#so there's this senior citizen castle
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#elden ring#godrick the grafted#morgott the omen king#godrick#morgott#tarnussymeme#godrick the golden#margit the fell omen#mine#soulsborne#fromsoftware#eldenringedit#elden ring meme#so there's this senior citizen castle#i undressed them 😳
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So the tire-eating potholes in my neighborhood finally killed both my rear tires and I had to get that dealt with, but while they were getting replaced, I put the dogs in puppy daycare and upon picking them up early, the attendant literally sprinted to the front desk, grabbed me by the shoulders and breathlessly exclaimed "YOUNEEDTOCOMESEEWHATYOURDOGSAREDOING"
While she escorted me back to the play yards, she explained that every time they have more than three Corgi, they have to put all the Corgs in a separate play yard because they turn into a little gang and bully the Very Large dogs by playing Cow Herding Simulator 5000 with them, and especially if Herschel is there, because corgis are bossy-pants dogs, and Herschel has the bossiest pants of them all and acts as leader.
Despite being a little Don Corgleone to the short bitch mafia, Hershcel is also a Huge Baby and will apparently cry and cry and try to climb the fence and cry and eat people's shoelaces and cry if he is separated from Charlie during playtime, so this means any time that "Corgi Party" is happening, Charlie also has to go to Corgi party, despite being full-height, running cat software and a senior citizen. he copes with being Gulliver amongst the Liliputians by climbing onto the roof of the playskool castle they have for a climbing structure in the yard, kicking the ladder down behind him, and stretching out to nap in the sun while the corgi frolic and gambol around him.
Corgi are dogs that make up and play games with secret rules, like kindergartners. "Everyone bark in sync" is a popular game, as is "follow the leader" and it's companion game "March in a circle around a tall structure like ants caught in a death loop".
So what I was greeted with, when the attendant and I snuck out to the play yard, was the sight of Charlie, sound asleep and flat on his back with his paws crossed over his chest because sighthounds sleep in the stupidest fucking positions, on top of a faux-medieval castle with gargoyles on the corners, surrounded by approximately seven Corgi, all trotting in a circle around him, barking in sync.
"They look like they're preforming some kind of ritual!" giggled the attendant as attempted to get my phone to focus.
"Yeah, they're gonna summon Corgtulhu." I said.
Unfortunately, this made the attendant literally fall on her ass laughing, and distracted Herschel and his compatriots, so they didn't get to complete the summons, and I didn't get the pic.
The attendant kept laughing because apparently she's new to puns, and had mostly gotten it under control by the time we got everyone's leashes on and back out to the front.
The manager was watching the front desk, bemused. Did you get to see them doing the ritual?"
"YEAH!" shrieks the attendant, still excitable with merriment. "THEY'RE- THEY WERE-" The attendant ends up giggling on the floor.
"You okay there Katie?" asked the manager with minimal concern.
"We think they were trying to summon Corgthulhu." I eplain, and Katie screams from the floor. "Wasn't gonna work though, you need a virgin sacrifice and Charlie had an STD when we got him."
It was the manager's turn to shriek. and for Charlie and Herschel to start barking in solidarity.
"That's right Charlie! Your sluttiness saved the world!" I told him, as he jumped up and kicked me in the face.
Anyway, that's why Charlie's nickname at daycare is now "Superman(whore)"
---
If you found this story amusing, please consider donating to my Ko-fi or pre-ordering the Family Lore book on my Patreon so I can buy the good dogs more treats.
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MC: Huh? Why do I have to go too?
Maleficia: It would be unfair to you if I allowed Malleus to go while you stay here in the castle.
MC: ...
MC: You just don't want me to have a peaceful life, do you?
Maleficia: I love you both as my grandchildren.
MC: *grumpy dragon noises*
Maleficia: Now, now. You need to see if your uniform fits.
MC: I'm burning that school.
Maleficia: You won't do that. That's where you will meet your future in-law, isn't it?
MC: I'm sure they can meet ELSEWHERE!
Maleficia: School romance is the best, dear. At least that's what I've heard from Lilia.
MC: HE'S A BI IN THE ARMY! WHAT DOES HE KNOW ABOUT SCHOOL ROMANCE?!
*Upon their arrival in Night Raven College*
MC and Malleus: ...
*The students fearing Malleus, and at the same time, blushing at the sight of MC*
Lilia: Pft-
Malleus: *glaring at the students*
MC: *looks disgusted* Do these kids know that they're looking at a SENIOR CITIZEN?
Lilia: Hm~ Well, I don't think that would stop them from hitting on you. Right, Malleus?
Lilia: Malleus?
Malleus: *has already approached a student* I will curse you and your whole kind, if you don't stop gawking at my sibling.
MC and Lilia: ...
Silver: Do you think they will be okay?
Sebek: Of course! Waka-sama is there!
Silver: ...
Silver: You know MC is more... *sigh* Never mind.
Sebek: I can't wait to follow them in Night Raven College! I will study hard so Waka-sama won't be disappointed with me!
Silver: Hm. Maybe I should do the same too.
#twisted wonderland#twst mc#twst malleus#twst lilia#twst maleficia#twst draconia siblings#twst silver#twst sebek
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poor shiro cannot catch a fucking break can he. first he gets a crippling disease he's got two years to live. then an angsty wattpad breakup with his boyfriend then he gets kidnapped by aliens and pumped full of alien weed then he crashes on earth with so much walking midlife crisis energy that he gains the skinning puppies to make a fur coat hair, and then he immediately gets shot right back into space by his shittass little brother and weirdo friends with the literal matt clone. then this poor man is made the leader of an alien war, becomes a father to four fuckass teenagers through accidental child acquisition, is forced into the kim kardashian lifestyle by a ginger on drugs, gets kidnapped again, gets cloned, fucking dies, somehow comes back (yeah I'm not really clear about this) then this pathetic wet cat of a man, this stressed jean valjean father of four, experiencing his fourth midlife crisis and millionth mental breakdown, gains that senior citizen swag at twenty five. you could colour match his hair with a polar bear. then he witnesses a walking loreal ad (derogatory) get melted alive, watches a castle get blown up, loses three years in a space time jump and then finds out his ex- fiance who broke up with him right before he left has fucking died in a purple thumb invasion before he got to marry him. but oh no no no that's not the end for this poor sad man. poor guy doesn't get a second to grieve before he is visually assaulted by a less cunty sue sylvester ripoff and her gang of bitchy cheerios (this is admiral s*nda), and yet again made a leader against his will, and shot right back off into space again. then he watches the only other responsible adult in this entire franchise (hot badass space princess who like shiro did not catch a break) sacrifice herself and is left a struggling father. ends up marrying some random fucko. all while suffering through his shitass hot topic brother and blueberry disaster's doomed yaoi romance. oh yeah and he's only got one arm. give the guy a BREAK. FREE my man he doesn't deserve this 🔥🔥
#you have no idea how long it took to type that out#i was in a fit of rage#seriously let him REST#either the writers fucking hated him or they loved him so so much#i know this because whenever i love a character i like to create the most horrific angsty lore for them imaginable#shiro#takashi shirogane#voltron#shadam#adam voltron#no i'm still pissed abt adam literally what the fuck#broganes#klance#they should have called the voltron tv show keeping up with the coalition#voltron legendary disappointment#voltron legendary defender#blue has a fat rant#making ranty posts on tumblr is my way of coping#rant
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prev chapter
-- -- --
There is, honest to God, a coathanger butler and a duster French maid.
“Well, that confirms it,” Lance says, clapping his hands together. “I fell off my horse on the way here and I’ve gone insane.”
“I think you’re just smart, kiddo,” Shiro says, amused. “Perceptive.” He has yet to stop his tour, hopping along rather quickly as Lance follows.
Lance opens his mouth to deny that particular claim – Lance is many things and smart is sure as shit not one of them – but there’s a bellowing shout that interrupts him before he can.
“Ta-kashi!”
Shiro-the-candelabra startles, then goes pale, which is a hilarious thing to witness in a face of wax.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he curses. He makes an effort to hop behind a random sidetable placed against one of the farther walls of the massive corridor, but he’s not nearly fast enough. Rapid, angry clanking sounds precede the appearance of an ornately carved grandfather clock, the face – literally and figuratively, man this castle is fucking weird – twisted in a heavy scowl.
“Takashi,” the clock hisses again. “What part of ‘united front' is hard for you to understand?”
Caught completely red-handed, Shiro straightens himself up and attempts to look dignified. “You were busy with Keith! What was I supposed to do, let this one wander around? I was –”
“You were supposed to wait for me, Takashi! Last time –”
It would probably be prudent for Lance to continue listening, as any information he learns is for the better. But as soon as Shiro says Keith’s name, Lance’s ears check out, the world in front of him goes blurry, and he starts to feel like he’s deep underwater.
It hits him, all at once and intensely, that this is really happening. He is, sometime in the frighteningly near future, going to meet his future husband. His future husband who is known across the country to be one of the most vile men in temper ever to exist, who is impossible to love. His future husband who has money, money that Lance can send back to his family that can never manage to get food on the table for every mouth on every day of the week. The future husband who Lance cannot leave, unlike the people before him, because if he does then the family farm will sell and everyone will be homeless and it will lie on his shoulders.
If he fails, his family will never look at him again, the shame will be so strong. The kids – they’ll be uprooted if they have to sell the farm and move away. He can’t do that to them. And yes, his family’s betrayal still aches like a gaping wound in his chest (they didn’t want to keep him Mamà didn’t want to keep him only three wanted to keep him and he doesn’t know who they sent him away the town sent him away his family sent him away everyone he’s ever known decided they were better off without him), but he doesn’t – he can’t let their saving grace slip between his fingers. If he fails then his greatest fears are confirmed – he is the failure that he’s always known he is.
But If he succeeds, he will be locked for life in an enchanted castle that feels as if it doubles as a tomb.
Suddenly Lance is sick to his stomach.
“–ance? Lance? You okay, kiddo?”
Lance shakes himself from his thoughts, eyes focusing on the concerned faces in front of him. He clears his throat, straightening his shoulders and plastering a smile on his face.
He will not fail. He will not. It is the lesser of two evils, to succeed, so he must.
“Yeah, sorry. Just remembered something, is all. I meant to look for something to feed my horse when I came in here, there’s no hay in the stable, but I forgot with all the –” he glances at the clock and candelabra, wondering how to phrase the clusterfuck that is now my life tripped me up, my bad delicately – “the… hubbub.”
Hubbub.
Alrighty. That’s the word he’s going with. That’s fine. He’s totally cool with suddenly becoming a bitter senior citizen loudly complaining about the youths. All is well.
Despite his strangeness, the two people (??) in front of him visibly soften.
“Sorry, dear,” the clock says. He clanks forward and extends one of his arms – shiny, carved gold decals of the sides of a grandfather clock – to shake. Lance does. “My name is Adam. I imagine you must be exhausted. Would you like to see your room?
That sounds excellent. Lance sags at the suggestion, shoulders slumping forward and sigh escaping his lungs without his position. His own room in the castle…what will that look like? He’s always shared a bed with someone, back home. And sometimes he is kicked and sometimes people snore and sometimes people squiggle around and hog blankets and talk in their sleep. Sometimes people even pick their toes, completely unconscious, and refuse to believe him when he complains about it in the morning. Such is the life of a large family in a small house.
Lance will have a bed to his own, now. A room, even! It’s almost unfeasible. He’s expecting something huge; giant windows making up a whole wall at least to let the sun it, impossibly high ceilings, a bed as big as his house once was, with a canopy over the sides of it. As plush as goose down and soft as Kaltenecker’s – his favourite of their family’s cows – fur. Cream walls, maybe, prime for him to paint.
Paint! He’s sure he’ll have paint here. The richest of colours, even, and paintbrushes he doesn’t have to make from kinky horse hair. And he’s sure he’ll have time, here, outside of whatever chores he’s expected to do, to ride Blue around the grounds. Maybe, for once in his life, he can enjoy his day outside of fleeting moments with the animals, or Veronica, or the twins. Maybe there will be more time outside of fleeting minutes when he watches the sun rise. Maybe he will have freedom here, to explore what he likes, and in luxury, no less.
Wait.
His brow furrows. Freedom…he won’t be free. He may be surrounded by more opulence than he ever expected to see in three lifetimes, but freedom is still a luxury he can’t afford.
“What about Ke –” he stumbles over the name – “the Prince?”
Shiro and Adam exchange the least subtle look Lance has ever seen on a human, let alone a grandfather clock and a candelabra. It would be funny if it weren’t so troubling.
“What about him?” Shiro says carefully.
Lance blinks at him. “Is his royal highness too busy to meet the guy he’s literally about to marry, or…?”
“We just figured you would prefer to settle yourself, first.” Adam says it quickly, practiced, obvious; confirming Lance’s suspicions.
There is something afoot.
“I’m pretty settled, actually. All good in the hood. Checked off most of the list, tick tick tick. I just need to meet Prince Temper-tantrum.”
Both royal attendants laugh nervously.
“Ah, we’ll get there,” Shiro assures. He hops forward, pointing his candle to the hallway, indicating that Lance should follow him. “We have time, no? It’s late. Dinner will be ready soon. No need.”
He and Adam are very persistent, all but shoving Lance out of the front entrance and to a massive staircase. One of them must have sent the word of Lance’s arrival, because one of the branched-off hallways of the staircase – a wing? Is that what it’s called? Why must rich people label stupid things – is illuminated, clearing the path Lance is meant to take to his new room. The other is as dark as the rest of the castle, cold and isolating, reeking of angst and cowardice and a smidge of superiority, too, because reputation or not, what kind of jackass doesn’t at least introduce themselves to their future husband?
Suddenly, it all kind of boils over. Lance roots himself in the middle of some grand marble hallway and, ignoring Shiro and Adam’s frantic pleading, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts: “Hey, Prince of Darkness! Is it too beneath you to say hello to your future husband, you beastly man?”
His voice echoes throughout the castle, shout bouncing off the carved stone walls and getting louder, somehow. Lance stands, glaring at the dark hallway, fists clenched at his sides, fury still lighting up his veins. But then a minute passes, and another, without so much as a peep of movement, and rage starts to trickle out of his body in favour of something like regret.
He has one job, here. He is to make nice and play the silent husband so he can get funds back to his family, and no one goes hungry. He is supposed to avoid Prince Keith at any and all possible moments, keeping his head down and living his life as separately and as well as he can given the circumstances. And Adam and Shiro were perfectly happy to let him do so, too, guiding him to his room before he even had to breathe in Prince Keith’s direction.
Him and his big fucking mouth. Clearly, there is more than one person in this castle with a temper.
He turns to the candle and the clock. “Sorry,” he mutters, averting his eyes. Hopefully they don’t call this whole thing off. He doesn’t think they will – from what Shiro implied, they seem kind of desperate – but still. He shouldn’t push his luck.
When Shiro and Adam don’t respond, he looks up, expecting to find them disappointed, but instead finding them not looking at him at all. He frowns, taking in the way their faces have dropped, the way they’ve both gone pale. As pale as bloodless things can be, anyway. He follows their line of sight, shifting his body to face the farthest end of the dark corridor, and squints, trying to make out what they’re so white about. It takes him a moment to pick it out, but eventually he sees it, almost glowing in the darkness – a pair of large, yellow eyes. And…
Teeth?
Lance blinks. He rubs his eyes. He looks again.
Where the mouth would be, under the eyes, are massive, fang-like teeth, glowing white in the dark shadows. They are not human. They are not even animal. Lance is not sure what they resemble, aside from monstrous. A chill runs down his spine.
Slowly, silently, the way a wolf might stalk towards prey it knows it has trapped, the shrouded face comes closer, slinking in the shadows. Lance follows it, head tilting higher and higher as he begins to realise how tall this face sits on a still-invisible body; how large this…thing, animal or man, truly is. Closer and closer it steps, until Lance can hear its breaths, until Lance can feel the heat from its body from where it stands, in the last stretch of the shadows.
Lance swallows.
“Who are you?” he asks. His voice is surprisingly steady, although his hands tremble.
Finally, the figure steps out into the light. Dark purple fur is all Lance can see; covering the figure in thick, uneven swaths; large brow drawn tight over his slitted yellow eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl, fangs pushing out from his lips, clawed hands clenched in fists, talons clinking on the floor as he steps closer. Ornate clothing covers his body, heavy red cloak draped over his shoulders, materials Lance can recognise as sturdy and well-dyed and rich.
The figure bends low, close to Lance’s face. “I am as you say, dear future husband.”
“You’re a – an actual –” Lance stammers.
Prince Keith growls, low in his throat.
“A beast.”
———
next chapter
#PART TWOOOOOOOO#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#keith#keith kogane#galra keith#klance#pre klance#shiro#takashi shirogane#adam#adam w#adashi#established adashi#Beauty and the Beast AU#batb au#shiro & lance#adam & keith#lance angst#langst#keith angst#arranged marriage#alternate universe#autistic lance#my writing#longpost
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Am I the asshole for killing my fiance's Grandfather because I was nervous he would ruin my marriage?
My fiance (21) has a grandfather (85) who came to visit me in my castle recently because we're getting married. He seemed like a normal guy at first, but after a while i noticed he had strange habits.
He was singing Tiktoks, despite being old. He also looked really fucking old. and he smelled old. Besides, he wanted to live in the castle with me, but that's reserved for me and my fiance, and my son the beautiful egg, Richarlyson (1 month). So, so he would have a place to sleep, I made a prison in my dungeon for him and even asked for a list of items that he wanted. I did everything he asked for... made a TV. Built a cross for him to pray, a comfortable bed. and still he didn't seem happy with the situation, and told me he'd call my fiance to tell him i was putting him in a dungeon.
I've killed some people in the past, but i changed. But in that moment I lost control and realized that senior citizen was trying to ruin my marriage and by accident when I'd realized I saw i had stabbed him some times (16). but he survived. Thus, everything was fine. But then he threatened me with a chainsaw and told me he would stop my marriage. I love my fiance. When i was alone and no one was there for me, not even my son could be close to me because it was dangerous, he was there. We've been through tough times together and got through it all.
It won't be this person who I don't even know who will ruin this because I tried to kill them. So, I threw him from the veranda of my castle and stabbed him on the floor with a sword.
Am i the asshole for trying to save my wedding by killing my grandpa?
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The climax of Professor Layton and Pandora's Box is so funny. Like yeah the sword fight with the 80 year old, the 50 year grudge on his ex — not what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about the dinner with Anton. About the ball. About Layton and Luke being tied up in a cave and making their escape. About Katya telling them the place is dangerous and they need to leave.
Given that the sole inhabitant of the castle is a single senior citizen who's received no healthcare for half a century, she's clearly not talking about him. She's talking about the fact that they're all sitting on the biggest gas leak ever recorded and they're all TRIPPING BALLS
Picture her going in there relatively drug-free since she knows the true story and stumbling upon these two vague acquaintances high as the sky in the foyer
Literally who knows what parts of what's been happening to them actually happened. The ball was clearly a hallucination, so were they ever tied up in that basement? Did they even meet with Anton at all? Or have they just been sitting on imaginary furniture and talking to the air for two hours and never even left the foyer? It's so much funnier not to know
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Obey Me! MC’s Grandma Part 2
If you haven’t read part 1 featuring the 7 Brothers, here it is.
Ft. the 4 dateables + Luke
C/W: none
DIAVOLO 👑
Diavolo was the one who received your mother’s call. Your Grandma’s staying in Devildom for a month was unexpected, but Diavolo welcomed her with utmost sincerity. It helped his wish to bring peace to the Three Realms after all.
For a first few days, Diavolo didn’t have time to ask about your Grandma. On the 7th day, he had the time so he asked Barbatos to deliver an invitation to the Demon Lord’s Castle to your Grandma.
Your Grandma was invited to Diavolo’s afternoon tea, where he told her about his dream of peace between the Three Realms, and he asked for her opinion because he knew senior’s opinion is respected in Human World.
At the same tea party, Grandma told Diavolo stories about a king who disguises himself to visit his citizen without all the pompous ceremonies and attention.
Diavolo absolutely adored the idea. He tried it out the same night. But, alas, Diavolo’s appearance is just so stand out that a lot of demons recognized him right away. Finally, Diavolo had to get Solomon to help him with a great appearance changing spell.
A week after your Grandma had returned to Human World, Diavolo received a letter encouraging him to keep going on the path he had chosen. Diavolo also received a lot of books about great human monarchs in history.
BARBATOS ⏳
Barbatos’s specialty is making high-end luxurious dessert, and he’s always eager to expand his horizons with Eastern and lower cost dessert. And your Grandma, who knows how to make the latter, was whom Barb needed.
One day, Barbatos invited your Grandma to his kitchen in the Demon Lord’s Castle to discuss about dessert. The following day, Barbatos served Diavolo new kind of dessert which many people enjoy in the countryside.
Barb reminded Grandma of an old friend, who was also a butler for a rich family long ago, when Grandma was still in her teen or 20s. The rich family left, maybe because of they were bankrupt, or the patriarch committed a serious crime leading to all their riches confiscated, Grandma wasn’t sure: there were a lot of rumors. Grandma’s butler friend left with that family. They lost contact ever since.
Barbatos did look into a matter, it wasn’t a happy ending for the loyal steward, he died protecting his master. When Barb told Grandma, she just sighed and said calmly: “That’s life.” When you have lived long enough, learning that an old friend is already dead is not uncommon. Grandma’s used to it. When she learned the news, she accepted it as it is.
After your Grandma came back to the Human Realm, the Royal Steward and kind-hearted old woman still exchanged letters to discuss about dessert recipes and many other things about their lives.
LUKE 🐕
Luke called your Grandma “Grandma” the first time they met because:
Grandma gives grandma vibe. So he has the urge to call her Grandma.
The boy didn’t want to be disrespectful to the elder so he didn’t want to call her by her name.
Similar to Barbatos, Luke learned from Grandma many simple, affordable yet delicious dessert recipes.
Luke prayed that Archangel Michael would protect Grandma during her earthly life and conduct her to Heaven after death.
Once, Luke did something embarrassing and you laughed. Grandma immediately said “Don’t laugh at Luke. You were just like him when you were little.”
You’re no longer Grandma’s favorite grandchild, Luke is.
SIMEON 📝
Simeon was happy because he got to meet a member of your birth family whom you love dearly. And he was also happy because Grandma was terrible at tech.
Simeon lamented because Grandma adapted better than him to tech. Even if she doesn’t know how to type because she’s illiterate, Grandma could still communicate through emoji (⌒▽⌒)
On one occasion, Grandma was invited to a sleepover at the Purgatory Hall. There, she and Simeon talked about myths, stories, legends (including horror stories), that Grandma heard when she lived in the countryside. Simeon incorporated those stories into his writings.
Based on true story I heard from a lovely Grandma. Simeon wrote at the end of his book.
SOLOMON 🔮
Solomon noticed that no one feared his cooking anymore after your Grandma came to the Devildom. He loves everyone’s scared faces, c’mon show him.
After he learnt that your Grandma provided all of you medicine that helped neutralize the effect of his cooking, Solomon challenged Grandma to a cooking contest.
The result? You don’t need to ask? Of course Grandma won. She won with her talent and cooking skills, loved by all the judges and examiners, who were actually you and the boys.
“Remember this, I’ll get my revenge.” “Next time, I won’t lose.” Solomon told your Grandma.
This stayed in my draft for 3 months. Nearly forgot about it.
If you read this till the end, please consider reblog <3.
TAGLIST
@yourboyhack here’s the part 2 you wanted
#obey me#om! shall we date#obey me shall we date#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#om! diavolo#om! barbatos#om! luke#om! simeon#om! solomon#obey me headcanons#omswd
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Where Her Heart Belongs (my CSSNS story)
This is my first contribution to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event, and it wouldn’t be possible without many people.
First of all, thank you to the CSSNS 2022 mods for having this event.
I am beyond excited to be paired with @winterbythesea, who created not one, but FOUR absolutely gorgeous pieces of art for this story! Her banner is at the top, and the other three pieces are scattered throughout the story. I only hope it is worthy of her beautiful work!
Thank you to @hookedmom, who read over the story at least a dozen times to help me plot and make it as error free and enjoyable to read as possible. Thanks also to @winterbythesea and @snowbellewells, who read over it to give me suggestions and feedback. It has definitely come a long way since the first draft!
Story summary: In the Land Without Magic, Emma Swan is quietly living her solitary life. When she finds a unique storybook in the library, strange things begin to happen. A canon divergent story which started out based on the movie “Somewhere in Time”, but evolved into something else entirely.
Rating: T
Words: 9191
Also found on ffn and Ao3
*********
Emma Swan pushed through the doors of the Columbus Public Library and inhaled the familiar scent of paper and ink. She knew many people relied on various forms of technology to do their research and reading these days, but in her opinion, nothing was better than the feeling of having an actual book in her hands.
“Good morning!” greeted the man at the circulation desk.
“Good morning,” Emma returned, looking at him curiously as she placed the books she had finished reading in the return slot. In all the times she had come to the library, she’d never seen this man working before - he must be new.
“Looking for anything in particular today?”
“Umm…I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just follow wherever my mood takes me.”
“You should check out our new fairytales section on the second floor,” the man said, gesturing toward the staircase to his left.
“Oh, uh, thanks. I might check it out a little later,” Emma replied.
“Be sure you do. I think you’ll find something there that will spark your interest.” He threw her a warm, dimpled smile, before resuming his typing. Emma’s curiosity about the man was piqued even more when she noticed that instead of using a computer, he was using an old-fashioned, manual typewriter.
She walked through the adult non-fiction section and peeked into the periodicals corner, where several retired senior citizens were reading newspapers. When she reached the area containing adult fiction, she ran her finger across several of the bindings and pulled out a few books to read the summaries on the back cover. None of them drew her attention, so she decided to go upstairs to search for the area the librarian recommended.
Every now and then, she liked to check out picture books, graphic novels or books for younger readers. She rarely had the opportunity to visit libraries when she was growing up in the foster system, so she ignored the social conventions and selected whatever struck her fancy.
She preferred coming to the library in the late morning when it wasn’t very busy, since most young patrons were in school. The quiet solitude of being among her beloved books was a balm that renewed her soul, and restored the faith in the goodness of mankind that her job as a bail bondsperson often depleted.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she glanced around and didn’t immediately see the new section, but something instinctively told her to turn right and go around the corner at the end of the aisle. There, she saw two very realistic columns decorated to look like those that would belong inside a castle. As she stepped between them, she took in the dozens of books neatly stacked on the shelves.
After collecting a couple of books with gilded edges, she carried them to a nearby armchair to peruse them. Losing herself in the stories, she was unaware how much time had passed, until she pulled her attention away from one of the books and checked the display on her phone.
When she glanced around the perimeter of the area, her eyes were drawn to an oversized book sticking out over the edge of the top shelf. Rising from her chair, she approached the shelf and reached up with one hand to slide the book toward herself. Realizing too late she had misjudged its weight, she tried to grab it with her other hand, but failed to catch it. The book clattered to the floor, flipping open to a page which revealed a very detailed color illustration. She looked around in embarrassment before bending down to pick up the book. Upon getting a better look at the picture, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
The full-page image featured an extremely handsome, but dangerous-looking man. He was dressed in a black leather coat with a high collar, a black blousy shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and wore a chain with numerous charms around his neck. He was holding the ship’s wheel and had a hook in the place of his left hand. Mesmerized by his cornflower blue eyes and his dark, wind-blown hair, Emma dropped down to her knees to get a closer look.
Scanning the words on the opposite page, she understood this was the story of Killian Jones, also known as Captain Hook. “Holy shit! That doesn’t look like any Captain Hook I’ve ever seen,” she commented under her breath.
She marked the place with the attached ribbon and closed the cover to see the title, Once Upon a Time, embossed in gold on the rich, brown leather cover. There was no author’s name, so she presumed it was a compilation of fairy tales, and saw more brightly colored illustrations as she skimmed through its pages. It seemed to be written as one ongoing story, which encompassed many well-known and lesser-known fairy tale characters including Snow White, Prince Charming, Pinocchio, and many others.
“Excuse me.”
Emma looked up to see a boy who appeared to be about twelve-years-old looking down at her. Her brows raised as she said, “Do you need something?”
A brief flash of disappointment flitted across his face, before he gestured to the storybook on the floor in front of where she knelt and asked, “Can I see that book?”
“Umm,” she pondered, reluctantly closing it and picking it up. “Actually, I’m planning to check it out.”
He threw her a skeptical look. “Why? It’s a kids’ book.”
Emma pulled it to her chest and crossed her arms over it protectively. “Adults can like fairy tales, too,” she informed him defensively.
Tilting his head, he studied her. “Do you believe they’re true?”
“What? Of course not! They’re just made-up stories.”
“Then maybe you don’t deserve to read them.”
Emma tamped down the annoyance she could feel bubbling under the surface. “Are you telling me you think stories about talking animals and wooden puppets turning into real boys are true?”
The boy shrugged. “Why not? Some people believed they could send a man to the moon, even when everyone else thought they were crazy.”
“I don’t think that’s the same thing, kid.”
“But you don’t know that for a fact, do you?”
“Henry?” a voice called, then the woman to whom it belonged came around the corner of the bookshelf. “Oh, there you are. We need to get going. Do you have all your books selected?”
The boy, Henry, turned to Emma once more with an imploring look. She expected him to plead for the storybook again, so his next words surprised her. “Read it with the heart of the truest believer.” Then he reached down to pick up the other books Emma had set aside and raised his brows at her in question. When she nodded her assent for him to take them, he gave her a huge grin then hurried off to join the dark-haired woman in the navy pantsuit, whom Emma assumed to be his mother.
Emma stared after him for several moments, then shook her head and slowly pushed to her feet. The heart of the truest believer? What the hell did he mean by that?
When she got to the circulation desk, the man who greeted her when she first arrived was no longer there, nor was the typewriter. As she handed the oversized storybook to the woman she usually saw working at the desk, she noticed the books the boy had taken with him sitting on the counter. “Guess the kid decided not to get those after all,” she commented.
“Who?” the woman asked, searching for a bar code on the book.
“The kid who brought these books here to check out.”
She glanced up with a quizzical look. “You’re the only person who has come to the desk in almost twenty minutes.”
“Oh. Well, I guess you must have missed him, then.”
Her brows raised even higher. “I haven’t moved from this spot since I came to work over an hour ago. If somebody came to the desk, I would have definitely seen them.”
Emma’s eyes widened in confusion. “But I just talked to him a couple of minutes ago, in the fairy tale section.”
“What fairy tale section?” the worker questioned, giving up the search for the bar code and raising her eyes to meet Emma’s.
“The new one upstairs. That’s where he got those books, and where I found this one,” she said, pointing at the one titled Once Upon a Time.
The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly puzzled. “I don’t know anything about a new section up there.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “I was on vacation last week, so maybe they added it while I was gone. Funny, the director didn’t tell me anything about it, though. I wonder if they set it up for a book signing.”
“The guy working at the desk when I arrived told me about it,” Emma informed her.
“Guy? I’m the only one working here today.”
“But…he was here…and he was typing and…” Emma stammered, clearly at a loss to explain all the odd things which were happening. The look on the other woman’s face was a mixture of confusion and a little fear, probably for Emma’s sanity. “I…I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well the last couple of nights and I, um…maybe I dozed off up there and had a weird dream…or something,” she finished lamely.
The woman cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked down at the book she was still holding in her hands. “I, uh, I don’t ever remember seeing this book before.”
“Can…can I still check it out?” Emma asked, surprised to find that she was going to be very disappointed if she couldn’t.
The librarian started to shake her head, and then saw the hopefulness in the other woman’s eyes. Emma Swan was one of the most frequent patrons at the library. Because most stakeouts were in the evening, her job allowed her to visit during the day, and she took full advantage of it.
It made the worker’s heart happy to see someone who still loved turning the physical pages of a book, instead of reading them digitally, so she just couldn’t bring herself to deny the request. “Um, okay,” she said, “let me just add it into the system first.” She tapped on the computer keyboard, her eyebrows drawing closer together with every second that passed. “This must be brand new; it’s not even showing in our inventory yet.” She glanced up to see Emma biting her lip and looking crestfallen.
The librarian made a split-second decision and handed the book to the woman in front of her. “I tell you what, I’ll loan it to you anyway and add it to the system when you return it. I’m sure you’ll take very good care of it.”
Emma eagerly accepted it with a bright smile on her face, reverently running her hand over the leather cover as she murmured, “Yes, of course I will,” in a distracted voice.
After the librarian wrote down the title, she glanced up and asked, “Are you checking out anything else?” but didn’t receive an answer, because Emma had already turned to walk out the front doors, her hands still caressing the book like it was a precious treasure.
*********
Emma was almost at the bottom of the library steps before she realized it was raining. “Typical Ohio weather,” she mumbled. The sun had been shining when she left home, so she decided to walk and hadn’t bothered to bring an umbrella. Scanning the dark clouds, she realized the rain wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so she quickly secured the book against her chest, wrapped her red leather jacket around it, then began quickly walking the six blocks home, dodging other people on the sidewalk.
By the time she reached her apartment building, she was drenched, her hair soaked and sticking to her face, and her shoes making squelching sounds as she walked up the three flights of stairs.
She unlocked her door with shaking fingers and entered, setting the deadbolt and chain locks once she was inside. Removing the book from inside her jacket, she was relieved to see it was mostly dry and undamaged. She was dying to sit down and begin reading in the comfortable confines of her home, but the rain was chilly and she knew she needed a hot shower and some hot chocolate to warm herself up, first.
After having her hot cocoa and a late lunch, she finally sat down an hour later, eagerly pulled the book into her lap and began slowly turning the pages, contentedly soaking in the colorful illustrations and reading it with bated breath. She was so completely enthralled with the tale of the Evil Queen casting a curse over the town and freezing time for twenty-eight years, she again lost all track of time.
Over four hours had passed when the print on the page became difficult to read and she realized dusk had fallen. “Shit!” she cursed, scrambling up from the couch and laying the storybook on her kitchen counter. She was setting a honey trap for the skip she was trying to catch, and was supposed to meet him at a restaurant in less than twenty minutes. She scurried into her bedroom, quickly changed into a dress, applied some makeup, threw on heels, pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, then grabbed her purse and keys.
Casting one last, longing look at the book, she debated taking it with her, just in case the guy didn’t show and the evening turned into a stakeout. Ultimately deciding against it, she left the apartment.
*********
It was after midnight when she returned, limping and sore from having to chase and tackle the imbecile who thought leading her on a footrace through the downtown area was a good idea. He was sitting in jail now, and she had a tidy sum to deposit into her checking account, but it came at the cost of a twisted ankle and bruised ribs.
After gingerly changing into yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, she draped her damaged dress over the wooden chair in her bedroom, then tugged the elastic band out of her hair. As she brushed out the tangles, she winced, the movement pulling at her tender rib cage. “Stupid asshole,” she grumbled.
Truth be told, it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered her the most, but rather the sting of his words when she berated him for skipping out on his court date, after the wife he was supposed to love bailed him out. “What do you know about love? Nobody would ever love you!” he had spat at her.
“Nothing. I know nothing about love,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sighing, she shuffled into the kitchen to toss some ice cubes in a ziplock bag for her ankle and get a bottle of water. The book on the counter caught her attention and she almost picked it up, but knew it would lift her spirits, and chose to wallow in her misery instead.
She hobbled to the couch and slumped down on it, propped her foot on the coffee table and placed the ice bag across her ankle, making adjustments until it remained stationary. Rummaging between the cushions, she located the remote and flicked on the television, mindlessly scrolling through the guide, until she settled on a rewatch of Iron Man 2. After attempting to focus her attention for ten minutes, she gave up and decided to go to bed. She lay sleepless for most of the night, with the words of the guy she hauled to the police station echoing in her head.
*********
As Emma dragged herself out of bed the next morning, the aches and pains from the previous night hit her full-force; it was all she could do to get into the shower and allow the hot spray to wash over her sore body. Days like this made her wish she had a bathtub, but that was one luxury that didn’t come with her apartment.
After two cups of coffee, a couple of cherry Pop-Tarts, a dose of ibuprofen, and more ice applied to her ankle, she felt halfway human again. She was relieved it was Saturday, giving her the whole day to rest. Opting to leave the television off, she settled onto the sofa with the storybook propped on her lap and started reading where she left off.
When she reached the story of Pinocchio, it began the same as the original with the woodcarver creating a wooden puppet, who then became a real boy. However, this version went on to tell what happened after the boy grew up and became a man. He began turning back into wood, because he didn’t prove to be brave, selfless and true.
Studying the drawing of the man with the wooden features, Emma couldn’t help but notice the similarity between him and the man she saw, or thought she saw, at the library circulation desk. The hair, eyes, jawline and other features all bore a striking resemblance to the person whom Emma had nearly convinced herself was a figment of her imagination. “That’s just a weird coincidence,” she mumbled, finally turning the page to the beginning of the next tale.
By the time her stomach started growling, it was one o’clock and she was just finishing the story of the Mad Hatter. She was intrigued by the fact that every story in the book had its own unique plot, rather than following the well-known, traditional one.
She heated up two slices of leftover pizza, took more pain medication, then sat on the couch, reapplied ice, and leafed through the book to inspect more of the illustrations. Upon reaching the story of Peter Pan and the image of Captain Hook, she spent an inordinate amount of time studying the handsome pirate, taking in every minute detail.
When she finally decided to peel her eyes away from the picture to continue flipping through several more pages, she suddenly sat bolt upright. “What the hell?”
The illustration showed two people dancing at what appeared to be a royal ball. She easily recognized Killian Jones, even though he was wearing a brown, high-collared frock coat and a white shirt with ruffled cuffs, instead of his pirate garb. But it was the woman with whom he was dancing who drew her attention the most. She wore a bright red, floor-length ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves, her blonde hair swept up in a simple updo adorned with a jeweled headband. Emma stared at the woman’s face and its familiar features - the same ones she saw every time she looked in the mirror.
She was looking at a picture of herself dancing with the infamous Captain Hook.
It had to be a mistake. Maybe it was someone who just resembled her and she hadn’t examined it closely enough to see the differences in their appearance. Maybe the artist saw her or her picture somewhere and used her likeness.
Emma let the ice bag slide off her ankle as she put both feet on the floor and bent over the book. Even though the drawing wasn’t super-realistic, it was still detailed enough to see that the resemblance was uncanny.
“Don’t be an idiot, Emma,” she murmured. “It’s just a weird coincidence. There’s no way this is a picture of you in a book of fairy tales.” She continued to carefully examine the illustration, concentrating on finding any possible differences between herself and the woman in the drawing.
The problem was, she knew it was her. She felt it in her very soul.
Tearing her eyes away from the drawing, she quickly read a couple of paragraphs from the story on the opposite page. It told of the couple attending a royal ball in disguise in order to retrieve a ring stolen from Prince Charming by Snow White. When she read that the woman in the red dress was identified as Princess Leia and her partner as Prince Charles, Emma barked out a laugh.
She shifted her eyes back to the right, once again drinking in the image of the dancing couple. After staring at the page for a prolonged amount of time, she found herself whispering, “Killian Jones” over and over, enjoying how his name tasted on her tongue, feeling like it was familiar and somehow very important.
As she continued to repeat it, she gently stroked her fingers across the page, then let out a gasp. The tips of her fingers seemed to sink into the paper, creating a ripple like that of a stone plopping into water. She drew them back quickly, before swallowing hard and hesitantly touching them to the surface again. This time, nothing happened, causing her to frown. “Now I’m either hallucinating or my imagination is running wild,” she chastised herself.
Shuffling her bare feet on the carpet, her right one encountered a wet puddle. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, realizing the ice in the plastic bag must have melted and leaked. She laid the open book on the coffee table, collected the offending bag from the floor, and pushed herself up off the couch to limp into the kitchen for a towel.
Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she was shocked to see it was after seven. No wonder all of the ice turned to water, and the sky outside her window was beginning to darken. She could hardly believe how quickly time passed every time she sat down to read this book.
Shaking her head, she decided to make a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of nachos covered with cheese and leftover taco meat. As she waited for the milk to heat in the microwave, she started to move dreamily around the kitchen. She crossed the room to get the shredded cheese out of the refrigerator, and realized that despite her sore ankle, she was attempting to dance a waltz. Although she had never done that particular dance before, she recognized it as one she had seen other people do on television and in movies. “You’re losing it, Emma,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself.
Cracking open a fresh bottle of water, she took more ibuprofen, replaced the cap and tucked the bottle under her arm. Juggling the plate of nachos and mug of cocoa, she returned to the living room. The entire time she was eating, she was absentmindedly humming.
Just as she was about to stuff another nacho into her mouth, her jaw dropped and so did the chip, right into her lap. Maybe she had hit her head tackling the skip and didn’t realize it. She was hallucinating again, because the figures in the book appeared to be moving around the dance floor in time with the music she was humming.
After quickly wiping her hands off on a napkin, she rubbed her eyes, then looked at the page again. The couple on the page was stagnant and unmoving. “Of course they are,” she reprimanded herself. “People in drawings don’t move. I’m losing my mind, or maybe I have a concussion. I should probably get it checked.”
She cleaned up the mess from the dropped nacho and threw away what was left on the paper plate, her appetite gone as she pondered what she thought she had witnessed. Deciding she was overly tired, she went into the bedroom to change into pajamas, brushed her teeth, and then climbed into bed.
Sleep didn’t come easily, but when she finally succumbed, Emma dreamed of dancing with Killian Jones. She could almost feel his arm around her waist, and hear his deep, accented voice as he uttered that she appeared to be a natural.
*********
One advantage to being an independent bail bonds person was that she could set her own hours. For the next three days, Emma stayed home to nurse her wounds, and nearly every minute of it was spent poring over the book. She read every tale with the excitement of a child, then went back and read them again.
Every time she came across a mention of Killian Jones, or his more colorful moniker, Captain Hook, she marked the spot so she could go back to it over and over. She felt a connection to him that she was hard-pressed to understand.
The illustration of him dancing with the lady in red drew her attention most of all. The more she read the accompanying story and closely examined the drawing, the more she was convinced it was actually her waltzing with the handsome captain. She knew it didn’t make sense, but it was impossible for her to think otherwise.
She experienced four more moments of seeing the figures in the book move in front of her eyes, and twice felt her fingers dip into the surface of the page again, each time feeling a strange, but warm, tingling sensation. It always happened when she was so engrossed in the words and pictures, that she almost put herself into a trance.
As she lay in bed one night after one of these episodes, her mind started spinning in a bizarre direction. If she could break into the page with her fingertips, was it possible to transport herself into the book?
She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, berating herself for having such ridiculous thoughts; but no matter how much she tried to block the idea, it continued to niggle at her brain. If she could get into the book, maybe she could meet Killian Jones.
*********
On Wednesday morning, after hardly getting any sleep the night before, she took her torn dress to the seamstress down the street. Since damaged clothes tended to be a regular outcome of her job, she was very familiar with the two women who worked there.
When she entered the shop, she was startled by the sound of a tinkling bell above the door. “That’s new, isn’t it?” she asked, looking behind her to see the small, gold bell.
“Yes, but it’s nice, don’t you think?” a voice answered, and when Emma turned, she didn’t recognize the person to whom it belonged. Standing there instead was a petite, fair-skinned woman with short, dark hair, sparkling green eyes and a bright smile. Emma sensed something recognizable about her, but couldn’t quite place it.
“Uh, sure,” she said absent-mindedly. “You, um, you’re new too, aren’t you? It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been here. When did you start working?”
The woman cocked her head to the left before responding, giving Emma the impression she was trying to figure out how to answer. “I, um…I started very recently.” Her smile following this statement was almost secretive. Then she stretched her hands toward the dress in Emma’s hands. “How can I help you?”
“There are several beads missing and a couple of minor tears that need to be sewn.” Emma laid the garment on the counter and proceeded to point out the damage.
“Oh, those look like they can easily be fixed. Give us a day or two.”
“A day or two? It usually takes at least a week.”
The other woman’s smile faded a tiny bit, before she recovered to say, “Well, we haven’t been very busy lately, so it won’t take as long.”
“Okay…that’s, um, that’s great,” Emma said, still trying to figure out why the other woman looked so familiar.
“Just come back Saturday morning and we’ll have this waiting for you, good as new.”
Emma nodded, but didn’t turn to go, causing the dark-haired woman’s forehead to crease in obvious confusion. “Was there something else?”
“Shouldn’t you give me a claim ticket?”
“A…oh, yes! Just a second.” The woman searched somewhat frantically under the counter until she finally straightened up with a yellow slip of paper in her hand. She held it out to Emma, who took it and deliberately tore it along the perforated line, then handed the smaller piece back. The woman accepted it hesitantly, clearly unsure what to do with it.
“Are you, uh…are you going to pin that to my dress?”
“Pin it. Of course!” Her eyes fell on the small box of safety pins sitting next to the cash register, and she quickly plucked one out and pinned the yellow tag to the light blue material of the dress. “There. That should do it!” she crowed triumphantly.
“Thank you. I’ll, um, I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it!” the woman chirped.
Emma gave her one last puzzled glance, then turned and headed out the door, startled once again by the slightly obnoxious little bell.
She was halfway home when she suddenly stopped stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the man behind her to sidestep quickly to avoid a collision. Oblivious to his glare and perturbed eye roll as he moved past her, she snapped her fingers and firmly stated, “That’s it! She’s Snow White!”
*********
Throughout the rest of the week, Emma encountered several more people who closely resembled fairytale characters she’d read about in the book. ‘Red Riding Hood’ waited on her when she went to the diner down the street, ‘the Mad Hatter’ greeted her as she entered her favorite coffee shop for her regular order of chai tea, and ‘Prince Charming’ was the police officer who helped process the skip she brought in on Friday evening. She had never seen any of them before, and it seemed like more than a coincidence that they kept popping up in her daily activities.
When she returned to the seamstress shop on Saturday, she expected to hear the ringing of the bell as she pushed through the door, but it wasn’t there. One of the regular workers was behind the counter instead of ‘Snow White’. Emma asked, “Did you take the bell down already?”
“Bell?”
“The one above the door.”
“We’ve never had a bell above the door, although that wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially when we’re both busy in the back.”
Emma’s brows knit together. “It was there when I came in the other day.” She turned to look at the spot where she had seen the little gold bell two days ago and saw that there were no nail holes where it had been mounted. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, beginning to get used to strange things happening.
“Do you have something to drop off, Miss Swan?” the seamstress asked.
“Not today. I, uh, I should have a dress to pick up. I brought it in on Wednesday.” She placed the yellow tag on the counter.
The lady in front of her looked puzzled, something else Emma was seeing quite often these days. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss Swan. We were closed all day on Wednesday and Thursday due to both of us being ill. Maybe it was another day…Tuesday perhaps?”
She shouldn’t have been surprised, but Emma’s jaw dropped all the same. “But…I…there was…um, would you mind checking to see if there’s something here anyway?”
“Sure, just a minute.” The woman picked up the tag and began searching the clothes rack behind her and, finding nothing, turned to the shelves containing shopping bags for larger orders. “Oh, I see you do have a pick-up.” She snatched the white bag off of the shelf and set it on the counter.
“Are you certain that’s mine?” Emma asked. “I only brought in a mini-dress. It shouldn’t warrant such a big bag.”
The lady pointed to the yellow tag stapled to the sack. “This matches your number, and see here? Your name is even written on the bag.” Emma looked where the seamstress was pointing and saw her name written in flowing script.
“Okay, well, how much do I owe you?”
“The tag says it’s already been paid.”
Emma stopped midway to unzipping her purse. “Really?”
“That’s what it says. Don’t you remember paying?”
“Uh, no, but I seem to be pretty forgetful these days, so I guess it’s possible.” She looped her wrist through the handles and dragged it off the counter, surprised at the weight of the sack, since one dress shouldn’t be heavy at all. Peeking into the bag, she noticed some red material underneath her blue dress, as well as a note laying on top, which read, “This isn’t a mistake, Emma. The extra dress is for you.”
Her eyes widened and she shot a look up at the seamstress. “Is something wrong?” the woman questioned.
“No, I, um…th-thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” Turning quickly, she exited the shop.
On the way home, she was tempted to take a closer look at the red dress, but felt compelled to wait until she was in the privacy of her apartment. Once she let herself in and closed the door behind her, she placed the bag on the coffee table. Removing her blue dress, she noted that it was expertly repaired and set it aside, then reached for the other garment underneath.
When she pulled it from the bag, she nearly dropped it in shock. The red ball gown she was holding in her hands was an exact replica of the one in the drawing of her dancing with Killian Jones.
Once she overcame her astonishment, Emma took the dress into her bedroom to try it on. She laid it out on the bed and ran her fingers over the soft, satin material, feeling a tingling in them that traveled up her arms all the way to her shoulders.
She stripped off her jeans and sweater, gingerly stepped into the dress, pulled it up around her, slid her arms into the sleeves and reached behind herself to try to tighten the satin ribbons. She knew the intricate lacing would probably require another person to close it properly, but to her surprise, the ribbons almost magically slipped through the eyelets, allowing her to tie them in a bow at the small of her back. Smoothing her hands down the full skirt, she marveled at the fact that it fit her perfectly.
Drawing in a deep breath, she turned slowly to take in her reflection in the full-length mirror and gasped. The resemblance to the illustration in the book was unmistakable. She swiveled this way and that to see the dress from every angle, all the while trying to identify the sensations passing through her body. It was as if gentle currents of electricity were running up and down her spine and extremities, and if she was pressed to put a name to it, she would call it magic.
She gathered the material in her hands and lifted it slightly so she could move more freely. The full skirt swished around her ankles as she swayed back and forth, humming to herself. Soon, she was moving around the room with her eyes closed, imagining being in the arms of Killian Jones.
Leaving the bedroom and gliding down the hall to the living room, she swept past the coffee table where the book laid open to the picture of the couple waltzing. It didn’t phase her anymore to see the figures moving. She stopped in front of the table, but continued humming and watching the figures dance in time to the music. Emma hesitantly reached out to touch the page, and a now-familiar sensation progressed up the length of her arm as the tips of her fingers pushed through the surface of it. Biting her lip, she kept going, but then hit an unyielding wall as she reached the knuckles on her hand.
Disappointed, she stopped humming and drew back her hand. Immediately, the dancing couple ceased moving and the solidness of the page was once again restored. She sighed deeply and murmured, “So close, Killian Jones. Someday I’ll make it to you,” then trudged back down the hallway to take off the dress.
*********
The next week, Emma had an appointment at her usual beauty shop to get her split ends trimmed. She had been going to the same hair stylist for as long as she could remember, so she was surprised when she entered the shop and didn’t see the girl anywhere. In fact, there was only one person in the entire place, which was very strange, because it was always bustling with customers and hairdressers.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, directing her question to the pretty, blonde stylist.
The girl gestured to the chair in front of the mirror as she answered, “Well…it was a slow day, so the others went out for lunch.”
Emma took the offered seat and looked into the mirror, her eyes widening when she saw the face of the beautician reflected there. “Cinderella,” she whispered. She didn’t think the girl heard her, until she smirked at Emma in the mirror, clearly aware that she recognized her.
She made quick work of trimming the ends of Emma’s hair, then drew the brush through her golden locks over and over again. “You have beautiful hair. Do you mind if I style it into an updo? I would really like the practice. No extra charge, of course.”
“Uh, sure, that would be fine.” Emma was heading straight home afterwards and was actually rather curious what she would look like with a sophisticated hairdo, since she’d never had an occasion to wear one.
“Great! Just relax and let me see what I can come up with.”
Emma’s eyes closed as the beautician lightly massaged her scalp, before beginning to divide her hair and twist it into an elegant style. After a surprisingly short amount of time, the girl asked, “What do you think?”
When Emma opened her eyes, she gulped and sat up straighter in the chair, leaning forward to get a closer look in the mirror. The style the hairdresser had created was exactly the same one her doppleganger had in the fairy tale book. “It…it’s perfect.”
The stylist smiled. “I’m very happy to hear that! The Captain will approve.”
Emma whipped around to face her. “What do you mean by that?” she gasped.
Wearing the same smirk as before, the girl stated simply, “You’ll see.”
Emma wanted to question her further, but decided against it, since she could hardly wait to get home to see the full effect of wearing the dress with her new hairdo.
*********
As she hurried home, Emma’s eyes were suddenly drawn to something sparkling in the window of a store she had never noticed before. Without hesitating, she let her feet carry her through the door of the small business.
Her jaw dropped when she scanned the cramped space, filled with a bevy of miscellaneous items. Just as she was admiring the pair of wooden marionette puppets hanging on the wall, a man emerged through the black curtain which covered the doorway to a back room. She wasn’t even surprised to recognize the man as Gepetto from the storybook. His smile was broad and warm as he held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. “Good day, Miss. How may I help you today?”
“I, uh, I was interested in the jeweled headband you have in the window.”
“Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. He shuffled out from behind the counter and walked to the window to slide aside the blue backdrop curtain. He gently lifted the band encrusted with sparkling crystals from the red satin pillow on which it rested, then turned to face Emma. With a slight bow, he held it out to her.
After accepting it and running her fingers over the surface of it, she looked up at the kindly gentleman. “May I try it on?”
“Of course!” He stepped back behind the counter and reached beneath it to retrieve a small mirror in a wooden frame. Setting it beside the old-fashioned cash register, he tilted it to a good angle for Emma to see herself.
“Thank you,” she smiled, then carefully placed the band on her head, nestled within her elegant hairdo. It was the finishing touch.
“Oh, my dear! It looks like it was made just for you!”
She looked up at him. “I actually think it might have been.”
*********
Once she got home, Emma wasted no time getting undressed, carelessly tossing her discarded clothes on the bedroom floor. She reverently held the ball gown up in front of herself, not understanding the heightened sense of anticipation which had her hands shaking and her heart racing. She only knew that she felt an overwhelming urgency to get into the dress and try again to push herself into the drawing.
As soon as she had the laces tied, she opened the box from Gepetto’s shop and extracted the headband. Looking in the mirror, she settled it on her head and adjusted it to perfection. Then she went into the bathroom and applied makeup to match the illustration in the book as closely as possible.
When she finished, she returned to the bedroom to check her appearance in the full-length mirror. Satisfied with the results, she collected the book from her bedside table and placed it on the bed, opening it to the correct page with shaking hands. She felt the familiar tingles zipping through her fingers as she ran them across the paper, creating ripples in their wake.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Please let me get through to you, Killian Jones,” before plunging her fingers between the two people in the portrait. This time, she was able to push through to her wrist, the tingles intensifying as a bright white halo of light began emanating around her point of entry on the page.
As her entire hand disappeared into the book, she suddenly felt her fingers brush against cool metal. Her mind snapped to attention as she realized it was curved and shaped like a…
Emma grabbed onto the hook like a lifeline, feeling a burst of magical energy - a burst of hope - that filled her and set her nerve endings alight, before she was pulled completely into the storybook.
She landed in a pair of strong arms and was immediately pulled against a broad, powerful chest. “Swan,” she heard breathed into her ear. “At last!”
Emma drew back to look at the man holding her and a rush of memories flooded her mind. Pulling him from beneath a pile of bodies, watching him bandage her bleeding hand at the top of the beanstalk, seeing his ship come into the harbor to offer his help with rescuing Henry, kissing him in Neverland, defeating Zelena together, falling through her portal into the past...
At the same time, emotions she had fought to repress for so long surged through her and she grabbed his face, pulled him to her and kissed the holy hell out of him.
It only took a fraction of a moment for him to kiss her back, and she could feel every bit of longing he was pouring into it. When she finally separated her lips from his, she kept her forehead pressed firmly to his. “Killian,” she panted, “is it really you?”
“I bloody well hope so, or else I would like to know who you thought you were kissing!”
She giggled and pecked him on the lips again. “What happened? How did we get separated?”
“The Crocodile,” he growled. “When we were still in the Enchanted Forest and he had us trapped in his vault, he must have sensed you were getting your magic back and sent you off to the land without magic.”
She looked around at her surroundings and realized they were in the loft. “How did you escape and get back here?”
“You managed to open a portal before you vanished. Once I got back to Storybrooke, your family and I started trying to figure out how to find you. It took us four bloody days before Regina realized there was still some residual magic left in the mirror you used to see Ariel’s reunion with Eric. We were able to look into it to see where you were, and we could tell Rumplestiltskin had wiped your memories, too.”
“But why? Why didn’t he want me to use my magic to get us out of the vault? Why did he send me away, erase my memories, and replace them with false ones?”
“You heard him when he asked why he hadn’t buried the hatchet in my head. He still had a vendetta against me back then, and had the power and opportunity to cause me more suffering. I’m sure he could sense that tearing you away from me would accomplish that.”
“If I keep getting my memories stripped, pretty soon I’m not going to have a brain left at all.”
He chuckled and loosened his hold on her, allowing her feet to touch down on the floor, but keeping his arms around her. “I missed you, Swan.”
“How long was I gone?”
“Nearly two weeks.”
“Is that all? It felt like I lived there for most of my life. Of course, that’s the way it felt when Henry and I were in Boston and then New York.” At the thought of Henry, her eyes snapped up to his. “Henry! He came to me while I was in the library, and Regina was with him. August was there, too. Oh, and I also saw my mom and dad! In fact, I saw several people from the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke there. How did they get there?”
“When we realized where you were, Belle helped research ways to help you regain your memory, so you could find your way back to us. She felt a bit guilty for what the Crocodile did to you, even though Gold claims he doesn’t recall his former self doing such a thing. I suppose he could be telling the truth, since your mother and father don’t recall seeing us when we were on our little adventure to the past. Anyway, Belle had a theory that sending people you knew to that Columbus place might help jog your memory, and Regina figured out a spell which would allow them to be transported through portals for short amounts of time.”
“Then why didn’t…” her voice trailed off as she dropped her eyes.
“Why didn’t I come to you?” he murmured. “I tried, Swan, truly I did, but the Crocodile must have put some kind of block on me from being able to pass through different realms. He probably thought he had me trapped in his vault forever, but didn’t want to take the risk of me being able to track you down again, should I be able to escape. I’m sure he had no idea you’d already created a portal, which allowed me to come back here to seek help, before the block took full effect.” He squeezed her tighter and pressed a kiss to her hairline, taking advantage of the fact that she seemed to be quite content to be held in his arms. “Belle realized everyone could go through but me, so she tried to convince Gold to remove the block between us. In the meantime, when she saw that sending Henry and the storybook to you didn’t do the trick, she figured we had to push things a little bit by outfitting you to look just like the illustration in the book. We could tell it was beginning to work when you were able to penetrate the surface of the pages.”
“Were you able to see me all the time?”
“No, only when you were looking at the book. There was some sort of connection forged between it and the mirror. Even Regina couldn’t explain it, but we were bloody glad to have it.”
“So when I was reaching into the book…”
“You were coming through the mirror, but never far enough for me to be able to grasp your hand. Belle knew it had to be the Crocodile’s spell that was preventing you from pushing all the way through, so she gave him an ultimatum - vanquish the block or she was leaving him, so he finally removed it. When I saw you reaching through today, I thought I would offer you my hook so you would realize who it was and allow me to pull you through. Fortunately, it worked.”
Casting her eyes around the loft again, she asked, “Where is everyone else?”
“We had no way of knowing how long it would take to get you back, so after a few days, they had to go back to their usual routines. They hated to do it, but all of us sitting and staring at the mirror twenty-four hours a day just wasn’t practical. We set up a schedule to ensure that someone would always be in front of it in case you had a breakthrough.”
For the first time, she looked very closely at him. His eyes, which were void of the usual koal lining them, looked incredibly tired with deep purple shadows underneath. “How often were you on watch?” she questioned.
A flush crept up his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, one of which he was self-consciously scratching behind. “I, uh…never left.”
A quick glance at the mussed blankets and pillows littering the floor in front of the mirror confirmed what he said. “For two weeks?” she asked incredulously.
He raised his head to meet her gaze, then nodded slightly and replied, “Aye.”
The significance of his simple, almost bashful answer slammed into her full force. The entire time she was gone, he never gave up hope of getting her back, just like he hadn’t when she and Henry fled Pan’s curse. How he reached her that time, he hadn’t yet shared with her, but somehow she was sure he had to make some sacrifices to do it.
Emma was never good at expressing herself through words, and this time was no different. Overcoming her disbelief at his declaration, she leaned in and claimed his lips in a sweet, soft, but passionate kiss. His hand came up to caress her cheek as his left arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Her fingers slid up his leather-clad back and drifted into his soft strands of hair, tugging at them slightly to change the angle so she could deepen the kiss.
When they reluctantly let their lips drift apart, they caught their breath with their eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together. After several quiet moments, Emma whispered, “Killian?”
“Yes, Love?”
“Thank you for never giving up on me.”
“It wasn’t just me, Swan. Your family wanted you back as desperately as…”
“I wasn’t only talking about this time.”
He pulled away slightly to look at her, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip nervously. “You mean, when I found you in New York?”
“Yes, and I’m fully expecting you to explain how you did that sometime soon, but it’s even more than that. You have never let me down or turned your back on me, no matter how many times I pushed you away or told you…”
“That it was a one-time thing?” he smirked.
Her stiff posture sagged a little as she exhaled a chuckle. “Yeah, and continuously insisting I was going back to New York, saying Zelena should have cursed someone I would actually kiss, telling you I couldn’t trust you anymore, and so on.”
He brought his hand up to palm her cheek. “You’re worth every minute I’ve had to wait for you. I figured that out from the moment we kissed in Neverland.”
“You’ve been a very patient man.”
“I was just waiting for you to realize that we’re perfect together.”
Out of habit, her eyes searched his to detect any hint of a lie, but, as always with him, there was none to be found. She was suddenly quite certain she could look into those eyes for all eternity and never see anything but honesty…and love. The thought took her by surprise, even though it shouldn’t. Her stubborn heart had been denying what she knew to be his true feelings ever since Neverland. She just never wanted to admit it to herself, because if she did, it would be real, and in her experience, real could bring pain and heartbreak.
“Emma? Are you alright?”
She broke out of her musings to see him looking at her with concern. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just…” Her words came to a halt as she cast about, trying to figure out how to end the sentence. Several beats passed before she let her lips do the talking again, caressing his in a way she hoped expressed her thoughts eloquently.
“We’re back where we belong,” she said softly, once the tender kiss ended. “Me…and my heart. We’re both here with you, right where we belong.”
A brilliant smile stretched across his face before he leaned in to share another kiss. Just as their lips touched, the door slammed open and the quiet was shattered by several people bursting into the room, all exclaiming loudly when they saw Emma.
“Mom!” Henry shouted, sprinting across the room and throwing his arms around her.
As Emma hugged her son fiercely, David and Mary Margaret surrounded them, turning it into a joyous group hug.
“I thought that was a burst of magic we felt,” Regina said, following the Charmings into the loft. “As usual, everyone ran to Granny’s when they felt it. Henry was convinced it was Emma returning, so we rushed right over. Mary Margaret told everyone they could follow, so the others shouldn’t be far behind.”
Noise filled the space as everyone started talking all at once, asking how she finally made her way back while she tried to answer all of them. The chatter was just beginning to die down when Belle, Ruby and Jefferson entered, closely followed by Marco, August and Ashley. Emma shared hugs with all of them, thanking them for helping her recover her memories, and answering the same questions about her return, once again.
Killian wearily sat on a bar stool, watching the happy chaos surrounding the woman he loved. He knew their quiet moments together were over for the time being, but he couldn’t begrudge her family and friends the opportunity to celebrate her return, since all of them were instrumental in securing it.
His exhaustion rolled over him like an ocean wave as he roughly scrubbed his hand down his face, willing himself to try to stay awake long enough to make it back to the boarding house. When he raised his bleary eyes again, they were met with a pair of sparkling green ones he had missed more in the past two weeks than he could express. In the midst of the happy crowd of people surrounding her, the smile she sent his way was meant for only him.
Ever since Neverland, he knew he would go to the end of the world or time for her. Now, for the first time, he was sure she would do the same for him.
*********
Thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting (if you’re so inclined.) Please, please, PLEASE send @winterbythesea lots and lots of love for her fantastic art!
Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie
#cssns22#captain swan supernatural summer 2022#where her heart belongs#jrob64#art by winterbythesea#csff#cs fic#captain swan fanfic#ouat captain swan fic#separation by curse#inspired by Somewhere in Time#wiped memories#emma swan#killian jones#canon divergent#set at the end of season 3
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charlie x merchant propaganda!?!?!
"Havin' a rough day, stranger?"
Charlie hears the heavy accent of the merchant as Leon answers him with a tired sigh.
Ashley had ran away after a coughing fit and acting like someone had mind controlled her, which is the main reason for Leon's stress.
But Charlie is anxious knowing that was definitely the result of the plagas infection.
And she could be next.
"How 'bout you, luv?"
Charlie raises her head to see the merchant staring at her. Or at least, she thinks he is, as much as she could see from his hooded face.
Usually she enjoys talking to him about their mutual love for guns, but she's in no mood as she thinks of the threat of the plagas inside her.
"Could be better," is all she says, just to be polite. He is still one of the few kind souls in this horrible place, after all.
He doesn't respond immediately, and she isn't sure, but she feels the man's burning gaze on her.
Then he claps, startling both her and Leon.
"Ya know, I just remembered I got a new kit 'ere just fer you," he says a bit too cheerily.
Charlie is intrigued as he rifles through his mysterious coat.
And her green eyes widen as he reveals a beautiful vintage-looking automatic rifle.
Leon whistles. "Could definitely cause some mayhem with that," the agent says. "How much for it?"
"Because you two are my favorite customers, it's on the house, mate,"
Charlie sees Leon's jaw drop open, and she's inclined to do the same until the merchant adds, "On one condition!"
His gaze goes to her.
"The lady 'ere gets to use it."
She's speechless.
Leon's speechless.
Hell, maybe even somewhere in the castle Ramón is speechless.
"It's mine?" Charlie asks hesitantly, though it's hard to hide just how excited she is, like a little girl about to get her first Barbie doll.
The merchant nods and ok she most definitely sees him wink that time.
"Kick their arse, darlin'"
He hands out the rifle to her, and Charlie picks it up, testing the weight as she quickly becomes comfortable with it, already imagining the damage she could cause with it.
"There's that gorgeous smile," he laughs, and Charlie doesn't even notice she's grinning ear to ear now.
After getting chased by senior citizens, surviving a volley of cannon balls, and receiving a warm welcome into the castle, Charlie could almost cry from such a sweet gift.
"Thank you," she says, not sure she could say more before her voice cracks. She isn't about to have a breakdown right now!
The merchant nods.
As she and Leon leave the safety of his shop, the purple light fading in the distance, the special agent chuckles.
"Most girls like flowers on the first date," he teases.
Charlie giggles as she holds on tight to her gift. "Well most girls don't have to fight their way through hordes of zombies," she says. "And he knew the color goes with my eyes,"
SCREAMING
I love this so much. Girl loves guns very much and if someone else loved them too? That’s the dream.
If you want me to consider your fave for Charlie this is what you need to do, write a little drabble for her 🙈
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Guys I love my Pug so much. If I had to go to Devildom I'm not going without him (He's a senior citizen with separation anxiety) but now I'm thinking of scenarios with my beloved Pug! (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)
Just imagine coming to Devildom and as Diavolo's doing his spiel this distinguished gentleman waddles his old man legs over to be near the MC. Standing by them and not really aware they're surrounded by demons but just wanting to be with them.
Lucifer has to put a dog bed in MC's room and when MC sleeps they just hear his loud ass old man snoring. Every day MC Goes to RAD my Pug just watches them go sadly and sleeps or sits by the door until MC returns. A sad old man who misses his person.
The Brothers have to deal with his bad dog breath and old joints. Hear him grumble and grouse when they have to clean his ears and wrinkles. He won't bite them but his loud grumbles are enough to get the message only MC can touch him. Watch as MC has to pick him up and carry him upstairs/downstairs or watch his slow butt try to follow MC down the hallway or wherever he thinks they might be in the House of Lamentation. He doesn't really know what MC's doing he just wants to be near them or be included in the conversation around the brothers. Hes very lonely being near someone makes him happy. Heck even if the brothers try to comfort him they know as soon as MC walks in he's following them instead.
Oh Lucifer would hate his shedding he's like a cotton ball of fluff and wrinkles and if he ever holds him that black outfit is gonna get ruined. Lucifer would be so annoyed too as a senior Pug he has a special diet and has supplements for his bones and he has to make sure his brothers aren't feeding him anything to upset his digestion. He also likes to sun bathe so now MC and Lucifer try to talk to Diavolo about putting some lamps up so he can sunbathe (Which we ALL know Diavolo would. He probably would spoil my Pug more than he already is!)
The Brothers will walk in to see this everyday laying anywhere and napping. He's potty trained and a good Pug he just isn't scared of the vacuum and stubborn as ever. Even if you put the vacuum near him he just sits there and looks at you unimpressed. A mad lad!
Mannnnn and then there's his walks. My Pug is such a senior citizen he loves his routine walks and will do them slowly enjoying the scenery. A walk around the block turns to an hour in a half if walking at his pace. He doesn't like other dogs and gets uncomfortable with them so the brothers also have to make sure hes okay because he's shy and antisocial. He only loves MC and people/demons/angels.
Just imagining him waddling his way through the castle also melts my heart. My Pug staying with Diavolo for a time fell asleep in Diavolos office and when Diavolo left he can hear his little nails scrape on the floor as he goes searching for him. He needs a person after all with him when he wakes up.
Barbatos will probably hate him tho. My Pug sheds everywhere AND he doesn't care about rats or other animals (he hates cats tho cause cats make him jealous) and will just sleep as Barbatos fights a rat/mouse by himself.
Solomon will probably try to test my Pug and if he does I'll fight him because my Pug isn't bright! What he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in ingenuity!
Simeon and Luke will probably like him until Simeon realizes his gloves are covered in Pug hair too.
And the brothers who have to live with him they'll probably be used to the 13 year old Pug wandering the house.
Lucifer probably has to put a bed in his study since my Pug will probably lay in his room if he can't find MC.
Mammon probably carries him everywhere and buys him everything then gets offended when the Pug ignores him afterwards for MC. He thought what they had was special!!
Leviathan probably brings his Akuzon packages to him because My Pug likes unboxing and they can unbox and look at it together. He really loves it.
Satan can pet him as they read feeling the softness as he snores is nice. As well having Lucifer carry him is icing on the cake.
Asmodeus probably gets him new shirts and sweaters everyday and makes MC put them on him since he doesn't want Pug hair on him
Beel probably lifts my Pug like he doesn't weigh anything carrying and eating as my Pug sits by his legs needy (Mf would definitely feed the dog even after explaining his strict diet so everyone has to watch them)
Belphegor and the Pug probably sleep together their snores causing an earthquake as they both get it in for the rest of the cast.
Oh it would be so cute! He'd bask in the attention lol!! (Also this is entirely self indulgent I just wanted to make a post about how much I adore my Pug (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵) )
#obey me#obey me imagines#obey me memes#obey me demon brothers#obey me royals#obey me angels#obey me solomon#obey me mc#pugs of tumblr#pugspugspugs#my pets#my pug is the best MC of obey me#i love my old man#would your pet survive Devildom?#I'll be honest mine wont#he either will sleep the whole experience through or get Mammon and Beel to give him everything#Diavolo is a Pug Daddy now dont @ me#Barbatos cant handle the Pugs#entirely self indulgent#i love my pug
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SMTIV/A’s character addressment differences in localization
さん -san gives politeness to whom the speaker is talking to, commonly for strangers, superiors and people older than the speaker. In some instances it tends to be equivalent to Mr/Mrs/Miss but it’s not as formal as it sounds in English.
Ashura-kai members TO Tayama
Asahi TO Nikkari and Nozomi
Hallelujah TO Nozomi and Isabeau
Gaston TO Isabeau
Akira and Blasted Tokyo citizens TO Kiyoharu
Ashura-kai members get irritated at Jonathan using the rude form of ‘you’ (貴様 kisama) with Tayama and yell at him to use the honorific. Similarly, Gaston enforces to be called “Gaston-san” by Asahi and Hallelujah and they only do so begrudgingly. In English it’s localized as Sir Gaston, sounding more pompous but funnily fitting his character and background probably even better.
Asahi calls Isabeau “Isabeau nee-san”. 姉さん nee-san is a friendly term for older sister. It’s localized as Miss Isabeau, which transmits her admiration but unfortunately removes the warm tone.
Hallelujah calls Abe 兄貴 aniki, literally older brother but it has a double meaning as a honorable term used to refer to someone one considers a superior, within the context of the Yakuza. ‘Bro’ works fine.
In a scene, Hallelujah upon seeing Asahi shamelessly jumping around Isabeau couldn’t help but think if that was how people saw him when he was with Abe.
ちゃん -chan expresses that the speaker has affection for the person, feels close to them and usually used for younger girls.
Nozomi TO Isabeau
Isabeau and Nozomi TO Asahi
殿 (どの) -dono is an honorific for showing respect used for people of high social status in the Heian Period whereas nowadays it’s only used in written form. It’s strongly associated with archaic/samurai-dialect.
Samurai TO Hope, K, Gabby, Hugo
Hope and Gabby TO Hugo
Isabeau TO Fujiwara
Jonathan TO Akira and Kiyoharu
Flynn (massacre) TO Nanashi
It’s social etiquette for Mikado officials to call their superiors with -dono. Walter predictably doesn’t follow it nor seems to care about remembering their faces.
君 (くん) -kun is generally used by people of senior status addressing or referring to those of junior status, carries more respect than -chan and occasionally some emotional attachment. It can also be used for young males in general.
Fujiwara TO Nanashi and Akira
Navarre TO his Samurai peers (Flynn, Walter, Jonathan and Isabeau) and to Asahi at the very end.
Hugo TO Hope and Gabby
Nozomi TO Nanashi and (one time she was asking for a favor) Gaston
Navarre and Hugo do it in a snobbish way while it’s more heartfelt for Nozomi and Fujiwara.
公 (こう) -kou lit. Lord or Sir.
Flynn, Isabeau and Stephen TO Masakado
Nozomi TO Tenkai
様 (さま) -sama is for individuals of a higher rank than oneself. Appropriate usages include lords, divine entities and sometimes towards people one greatly admires.
Burroughs TO her Samurai user
Gaea members TO Yuriko
Shesha TO Krishna
Adramelech TO Lucifer
Odin and Flynn (Massacre) TO Dagda
As to not repeat myself for several minor characters, let’s just say that what deity someone is aligned to often decides whether they treat them with honorifics or not.
Asahi and Hallelujah call both of their fathers oyaji 親父 (おやじ), pretty much an informal “my old man”. Asahi goes as far as calling him a ‘shitty geezer’ when she’s angry at not being allowed to be a Hunter. They are softer in English and just call them by ‘dad’.
Hallelujah calls Nanashi by the English word leader リーダー in both languages.
Dagda calls Nanashi kozou 小僧 (こぞう), its obsolete meaning being of a youngster that is training as an apprentice (usually in a religious context with monks being the common usage). There are many translations you could extract from it such as “little servant”, “errand boy”, “brat” or “kid” like how it got localized.
主 (あるじ) aruji meant the master of a castle in the context of medieval history.
Yamato Takeru TO Tayama
Flynn (massacre) TO Nanashi as aruji-dono
[He refers to both Dagda and Nanashi with -dono in the text but his voice says “Dagda-sama” instead. Probably a typo.]
Toki uses the same 主 kanji but pronounces as “ぬし (nushi)”-sama. In her context, it’s used by a woman to address a man with whom she is intimate, like a wife to her husband. So “master” in her case conveys a “my lover” insinuation.
You know who else uses 主 with yet another pronounciation?
Fittingly for the Mikado setting, マスター (master) using exactly the pronounciation of the English equivalent despite being written in Japanese.
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In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 3
Today's new chapter is a short one, but I hope you like it!
Thanks, of course, to my bestie @leio13 for editing this fic!
Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao’s secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao’s protector! But the reality is much more convoluted… What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?
This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Also, there are notes at the end (Surprise!). Without further ado, please enjoy!
The inevitable trip to Qingce Village was a tedious one, involving two trains and a bus. Worse still, Venti was determined to tag along. “Who knows how much intel about me has already made it to Qingce Village?” “I'm the only one who knows how to extract information, remember?”—Unfortunately, Xiao could not argue with Venti's points, so there sat the self-proclaimed bard, right next to Xiao, swinging his feet and humming a relentless melody.
“So—“ As soon as Venti turned to chat, Xiao missed the partial silence—“Have you ever been to Qingce Village?”
“No.��� Xiao did not indulge in leisure trips.
“I hear the views there are quite lovely. We should go exploring!”
“You can go sightseeing by yourself.”
“Then maybe I will.” Venti pouted. “What else can you do in Qingce Village, anyway? Aside from tourism. How do you make a living there?”
"Not much. The only permanent residents are senior citizens; the rest are visiting tourists. It's a gold mine for thieves."
"Is that so?" Venti cocked his head then shrugged. "Well, I guess the whole world is their playground. Still, I wonder what kind of business simple thieves from Qingce Village have in Liyue Harbor…"
"I guess we'll find out when we get there." It was true that Xiao didn't have an answer, but even if he did, he wouldn't share—he just wanted the conversation to be over.
"Do you think…" Venti piped up again much to Xiao's chagrin. "Do you think their leader's dead?"
Xiao's mouth gaped slightly, and a soft utterance came out: "Dead?"
"Yeah, you know, I've been thinking about what that guy said the other day—about meeting his boss."
Maybe the words had a deeper spiritual meaning—or maybe they were just the overconfident bluffs of a man desperate to survive.
"We can't rule it out, but then we have to ask, why would they go through such risks for a dead person?"
"It's not that weird. After all, why shouldn't they?"
Why should they? There was nothing to gain from serving the dead.
"You know, there's a story like this in Inazuma," Venti continued before launching into his story. "There once were 47 samurai who faithfully served their lord until one day, he was forced to kill himself by a higher lord. Without a lord, they were directionless ronin with no honor, so they all went separate ways. For months they indulged in debauchery, so much so that the higher court became convinced that they had all but abandoned their chivalry.
"Except, the ronin hadn't forgotten. The wrongful death of their master still burned vividly in their hearts. And they had a plan to avenge him. One night, when the higher lord's guard was low, the ronin gathered and raided his castle, exacting revenge upon the merciless lord who sentenced their master to death months ago! Unfortunately, they knew there was no place in Inazuma for vengeful, masterless ronin, so after they had reclaimed honor for their lord, they followed him in death."
"Why are you telling me this? What's the point?"
"It's a fantastic story of honor!" Venti exclaimed. "Don't you think it's romantic?"
"Not really." To live and even to die for those who had already passed was a fool's errand. There was no honor for the dead. After death, there was nothing. The living had no choice but to move on. Otherwise… How could Xiao carry on? The weight of the dead would be too heavy.
Venti's eyebrows furrowed. "You must be very lonely." He sharply turned his head and stared intensely out the window.
Xiao did not understand the correlation between loneliness and living in the past. Wouldn't you feel lonelier if you kept clinging onto bygones? Besides, Xiao felt neither of those things. Sure, he was alone—but he wasn't lonely. He was better off by himself. Of course, Venti wouldn't understand that. What right did Venti, of all people, have to make baseless assumptions and criticize?
Xiao, realizing he spent too much time preparing arguments for a conversation he didn't want to have, turned in the opposite direction. He was better off ignoring Venti after all.
Notes:
The story Venti shares is real Japanese story, which you can read about here.
I know this chapter is short, so the next one will be coming very soon!
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Anyone Can Learn German
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Last night I was having a mildly stoned heady convo with Celina lying in bed after visiting the Prince in Spotify’s High Castle Rebuilt Over the Ruins of Oil and Finance.
Anyway, she asked if I looked inward very often. I used to, but then world events took over my life. Or rather I let myself be tugged along by the tides of social media, being in-the-know for cultural cache and out of some duty to being a responsible citizen (not local, so much as global).
And I could clearly chart this progression through my reading history.
K-8: Fantasy series
9: Historical fiction
10-Sophomore year of college: Classic novels and fundamental philosophical texts
Junior - Senior: Post WWII experimental novels.
2015-16: Contemporary novels, beginning to read essays and creative nonfiction
2017-2019: U.S. History, Spanish novels
2019-present: Longform magazine articles
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