a bad thing “Hey, bitch. Get off the bag” that dumbass dog getting on my nerves “Khaleesi, come here” walking over to her “no!” I said with a stern tone, I felt bad because she gave me those puppy dog eyes of sadness “I’m sorry, just stop it” so the small living room is filled with baby clothes and then the large living room and also my office is filled with my things. I realise I have too much, I need to do something. This moving house bullshit is hard, I am liking this more relax, more me time business. That does mean I am ignoring work but I am learning to balance, it may bite me on my ass because technically I should be planning. All I know is Nalah is in Dubai and that is going to plan and Malik is working with the contractor to get me a bigger garage. They went to build an underground one but then dealing with the noise, will it be done on time. So many decisions, Malik is a bum. He hasn’t got no food shopping, I need a woman to help me get things like plates and pots and pans and I don’t know “Maurice, the designer for your daughter bedroom is here” turning my head “hello I’m Al” shaking his hand “I’m Maurice, nice to meet you I have heard good things about you. Thank you Malik” smiling st my brother “that’s a good thing, when I heard I said I remember I helped you with the Santa Monica redesign that is happening now” Nodding my head “yes, I wasn’t there shameful you spoke with Ally but this is my new home, I have a few things I need you to sketch out actually. My daughter room is one but my office too. Everything else is pretty much done, I just need to get some things changed. The carpet is all ripped up off the ground so let’s go” leading him to my daughter’ room.

The room is now empty which is good, I got the builders to take the things out. This guy is just staring at the room, maybe it’s how he works “beautiful sized room” is the first thing he said “do you know her name? Have you thought of one?” Shaking my head “no, but I want this bedroom to be luxury, I want her to have everything. Don’t care about the cost, something where when she grows to be five she can still have the layout. I know when she is a teenager it will change but we can use it for a while. I want her to feel like the princess she is, you know what I mean? In my eyes she is the princess, the heiress to my throne but to me she already got it because she got my heart. I want to make sure when she can start walking and talking, seeing things around her that she is a queen. You know what I mean?” Looking st the guy, he smiled at me “I do” smiling back at him thinking why he smiling at me like that “I still hate you” Robyn said behind me, my eyes widened turning around “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me, I mean come on” let me shut my mouth “hi Terry and Thomas” holy shit her parents are here “how did you know I was here?” I asked “Malik, I came here first. I didn’t think you would be here. I assumed you would be working as you would” I have to keep things formal now “no, I am trying to get this house done. This is the designer Al, he’s going to do baby’ room” Robyn smiled “we heard your little speech, it’s cute” Robyn shook Al hand “hi” shaking her dad’ hand, I don’t think Robyn expected me here.

“I’ll just leave you to it” I said to Al shutting the door “Robyn came home to us and told us, we didn’t believe her. We was like how could he? He wouldn’t do such a thing but here we are. I am in shock” Terry said, is she talking about the home. She must talking about the home “I ain’t no deadbeat, I wanted to make sure in life that my daughter and also Robyn are secured. They have a home, it has both of our names on it but it will go to her. I ain’t playing, I’m not here to upset anyone or destroy any relationships, I’m here because I love your daughter. I want herself and the people around her to be secured, not to feel like if I die and I know Robyn hates me saying this but she is fine without me. I have a lot going on for next year but it’s for her future, things are being developed and it’s for my daughter and the apartment complex will be built under Robyn but nobody is to know that, I have it covered. I’m thinking ahead and I don’t want you to think I’m just some rich guy that got your daughter pregnant” Robyn hit my arm “you didn’t tell me that?” Looking over at her “well you know now, it’s dealt with. Things will fall into place, it’s just getting there and yes this is our home” Terry looks so emotional “just makes me so happy to see you looking after my daughter, ain’t that right Thomas” he looked around the hallways nodding his head “I can’t complain, it’s a beautiful place and you’re treating my daughter how I want” I felt a sigh of relief.

Walking down the steps with Robyn and her family “this home is beautiful, I really can’t wait to stay over sometime” Terry said “you can, we have spare rooms, two that are spare. You’re welcome when ever” Looking to the side of me at Robyn, her stomach all poking out, she cute. This is really my girl, the love of my life is really having my baby. Something I dreamt about for so long and its coming true, how beautifully elegant she is just being pregnant “these stairs are so beautiful but are a long way up and down” Robyn caught me staring, looking ahead of me “uh yeah, there is a elevator. It’s on the other side, if you was paying attention then you would have known that. You too busy with the dog” which was true, she ignored my ass when I was speaking. We got to the bottom of the steps “What!? An elevator in this house? That is crazy and baby” Robyn stood in front of me “you know I don’t like when you speak about you not being around, I cannot be without you Maurice. You mean so much to me, you don’t understand how much I cannot be without you” seeing the stress on her face, the hurt and concern. It really got to my head “Robyn, I am here. Who else is going to call you chubster, hey. Come her” wrapping my arm “Mi Amor, you know I am going to be around for many years to come but I need to do this Bonita. I have to do this, there is too much to happen if I don’t. You know what will happen? If I just left it, I didn’t change anything. If I died and did nothing, my brother and sister could scream and shout about my daughter but they won’t acknowledge you or my daughter. And when I mean they, that means the Davenport family, they will make out you’re lying. They wouldn’t want to know and I wouldn’t want you to fight it, it’s not a nice thing. So this way, it’s yours. You’re living good, I am happy. I finally got you to give it too so please don’t give me that sad face” moving back from Robyn “I don’t like the lifestyle” catching Terry and Thomas just watching us “he is right, anyone with the money he has. He has too, he’s a very clever man. He is doing what he should, he’s stepping up more than I thought” Thomas complimented me “but let’s just be positive and show your family our home now, where is Leon? He was excited about seeing it?” he is missing “oh he’s busy, they are having a famous party at the club tonight and he needs to be there, he will see it soon” I thought his loud mouth was missing, he ain’t being all dramatic.

Terry paused and turned to me, she pointed at the bags not saying anything “who is that for?” she asked, she knows the answer to this “erm the baby, I just got carried away” let me just say that “wow, babies do grow. This a lot, wow” I chuckled “yes I know, but she deserves the world, but this part of the home is very messy now because I am doing building work around here and all that. But erm, I wanted to say. Robyn tells me that, like I don’t know about this. As a company we donate to charity but I don’t know who but, you help. People in need, the youth. Robyn was saying, I have a lot of clothes. Ninety percent of the time I am wearing suits, this has come from Texas and I ain’t wear any of it, they got tags on still and I rather give these away I mean if that is something that you could do. I think I have about thousands of pounds worth of clothing, I could throw them away but they brand new” I hope I ain’t said anything wrong “awww Maurice, really? That is sweet, why don’t you come yourself. You saw those kids at my apartment, you can aspire them. They just need help, and you see many people from different backgrounds. It’s nice to give back” Robyn said “I do want to do that, I would love to do that. If I could change someone’s life I would, even do a youth program and I would pay but I need to know how” Terry smiled at me “that would be beautiful but you can do that only if you are going to be there, Thomas is there. Aren’t you? He finds it hard at times” Thomas nodded his head “you see these kids, some are teenagers and some are going into adulthood. I find it hard because you want to help them but you can’t” licking my lips “I know so many people, I would love to work together and do something like that or pay for someone to get into college, but I was going to ask that because I do need to empty this out” I am glad I got to say it with her parents around, I want them to know I am not a heartless man.

Malik walking to the back yard with Khaleesi “I was going to ask about her, awww give her here” here she go with that damn dog “this is my brother, if he hasn’t already told y’all” I pointed at him “he did, you can tell. You both have those small eyes” Terry said “he’s the ugly brother” I pointed out laughing “he playing but Maurice can I borrow your car?” frowning at him “I have one car outside, what do I drive then?” I questioned “I don’t know, but then what do I drive?” he retorted “what doing with the car?” going out there to do what “just seeing friends, it’s not a big deal” I don’t like Malik using my cars, he needs to get his own “you better be back by six, I need to go to Santa Monica ok?” Malik smirked at me “I ain’t playing, you have to come back got it?” he’s not a child but I worry about him, he’s still like a child “I will, bye family. Nice seeing you all” he walked off “could have the baby shower here” Terry said “I thought the same thing but with the work going on, that will be going on for a while, it may even be going on outside when the baby is here. It’s my fault” I laughed “I have a lot of cars and Robyn is probably not happy about this but they making a underground garage for me, so it’s a lot of digging” I won’t look at Robyn, I know she is angry at me.