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caffeinated-beverage · 7 months

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CanLiet headcanons please 🙂😊💖✨️

1.what size bed does your muse typically prefer to sleep on? (ex. twin, full, queen, etc)

2. does your muse find it easier to sleep in a warmer room or a cooler room?

3. is your muse typical about where they sleep or can they fall asleep just about anywhere?

4. what position does your muse usually sleep in?

5. does your muse tend to prefer firmer mattresses or plushier ones?

6. does your muse snore? do they sleep talk or make any other sounds in their sleep?

7. is your muse a still or active sleeper? do they move around a lot in their sleep?

8. does your muse typically prefer sleeping by themselves or do they prefer the comfort of having another person in the room with them?

9. does your muse like sharing a bed, or do they prefer to have their own space?

10. how many pillows does your muse sleep with? are they comfortable with just one or do they like to be cozy?

11. what type of blanket does your muse prefer (standard blanket, quilt, comforter, weighted blanket, etc)?

12. how long does it typically take for your muse to fall asleep?

13. how often does your muse dream? are they mostly pleasant or is their sleep more likely to be filled with nightmares?

14. does your muse take any sleeping aids (ex. pills, melatonin supplements, etc)?

15. how many hours of sleep does your muse typically get?

16. does your muse wake up in the middle of the night often or can they sleep through the night?

17. does your muse like to take naps during the day? how often and for how long?

18. does your muse have insomnia? have they ever experienced insomnia? to what degree of severity?

19. has your muse ever been diagnosed with any sleep disorders?

21. does your muse wear a sleep mask?

22. is your muse sensitive to light while they sleep, or do they not mind it?

23. does your muse prefer to sleep in complete silence or hear some kind of background noise?

24. does your muse listen to music while falling asleep?

25. are their any conditions in where your muse absolutely cannot fall asleep (ex. bug in the room, temperature, smell, etc)?

26. does your muse have any odd or atypical sleeping habits?

27. what does your muse typically like to wear to bed? does it depend on the season/weather outside?

28. does your muse tend to wake up with bedhead?

30. how long does it typically take your muse to wake up in the morning? can they make it by without coffee or do they need caffeine?

31. does your muse wake up hungry or do they need some time to feel hungry?

32. what is your muse's mood like when they wake up? are they grumpy, cheerful, confused, etc?

33. when sharing a bed with someone else, is your muse a cuddler?

34. has your muse ever cried themselves to sleep?

35. where was the weirdest place your muse has fallen asleep?

36. has your muse ever fallen asleep or been extremely tired in a situation where it isn't safe to be (ex. while driving)?

I’M VERY SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE things came up and i got distracted! im very sorry for this! but, here they are, i hope u like them!

1.what size bed does your muse typically prefer to sleep on? (ex. twin, full, queen, etc) Their bed is two full-size beds pushed together to make a super mega jumbo monster-size bed, made of two different mattresses; a medium-firm mattress for Liet and his back problems, and a medium-soft mattress for Matty.

2. does your muse find it easier to sleep in a warmer room or a cooler room? Matty prefers to sleep in a warm room. Liet prefers to have the fan on max cooling, while also being wrapped up in a blanket burrito. Also, I feel I should add that Liet's feet are perpetually freezing, and he puts his ice-feet on Matthew's legs when sleeping :/

3. is your muse typical about where they sleep or can they fall asleep just about anywhere? Liet, yes, a little bit; but, his sleeping spots are not *all* just in his bed. His sleeping spots are also in the car, on the sofa, in his chair at the meetings, and in his hammock in the yard (though, it has to be warm and sun-shining for this). He also might fall asleep sunbathing occasionally, though.

4. what position does your muse usually sleep in? Liet like to curl up wrapped in nice, thick, blankets. Sometimes, he wants to be spooned. And, he prefers to be the little spoon. But, most of the time, Liet drifts off while resting on Matty’s chest. Matty likes to sprawl out, and also likes to hold Liet in his sleep.

5. does your muse tend to prefer firmer mattresses or plushier ones? Liet prefers medium-firm mattresses for his back problems, and Matty prefers medium-soft mattresses

6. does your muse snore? do they sleep talk or make any other sounds in their sleep? Matthew doesn’t really do any of that, but Liet on the other hand. Liet tends to talk in his sleep a lot, and often even whimpers, yells, and cries a bit. He also drools on his pillow, but like, it’s a more normal amount of drool, so Matty isn’t annoyed.

7. is your muse a still or active sleeper? do they move around a lot in their sleep? During normal dreams, no; they would be mostly just staying still and cuddling. But when Liet has a nightmare, it’s like he gets in a full-blown brawl with the blankets!

8. does your muse typically prefer sleeping by themselves or do they prefer the comfort of having another person in the room with them? Either way, Liet still has really really really bad nightmares, but having someone comfortable like Matthew there with him makes him feel a bit better. And, Matty also likes sharing a bed with Liet, even if he does have TERRIBLE, terrible, terrible, nightmares often.

9. does your muse like sharing a bed, or do they prefer to have their own space? Again, Matty doesn’t mind sharing his bed with Liet. And, Liet doesn’t mind sharing a bed with Matty. And again, either way, liet still has reallyyyyyy bad bad bad nightmares often times, but Matty makes him feel a bit better about them.

10. how many pillows does your muse sleep with? are they comfortable with just one or do they like to be cozy? They both love pillows.

11. what type of blanket does your muse prefer (standard blanket, quilt, comforter, weighted blanket, etc)? Liet has a plush weighted blanket. It is colored in mossy green, and reminds slightly of moss. It looks kinda like this (see image below), but thicker because it is weighted.

Though, while Liet absolutely LOVES his comfort moss (weighted) blanket, the one downside is that, when he is having a nightmare that causes him to struggle around a lot, he tends to get trapped underneath it in his sleep!

12. how long does it typically take for your muse to fall asleep? For Liet, it doesn’t actually take long at all! But for Matthew, he will be scrolling the internet for a couple hours at least with Liet already snoozing on his chest, before he falls asleep too.

13. how often does your muse dream? are they mostly pleasant or is their sleep more likely to be filled with nightmares? Well, as you know by now, Liet has bad bad BAD nightmares. Matthew on the other hand, has some really weird Alice-In-Wonderland-esque dreams.

14. does your muse take any sleeping aids (ex. pills, melatonin supplements, etc)? No, not really.

15. how many hours of sleep does your muse typically get? Um.. I don’t know.. If Liet is working still during night, he probably won’t sleep at all. But, often times when he does sleep, he doesn’t sleep well at all 🙁Matthew gets around 7-4 hours of sleep.

16. does your muse wake up in the middle of the night often or can they sleep through the night? Well, usually, Matthew sleeps well until morning, but Liet wakes up in the middle of the night really often, and in a PANIC too. 🙁

17. does your muse like to take naps during the day? how often and for how long? If Liet has a chance to nap and also feels like napping, then maybe, but only maybe. Matthew, on the other hand, naps quite often!

18. does your muse have insomnia? have they ever experienced insomnia? to what degree of severity? No, but they’ve had it before. Liet doesn’t have insomnia, he just suffers severe nightmares. 🙁

19. has your muse ever been diagnosed with any sleep disorders? Well, if it counts, Liet is diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety disorder and PTSD. And, most of his really really REAllY bad nightmares, come from PTSD. They’re PTSD nightmares. 🙁

20. does your muse have any pre-bedtime rituals or routines (like facial care, meditation, shower, medications, etc)? do they have any pre-bedtime activities like reading, playing video games, going on their phone, etc? Well yes, of course. Liet takes some mental health medicines, and then likes to have a scorching hot bath before bed, brush his teeth, clean his face, tie up his curly hair, use the toilet, and watch Matthew scroll on his phone for a little bit before falling asleep.

Matthew takes a shower, combs his hair, washes his face, brushes his teeth, uses the toilet, and then gets into bed to scroll his phone for a while while Liet rests on his chest and watches.

21. does your muse wear a sleep mask? No

22. is your muse sensitive to light while they sleep, or do they not mind it? I wouldn’t say so– though, Liet sometimes drapes an arm over his face to subconsciously block a little extra light from his eyelids.

23. does your muse prefer to sleep in complete silence or hear some kind of background noise? Liet likes a bit of white noises. Not to be cheesy or anything, but by “white noises”, I mean the sound of Matthew’s breathing & heartbeat. Matthew likes ASMR.

24. does your muse listen to music while falling asleep? No, neither of them do this. Matthew may occasionally listen to ASMR, though.

25. are their any conditions in where your muse absolutely cannot fall asleep (ex. bug in the room, temperature, smell, etc)? Liet cannot and will not sleep if he sees a roach or spider in the room, or if it has any heavy smell.

26. does your muse have any odd or atypical sleeping habits? Liet puts his ice-feet on Matthew’s legs, drools, talks, yells, yelps, cries, and fights with the blankets. And, Matthew is a hugger.

27. what does your muse typically like to wear to bed? does it depend on the season/weather outside? Pajamas. It depends on the season, but generally, Liet likes long-sleeved but loose and airy and cool pajamas, and Matthew likes warm pajamas.

28. does your muse tend to wake up with bedhead? YES. Liet especially.

29. does your muse have any routines they follow when they wake up (like makeup, facial care, stretching, shower, medications, etc)? do they have any activities they like to do immediately after waking up? Liet uses the toilet, brushes his teeth, washes his face, puts on his blobfish slippers Matthew gave him as a joke present on his birthday once (it’s ok, he gave him plenty of real, non-joke presents too), and goes to the kitchen to get breakfast. Most mornings, Liet just doesn’t feel like fighting with his hair though :/

Matthew also uses the toilet, brushes his teeth, washes his face, and goes to the kitchen to get breakfast. Except, he doesn’t wear funky blobfish slippers, and he also fixes his hair.

30. how long does it typically take your muse to wake up in the morning? can they make it by without coffee or do they need caffeine? NO.

31. does your muse wake up hungry or do they need some time to feel hungry?Yes. They both wake up hungry.

32. what is your muse's mood like when they wake up? are they grumpy, cheerful, confused, etc? Liet is just tired, but not grouchy. Matthew is a bit disoriented when he first wakes up.

33. when sharing a bed with someone else, is your muse a cuddler? YES.

34. has your muse ever cried themselves to sleep? Liet?? HELL YES. Matthew?? Sometimes.

35. where was the weirdest place your muse has fallen asleep? Liet fell asleep lying on a bed of moss while watching clouds once. Matthew fell asleep while playing the violin once; yes, WHILE he was playing the violin. Bro drifted off while drawing the bow across the strings.

36. has your muse ever fallen asleep or been extremely tired in a situation where it isn't safe to be (ex. while driving)? Tolys definitely fell asleep while floating in water, with some tiny little bait fish nibbling his toes & fingers. At least a few times. Luckily, he did not drown, but it scared the shit out of Mattie to see him snoozing while floating in the water.

#hetalia #hws #aph #hws lithuania #aph lithuania #hws canada #aph canada

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ms-m-astrologer · 8 months

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Transiting Vesta enters Cancer, pre-retrograde

Timeline (current events in bold)

Friday, August 18, 2023, 02:04 UT - transiting Vesta enters pre-retrograde shadow, 21°45’ Gemini

Wednesday, September 13, 2023, 23:22 UT - transiting Vesta enters Cancer

Friday, November 3, 2023, 01:52 UT - transiting Vesta stations retrograde, 7°30’ Cancer

Wednesday, December 20, 2023, 10:08 UT - transiting Vesta retrogrades back into Gemini

Thursday, February 8, 2024, 09:44 UT - transiting Vesta stations direct, 21°45’ Gemini

Sunday, March 31, 2024, 10:56 UT - transiting Vesta re-enters Cancer

Wednesday, April 24, 2024, 03:07 UT - transiting Vesta exits post-retrograde shadow, 7°30’ Cancer

-=-=-+-=-=-

Caveat: this probably won’t be a big deal for you, personally, unless Vesta is prominent in your birth chart (closely in aspect to the Sun, the Moon, &/or an angle).

Why, yes, the Lady Asteroid of Staying Home loves being in the sign of Staying Home! Unfortunately this ingress is a bit of a mulligan - necessitating a do-over - because Vesta has some unfinished Gemini business before she can really tackle the Cancer issues, next March. We’re still going to get some great ideas and insights; we just won’t be able to go anywhere with them.

Personal integration - we need to feel like we’re part of a family/tribe (biological or found); we identify with that particular role. If we don’t have that, we tend to withdraw emotionally - which just makes everything worse, really.

Devotional/Religious activities - going for a more traditional approach; following a familial/tribal tradition. We have a deep emotional need for connection to what I’ll call “Spirit.”

Scholastic interests - this is the one difficulty the scholarly side of Vesta finds in emotional Cancer. We may be too emotionally invested in a topic to see it clearly.

One’s work or path of service - we want to do this on the domestic front - “charity begins at home.” We may want to get more active in our immediate neighborhoods.

There are mostly flowing aspects - we’re going to have some great ideas, but they’ll need the further scrutiny of Vesta/Gemini to sort out.

Sunday, September 17 - Vesta/Cancer trine Ceres/Scorpio, 1°05’; Thursday, September 21 - Vesta/Cancer trine Saturn Rx/Pisces, 2°00’. A nice grand trine to start things off! This supports the “traditional” bent of Vesta/Cancer, as well as the emotional side.

Tuesday, September 26 - Vesta/Cancer square Sun/Libra, 3°01’. Difficulties with the “personal integration” piece. Our life purpose and our path of service/spirituality, are at cross purposes. We lose focus. Our familial/tribal roles don’t fit.

Saturday, October 7 - Vesta/Cancer square Mercury/Libra, 5°15’. And here, difficulties with the “scholastic interests” piece. Again, we lose focus. The image I’m getting is similar to school days when you really, really wanted to do your report on a particular topic, but someone else beat you to it.

Sunday, October 15 - Vesta/Cancer sextile Venus/Virgo, 6°25’. And the image I’m getting for this one is “pleasant quality time with the family,” especially the womenfolk. Interdependence is valued.

Sunday, October 22 - Vesta/Cancer trine Mars/Scorpio, 7°02’. Great for autonomy and individuality - but Vesta is really slowing down now (note degree position here and in the next two aspects).

Thursday, October 26 - Vesta/Cancer trine Mercury/Scorpio, 7°18’. We’re heavily focussed on, perhaps obsessed with, something. In water signs, this is more of a feeling than an idea.

Monday, October 30 - Vesta/Cancer trine Sun/Scorpio, 7°28’. The last aspect before Vesta’s retrograde station on November 2. We may feel (water signs) that we finally have our acts together, only to have to backtrack - or we have a vision of what we need to work on during Vesta’s time retrograde.

#Astrology #Transiting Vesta enters Cancer #Ms M astrologer

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 13: Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2807

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Today’s story was originally written as part of my Fluffy Friday’s collection. It was written just after 5a aired, and is now more of a post 5b canon divergence. Disappointed that no one seems to be in the Christmas spirit, Henry inadvertently casts a curse that will either spread Christmas cheer…or drive everyone nuts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CS genre: future fic (post 5b)

The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.

~Buddy the Elf~

Emma woke abruptly, hand going immediately to her racing heart. It had been six months since their return from the Underworld, but she still had the dream with frightening regularity: She had to watch Killian die again, sacrificing himself for all of them. They made it to the Underworld, but just as they were about to reach Killian, he slipped from her grasp, falling farther and farther away from her until he was lost to her for good.

She swiveled her head to the side and then sighed in relief. He lay there beside her, sleeping peacefully, the ghost of a smile on his lips. She still felt the tears gather at the thought that the reality had been far from her nightmare. She had found Killian; she’d brought him home. They’d married as soon as it could be arranged; neither wanting to wait another second to make the vows that would join them together as one forever.

Emma smoothed the unruly hair away from her husband’s face, and then bent down to kiss him, needing to reassure herself that he was alive and well and here with her. She’d meant it to be just a quick kiss, a peck, but the moment her lips met his, the familiar fire that was ever-present between them fanned into flame.

He groaned deep in his chest and breathed her name, hand coming to tangle in her hair, mouth slanting to meet hers, to deepen the kiss, before he was even fully awake. The kiss went on for long moments, becoming more all-consuming with each passing moment, but finally Killian pulled away, breathing heavily.

“That was quite the pleasant way to wake, my love,” he said, his voice still gravely from sleep. “To what do I owe this show of affection?”

She stroked his face, smiling down at him, not wanting to mar the moment with talk of her dream. She shrugged. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

He gave her a searching look, his brow furrowing in obvious concern. “It was the dream again, wasn’t it, Swan?”

She flopped back onto her side of the bed with a sigh. The man was too perceptive for his own good. “Yeah. Six months back home and safe and everything, and I still have the dream. I just, I don’t know, I needed to reassure myself that you’re here and safe and all of that.”

He raised up on one elbow, looking down at her, running his fingers through her messy curls. After a moment he turned from concerned husband to dashing rapscallion. “I assure you I am, Emma. If you, however, need to be convinced, I’ve more than a few thoughts on how to put your mind at ease.”

Emma felt the desire coil deep within at the heated look in his eyes and she smiled up at him before bringing his mouth back to hers. “Yeah, I think I could use a little convincing, pirate.”

This kiss was all heat and white hot passion from the start. Emma felt Killian’s hand move to the buttons on her pajama top, and things were about to get really interesting, when suddenly their bedroom door slammed open.

“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year,” came Leroy’s loud voice. A moment later, the man himself—along with his usual grumpy scowl—came into view.

“What the hell?” Killian growled as he rolled off of Emma and shot the dwarf a look that could kill.

Emma hastily re-buttoned her pajama top and then sat up, looking at the people pouring into her bedroom—the dwarfs, Regina and Robin, Granny and Ruby, her parents, Henry—the latter three looking extremely uncomfortable at the scene they’d burst in upon. “You guys ever think about, I don’t know, knocking before you barge into a person’s house? And their bedroom?”

“No time, sister,” Grumpy said with a scowl. “Seems like we’ve been cursed again and we’re gonna need the savior.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“Wait,” Emma said, holding up a hand and looking at her family and friends now surrounding her booth at Granny’s. “You’re telling me that Santa, Santa Claus is real too? And that he cursed us? How does this even happen?”

Ruby walked past singing “Santa baby”, while in the far corner Archie and Marco began a rousing chorus of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the year.” Henry joined Emma and Killian in their booth.

“Yeah…” he said, glancing aside. “I, um…I think this is my fault. I kind of wrote a letter to Santa and, well, this happened.”

“You…you wrote a letter to Santa asking him to curse us so that we all break out into Christmas songs every few moments?” Emma asked, rolling her eyes as the rest of the dwarfs surrounded Leroy and started singing “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.”

“Kid, this’s got to be the most annoying curse ever.”

“You’re telling me,” Granny groused, stopping by their booth on the way to serve a couple in the back who’d just begun serenading each other with Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and looking very displeased about it. “If I have to hear Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer one more time, the blue-plate special might start coming with a side of poison.”

“Oh please,” Regina said with an eye roll worthy of a queen, “you think that’s bad? Roland’s been singing The Twelve Days of Christmas more or less non-stop for the past twenty-four hours. I’m about to go all Evil Queen on everyone.”

“Well, lad,” Killian said, fixing Henry with a stern, fatherly look, “your mother asked you a question. What have you to say for yourself? Why did you go to this ‘Santa’ fellow and request a curse?”

Henry sighed deeply. “I didn’t request a curse,” he said. “I just. I don’t know, I wanted everyone to get a little Christmas spirit, you know, after you all decided to skip Christmas and everything. I didn’t want Santa to curse you! I just thought we needed all the peace and love and joy and family and all that holiday stuff we could get after what we’ve been through. I asked Santa to help me think of a way to make everyone see that we need Christmas more than ever this year.”

“The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown, of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown,” Ashley and Thomas sang—in perfect harmony—as they stopped by the table. “Emma! You’ve got to help us stop this!”

“Alright everybody,” Emma said, bringing her hands to her temples. “Just…let me think for a minute.”

It was true what Henry said; they had made a town-wide decision to skip Christmas this year. It had been decided that after everything everyone had been through lately—between Zelena and the Queens of Darkness and then both Killian and her becoming Dark Ones and then Rumple’s renewed betrayal, and then going through hell to bring Killian back—that they deserved a break, a chance to just catch their breath and renew their strength before the next villain showed up (or Rumple found a way back from the Underworld where they’d left him). There was no doubt the new year would bring a new curse or villain or crisis of some type. Last thing they all needed was the hustle and bustle and stress of the Christmas season.

Henry had been disappointed, of course, but she’d promised to make it up to him. He’d seemed to accept it graciously enough after that, and Emma had hoped he accepted the town’s decision.

Guess not, if he was writing letters to Santa requesting Yuletide backup.

“Not to state the obvious,” Killian said, settling his arm around Emma’s waist, “but there is a tried and true method for breaking curses. Has anyone thought to try True Love’s Kiss?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” David said turning toward Mary Margaret.

Emma watched as her father bent toward her mother, as Robin took Regina in his arms, and then felt her own true love nudge her with his hook. “Shall we do our part as well, love?”

“Yeah, I think we’d better,” Emma said, smiling up at him. She took his face into her hands and pulled him down to her. This kiss was warm and sweet as ever, sending a rush of her true love magic rushing through her system—but no pulse of electricity; no waves of rainbow-tinted light.

As the strains of Mulan singing Do You Hear What I Hear filled the otherwise quiet diner, Emma came to realize they were dealing with a foe more formidable than any of them had expected.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

It was a rather demoralized group that trudged back into Granny’s a couple hours later. Sleepy sang “Deck the Halls” in between yawns, but otherwise silence reigned. They’d yet to find a cure for their musical malady.

This “Christmas” was an odd custom, Killian thought to himself as he slid into a booth and then promptly laced his fingers with his wife’s. It was purported to be a happy time, full of magic and merriment, but the residents of Storybrooke regarded it nearly as drudgery.

Then there was this “Santa Claus” fellow. Per Swan, he was said to be the very embodiment of the Christmas spirit—both jolly and benevolent.

Having just met the man, he could vouch for the jolly part, but benevolent…that was far more up for debate.

They’d no more than determined True Love’s Kiss was not a solution to this particular curse than Belle had burst into the diner, book in hand (singing “Jingle Bell Rock” under her breath—an odd song, that).

“I think I know who Santa is in Storybrooke!” she’d announced. “You know that guy, Kris who runs the North Pole Ice Rink? It’s got to be him! Think about it, he’s got a long white beard, his laugh sounds like ‘ho, ho, ho’ and he’s always warning trouble-makers that he’s keeping a list and checking it twice.”

“That does sound like Santa,” Henry agreed.

“Now that we’ve presumably found our villain, what do we propose to do about the situation?” Killian asked, idly caressing Emma’s hand with his thumb.

“I don’t think he’s a villain, exactly,” Belle said, brow furrowed. “Maybe…if we just, I don’t know, asked him nicely he’ll lift the curse for us.”

Regina tutted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure jolly old St. Nick’s just going to do what we want because we asked nicely.”

Emma sighed deeply. “Well it’s worth a shot. Don’t hear anyone else coming up with a better solution.”

And so they’d walked to the ice rink and discovered that Kris Kringle was indeed the Santa fellow they were in search of. They’d walked in the door of the establishment to be greeted by a large number of very small men—elves, Swan had called them—all singing “Here Comes Santa Claus” as a man with a long white beard, rosy cheeks, a rotund belly and a permanent look of good humor came forward to greet them.

Most unfortunately, the Evil Queen had been quite correct. While Santa had laughed merrily, he’d flat out refused to accede to their request, insisting the terms of the curse were quite absolute. The compulsive singing would only come to an end when the town had achieved sufficient Christmas spirit and come to accept and embrace the holiday at hand.

And so, thwarted again, they’d returned to the diner to plot a new strategy.

“Hark the herald angels sing,” the fairies began from the other side of Granny’s.

“Not to state the obvious,” Leroy began, “but True Love’s Kiss didn’t work; confronting Santa didn’t work; we’re about to strike out.”

“How about you keep your unhelpful comments to yourself, dwarf?” Regina snarled.

“Watch it sister,” Leroy returned, “you can take your attitude and shove it up your…”

Emma slashed the air with her hand; just in time, it would seem. The queen seemed on the point of forming a fireball. “Not helping guys.”

Killian wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and she slumped against him with a sigh. “Perhaps we didn’t get the result we hoped from our confrontation with Santa Claus, but it is possible that we obtained a solution to our problem nonetheless.”

Emma turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he answered, smiling down at her. “Santa did offer us a way to break the curse. We simply need to embrace the spirit of this Christmas. Perhaps it wasn’t what we planned, but it would seem the choice is simple: either we follow the demands of the curse, or we learn to live with the constant barrage of musical offerings from this town’s citizens.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s

“Just a little to the left, David” Mary Margaret said, stepping back and tilting her head to the side. “No, back to the right, but just a tiny bit…there! Perfect.”

“Okay folks,” Leroy said, grin on his face, “ready to light it up?”

A chorus of cheers greeted him as he put the plug into the socket.

Emma grinned as she heard the delighted gasp of her pirate husband who was holding her close to him on their couch. “Swan!” he breathed. “You’ve the daftest customs in your land; who would think to bring a tree inside and decorate it? I must admit, however, that draped with the baubles and festive lights it’s a wonder to behold.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek before settling back with her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, it certainly is.”

It had been decided that Killian’s idea was the only real solution to the town’s problem. Regina and Leroy had objected at first, insisting that it set a bad precedent, bowing to Yuletide terrorists, but in the end, they’d been overruled.

Henry had been so excited, he’d immediately started planning, calling the new mission “Operation Reindeer”. How could Emma deny her son when he was so enthusiastic? And really, what was so bad about Christmas anyway? Why had they all been so insistent not to so much as put up a string of Christmas lights?

In the end, getting into the Christmas spirit herself, Emma had offered the Swan-Jones house as a meeting place and begun planning a Christmas party, the likes of which Storybrooke had never seen.

Emma smiled, burrowing deeper into her husband’s side as her mom and Regina put the last touches on the tree. She had to admit, this was kind of…nice. There’d been a spirit of joy and anticipation that had settled over the whole town as everyone pitched in to show Christmas that when they invited someone in and held a party in its honor, they did a proper job of it.

As the talking, laughing and merry-making continued long into the night, Emma suddenly realized something. “Killian, I haven’t heard a single person sing a carol in about three hours!”

He kissed her softly. “It would appear you’ve broken yet another curse, love, though I’d never doubt you. There’s not a curse in any realm that’s a match for you.”

“Not me,” Emma said, looking around at her family and friends, “us. All of us.”

“Be that as it may,” Killian said, affixing a sprig of mistletoe onto his hook and holding it above them. “You’re still bloody brilliant. Now, if I’m to understand correctly, there is a tradition in this realm related to the weed on my hook. In the spirit of Christmas, I believe we really must comply.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Most assuredly.”

She laughed, reaching up with both arms and pulling him down to her. He came more than willingly, his lips curved into a delighted smile as she thoroughly and enthusiastically fulfilled the requirements of standing beneath the mistletoe.

“So, pirate,” she whispered, lips still against his. “If I remember right, we were in the middle of something when the town burst in on us this morning. What do you say we wrap this party up and get back to that?”

His smile turned decidedly wicked. “I’d say of all the brilliant ideas you’ve had today, that is most definitely your best.”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #santa claus is coming to town

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deleteddewewted · 2 years

Note

Hello, could we get a very frustrating fic that ends well aidjwksj

A Sweet with reader pining for Monoma and him pining for them too. He suspects that they like him but then- "oh, why would they like me anyway?" Reader finally starts to give up, and Monoma's hurt (why am I hurt? They never felt that way anyway.)

Then- idk, please make it end well TT

Thank you, and good luck for the event too! I hope you're having a great week <3

Sweet: Starcrossed

Monoma x Gn! Reader

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event (May 21 - June 26)(JJK, MHA, KNY Characters Only!)❤️🖤

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event Masterlist❤️🖤

W: Angst, Low self-esteem/self-worth, Eventual Resolution

If you'd like to support my work (Check my Ko-fi and Throne!)

For however cocky Monoma was, he never really felt like he was all that special. He would say he was because he knew it would get people to react but he truly didn’t feel like he was anything noteworthy. He had friends, mostly Kendo, Pony, and Tetsutetsu but that was because they would at least let him get away with his eccentrics without complaining most of the time. Did he want to be the annoying bastard that they knew him as? No, but it also wasn’t like he wasn’t naturally annoying either. He made it his duty to use his natural irritating personality to make the lives of the people whom he disliked, or in his word hated a miserable existence. Was it bad? Not in his eyes. He loathed people with “heroic” quirks and it was enough of a motivator to challenge anyone and everyone who looked at him sideways. So, imagine his surprise when he noticed that not only had Shinsou, his new best friend, transfer into the hero course but also an international student join the course in their second year. You were naturally a new rival to him since you got into the A course but he couldn’t help but feel curiosity when it came to your quirk. You didn’t start arguments, didn’t fall for any of his insults, and didn’t talk back when he purposefully annoyed you. You weren’t angry when he would touch you and take your quirk for himself. There was never a single frown from you, well, you did get upset with him when he talked bad about Jirou’s ears, but besides that, you never got upset with him. He found himself irrationally obsessed with you.

He followed you around and began to make small talk with you to see what made you tick. You were pleasant, your voice flowing nicely into his ears and your laughter making his heart flutter. He couldn’t imagine being in the same class as you. If he was, he would fail because he’d be too distracted looking and listening to you. He envied the time that others got to spend with you and it did things to his heart when he’d see you laugh at others’ quips and jokes. His face feels warm when you look directly at him and give him a quick smile. He craves time with you, wants to hold your hand in his, to touch you in such a gentle manner that he himself never really received.

“Monoma?” You walked into the empty classroom per the notes request and found Monoma fidgeting with his tie. He panicked when he saw you, the afternoon lighting making you look relaxed.

“I- I wanted to ask you something.” He tried to push the words out but the bell rang and you both had to head out.

He wondered what the outcome would have been if he got the chance to confess what he felt. Maybe you would accept his feelings but the more he thinks about it the more he agrees with his self-doubt that you would never get with someone like him. He thought back on what you would do together and felt like he’d concocted much of the things he noticed. Maybe you hadn’t been smiling at him during joint training? You probably weren’t even enjoying your lunch since he would talk so loud beside you. He probably wasn’t the person you were yearning for.

Yeah, he could be very dramatic but he also knew when to stop pushing. He knew he’d never be as ripped as Kirishima or defined as Bakugou. Hell, even he could admit that Shinsou was even more attractive than him and Shinsou had eyebags that made him look corpse-like. And, then there were the girls. Kendo was tough as she was pretty, Pony was adorable, Uraraka was very close to you and she was the cutest one. And yet, even with his intense skincare ritual, he wasn’t able to feel flawless like the others. He felt improper when he was around you.

You felt lonely once Monoma began to ditch lunch in favor of going who knows where. You grew to enjoy his company and even his extravagant personality. You enjoyed it, it made you happy to share some time with him. You couldn’t really describe it but his person just managed to do something to you. Your heart would start to race and when he’d get up to insult your classmates, you couldn’t help the need to calm him down. You made yourself the class A Monoma repellent, and you did it by choice. You liked having an excuse to talk with him and to touch him. God, you just realized how much you touched him. You would grab his arm and link it with your own, you could get away with teasing him back and flustering him too. You were the exemption to any of his rules and it made you feel special in a way you never thought you could feel. When he had asked you to meet him in the empty classroom, you hoped that he was going to say what you’ve been fantasizing he’d say to you. A confession. Something sweet and dramatic where he declares he likes you more than just a friend. But that never came. He pulled away, his no longer meeting yours and his hands no longer grabbing onto your arm.

It was hard to accept that Monoma didn’t like you back and that he preferred to be away from you, but your heart still belonged to him. He had you wrapped around his silly little finger. You tried making efforts. Maybe that would show him that you wanted something more. You brought him treats, mainly muffins, and macaron because you knew how much he liked his sweets. You trailed him, spoke to him, and gave him the space that you knew he sometimes wanted but nothing really brought him back to the person that you once knew. He didn’t bother bothering your class anymore and be it that your class was happy about not needing to deal with Monomas antics they still felt your absent joy. So you let him go.

Monoma watched the distance increase and it drove him mad knowing that you were there and so close to him. He knew that his time was running out, that he might never get the chance to say something to you, so he did what felt right and cornered you. He was red with embarrassment, not only because he kabedon you but you were both in a populated hallway with your classmates staring at the sudden banging noise he made.

“Y-Y/n, i- can we talk?” He didn’t wait for your response and pulled you away towards a secluded corner where no one would bother you two. His hand was covered in sweat which made it uncomfortable when he laced his hand with your own. Monoma cleared his throat and licked his lips before speaking.

“I-I wanted to address the growing rift between us and I wanted to make my feeling clear.” His face was beet red but he continued.

“I like you…a lot. I want to hold your hand and kiss your cute nose. I want to…kiss you and hold you and know that you’re with me.” His voice became soft as his hand slipped out of yours and found its way towards your hip. It felt comforting, the pressure of his hand acting as a way to ground you and distract you from your racing heart.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask you is if you’d be with me as my partner. Be my anchor, my co-side character.” He let out an amused exhale and smiled at you with downcasted eyes.

You gently grab his chin and made him look at you. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, periwinkle to be exact, and the amount of shy adoration that existed in them. You brought him close to you, his nose making contact with your own as you basked in the closeness. He felt homey and safe to you. No insults were thrown and no cruel comments on someone’s performance were made, just blissful silence between you both. You pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek before tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’d like that. I want to be your co-side character. Only with you, Neito.” You both missed the small gasps and cheers that your classmates let out when they caught you both holding each other. Kendo and Pony sighed in relief while Uraraka suggested date ideas. It didn’t matter to you nor to Monoma but it felt nice to know that the people around you were supportive. You took in his scent and melted when you picked up on the cologne you bought for him back when you were both getting to know each other. It all felt right and you couldn’t wait for the other surprises that would come with being with him, your co-side character.

#monoma x reader #monoma x you #monoma x y/n #monoma neito #ask #dd answers #dd speaks #mha #bnha #my hero academia #monoma neito x reader

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brokenbones-singsongs · 1 year

Text

Another instance of bored out of my mind at work

1. What have you eaten today?

A banana

2. Who was your last kiss with? Was it pleasant?

Phil. I guess so. Just told him goodbye before work.

3. What color shoes did you last wear?

Black and white checkered vans

4. Who has made you laugh the hardest in the last week?

Myself

5. What is your favorite scent?

Vetiver

6. What is your favorite season? Why?

Fall. Everything is crispy and gold and orange and it’s spooky season

7. Can you do a handstand or cartwheel?

Both

8. What color are your nails?

Just natural for noq

9. If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be?

A freckle

10. What is something you find romantic?

A lot of things. Mostly someone keeping track of all of the little things. How you take your coffee, what food you like from certain restaurants, etc.

11. Are you happy?

I am

12. Is there anything in particular making you happy or sad?

A lot of things in both departments.

13. Dogs or Cats?

Dogs

15. Which do you prefer:a museum, a night club, the forest or a library?

Between a museum and a library

15. What is your style?

Whatever’s comfy. I wear a lot of simple flowy things. Leggings and jean jackets, cardigans, etc.

16. If you could be doing anything you like right now, what would it be? I’d still be in my bed asleep.

17. Are you in a relationship or single?

Engaged.

18. What makes you attracted to the person you like right now?

He’s patient with me, calm, levelheaded, very smart, takes care of himself, a wonderful dad, he’s attentive, he loves me…

19. If you could replace your partner/best friend with a celebrity of your choice, would you? Who with?

I wouldn’t replace her. I don’t think anyone could. But I would still absolutely love to be friends with Emma stone

20. Are you holding on to something you need to let go of? If so then what?

A laundry list of things. The biggest one is thinking I’ll ever get any closure from keegan.

21. How did you celebrate last Halloween?

We didn’t.

22. Have you recently made any big decisions?

I quit my job.

23. Were you ever in a school play?

A few! I loved every single one of them.

24. What movie would you use to describe your life?

There’s none that really accurately portray this mess. I really resonated with perks of being a wallflower when it came out though.

25. Is there something you have dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

I want to own my own coffee shop. I don’t because it’s expensive.

26. Complete this sentence, “I wish I had someone with whom I could share…”

I think I actually have everyone I could ever want to share anything with in my life now.

27. What are two things that irritate you about the same sex?

The catty need to tear each other down and insult things we can’t help about ourselves.

The few of us who bow down to the patriarchy and think there is no need for equality and women’s rights.

28. What are two things that irritate you about the opposite sex?

Their inability to understand that No is a full and complete sentence

They think only with their dicks

29. What is the best thing that has happened to you this week?

I found a place full of cute ass clothes that actually fit normal sized women.

30. What is something that makes you sad when you think about it?

All of the hard decisions I’ve made that have hurt others even if I was doing the best I could with what I had.

31. How long was your longest relationship?

Four years.

32. Have you ever been in love?

More than once

33. Are you currently in love?

I am

34. Why did your last relationship end?

Lmao where to begin…

35. What jewelry are you wearing right now, and where did you get it?

Earrings I think I bought myself and an engagement ring from my fiancé via Etsy.

36. When was the last time you cried and why?

Yesterday over a TikTok

37. Name someone pretty.

My best friend 🥰

38. What did you receive last Valentines Day?

I didn’t.

39. Do you get jealous easily?

I don’t like to think so but….

40. Have you ever been cheated on?

I have a sneaky suspicion but I’ve chosen not to try and find out.

41. Do you trust your partner/best friend?

100%

42. Ever had detention?

A few times

43. Would you rather live in the countryside or the city?

The city

44. What do people call you?

Sierrah, Twin, Mama, Sweetie, Babe, Watson, Dr. Watson, Sissy, Friend, Girl Child

45. What was the last book you read?

Empire Of Storms by Sarah Maas

46. How big of a nerd/dork are you?

I’m a giant nerd about certain things

47. What kind of music do you listen to?

A little of everything, but most of my playlist is indie alternative

48. How tall are you?

5’ 2.5”

49. Do you like kids?

I do

50. Favorite fruits?

Watermelon, cantaloupe, purple grapes

51. Do you wear jeans or sweats more?

Leggings

52. What’s your earliest memory?

My fourth birthday when I was given Ricky raccoon and had a cupcake train as a birthday cake

53. Ever had a poem or song written about you or to you?

There’s a song out there…

“Do you wanna run? Do you wanna drive? Do you wanna get away and start over? Do you wanna begin again…”

54. Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Equal amounts of both

55. Do you have a collection of anything?

Miniature pianos, playbills, pins, different editions of Peter Pan, You Are Here mugs from Starbucks…

56. Do you save money or spend it?

Both.

57. What would your dream house be like?

One of those timeless homes with a big green grassy yard and towering oak trees like in the movies we watched as kids.

58. What top 5 things make you the angriest?

Infidelity, lies, abusive people, rampant stupidity, being micromanaged

59. What top 5 things always brings a smile to your face?

My son, any time spent with my best friend, snow, Broadway shows, seeing the mountains.

60. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Save the dog. I’ll get another job.

61. 72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

I would tell everyone. I’d spend the rest of my days trying to do everything I ever wanted and I’d bring along anyone who would be willing to go with me. I don’t think I’d be afraid. Death is but the next great adventure.

62. Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

That squishy organ in our chests.

63. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I’v always wanted to see Paris

64. Do you like the beach?

I di

65. Ever sleep on the couch or a bed with someone special?

Both

66. Do you have a middle name? If so what is it?

Marie

67. Do you talk to yourself?

All the time

68. Describe your hair.

It’s very fine, I have a shit ton of it, and it’s currently 15 shades of red/brown/blonde/caramel

69. What is the meaning of life.

To live

70. What is your ideal partner like?

I’m with him and I explained above what I love about him.

71. Do you want to get married?

I am next February.

72. Do you want to have kids?

I have one, undecided on whether we’ll try for another.

73. Like or dislike your family?

I like some, dislike others

74. Are you Chunky or Slim?

Leaning more chunky these days

75. Would you consider yourself smart?

Yes

76. What would you change about your life?

I wouldn’t. I mean I would like to be be financially secure but that’s it

77. Religious or Not?

78. You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

This would never happen

79. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

80. Does anyone regularly (other than family) tell you they love you?

Every single day

81. If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now?

We’d be asleep

82. So, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3AM; do you let them in? He lives with me so yeah

83. Do you like when people play with your hair? It’s my favorite thing

84. Do you like bubble baths? I LOVE them

85. Have you ever been pulled over by a cop?

Twice

86. Have you ever danced in the rain?

More than once

87. Do you trust anyone with your life?

Several people

88. What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

Fuck.

89. If money wasn’t an issue, what top 10 places would you travel to? (You get to stay at each place for a week)

Seattle, NYC, Australia, Paris, Switzerland, Norway, Italy, Ireland, England, hawaii

90. How was your day today?

Quiet

91. Play an instrument?

A little piano

92. Describe the what you think of the ocean.

I think it’s beautiful and a force to be reckoned with. Spending time in front of it always feels like a reset button on life.

93. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts?

Both.

94. Honestly, are things how you wanted them to be?

No, but things are good. I’ve given up on trying to plan the future. It is never really what we think it will be.

95. Do you have a mean bitchy scary side?

I do, but I rarely let it out

96. When are you vulnerable?

It just depends

97. How much free time do you have?

No much

98. Do you like to go hiking?

Very much

99. Odd or Even Numbers?

Even

100. Would you ever go sky diving, bungee jumping , cliff diving, wing suit gliding, parasailing, snorkeling, or other extreme activities?

All of the above and more

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dollypardonne · 2 years

Text

(19:19:59): there were many wonderful ways that we were able to understand each other… and find out about each other.

(19:20:08): we got to know each other little by little, living very close in the same apartment complex.

(19:20:14): he would help me with things and i would see him, and i would think, “what a gentleman” and he was a gentleman. very handsome and manly as well. it was little by little that i got to know him. there were times when all we did was say hello to each other across the halls then one day, i invited him to a party and i had heard so much about him. people respected him, and he was good to everybody. he knew. people he worked with all adored him. and well…

(19:21:47): sorry.

(19:21:55): he still is good. in some way.

(19:21:56): something changed, but he still is a good husband… father.

(19:22:01): maybe not. not so much a father. neither am i as a mother anyway.

(19:22:03): not so sure as a colleague either.

(19:22:07): it’s something so important. being attracted to him, finding people respected him. i came to do so myself even when i hadn’t been working with him yet.

(19:22:15): i was an activist, originally. i was heavily concerned with alien domination and korea’s state as a colony. it was an ideology that our family had and i upheld it for years, mostly as a teenager. other than that, i campaigned for women and girls forced into sexual slavery. i was inspired by journalists. i wanted to be one at some point. then there were fraudulent ones who also inspired me to want to be the honest one.

(19:23:00): my father… he was a farmer. he was told he would have a better life in japan… and well, that didn’t happen.

(19:23:09): although one good thing did happen to him. he met my mother. they had me, my brothers and sisters.

(19:23:16): he would also tell me i was a blessing.

(19:23:19): we didn’t have the luxury to sit down, and bond, and talk much. i had to grow up on my own… but it’s not something i regret. my parents worked day and night to feed me and my four siblings. i worked too. if i hadn’t, i wouldn’t have been able to attend college. our family took pride in being hardworkers.

(19:24:32): but in college, i didn’t end up studying journalism. not even professional writing.

(19:24:36): it sounds like i failed but in reality, science research turned out to be what i wanted to do. i found that it was a definitive way to help people, especially when i’ve dried out of resources to keep protesting.

(19:24:47): i had already moved to live on my own by then. my parents would still support me. i honestly tried to refuse… but they kept sending them to me. it was a bit of a mistake to let them know where i lived.

(19:24:57): kidding aside, i gave them gifts in return. perhaps you could say that was the stepping-stone to getting closer to tatsuo. the things he would help me carry were those same gifts. there came a time when he was already joining me in my shopping. he said it was to make things convenient for me. rather than carrying them all the way home and using public transportation, he would drive me home…

(19:25:23): it was rather sweet of him, knowing he was only a friend at the time.

(19:25:26): it was so very easy to look forward to being together. he was a pleasant man. reputable and kind. we had the same fascination for science and he cared about justice, too. we had about the same interests. our love affair just blossomed the more we saw each other, the more we were together.

(19:25:56): after a short period of time, we became engaged and had a very small, intimate wedding with just family and very close friends. the friends we continued to have for the rest of our lives. then came two adorable little kids. a girl, hamuko, then a boy, kazuo.

(19:26:17): my husband just… adored them.

(19:26:19): i felt i just gave him a wonderful life.

(19:26:22): we worked alongside each other. we were a team, both at home and at work. over time, we drifted from our children… and it does hurt me deeply, but me and tatsuo were always with each other. nothing could stop us…

(19:26:39): it might be that very reason fueling his guts. the fact that i always supported him in everything. i did because he did with me as well. but… lately, it’s just gone overboard. it’s as if i don’t know him anymore.

(19:27:07): and i’m terrified.

(19:27:08): he’s a powerful man, above all things to note about him. he would stop at nothing, even just on his own.

(19:27:13): i know the moment i oppose to him or express any kind of negative feelings towards the direction he’s taking our research into… is the moment he wages war.

(19:27:21): it’s just something i can’t live with.

(19:27:23): i don’t know what to do.

(19:27:30): for the first time in my life, i feel utterly helpless. if anyone reaches this… please, help.

#vocieover: minako #logs: minako

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lifewithoutmeds · 9 months

Text

august 7, 2023

another pretty bad month.

there were a couple days i think, maybe before the camping trip in which i felt the mildest of lifts, probably when i sat down to write my last entry, but it’s been bad since.

quick recap of the last few weeks july 21-23: camping with rhiannon. she picked me up friday morning, we packed up her car, and head up to bishop. stopped at the grocery outlet for a ton of groceries, some beer, firewood, etc., got a sandwich at Schat’s, and browsed the bishop visitor center (and i picked up two new graphic t shirts.) it was very hot, like in the 90′s or 100′s, but was fortunately a bit cooler at our site (like maybe mid 80′s.) we set up and spent the next couple days chilling/fishing by rock creek lake (me fishing and rhiannon in her hammock), sitting around the fire, and mostly just feeling alternately hot and bug-bitten. i cried when we turned the bend to rock creek lake and i remembered very specific spots where i’d had conversations with jadai, when i looked at her expression, when i wanted her to see the lake, when i looked for the delight in her eyes. i cried when we went to the little store by rock creek lake resort, i remembered how we had looked at everything, been so enamored with everything and with each other. i wept.

wednesday, july 26: went to work. had our monthly lunch. i think it might have been miguel’s last day and i sat next to him and tried to talk and be pleasant to others. for dinner i met lorena at hong kong bbq and we had chow fun and fried pork and i brought home the fried pork and it wasn’t very good.

thursday, july 27: had a zoom psychiatrist appointment where i was crying, and she told me to start taking 10mg of lexapro again because of all the sadness and crying and wanting to die business. she also increased my lamotrigine to 150 mg but for some reason i couldn’t get it filled until like august 3 (delivered august 4) so i went for a week without and maybe coincidentally kinda lost my mind for the next two weeks. i also had izakaya dinner with tracy (who came by and i drove us to little tokyo.) we went to beard papa’s where she got a cream puff for her wife and we stopped at the little tokyo market where i got a couple cans of yerba mate, then we headed back.

friday, july 28: dinner with stephen and billy in ktown at a place called T Equals Fish. live octopus. live shrimp. ok seafood. some soju. i was feeling pretty down but tried not to show it.

saturday, july 29: facetime with kelda. don’t recall much but probably cried. then went to clay and amy’s for clay’s 40th birthday party. i mostly just chatted with jenny and had a few beers before heading home.

have no recollection of sunday. i think i had considered going to a local espiscopal church but then didn’t. i probably just laid in bed and stared at my phone.

tuesday, august 1: forced myself to leave the condo and go to the market to buy some charcuterie stuff then met up with my mom and drove to the LA zoo where we then shuttled to the hollywood bowl to watch her favorite pianist. we met up with some of her choir friends earlier and they gave us some homemade kimbap and fruit, and i tried not to look dead inside but was not very talkative or friendly, and i just kinda tried to wait everything out. like i didn’t really want to be there. i didn’t want to be out. i didn’t want to sit on a concrete bench. i didn’t want to have to gauge how much liquid i could drink because we were pretty squashed in between other people and going to the bathroom would be hard. i watched the pianist and was just ... i just felt so empty, just wondering how all these people could be so interested, so invested, get so much joy out of this, and i was just thinking of how uncomfortable i was, and how i couldn’t wait until this ended, and reminded myself to feel gratitude for every day and every night that i got to stay at home alone and not have to bother with anything. finally it was over and people clapped and clapped and he came back for an encore and played this etude by Chopin and i just started sobbing. it’s one of my favorite piano pieces and it had been the theme song for the first tv show that i enjoyed, a japanese tv show with a very beautiful woman and a very unattractive man that my mom had dumbed down for me by calling it “Beauty and the Beast” although it was something like, “1001 Dates” or something. and i just suddenly remembered all of my longing, and how that was probably one of my first crushes, and how drawn i was to the woman, and just how much longing i have in general for beautiful women. i just cried and cried with aching and longing. we then watched the other half which did Not feature the pianist then left with the mob and shuttled back and bid each other adieu.

wednesday, august 2: i had somehow agreed to meet up with kelly to go walking after work at the Los Angeles State Historic Park and was annoyed i had done so, considering all i wanted to do was get out of the heat and resume lying on my face, but we ended up meeting up and i got in more steps than i had in the weeks prior, and we caught up and chatted and it ended up being good.

friday, august 4: not sure how or when but somehow i had agreed to go on an open charter fishing boat with a County coworker i had never met in real life and was dreading it. dreading having to do something, dreading having to get ready for it, and having to sleep early and wake up early, for having to think ahead and for having to do anything other than feed myself, go to the bathroom, and lie on my face, but i did, and it was slightly better than the alternative of lying on my face for 12 hours. i suppose it was good to be out in the fresh air and feel the wind and sun on my face though i threw up my breakfast burrito. there were times when i looked out at the water and contemplated throwing myself overboard, but i stopped myself and just stared emptily for long periods.

saturday and sunday i must’ve taken a total of about 300 steps. just from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen for 1-2 meals/day. and just endless amounts of 90-day fiance recaps on the youtube. just. nothing. just a waste. trash built up. dishes piled up. i knew the fish fillets would slowly go bad but i didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything about it. i had to get an oil change but couldn’t bring myself to go. i just did nothing. i considered going to long beach pride with my bumble bff friend but then decided against it and resumed doing nothing.

today’s monday august 7. i surprised myself. granted i’d been in bed all weekend, but i actually got up only 10 minutes after the alarm rang (lately i’d been staying in bed til just past 7.) i made my bed. i might’ve even washed my face and put on a bit of lotion. i was more present at work than i’d been for the past week. i managed to text my mom and let her know about the fish fillets and she said she’d come over and pick them up. i did some dishes. i took out some trash and recycling. when she came over, i cried and raged a little bit about everyone and everything being a stupid hamster on a stupid wheel and crying, but also thanked her for coming by. she washed some dishes and cleaned my floor. miraculously, i had the wherewithal to go to glendale lube after work and get my oil changed. i then even went to the local coin car wash and sprayed the bird poop that had been baking on my car for the last few weeks. then when i got home i somehow took a 30 minute walk, took a shower, and then sat down to journal. shocking.

what’s kind of weird is that i didn’t really feel like doing any of this. i kind of didn’t feel too markedly different than i did yesterday or the day before. the bed still appealed to me. my phone still appealed to me. the circumstances were largely the same. i don’t know whether maybe i was just sick of being in bed for so long or feeling guilty or whatever, but i still felt extreme reluctance to do many things but somehow i still did them. and that was very surprising. that i could. that i could just sort of mechanically go about and still do a lot of the life things. i could still answer emails and check on permit statuses and i could still write down my expenses for the month. was it muscle memory? was it a strong feeling of obligation/duty? it was bizarre. it was like playing with a Sim and just having it do certain tasks. i just set myself to do things and just did them until they were finished and time had passed and things were getting accomplished and it was bizarre that things could still happen even though i felt empty about the whole process. it was weird that i could do things or not do things. regardless, the day passed, but it was a matter of if the place smelled more or less fishy. i could cramp my hand by holding my phone for 12 hours at a time, or i could scrub my bathtub. it made no difference to life. but one hurt my hand and one made my bathtub less scummy.

must remember. must remember.

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illbesp0ke · 2 years

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Rapid fire days 15-29. Cause I can't stick to a daily schedule if my life depended on it, but I wanna finish something for once.

Day 15: Nope, so I wouldn't know - and I wouldn't (I'd go for lab made meat, provided it was similar in nutrition and taste/texture to meat)

Day 16: Probably...around 12?

Day 17: Probably (nothing diagnosed cause ain't nobody got money for that, and I don't wanna risk consequences from having a mental illness on my file - I live in a fairly socially conservative area). I definitely have an.. odd relationship with food though.

Day 19: Lol, today.

Day 18: chocolate. And sometimes meat. And sour cream.

Day 20: Never did a diet, really. Not a fan.

Day 21: Probably a women's S-M or a men's XS?

Day 22: 43kg, after I came out of the hospital that one time. Prolly gained cause I ate.

Day 23: probably, at least some.

Day 24: No way at all.

Day 25: Sort-of? Mostly prompted by feeling nauseous but not enough to throw up on my own (but I wanted the feeling gone so I decided to hurry it up). It *sucked*. I used to be pretty emetophobic (went away after I got drunk af a few times), but I never found the experience very pleasant anyway. I'm a fast eater too, so the feeling/risk of choking when I have to upchuck big chunks of food was just - no.

Day 26: Hopefully losing my ass (and as much hips as I can) - getting an even flatter chest - slim thighs (and upper arms) - looking more toned and less flabby (especially in tight clothes) - collarbones - cheekbones pls? And a sharp jaw - bony wrists and hands?

Day 27: sometimes I crave it, most times I'm just 'ye it's there'

Day 28: soooorta? It would look nice, and smth smth skinny legs. But also, not being able to get it would mean I don't have a wide enough hip structure to make it happen (which is good. Narrrow hips are a yes from me)

Day 29: I like angles, sharpness and certain proportions

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lonelier-version-of-you · 2 years

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Watching S20 E33 “Bargaining” tonight, which I think might have Johnrik moments (though if it does they’re only in group scenes, I’m almost completely sure their next one-on-one interaction isn’t until S20 E36 “Keep Your Friends Close”... their last one-on-one interactions were in “Primum Non Nocere”, which was episodes 24 and 25. I’m not joking when I say John and Henrik were almost completely barred from interacting in the middle of the Gaskell story. ://) but I honestly can’t remember. (Same goes for S20 E34. I could’ve checked in advance to see if they have Johnrik scenes but I kind of like not knowing, because if either of them do it’ll be a pleasant surprise.)

Edit 1: Not the “previously on” being 99% Fletch and Jac scenes.

Edit 2: Rox obsessing over watching Jac. It’s Ollie all over again. Also, nice to see John actually prominent in an episode for the first time in a while.

Edit 3: Oh fuck it’s Fletch Senior again.

Edit 4: Rox: “I can’t just stand by and wait for this thing to kill [Jac]!” :(

Edit 5: Fletch Senior AND Jason The Caricature in the same scene. I hate it here.

Edit 6: Jason’s “quirky unintentional rudeness” (like telling Serena she has nothing better to do than look after Guinevere) is a lot better if you pretend he’s deliberately being sassy.

Edit 7: Sacha worrying about Jac :((

Edit 8: SACHA SITTING ON JAC’S BED AND HOLDING HER HAND :((

Edit 9: HENRIK AND JOHN IN THE SAME SCENE. IT’S A GROUP SCENE WITH ROXANNA BUT HUZZAH

Edit 10: John my workaholic king.

Edit 11: Holy shit John’s really not lucid at all is he?

Edit 12: Two bisexuals worrying about the wellbeing of another bisexual.

Edit 13: “I can’t stop thinking about Emma.” Glad someone’s thinking about her, Serena, because the writers clearly weren’t by the end of the show.

Edit 14: Oh no there’s not more Hexanna coming is there?

Edit 15: Oh fuck more Hexanna. :// Love seeing Henrik concerned about Rox, don’t like that it’s meant to be in the context of him being “in love” with her.

Edit 16: John seeing Henrik and Rox and just walking away again :(

Edit 17: Even the slightest possibility that Jac’s tumour was related to John’s experiments makes these episodes so much darker.

Edit 18: Not Serena giving out Jason’s medical information without his consent AGAIN. You can see why Dylan keeps his autism quiet with people like this in the hospital.

Edit 19: “Fix me.” :(

Edit 20: I don’t know if it was intentional, but this patient with the trust issues and paranoia is like a younger version of John.

Edit 21: I don’t know what to make of John’s dynamic with Essie, to this day. On the one hand he mostly seems to see her as an inconvenience, but there are moments he genuinely seems to like or at least respect her.

Edit 22: Everyone handing people coffee in this episode. Henrik to Rox, Donna to Serena.

Edit 23: God, John is completely out of it. :(

Edit 24: Sacha and Henrik visiting Jac!

“The whole hospital sends love to you.” :’))

Edit 25: John putting his arm around Essie, aww.

Edit 26: Rox doesn’t approach Henrik in a corridor and go “ah, Henrik, there you are!” nearly as well as Russ does.

Also, lol. “You and John saved the day.” Love that he feels the need to bring John up.

Edit 27: Serena is so annoying.

Edit 28: John and Rox arguing again.

Edit 29: Rox: “Like with Lana??” Dom and Meena, probably, who know nothing about any of this: ???

Edit 30: Anyway, how come literally the final 5 years of Holby consisted pretty much of Jac having either physical or mental health problems and them being made all about Fletch?

Edit 31: Rox calling John out!

Edit 32: “You know I want Jac to live just as much as you do.” Sure, John. /sarcasm

Edit 33: Okay, the psychotic patient is DEFINITELY meant to mirror John.

Edit 34: “Ms. Naylor would want us to keep our heads, and focus on our patients.” Noting this down for my Henrik grieving about Jac fic.

Edit 35: Not Fletch being the hero.

Edit 36: Henrik insisting on coming into theatre to help Jac!! Aww.

Edit 37: John banging his head against his desk. Same.

Edit 38: Fletch is driving me mad.

Edit 39: The only time Jason’s ever been relatable: being desperate to get some fucking sleep.

Edit 40: John needs a psychiatrist and some good antipsychotics.

Good on Rox calling him out regardless.

Edit 41: “In Lisbon you had the humility to consider stopping the trial. Maybe we should revisit that conversation.” LMAO

Edit 42: They really had all this stuff about how the truth about the trial coming out would be a huge deal and would result in multiple investigations and then they still didn’t actually have any aftermath to the storyline.

Edit 43: What even is this Henrik and Rox scene. I assume this was meant to foreshadow the “ooh Henrik you should take the CEO job that makes you miserable” nonsense.

Edit 44: The psychotic patient is portrayed with sympathy because her psychosis is caused by a physical condition. John is portrayed as evil because his psychosis is caused by mental health issues. And this is the show people want me to praise for “good representation of mental health”?

Edit 45: I love how Rox always looks so done with John.

Edit 46: Love this Rox and John scene actually.

Edit 47: Hermione Gulliford is SO GOOD.

Edit 48: “This isn’t how I wanted it to go.” :(

Edit 49: I can’t take sides between Fletch and his dad because they both annoy me.

Edit 50: Jason: “You can’t just spend the whole day in bed!” Serena: “Oh, I can. And I will.” Not me actually relating to Serena lmao

Edit 51: WTF is this Fletch and Jac scene?!?!

#gaskell rewatch liveblog

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marksinn · 2 years

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Scaramanga - Mobile

I have to open with a small, unintelligible warble.

The colours are purely to distinguish between pages, which was necessary to solve a disagreement about how burger menus should look. My tutor and I couldn't agree on the specifics of a continuous layout between the opening page and the top right menu on the subpages. I'm being entirely honest, I think we both came out of the experiment thinking we had both won, and that the other person was still wrong.

I liked the idea of a page that moved with you, sections colliding into each other and building so you could always access the various subpages. Then I realised that I had only just started web design, and this was purely an exercise in laying out a rough guideline for a web-presence. But I was dead-set on keeping my pretty colours (sorry, boss)!

The layout here shows that each page will be littered with information, looking back I'm proud of (and surprised at) myself that they aren't as chock-full as I expected. I must have been taking my foot off the gas with regards to filling space, and I was clearly thinking about the use of information, images and layout. Now, I wasn't supposed to be thinking too much about the design aspect, but for a first go - I'm chuffed with this.

The wireframe allowed me to plan out what kind of information would appear on a page (e.g. for music I wanted album covers and play buttons) without going too heavy into how it would actually all look in the real world. In client-work wire frames are used to give a vague idea of how a website might look without any personality - just the skeleton of how information will be laid out. I worked off my original brand guidelines for the first concept, and then after a bit of beta testing with friends and colleagues, and an overhaul of the brand, I created the second (and final) version:

Now that my site is complete, I'm glad I had that frame to work from. Many pages are almost exactly as I'd planned - they followed the scaffolding perfectly (especially the 'Live' and 'Store' pages), but I was able to be flexible enough with my ideas to allow growth, change, and some aspects to be thrown out the window. The pages move with the reader, with access to menus and social media links staying ever present for the user to quickly access other areas of the site.

Mostly, I'm proud of my continued use of the visual language. I considered applying meaning to the symbols (having the M shape link to music, the jagged circle link to news), but that would have been too prescriptive. The band give a feeling of ad-hocness when you talk to them, so the feeling of these cool symbols littered around as pleasant background noise felt more fitting than by assigning purpose to each one.

If you really want to see what it's like to visit their website, jump in:

#slp hncgd1 #webdesign #scaramanga #brand guidelines #mobile

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margarethx · 3 years

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The Sambucky fandom spends a lot of time and energy on calling out writers for using problematic, often straight up racist, tropes in their fics. And rightfully so, because some of said tropes are not only unplesant to read for many readers, but also harmful if they help to perpetuate some awful stereotypes. That being said... I feel like we need to show the other side of the spectrum more often and sometimes focus on people who don’t make these mistakes.

----- ------- -----

So here is my personal THANK YOU! to all the writers who have never used these offensive stereotypes in their Sambucky fanfiction and who:

1. Give as much attention to Sam’s side of the story as they give to Bucky’s and do not focus solely on Bucky’s emotions about their developing relationship when it’s a mixed POV.

2. Acknowledge Sam’s trauma and all the loss he experienced in the past (not only in the context where his pain is used to help him better connect with another person who’s hurting).

3. Show other characters (Bucky or not) helping Sam go through his more diffucult moments (bad days, nightmares, painful flashbacks).

4. Show Sam having these more difficult moments.

5. Don’t act like Bucky’s traumatic past is enough of an excuse for his unpleasant behaviour towards Sam. (E.g. they don’t write a story where Sam forgives Bucky every mean, ignorant comment without thinking, just because Bucky’s sad.)

6. Show Sam experiencing variety of emotions - not just frustration and adoration towards Bucky. Show him being sad, happy, disappointed, confused, hopeful, dejected, relieved, terrified, confident etc.

7. Show Sam being the more vulnerable one in the relationship (in general or just in cerain situations)

8. Write scenes where Sam is shy or a little awkward (about his relationship with Bucky or about something else). Also write him being insecure sometimes.

9. Write just as much about Sam’s appearance as they do about Bucky’s. (Both as a narrator and through a character’s compliments or thoughts.)

10. Mention how beautiful Sam’s eyes are... especially if there is more than one line about them. (Plus mention their colour like... at all.)

11. Describe Sam’s appearance focusing on something outside of his smile or muscles. (Not that these are not nice, but there are other things to compliment and they’re hardly ever pointed out.) (Very much including hair or skincolour.)

12. Write Sam making mistakes, but not in a way that insinuates that he’s stupid or incompetent, but in a way that shows he’s a normal person who can sometimes be wrong and own up to it. (Unless he’s the only person in the story who always messes up...)

13. Show Sam being very competent. And show Bucky appreciating Sam’s competence, skills, and knowledge in various fields. (Also write Sam being a badass.)

14. Write about Sam’s background in pararescue, his medical training, skills in combat, flexibility, speed, ability to fly, ability to fix his advanced equipment, strenght, the fact that he’s pretty stealthy etc...

15. Write about the importance of Sam’s relationship with Steve even when Steve’s past connection to Bucky is not relevant to the story at any point.

16. Write Bucky being openly grateful for all the things that Sam did for him and write Bucky helping Sam back even when Sam didn’t specifically ask, because they genuinely care about each other.

17. Write about Sam’s past as a therapist not in the context of him helping Bucky get better, but because it’s relevant to the story and it’s something he has a lot of experience with. Or simply because it’s a significant part of his previous life journey.

18. Show Sam being frustrated or angry without falling into bad stereotypes. And show why his anger was justified and he had the right to react like that, because he doesn’t have to be polite and dyplomatic about everything if other people (Bucky very much included) don’t act respectful towards him in the first place.

19. Acknowledge that Sam is AJ and Cass’s actual uncle. The kids might like Bucky, but they’ve known and loved Sam for way longer... and I rarely see that mentioned.

20. Write about Sam’s past romantic relationships without focusing only on Bucky being jealous about them.

21. Show Sam’s interactions with other characters - not just in a romantic context, but also in terms of friendships (MCU Natasha was closer to Sam than Bucky and fics rarely talk about that), professional cooperation, rivalry and so on.

22. Mention the social commentary brought up in tfatws without brushing it to the side or downplaying the importance of Sam’s race in the formation of his character and storyline.

23. Acknowledge that Sam is human and his body is not enhanced in any way... without making it sound like he’s too weak to do the job.

24. But also... write about Bucky using his super strenght to carry Sam around and to pick him up all the time (for whatever reason), because it’s cute. Sue me.

25. Point out that Sam is slightly shorter than Bucky without always making Sam weirdly insecure about it.

26. Write Sam as Bucky’s first choice... not a second option he picked for the lack of a better candidate for a boyfriend.

27. Understand that Sam has a life outside of Bucky even if their friendship and romantic relationship are obviously very important for him.

28. Write Bucky touching Sam in reassuring, delicate ways. (Holding his hands, cupping his face, touching his hair, kissing the tip of his nose.)

29. Let Sam make harmless jokes, be charming, and be actually a nice person even when he’s not actively helping anyone. Just let him have a complex, but pleasant personality.

30. Let him be sarcastic without making him mean.

31. Add Figaro (Sam’s cat) to the stories about pets. Or show Sam’s emotional attachment to Redwing, even when it’s still a drone, not a bird.

32. Don’t forget that Riley died. And Sam’s parents died. And his close friends died. And other close friend left him without saying goodbye... etc. (Also don’t forget he himself died at one point...)

33. Mention and discuss Sam’s sexuality and romantic orientation (both in the tags to the story and in the actual text). ...I feel like it’s often unspecified for no reason while Bucky’s identity is clear from the start.

34. Give Sam little hobbys and interests that are unrelated to his work or his ability to make other people’s lives better.

35. Write about Sam’s fears and doubts while not forgetting he’s generally a very brave, mostly confident person.

36. Make the audience feel like Sam is a necessary part of the story. Not just a character added hastily at the end of writing just so the author can tag his name, because the ship he’s a part of is currently more popular than before and showind him at last minute will attract some readers to click.

and... 37. Do the things mentioned above in all of their Sambucky stories and use more than one of these ideas at a time.

----- ------- -----

To people who wrote stories with these tropes... You guys are doing a great job and I appreaciate your work a lot. It’s easy to focus on complaining, because the Sam/Bucky tag on Ao3 was always kind of a mess, but my day genuinely gets better every time I find one of your stories. So thank you again and keep it up :>

(Side note: if you have any recommendations for fics that use the ideas I wrote in this post feel free to link them in the comments. Because the bar is hanging pretty low at this point and some authors still wouldn’t be able to cross a single point from my list if they examined their - allegendly - “Sambucky” stories... so we should promote the content that is actually good.)

#sam wilson #samuel thomas wilson #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #captain america #captain america sam wilson #the falcon #white wolf #winter soldier #sambucky #sam x bucky #winterfalcon #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu #marvel

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 27: It's a Hell of a Christmas

Rating: T

Word Count: 8462

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 28 29 30 31 32

This fic was written for the CS Secret Santa event in 2022. It’s Emma and Killian’s first Christmas together following the Final Battle. After spending a happy family day together, they relax before the tree and Emma asks Killian about his favorite Christmas memory. His answer surprises both of them

CS Genre: Season 7 missing scene

1 week before the first Christmas following the Final Battle

Killian sighed in contentment as the sofa beside him dipped and Emma curled up beside him. Wrapping his hooked arm around her he pulled her to himself and gave her a quick kiss before she laid her head against his shoulder.

It had been about as close to a perfect day as he’d experienced in a long time. He’d woken up, as always, in his wife’s arms, smiling as she softly snored, burrowing into his warmth. After taking a few moments to simply enjoy the comfort, he’d carefully maneuvered out of the bed. He’d learned quite early in their marriage that a man was taking his very life into his hands when he was foolhardy enough to wake Emma before she was ready.

After a pleasant morning spent with Swan and her lad, she’d shoed the two of them out of the house, citing the fact that Christmas was fast approaching and she needed to wrap presents in peace without prying eyes

“I thought kids were bad, when it comes to looking for their hidden Christmas present,” she’d said with a grin, “but you, Killian, have them all beat.”

He’d grinned, leaning down to give her a loud, smacking kiss, before straightening and raising one eyebrow. “Pirate,” he stated simply.

She laughed, shoving him toward the door.

“Don’t forget my parents are coming over for dinner tonight,” she’d said, “and then they and little Neal are helping us trim the tree.”

He’d promised to return in plenty of time to help with dinner preparations, and then after one last lingering kiss (prompting Henry to make exaggerated gagging sounds behind them), he and the lad had taken their leave. They’d hardly walked a block toward town before they were met by Emma’s father and little brother.

“You guys get kicked out of the house too?” Dave asked.

“Aye,” Killian said with a nod. “It seems the Charming and Jones men are due for another of those–what did you call them?--guys’ days.”

And so they’d spent the afternoon enjoying the snow and the company–helping the lads build a snowman, waging an all out snowball war (which the Charming’s had won handily–but only because neither he nor Henry had the heart to toss a snowball anywhere near three-year-old Neal. Killian smiled as he recalled the tiny lad’s peals of laughter as his snowball connected with Henry’s shoulder and Emma’s lad had staggered, clutched his heart and then dramatically fallen to the ground), and then retired to Granny’s for some much appreciated sustenance.

“Well, I suppose I should get this little guy back home for his n-a-p,” Dave said as mid afternoon approached, making sure to spell the word he knew would result in a mutiny from his little lad, “but we’ll see you in a couple hours for dinner.”

It had been a pleasant evening with the family, as they set up the Christmas tree, trimming it with twinkling electric lights and bright, colorful baubles. Henry, with great fanfare, had presented him with a new ornament to mark his first official Christmas as Henry’s step-father. Killian groaned good-naturedly as he’d opened the box to reveal a small likeness of his Disney counterpart. He’d played up his disdain at the assassination of his character, before placing the ornament on prominent display.

It had been an ordinary day, spent engaging in ordinary family activities, and Killian wouldn’t have changed a moment of it.

The Charmings had remained until it was time to put the little prince to bed, and then they’d taken their leave, with many promises for more festivities in the coming days. Soon after, Henry had taken his leave, as he was due to spend a few days at Regina’s

“It really is a pretty tree, isn’t it?” Emma asked, as they lounged on their sofa looking up at the brightly lit fir in question.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “A lovely tree, and a lovely evening.”

“Can you believe it?” she asked. “Our first Christmas together as a married couple and we get to spend it with no looming crisis hanging over our heads, no villains threatening us.”

“I rather think I could get used to this ‘Happy Beginning’ business we’ve found ourselves in,” he’d agreed.

Emma laughed, reaching up to absently run her fingers through his hair. She was so affectionate now, never passing up an opportunity to give him little signs of her love, and he found it utterly delightful.

“You must have a lot of stories from past Christmases,” Emma continued with a grin. “After all, you’ve celebrated like a million of them.”

“Oy!” he stated with mock offense, “It couldn’t have been more than two hundred fifty.”

She laughed joyously, and he grinned, turning to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head. “So what was your favorite Christmas, Killian?”

He thought about it for a moment, several memories running through his mind like one of those moving picture shows Swan and her lad enjoyed watching of an evening. One rather surprising moment stood out above all the others.

“You’ll think me mad,” he said finally, “but I think my favorite Christmas was actually last year.”

Emma sat up and looked at him with astonishment. “Last Christmas? But last Christmas we were in…”

He nodded. “Aye, quite so. Who would have believed my favorite Christmas memories would occur in the Underworld?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything hurt. Everything. His bones, his muscles, his sinews; he'd swear even his hair hurt if that were possible. Hades may be a bloody bastard, but never let it be said he wasn't skilled in the art of torture.

It was nearly Christmas. Killian likely wouldn't have marked the occasion, save for the festive elf costumes Hades insisted his demons wear as they went about their masochistic ministrations.

The demons themselves had heartily enjoyed themselves, singing Christmas song parodies as they whipped him and burnt him with hot pokers so brutally it had taken everything within him to keep from screaming in pain.

We wish you an awful Christmas,

We wish you an awful Christmas

and a hellish New Year!

…

Lord Hades is bringing the pain!

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake

He don't care if you've been bad or good,

He'll still throw you in his lake!

And so, it seemed he would. Angry that he couldn't break Killian, angry that despite it all, Killian refused to extinguish that last spark of hope he'd learned to foster, thanks to Emma and her family, Hades had decided to stamp it out of him in the only way he could--by lowering him bit by bit into the sickly green lake in which he would finally lose himself forever.

He supposed it was only just that it should all end this way. After his centuries of villainy he deserved nothing better. Once he was finally gone and lost forever, Emma and her family could return and build a happy life for themselves free of the pain and suffering he brought to everyone who came in contact with him.

His heart lurched at the thought of Emma. How he loved her! For one bright, shining moment, he'd allowed himself to believe they could be together, that he would achieve the happiness he'd fruitlessly searched for for so many decades, but then it had all gone to hell…literally.

The crane lowering him into the River of Lost Souls lurched downward yet again, and Killian focused on her, on his Emma. He was determined she would be the last thing he thought of before he could think no more.

"Killian!"

He would swear he could hear her beloved voice, but it was clearly a last trick of his deluded mind.

"Kilian," she said again, softer this time, tenderly. "Hang on. I’m coming for you. I got ya."

And then she was there holding him, freeing him from the chains, cradling him in her lap. Killian couldn't bite back the soft groans as his injuries complained of the contact.

The hope and joy Hades had failed to root out of him flared to life for a brief moment, but then reality set in once again.

"I told you to let me go," he said. "You shouldn’t be here; no one should."

She gave him a wry smile as she cupped his face, then gently swept the bangs from his forehead. "I never listen."

He smiled in spite of himself. "You’re impossible."

She grinned in response. "And you love me for it."

And gods but he did. More than she could ever know or comprehend. Soon enough he would have to send her home, protect her from himself and the absolute misery he brought to everyone with whom he interacted, but for now, for this one bright shining moment, he could do naught but enjoy the comfort her presence brought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, promontory beside the lake of fire

“Liam! Please! Hold on!” Killian pleaded, holding onto his brother’s hand with all the strength within him.

If there had been any question at all before, it was gone now. This was well and truly hell.

Everything was crashing around him. Everything. His entire world was imploding, everyone he loved facing unimaginably horrific fates, and it was all his fault.

After rescuing him from the River of Lost Souls, Emma had poofed him back to the Underworld version of her home. She’d taken a seat on the musty sofa, calling him over to join her, patting the seat beside her.

“Come, sit down,” she cajoled, “Let me look at you.”

His wounds ached and throbbed. It was hard to breathe; hard to think; hard to keep from crying out with every movement. He couldn’t imagine what he must look like, his visage marred from the beatings he’d endured.

“Are you sure you want to?” he said wryly. “Hades sort of knocked the handsome out of me.”

She grinned playfully at him. “No one’s that powerful.”

Were their situation different, he’d have flirted back, made her laugh with his nonsense, but presently it was all he could do to shuffle over to the sofa and collapse beside her.

No sooner had he taken his seat than Emma waved her hand over him, and it felt as though a shower of pure, warm sunshine washed over him, taking with it the pain and injury and leaving him whole. Even yet, the strength and power of her magic astounded him.

For a moment, Killian felt nothing but relief.

And then reality set in yet again, as it always did in this terrible place. Emma was here, in hell itself, because of him, because of his weakness. Waves of self-loathing like nothing he’d ever experienced washed over him.

She leaned in toward him, lips moving toward his. He pulled back, turning his head. He was unworthy of her love, unworthy of anyone’s love.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, pulling back to get a better look at him.

“It’s just…” he began, struggling to even put into words the depths of his hatred of himself and what he’d done. “A lot has happened between us.”

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

How did she not see it? How was she still looking at him with love? Agitated, he got to his feet and paced away from her.

“I’m the problem,” he bit out. “Emma, you were the Dark One for six weeks and only gave into the darkness out of love. I plunged in head first in a second for revenge. I was weak.”

“Not in the end!” she insisted.

A single moment of heroism didn’t make up for centuries of villainy, and he well knew it. “You raised the bar very high, Swan. The fact is, I don’t measure up.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she said, her voice insistent. “If you didn’t, would I have come all the way down here to try to save you?”

She would, and he knew it, because she was good. She was a hero. He was anything but.

“That’s my point. I’m not sure I deserve saving.”

Their conversation had been cut short in the most unexpected way–by the arrival of his brother Liam. What had followed were a few blessedly joyous and peaceful hours, as Killian introduced his first true love to his second. The two best people he’d ever known, together in one place. Despite his guilt and misery, he couldn’t suppress the joy the meeting brought.

But even this was destined to crash down around him.

It started with Emma’s superpower telling her something was amiss with Liam. Something had happened between the two of them, but Killian didn’t know what it was; didn’t want to know what it was.

He didn’t understand how Emma could think Liam, the most moral and straight-laced man Killian had ever known, could be anything but on the up and up, but she was quite convinced.

The moment Silver’s crew had shown up and proven Emma right had been the most disorienting moment of his life. It felt as though he were suffering from vertigo, his entire world turning upside down as the horrible truth settled in around him–Liam had lied to him, and not only that, he had entered into a deal with Hades, allowing the entire crew to be lost at sea in order to save Killian.

My fault, my fault, my fault! The words echoed in his mind like a mantra.

If it hadn’t been for Killian, Liam would never have fallen. Killian wasn’t merely cursed, he was the curse. He infected and destroyed everyone around him.

Everything had moved quickly after the horrible revelation, and Killian had been so shell-shocked he could do nothing but move with the inexorable tide.

Silver’s crew had marched Liam and himself to the lake of fire, intent on making the brothers Jones walk the plank, but their intentions were upended by the arrival of Hades himself.

Liam had, once again, attempted to shield Killian from his just punishment, and the result had brought them to the moment they now found themselves in–Liam slipping inexorably toward the lake of fire, Killian more terrified than he’d ever been. He couldn’t lose Liam again. Not now. Not like this.

“Liam! Please! Hold on!”

“I’m sorry brother, for all I’ve done,” Liam shouted above the flames threatening to consume him. “Can you forgive me?”

It wasn’t even a question. Like Emma, Liam had only fallen for one reason–love of him. His guilt was quite misplaced. “Yes, but that’s not what’s important. You need to find a way to forgive yourself.”

“I can’t, not after what I did to you.” The look in Liam’s eyes made Killian’s heart sink like a stone. “The only way to make amends is to pay the price.”

And then Liam let go.

Shear panic and aching horror took over, as Killian reached down, trying fruitlessly to stop what was happening.

But the panic was short-lived. A moment later, the flames disappeared to be replaced by a serene sea. Liam rose above all of it upon a little rowboat, a smile gracing his lips.

Killian felt the tears prickle behind his eyes, tears of relief this time. “Liam! You’re safe!”

Liam’s smile widened. “Yes, it appears I am. I suppose this is the sacrifice I should have made long ago. I can finally depart.”

Killian looked beyond his brother. Where once had stood the rocky wall of the cave, now was nothing but open waters and a port city which appeared stocked with all the provisions Liam would need for his next mighty adventure.

Liam had truly redeemed himself, and now his own personal paradise awaited him.

“Then go. All of you,” Killian said, gesturing to the remaining crew, “Now that you know the truth, your unfinished business is complete as well.”

“Get on board, men,” Liam said, offering the sailors a hand. “What about you, brother?”

Killian turned away. Liam deserved this. Silver’s crew did as well. He, most certainly, did not.

“I think not,” Killian said finally. “There’s nothing for me but the lake of fire. I deserve no better.”

Liam stepped out of the boat, instructing the first mate to leave without him. Insisting his everlasting reward could wait.

If anything, the pit in Killian’s stomach grew wider, into an abyss there would be no crossing. “Why would you do that?” he shouted. “Why would you delay your paradise? I’m. Not. Worth. It!”

Liam frowned. “That’s nonsense, brother. You’ve become a true hero in a way I never could.”

Killian scoffed. “A hero?” he scoffed, putting every ounce of derision he could muster into those two syllables. “I’m anything but. I’m a pariah to all who meet me. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with me is worse off–much worse off–for having known me. You would all be better off if I flung myself into that lake of fire, perishing once and for all.”

“You really think those who love you would be happier knowing you burnt to death in a lake of fire?” Liam asked softly. “Emma? Her lad? Me?”

Killian glanced aside. “Well, maybe not. Maybe it would have been better if I’d never been born.”

Liam was silent for a moment, thinking. “That’s an idea,” he muttered to himself. “What do you think, Zeus? That could work.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “What are you on about?”

“Done, Killian,” Liam said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve never been born. You don’t exist.”

There was a flash of light, a clap of thunder, and then all went silent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For a moment Killian merely looked at his brother.

“Pardon?” He said finally.

“You’ve never been born,” Liam repeated. “You don’t exist.”

“Then…who am I?”

“You’re no one,” Liam said. “Killian, you’ve been given a great gift, the opportunity to see what the world would look like if you’d never been in it. Are you ready to explore? To see the impact you have no longer had?”

Killian wasn’t sure he was ready for this. After all…it was altogether possible everyone was infinitely happier and more fulfilled without his toxic influence.

Still, he’d never been a coward. He didn’t intend to start now. “Very well, lead on.”

They made their way from the cave back to the filthy streets of Underbrooke. The first thing Killian noticed was that the town appeared far more crowded than it had when they entered the cave. Dozens, maybe hundreds of men dressed in uniforms he recognized as belonging to some of the rival kingdoms he had fought as part of the Royal Navy, milled about.

“Who are these men?” Killian asked. “Why have they suddenly arrived?”

“They haven’t suddenly arrived,” Liam said as they began making their way through the crowds. “They’ve been here for more than 200 years–ever since our corrupt king used dreamshade on them.”

“But that’s impossible!” Killian insisted after mumbling a quick apology to a man he bumped into. “We discovered the King’s plans for the dreamshade and we refused to turn over the poison!”

Liam shook his head. “You weren’t around to question the king’s command.”

“But surely you discovered the plant's properties and did the honorable thing,” Killian insisted.

Liam stopped suddenly, giving Killian a long look. “I wasn’t around either. Come. I have something I need to show you.”

Killian followed Liam back to the bar he’d tended since his death, questions swirling in his head.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Liam was behind the bar, but he looked nothing like the Liam Killian knew and loved. This man was young, likely no more than eighteen or nineteen. There was a hard look about him, that of a man who had seen and endured far too much in the short time he’d lived.

A man who hadn’t had any hope.

Killian turned toward his guide, his Liam. “How are you…there and…here?”

“Properly speaking, I’m not,” Liam said. “As I’ve already, for all intents and purposes, moved on, I, like you, don’t exist here. The man you see behind the bar is Liam Jones as he would have been had you never been born.”

“Why is he so…young?”

Guide Liam sidled up to the bar, waving Killian over to join him. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Young Liam asked in a bored voice, continuing to wipe down glasses as he eyed his new customers.

“I’m rather partial to whiskey myself,” Liam said genially, “and my brother here has a preference for rum, if I remember correctly.”

Young Liam nodded, and had just turned around to fulfill the request, when Killian finally found his voice. “Liam! It’s me!” he said. “It’s Killian!”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“Killian,” Killian insisted, “your younger brother.”

Young Liam frowned. “Never had a brother. Never had any family save for a mother who died far too young and a worthless arse of a father who sold me into servitude.”

“But–” Killian tried again, “even without me, all of your men, all of those who sailed under Captain Liam Jones loved you. They were a family to us…to you.”

Young Liam laughed bitterly, before leaning in, his lips turned down in a scowl. “I never had any men under my command. I never had command over so much as a cabin boy. I lived a slave, and I died one, just another nameless sot who drank too much and went down in a storm.”

Liam banged two tumbler’s of liquor in front of his patrons. “Now, you can either drink up or get the hell out of my bar. I’ve no stomach to relive my failures.”

When the bartender had turned away to wait upon another customer who had arrived, Killian turned toward his brother. “What is he talking about?”

Liam shrugged. “Without you in my life, Killian, I was utterly rudderless, lacking in any ambition to better myself. I never escaped Silver’s command, never even tried. I died in that storm, Killian. I along with that entire ship of hopeless men.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They consumed their beverages largely in silence after that, Killian’s unease growing the longer he thought about Liam as he would have been had things been different.

Was there any truth to what his brother said? Had Killian’s very brokenness inspired Liam to be a better man?

Taking the last sip, Killian got quickly to his feet, no longer interested in the bar or hearing any more sad tales about the bartender.

“Alright Liam,” he said to his guide, “where next?”

Liam thought for a moment before paying their tab and leading Killian out the door, the words “The Rabbit Hole” illuminated as it swung shut. “I think there’s someone else here you need to see,” he said finally.

Killian followed obediently behind his brother as they walked through the streets of town until they came to the sheriff’s station.

“Some prisoner here you wish me to see?” Killian asked as Liam opened the door and waved him inside.

“Patience, brother,” Liam said. “The purpose of our visit will soon become apparent.”

Killian looked around the office as they entered. So similar in some ways to its Storybrooke counterpart–yet so different in others. This sheriff’s office sported a myriad of medieval torture devices, and at the far wall stood none other than Rumplestiltskin’s cell itself.

It was only once he’d stepped fully inside, that he noticed the man lounging in the swivel chair behind what back home would be Emma’s desk.

“David?” he asked. “What are you doing here, mate? Shouldn’t you be helping the others?”

The man rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before getting to his feet. “Not David. James,” he bit out. “If you’re looking for my brother, he should be back any moment once he finishes his latest utterly fruitless task of arriving at a crime scene just too late to save anyone.”

“What?” Killian asked, trying to make some sense–any sense–out of what was happening.

The man–James–smiled nastily. “Quite a clever punishment Hades devised for him, wasn’t it?” he asked. “My hero of a brother, wanting nothing more than to save his subjects and the people he loves, forced to spend an eternity down here never quite able to save anyone.”

“But…but why is Hades punishing him?”

James looked at him as though he had two heads. “Because that’s what the Lord of the Underworld does–punishes those poor, unfortunate souls who show up at his doorstep after their demise.”

Killian’s heart sank. “David’s dead?”

“You new here?” James asked. “Of course he’s dead. Only way people end up here. Now is there something you need, or are you just here to annoy me?”

“We’ll take a seat outside and wait for David’s return,” Liam said, ushering Killian to a very uncomfortable bench in the hallway.

“How? Why?” Killian asked after a moment of silence.

Rather than answer, Liam pointed toward the doorway, a little bell ringing as a very dejected David stepped through the door.

Killian noticed it immediately, the blackened veins traveling from his chest up to cover his face. “Dreamshade,” he whispered.

Liam nodded

David gave them a look as he walked past, but there was no recognition in his face at the sight of them. Too overwhelmed by what he’d just seen to think straight, Killian didn’t even attempt to call out to him.

Just before the office door closed again, Killian heard James greeting his brother. “Ah, David. Back from another unsuccessful rescue mission, I see. There’s a mountain of paperwork for you on your desk. It’s grown by a foot since you left. Should keep you nice and busy until the next crisis you can’t avert.”

“But this is wrong,” Killian said after a moment of silence. “All wrong. David should be alive. Water from the springs of Neverland saved him!”

Liam shook his head. “You weren’t there to save him, Killian,” he said quietly. “Being resourceful, Emma and her family found a way to Neverland and succeeded in saving the lad, but without you to save him, David died of his dreamshade poisoning.”

The pit in Killian’s stomach widened. Wrong, wrong! This was all wrong!

“How did the Lady Snow–not to mention Emma and Henry–handle David’s passing?” Killian asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.

“Again, perhaps it’s best if I show you,” Liam said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liam led him this time to a building with a big display out front and a sign proclaiming it to be the cinema.

“This is one of those places that projects those moving pictures Emma and Henry are so fond of, isn’t it?” he asked, after Liam purchased two tickets from a bored teenager at the ticket booth.

“Indeed,” Liam said, peering at the tickets and heading toward the theater indicated, “but as with other establishments here in the underworld, the theater serves a bit of a different purpose than it does back on earth. The theater allows Underworld residents to catch a glimpse of those they left behind when they died.”

The lights in the room dimmed, and blazoned across the huge screen in front was the single word “Storybrooke”. A moment later, the screen changed, and Killian found himself looking at the Charmings’ flat. Snow sat at the kitchen table, a full bowl of cereal and an untouched cup of coffee in front of her.

She looked terrible. Dark circles under her eyes proving she hadn’t been sleeping. Her hair hanging dull and lifeless. Her eyes–her eyes were the worst of all. They were dead, hopeless. It was a startling sight, seeing the woman usually so optimistic looking so defeated.

“Gone,” she muttered. “They’re all gone. I’ve lost everything.”

Henry took a seat beside her, his eyes troubled–not only at the sight of his grandmother, but also, it seemed, with his own grief.

“Grams, you have to eat something,” Henry said, his voice wobbling slightly. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t.”

Henry’s distress seemed to snap Snow out of her stupor, at least temporarily. She pasted a false smile on her face. “You’re right, Henry,” she said before forcing herself to take a spoonful of her cereal. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

Henry shrugged, digging into his own bowl. “It’s what family does.”

“Where is the child?” Killian asked. “Little Neal, where is he?”

“There is no baby Neal,” Liam said simply. “Killian, with David perishing on Neverland, the little lad was never conceived. Like you, he does not exist.”

Killian pulled in a quick breath, aching for Emma’s mother. She’d wanted so much to have a second child, had loved her son to distraction. Her loss was palpable–although Killian hardly knew how one could miss someone they’d never had or known.

“You see, Killian,” Liam said as the screen went to black and the house lights came up once again, “everyone’s life creates a ripple, and without that ripple, nothing is ever the same.”

Killian waited for a moment, expecting the scene to change again; there was one last person he was desperate to see.

“Liam, why didn’t the moving picture show us Emma?” he asked, somehow both needing and dreading the answer. “Where is she?”

Liam gave him a long look before blowing out a breath. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Killian said insistently. “Show me Emma. Show me my true love.”

“Very well,” Liam acquiesced, “but I warn you–you’re not going to like what you see.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian resumed his seat in the Underworld theater, steeling himself for the sight Liam assured him he would not like.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked, “didn’t you say you wanted to see Emma?”

“Aye,” Killian said slowly. “I had assumed we would once again need the moving picture machine for that. After all, if I was never born, Swan would have never come to the Underworld after me.”

Liam shook his head gently, his eyes sorrowful. “I think you need to come with me.”

Killian felt his heart drop, a sense of foreboding washing over him as the implication of Liam’s request sunk in. Surely Emma was not down here. Surely.

And yet, as Liam led him deeper and deeper into the underworld, that sense of foreboding only continued to grow. When Liam led motioned for him to enter the cave where Killian knew Hades’ most sadistic torture chamber sat, it all became too much.

“No!” he moaned, taking a step back. “She can’t be there!”

Liam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know this is difficult, Killian, but you must see this.”

Killian wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run. If Emma was in this chamber, he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. “Please, brother. Please tell me this isn’t real. Please tell me she’s not here!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Liam said gently. “Come, we must hurry. For the moment Hades and his minions have let her be, but we mustn’t be caught when they return.”

For another long moment, Killian resisted, but finally, realizing Liam was right, no matter how horrific, he must know the truth, he nodded.

The first thing he noticed upon entry into the cave was the intense, overbearing heat. There was no relief, no respite. Then came the overwhelming stench of sulfur. For a moment, the darkness was so absolute, so oppressive, he couldn’t see anything, but as his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, he noticed a single, flickering candle along the back wall–the wall where Hades had chained Killian when he was in the midst of his worst tortures.

The sight that met him would have brought him to his knees if Liam’s strong arm hadn’t been there to support him.

“No!” he shouted, the sound echoing off the cave walls.

For it was indeed Emma who was chained to the wall, her face so bruised and cut and swollen as to be almost unrecognizable. Her hair hung limp around her, damp from the sweat born of the oppressive heat and the physical trauma. Hades had stripped her of her signature red leather jacket, and Killian could see cuts and bruises all along her arms. One arm, in fact, hung at an odd angle, giving evidence of a nasty break. Her jeans were tattered and bloodied.

In short, it appeared she’d suffered every torment he had, and perhaps even more. He had to save her. Had to!

Killian rushed toward Emma, gently cradling her head and brushing a strand of hair from her face. He murmured her name and words of comfort and he eyed her restraints, trying to determine how best to loose them.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked in a voice she was obviously trying to make sound defiant. Instead, it merely sounded exhausted. Hades was so very close to breaking her, and Killian wanted to rip out his entrails and strangle him with them.

“It’s Killian,” he said. “I’m going to get you out of here love, just as you did for me. You had to know I love you too much to leave you here to suffer.”

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Just how stupid do you think I am, Hades?” she asked in a voice dripping with scorn. “You think I’m some naive, damsel-in-distress, starry-eyed teenager who’ll fall for any line a handsome stranger throws my way? Hardly. I grew up real quick on the streets and learned that love is a lie sold by greeting card companies. It’s certainly not in the cards for the Savior. So just stop with–well, with whatever you’re trying to do. Get back to the torture or leave me the hell alone.

“Swan–” Killian started, before he was interrupted by a noise in the corridor.

“Killian, we’ve got to go,” Liam said, grabbing at his arm. “Someone’s coming and we can’t be caught here.”

Killian pulled his arm free and tried to hack at the chains holding Emma. They wouldn’t budge.

“It’s useless, brother,” Liam insisted, grabbing at him again. “The chains of hell cannot be broken. We’ve got to go. Now!”

It went against everything inside of him to leave Emma there, leave her to Hades’ devices, but Liam was right. There was no way to free her. Finally he nodded, following his brother out of the cave and through the streets of town until they reached what was once Underbrooke’s version of Emma’s house. It was different now, fallen into complete disrepair–windows broken, wood rotted, cobwebs hanging from every surface.

This house was the physical manifestation of everything he was feeling now. Everything, everything was crumbling in around him.

“Why?” Killian moaned in anguish, falling to his knees. “Why is she here? She shouldn’t be here! I should!”

“You don’t exist,” Liam reminded him, getting to his knees and placing a comforting arm on his shoulders. “She couldn’t make you a co-Dark One. You weren’t there to take all the darkness on yourself and sacrifice yourself to end it. Emma had to do that herself.”

“No!” Killian moaned again.

“And I think you know why Hades is making her torture so much worse than anyone else’s if you truly think about it,” Liam continued.

“She’s the savior,” Killian said, his voice breaking. “She defeated Hades in a way no one else ever could.”

Liam nodded. “She did,” he agreed, “and she did so because she is good and valiant, but she is also broken. Without you, she never again found love. She was never able to allow her heart to heal and her walls to come down. She was a light to all around her, but she was never blessed with that light for herself.”

And suddenly it all began to make sense. In his long life, Killian had done many terrible things, but he’d also had a positive impact on others. His life had mattered, and its absence left a tremendous hole.

“We are none of us fully good nor fully evil,” Liam continued, as though reading Killian’s thoughts, “but every one of us is important and necessary to so many people. Our impact is something we may never know, but it is vital, and when one of us is missing from the fabric of time–the resulting tear leaves the garment irreparably harmed.”

The tears began to flow, and Killian let them, making no attempt to stop them or wipe them away. He wanted to fix this. He needed to fix this.

“Please brother,” he said through his tears, “help me. I want to live again!”

Liam smiled. “Done!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no flash of lighting, no crack of thunder this time. Nothing earth shattering happened. One moment they were in the broken-down shell of the Underbrooke version of Emma’s house, and the next they were back in the cave where this whole thing had started. Even so, Killian knew it had worked; he could feel it. All was back to the way it should have been–well, as close as anything could come in this terrible place. His life was restored to the fabric of time. Joy bubbled up.

As Killian’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cavern, he noticed the dinghy docked to the cliff, the peaceful waters in which it bobbed, the pleasant port in the distance that was to be Liam’s eternal reward, and a touch of bittersweetness mixed in with his joy. No doubt the time of parting with his brother was almost upon him.

“Not quite yet, brother,” Liam said, once again reading his thoughts. “This vessel will be waiting for me in due course, but it’s Christmas Eve. I can see nothing wrong with celebrating this one last holiday with my brother and the family he’s amassed for himself.”

Killian’s smile widened. “You’d put off paradise for me?”

“Of course,” Liam said. “Haven’t you learned by now I’d do anything for you? You, little brother, are worth it.”

Killian wrapped his arms around his brother, feeling the tears rush to his eyes once again. He’d always known his brother’s first statement was true, but now, maybe for the first time in his life, he was beginning to believe the truth of the second as well.

After a long moment, Killian stepped back, clearing his throat. “Younger brother,” he corrected gruffly.

Liam laughed. “And, if I don’t miss my mark, there’s someone else out there who would also do anything for you; who also believes you’re worth it. Perhaps it’s time you go to her.”

Emma’s beloved face came to mind, and a rush of love and longing filled him. He’d left her on a rather bad note, his self-loathing pushing her away. He wanted–needed–to make things right, to let her know how very much he appreciated her coming here to save him.

“Will you not come with me, Liam?” he asked.

Liam chuckled. “I rather think your reunion is something I don’t need to be privy to. I’ll return to the loft, spend some time with your Emma’s son. Perhaps we can plan and start preparations for our Noel celebrations. You and your love can meet me there.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian rushed back to Swan’s Underbrooke house, his heart leaping to see it whole and reasonably intact, as opposed to the broken down hull he’d seen last. It was further proof that all was back as it should be.

He found Emma standing in the drawing room looking confused and slightly out of sorts.

“Hook!” she said, as he rushed toward her. “Where the hell have you been? First you and Liam left, and then Henry ran off…somewhere.”

There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to tell her, but he started by simply giving her a long hug, which she returned warmly.

When he pulled back enough to see her face, it was obvious his gesture, while not unwelcome, had certainly done nothing to banish her confusion.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said finally. “You were right about Liam. He destroyed those pages because of a deal he made with Hades years ago, a deal that almost got us thrown into that boiling sea.”

Her eyes widened and her grip tightened on his arms. “Are you okay? Where is he?”

“He, uh, sacrificed himself,” he said, struggling to find the words to tell her what had happened to him–to both of them–over the last few hours. “But his sacrifice helped a crew we once sailed with. They finally moved on thanks to him.”

Her alarm grew. “Did he move on too?”

Killian shook his head. “Not yet. A boat is waiting to usher him on when he is ready, but he wishes to spend Christmas with us first–it is, after all, Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t miss the slight look of unease in her eyes, which she quickly masked. “That’s–that’s good,” she said, a bit too cheerfully.

“He was wrong about you, Swan,” Killian said, “and he knows it. I think one reason he wished to remain was to have an opportunity to apologize to you and make amends.”

Her smile became far more genuine. “There’s no need, Killian. He was just trying to protect you. I get that.”

“Nevertheless,” Killian said, “I need no protection from you, and now he knows that.”

They were silent for a moment, merely enjoying the quiet and peace of each other’s company. Finally Emma looked around. “So if he didn’t move on, where is he? Didn’t he come back here with you?”

Killian grinned. “He returned to your parents’ flat, hoping to conspire with the lad to make our Christmas one to remember–at least as far as is possible in this hellish place.”

They shared a smile, but then Killian grew serious, looking at her with intensity. This was important; he needed her to hear him. “But he helped me to see the truth before he went. I’m glad you came down here, Emma. Perhaps I do deserve saving after all.”

She lit up, her face showing a joy he hadn’t seen since he’d gotten down here. “Does that mean when this is all over, you’re planning to come home?”

When this is all over. It was a stark reminder that there were still substantial obstacles they must face before they could return to their white picket fence life, but face them they would. He was sure of it. Not only would they face them, they would win, and their happiness afterwards would be all the sweeter from the struggle they had to endure to get there.

“Yes,” he answered definitively. “Everything Liam did was to ensure that I had a future, and I damn well intend to have one.”

With that, he swooped in for a long passionate kiss, the likes of which he’d dreamed about ever since this ordeal began.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Storybrooke, Present Day

Killian toyed with the ends of Emma’s hair as her head lay on his shoulder.

“And then we returned to your parents’ flat–or what passed for it in that bloody place–to find Henry and Liam had made a valiant attempt at decorating for the festive occasion.”

Emma chuckled. “I remember. The only tree they could find made Charlie Brown’s look amazing.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Killian said with his own chuckle, “but I catch the gist. It was quite pitiful. Its sad state only rivaled by the wilted poinsettias and the crumbling mistletoe.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Emma said, “I think the mistletoe still worked perfectly well, if the exaggerated eyerolls from Henry when we made use of it were any indication.”

He chuckled again. “And all your mother could find to prepare for our Christmas feast was grilled cheese on stale bread and PopTarts for dessert.”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t the greatest grilled cheese I’ve ever had, and unfrosted brown sugar cinnamon PopTarts are just wrong,” Emma said, “but I’ve gotta say, I kind of like the menu.”

Killian shot her a disgusted look with a muttered “bloody hell”. She collapsed against him as she laughed.

“However,” Killian said after a moment, returning to the subject at hand. “It was a pleasant evening filled with joy and laughter. The two people I love the most in this or any world together and reconciled, your family–our family–together to support us. It was the very essence of what makes Christmas magical.”

Emma sat up to look at him and there was sadness in her eyes. “But the next evening we had to say goodbye to Liam for good.”

Killian sighed. “It was a bittersweet moment to be sure,” he agreed, “but I got a proper farewell this time, something I was denied when he died in my arms all those centuries ago, and I know he’s in a better place–I saw it for myself. One day we’ll be together again.”

She gave him a stern look. “That day better be decades and decades away.”

He grinned before leaning down to kiss her. “Fear not, Swan. Have I not proven that I’m a survivor? Even death couldn’t hold me forever. At any rate, though we were in an awful place and the decorations and provisions were less than ideal, that was a Christmas that I will always hold in my heart, because I got a second chance, and it’s been sweeter than anything I could imagine.”

They were silent for a moment, and then he heard a small sniff beside him. He leaned over to see tears in Swan’s eyes. “Love, whatever is the matter?”

“I had no idea, Killian,” she said after a moment, “no idea you went through all that. You never told me about the visions Liam showed you.”

He shrugged. “There never seemed to be time; we were always moving from one crisis to the next, and I didn’t want to upset you with my own internal crises.”

She sat up again, looking into his eyes. “Killian, we’re true love, husband and wife,” she said, “We should help each other through our crises. Don’t ever feel like you have to keep anything from me because I might find it upsetting.”

He smiled tenderly at her, cupping her cheek and letting his thumb caress her face. “Nor you with me, my love.”She nodded. “And for the record, Killian, you have nothing left to prove. You are a good man, and all of us are better off for having you in our lives. Don’t ever doubt that.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #its a hell of a christmas

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qitwrites · 3 years

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(AO3)

June 1st falls on a random Tuesday. The weather is decent enough, the sun bright but not harsh, and the air is pleasant, slowly dipping to colder temperatures.

Everyone crowds around various desks to chatter before homeroom, and Iida spends a grand total of two minutes trying to bring about order before migrating towards Todoroki’s desk to join in the conversation he’s having with Midoriya and Sero. When there’s roughly 14 seconds to spare before Aizawa rolls into the class in his signature yellow sleeping bag, everyone takes their seats and on time, as always, Aizawa arrives.

Three things are noted immediately:

1. The yellow sleeping bag is nowhere in sight. It’s happened before, but not often.

2. There’s a strange bounce to Aizawa’s step. Not like a normal bounce, but he’s not dragging his feet like a reluctant, sleep-deprived sloth. His steps are focused and intentional. This is a very rare, almost never-before-witnessed sight.

3. His hair is up. He doesn’t usually do it up for class, though they’ve seen him pull it into a pony when he’s dressed more casually and not in his hero attire. This is an unprecedented situation.

The class watches Aizawa wearily because, from literal months of experience, they have realized that when something is out of the ordinary, shit usually flings itself towards the fan in a most spectacularly dramatic fashion.

Even Bakugou is on-edge, watching Aizawa like a hawk. Midoriya is ready to whip his iconic notebook out and make yet another behavioral observation under the Eraserhead section. Iida looks ready to disperse any tension. They are all ready.

Aizawa sets his stuff down, gruffly wishes them good morning and then turns around to write something on the board.

They are not ready.

It’s not a big deal at all actually. In hindsight, its stupidly minor, but with Aizawa, it stands out bright and shiny, and even Koda makes a small noise of surprise.

Aizawa’s hair is pulled into a pony with a scrunchie. Which is fine, all well and good. But the scrunchie is made of a rainbow-colored hyper shiny material, which is surprising, because Aizawa always seems allergic to color, especially on his person.

And finally, there are only 6 colors in the rainbow. Momo connects the dots before the rest, though Midoriya follows closely behind.

‘That’s-‘

‘-pride,’ Midoriya breathes, soft but just enough for Bakugou, Jirou, and Sero to hear.

The class is shocked for the first ten or so minutes, as more and more people make the connection, but honestly, it’s just a scrunchie. And with Eri under Aizawa’s care, it isn’t unlikely that he’s worn one of her hair ties or something. This is probably a coincidence, even if it is the first of June, so everyone stops fixating and starts focusing on class.

The scrunchie goes unmentioned and1A is on the same page- it’s definitely just a one-time thing.

It is not a one-time thing.

On the second of June, Aizawa saunters in seemingly back to his normal attire, and a few shoulders slump. They might all be saying its a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. There’s something so reassuring about the idea of their teacher, someone that protects them fiercely and loyally, being supportive.

Aizawa doesn’t seem to pick up on the mood, he just assigns them some self-study before taking a seat at his desk. And then he, very uncharacteristically, puts his feet up and reclines in his chair, a folder propped open in his lap.

There’s a collective inhale, the whole class breathing in as one because there it is- undeniable proof that it isn’t a coincidence.

On Aizawa’s feet are the brightest, most vibrantly gay pride socks ever. Each of the 6 colors loop around the material before the pattern repeats, and there’s no white material or anything, just the colors of the flag over and over.

‘Holy shit,’ Mina whisper-shouts, and her smile is blinding. Uraraka giggles. Tokoyami nods sagely and says, ‘The support of a figure of authority is a beacon against the darkness of humanity.’

They do their best to focus on self-study, but there’s a buzz around the class, a happy vibe that permeates the air and saturates it completely. There’s a glob of purple in the corner that seems indifferent, if not actively dismayed, but he goes ignored.

Midoriya writes something in his notebook and puts three stars next to it.

On the third of June, Aizawa has a rainbow hair clip pushing his bangs out of his face, and on the fourth, the soles of his shoes are rainbow and proud.

The competition begins the following Monday.

The thing about class 1A is that they try to support one another in any way possible, to encourage and stand together and everything. The other thing is that they’re hella competitive. It’s a hero course after all, and they’re trying to come out on top and be the best.

And it turns out their teacher, the chilled, nonchalant, mostly uninterested Aizawa Shota, is almost more than a little competitive when it comes to this stuff.

On Monday, Momo uses a pride scrunchie to pull her hair into her signature ponytail. Jirou has a band around her wrist that says love is love is love, and Satou bakes rainbow cookies for the whole class, leaving a few on Aizawa’s desk beforehand.

Their teacher walks in with his hair up again, and when his eyes settle on the cookies, they widen fractionally before he schools his expression into a more neutral one. He greets them all and his eyes flit over Jirou’s band, and the colorful cookie crumbs around the class. When he looks at Momo, she quickly turns her head to the side, showing off her hair accessory that matches his.

Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smile, or even nod, nothing. He just kinda gets down to business. At least, that’s what it would look like to someone on the outside.

But 1A reads him- they watch the way he pushes his hair back, fingers lingering on his scrunchie while he reads out their assignment. They see the way his eyes momentarily linger on the cookies or Jirou’s wrist, such small, quick glances that they all catch because they read him. They know him, and he knows that they know.

When class ends, the room is filled with warm giggles when Aizawa leaves, the plate of cookies in hand.

The next day, Ojiro has a braid in his tail with different threads mixed in there, forming the familiar rainbow pattern. Mina has her horns painted in a pride flag ombre, spanning three different colors on each. Kirishima uses a rainbow hairband to keep his bangs out of his face during training, and Midoriya switches out his black shoelaces for rainbows.

Aizawa’s eyes ping pong around the class, and for a moment everyone wonders how many dress codes they’re breaking but he doesn’t say anything again. He just reads out their assignments as usual, his own pride pin shining brightly on his chest, against the black of his hero uniform.

It’s all fun and games, full of warmth and support until Aizawa starts pulling out the big guns.

Because when Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck, the class collectively realizes- he is challenging them, and beating them quite mercilessly at that.

It’s obvious enough that even Bakugou growls in frustration, and then the games begin.

Mina shaves the word Pride into Iida’s undercut. Kaminari paints his nails. Hagakure replaces all her uniform buttons with multicolored ones. Shoji replaces his teal blue face mask with a pride one, and Uraraka has a few braids on the back of her head too. Satou’s desserts get more and more elaborate, more and more eye-catching and delicious.

The day after Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf, belt and goggles set, Satou stays up the entire night baking, set on paying their teacher back thrice fold.

Morning finds a rainbow croquembouche perched on Aizawa’s desk. Even Bakugou gives Satou a nod of respect because what the fuck? It’s literally a tower of sweets, brightly colored and absolutely delectable, and they get the biggest reaction out of Aizawa yet. His eyes widen, mouth dropping into a shocked little ‘o’, and his eyes immediately seek out Satou, who gives him a wide grin. Shaking his head incredulously, Aizawa conducts his class as usual. It’s a herculean task but he manages.

He still walks out with the entire dish balanced in his hands with great care.

Every teacher in their year has rainbow-colored tongues for the rest of the day.

Aizawa retaliates with eyeshadow. Rainbow eyeshadow. Jirou’s mouth drops, Aoyama starts wailing dramatically and even Todoroki looks impressed. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, and Mina wants revenge.

The entire class comes together for the final showdown. Everyone tries to put color in their hair, though it doesn’t really work for the darker colors. Tokoyami adds a few sprinkles of glitter into his feathers, Iida switches his plain black frames to much more gaudy pride ones, and Todoroki and Bakugou have the most vibrant hair of them all, bright and ridiculous. Aizawa eyes them fondly almost, and that’s when they should’ve realized they were way out of their depth.

Because on June 30th, Aizawa walks into the class, his uniform spick and span, hair down, a ridiculous bounce in his step. Everyone eyes him from head to toe, and when they land on his feet, Kirishima inhales shakily.

‘No,’ he whispers.

‘Oh yes,’ Aizawa answers, his grin far too gleeful.

‘No fucking way,’ Bakugou snarls. His hands are shaking.

‘Language,’ Aizawa admonishes, his smile widening.

‘We’re doomed,’ Mina mumbles.

And right then, Aizawa taps the heels of his shoes together, and his pride rainbow shoes glow up and that’s it. Class 1A has lost. They accept it rather graciously, all things considered. Aizawa cackles like an evil witch, and Sero comforts a weeping Kaminari.

On July 1st, things go back to normal. Mostly normal.

Because Midoriya keeps the shoelaces. Someone sneaks a rainbow charm on Bakugou’s bag that he somehow keeps forgetting to obliterate to pieces. Kirishima doesn’t switch out his hairband, and Ojiro asks Tsuyu to braid his tail when they go out for more casual outings.

And Aizawa? Well, the soles of his hero boots are never quite the same.

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snowdice · 3 years

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?��

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

#proofread stories #not writing

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