#(i agree but i also think the 'these days' part is overstated... this has always been happening)
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y'know it's funny how we talk about certain fan reactions to izzy's death bc i watched the recent m*a*s*h documentary where they talked about abyssinia henry (an episode which kills off a major character) and there was a clip of the showrunner quoting angry letters he received after that episode aired:
'you tricked us' 'you sucked us in' 'we thought this was a comedy show' 'how dare you toy with our feelings'
this is a show set in the KOREAN WAR and people still felt a character death was a 'trick' and a betrayal. not only that but i cannot express how thematically relevant and important this death was for the entire thesis of the show. and yet they received 1,000 letters from viewers about it (though some were praising the episode, and it is overall viewed positively in retrospect).
idk i just found it interesting. this episode came out in 1975 and nothing's really changed.
start discourse on this post and i'll cut off your toes.
#this isn't even really about izzy it's about fandom in general i'm just using him as a jumping off point bc the quotes rang SO familiar#(this is actually a response to a post that i couldn't reblog for some reason (maybe op blocked me? i genuinely can't imagine why))#(which began: the way people cannot take any negative thing happening in tv shows these days is genuinely frightening and incredibly tiring#(i agree but i also think the 'these days' part is overstated... this has always been happening)#(idk if that post was about the ofmd finale but it was posted right after it so)#anyway fun fact: these letters were on display in the smithsonian!#i don't think they're still on display but i do believe the smithsonian retains the whole mash collection#what an interesting piece of fandom history
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‘Black Sails’ Star Luke Arnold Is Creating A Graphic Novel With A Strong Creative Compass
Though he’s had a long run as a working actor, Australian born Black Sails and INXS: Never Tear Us Apart star Luke Arnold says he’s always been a writer. He says that’s related to his favorite part of acting – figuring out the strategy for the performance more than the performance itself.
For Arnold, getting into the space to create is vital. Drama school was followed by the start of his on-screen career, but while he was still writing, he felt a truth that will resonate with many aspiring creators: “For so long you’re so desperate for a paycheck and for something to happen in your career that for so long as a young actor, it’s hard to really focus on something [else],” he says while recounting the process of trying to find time to write in between auditions and jobs.
Arnold is talking with us as he readies the launch of a Kickstarter campaign around a new, high concept graphic novel that he-co-wrote with Chris “Doc” Wyatt. The story plays with shifting realities, twisting truths, and anti-science ideas. It sound expansive and timely, deploying multiple heavy-hitter artists (including Bill Sienkiewicz, Glenn Fabry, Jason Howard, Vince Locke, Brendan McCarthy, Andrea Mutti, and M.K. Perker) in collaboration with The Lab Press. This follows his three novels with a fourth on the way.
Arnold’s writing work is the result of a careful balance that grants him the time to carve out dedicated space to write, doing it in a way that seems to not just impact the work but also reinvigorate him when a new acting role comes along. That balance has come from having worked steadily and from legit financial planning.
“I do put time aside and I know I’ve got to make the acting money last through that time. And make sure there’s enough, all the rent and bills and everything are covered while the money isn’t pouring in the same way it does when you’re on an acting job that gives you a check every week,” says Arnold.
Working in this fashion gives Arnold the ability to not be pushed into bad creative decisions by necessity, accountable to his audience more than to the business side of things. It’s a luxury, to be sure, but one that he is happy to lean into with focus and humbleness (believe me, Arnold gets how lucky he is to be able to put one career down for a moment to pick up another, mentioning it more than once).
“If you start spending so much that now you have to make all your decisions based on finances, you start making the wrong decisions, you start taking jobs you don’t want to take.” says Arnold.
The desire to chase a kind of purity with the creative process extends beyond planning and striving for dedicated time. It also factors into how he chose to pursue this specific process, turning to Kickstarter.
“It takes so many barriers away, because so much in publishing and getting books out can be about this whole network of agents and publishers to the booksellers, to the bookstores, to the people in the bookstores recommending it to readers. And that can be such a great pipeline of people, but it can also limit what people have access to,” Arnold says. “Kickstarter is a very level playing field and very creator driven. So it’s a perfect place for this whole journey to start.”
While Arnold also lauds Kickstarter’s creative community and other benefits, he acknowledges the advantage his name recognition brings, though we both agree that it may, at times, be overstated.
“I think that the’ve got to be careful how I say this. I’m sure when I get opportunities like this, some part of it is that I have have a profile from a TV show. But I think it often gets overestimated, this idea of how much of an audience will follow you between different fields and different mediums,” he says, before I co-sign the thought by reminding that there is a big difference between following someone and giving them a credit card number.
At the end of the day, while some may click because of Arnold’s run on Black Sails (the pirate epic is about to hit Netflix in full), the idea for Essentials has to win them over. It’s why we’re talking with him, to be honest. And so, to end off and share info on the Kickstarter, let’s have him make that sales pitch in his own words.
“Essentials follows Harris Pax, who was the one scientist who foresaw this inter-dimensional collision happening where our dimension collided with another. Now objective reality has become untethered. And people’s subjective realities are becoming real, the way they see the world, their fears, beliefs, ideas are manifesting around them. This was a kind-of COVID baby. This was an idea that we were forming in 2020. A lot of it is dealing with that idea of what the hell do you do when everyone is in their own little world. And we can no longer agree on some basic facts, science, the world we’re in, and how hard is it to do what Harris tries to do, which is to go into these subjective realities and try and convince the person inside that they need to come back to the real world.”
You can check out the Kickstarter for Essentials on April 17.
Source: Uproxx
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Whether or not you believe me, part of the reason Aethy bans calling out abusers/predators and actual instances is because in some cases, sharing links is potentially illegal and could have the site taken down.
Specifically in the instance of "pro-contact MAPs" because... I feel like you can extrapolate why links to those sites might be illegal under US law. We already had a scare last month where someone reported a drawing of BDSM as CSAM to a host that didn't double-check it was actually CSAM (it wasn't.) and had the site's hosting taken down for a few days.
I have an account on Aethy, and I cannot overstate how quickly mods have taken action to ban abusive individuals. I've had to report a few people who tried migrating from pro-contact MAP instances and they've always been banned super quick. Callouts aren't really needed, especially on a site with maybe 200 active users and multiple mods that go through the reports pretty quickly.
Because Aethy hosts problematic adult content, we've been especially at risk of providers pulling the plug. Even if I disagree with some of the other mod actions, making sure there's no predators or anything that could take the site down has been one of their top priorities. There was a whole kerfuffle earlier this year because a BUNCH of people left after someone ended up becoming a pro-contact MAP and getting banned for it.
Also, how would they even enforce "callouts but only if the person is REALLY bad"? Because I can't see a good way of enforcing that. I think that's an unrealistic expectation for a site.
I don't think the mods handled it as best they could, but callouts of any kind are legit banned, as is linking to any pro-contact MAP spaces, and those are the rules you have to agree to when you join.
damn, then i wonder where the fuck THIS information was -- instead, we just had the mods attacking alice and not at all explaining themselves or even sending a DM to them in the first place
plus, alice has explicitly said that they didn't share any links; only proving accounts of the abuser and not providing any links to the actual sites. thus, they hadn't violated aethy's rules
#Anonymous#so that's just a fat double L on their part#idk why they even go so far as saying that alice is an *ANTI*#like??#the resulting behavior and response to their warning just sends red flags to me
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Mage Ranks the JD2023E Map… Physical
Today, we continue our journey into the story mode with the third song, where we meet our fourth character, the popular fitness influencer Brezziana!
MAP: Physical - Dua Lipa
DIFFICULTY: Easy
EFFORT: Intense
JD+ NEEDED?: No
SEASON: Base game/Enter the dancerverses playlist
youtube
Who needs to go to sleep, when it’s my review you can read (under the cut, as always)?
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I’ve never actually heard this song before! I know Dua Lipa (who’s name I keep wanting to spell as ‘Dia Lupa’) is a very popular singer, but I think I’ve only ever heard three songs from her. Nothing against her, she’s just never really on my radar. But if all her songs are as fun as Physical, then I really should be looking more into her, because WOW this is a fun track! It makes me wanna sing along to it... if the dance didn’t make me so out of breath!
Which isn’t a mark against the dance at all! It’s supposed to be a cardio workout, done by an in-universe fitness influencer! And it’s even rated as needing an intense amount of effort, with all the jumping and the spins she does! Seriously tho, everyone makes fun of Locked out of Heaven for the spins like spins aren’t a major part of this map’s chorus... Hell, the first gold move is you dropping to your knees while flexing! And there’s not much repetition in the moves. Well, you do the same sets of moves twice during the verses, but verse 1 vs. verse 2 has completely different sets. However... I don’t think this is a very ‘easy’ routine. In the beta version, this was apparently ranked as “medium”, and I gotta say that I agree with the beta version’s ranking. With how much jumping and popping you have to do, even if it’s easy to follow, it’s gonna be tough for a lot of players at a lower skill level, especially coming off of two easy ranked songs that felt justified in their ‘easy’ rank (and, well, Being The Third Song In The Playlist, it’s gonna feel a bit tougher than just going into it solo).
They may have been just ranking it off our coach, though, who makes everything look easy.
The coach here is Brezziana, who is just... so iconic. Her outfit is so fun, I love the colors, and her body type is so unique compared to the other dancers! The energy she injects into the dance is sooooo much fun!! She’s also the first coach in the story mode to partially lip synch along to her song. She doesn’t do it much on the verses, but she does lip synch basically all the chorus and the bridge. I mean this in a complimentary way, it gives the vibes that she’s making a TikTok! And the way she makes such a physical (no pun intended) routine look so fucking easy cannot be overstated. Trust me, by the time I finished this one, I was ready to make like the first gold move and fucking collapse.
And it’s really cool that she doesn’t hesitate to join Wanderlust and Sara on their quest to get the other coaches back! Her presence seems to calm them, and she gets the vibes immediately. Oh, shit’s going down and she’s gotta dance to help everyone? Hell yeah, let’s fucking go! Open up your portals and let’s get to it!!
The background of a fun little mall is also, well, fun! I’m a sucker for malls and big loud colorful aesthetics, so seeing her dance in such a place is a delight for the eyes! I’m sorry if this review seems shorter than the others, this is just a really solid map, so I feel like it really speaks for itself! And I love that this setting comes back in the extreme alt for this map (which will be ranked separately, as all alts will be)! Another thing I liked about the background is that it seemed extremely lived in! A ton of extras walking around, some reacting to Brezziana’s dancing, some just going about their day, and of course people joining in with her during the chorus. It’s just fun! This map is just pure fun!
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GENERAL RATING: THUMBS UP!
SPECIFIC RATING: 10/10
The first 10/10 I award a map! This routine is fun personified. A fun coach, a fun background, a fun dance, and a fun song! I really couldn’t ask for anything more if I tried! If I had to give any specific criticism to it, I would say that it really should’ve kept it’s beta rating of Medium difficulty, I feel like Easy is a bit of a deceptive ranking. Sure, the moves themselves are easy, but stringing all of them together in this cardio workout, not so much. Also, the tie in to the story line is a bit clunky, but since everyone is technically a silent protagonist, I’m not too terribly pressed about it. But yes, I love this map!! Not much more to say than that!
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Thanks for reading! Next map, we’re encountering a massive difficulty spike and non-binary swag with the map Rather Be! You’re not obligated to follow me, but I’m posting a ranking of a JD 2023 map every day at noon EST until I finish all the maps (and obviously when they add new ones, I’ll review those too!), so if that interests you, please stick around! Have a good day!
~ Mage <3
#mage's rankings of just dance 2023 maps#just dance 2023#jd2023#just dance#i need a just dance tag#dancerverses rankings#the Mage rambles
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it was you all along | g.w
summary: You're a bit surprised when George asks you to the Yule Ball instead of Fred, but you agree to attend with you friend without hesitation. The dance reveals new feelings and revelations.
pairing(s): George Weasley x f! Reader, slight Fred Weasley x Angelina Johnson, Fred Weasley x f! Reader (past)
wc: 2.7k
warning(s): not much, this is almost pure fluff. Past unhealthy relationships??
a/n: This is my first time writing George x Reader so please spare me lmao. I’ve been writing so much for Fred, I’ve gotta give George his flowers too. Also, I mayhaps write a second part to this with smut but I’m not sure yet
a03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30664646
You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve this. You felt like you were in Heaven, George expertly twirled you before pulling you close to him again. He could have asked anyone to the Yule Ball and they would have agreed in a heartbeat, yet he asked you. You couldn’t figure out why. Sure, he was your best friend, but there were so many pretty girls he could have enjoyed the night with. It could have been the start of a new romance instead of him babysitting you and your bruised ego. You deserved to go to the Yule Ball alone, you had been so confident that Fred was going to ask you that you didn’t bother making any other plans (and you most certainly didn’t think to ask George). But of course, Fred asked Angelina and left you in the dust. You shouldn’t have felt so crushed by it, you two had only been a fling, nothing serious. It didn’t hurt as much now, only a little over a week later, so clearly you had overstated your crush on him a bit. At the time, however, it hurt like Hell. You had tried to keep your disappointment to yourself but everyone, save Fred and Angelina, who seemed to be in their own little world, noticed. It was only a day after that that George had asked you to the Ball. Of course, it was a pity ask, but you accepted anyway.
“What are you thinking about? It’s not proper date etiquette to daydream about other men, you know.” George teased, placing his hands on your hips (probably a little lower than they needed to be).
You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s so not what’s going on. I was thinking about you, you bumbling idiot.”
George smirked. “All good things, I hope.”
“Not bad things, it’s just…” You paused before blurting out, “Why the Hell did you ask me here?”
George let go of your hips and took a step back, startled by your words. “Damn, if you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to say yes.”
God, you really needed to stop being so blunt. Everything always came out completely wrong. You were a kind person, really, but your words got the best of you sometimes. You took a mental note to work on that.
“No, not like that. Come back here, I don’t bite.” You motioned him back over.
“You sound like it sometimes.” George joked before poking your side playfully.
“You’re probably totally into that anyway.” You laughed. You joked with George often, more than anyone else (well, except for Fred), so you expected him to throw a quip back at you in no time. However, to your surprise, he just stared at you, his face almost as red as his hair. He normally didn’t get embarrassed over this sort of thing, so you reckoned what you had just said held some truth to it. You hugged him, placing your face towards his chest so that he couldn’t see you bite your lip at the revelation.
“So,” You began, once George’s complexion went back to its natural coloring. “Why exactly are you babysitting me tonight?”
George seemed puzzled by your words. “I’m not? You’re my date, I think it’d be a little bit weird if I saw you as someone to be babysat.”
“Well yeah, I didn’t mean it literally. It’s just, you could take your pick of girls, you know that?” You fidgeted with the ring Alicia had bought you for your birthday, suddenly feeling nervous.
“Well what if you are my pick? Ever thought of that?” George’s tongue ran over his lip. It was just a nervous habit, he didn’t mean to do it, but it was known to drive girls crazy. And you certainly weren’t immune.
“George, don’t joke like that. It’s not funny.” You hit his shoulder lightly to show him that while you weren’t mad at him, you were being serious.
George looked at your stern face and laughed so hard he had to catch his breath when he finished. You noticed several other couples staring at you two, which embarrassed you to no end. A part of you wanted to kiss him, he was so cute when he laughed, after all. But the other part, the one that wanted to scowl at him, won out.
“George…” You warned. One more stunt like that and you were going back to your room. It didn’t matter to you that he was your best friend or that he was utterly adorable, you were not going to let him embarrass you at such a formal event.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just that I didn’t know they let idiots become prefects.” George coughed into his arm at the end of his sentiment, which quickly became another bout of laughter.
“Mate, it’s not good date etiquette to call your partner an idiot.” You mocked him. You were trying to keep it lighthearted, but you were pretty pissed that you had started insulting you completely unprovoked.
“I know, it’s just that you make it so easy. George reached for your hand, which you hesitantly gave him, and began slowly dancing with you again.
“Gee thanks.” You stuck your tongue out at him.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” You made a face at him when he said this, which caused him to grin and add, “Yeah, like that! Your nose scrunches up like this.” He tried his best to imitate you, which earned a hearty laugh from you.
“Well, you certainly know how to push my buttons, if that’s your goal.”
George eyed you up and down before leaning in and whispering, “You have no idea, if only you’d let me.”
Now it was your turn to feel heat rising up to your face. You were about to warn him for the last time that he needed to stop making those jokes when you heard Professor McGonagall shriek, “Mr. Weasley, Ms. Johnson, just what do you think you are doing?”
Both you and George looked over to see what she was freaking out over. Angelina was dancing all up on Fred, practically grinding on him. What were they thinking? This was supposed to be a formal dance, but you didn’t expect much more from Fred. Or Angelina, when you really thought about it.
“Enjoying the show?” Fred yelled out at the crowd before being pulled away by McGonagall.
You and George just about doubled over laughing.
“God, he is something else.” You giggled.
“Are you okay?” You were surprised by his serious tone. Hadn’t he just seen what you saw? It wasn’t exactly a serious scene.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You questioned.
“It’s just, I know you liked him.” George looked everywhere but at you.
“Oh no, I don’t care. It’s not like I was in love with him or anything,” You laughed at the thought. “Everyone has their time with Fred. Mine was bound to come sooner or later. Just happened that he strung me along longer than most. He seems to like Angelina, though. I’m happy for them.” You tried to be as honest as possible, hoping that he would hear what he wanted and meet your gaze.
“ ‘Everyone has their time with Fred’. Blimey woman, you make him seem like the OWLS.” George was clearly trying to make a joke yet his jaw seemed tense and he still wouldn’t meet his eyes with yours.
“Haha well, I suppose I will feel relief when the OWLS are over in the same way I feel relief that everything is over and done with him.” You made one last ditch effort to bring the conversation back to a normal tone.
“I told him not to mess with you, but he just can’t control himself.” You noticed that George had clenched his fists. He shouldn’t be so upset, it’s not like Fred broke you or anything. You took his hands and guided them back to your hips. You didn’t like seeing George upset. He was normally a very mellow guy, so it was always concerning to see him displaying even the slightest bit of anger
“Hey, it’s no big deal. Why are you so upset? I’m over it, he’s over it-” You tried to get your point across, but were quickly cut off by George.
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re his best friend? Who plays fuckboy with their best friend? He could have really hurt you.” George’s brows furrowed as he replayed the events of what happened between you and Fred in his head. He seemed genuinely upset about it. You hadn’t known that George felt this way. Sure, the two boys had gotten in a few fights over it but all those arguments made sense in the moment. It was strange to you that George still cared this much, even the situation was over.
“He didn’t, okay? Thank you for looking out for me, but we’re all good.” You tried to reassure him, but it didn’t seem to work.
“You really are dense. And they say you’re the smartest in our year.”
“George, you’re an ass. What the Hell are you going on about?” You asked before he twirled you around and subsequently dipped you. He hesitated before pulling you back up, leaving you wondering if he was going to drop you and leave you there. You didn’t think he’d do something like that, but something was going on with him tonight.
“I asked him not to mess with you,” George explained, “Because I fancy you.”
“George, I keep telling you that that’s not funny.” You sighed, exasperated.
“It’s not meant to be. If you aren’t into me, you can just say that instead of acting like I’m cracking a joke.” George grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes, demanding a proper response.
You were flustered beyond belief. His gaze stung, in a way. It was so serious, so unlike George.
“I do fancy you, I just thought this was another one of your silly pranks.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think over them. You clamped your hand over your mouth when you realized what you admitted to, not even having admitted that fact to yourself, at least consciously.
“Wicked.” George smiled widely. You could tell a huge weight had been lifted off your chest. “Since you fancy me so much, can I kiss you?” George leaned in, back to his cocky self.
“You were the one who fancied me so much that you couldn’t behave, Weasley.” You smirked, letting him squirm in his position for a moment before kissing him.
It wasn’t the most sensual kiss you’d ever had but it was far more perfect than a kiss like that would ever be. It was giggly and sweet. You smiled against each other in between of more kisses. You never noticed how much like home he felt.
“Oi, I asked to kiss you. How else are you supposed to know that I’m in charge?” George scrunched up his face and pretended to be cross with you.
“I could think of a few ways. Butttttt until then, you could always kiss me now. There’s not a limit, you know”. You stood on your tiptoes to try to brush your forehead against you, but he still was too tall for you.
George leaned down to kiss you again but before he could do so, Lee Jordan interrupted you two.
“Oooooo, go Georgie. Finally confessed your feelings. Now Fred won’t be the only one getting pu-”
“Fuck off, Jordan.” he shoved Lee playfully. Lee lingered a second too long, much to the two of yours dismay. “Go on, now. Shoo! Angelina’s by herself now that Fred’s gotten himself in trouble, why don’t you go bother her?” George shook his head as Lee gingerly slinked away.
“So did everyone know that you fancied me except myself?” You asked. You figured that this was a big secret, nothing that George had ever said indicated that he liked you, at least in your mind.
“Pretty much. You wanna get out of here?” He squeezed your hand and began guiding you away from the Ball. You allowed him, figuring that you knew where you two were going.
You two raced all the way to the Gryffindor common room, giggling the whole time. You could definitely get used to this. George ultimately won, you tripping over your gown at the last minute.
“Oi, be careful!” George reached his arm out to help you up.
“Easier said than done.” You took George’s hand with one arm and used the other one to feel your back, which had just taken a massive blow when it hit the floor. Since when did the floors become so damn hard?
“Do I have to carry you or what?” George teased. Once again, you felt heat rise up to your cheeks. He was getting way too good at getting you flustered, the bastard.
You didn’t want him to know exactly how much of a rise he was getting out of you, so you ignored his words and started speed walking the rest of the short walk to the Gryffindor common room, not looking back at him. He trailed after you, trying to crack any and every joke he could think of in order to get you to look back at him. Entering the common room didn’t take too long, the Fat Lady didn’t give you too much of a hard time. So there you two stood for a moment, alone in the room, fidgeting awkwardly and stealing glances at one another.</p>
“So…” You two said in unison. You both laughed, causing the tension to be broken.
“What’d you bring me up here to do with you, then?” You asked bluntly. It was only natural that you expected him to ask for instant gratification after revealing his feelings to you, that’s how guys had treated you in the past. You didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to guys you had been involved with, and you weren’t quite aware of exactly how unhealthy some of the treatment had been.
“What? No, I-” George sputtered, at a loss for words. “I just wanted to talk.”
“All the way up here in the common room?
“Yeah, it was sort of loud down there.” George looked down at his feet. It was a rare moment for him to feel so awkward, but you’d somehow gotten him into that position.
“You’re adorable.” You told him as you kissed his cheek.
“I thought I was an ass?” George kidded, pulling you in for a proper kiss. It lasted longer than the ones before and felt a bit rougher, now that you were away from prying eyes.
“Well that too.” A smile creeped across your face that didn’t seem to want to fade.
“So tonight didn’t turn out the way you thought it would, then?”
“Way better. I thought I’d get drunk and hook up with some rando in the hall.” You laughed, thinking over how terrible of a scene that would be.
“You weren’t ever the best decision maker were you?” George joined you in your laughter. His hand found yours once again and you felt your heart flutter. You never wanted him to let go.
“Does that make you one of those decisions?” You already knew the answer to that, of course, but you felt the need to tease George anyway.
“I should hope not.” George hummed.
“I don’t think so. I’m starting to think I’ve been a fool, really, and it’s been you all along. It just took me a while to get here.” You felt very vulnerable, put on display almost, being so honest with not only him, but yourself.
“Ah well, it doesn’t matter what’s happened before, only that you’re here now.” George reassured you. It was hard for you to focus on his words, however, because his eyes didn’t leave you, staring shamelessly, as if he was trying to memorize all your features in that moment.
“What’re you staring for?”
“You’re just beautiful, is all. Do you wanna dance up here? Think it’d be more romantic away from the crowds, anyway.” He was blushing again and it was absolutely adorable. How could you ever say no to him?
“I’d love to.”
#george weasley#george wealsey x reader#fred weasley#harry potter#harry potter fic#hp#hp fanfic#fluff
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winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?
29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.
(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)
Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.
“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.
“Sure, what’re lookin for?”
“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”
“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.
“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”
Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”
“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.
“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.
“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”
“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”
“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”
Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.
“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”
“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.
“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”
Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.
“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”
“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”
“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.
Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.
He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.
Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”
“What would help?”
“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”
“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”
“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.
“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”
It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.
“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.
“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”
“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.
“No talk radio.”
“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.
“Is your name really Duck?”
He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.
“It’s a nickname.”
“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”
“Would it help if you weren’t?”
“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”
“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”
“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.
They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.
The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.
Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.
“Is this alright?”
“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.
They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.
“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.
Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.
“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”
A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”
“Yeah?”
“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.
“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”
“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”
Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.
“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”
“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.
“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”
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I’ve always assumed with Nick and Harry that part of the problem is related to Harry’s silence on everything. As you said, Nick has become much more vocal and clearly comfortable since being in a relationship with Mesh. I’m sure you’ve experienced the frustration when you’re friends with somebody who won’t stand up for the people you love, especially when they have the power to make real change.
When you look at Nick’s friend group there are far more working-class people, people of colour, and generally a more diverse group compared to Harry, whose closest friends are predominantly wealthy, privately educated white people. I mean I love Emma Corrin, but she is the stereotypical privately educated girl. Same as Ben Winston, Jeff, even Harris. That doesn’t take away from their achievements, but it’s very relevant to anyone with careers in the arts.
I can imagine for Nick it became tiring to be friends with somebody who won’t stick up for you and your loved ones, who spends most of his time away, and on some level became too dominant in his own career (the dialogue with the girls outside the studio on his last day, funny, but also would be incredibly annoying I’m sure).
Nick seems like a genuine guy, whose really becoming more comfortable with himself and his voice, and seems to value the people around him, as we see through his friendships that have all lasted years and years.
Oh anon - I agree about the last point - I think the fact that Nick's got all these long lasting friendships that he really values is an important point in understanding what's going on between Nick and Harry.
But the rest I disagree with quite fundamentally and in two distinct ways.
The first is that I think you have answered the question 'who are Harry and Nick's friend group' in order to fit with your beliefs, rather than the other way round.
We don't know who Harry's friend group is, or if he has one. There is absolutely zero evidence that he's friends with Harris Reed (all the evidence we have of a relationship is that Harry is a client of Harris's). We're also no idea if Harry is close enough with Emma Corrin (who I personally would not call a girl) to know if she's part of a friend group. But if those two are, then so are Harry L and Antonio - who come from a different background. I've no idea if Harry L. and Harry are friends, but I think it shows how selective you are.
I also think your characterisation of Nick's friends is pretty selective. We do know who Nick's friend group is - and it involves quite a few people with famous surnames.
I think one of the weakness of fandom analysis is about perspective. Often when people say 'I think X person is mad at Y, because of Z', what they mean is I'm mad at Y, because of Z. We saw that in the bizzarre fandom assumptions that other DWD actors didn't like Harry and Olivia's relationship.
I don't think that whatever is going on between Nick and Harry will have much to do with what fans see and respond to about Nick and Harry.
My guess about this ask if that you don't like various things about Harry and are projecting them on to Nick. And I disagree with the assumptions you are making.
I don't think there's any reason to think that Harry didn't stick up for Nick or his loved ones.
I fundamentally disagree that Harry has 'power to make real change'. I think overstating the power of visibility is really common in our society, and is also super dangerous. It understates the importance of collective power for real change, and it also gives great cover to the people who are exercising real power.
I think the idea that what's going on between Nick and Harry corresponds to things that fans see and are bothered about, fundamentally fails to allow them space to have messy lives and feelings.
#Oh anon#there was just so much here I disagreeed with#but I can't get over the idea that Harry has the power to make real change#get a better theory of change!
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mickames ship notes
I just need to put this somewhere so I can stop turning it over in my head. This is me thinking out loud so it does end up long but I also want a place to put this so I can reference it whenever I write more for them in the future. (Keep in mind this is just the version of James I see; others might have a different view on him and that’s okay!)
At a glance, James and Mickey shouldn’t work. They’re complete opposites, he enjoys the spotlight, thrives when getting attention, is vain and self-centered and doesn’t hesitate to put his wants and needs first. She prefers the background, doesn’t like too much attention, and thinks about others and their needs more than her own. But that’s what makes them work as well, they fill each other’s gaps.
James teaches her that, sometimes, it’s best to put yourself first and to go after what you want and need; there’s nothing wrong with making yourself a priority. She can take up space and demand respect and she won’t burst into flames for it. Mickey teaches him that, sometimes, you learn more about those you care about and the world by sitting back, observing, and letting others take the spotlight every once in a while; that being more empathetic and less self absorbed also serves you in a fulfilling way.
They meet at the Palm Woods (if I were to stick this anywhere in canon, it’d be near the tail end of season 2 I think. BTQuads would replace BTGirl Group. This is after retconning and fixing some things in BTQ considering I wrote that 11 years ago; if I rewrote it now I’d do it a little differently. Or maybe it would be somewhere near the beginning of the season as it’s own “episode”. I’m still figuring this out.) He flirts and she resists which comes across as him being a nuisance and her being a doormat; she doesn’t indulge but she doesn’t stop it either (hello?? a cute guy flirting and noticing her? she wasn’t going to let that go right away, even if she is being selfish about it and leading him on to a degree). And since he doesn’t have a stop sign in his face, he keeps toeing the line. Yeah, there are other girls he could be trying to win their favor, and he could do so easily, but there’s something about her not falling for it that makes him try harder.
She’s not perfect. She starts off with a very biased/judgy way of thinking of him: he’s nothing more than a pretty face, a good voice, and a skirt chaser. So the moments he is a nice, sweet, and thoughtful guy she brushes off like it’s a fluke. It takes her friends pointing out to her she’s kind of being a bitch to see how she acts towards him, first taking more offense to the accusation than the what they’re actually saying. She is justified, however, because the only time he talks to her, really, is when he’s hitting on her. She allows it to continue because she has a hard time saying no and, honestly from the beginning, she thinks it’s a joke. Because why would someone so out of her league be into her? Plus, it’s not like it will last. But it does. Eventually she reaches her wits end and tears him a new one, basically stating that he knows nothing about her and he needs to knock it off.
It works and he backs off. At first he changes out of spite. (You say I know nothing about you? Fine! I’ll learn everything I can and show you that I do! So there!) He sits back and he watches her rituals and habits and he listens, learning about her likes and dislikes. He even keeps a list of them; much like his James’ Things to Do B-4 20 List. Only this one is filled with her hobbies and interests and disinterest and the smallest thing he could think of that involves her opinion. Through keeping the list he really does end up learning more about her and having more things to talk to her about where they, eventually (and with Carlos as a tether), become friends and he sees her as a person and not a prize to be won.
It also helps with their paths crossing a lot due to being part of his backing band and going along with the schemes he and his friends get themselves involved in on a daily basis. Her loving hockey always wins her points in his book (though she prefers to watch rather than play.) They can hang out and chill and talk to each other without expecting something out of it. (And he flirts sometimes, he can’t just turn it off, but that doesn’t make his comments about liking her hair or her looking gorgeous in a dress any less honest.) At that point it’s just James being James and who was she to make him change? He takes her as she is, quiet, hesitant, shy, over-thinker and all, she can take him for all his faults too.
It’s that line of thought which brings them to the point where they eventually feel safe with one another to open up and be vulnerable about their insecurities, which end up being similar in sentiment: they both want someone to put them first. James doesn’t have the best relationships with his parents, his mom was absent emotionally and his dad splits his time chasing after his washed up rockstar dreams and keeping his younger wife happy. They didn’t give him attention so he decided to give it to himself; he pumps himself up, dresses well, overstates his talents (though he can back it up), and makes himself a priority, No one else did so why not himself? But he’s tired and, for once, he wouldn’t mind someone else putting in the effort. Being a quadruplet, Mickey is used to sharing: space, attention, gifts, classes, a birthday, anything and everything. She comes as a set. And while she shies away from unwanted attention, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want things to be about her sometimes. She doesn’t know how to ask for it, instead curling in on herself, falling in line, and boosting others and their wants and needs and dreams thinking, one day, someone will do the same for her. There’s an odd sort of loneliness she feels being a quad and not knowing how to have an outside identity, wanting that attention but not feeling it’s right to want it. So she sits back and goes with the flow; it’s all she’s ever known.
It’s when Mickey sees James as the nice, driven, focused, sweet, funny, loyal, talented, understanding, and accepting guy he is her feelings for him change. She has a hard time grappling with them, not sure if she likes him or the undivided attention he gives her. Also, she has a habit of sabotaging good things for herself (a fact her sisters and aunt Kelly point out a lot). James is out of her league, why would she want to let him in if he’s only going to end up realizing the same thing and move onto the next thing? (On the other end, James thinks she’s out of his league; she’s smart, caring, funny, creative, supportive, selfless, thoughtful, and a badass on the bass.) She blinds herself to the fact that, ever since he met her, he’s never moved on.
Not even when he chased after Lucy. Lucy was a distraction to him not wanting to confront something he doesn’t know how to handle: actual feelings. Lucy always turned him down; he expected it, he knew the outcome, it was easy and safe. He couldn’t get hurt by a friend he wasn’t entirely invested in (I want to be clear here they are friends, unlike the show I have reasons as to why Lucy is friends with them and is involved more than just to be a love interest. My wording is directed that he’s not entirely invested in chasing after her, it being a front and him slipping into what he knows more than anything). He could get hurt by Mickey. She’s his best friend (well one of them, Carlos would hate to be bumped from his best bud ranking) and, if things went wrong, their friendship could get ruined too. He couldn’t risk that.
So they’re wishy-washy, coming closer and backing away at the last minute, admiring one another from afar, pretending their gazes aren’t being held a little too long or their smiles shine a little brighter in one another’s company. James is on uneven ground for the first time in his life; he always knows the right thing to say, never gets nervous, and can hold his own but Mickey can bowl him over. And while it sends him spiraling he also dips his toe into the uncharted waters. Eventually he gets fed up with her going back and forth and lays it all on the line, letting his feelings out, very plainly, and puts the ball in her court. Maybe she actually likes him, maybe she doesn’t. But she does and it takes her a little longer to accept she does, that she’s allowed to have someone who ticks off all her boxes, that she’s allowed to be happy. So she sends a plant to share her feelings instead; words come easier to her on paper than spoken aloud. And he’s shocked at first; while he hoped she felt the same way a larger part of him had convinced himself he was chasing after a lost cause. But they’re finally on the same page and he doesn’t want to mess it up.
In fact, he tries a little too hard to be the perfect boyfriend. Overeager as he his, he pulls out her chairs only for her to fall flat to the ground when he does so too hard, he spills drinks he bought on her, he tries to make her cookies only for them to be rock-solid hockey pucks that nearly break her teeth (he probably should have learned baking soda can’t be substituted with actual soda), he tries to hold open the door for her only to hit her in the face, he tries to buy her flowers only to wind up being allergic to them. It’s his first real relationship (the three days with Selana don’t count), he has to be the best at it. He’s always the best. To save herself form more bodily harm, Mickey ends up snapping him out of it and they both realize they’re scared of what it means to be with someone else and be in a relationship (it’s her first relationship too) and be committed so they agree that it would be easier to be scared together.
As eager as James is, he lets Mickey take the lead. So she’s the one to kiss him first, she’s the one to initiate holding hands and hugging and cuddling, she’s usually the first to lean into him if she needs grounding or reassurance; forehead touching and nuzzling are her go-tos. If it were up to him he’d pack on the PDA any chance he could get; she’d rather keep the bigger displays behind closed doors.
They view their separate loves, music and cooking, similarly: the end result, the way music or food brings people together and makes memories that last and touches people, as a driving force in putting their all into their craft. Even if being a rockstar wasn’t her dream and even if he doesn’t cook, they understand that feeling of supplying for others and being an escape.
Their relationship isn’t free from its bumps. James is more open with his words and intentions so he communicates well but Mickey is more guarded on that front; she tends to put forth her effort into her actions and showing how she cares so he is taken care of. Sometimes he takes advantage of it but he learns fast to tell her how much he appreciate her while she learns to verbally communicate her feelings better. Sometimes she doesn’t mind he’s self-absorbed, he can talk about himself all he wants while she can sit back and listen. But there are other moments she wants to pull her hair out because it wouldn’t kill him to ask her how she’s doing. Sometimes he wants her to be more firm, to be confident and make a choice rather than let others take the lead for her; other times he basks in her relying on him to navigate certain situations.
They date for a while, part ways, and then get back together in the future after learning more about themselves and what they want in a partner. In the end, opposites attract hit them hard and, like opposing poles on a magnet, will always bring them back to each other. (Plus, as James points out, Mickey Diamond has a nice rockstar ring to it. Pun intended.)
#mickames#mickey x james#again this is mostly for me but if anyone has any thoughts i wouldn't mind talking about them#glad i can finally dump this from my brain#i may write all this into a fic one day. it'd be a slow burn for sure#big time rush oc#james diamond#mickey mason
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(I had a really long, detailed version of this....... but Tumblr ate it D’: so this is... heavily abridged, sorry!)
Tagged by the ever lovely @castiel-saved-me-from-myself <3
pick 10 ships without reading the questions
Interesting... ok!
1. Dean/Cas (obviously)
2. Aziraphale/Crowley
3. Nygmobblepot
4. Foxma
5. Babitha
6. Amy/Rory
7. Nomi/Amanita
8. Eve/Flynn
9. Catradora
10. Cosima/Delphine
1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?
I think I started shipping Amy/Rory during the Venice fish monster ep - cos that was when I felt Amy really did love him back and they had a future together. Before I suspected that her running away with the Doctor was a sign she and Rory weren’t right for each other.
2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?
Only read a handful of Ineffable fic. Overall I’m perfectly happy with the canon alone.
3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr?
Yes I’ve had Foxma themed phone backgrounds and a tumblr header :)
4. If 7 were to suddenly break-up today, what would your reaction be?
Disbelief and disapproval. Nomi and Amanita were one of the great constants of Sense8 for me. I think a break up would be out of character for them tbh. Plus it would be denying the black and trans characters a rare example of a happy ending, which would suck.
5. Why is 1 so important?
I wrote such a detailed thing about how DeanCas is not only important to me personally but also how I feel it’s been important for TV/media in general... ugh, tumblr!
In a nutshell - this ship helped me better myself in various ways. It introduced me to fandom, which boosted my confidence and independence via increased socialisation; it encouraged me to write more, which improved my writing skills; meta discussions educated me on lots of issues, inc. but not limited to abuse, sexuality, gender identit, autism and racism.
I also genuinely believe that the loud and open fandom support of the ship has been a significant help in the ongoing battle for more and better queer rep in media.
6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?
Serious! Catra and Adora’s relationship is a core part of the whole show, relating to lots of the wider themes of abuse, toxic behaviour, growth and forgiveness. Plus the significance of a same sex romance involving the lead character in a CHILDREN’S CARTOON really cannot be overstated.
(but it is also cute and funny sometimes :p)
7. Out of all of the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?
I’ve spoken before about having issues with the concept of ‘chemistry.’ If I ship characters it’s usually because I find the combination of their characterisation and story arcs interesting/compelling. I often don’t notice (or I guess care about?) chemistry.
So I think I’m not qualified to answer this one.
8. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond?
Agreeing with @castiel-saved-me-from-myself here - you can’t really beat the Ineffables millenia long romance :)
9. How many times have you read/watched 8’s fandom?
I’ve rewatched The Librarians 2 or 3 times now. It’s DAFT. But it’s fun. And Eve and Flynn make me feel warm and fuzzy.
10. Which ship has lasted the longest?
Again, as @castiel-saved-me-from-myself said - it’s gotta be the Ineffables, both within AND outside of the story, since Good Omens was originally published over 30 years ago and the Zira/Crowley shippers have been going strong all that time. Otherwise it’s DeanCas.
(though idk if Catradora was a ship back when the original She Ra cartoon was airing, or when the original cartoon was made, so it’s possible that is also a contender!)
11. How many times, if ever, has 2 broken up?
Lol at @castiel-saved-me-from-myself for getting Nygmob for this one, as their relationship is, like, 90% break up :P
For the Ineffables though it’s basically just the once - when Zira chooses Heaven over Crowley. Not made such a Big Deal in the book IIRC, but in the show it’s the infamous Bandstand Break Up scene.
All other separations are only minor, temporary squabbles imo. Which is what makes the Bandstand scene so PAINFULLY, BEAUTIFULLY, ANGSTY AND EMOTIONAL and why I love it so!
12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?
I figure angels and demons probably can’t be killed by zombies, so the Ineffables are the most likely.
But Eve and Flynn did actually face off against zombie-ghost things in an alt universe during a whole Loom of Fate plot and survived, so I think they’d probably also make it.
13. Did 5 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?
No, Babs and Tabs were always open about being together, even when Tabs was also in a relationship with Butch.
I might argue they hid the depth of their feelings for each other though, even from themselves, and instead made out what they had together was just a casual ‘friends with benefits’ type thing.
Though Tabs did hide things a little when she sent assassins after Jim cos she blamed him for putting Babs in a coma. She clearly knew her brother would disappprove, which is why she didn’t tell him what she was doing. I guess that kinda counts as hiding her relationship with Babs? She was trying to conceal how much Babs mattered to her?
14. Is 4 still together?
Lol, Foxma were never together (ALAS!). But the show did end with their lingering fondness for each other intact I think.
15. Is 3 canon?
Is Nygmobblepot canon? Rather a touchy question for the fandom tbh.
If we are talking EXPLICIT canon - then no.
They never got a kiss or a MUTUAL love declaration (and they had a controversial ‘we’re brothers’ exchange in the penultimate episode) - ergo there is not enough, imo, to say they ended the show officially romantically involved.
However, Ozzie DID EXPLICITLY DECLARE HIS ROMANTIC LOVE for Ed, and that was never rescinded. There is also LOTS OF SUBTEXT floating around Ed to imply he reciprocates. Plus they did end the show together as clear Partners in Crime.
So is Nygmob subtextual canon?
I would say yes.
But explicit, CANON canon?
A frustrating no that fandom remains, understandably, critical about.
16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?
I think a toss up between Nygmob and Babitha - because everyone else has too many morals that would hold them back from killing :p
(and since Ed and Oz have both bested Babs and Tabs in the past I lean towards them... but it would depend on when in Gotham canon the games were happening!)
17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 10’s ship?
Breaking up Cosima and Delphine was a LITERAL PLOT POINT of Orphan Black at one point, so very much yes! I forget the details (the show got very twisty, with lots of different organisations working on different agendas in the shadows), but I’m pretty sure Delphine was shot because she was protecting Cosima. I remember it BROKE MY HEART and I thought it was a casebook example of Bury Your Gays. But, spoiler: it wasn’t ;)
18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?
Going with DeanCas, because I think that, historically, it’s the one that’s been in most need of defending.
19. Do you spend hours a day going through 1’s tumblr page?
Not anymore I’m afraid. Though 3 or so years ago I used to spend most of my free time on DeanCas and spn meta. Ah, nostalgia.
20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she´d break them all forever, which ship would you sink?
Foxma. Because while I adore the idea of a messy, confused ~something between them, in my heart I know that Foxy deserves better :P
I was too tired to bother with tagging the first time I completed this - DEF not gonna bother now!
Play if you want - it’s fun :D
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The Hinata/Kamukura Files - The Survivors
Written for @the-hinata-project
Day 7: Birthday
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Notes: Yaaaay, last part! And on the first day of the new year! As I said, this part is split between the survivors. Aaaaaall...six of them. You get a two for one. Isn’t that nice?
***Alternate Ao3 Link***
Commission? Donate?
You’ve probably heard of the fucking guy already. He’s kind of a wreck—but he’s also my blood brother so I have to do all I can for him. Unfortunately, because of the other guy in his head, he’s prone to doing everything all on his fucking own. It’s beyond a hassle to deal with.
Even now, when things should be winding down, he’s mulling over a bunch of stupid shit. The Future Foundation’s plans and movements—even though we’re not exactly associated with those bastards outside of our former underclassmen—and also just the general state of the world. It’s a lot for just a team of people, and that idiot takes it on solo.
Something has to be done about it.
“Everyone in favor say I.”
“I.”
“Besides,” I mutter, adding. “We all know what fucking day it is, right? It’s a day where Hinata especially shouldn’t be working his fucking ass off.”
--
Hinata-san is someone who has done much for us. It cannot be overstated how much he has done. Except, perhaps, that he has done too much. It is almost—unsavory how much more Hinata-san has done compared to what is needed or even asked.
I do understand, however. Hinata-san feels especially shouldered with responsibility due to Kamukura-san, so he’s all the more motivated to act. It is admirable, even if it may be a little worrying as well.
Thus, we are to put a plan into action. Right now, I am going around and relaying this plan to the others. While I, Kuzuryuu-san, Owari-san, and Souda-san are the ones who instigated this, we will need everyone’s help.
It is without hesitation that they agree. After all, they are exceedingly grateful to him as well, even when they lack the confidence to say so outright.
It’s wonderful, isn’t it—the things that Hinata-san and Kamukura-san have accomplished.
“You would be very proud, Nanami-san,” I say to the memorial.
--
My soul friend really likes to overdo it, huh? Even I’m not allowed to get much of an edge in. It’s like he doesn’t see me as reliable at all!
Except, nah, I know Hinata’s way more considerate than that. I still like, flinch and stuff, y’know? At stupid things—because I can’t help at be afraid of what could happen. What has already happened.
Even now, I have nightmares over the things I’ve engineered. The suffering and screaming it’s caused. I wake up screaming, and Hinata’s always there to smack my back and help me through it. He’s not judgmental, although sometimes I wish he was, considering the shit I’ve done. We’ve all done shit, yeah, but—some of my creations are still out there.
And my soul friend’s been working to bring them all home, so to speak.
So, yeah, I may owe the guy more than my life, so it’s without saying that I have to do everything I possibly can to make this work. To help him relax for once.
Even if that other guy still scares the hell out of me sometimes—it’s all my soul friend. I’ll accept every part, no matter how piss-pant terrifying.
--
“Don’t ya think you overdo it?”
“You’re not the only one saying that.” A smile twists at Hinata’s lips but rather than look at me, his eyes are still on files. Just glancing at them gives me a headache. “It’s fine. I can handle it. If not, then Kamukura...”
“Must be booooring, having to do all that work,” I drone, arms folded behind my head with a huff. “I can’t even imagine what it’d be like. Then again, not exactly known for my working ethic, huh?”
Hinata laughs, but I do remember all the times I skated by. What I was willing to put up with and what I wasn’t—how old man Nidai would be both encouraging and scornful over the fact. I press against Hinata’s back, chin digging into his shoulder, and I grip his arms.
“Break. You should take one.”’
Hinata sighed—but it sounds more like that other guy. I don’t relent, even knowing that other guy could toss me off if he so wished. Hell, I’d like to see him try.
“Come on,” I urged, grinning. “Before I get the old man in here to scream at ya. If you follow me, ya won’t regret it. I promise.”
Hinata still hesitates so I yank on his arm with gusto.
“Come on!”
“A-Alright, alright!” he yelped, nearly tumbling out of his seat. “Just don’t dislocate my arm!”
I laugh brightly, victorious. A smile does curl at Hinata’s lips. Warm and fond. I think it’s kinda funny. I’ve seen a lot of men in my life—but not a lot of people who smiled like that.
It’s no wonder we all love him, huh?
--
I already know what they had planned. Even with the blindfold on, it’s obvious. Predictable.
“Go, go, go!” Sonia chants, holding my arm as Souda shoved me along cheerfully.
“Careful, careful!” Kuzuryuu griped as Owari simply laughed.
It’s obvious and predictable—and yet their enthusiasm was clear. They’re all chuckling. It’s like we’re all back in high school—except I’ve never experienced anything like this.
When I’m finally there, my blindfold is yanked off. The poppers go off, a bit out of sync, and of course, there’s the chorus.
“Happy Birthday!!”
The others are clapping. Grinning. Each celebrating in their own way. Mioda strumming, Saionji twirling, Tanaka flourished with hawks, Koizumi snapping pictures, Nidai whooping, Hanamura lighting up the sparklers of the cake—and I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. I don’t feign surprise, I just let the moment sink in.
“Come on, come on!” Sonia exclaims brightly. “It’s supposed to be a party!!”
Pekoyama gives me a soft smile. The imposter pats my shoulder in passing. Tsumiki touches my face, frowning as she does.
“You’re exhausted, Hinata-san.”
“That’s no good,” Komaeda hummed. “Making a girl worry about you, Hinata-kun. Even if you’re capable, everyone needs a break, Kamukura-kun.”
He hands me a slice of the cake. I laugh softly before taking a bite. Every ingredient flicks through my head from the orange to the coconut oil. In that moment, I swallow and it’s—weirdly overwhelming.
“I.” I nearly croak. “Happy new year, everyone. Even to—the people who aren’t here.”
“We did invite Naegi and the others,” Kuzuryuu informed me. “They’re gonna be running late, unfortunately.”
“But we’ll still be celebrating until then! Hanamura can just make more if we all eat it!” Owari exclaimed. “So, don’t hold back!”
“I’ve got a hell of a fireworks machine rigged up for the evening, soul friend,” Souda rambled. “Even Kamukura will be impressed! I’m sure of it!”
I chuckle softly.
“I wonder about that...”
Looking upon everyone’s faces, I feel at ease. We’re all together, all here, at the start of a new year.
What do you think will happen next?
#thehinataproject2019#izuru kamukura#kamukura izuru#hajime hinata#hinata hajime#sdr2 spoilers#fuyuhiko kuzuryuu#sonia nevermind#kazuichi souda#akane owari#Magi fics#I had to edit the last part because I forgot someone#I should be good here#Please be good
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Growing Pains. Part 12a
Cowritten with @disastrousintention. Content warnings for discussion of abuse and drug use.
-x-
A few days after Louis returned to the rehab facility, Katy was transferred elsewhere. Louis found himself beginning to relax and over the next couple of weeks, really began to settle to the point his challenging and often violent behaviour, reduced significantly. Whilst there were still periods of aggression, they were mostly aimed at himself.
It was time for his first proper one to one therapy session. Up til now he'd only taken part in group sessions, though "taking part" was slightly overstating things as he mainly just sat and stared into space. He didn’t know why he was nervous about the idea of therapy, perhaps it was because someone else would know about his thoughts and how messed up they were.
He took a deep breath as he walked into the therapy room.
"Ah, you must be Louis. I'm Amanda." The therapist smiled as she guided him into the room.
“Hi.” He sat down on the chair that was facing the one Amanda had got up from.
"You've been here a few weeks now. How are you finding it?"
“Better than I thought I would, to be honest.”
"What were you expecting?"
He shrugged, “I don’t know really.”
"How are you finding the withdrawal?"
“Tough.”
"Do you feel ready to start exploring the reasons why you are here?"
Louis nodded. “I think so.”
"OK. When did you first start taking drugs?"
“About a year ago.”
"What made you start?"
“My mates were all doing it.”
"OK. Are they also in treatment facilities?"
“No.”
"So what makes you different?"
He sighed, “I started using more stuff because I liked the feeling of complete calm.”
"What was making you not feel calm?"
“Thoughts in my head.”
"Can you tell me about those thoughts?"
Louis hesitated and looked down at the floor.
"Let's make this a little easier. How long have you been having these thoughts?"
“Last few years, intensely anyway.”
"Are they always about the same thing?"
“Yeah.”
"Can you tell me what that thing is?"
“I have thoughts about hurting my stepmum."
"Have you ever acted on those thoughts?"
“Once, when I was younger.”
"What did you do?"
“I tried to put poison in her drink but my sister caught me.”
"Would you have done it if your sister hadn't caught you?"
“I don’t know.” He sighed, “Probably.”
"How old were you at the time?"
“Young.”
"How were you planning to poison her?"
“Bleach in her coffee.”
"Was there a reason you wanted to poison her at that particular time?"
“I don’t think so.”
"So you only want to hurt her? No-one else?"
“Sometimes my sisters but not as much as Duffy.”
"May I ask how she came to be your stepmother? What were the circumstances of the beginning of her relationship with your father?"
“Dad had an affair with her.”
"Which led to the end of his relationship with your mother?"
He nodded.
"Are your sisters her daughters or are they the product of her relationship with your father?"
“A product. There’s also Peter who’s the oldest... and two younger brothers, Oli and Paul.”
"So you're the odd one out?"
“No, there’s Jake too.”
"Do you and Jake share the same parents?" Amanda asked, trying to get as fuller picture of Louis' homelife as she could.
"No he has a different mum and dad."
"OK. So it's just your younger siblings that are the children of both your dad and your stepmother?" Amanda attempted to clarify.
“No, Peter too. He’s the oldest.” Louis laughed gently, “I can tell it’s confusing you.”
"Right... How about you start from the beginning with your family?"
“Where do you want me to start?” Louis asked.
"So am I right in thinking your father and stepmother were together before your father and mother were?"
“Mum and dad were together first. And then split up. Then dad shagged Duffy and they had Peter. Then my mum and dad reunited years later and had me. Then, dad had an affair with Duffy.” He shrugged.
"And their affair resulted in the breakdown of your parents relationship?"
Louis nodded and began to fiddle with his hands.
"And your sisters and younger brothers were born after the breakdown of your parents relationship when your father and stepmother began their relationship more openly?"
He nodded. “Sort of. Emily was conceived during the affair.”
"Emily is your sister?"
Louis nodded.
"Which parent did you live with after the split?"
“My mum.”
"The split must have been very painful for your mum."
“She used to call Duffy a whore, all the time.”
"Duffy is your stepmother?"
He nodded.
"Do you agree with your mother's opinion of her?"
He shook his head and sighed, “It’s complicated...”
"What makes it complicated?"
“Part of me likes her but, I feel I shouldn’t.”
"Why do you feel you shouldn't like her?"
“Because mum always said she was bad. A dirty whore. She was the reason I didn’t have my dad.”
"But you live with your dad now?"
“Mum died when I was younger. Eight years ago.”
"And that's when you came to live with your father, stepmother, sisters and brothers?"
Louis nodded.
"Was it just you and your mother up til that point?"
“Yeah.”
"That must have been quite a change for you."
“It was hard. It was so noisy, I wasn’t used to it. I hated it, been part of something so big.”
"How old were your siblings at the time?"
“When I moved in? It was eight years ago so, they were young too.”
"Was it after your mother's death that you attempted to poison your stepmother?"
Louis nodded his head once again and exhaled, still fiddling with his hands.
"What made you do it? Was there something specific going on with your stepmother at that particular time?"
“She was pregnant.”
"You planned to poison your stepmother whilst she was pregnant?" Amanda couldn't entirely hide the shock at Louis' statement from her tone.
“I didn’t want to hurt her. My thoughts went a bit...” He sighed, “I can’t stop thinking she’s bad.”
"Because she broke up your parents relationship?"
“Because mum said she was a dirty whore who took dad away from us! Away from me.”
Amanda paused for a moment at Louis' outburst.
“But she isn’t.”
"But you feel like you have to believe she is because of a sense of loyalty to your mum?"
“That’s exactly it!”
"But you don't totally believe that your mother was right about your stepmother?"
“She’s not what my mum said she is.” He said the words so quietly.
"What is she like?"
“Really kind and funny. Stubborn though, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of her either.” He smiled brightly as he spoke about Duffy.
"And she and your father have a good relationship?"
He nodded. “They fall out like anyone else but they’re best friends.”
"Can I ask about your relationship with your father?"
“It’s not great. We’re not really close.” He admitted sadly.
"Has it always been that way?"
He shrugged, “Part of me hates him for leaving me.”
"When your parents split up?"
He nodded, “And letting mum take me away.”
"Take you away where?"
“We moved to Canada.”
"Why was that?"
“I don’t know why.”
"Were you in Canada when your mum died?"
“Yeah.”
"And then you moved back to England to live with your father?"
“I did.”
"Did your father and stepmother travel out to Canada to collect you?"
“My dad did. He was there when mum died.” He swallowed.
"Ah, I guess your stepmother had to stay home to look after your younger siblings."
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LIFE IS A CHANGING WORLD
And because you can, because they can thereby get a shot at you before everyone else. Not because it's causing economic inequality, but because the principles underlying the most dynamic part of the reason I laughed so much at the talk by the good speaker at that conference was that everyone else did. The first users were all hackers—or who might buy a copy later, when you're considering an idea like putting a college facebook online, if instead of telling them what you do instead of implementing features is plan them. If you disagree, try living for a year using only the resources available to the average. Any investor who spent significant time deciding probably came close to saying yes.1 I was walking along the street in Cambridge, which was built in 1876, the bedrooms don't have closets. This isn't quite true. Inexperience there doesn't make you unattractive. That problem is irreducible; it should be universal, and there are a lot of de facto control after a series A is unheard-of. And that should be unlimited, if the upside looks good enough.
But more than half done. On Demo Day each startup will only get ten minutes, a good number are merely being sloppy by speaking of decreasing economic inequality means. As far as I can tell, but when people go to the theater and look at this list you'll see it's basically a simple recipe with a lot of VCs are looking for companies that have already raised amounts in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. When a man runs off with his secretary, is it always partly his wife's fault? Preferably with other students. Back when he was looking at the floor.2 And it applies to startups too. When I talk to people who've managed to make themselves rich.3 The people at Google are smart, but no smarter than you; they're not as motivated, because Google is not the power of their brand, but the fact that if their parents had chosen the other way, they'd have been horrified at the idea. And since that's the default opinion of any investor about any startup, they've essentially just told you nothing.4 After thinking about it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, years later. Empirically it seems to consume all your attention.
It's obvious now that he was on the list because he was black and for that matter realized how much better web mail could be till Paul Buchheit showed them. The best thing software can be is easy, but it's worth trying. One place this happens is in startups. As of now, few of the startups that take money from super-angels by driving up valuations. You'd also have a very boring life. The average startup probably doesn't have much to show for itself after ten weeks. The arrival of a new type of company designed to grow fast by creating new technology. Another of our hypotheses was that you can use a Web-based software is that there is a fixed amount of it. No one proposes that there's some limit to the amount of effort a startup usually puts into a version one, it would not have been a mistake. Even if something was going to die till I was about 19. When you release only one new version a year, in January and June.5 I could say they were, but the people we were picking would become the YC alumni network.
There are no meetings or, God forbid, corporate retreats or team-building exercises. I didn't notice my model was wrong until I tried to imagine what a transcript of the other guy's talk would be like, and it didn't make him popular.6 Not intelligence—determination.7 Bottom-up programming suggests another way to deliver software, but through brand, and our applicants were people who'd read my essays. Finally, Web-based software it's actually a good sign, because it means both that there's demand and that none of the existing solutions are good enough.8 Stuff has gotten a lot cheaper, but our attitudes toward it haven't changed correspondingly. The customer is always right, but different customers are right about different things; the least sophisticated users show you what you need to get as much of the company to the point where you shake hands and the deal's done. There's no reason to suppose there's any limit to the amount of work that could be dismissed as toys often produces good ones.
Among other things, incubators usually make you work in their office—that's where the word incubator comes from.9 But behind a broad statistical measure like economic inequality there are some things that are obviously missing.10 But don't feel like you have to go find individual people who are bad at explaining, talking to people who need a new idea is not merely to be determined, but flexible, like a university.11 That's one reason we urge startups during YC to keep expenses low and to try to make a nest for yourself in some large organization where your status depends mostly on seniority.12 Which is why it's good to have the upper hand over investors.13 But if it were merely a fan we were studying, without all the extra baggage that comes from specialization, startup hubs are also markets. The toolmakers would have users, but also as a match for his skills. The great fortunes of that time still derived more from what we would now call corruption than from commerce.14 They're the ones that matter anyway. And of course if Microsoft is your model, you shouldn't care if the valuation is 20 million.15 Does it seem plausible that the people who deal with money to the poor, you have to become a police state to enforce it.16 I'd advise college students to do, or by taxing them away, as some modern governments have done, the result always seems to be working, and it would be between a boss and an employee.
Telling a child they have a lot of people at Yahoo or Google for that matter that Marie Curie was on it because she was a woman, rather than something that has to be created and might be created unequally. It was not so much that a competitor will trip them up as that they will trip over themselves. Not well, perhaps, but well enough.17 Of course, server-based. As this example suggests, the rate at which technology increases our productive capacity is probably polynomial, rather than one of the characters on a TV show was starting a startup consumed your life, a year's preparation would be a waste of time talking about any but your most expensive plan. The people who really care will find what they want by themselves. Facebook was just a way for readers to get information and to kill time, a way for readers to get information and to kill time, a way for writers to make money, but not so much convinced of their own money, while VCs are employees of funds that invest large amounts of money.18
Notes
Founders rightly dislike the sort of community.
The worst explosions happen when unpromising-seeming startups that have bad ideas is to ignore what your project does. Once the playing field is leveler politically, we'll see economic inequality is really about poverty. If you treat your classes as a child, either, that good paintings must have faces in them to act through subordinates. Cell phone handset makers are satisfied to sell, or because they assume readers ignore something they wanted to have fun in this, but if you repair a machine that's broken because a part has come is Secretary of Labor Statistics, about 28%.
I used to place orders.
In fairness, I mean type I. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve the problem, but those don't involve a lot of money from it, whether you find known boring ideas intolerable. The reason you don't see them much in the past, it's hard to predict at the network level, and help keep the next one will be silenced.
Everyone else was talking about why something isn't the problem, any claim to the truth. Many more than you expect. N cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that the usual misquotation is closer to a 2002 report by the fact that it might help to be good.
But startups are now.
Its retail price is about 220,000 legitimate emails.
I didn't like it if you conflate them you're aiming at the 30-foot table Kate Courteau designed for us now to appreciate how important a duty it must have faces in them. It requires the kind that prevents you from starving. When I use the name of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. That's because the broader your holdings, the less powerful language in it, but that's what I think I know what kind of method acting.
Though in a wide variety of situations. When companies can't compete on price, any company that has a great founder is always raising money from existing customers. Maybe it would be just as he or she would be to say for sure whether, e.
If they agreed among themselves never to do it.
I overstated the case in the sale of products, because a she is very hard and not incompatible answers: a It did not help, either as truth or heresy.
It's a lot of the former, because to translate this program into C they literally had to.
It seemed better to make more money. I encountered when we say it's ipso facto right to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to represent anything. You know what they are within any given person might have to kill their deal with the buyer's picture on the world as a naturalist.
You know what they too were feeling in 1914.
We didn't swing for the next round. Apparently someone believed you have two choices, choose the harder. Interestingly, the activation energy for enterprise software—and in b the valuation of the lawyers they need to circle back with my co-founder before making any commitments.
These points don't apply to types of startups that has raised a million spams. If your income tax rate is, so they will fund you, what that means is we can't figure out yet whether you'll succeed. I still shiver to recall.
Hint: the editor in Lisp. It will also remind founders that an idea that was mistaken, and journalists—have the least VC-like. However bad your classes as a single cause. The real problem is the new economy during the entire period from the Ordinatio of Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p.
When Google adopted Don't be fooled. The hackers within Microsoft must know in the mid 20th century. And if you hadn't written it?
#automatically generated text#Markov chains#Paul Graham#Python#Patrick Mooney#valuation#Stuff#income#lot#Cell#part#average#type#phone#mid#brand#people#list#police#startups#program#subordinates#sort#toys#li#investor#sale#amounts#jolt#sup
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I guess Taron had it in his contract that they should show his face as much as possible because Robin is really bad at keeping his desguise on. He looks really good tho so I don't mind it :) -Robin
I did a gifset of him trying to cover his face because his scarf falls off so often 😂 To be fair, it is only a scarf, it makes sense that it would fall with some exertion, but also I love how he’s too attached to it because it’s John’s son’s to get a better one.
Robin's stubble has me signing up for the next crusades, ooooh, mama, have mercy on my soul -Robin
The stubble is a thing of beauty.
When the bad guys explain all their plans it makes me cringe a bit. But Taron's acting always makes up for everything bad in this movie. How is he this powerful? I wonder. He must have one giant flaw that we can't see or the universe very unfair -Robin
Bahaha agreed, that was so stupid. I mean I can kinda see that the dude wanted to include Robin since the Sherriff clearly trusted him, but also... nah. It’s like in Kingsman 1 when the very self-aware bad guy says this is the part of the movie where he’s supposed to explain his whole evil plan. Clearly the RH screenwriters didn’t get the memo that that’s not a clever way to do it.
"Then I'll show you my face" Well, thank you. I feel blessed. He is so beautiful, Did I ever mention that before? -Robin
It cannot possibly be overstated. He is the most beautiful.
Blue looks good on Robin. Green looks good on Robin. Black looks good on Robin. White looks good on Robin. -Robin
Everything and nothing looks good on Robin.
Taron has chemistry with literally everyone. The smile when he holds Marian's hand is so pretty. He loves her (on another note, you can see Taron's missing tooth, I'm loving it) -Robin
Honestly, he could stare at a wall for 2 minutes and my heart would be racing because of the chemistry. Sidenote: is it a missing tooth? I’ve often wondered what the gap is.
Oh, shoot. He took an arrow for her D: -Robin
The writers pulled out all the stops making him a selfless, wonderful dude, like they didn’t skip anything.
"We don't have to do this. I'm not going to kill you" He's the better man. Wait... going back for his ex girlfriend's boyfriend? He's the best man wow -Robin
Exhibit B on the ‘selfless, wonderful dude’ examples. He’s perfect. I think he really respected Will for how he stood up for the people so I get it. And also deciding not to kill Gisborne, especially after he had shot him in the desert... yeah. Exhibit C.
Taron's acting as Robin panics watching the fight around him. He is so good, so good! He needs to get himself a rol in a war movie asap. He's good with stunts and fighting and acting in general -Robin
Honestly. That PTSD was so real. His eyes just... man.
The movie is over and it's not as bad as everyone says it is. Robin is great. The sound of the arrows and the clothing are... choices. I can see why Taron wanted to be part of this project, he probably thought it would turn out differently. I mean, we're talking about a man who trained so he could actually use a bow and arrow for this movie. I would watch more stories about Robin told by different screenwriters and another director. Taron's Robin is charming, strong and loving. I like him.-Robin
That’s definitely what I think. No, it’s not the epic, conversation-starting political drama that they wanted it to be, but it’s a fun ride with some surprisingly good moments and a very character-driven story, and Taron plays Robin’s innocence and, on the flip-side, his lost, lifeless lack of desire to stay alive so convincingly. I really would love to see a sequel if, as you say, it was in better hands. However the world they’ve created will be the world they continue in so the clothes and various choices would probably remain, but I want it to be handled better. Oh well. I’d watch more Robin any day. I freaking love that charming, strong and loving boy ❤
Now in case you haven’t seen it yet, the outtakes and deleted scenes are fun to watch!
1. I really enjoyed watching Robin flirt. He's 👌. I'm still thinking about that whisper at the beginning of the movie. 2. I'm a big fan of modern war movies so I'd pay good money to watch a movie where Taron plays a soldier, please. 3. Overall, I enjoyed the movie for Taron and what it could've been. Robin has a place in my heart now, he is great, he could've been greater with a better script. I will remember him. Thanks for sharing this with me. I'll be back, Robin.
Enjoying the movie for what it could have been is an excellent form of enjoyment, it’s how I watch it. I see the potential and I can easily forgive what makes it weird and cringey because I love the vision the writers had originally. There’s a really good story under the iffy decisions.
I’m so glad you watched and enjoyed it and that Robin has a place in your heart, right where he deserves to be ❤
#Tracy's thoughts#Ask#Anonymous#Robin Hood#It's so lovely to chat about the movie without the negativity it normally gets#Sure it deserves some criticism but it's also enjoyable and I love it so thank you 'Robin'#You made my day
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Cinnamon
Art by: @jell-obeans
Author: @theonceoverthinker
Summary: What starts out as a simple apple picking trip for Emma Swan takes an unexpected twist when she discovers that the nice connection she’s finding between herself and the farm’s owner Killian Jones might be something more profound and, for Emma, terrifying than she bargained for. Emma then finds herself on a journey that pulls her between her own insecurities, her growing feelings for Killian, and the very will of Mother Nature itself. Can Killian truly be the apple of her eye or will the worms of Emma’s past keep her from taking that first bite?
Rating: G (Nothing of an equivalence to a trigger)
A/N: I want to give a couple of shoutouts.
First, to my beta, @lassluna. I can’t even begin to tell you what your tireless work on this story meant to me. Whenever I needed you, you were on our Google Doc ready to work. You’re an amazing beta – catching things before I could all the time. You were incredibly supportive and I felt that you were always working with me because you believed in my story and my writing. And your help with the story itself can’t be overstated. Honestly, there were times where I didn’t think I could finish this story, but knowing that I was doing it for you kept me going. Working with you was a privilege and I hope it was even a tenth of that for you.
Second, to my artist, @jell-obeans. Not only did you take on making me a piece at the last second, but you completely captured the tone I was going for. Your artwork presents a relaxed and casual sense of intimacy between Emma and Killian, and that’s exactly what I wanted my piece to offer for my readers. There’s a nice use of earthy autumn colors and the setting of the artwork gives off a nice sense of closeness. Finally, that Monopoly board and the tea box give a great sense of detail that I just love. It’s freakin’ gorgeous and I can’t thank you enough for all of your hard work.
Finally, a note to my readers. Thank you for taking the time to read this piece. When someone puts together a work and takes the time to painstakingly make sure that it delivers an experience that’s in its own way original, entertaining, and personal, it’s such a cool thing when that work is actually seen. So trust when I express my appreciation to you for giving me that, and I hope that “Cinnamon” can delight and warm your soul in return.
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Upstate New York was truly something to see.
Around every corner Emma turned, she saw acres and acres of trees that cascaded along the landscape like snow piled onto a mountain. Every single one of those trees had the warm colors of autumn, and on their own, they’d be beautiful enough – Emma had certainly seen plenty of them on their own – but together, they melded and practically terraformed the steep inclines they rested on into a place she wouldn’t have minded getting lost in one day.
It was her first time to this part of the country. She’d been to New York, but it was always to the city on a job. This may has well have been a different state. Whereas New York City was an urban jungle – not without its greenery, but mostly sectioned-off greenery – Hudson was a dense forest with towns and road in the spaces between it. It moved alongside the land, and that made for a more difficult, but also more beautiful drive.
But among all the beautiful aspects of the countryside, again, none stood out more that those trees.
That’s actually what had brought her up here today.
Her friend Regina had bought the apples that contained the seeds of what would become a magnificent tree that was so very similar to those now on the other side of Emma’s window many years ago. Regina had always wanted a big apple tree in her yard, and she told Emma that when she first tasted the fruit of this one particular apple only available at this one particular farm, she knew it had to be that one. After trying one of the apples from the bags Regina had brought home, Emma had to agree.
Regina spent months trying to plant it before finally consulting a gardener – one Robin Locksley. Together – by Regina’s insistence together – they worked the land. As they worked, Regina began to swear to Emma that she was smelling marigolds all day long. She’d joke about him probably keeping seeds in his pockets.
It didn’t take long afterwards to realize what had happened. Regina had to ask Robin to be sure, but indeed, Robin’s favorite scent was those of marigolds.
When it came to the matter of the heart, everyone knew what it meant when you smelled someone’s favorite scent whenever you were in their presence. The world they lived in was by no means magical, but this was one truth that persisted throughout time that science could grant no other explanation. At the dawn of this realization, first recorded in journals from the Renaissance, the concept was thought to be a myth, but it was granted solidification as a fact through time and repetition.
Regina had found her soulmate.
Emma recalled Regina telling the story perfectly. Robin had laughed when she told him, but only at the fact that the pervasive smell of apples wasn’t just because of their efforts to grow the tree. The rest took care of itself. With their love secured, finally, not one, but two things grew. The first was Regina’s tree and the second was a love that was just as strong as the bark below the sunrise-colored leaves.
After a few years, the tree began to falter in its fruits. The apples lost their firmness and batch after batch became more inedible than the last. Regina and Robin had meant to go back to the same farm where Regina first got those apples. That was the plan.
But then life happened.
Time slipped away from them. Regina became mayor and their free weekends became fluxes of going to her stepson Roland’s baseball games and taking him to wilderness survival club meeting in between town meetings, tending to their neighbor’s trees and flowers, and general chores.
And then Robin became sick.
That’s where their story had left off, but it wouldn’t be the end if Emma had anything to say about it.
Emma wasn’t a doctor and there was little a bail bondsperson could do to take the occasional load off Regina’s back, not that it would probably be accepted, knowing Regina.
What she did have though was a currently empty schedule and the perfect idea for a gift that would lift the family’s spirits.
It was going to be a simple trip. Emma had made sure of it, and if everything went according to plan, she’d be home by midnight.
Can’t wait to spend another six hours on the road, as if the last six weren’t fun enough.
It would be a long day trip to be sure, but the shitty thing about her type of business was that one never knew when their next client would call asking for her immediate services, and the fact was that an apartment wedged in the corner of Maine didn’t pay for itself.
Google Maps had told her that she’d be approaching Jones Farms in just a few minutes, three to be precise.
Finally, after hours of passing through them, the forests came to an end and a subsequent clearing revealed a series of farms over the next few miles. Jones Farms was the fifth that Emma saw. She found the spot where she could park and her yellow bug – her sole companion on this elongated trip – at last got a well-deserved rest.
Emma got out of her car and as she stretched – a relief she couldn’t understate if she tried after such a long trip – she took in her surroundings. Right in front of her stood a wooden farm with a storefront alongside it and a wide stretch of trees behind it. Emma could just make out the sight of an apple or two across the distance. Just then, the door to the storefront opened, and Emma turned her attention that way. She noticed a man exit and come into her line of view, though somewhat masked by the shadow from underneath the roof of the patio. Upon taking notice of her, the man waved Emma over.
Emma was about to head to the storefront and get started on business. Then, as she took a deep breath of the crisp air, she smelled something she hadn’t expected alongside it.
Cinnamon?
The aroma didn’t as much dance up her nose as opposed to hit her nostrils like a brick to the face. And it wasn’t like Emma disliked it. It was actually the opposite, really. But it did leave a lingering question, one Emma couldn’t answer so easily:
Why did The Great Outdoors smell like a snickerdoodle?
Her curiosity as well as her mission compelled her to go forward towards the shop.
“Hello,” the man said. “Welcome to Jones Farms.” When Emma finally got close enough to make out the man’s features, she blinked.
To be fair, Emma didn’t know what to expect from the farm hands when she came here, but what she didn’t expect was him.
The man before Emma was roughly half a head taller than her. He had piercing blue eyes, dark brown hair with a set of bangs that were swept back, and a tasteful bit of scruff that peaked at the space between his nose and mouth and otherwise ran across his chin. A black jacket covered his upper torso and arms and below was a pair of dark jeans, but neither entirely masked the subtle hints of muscle.
All this to say, he was quite handsome.
Not a bad person to spend an hour or two with.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before, but it’s nice to meet you all the same. Killian’s the name,” he went on to say, extending a hand. “Killian Jones.”
“Emma,” she responded meeting his hand with her own. “Emma Swan.” They shook, and Emma couldn’t describe it, but just the feeling of touching him was…nice.
His whole demeanor was nice, in fact.
No, not nice. Kind.
People were a generally easy read for Emma. One didn’t survive long as a bail bondsperson without such an ability. She’d always had an affinity for spotting lies for as long as she could remember, and the rest had developed with age. These days, Emma could easily tell someone’s intentions on sight, as if a map of their person was drawing itself right in front of her.
And right now, Killian’s map pointed to the big heart on his sleeves. It wasn’t a bad way to be. He was certainly more comfortable around new people than Emma tended to be, but Emma supposed that came with the job, customer service and all that. In any event, he had an air about him and Emma couldn’t help but find it infectious.
“It’s a pleasure. Now, how may I assist you today?”
“I’m looking for some Bloody Ploughmans.”
Killian raised both of his brows and bulged his eyes. “Such language,” he said, the mock offense in his voice as clear as glass, and a gloved hand clutching at his lapel as if to milk the reaction for even more. Emma gave a gentle roll of the eyes with a smirk that was quickly returned with a charming smile. “Sorry, can’t help but use that joke on the customers. To be fair, you would too if you had something with that name.” He released a small chuckle and Emma allowed her smirk to soften into a more genuine smile. Noticeably grateful, Killian gave a thankful nod. “In any event, a fine apple.”
“And you’re the only place that has them.”
“That’s because there’s few apple farmers who come from across the sea where they’re found.”
Emma nodded. The accent in his voice made it obvious that he was British.
“You’ve good taste,” Killian continued.
“Not me, actually,” Emma pointed out. “My friend. You may remember – she came here a few years ago – Regina Mills?”
Killian’s eyes brightened with what Emma could assume was recognition.
“Yes,” Killian confirmed. “I think a decade has past since then. I remember her because she insisted on trying every apple at the farm while she was here. People often make that promise – mostly kids – but she was the first to actually do it, and the only!” He started to laugh, and Emma found herself unexpectedly compelled to join in.
That’s Regina for you.
“She told me about that,” Emma said jovially. “And if you think that’s crazy, you should’ve seen her when her favorite cereal got discontinued! She broke open her piggy bank and dragged me all over town. We went to every supermarket and bought as many boxes as we could carry!”
“Did you two grow up together?” Killian was smiling at her.
“Yeah.”
“Relatives or friends?”
“Kind of both.”
Killian quirked his brow, looking as confused as a penguin in a desert. “I don’t follow.”
“Foster siblings,” Emma said, following a moment’s hesitation.
“Ah. Gotcha,” Killian said with a soft grin. His appreciation may have been unspoken, but the gentle sprouts of his dimples told Emma quite a bit of his gratefulness for sharing something like that to someone who was little more than a stranger.
It definitely made Emma feel better. She was always tremulous when it came to bringing up something like that, but though Killian had asked for specifics until it became unavoidable, it was clearly not his intention for her to reveal that and he’d given just the right reaction to it, leaving the ball in her court for more information without a bit of pressure.
“So anyway,” Emma resumed, getting back on topic, “Regina planted an apple tree with some seeds from that apple, but the fruit these days has got all these bumps on them – Regina said it’s something called brown rot – and she wanted to grow another. She had a hard time getting back down here, so I came here to get them for her.”
“Quite a generous offer,” Kilian said. “Regina’s taste seemed to have remained the same, both in apples and in company.”
Emma smirked. “You use that line on all your customers?”
Killian returned the expression without missing a beat. “Only for the best.” Emma felt a compulsion to blush.
This guy’s either the best salesman in the world or he’s Superman.
Well, whatever he is, I’ve got to get moving. Besides, it’s starting to look cloudy.
“So, how about we get started?” Emma suggested. “Bloody Ploughmans are great and all – my favorites – but I really want to make this just a one day trip and traffic is probably going to be a bitch getting back to Maine as it is.” At the location of Emma’s hometown, Killian’s brow raised.
“Maine? Well, that’s one hell of a day trip, but I can surely understand, so, as the lady insists.”
Emma nodded gratefully, and as she did, she noticed the smell of cinnamon and how it was still so strong in the air.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask: What’s that smell? I feel like I’m in a bakery.”
Much to Emma’s confusion, Killian gaped and the brow that was already raised as well as its brother practically flew out of his head. “Is this really your first time visiting an apple farm?”
“Yeah,” Emma answered, stuck between feeling guilty and laughing at the expression on Killian’s face through her befuddlement at the question.
With a click of his tongue, Killian smirked. “No wonder. You’ve never had an apple cider donut?”
Apple cider donut?
The words flowed off Killian’s tongue, and mental images of the idea of the snack started floating through Emma’s head. To add to that, the traces of cinnamon in the air made it all the more enticing. “Can’t say I have. They sound pretty good.”
“They’re better than good, Emma.” Killian pressed his lips together and looked at his store thoughtfully for a brief moment before turning back to Emma. “You know what, Emma? Come on in. I’ll give you a freshly made one, on the house.”
Emma was about to decline at the behest of her inner-chiding about her already expected-to-be long ride home, but her gurgling stomach betrayed her. Another smirk crossed Killian’s face, and if it didn’t look so good on his face, Emma might just be annoyed by it. Regardless, she was hungry and the donuts sounded delicious. “Lead the way,” she said as she signaled for him to do just that with a finger pointed towards the door.
“It’s weird though,” Killian commented as they enclosed on the shop’s entrance.
“What?”
“I smell the donuts too, but I haven’t made any today.” Killian then shrugged. “But then again, that machine is powerful and it’s old, too. Perhaps it’s just gotten a bit of a residual smell with age.”
Emma shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
“But trust me when I say this, Emma: If you think the cinnamon is powerful now, when this thing gets kicking, your nose will be straight-up filled with the stuff.”
And whether it was the hunger softly making itself known through the pangs in her stomach or the aroma that she started to feel acting as a premonition for the success for the rest of the day going forward, but Emma found the idea of a cinnamon-filled shop to be not only delightful, but also worthy of a show of delight and one final disclosement about herself.
“Well,” Emma said, smiling. “Cinnamon just happens to be my favorite smell, so get cooking.” Killian grinned and with that, he opened the door to the store and the two of them walked in.
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True enough to Emma’s expectations and Killian’s word, as soon as Killian put the apple cider donut machine to work, the smell of cinnamon grew ten times stronger.
The batter, Killian told Emma, had already been prepared and refrigerated the night before, so all he had to do was place some in the machine, and it would do the rest. Watching it go was quite the spectacle. The machine molded the batter into the correct shape for the donuts and plopped them onto a conveyor belt that would from there take them to be fried and adorned with their cinnamon sugar coating. It was a cool process to watch and Emma would’ve been lying if she said otherwise.
The two of them filled the time waiting for the donuts to finish with light conversation, first with a cursory tour around the store, and afterwards with Killian showing Emma how his apple cider machine worked.
When the donuts were at last done, Killian stood at the end of the donut-making machine, grinning like a mad scientist as the coating was sprinkled on the freshly fried pastries. “Gotta love that smell – the cinnamon and sugar coming together. Best in the world if you ask me!”
“It does smell good.” Emma took another whiff and felt goosebumps as she took it is. “I love my cinnamon candle at home, but it has nothing on this.”
“And it gets even better! Just wait until you taste one!” A moment later, an apple cider donut was in her hand and another in Killian’s. He clinked their donuts together and took a bite, with Emma immediately following suit.
What next hit Emma’s lips she could most closely describe as a lightning bolt of sweetness. Sugar and cinnamon so fresh that Emma swore they came off their original plants spread across her tongue like fireworks. The pastry itself hit her teeth like a goose down pillow and when it opened, the texture of warm cake spread through her mouth. Emma closed her eyes as she absorbed the taste while the rest of her donut radiated warmth between her fingers.
Ooh. Is that–?
“Cinnamon? Yup, it’s in the donut batter too,” Killian said. Emma nearly choked on her donut, releasing a cough so that she wouldn’t spit out her food. Her eyes bulged open.
Is he psychic?
Killian seemed to think so. At Emma’s reaction, he gave her a shit-eating grin. “You’re a surprisingly easy read, Emma, and even for me.”
“You read everyone so well?”
“All part of the job, love. I’m quite an old hat at it.”
No, not psychic. Just cocky.
Though I’ll admit: cocky looks good on him.
Emma returned the smirk, not ready to be defeated at the game she excelled so well at. “Well, I’m pretty good at reading people too, and you’re not exactly War and Peace yourself.”
“Oh yeah?” Killian asked, his smirk having grown somehow even wider than before. “Then what am I thinking?”
This is too easy.
“You’re itching for me stroke your ego and compliment your donuts,” Emma answered, with not a single beat missed in the process. Killian looked impressed, his cocky smirk still present, but his eyes forfeiting his amazement.
“Very good. Now will you?”
She took a deep breath, revelling as cinnamon danced around her nose once more. “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”
The smirk on Killian’s face dissolved into a smile. “Always nice to hear.”
Emma was about to say something – granted, jokingly – about not letting the compliment go to his head when suddenly, a loud noise beat her to the punch.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
As the noise sounded off, Emma turned her head. Atop the cashier’s counter was a loud and colorful birdhouse with a clock in the top center of it. At the moment, a blue and yellow bird were rolling around a semicircle stretched out in front of the display of the time.
“The kids love it,” Killian commented, “and it’s a great reminder to check on our inventory regularly, especially in our peak season.” Nodding, Emma looked at the time, but before another second passed, her curious expression turned violently into a gawk.
Shit! It’s already one!
Killian had clearly noticed the change of face. “Are you okay, Emma?”
Emma sighed, remembering herself.
“Yeah. I’m okay,” she said. “It’s just that I didn’t think I’d be here this long. I’ve gotta get moving. Look, thanks for the donut. It was really good. Tell you what: I’ll grab a half a dozen of those for the road and take two bags of the Bloody Ploughmans.” Emma dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans, the leather of her wallet brushing against her fingers, but she soon stopped at the sight in front of her: Killian frowning. “What?”
“Come on, Emma,” he whined. “It’s your first time at an apple farm, and I’m not about to let you just buy the apples without picking them first.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Killian, but I can’t.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Killian chided, waving a finger. “There’s nothing like the feeling of pulling an apple right off a tree and taking a bite out of it. It forms an intimate bond between yourself and nature.” Emma raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Besides,” he continued, “I sold out of my pre-picked bags of them yesterday. Unless you can come back another day, you haven’t a choice.”
Emma pouted to herself. “No, I can’t. It took me hours to get up here and this is the only day I’ll be able to do it for like a month.”
“Look, Emma. If you want, I could go and pick the apples for you if you really don’t want to. I know the situation’s hardly ideal what with the weather so perhaps I can assist.”
Still pouting, Emma resigned herself to the idea. “It’s okay. There’s nothing else to do here. I may as well help you.”
So much for my quick trip.
Also, I should grab some gloves from my car. From the way Killian’s talking, it might get cold soon.
Killian smiled, practically stubbornly in the face of Emma’s pout. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun,” he encouraged. “And I’ll come with you, take some pictures on your phone, and you can show Regina what a good time you had!” When faced with Killian’s grin, Emma felt her pout give out right before she grinned too. Killian seemed to be able to tell that he’d won the battle, his teeth flashing. “Will,” he called to a man sitting by the cash register in front of the store. “I’m going to accompany our lovely patron to the orchard for her first proper picking. You’re in charge until I get back.”
“Aye, aye!” the cashier said cheerfully. Content enough with the circumstances, Emma and Killian started for the exit out of the store. “Uh, before you go, Killian,” the man continued just before Killian could touch the doorknob, his tone now smaller. “Just reminding you that you said I could leave in two hours. I really need to get home soon.” Despite the meekness of Will’s words, Emma noticed that there was an underlying urgency to them too.
What’s beating him?
“Of course, Mr. Smee. We should be back with time to spare. Now come, Emma! The orchards await!”
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Jones Farms ended up being far more extensive than Emma thought. While the trees looked to be close to the house and storefront, the walk to the orchards had taken about five minutes, and Killian told Emma as they strolled through the trees that the Bloody Ploughmans were in the back of the fields, past the dozens of Macintoshes, Galas, and Granny Smiths alongside their path. The trek made Emma feel like the layers of trees were practically swallowing her whole. She looked to Killian who contrarily seemed so at home as he navigated through the dense forest. His eyes were shifting from branch to branch, muttering to himself about the state of the fruits on the trees and the fences on the border of the orchard that were just visible from the path. From what she could make out from his mutters and expressions, it all looked good.
Just before Emma was about to turn her head back to focus on the way ahead, Killian met her eye. Instantaneously, his expression popped from one of intense focus to one of an equally intense embarrassment.
“So sorry for the quiet, Emma!” Killian said. “Just wanted to check on everything. You can never be too careful with one’s livelihood when it’s forced to lay bare against mankind and the elements, and since I’m here and all, may as well look now.”
“I get it,” Emma replied, assuaging Killian of his clear guilt. “It’s your business, and work always means more when you’re your own boss.”
Killian quirked a brow. “You know from experience?”
“I’m a freelance bail bondsperson.”
“That’s pretty cool! What’s the work like? Is it like all the TV shows?” Emma almost wanted to laugh at the childlike enthusiasm on Killian’s face. It was wide-eyed, curious, and honestly just cute.
All of that made it hard for her to do what she needed to next.
Emma scrunched her face and shook her head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but not really. I mean, sometimes, you’ll get a runner, and then you’ll have to play detective to find them, but it doesn’t happen often. Usually, I’m just filing paperwork, checking with the courthouses, and driving to defendant’s houses to check on them and make sure they haven’t skipped town. Thankfully, for most of the people I’ve worked with, they haven’t. It’s not the easiest lesson to learn when you’re a foster kid, but in my field of work, you realize that more people are good than not.”
Killian’s face fell, but only slightly. “Well, it’s at least an optimistic aspect of society nowadays, that those who you help are also working to help themselves.”
“Exactly,” Emma said, a feeling of profound satisfaction in her gut and a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She hardly ever talked about work – mostly because it was as mundane as she described most of the time – but Killian just got what that mundanity meant.
I wonder what his story is…
…Couldn’t hurt to ask.
“By the way,” she continued, “how’d you get all the way from England to have an apple farm here in the states? They don’t have apple farms across the Atlantic?”
“They do, but –”
Wait, don’t tell me.
“Trying to avoid someone?”
Despite the interruptance, Killian seemed to take the question well, a brief low chuckle coming through his throat.
“That depends: Does an entire country count as someone?” Emma’s eyes bulged. Killian seemed to understand immediately where Emma’s mind had gone. “No, trust me. I’m not a criminal,” he explained. “Quite the opposite actually.”
“Oh?”
Killian pursed his lips. Though Emma could tell from there that the subject made Killian uncomfortable, right before she could stop him, Killian started speaking. “My brother and I were in the navy back home. He was killed in the line of duty and I lost my hand.”
Shit.
Emma grimaced, feeling guilty for ever bringing up the topic. She couldn’t imagine losing a limb, much less someone so close to her in a war. “I’m so sorry, Killian.”
“It is what it is.” Killian took a deep breath. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to spare Killian any further pain, Emma spoke again.
“We don’t have to talk about this if you want.”
“It’s alright,” Killian dismissed. “You told me a bit of your story. The least I can do is give you a glimmer of mine.”
Emma – touched – felt her hand drift to her chest.
“After being honorably discharged, I left the country,” Killian continued. “Life in England had never been easy for me, so I decided to make a new start in a new country.”
“All by yourself?”
“Yes. Our parents are long gone, one more loosely fitting that definition than the other, but gone all the same. I’ve Mr. Smee as an employee and a few townspeople as friends, but otherwise, no one really.”
Now that was a weird sensation. While it wasn’t something she was used to growing up, Emma’s small town these days carried with it a sense of intimacy. She had Regina who she was close to, but there were others as well and given the nature of small towns, she had at least some idea of everyone’s business. Sometimes, it was too much for her, especially due to her upbringing, but to be by yourself with all this land, Emma couldn’t imagine it.
“It doesn’t get lonely?”
“Oh, it does. To tell you the truth, I’ve hoped that one day, perhaps my soulmate will drop by the farm and from there, we’d settle down here together.”
Emma snorted, perhaps a tad more condescendingly than intended, but not enough that it looked like she hurt Killian in the process.
“You’re into that stuff?”
Killian raised a brow. “Who wouldn’t be?” She met his eye, and once more, he seemed able to read her thoughts. “You?” he asked, his surprise evident.
“Eh,” Emma shrugged.
“Hmm. I’ve always loved the idea,” he responded with a shrug of his own. “Being around someone and everything just feeling…right. Kind of like a safety net. The rest of the world gives us so much pain. It’d be nice to have one person who was always on your side, who you could always rely on, and could always rely on you.”
Boy, is that naive.
But Emma didn’t give voice to the thought. After all, when Killian finally found his soulmate, odds are that they’d have the same idea of what a soulmate is. And maybe it really would be as easy as that for them. For his sake, she hoped that was true.
As for her…
“I don’t know. I guess it just feels weird, like being in an arranged marriage by the universe.”
It was an understatement of her true thoughts, to be sure, but it was serviceable for their conversation.
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Killian said, musing. “I’d say it’s closer to…an apple farmer showing you where to find the trees you want are.”
Jeez, he’s a total romantic.
But hey, if anyone can make the whole soulmates thing work, it’s probably him.
I can’t imagine anyone would turn him down with a face like that, and that’s before they’d spend a minute with him.
“Speaking of,” Emma redirected, “so what about the apple farming?”
“My brother Liam and I used to work odd jobs as teenagers to make money. We found being farmhands for this one couple’s orchard to be the best of them. Besides, even though I wanted to leave my old life behind, it didn’t mean I wanted to leave my brother. You know what’s funny?” Emma hummed inquisitively. “You said earlier that Bloody Ploughmans were your favorite apple. Well, they were Liam’s favorite too. And speaking of,” Killian said, pointing ahead. “Look, we’ve arrived!”
Indeed they had. Emma’s gaze followed Killian’s finger. Beyond a small clearing was a messily labeled was a sign for Bloody Ploughmans and three rows of trees that extended back until a fence roughly three hundred feet away.
“Emma,” Killian said, walking past Emma until he could face her from the front. “I’m going to check on the fence at the back of this section.” He then produced a folded bag out of his coat pocket. “Why don’t you get a head start, and I’ll be right back?” She nodded and took the bag, and with a final toothy smile, Killian took off, leaving Emma alone.
For a moment, all Emma could do was take in the trees. There was such a beautiful familiarity in seeing the Bloody Ploughmans. After the tree in Regina’s yard had proved itself to be ill beyond repair, Regina had chopped it down, leaving only a small stump where the strong bark once stood. Emma had forgotten how they stood, shorter to the ground than she remembered, but also fuller in its fruits and still as commanding in their presence as ever.
With the crunching leaves below her boots as her only companion, Emma stepped towards the closest apple tree.
Suspended in the air, just a half a foot above Emma’s head was a gorgeous looking apple. It was perfectly plump in its shape and was a shade of red that she recognized all-too-well.
Now that’s what I’m talking about!
Raising a hand up to the apple’s base, Emma pulled it towards her, twisting it slightly when she felt weakness in the top of the stem. When the apple was finally released, the branch that held it flung backwards – and as Emma found out before she could even hope to move to stop it – right into Killian’s unprepared face.
Oh crap.
Killian released a grunt that was deprived of any and all grace at the impact.
“Sorry,” Emma said meekly, an apologetic smile on her face. Killian enclosed his hand around the branch and steadied it. He didn’t look mad, but simply startled. As he sputtered, a leaf revealed itself to be in KIllian’s mouth, much to his clear disgust.
For the record, Emma did feel guilty. Truly, she did.
But she couldn’t help herself when she felt a bout of giggles in her chest as Killian coughed and pushed the leaf away.
So, after losing a battle of wills she never had a shot in hell of winning, Emma released a small chuckle, and much to her relief, Killian joined in.
“Might I suggest a less violent approach to picking apples?” he asked, chuckling not only from the absurdity of his previous situation, but also from the triumph that came with ridding himself of the stray leaf once and for all. “Not that your approach isn’t effective, but I’m quite fond of my face the way it is.”
So am I.
“Lead the way.”
“You got it, love,” Killian replied, a flirtatious wink at the word.
Emma felt her cheeks get pleasantly warm, making the cold air around her face feel all but nonexistent.
Killian took an apple less than a foot above him into his hand and with the other, took the branch.
“What you want to do is hold the apple - and you were right to give it a little twist at the stem - but what you want to do is keep the branch steady too. It’s not good for the tree for it to flail like that.” Emma watched closely, and as Killian spoke, she noticed his left hand - unlike the right - was gloved.
That’s probably the prosthetic.
Emma found herself impressed. The prosthetic moved almost as well as his hand did, perhaps a touch more rigidly, but it would be nothing anyone would be able to notice of they didn’t have the hawk-like eyesight of a bailbondswoman.
“So watch what I do.” Gently, Killian removed the apple while still keeping everything else relatively the same. Once the branch was safely put back in place, Killian showed Emma the apple. It didn’t gleam like an apple on a teacher’s desk, but it had this distinct and natural beauty to it within the thin layer of dirt at its surface. “And there you have it.” Killian gestured downward with his eyes and it took Emma a moment to realize that he was pointing at her bag. Immediately, Emma opened it, and both Killian as well as her own apple from earlier fell into it.
“Thanks.”
Killian gestured towards the very apple tree he had just picked from. “Now you try, if you think you can handle grabbing an apple without causing an earthquake, that is,” he challenged. The good-natured smirk on his face made it clear that he knew she’d be one to hardly pass up a challenge.
Good guess.
“Either way, I’m about to rock your world.” After taking a second to choose the perfect apple, Emma grabbed it, and was careful to use the strategy Killian taught her. When she was done, she hovered the fruit in front of Killian’s face, just as he had done with the one he picked.
“Indeed you have,” Killian remarked. “And a very nice choice on top of that, love! See? Told you it was a good idea to come pick the apples fresh.”
“Not like I had a choice,” she said, putting the apple into her bag.
“But admit it: it was still fun.”
“Fine,” Emma relented, an amiable eye roll trailing beside her words like a trusted friend. “It was fun.” As if to solidify the point, Emma grabbed another apple in much the same way as she did the last.
She hadn’t planned for today to go how it had. She never imagined that she’d actually had to go out into the fields and get her own fruits, but being around someone like Killian, someone so open and easy to talk to made her wonder why she’d have ever wanted to do this differently.
“Not to mention, Killian said, “you were also exposed to this beautifully crisp mountain air. Bet they don’t have this back in Storybrooke! Trust me, Swan, nothing makes you feel alive quite like when your lungs are full of it.” Dramatically with his arms open like he was performing the opening of The Sound of Music , Killian took a loud and deep breath. “Go on!” he encouraged.
And Emma did, albeit without the Julie Andrews pose. She took a sharp inhale and immediately, the fresh breeze began pouring throughout her entire being.
…Alongside something else.
Cinnamon?
Emma furrowed her brow. That didn’t make sense. They must’ve been a quarter of a mile away from the storefront of Jones Farms. And there’s no way with all the wind blowing that the smell from the donuts she ate over an hour ago was still strong enough.
So why was she still smelling cinnamon as if she was right in front of the machine itself?
Wait…Didn’t Killian say something earlier?
She remembered it so clearly.
“Gotta love that smell – the cinnamon and sugar coming together. Best in the world if you ask me!”
That’s what Killian said exactly. Word for word.
No…
But if Emma was right – and she got a good feeling she was – then so much now made sense: why she felt so comfortable telling him she was a foster kid, how he was able to convince her so easily to come up here and apple pick, and why Kilian couldn’t seem to take two steps without making her smile.
We’re soulmates.
Emma’s stomach clenched. She took another breath, this time more staggard.
This really wasn’t what she expected to happen today.
Soulmate.
Killian was her soulmate.
Killian, the kind farmer.
Killian, one of the most handsome men she had ever met.
Killian, someone she had already felt okay telling bits about herself to.
…
Killian, the hopeless romantic who was just ten minutes ago waxing about how great soulmates were.
Killian, the guy who thought that he’d find his soulmate and they’d be together forever like the ending of a storybook.
Killian, the guy who was now looking at her, seemingly able to tell that something was amiss.
And of course he could.
After all, they were soulmates.
“Everything okay, Emma?”
No. Things weren’t okay by a long shot. Killian was her soulmate and she was not ready to deal with that yet. There was so much to think about, so much to talk about, and a million ways that things could go wrong if it wasn’t handled carefully. Killian’s hopes were so high, too high, and telling him right now in the middle of a picturesque apple orchard, for as photogenic as she’s sure it would be, didn’t seem the best way to ease him out of that mindset.
At the same time though, that very mindset had begged the question: Had Killian figured it out, too?
Definitely not. If he had found out, he wouldn’t hide it. He’d say something. I can read him.
But if she could read him, it stood to reason that he could probably read her too, no matter whether or not he knew.
To be blunt, Emma didn’t want him to know, or at least, not yet. To tell him now, before she could figure out what to say would open a can of worms that she knew could hurt them both.
And currently, Killian’s question over her well being hung in the air, waiting to be answered.
Emma searched for a way out, knowing that a straight up dismissal of his concerns would only arouse Killian’s suspicion. Attempts at fake concerns fizzed in and out of her mind, killed by the consequences that could ensue in their wake.
Thankfully, Emma looked at her apple bag and found her solution.
Perfect.
“I’m just hungry.” Immediately, she grabbed one of the apples she picked and shoved it into her mouth.
Damn, that’s good! But it tastes a little different. Did I just remember it wrong?
Emma scrunched her face in confusion.
Just then, Killian started chuckling.
Fuck. Why does he have to have such a cute laugh?
“Uhh,” Killian started. “You should probably know that there’s a layer of pesticides over that apple.” Emma gaped at the apple which now had a huge chunk removed from it, a chunk that was by now likely chilling in her stomach. “Nothing that’ll harm you!” Killian assured. “However, it does throw off the taste. I think that should solve that mystery for you.”
Emma chuckled, remaining conscientious as to keep the nervousness at bay despite how difficult the task ended up being. After finishing her apple over some small talk with Killian, she went back to picking apples off the tree. Killian took another bag from his coat pocket and at her behest, started assisting her.
Okay, good. We’ve just got to finish filling these bags and then I can get out of here.
She’d come back. Emma promised herself and Killian that much, however silently. For right now though, she couldn’t handle a soulmate.
For God’s sake, this was supposed to be a quick apple picking trip, not a rom-com!
“I gotta say,” Killian spoke, taking Emma from her thoughts, “I admire you for your dedication to your friend, but it’s a weird time for you to come all the way out here.”
Emma quirked her brow. “Why’s that? Some sort of festival going on?”
Killian looked at Emma as if she was crazy. “No, love. Amelia.”
Oh, please don’t say love.
She could feel her heart protest that sentiment, the tenseness that existed since she found out the truth being somewhat mitigated by the cozy feeling of the single word.
“Who’s Amelia?” Killian bit his lip, which was quite worrisome given his more chipper disposition from just a few moments ago. “Killian?”
“Amelia’s not a person, Emma,” he responded, so soberly that she felt a phantom shudder as he stared at her. “She’s a hurricane, and a bloody strong one. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of her. You can hardly walk ten miles without hearing anyone talk about it.”
“Oh crap,” Emma said, taking a hand away from her apple bag to massage her forehead.
“If you want to leave,” Killian spoke, “you need to get out of here fast.”
It didn’t take Emma long to come to a decision. She’d head out now. It was too much to not only confront the fact that they were soulmates, but to be trapped in the same town…
No. Especially not after last month…
She’d get Killian’s number or come by again after the storm let up. That way, she could talk to someone about this back home first. Maybe Regina would know what to do. Or hell, maybe she made a mistake. It was fall. Maybe everything just smelled like cinnamon up here and if she came by a few months later, the smell would be gone.
…That probably wasn’t true, but Emma entertained the notion all the same.
Emma nodded. “Let’s get these apples packed up. I’ll pay you then head out.”
“Good thin-”
Two simultaneous beeping sounds interrupted Emma’s words and a feeling of vibration from her pants let her know exactly where it was coming from.
Killian got to his phone first. He looked for a few seconds at the device before turning back to Emma, his tenuous face giving her insight into what he was about to say.
“The hurricane’s already caught up with the next town over and the main roads that lead out of here have just been shut down as a precaution.”
Words dried up on Emma lips like an ice cube in a cup of tea.
Until Hurricane Amelia let up and those lonely roads could be filled once more, she was stuck here.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
After a brisk walk back to the buildings beside Jones Farms, Killian invited Emma to use his laptop in the farmhouse. Already, Hurricane Amelia’s strength started to show itself. The winds were picking up fast and it had started raining on the return trip. Still, Emma retained some degree of optimism. Until the roads were shut down from within the town, she could conceivably find a hotel to stay at and avoid Killian altogether.
Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on their side.
There were very few hotels in the area and those that were around either had no vacancies or were off of or directly on roads that were rapidly closing down more and more with every click on the mouse.
After an hour of searching and a final emergency alert that definitively shut down all roads in Hudson, Emma closed the laptop with a sigh.
“Nothing,” she concluded, her eyes dull with the haze that followed resignation.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I know you only planned for a day trip. But, if it helps, you’re welcome to stay here for the duration of the hurricane. I’ve a spare room upstairs that’s all yours.”
It couldn’t be understated how badly Emma didn’t want this to be her only option. Killian was a smart guy and while cinnamon seemed to be a common smell by the storefront, it would make itself apparent as an outlier soon enough. He’d figure out they were soulmates, probably before if she was being generous
However, the fact of the matter was that this was her only option. The winds had only gotten stronger and while she’d slept in her car more than her fair share of times, she’d never been stupid enough to do it during a hurricane and that wasn’t about to change.
As for Killian, she’d do what she could to handle things.
After all, if cinnamon was Killian’s favorite scent too, maybe there was some finagaling that could be done.
“Thank you,” Emma said. “That’s really sweet. Can I pay you or something?”
“Nonsense!” Killian dismissed. “Besides, you’re doing me a favor.”
“How’s that?”
“It gets lonely during these hurricanes. The power goes out more often than not, it’s dark and disgusting, I forget to buy books, and there’s little else to do around here than gorge myself on cider and donuts. It’ll be nice having a spot of company. We could have a drink, share a story by the fire, also gorge ourselves on cider and donuts, play a board game.” Killian smiled goofily at her. “I’ve got Monopoly,” he added with a shrug.
Emma, despite every bit of panic in her bones, couldn’t help but smile back at the joke. “I’m in, but only if I can play the race car.”
Killian shook his head. “I’m always the racecar, love.” At that moment, Killian lowered his eyes to the floor. Once Emma’s eyes followed suit, she saw the small dark and damp looking circle at her feet. “Tell you what. Why don’t we pause our battle over the pieces and get you out of those wet clothes? I’ve some clean sweats you can change into.”
“Aren’t you the gentleman?”
“I’m always a gentleman,” Killian countered, a finger pointed at nothing particular. “Now, how about I continue to show myself as a gentleman and escort you to your dwelling?” As he spoke, he mock extended his hand, as if asking a beautiful lady to dance.
If Emma hadn’t been trying to keep a secret, she’d have groaned.
Could he be any more romantic?
Hesitantly, Emma smiled and slid her fingers onto his palm, completing the joke.
Killian showed Emma the way to her bedroom. It was cozy and small with a queen sized bed, a dresser with a mirror against the front wall, and a window that gave a nice view of the orchard.
“The sweats are in the top right drawer of the dresser. If you need me, I’ll be in my room down the hall. I think I need some clean clothes myself.” With a tap against the door, Killian exited the room, leaving Emma all alone.
When his footsteps were finally out of earshot and a door clicked shut in the distance, Emma leaned against the nearest wall and sighed.
How am I going to handle this now?
After soulmates were introduced, it didn’t take long for them to realize it. For Regina, it had taken a few weeks, but she had the benefit of living far across town from Robin and by her own nature, was so focused on the Bloody Ploughmans that she went all that time missing the forest for the trees.
Killian, Emma was willing to bet, would not. Not only was he perceptive – and more emotionally speaking than most – but they were now in the same house and weren’t going anywhere until this hurricane passed. It wouldn’t take long before the smell of cinnamon became too abundant to ignore.
A sigh parted her lips.
So that left her wondering: should she tell him the truth now? On some level she wanted to. He was a great guy, if not a touch too idealistic in his views on love and harboring this secret was going to be a pain for however long she had to. That said, Emma also saw a future past the reveal, and things didn’t go smoothly there. Killian was so invested in the idea of soulmates. If Emma approached things the wrong way, it could make for a very awkward evening.
Besides, Emma reminded herself, she had a plan.
She’d go home.
She’d talk to her friends.
She’d maybe even see a therapist.
Then she’d come back and talk to Killian, when she knew the right thing to say.
But that meant until then, she’d need to fight the clock.
Emma looked out the window. Leaves flew through the air like bluebirds, and the comparison was only solidified by the unique whistle that the wind made. She was going to be stuck in the house for the night, maybe even two if things weren’t better the next day.
Of course I don’t have anything I can pretend is perfume or deodorant.
As Emma took in and mused over her situation, she took a deep breath. As the oxygen inflated her lungs like a vacuum bag, it revealed something quite curious: the smell of cinnamon was out of her nose shot.
And as loathe as she was to admit it, that revelation gave her a glimmer of hope.
Maybe Killian wouldn’t figure out they were soulmates if Emma played things smart. When they were both in their rooms, any clues that they were soul mates were nonexistent. Obviously, she couldn’t ignore Killian, but if she could keep in her room just long enough to keep any suspicions that he’d have at bay while not proving herself to be rude, she’d possibly be able to get away with their secret intact.
Just until she had that precious time to think.
A squishy feeling from below Emma’s boots drifted her away from her thoughts. Though not as big as the circle she made downstairs, this room’s beige carpet was starting to darken from the wayward drips of rain coming off of her jeans.
Speaking of thinking, I think I need to change clothes.
Emma looked at the top drawer that Killian pointed her to when she had first entered the room. Inside it was a pair of grey sweatpants as well as a matching sweatshirt. Both looked to be about a size bigger than she was, but Emma could tell that they’d fit fine enough.
So, to the sound of musical winds and thumping against the outer walls, she began to undress.
She got on the sweatpants and was about to put on the sweatshirt. Her hand had enclosed the garment when all of the sudden, less than six feet from her, there was a crash.
The entire explosion happened in an instant. Glass shattered and spread across the room like water over a beach at high tide. Right afterwards, the wind and rain began pouring in as aggressively as a hornet.
And somewhere in that mix, though she was uncertain of exactly when, Emma screamed.
“Emma!” Killian shouted as he ran inside. “Are you alright?” He looked at her with a primal fear in his eyes, only turning to look at the shattered window after a few seconds.
“Y-yeah. I’m okay. A branch must have crashed through the window.” Her words were proven true by the large piece of bark that currently leaned against her bed.
“Damn,” Killian muttered, right before turning to her again. “But at least you’re okay.”
Then something strange happened. Killian, who was noticeably only looking Emma in the eye, choked.
It was only at that point that she realized he, with a labored but steadily heaving chest, was shirtless.
In the moments where Killian had just entered the room, Emma had been too focused on the ruckus, as she should’ve been and the panic in his eyes as he examined both her and the scene.
But now the worst of the danger had passed, and his assets were fully on display.
And hers too.
Crap!
The sweatshirt - still not on her body, but pressed against her nonetheless - had done a fine job concealing Emma’s top half, but now was the time to properly wear it.
Killian seemed to realize this too. He held his left hand to his eyes and averted his gaze back towards the window.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I heard the crash and a shout-”
“It’s fine. I get it,” Emma interrupted, somewhat muffled by the sweatshirt that was going over her head. When it was finally on her person, Emma set about grabbing the stuff she’d brought into the room before stepping aside so Killian could inspect his window.
As Killian looked around, it became increasingly clear just how unsafe the area was. Glass was still falling off the window and rain was flying from the other side, and while the glass had mostly just missed him, the rain had been far more successful in that endeavor, hitting his face more and more with every passing second. After a full minute of this, Killian stepped back and turned to Emma.
“How bad?” Emma asked.
“Mother Nature’s quite upset with us. That branch did a clear number on this window and the room. I won’t be able to repair that, at least not until the storm’s gone. I can try to tape a shower curtain over it, but with the fierceness of this storm, I’m not confident it’ll hold. The most I can do otherwise is I bottle it shut with some towels.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“There’s a container down by the kitchen – big and blue, you can’t miss it – that could hold back the excess water from getting all over the floor and causing flooding. If you could get me that, that’d be great. I’m going to put my sweater back on and get to work.”
Emma headed downstairs and made her way into the kitchen. Sure enough, just as Killian said, there was a big blue container in the back.
Okay. Time to get this sucker upstairs.
Taking an edge of the container in each hand, Emma lifted it. She was all ready to go back upstairs and deliver the container to Killian when suddenly, something appeared out of the corner of her eye. Had she moved her head at any other angle, she would’ve missed it completely, but she hadn’t, and there it was, calling out to her like a sign.
A box of apple cinnamon tea and an old iron kettle right by its side.
Talk about fate.
The ensuing plan was formed in a matter of seconds and her hands were bringing the kettle to the sink after another pinch of them. Emma dropped the box and began to fill the kettle with water and stuck the last of the tea into the infuser inside of it, feeling a certain culpable delight as she got a whiff at the cinnamon, artificial for the first time since she’d discovered the truth. She set it on the stove and put the heat on.
The whole while that Emma conspired and enacted her plan, she felt her heart thumping heavily and quickly in her chest, beating as if she could be discovered at any minute.
Or like she wanted to be discovered.
Emma dismissed the notion as she continued to toil over her brew.
It’s for the best, just for now.
Once she was done, Emma grabbed the container again and brought it back upstairs to her room. As she entered, Killian was still at work, doing his best to hold the shower curtain down against the violent rain and winds. If Killian wasn’t already soaked from the downpour and his initial inspection of the window, he certainly was now. Emma quickly dropped the container in her arms and rushed to his side, holding the sides of the shower curtain he wasn’t using down.
“My hero!” Killian praised upon realizing what she was doing. The two smiled at each other and with the other sides of the shower curtain taken care of, Killian was able to make fast work of the project. After he was done, he put some extra towels on the floor and Emma put the container on top of them.
Breathless after the whole ordeal was done, Emma made a move to sit on the bed.
“Wait!” Killian cried before her tush could land. Carefully, he grabbed a piece of glass from just under her. “There’s more on there, too.”
Taking the hint, Emma leaned against the wall instead, just as she had when she first entered the room. At that moment, she noticed, much to her chagrin, that the smell of cinnamon had returned, and that the tea she prepared downstairs wasn’t anywhere close to boiling yet.
Fortunately, Killian seemed too occupied examining the destroyed room to contemplate the smell in any meaningful way. Emma looked on at the glass spread all over the floor and over the bed. The branch may have only given the window a single hit, but that single hit had evidently been more than enough to not only break the glass, but to shatter it entirely. All the while, the outside world was trying its best to wreck the window’s replacement. The wind puffed the shower curtain forward like a sail on the sea, and while it put up a good fight, there was no guarantee that it would be a solution that could unquestionably whether the storm.
All in all, Emma knew she couldn’t stay here.
Apparently, Killian picked up on that as well, for he moved to answer it for her.
“We’ll have to get you to another room,” he said.
Thankfully, Emma had a plan already brewing for that.
“Don’t worry,” she said, shrugging. “The couch looks comfy enough to spend a night or two on. I’ll ride out the storm there.”
And it seemed to be one that would work fine.
…For about as long as she was saying it.
But as soon as she was done, the pushback began.
Killian shook his head. “Not a chance. No guest of mine will stay on a couch, or at least not that couch. It my appear to be good for a nap, but trust me when I say its springs will surely kill you. No, you can have my bed, and I’ll weather that accursed thing.”
Emma groaned internally, knowing what she had to do. Damnit, the idea of them being in separate rooms was so perfect! It would’ve kept them apart and more importantly, keep the truth at bay, just until Emma figured out how to handle it.
But she couldn’t kick Killian out of his own room. Not after everything he had already done for her. Not with his low-hanging shoulders. Not with the way his hair that had fallen from the moisture of a long day’s work and a hurricane, doing more to show off his exhaustion than Emma was willing to bet his words ever would of Killian’s own volition.
And not after he had shown himself to be such a good guy.
“Why don’t we share it?” Emma suggested, fighting the hesitation that threatened to voice itself as best as she could.
Killian’s brows raised, and she could see him get smaller in the way he carried himself. “Are you sure?” he asked, the light glaze of nervousness obvious in his voice. “I-I mean, I promise to be a gentleman, of course.”
Despite her concerns, at the memory of a familiar phrase, Emma couldn’t resist the urge to make a little quip.
“I thought you were always a gentleman,” she countered.
“I-,” Killian started, but stopped his words in their tracks. After releasing a cough, he adjusted himself, looking like he was willfully banishing the worry from his system. He seemed to have accepted Emma’s offer with no reservations. “Thank you, Emma,” he said. Emma could feel his earnestness, just like she imagined he felt hers as she wordlessly told him that he was welcome.
The gratefulness there made for a meddlesome reminder that she was lying to his face.
Universe, you sure you didn’t mess this one up too?
He deserves someone who’ll be a real soulmate to him, someone who believes in the whole soulmate thing and that it really can last forever.
What he doesn’t deserve is a liar.
Suddenly, from outside the room, Emma could hear a loud whistle, pulling her from the inside of her head.
“Did you make tea?” Killian inquired, a cocked head.
“I figured it would be good to get ourselves warm after we were done with the window.”
Killian smiled. “Generous and kind. You’re one of a kind, Emma Swan, and I hope a friend.”
Emma felt her breath stagnate.
Once you figure out we’re soulmates, you’ll definitely want to be more than friends.
And that’s only going to make it worse when I tell you I can’t.
Because while you deserve a happily ever after, I don’t know if I can give you one.
I hope you know that when I finally tell you, it’s gonna hurt for me too.
He was close to her now, close enough to kiss if either of them wanted to.
It was annoying how appealing that was and how the notion so nearly overpowered her fears.
It was extra annoying given how the appeal of Killian Jones in general had so far won on more than one occasion, and she wasn’t about to let it win here.
“Monopoly!” The word burst out before Emma could process it. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for her to catch up. “Bet you won’t consider me a friend after we play Monopoly. So why don’t you get dressed and I’ll serve us up a cup of tea? Then I’ll show you how generous and kind I really am when I get those railroads from you.”
Killian smirked. “Game on, Swan. You best take the race car, cause you’re going to need it for luck. I’ll see you in five.” With that, he made off for his room, leaving Emma to descend the staircase with both hope and dread battling a what was essentially a Cold War in her chest as the scent of cinnamon vanished once more.
Oh believe me, I’ll need luck for a lot more than Monopoly.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Never let it be said that tea time couldn’t get intense.
Killian and Emma were quite the fierce competitors and Monopoly had run them well past the setting of the sun, running so late that they took a break to make dinner. All the while, their tea – and more importantly to Emma, the accompanying cinnamony aroma – continued to permeate the living room for the duration of the game.
“Shouldn’t have given you that race car,” Killian said, a good-natured tone present in his voice as he shook his head. “Told you it was lucky.”
Emma, proud of her victory, smirked. “Luck has nothing to do with it when you’re smart enough not to buy Baltic.”
“What did you want me to do? I had a Monopoly there!”
“Maybe use that to buy some houses on your yellows.”
She looked over at Killian, who was now slumping in his chair. A drawn out yawn roared from the innards of his mouth and much like a disease, it was quite contagious and suddenly, Emma was belting one out as well.
“Quite a day it’s been, between apple picking, hurricanes, a shattered window, and a positively gruesome game of Monopoly,” Killian said.
Emma, content as she rubbed her belly to alleviate the full stomach dinner and their dessert of apple cider donuts, snorted. “I’ve been to New York a few times, and the one thing I’ve learned throughout all of them is that you never know what you’re gonna get.”
“Does anything top this?”
“Not unless you count ramen burgers.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“You know, when the song said, if you can make it in New York, you could make it anywhere, our city neighbors took that a touch too literally.”
The two of them laughed for several long minutes. During that time, Emma’s guard began to drop and her mind wandered to places she hadn’t allowed it to go. She imagined a reality were she felt comfortable telling Killian they were soulmates, one where tonight could be celebrated as the first adventure in a life that would be full of them. She imagined coming home to a house draped with the scent of cinnamon and beaming, just knowing that inside was someone who would stand by her forever, no matter the obstacle.
It was a reality she had only recently barred herself from, but one that was so comforting to return to.
One that was too comforting to return to.
Shit
Emma knew she could drop the truth bomb now. Killian clearly hadn’t figured out the truth yet.
But the thought of it made her too nervous. Opening the door to the truth meant opening the door to their future together.
The only problem was that there was a chance neither of them would like where that door led, and that possibility held Emma back.
If things fail, I don’t want to hurt him.
If things fail, I don’t want to hurt me .
Killian, still oblivious to all of this, looked towards the distance at what Emma soon discovered was a clock.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “Why don’t you head off to bed?”
Emma felt a hitch in her throat, rendering her nearly speechless.
“Yeah,” she croaked, wishing that there was still some of the apple cinnamon tea left.
“You sound parched. How about you go upstairs and get settled in and I’ll grab you a glass of water.”
“Are you sure? I could grab it if you want.”
“Nah, that’s fine. Besides, there’s something I wanted to check on in the kitchen.”
Emma was vaguely curious about what exactly it was that Killian wanted to check on, but the idea of having some time to herself was too alluring to possibly risk by asking questions. And so she went upstairs, making a quick trip to the bathroom before heading to the bedroom across the way. Killian’s room was cozy, furnished with a neatly made king-sized bed with a navy comforter and one nightstand at each side, beige cabinets and drawers spread around the room, and a television parallel to the door. Much like Emma’s room, there was a large window, though it thankfully wasn’t broken.
Closing the door behind her, Emma sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands, finally letting out a half-hearted groan.
Killian was right: It had been a long day, and an even longer on for her.
This whole ordeal was harder than she’d thought. When she first learned she and Killian were soulmates, Emma hadn’t come to terms with it – she still hadn’t – but at least she had a plan and didn’t feel as tight knit to him as to make her feel too guilty about implementing it to stop herself from doing so. But the later afternoon and evening had exposed more than her prowess at board games.
It had exposed something of a normalcy. Were they together, she knew when times were good, that a day like this – the introductions and storm aside – could conceivably be what she could expect. The layout felt right enough: a trip to the fields, discoveries of even more personal stories, a night playing a game or even just watching TV together, and bantering all the while.
And Emma liked that. Talking with Killian was the most natural thing in the world. Even as she swallowed her insecurities through the hours she spent together, she could hardly say she was having a bad time throughout it. Spending time with him was fun. Killian was charismatic, but not too over-the-top and made the unexpected into an adventure just through his presence and sense of humor.
Yes, when times were good, Emma could see an ideal future with Killian Jones forever by her side.
The only troubling thing was the reality she was all too aware of: Times weren’t always good, and of that inevitability, she had no vision of what could come to pass.
What was Killian like when he was sad or upset? What about when he was angry or was going through real misfortune? A couple of times throughout their games, Emma was tempted to test those emotions, but she didn’t want to cause him harm, especially when he had done nothing to warrant it.
It was the exact same reason why she had continued to hold her tongue about the very matter of them being soulmates, and why she would continue to do so for however long she’d have to.
Now how long will that be?
Emma checked her phone. She opened up the weather app and saw a rain symbol right under the word “Tomorrow.” Of course, it wasn’t indicative of whether or not the hurricane would continue, but the possibility still existed.
Another groan, this time closer to a whine came out.
Damnit. Not what I wanted to hear.
She took a pause and another deep breath. It would be hard – just as today was – but she’d figure it out.
And so Emma picked herself up and settled herself into the left most and less lived-in side of Killian’s bed, all the while continuing to lick her proverbial wounds and try to plan for what the next morning might bring. The plush mattress underneath her form cozily ensnared her and the still whistling winds began to sing her their own kind of lullaby to the beat of the tapping rain against the roof.
Emma felt her upper eyelid start to succumb to its own weight, threatening to close. Just as she was about to let them, Killian stepped into the room, a glass of water in hand.
“Thanks,” Emma murmured sleepily while he placed the glass at her nightstand. She looked at him and noticed an apprehensive expression across his features. “Everything okay?”
In an instant, Killian’s expression made a complete change, now appearing as if he were just caught.
“Yes,” he dismissed. “Everything’s alright.”
If Killian had hoped to fool Emma with what he said, he was wrong. However, the pull of sleep won out over any curiosity that she had for the matter, and she let it go.
We’ll talk tomorrow.
A duet of good night’s filled the air, and as light left the room, so did all but the sounds of natures and snores.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
CRAAAAAACK!
In the midst of ebony left shortly after a shockwave of brightness, Emma gasped, startled awake.
A fear of thunder had never been something she ever fully got over from her childhood uneasiness, but this outburst of the elements was a particularly loud one and took Emma out of her slumber with a single crack.
“You okay?” a quiet whisper from beside her spoke.
“Killian?” Emma mumbled. She coughed once and composed herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, her volume restored. “Did I wake you up?”
“No need to apologize,” he assuaged. “And no, I was up earlier from another bolt. I’ve never been great with thunder either.”
“You could tell?” Even though she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, Emma could tell he was smirking as he heard her question.
“As I said earlier, you’re an easy read.”
Not to mention, your soulmate.
And suddenly, Emma too notice of the scent of cinnamon in the air. It wasn’t heavy, but what it was was hard to ignore.
She only hoped that Killian somehow had been able to do it.
Emma, biting her lip, checked her phone for the time. It was a little past two in the morning. That crack of thunder had fully woken her up and if Killian had been up for some time like he said he was, the same could definitely be said for him.
Great.
“May I turn on a light?” Killian asked from across the darkness.
“Yeah. Go for it.” A second later, the lamp from Killian’s nightstand lit up the room. It was bright enough to cause discomfort for a moment or two, but not enough to give that feeling of needing to start the day. Emma sat up in the bed, matching Killian who was already in the position. With her phone still in her hand, she tried looking at the weather app, but the service she had enjoyed all throughout yesterday was nowhere to be found.
“You can thank the hurricane for that little inconvenience. The service went out at least an hour or two ago. Small towns, you know. Cell phone towers are the first thing to go. I’m just glad we still have power, at least for now. Of course, if you need a phone, I’ve a landline downstairs. All yours.”
“No thanks. I just wanted to see an update on the storm.”
“I’m afraid that’s still up in the air.” As if to emphasize the point, a flash of lightning as well as an accompanying crack of thunder chose that moment to present themselves to the world. It wasn’t as powerful as its predecessor, but it nonetheless had the both of them letting out a small shudder. As they locked eyes, they gave each other a comforting smile.
“How bad was the one that woke you up?” Emma asked.
“Not too bad. Definitely not as loud as the one that got you, but to be fair, I’m quite perceptive when it comes to sounds to begin with.”
Apart from a courteous chuckle, Emma said nothing and for a moment, a silence bubbled in the space between them. She looked out the window at the skies. It wasn’t easy to see, but from what she could make out, the weather was just as violent, if not more so, than it was Hurricane Amelia first started up yesterday afternoon.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck here,” Killian said quietly.
Emma shrugged. “It’s fine,” she answered. Though careful to keep the lie off her tongue, Emma found that it was a task she found easy enough to do when she thought of her relative fortune given the circumstances. After all, a broken window aside, she was in a safe house in the middle of a harsh hurricane. “Besides, you’re a good host.”
“Thank you,” Killian said. Emma took a glance at him and saw that he was biting his lower lip.
He’s…nervous?
She was about to give voice to her concern when Killian beat her to the punch.
“Can I say something?” he asked.
“O-of course.”
“Remember last night, when you asked me when everything was alright, and I said it was?” Emma nodded, the memory as fresh as the apples on the trees outside. “Well, I lied,” he confessed.
“Yeah, I figured. Just like I told you earlier, you’re not the hardest read either.” Killian gave a chuckle that was very much like the courtesy chuckle Emma gave him earlier, but otherwise remained quiet. At a closer look, Emma saw him once again biting his lip. “So, what’s up?”
“It’s just that I-” Killian stopped and took a deep breath before starting again. “Emma, I’ve noticed something.”
Oh crap.
As Emma listened to Killian and processed his words, she began to notice the speed at which her heart was beating. “O-oh?” she uttered. “What’s that?”
Killian, clearly too caught up in his own nerves, didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that hers were shooting through the roof. “Last night, while we were playing, I realized I was smelling cinnamon all around the house.”
“You mean from the tea?” Emma quickly suggested in a vain hope to deter Killian’s line of thought.
However, it didn’t work.
“That’s what I thought at first,” Killian explained. “But I’ve been drinking that tea for years now, and it’s never been that powerful. Even when we finished, the smell was still there. So when you went up to the bedroom, I grabbed the mugs, but when I took a whiff out of mine, I could barely pick up the scent. The smell went from being everywhere to practically gone. Then I went back to my seat in the den and tried smelling for it. I even went outside to see if it was the machine. But nothing.” He stopped and took another deep breath and turned to Emma, the corner of his lips tugged up ever so slightly. “And then I thought of something you said back at the store.”
Oh crap.
“W-hat was that?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.
“How much you loved cinnamon,” he said simply. “ So I came up with a little theory and tested it. I grabbed that glass of water for you and came upstairs and when I reached my room…the smell came back. It was just as potent as it was when you left.”
Oh crap.
Emma struggled to speak or even make a single noise.
“Emma,” Killian said, his volume just above a whisper. “I think we’re soulmates.”
As Killian’s – and unbeknownst to him, Emma’s – truth proclaimed itself once and for all, only one thin went through Emma’s head.
Oh crap!
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
For the first few seconds after Killian announced his and Emma’s shared fate as soulmates, Emma felt her entire self go as blank as a sheet of paper. She found her ability to speak as nonexistent as a unicorn riding atop a dragon. Her thoughts blurred like the eyesight of a drunkard. Her hearing was muffled like a groan into a pillow.
Killian found out they were soulmates.
For as much as Emma had tried to prevent him from finding out the truth, she hadn’t thought of how she’d handle it when he eventually did.
But that time had finally arrived and now the best Emma knew that she could hope to do was try and hide the fact that she knew for as long as she did.
So when those mercilessly slow seconds at last passed, she realized she’d need to react somehow to the news.
Here goes nothing.
A smile and a “yeah” that was as excited as Emma could hope for was the response she settled on.
Right beside her, Killian was beaming, as ecstatic as Emma imagined he would be.
And as ecstatic as she feared he would be.
“I can’t believe–I’d always hoped–And with you–” Killian was practically tripping over the words that came out of his mouth at a mile a minute. “This is amazing!” he cried, the volume in his voice now bereft of its respect for the quiet of the early morning and was as loud as it would’ve been in the middle of the day.
In the midst of Killian’s tornado of thrills, Emma did her best to get swept up in it too.
With the bounciness of a box of puppies, he certainly made it enticing to try.
As he talked, Emma made the effort. She pushed for a hearty laugh and she made her smile large enough to match his.
While not entirely for naught – doing as much as could be conceivably done for the ten seconds of work she could afford to give in the time she had – it did little to banish the butterflies in her chest.
Suddenly, through her cotton sweats, Emma felt a patch of heat gently pressed against her. She looked to her side and saw that Killian had placed his hand upon her forearm.
“I’m so happy,” he said, practically cooing. Emma’s smile grew smaller, but at the same time, so much more sincere. “Are you?”
It was a tough question to answer.
Killian’s short term excitement should’ve made her happy. His smile should’ve made her happy.
And they almost did.
Key word: almost.
And there lied the problem.
Killian was a perceptive man. It was something he had proven himself to be throughout the past day and Emma knew better than to doubt it now. If she lied, he’d know it.
It was one thing to project a negative emotion onto something other than its intention. Emma was able to do it earlier on the orchard by feigning hunger. It was another thing to straight up lie about an emotion’s existence.
No matter how badly she wanted to feel it.
But it didn’t stop her from trying.
“Of course,” she answered, fighting with all her might to will her words into fact.
Sadly though, despite her wish, it didn’t take.
Killian’s face crinkled as he listened. His features darkened, his smile dissolved and his brows furrowed. “No you’re not,” he said, so much conviction in his voice that Emma believed that he was as sure of the truth as the sun is sure of rising each day.
And the exposure of that one lie seemed to start a domino effect of doubt.
“Emma, you have been smelling something, right?”
At least I can tell the truth about this.
“I have,” she responded, her tone now matching his.
“When did you first notice it?” he asked immediately afterwards. There was an imperativeness to his words, but his eyes were pleading with her. They looked to be trying to find an excuse to reject the truth that was undeniably becoming so clear.
Emma worked to give him that truth, but Killian had clearly run out of patience.
“You…you said earlier that you didn’t care for soulmates,” he pointed out. Emma saw him putting puzzle pieces together and finally, reaching the conclusion Emma was most afraid of. “Emma, Did you know…the whole time?”
No, it wasn’t the whole time, but it was damn well over half of one and well past when Killian discovered it. To point out the difference would be meaningless.
So Emma said the only thing she could.
“I…” Emma sighed. “I did.”
The effect was instantaneous. Killian’s lips seemed to be forming the word “why,” but couldn’t get enough support from his diaphragm to give it any voice. He slid back down so he was once again lying in the bed. His eyes took on such a sad expression. Emma wasn’t sure whether or not there was the start of welling tears, but there grew a certain puffiness to his eyes.
In short, he looked like she’d just ripped his heart out of his chest, and hell, in that moment, she felt like that’s exactly what she did.
Killian turned so that his back was to Emma. If Emma felt at a loss for what to say or do before, it was nothing compared to how she was feeling now. A verbal apology would do nothing, a touch would feel too intimate and raw, and now she couldn’t even apologize with her eyes.
Before Emma could think anymore on it, Killian got up from the bed.
She knew she couldn’t leave what had happened at that, but what exactly she wanted to say still left her struggling to convey properly. In the end, something that was a mix of a squeak and a protest came out of Emma’s mouth, though it was as meager as the size of an ant’s leg.
“I,” Killian started, cutting her off while not even looking at her with a hurt-strained voice. “I just need a minute.”
Out of his line of vision, Emma nodded, her mouth agape from the seemingly guiltlessness of how he went about his decision. Since yesterday afternoon when they had met, he had constantly given her a choice as to how he’d behave, whether formal or friendly. For the first time though, as he’d walked out of the bedroom door, he had taken the decision for himself alone.
As the door closed, vacating Killian’s form from her line of sight, so did the smell of cinnamon vacate Emma’s nose.
And once it was gone – after staying with Emma in the midst of a hurricane – Emma realized just how much she missed its presence.
Emma, who remained sitting up in the bed, listened as the sound of creaking floors grew softer and softer. For the next hour, she continued doing just that, frozen with both regret for her lie and hope that at any second, she’d hear him come back.
It was a childish presumption and after the shock and initial run of panic had worn off, it didn’t take long for her to realize that.
So what am I supposed to do now?
Throughout their time together, Killian had only expressed a true desire for only one thing: His soulmate.
And for almost just as long, Emma knew exactly where he would find them and chose to withhold it.
Were they worth the guilt that was now cutting into her chest? Worse, were her fears worth the betrayal in Killian’s eyes or the destruction of the newly formed yet completely solid companionship they had built thus far? Were they worth the tells of doubt and worries of worthlessness that spread across his features like sand over a beach?
No, of course not. And now that the fallout had ensued, she’d regretted making it so.
And it was now her job to fix it.
But how would she do it?
Was it better to give him his space, or should she talk to him before the situation became unfixable or at the very least too awkward to mend in a meaningful way?
As Emma pondered this, she realized that she ended up answering her own question and quietly, she got up from the bed and left the room.
The walk down the staircase had Emma’s heart feel like it was thumping like a rabbit’s foot with nervousness and anticipation. It felt like a puzzle to not let the errant boards squeak, as if she would further hurt Killian by making any premature noise, and when it was at last over, she felt relief.
She found Killian sitting on the couch, a box of apple cider donuts in front of him. He didn’t seem to register her presence, apparently too caught up in her own thoughts to do anything other than look down towards his hand and prosthetic.
As the scent of cinnamon returned once more, something that Killian either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t care any longer, a fresh pang of guilt attacked her: guilt over causing this and guilt that her nerves still had power over her even as she attempted to do damage control.
Should I be doing this?
Yes, she pushed herself. She should. A lie got her into this mess, and the truth would be what would hopefully set things right.
“Hey,” Emma spoke softly. Killian blinked and turned to her. His mouth opened as if to speak, but ended up staying silent.
So Emma chose to fill the air instead.
“Can we talk?”
With his teeth pursed against his lips, Killian nodded and Emma sat down at his side.
“Are you mad?”
Killian let out a sigh, as if he was finally releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I…I don’t know. Confused, definitely. Hurt too. But- no,” he seemed to decide. “I’m not mad.”
For a moment, Emma desperately wanted to smile. Despite his suffering and what could’ve been justifiable anger, Killian had chosen to instead be kind to her and honest with himself.
Universe, this guy is way too good for me.
But she couldn’t, for with every word Killian spoke, Emma felt her guilt pound at her like the wood beneath a judge’s gavel, and despite knowing that Killian hadn’t intended it, the pain was insufferable.
She was willing to bet that his pain could match it. After all, what does one think when their soulmate lies to them about it? Rejected? Unwanted? Like a trapeze artist who just lost their safety net in the midst of the circus?
Emma knew those feelings all too well.
Never had she imagined she’d pass them along to someone else.
What do I do now?
“I’m sorry I lied, Killian,” Emma said. “The whole soulmate thing, it’s…” – how would she finish that? – “Complicated.”
Killian, despite Emma’s every expectation, gave her a soft smile. It was as thin as a piece of angel hair spaghetti, but it said all that it needed to about whether or not he’d forgive Emma.
“It could definitely be worse,” he commented, shrugging with a lightness in both his form and tone.
“Really?”
“Remember that big TV special about the soulmates who hated each others favorite smells and had to video chat just so they could stay together? I’d say this is a touch easier.”
He’s got a point there.
“You’ve got a point there,” she said, reflecting her thoughts perfectly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. A jackrabbit on methamphetamine could’ve moved slower than Emma’s thoughts. Killian had taken her lie and apology far better than Emma could’ve hoped for or even deserved.
But what would they do now?
Well, one thing was for certain: Emma needed to start explaining herself.
“I was going to tell you,” Emma explained. “Not during this trip, but I was planning on coming back to tell you.”
Killian nodded, apparently taking the information in.
“May I ask you something, Emma?”
Emma knew what was coming, but nodded just the same.
“Why don’t you want to be soulmates?” The utterance was just as predictable and heart breaking as she expected it to be, and knowing that it was coming didn’t help it feel any better. “Is it just the concept of soulmates in general, or is it me?”
“No,” Emma practically shouted. “It’s not you.”
Well, not fully, but I’ll get to that.
Killian snorted, probably at the sheer loudness of her outburst. “Good to know. But why then?”
Emma took a deep breath. She hadn’t told anyone about a good deal of this. Hell, some parts even Regina wasn’t privy to.
And now she was about to tell Killian every bit of it, warts and all.
Well, he deserves the truth.
“I grew up in the foster system.” Another deep breath came to pass before Emma realized it. “But you already knew that. What you don’t know is that my parents left me on the side of the road.” Killian gave a nod, something Emma surmised was the best he probably felt he could do without coming off as pitying.
She’d be lying if she said it went unappreciated.
“When I was fourteen, a woman named Ingrid and her husband fostered me for a bit, and she and I grew close. We went on walks to the park, amusement parks, the pier. There was hardly a weekend we weren’t together. I really thought she’d adopt me. But then, one day, a social worker came and just like that, I was off again, with hardly a goodbye from her.”
Killian made eye contact with Emma, signaling to his hand as if asking permission to use it to comfort her. Emma gave him permission with another light nod, and Killian delicately placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Emma,” he said. “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to stop.”
“It’s alright,” she said. “I want to. This is just…”
“A lot,” Killian finished.
“Yeah.” Emma took another deep breath. “Besides, you told me a bit of your story. The least I can do is give you a glimmer of mine.” Emma found herself able to smile at that homage to KIllian’s words. And just like Emma, Killian’s hand drifted to his heart.
Maybe we really are soulmates.
“I dealt with it and moved on – don’t get me wrong. After I made it through the foster system, I moved to a nice town, made friends, and got a good job. And then a month ago, I got a message from her on Facebook. She had looked me up and invited me to come to her house. So I went, hoping to get some answers.”
“And did you?”
Emma bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, the volume of her voice only a touch above a whisper. Killian gave her shoulder a small squeeze, and she melted into the touch.
“So what happened?” he prompted.
“I got right to the point and asked her why she gave me up.”
Killian gave a light smirk. “You’re the blunt type,” he excused when Emma gave him a raised brow.
Fair enough.
In keeping with that very same blunt nature, Emma continued. “She had a lot to say on the subject. Turns out she wanted me, but her husband didn’t. He had commitment issues, according to Ingrid. Foster care was their compromise, but the idea of actually adopting a kid? That was a different story. Ingrid loved me, but her soulmate Spencer didn’t and there was no way she’d be able to adopt me alone on an ice cream lady’s salary. And so I went back into the system.”
“I imagine that didn’t bode well for Ingrid and Spencer.”
“You’d be right,” she said. “After I left, apparently things went south with Spencer.”
“And they were soulmates,” Killian repeated. Emma nodded.
“Ingrid said she used to smell fresh mowed grass every day before she and Spencer split up, but unless the gardeners show up, she hasn’t had a whiff of it since, and when she does, she can barely stand it.” Killian moved his arm from Emma’s shoulder onto her arm and the warmth of a tender squeeze graced her skin again.
“Swan –”
Emma lifted a hand to stop Killian’s words early, silently begging him to let her keep going. Killian closed his mouth, and she continued on.
“Before I left her house last month, Ingrid warned me about soulmates and love and all of it. She told me soulmates were like two scoops of unlabeled ice cream. You could get two that complement each other perfectly, like vanilla or chocolate, or you could get two that go together like cilantro lime and carrot top.”
“Are those actually ice cream flavors?” Killian had a face that was just as silly as his question was.
Emma, at a loss for words, albeit for an entirely different reason, gave Killian a look that screamed of exasperation with another raised eyebrow for emphasis.
Killian’s expression lost its hold, though its kindness remained as it was. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“You’d be surprised what ice cream can taste like,” Emma said, indulging him. Then, remembering her point, she sighed. “But you get it right? I mean, we’re soulmates, sure, and you’re great, but I- with what happened- how can we know if we belong together? Soulmates usually work out, but sometimes they don’t and I don’t want to end up like Ingrid. And I know that it’s just one time, but it just got me thinking: What’s going to happen when things get tough? Right now even, we live six hours away from each other and I don’t even know if either of our careers would allow us to move. Just…with the odds against us like they are, it’s..” When she was finally done speaking, she took a deep breath, finally allowing an admittedly very patient Killian to take the floor.
“It’s just got you nervous,” Killian finished.
Emma gave him a light smile. “You know me well.”
“Better now that we’re really talking.”
“And what do you think of me now?”
“That you’re an intelligent woman, although you could stand to trust a bit more.” Emma massaged the bridge of her nose with her fingers and after a moment, her entire hand encapsulated her face as she openly groaned into it.
He’s not wrong.
“You also understand love in a different way than I do, and that’s not a bad thing,” Killian continued. “Thank you for telling me your story. And I get why you’re so skittish at the idea of us being soulmates.” Emma removed her hand from her face.
“I know you want one,” Emma said. “You wanted someone who’d always be with you and live up here on the farm and survive everything with you. I’m just not sure if I can be that. That’s why I kept quiet. I just wanted some time to figure out what to say after I told you the truth.”
“And it was just a hope, but hopes can change.”
“But how much of your hopes are you willing to bargain with? I don’t even know what the answer would be with me.”
It was true. Emma liked her affordable and established home in Storybrooke. She liked being close to Regina, the closest thing to family she had. And while her job certainly had its hit-or-miss days – though she reminded herself that no job didn’t have that – she liked it more than she didn’t and it was the first career she felt she’d ever been truly good at.
Even if things worked out with Killian, could she see herself giving all of that up? And if not, would there be room for compromise or would they just fall apart?
So much of her didn’t want to find that out.
And suddenly, she felt that same racking of nerves that she allowed to control her all throughout yesterday.
“Emma,” Killian called. She looked up at him.
Guess I got caught up in my own head.
“You’re getting caught up in that head of yours,” he mock chided. Emma took a deep breath.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re too good at that?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to,” he countered, smirking. “Emma, I honestly understand what you’re talking about.”
“You do?”
“More than you would think,” Killian commented. He bit his lip and Emma by now was more than well aware of his own tell of nervousness. “Remember when I told you about my parents?”
Emma nodded slowly. “Yeah. You said they were gone, but one more than the other?”
“Indeed I did,” he concurred. “My mother died when my brother and I were young. She said she and my father were soulmates and that she’d smell a freshly printed pound every day when he came home from work, just as he’d recount the smell of the sea whenever he was by her side to us.”
“It didn’t last?”
“No. Shortly after her death, he left us. Apparently, he loved the smell of pounds so much, that he made off with a briefcase of them one day, but forgot us on the way out. While I didn’t get to spend much time with my mother, I know she’d never have wanted that.”
“You’re right,” Emma agreed. “I can’t see anyone related to you who’d do that.”
“Then I’m happy to know I take more after her then. Anyway, Liam and I did a lot of traveling when we were on our own, and do you know what I discovered along the way?”
“Bloody Ploughmans?” Emma quipped.
“Smart ass,” Killian shot back, smiling all the while. “No, Emma. Soulmates. All kinds. Ones that worked out, and ones that didn’t. Ones that were divorced, widowed, went off into the sunset, and everything in between. And I realized what made the good ones good and the bad ones bad: Effort. Emma, even soulmates are still human, and no matter what, humans will do as humans do. What will make us work or not work will be the effort we give to each other. And I like you, Emma. I like you a lot. I promise that if we try, I’ll work with you night and day to build a future and a life together.”
Suddenly, Emma felt a weight on her hand, very much like the one she felt hours ago when Killian first discovered their shared destiny.
“So can we at least try?” he finished.
Emma took in what he said. She took in everything – about him, about her, about her past, about his past, about the smell of cinnamon that permeated every bit of air that they breathed, and about their hearts. And in between it all, a fight ensued from within her. Pulses nervous and infatuous lunged for each other like two wrestlers in a championship.
Finally, when she was at last done taking things in, and one set of emotions finally overcame the other, she took one last cinnamon-filled deep breath and gave her answer.
“Okay. Let’s try.”
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Emma ended up staying at Jones Farms for another three days. Together with Killian, they endured the remaining gusts and shocks of Hurricane Amelia and after it passed, began rebuilding the thankfully not-too-tattered parts of the farm side-by-side.
With every second that passed – through a greatly-needed nap following their heart-to-heart, a power outage, lots of conversations, and even another game of Monopoly – Emma felt herself feeling more comfortable with the idea of a soulmate, and thus, more in love with Killian as he showed her just the kind of soulmate he would be.
Killian had truly proven himself to be a man of his word, taking the initiative and bringing up uncomfortable subjects that Emma introduced that night such as how often they’d see each other and where they would live if things worked out.
When things worked out. That had been Emma’s push for herself. Because before the evening of their third day together, Emma had truly believed in a when for them.
And all throughout their days and nights, the rich aroma of cinnamon embraced her senses, only now, instead of queasiness that came from fears of the future, it brought on the same warmth one would get from a hearth, a symbol of the love she’d choose to let reside there in its place.
They would’ve continued, but dinner time had interrupted their bubble of isolation with something borderline unwelcome: A new client for Emma. Though she tried to give herself reasons to decline, the reality was that she couldn’t live on love alone.
Regardless of her decision, the idea was tempting.
But even Killian had supported the idea of returning to Storybrooke, and that all but solidified her answer.
“It’ll just go to prove what I already suspect,” he said. “We can overcome everything, especially a little separation.”
And so it was agreed, albeit reluctantly. Connections were made on every platform from their phones to their Facebook accounts and after a final connection in the bedroom, they were ready to leave each other.
Or as ready as they were ever going to be.
They stood in the front of Jones Farms – and Emma swore it was the spot where they’d first shook hands – as they said goodbye.
“I need to get back,” Emma moaned, more at herself than anyone else, especially Killian.
“I know,” Killian said, smiling sadly.
Emma found that it was so hard to pull away. There was a comfort with Killian, just like a spot of shade under an apple tree, and she didn’t want to lose it.
No. I won’t lose it.
“But I’ll be back soon,” she reminded both Killian and herself.
“And I’ll be waiting on bated breath until you do.”
Killian cupped Emma’s face and Emma leaned into the touch. Hardly another second passed before she closed the already small distance between their lips once more.
Like velcro being opened, Emma found it damn near impossible to separate from Killian, but it was done all the same, though their eyes stayed locked until Emma finally drove off and she was willing to bet that Killian’s remained on her for as long as her bug remained in view.
But despite that longing to be together once more and the pain that came with the wait until then, they relaxed, for they knew they’d be embracing the welcome smell of cinnamon soon.
#ffcs 2018#fallforcs#fall for captain swan#blind date with a fanfic#cs ff#cs ff au#cinnamon#raventherambunctious#theonceoverthinker
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"He’s always been more proud of Kurt and Kurt’s experience and how the audience reacted to that" - I think people sometimes wrongly assume that Chris would've gushed about Klaine beyond the initial period of storyline novelty, if only fans didn't develop this obsessive behavior. People assume this is what alienated him from the pairing. Of course he was frustrated with fan behavior, no question. But - and this is where your quote comes in - he also had major issues with the show itself. 1/
2/He made it clear - increasingly as the storyline went on - that he didn’t agree with the way it was written and he saw his character reduced in some way to one half of something. Many people think this may be part of what caused the falling out with Murphy. He kind of made a connection for himself between that issue and fan obsession - in several interviews he said he didn’t like the notion of teenagers thinking their first love is the be all and end all of their lives so they will forsake 2/3/ their goals because they are convinced their HS BF/GF is “the one”. I think he was going off the show’s underlying romanticizing of Klaine and the rest of HS couples in Glee as “end games”. I think he worried about this more than he should and may be overstated it, but that was part of his issues with the show. I also think when people make the distinction between him and Darren as personalities they mostly refer to the outgoing vs the introvert type. But I think what played into his concept 4/ of Kurt is his, for the lack of a better word, individualism. He wants to see people find their worth in themselves, without the need of someone else to validate them. I don’t think he formed this concept as a reaction to fan obsession with Klaine - he came to Glee with it already formed from HS (judging from his interviews and even the movie he wrote) - but fan obsession was sort of “confirmation” that some young people may make wrong decisions because of over-romanticizing first love.5/ I'm not saying he was right, or right 100%. His social media was flooded with the hard core fans - from the ardent to the most extreme - while casual viewers didn't make their presence so much. So that's what he responded to. Also, he has, again for lack of a better word, a moralistic streak in him which I think makes him worry more about what people do with their lives than maybe necessary - which is also what differentiates him from someone like Darren.
This is from last week as well- I got behind but it is so wonderful I had post it.
I didn’t follow Chris closely back in the earlier days so I didn’t see the earlier interviews, but everything you said fits in with what I have seen and heard from him. He was clearly bothered by the storyline- and who can blame him, it sucked. Without fanfiction, I would have been hard-pressed to season 6 but I had fanfanon Klaine to hang on to with their well-written, fully-conceived stories with 3-dimensional characters.
My introvert/extrovert comments regarding Chris and Darren are all based on their post-Glee behavior and a few interviews Chris gave over the years. But your point is well taken. Chris clearly takes his position as a role model very seriously and I agree with you that he probably had a more defined moral concern than Darren who just doesn’t see the world the same way Chris does . Thank you for adding this!
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