#a woman on the reception was confused from who to who i am transitioning

[nezoriy]

hello i made a niche meme

#tried to start the process of getting my trans diagnosis today #a woman on the reception was confused from who to who i am transitioning #accisental ally 👌 #trans #trans man #queer #transgender #lgbtq #trans memes

[snusbandxknifewife]

How We Got Here/Where We’re Going

Hello yes hi! I am proud to introduce my gift for the lovely and amazing Tess, @clockworkgraystairs ! This started out as a wedding fic, but I couldn’t get it to work right until I was giving @wanderingpages her regularly scheduled Mayari update and saw her asynchronous pregnancy au and was like “!!!!!Holy shit that’s it.” So, without much further ado, I present the beginning of “How We Got Here/Where We’re Going”, an all human, modern au where Cardan and Jude have been a thing since college, ended up getting pregnant and having a daughter and marrying in their late 20s. Now it’s their honeymoon and they’re looking backwards at their past and forward towards their future.

~~~~~~~

Outside, fluffy grey clouds hung over a soft blanket of snow, masking any sound that might’ve accompanied the rising of the sun. Her bed was soft, her sheets warm, her room quiet. Jude couldn’t quite figure out what woke her up. Then, as she stretched out, her fingers hungrily searching as she fought sleep, she realized what it was: Cardan was missing.

Sitting up, her eyes bleary and drool dried on her cheek, she pouted. When she remembered that she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on—and that, plus a snowy log cabin, makes for freezing nips—she grumbled and burrowed back into the comforter.

Oh to have been a fly on the wall in the little cabin bedroom as Jude Greenbriar tumbled around in her nest of blankets, dragging them with her to grab underwear and pajamas and socks and fighting to avoid any cold air as she dressed. Cussing and tripping as she went, Jude scowled into nothing and cursed her fiancé—

Wait. Husband. It’s husband now.

—she cursed her husband for abandoning her to the elements and taking his space heater of a body with him when he went.

Jude wrapped herself up in her ball of bedding and went out the door, now awake enough to listen for movement in the small cabin. A pot clanged from the downstairs kitchen and her husband yelped and she smirked.

That’s what you get, loser.

As Jude walked down the stairs, she couldn’t miss the chaos of the living room. Most of their suitcases were still packed up and set by the fireplace, their skis and snow jackets barely made it in the door, and their wedding clothes were strewn haphazardly across the sofa. She was honestly impressed that they’d made it inside the house.

Just as she made it to the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the sofa to run her hand over her wedding dress, she heard something that made her stop.

“—And how should I know? Honestly Nic I’m not even sure how to bring it up to her,” Cardan sighed from within the kitchen, bustling around like he was making breakfast. “I think it might be good for us. Still, with how everything went when we had Faye, I don’t want to pressure her.”

She couldn’t help but frown in concern as her mind flitted back through everything she could remember about their first daughter and her pregnancy. From the confusion of her missed period to the worry as they waited on the test to the way Cardan’s eyes had lit up when the Ob/Gyn told them they were having a little girl.

What on earth would Nicasia be talking to him about?

Jude tried to tell herself that it was obvious, Nicasia was only days away from popping, and her pregnancy had been a bit of a nightmare. Maybe she was just nervous? But, then again, why ask Cardan about giving birth? Jude had been the one who carried Faye and, far more importantly, Nicasia’s own wife, Taryn, had already had a child herself.

Completely ignoring the fact that calling a man away from his wife on his honeymoon was probably in poor taste, but she digressed.

She kept herself as still as possible, angling her head so she could hear better.

“Yes, I know that, Nic,” he let out a little frustrated laugh, and Jude could just picture the way he would be pinching the bridge of his nose. “But Faye will be starting school soon and that’ll be a circus in it of itself, never mind adding on the stress that this would.”

He went quiet again and Jude crept back towards the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t walk through the kitchen door and catch her spying.

“I know you and Taryn want the little man to have a friend, but you remember how tough it was for Jude our first go round.”

Oh.

Jude’s hand flew to her belly and she had to jump to catch the falling blankets before they made a sound and alerted her new husband.

So she wasn’t the only one who was getting suggestions about expanding the family.

It made sense, everyone had been talking to Jude about the idea as the wedding had gotten closer. Oriana had been completely starry eyed ever since Taryn’s firstborn, Rosemary, had graced them with her presence. In fact, their stepmother had barely batted an eyelash at Jude’s worries when she’d fallen pregnant during college, she was far too excited at the idea of another grand baby. Madoc had gotten past the shock and the disdain for Cardan enough to be hounding them for a grandson. Taryn thought having cousins the same age made for perfect best friends. It was a mess.

Sure, Nicasia being pregnant had bought them a little respite, but she could go into labor literally any minute, so there went that.

Jude rolled her eyes and began loudly making her way down the stairs again, giving her husband fair warning this time as she walked through the living room and towards the kitchen.

“Hold on, here she comes,” he whispered, low enough that he likely thought she couldn’t hear. Then, she hit the kitchen door with her mobile blanket fort and he spun around with a: “hey Hot Mama!”

“Stop calling me that, you dork,” she made a face, instantly regretting her decision not to sneak up and scare him.

He’s stood there by the stove, wearing nothing but his low-slung flannel pajama pants and grinning at her like an idiot as he leaned back against the counter. She refused to let her sneer fall, only growing more annoyed at how he could walk around half naked in such a freezing house.

“Huh?” He must’ve forgotten he was talking to Nicasia because he seemed surprised when she began speaking on the other end of the phone. “Oh, yeah, Jude’s finally awake. Y’know I kept her up last night, heyo.”

Jude let out a disgusted groan and he just started to laugh, giving her an exaggerated wink and thrusting his hips forward in a way that absolutely did not put butterflies in her stomach, thank you very much.

He tilted his head, listening to Nicasia for a moment before finally giving up. “Here I’ll put her on speaker.”

“Hey Nic!” Jude smiled, finally dropping her pretenses and walking over to give Cardan a big, blankety hug and morning kiss. “How did Faye do last night?”

“She was great! Didn’t get up until about seven this morning. Of course the little man already had me up, fuckin’ kid always sitting on my bladder,” Nicasia griped through the phone and Jude snorted. “I don’t know how you and Taryn both did this it sucks.”

“Yeah, but the payoff is really cute,” she shrugged, leaning her head against Cardan’s collarbone. “Especially when they have your nose or your eyes or they start saying how much they love their Mommy.”

“Is Rosemary ready for baby?” Cardan asked as he wrapped his arm around his blanket bundle of a wife.

“You know how she gets, she’s super attached to her moms. Well have to see once Taryn and I actually bring him home.”

“I’m sure she’ll be a great big sister, she’s always been wonderful to Faye,” Jude offered, smiling as her husband pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “She was very sweet when Faye was a baby.”

“She was three then. Seven-year-olds have much bigger personalities.” Nicasia sounded exhausted, more exhausted than a normal pregnant person would be and Jude worried at her lip.

While they hadn’t always been the closest, she and Nicasia had grown into a really solid friendship ever since the other woman had begun dating Jude’s sister, and she didn’t like to see her struggling. Nic had been a huge help in Jude’s own life and relationship, she’d been an amazing friend to Cardan, she didn’t deserve anything but the best, happiest transition to a family of four.

“Well she takes after her mother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jackass?” Nicasia laughed at Cardan, her voice sounding like the tension broke a little.

Jude opened her mouth to give some word of advice or make some statement about how sure she was that it would be ok, but got cut off by the sound of commotion on the other end of the phone.

“What? Oh, yes Faerie-Faye it’s Mommy and Daddy,” Nic said, sounding far away from the phone. “Of course you can darling, here you go.”

Jude’s heart swelled and tears unexpectedly pricked at the back of her eyes as their daughter fumbled with the phone. She felt guilty, having forgotten for a moment that they were on their honeymoon without Faye. It was their first trip alone since her birth, and they’d both been on pins and needles when they’d said goodbye to her at the reception hall last night.

“Mommy?” Faye’s voice, tiny and soft like the twinkling of a wind chime, came through the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey little elf! How are you? Mommy misses you so much,” she gushed, reaching out and taking the phone from her husband in a mindless attempt to feel physically closer to her daughter. “Have you been good for Aunty Taryn and Aunt Nicky?”

Jude listened attentively as her four-year-old prattled on about everything she’d done since she left the reception hall with her aunts and cousin last night. To hear her tell it, Faye had had a great time. While it made her happy, Jude also found herself a little sad at the idea that her baby girl was doing so well without mom.

“And Daddy, Aunt Nicky let me touch her tummy when baby cousin kicked!”

“Were you gentle, Princess?” Cardan asked. He always called their daughter Princess, had since the first moment he’d held her in his arms. “Remember what we’ve said about soft hands.”

“Yes Daddy I used soft hands and nice words!”

“That’s my girl,” he said, that proud grin he always got whenever Faye listened to them plastering itself across his face.

The phone fell away and they heard some distant talking before their daughter was back on.

“Ok Mommy and Daddy, Rosemary is awake and we’re playing Rome. I love you, bye-bye!”

And she was gone before either of them could say another word, likely dropping her Aunt’s phone on the floor, if history could serve as a teacher. Jude tried not to let it hurt too much, she knew how seriously Faye took Rome—her word for the pretend gladiator-style tournaments her and her cousin put on. On any other day she’d be slightly smug at how well her kid swung a sword, but today she was away from her daughter and it really sucked.

“Sorry about that, I’ll make sure she stays on longer tonight,” Nicasia promised before either of them said anything. “But you know gladiator is a serious time in our house.”

“Oh to be sure. My wife is raising a little killer.”

“Looks like it runs in the family,” she laughed back. “Listen I’ll let you to go do gross honeymoon shit. Love you both, I’ll let you know if baby boy makes an early appearance.”

“Love you too, tell Faye we love her,” Cardan said, taking his phone back when she ended the call.

And, just that quickly, the little cabin in the snow-laden forest was silent again. Jude in her mountain of covers looked up at her new husband, her pout from earlier back as she tried not to cry.

“Awe, don’t do that to me Mama Bear; you know she misses you,” he frowned, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“She’s my baby Cardan,” Jude whined, her voice muffled against his chest. “When did Rome become more important than Mommy?”

He scoffed, gathering her and her extra padding and setting the whole pile atop the kitchen island. “Rome is not more important than Mommy, you know that.”

“Rome sure sounded more important than Mommy.”

He turned his back with a roll of his eyes, reaching for the coffee that he must’ve been brewing before she woke up. She stopped her pouting long enough to take in the sight: Cardan’s messy black hair, his low-slung pants, the blatantly obvious fingernail marks carved up his back from last night. It was certainly a sight for sore eyes; it’s not every day you can wake up to something like that when you’ve got a toddler in tow.

“When you’re done ogling, would you like a cup?” He looked over his shoulder quickly, catching her in the act. His eyes twinkled so bright and full of mischief she didn’t even feel bad about being caught, she just smirked at him as she nodded.

Jude looked outside and saw that the heavy grey clouds had given up the fight and large, fluffy snowflakes were falling, bathing the world in yet another layer of snow.

“I hope Nic doesn’t go into labor early, we may be stuck here if the snow doesn’t stop,” she observed, suddenly quiet as she took the cup from his outstretched hand and brought it to her face, soaking in the warmth.

Cardan followed her gaze as he leaned back against his own counter, sipping from her Mrs mug that Liliver had gotten her as a joke. He looked pleasantly tired, not wired like he’d been after an all nighter in college or exhausted the way he was when Faye’d had a bad night as an infant. He looked like he was fit to curl up in bed with a book and be lazy all day, content with his place in the world.

It was a good look on him.

“She told me earlier that her doctor said she was only at 1.5 centimeters, she should make it to her due date.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well you were full of surprises with Faye’s pregnancy,” he mock-glared at her and she chuckled into her drink, remembering the look on his face when she’d told him her water had broken in her final.

Then his words hit her and her smile fell as she remembered what she’d overheard him saying to Nicasia. Cardan, well tuned in to her body language after so many years, noticed instantly.

“What?”

What good is spying if you narc on yourself?

She sighed and stared into her mug, trying to figure out the words as he watched her, worried something was wrong. Then, finally, “I overheard you talking with Nic about my pregnancy with Faye.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Just the end, you talking about how tough it was, how you didn’t want to pressure me,” she admitted, continuing before he could respond. “I don’t want you to think you’re pressuring me I know we’ve talked about it and I—“

“Woah, woah, woah, calm it down Hot Mama let me explain,” he cut her off, taking her cup from her hands and setting it down in the counter so he could hold her. “That conversation wasn’t about the pregnancy, just the timing.”

“What?”

He sighed, his jaw working like it always does when he’s a little frustrated. “Nic called right after I got a text from my brother. I should’ve talked to you first but the timing just worked out weird.”

“From Balekin?” She crinkled her nose in a frown that she knew he found adorable. “What could he possibly want? He knows he literally missed our wedding, right? The wedding that was yesterday.”

She cursed herself internally as she saw his little wince. She shouldn’t have said it so harshly, it just pissed her off that the man who raised her husband would refuse to be there when they got married.

“No, from Dain,” Cardan said, stopping her thoughts right in their track. “It’s about the company. Rhyia is apparently sick of being CFO, wants a peace of the trust fund baby action like me.”

She couldn’t help but grind her teeth at that, remembering that glorious fight all those years ago at his family’s mansion when he’d announced their pregnancy.

“So what do you have to do with it?”

“Dain wants to keep it in the family,” he chewed at his bottom lip. “Remembers I was in for business and you were in for finance. Thinks we could make a go of it together.”

“Oh so now you’re family,” she laughed angrily, her blood already boiling again after four years of avoiding the subject. “You weren’t family when you were a defenseless kid and you weren’t family when we were pregnant and fucking panicking but now he needs something—“

She broke off with a huff, flexing her fists and aching for her punching bag back home in their basement. It really wouldn’t do getting this riled up, it hadn’t helped them before and it wouldn’t help them now.

“Cool it, Supervillain, I see that look in your eyes,” he chuckled, forcing his hands under the blankets so he could grab her by the hips.

“I’m not a supervillain,” she grumbled.

“You’re my supervillain,” he cooed back, leaning forward to press soft little butterfly kisses to her jawline. “My sexy little supervillain Hot Mama.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

She decided not to answer as he continued kissing down the line of her throat, his breath hot over her pulse and his lips soft against her chapped skin.

Jude couldn’t help the way she tilted her chin up, the little grin that graced her face as her eyes fluttered closed. She missed moments like these, times when they could be overly affectionate without having to worry about the baby seeing and yelling about how gross it was.

He pulled away and her eyes shot back open, ready to complain until she saw the look on his face. He was troubled, almost apprehensive.

“I was honestly thinking about agreeing,” he admitted before she could ask what was wrong.

Her brain short circuited for a moment, too distracted by his kisses to remember what they had been talking about. When she finally connected the dots, she frowned. “But you bought out of the company years ago, babe. Why go back to the headache?”

“A higher paying job,” he sighed, stepping away to run his hands through his messy hair and lean against the counter again. “I don’t like the idea of charging your sister more for my help, but I still want to make sure we have a secure future.”

“Baby, I know our finances. We are fine.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Even without my paycheck.”

“Still, I’d rather be safe. Plus Faye will be going to school next year and I’ll have all that extra time on my hands,” he looked away from her, chewing at the inside of his lip as he watched the snow fall. “We’d be able to really change how we live if we took this job. A better house, vacations, secure college fund for the kids.”

Jude studied Cardan, her eyes roving over his midnight black curls, down his ears—which used to be stretched—across the tattoo of her and Faye’s birthdates at his wrist, and she smiled. He’d changed so much since they first met, given up a lot of his more daring, self-destructive ways to provide for her and their family. He’d stepped up when she needed him to, he’d stepped up in a way that no man in his family ever did for him. She was proud.

“I thought kids is what you’d been discussing with Nic.”

His eyes shot back to her, but his head didn’t turn. She was quiet, almost nervous as she said it. They’d talked about maybe one day having more kids, mentioned it the same way one might say they wanted to hike the Appalachian trail some day.

But it had been so scary with Faye, so hard figuring out how to become parents, how to maintain their relationship and build a home, all while they were just barely adults. The pregnancy had been tough and full of shock, the family had been kind of a mess on both sides. It was just a disaster from the word go.

Still, Jude remembered how Cardan looked when he first saw that positive pregnancy test all those years ago. She remembered how he used to love waking up at night to feed the baby, called it his special Daddy-Daughter Time. She saw the way he still held one of Faye’s sonograms in his wallet every time she took her birth control.

“Did you now?” Cardan barely sounded like he was breathing.

She nodded. “I heard Nicasia giving you the same guilt trip Taryn gives me about cousins.”

“They do seem to think that baby boy should have a friend.” His face didn’t give anything away. He was, for the first time in years, so carefully blank around her.

“What do you think?”

The air, still frigid enough to keep Jude wrapped up in her nest, seemed charged with electricity as Cardan finally turned his head back to face his wife. If she’d gazed upon him with an untrained eye, she would’ve thought he looked like the picture of cruelty, an evil sneer pulling at his lips as he studied her through lidded eyes.

But Jude’s gaze wasn’t untrained, she knew her husband. And, so, she knew that the man in front of her was absolutely terrified as he said: “I think there might be some merit to the idea.”

He took a long sip of his coffee to hide his smile as Jude worried at her deformed ring finger.

“You?”

Well, here goes nothing

“I was thinking about stopping my birth control,” she quietly said, trying not to let her heart leap at the slight quirk of his brows. “Maybe not actively trying but, y’know, also not actively preventing.”

As soon as the words were out, she felt kind of panicked. Up until that point, everything they’d done—moving in after they got pregnant, getting engaged, marrying—had felt kind of inevitable. But having a second baby wasn’t necessarily a foregone conclusion. Talking about it felt nerve-wracking, like they were actually moving to make their family a reality.

“You want a kid with me?” Cardan sounded kind of awed, his jaw a little slack as he watched her.

“I have a kid with you, babe.”

“No,” he held a hand up. “No it was different with Faye. She wasn’t planned, she just happened and we figured out how to make it work.”

He set his drink down and once again crossed the distance between them, digging in to her cocoon as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Faye with all my heart, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me,” he continued. “But the idea that you’d be more than ok with, that you’d literally want a child with me—“

“Does it shock you?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as if to clear it before gazing up at her with love in his eyes. “Yes, Jude Greenbriar. Yes it does.”

“Well it shouldn’t,” she snorted. “I carried a little you once before and she turned out pretty damn cute.”

“I think I’m going to need to hear you actually say it.”

She laughed, her head thrown back as the sound filled the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around Cardan and kissed his temple, holding him close and thanking the gods that they’d made it to that point.

“You need to hear me say what?” Jude teased, her grin contagious as Cardan looked up at her.

“Jude, my darling my dear, my sexy little Hot Mama,” he started, dutifully ignoring how she dramatically protested at the nickname, “I need to hear you say that you want to have my child.”

Jude leaned forward, taking in the soft, earthy scent of him with a mischievous smile.

“Cardan, my love my sweet, my amazing sexy husband,” she imitated him, tilting her head to drag her teeth across his jaw.

He leaned back, giving her the room to slide off the kitchen counter and into his arms. The blankets fell off her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air as she pressed herself against him, already feeling just how desperately he wanted her.

She let her hands wander the expanse of his chest, her fingers ghosting over his skin until she could reach around to the nail marks on his back. With a smile, she traced them, remembering how he’d earned those scrapes when he spread her legs open on the floor last night after they’d given up on making it to the couch.

Cardan grabbed her by the hip, sliding one of his knees between her thighs and locking his eyes with hers as he waited with bated breath for her to finish.

Jude, not one to deny herself a good time, let the strap of her pajama shirt fall off her shoulder as she bit her bottom lip, leaned forward, and whispered--

“Put a baby in me.”

~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok so a few things, one the tumblr app wouldn’t let me copy and paste all the story on mobile so I had to retype some online so I’m sorry if the format fucked up. Also I have a bunch of ideas for these kids so if you want to see any more of this AU, feel free to send in requests! Happy holidays @clockworkgraystairs , I hope you enjoy cute Parent!Jurdan doing cute adult shit!

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @illyrianwitchling @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231 @booksandlewks @fateandluminary @addies-invisible-life If you want to be added, just let me know!

#jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #tfota fanfic #tyrannosaurus lex writes #au #how we got here where we're going #hwghwwg #modern au #jurdannet secret snusband #secret snusband

[thefandomlesbian]

Ship Questions!

Hotch/Reid

Domestic 🥰

(Also, I’m a huge fan of all your writings! Thanks for sharing 💜)

Thank you! ❤️

Sorry, this got pretty long!

1.) If they get married, who proposes?

Aaron does. Spencer is very comfortable not being married ever, and it's Aaron's drive to ensure Jack is in good hands in the event of his death that pushes him toward marriage. Spencer doesn't exactly want a wedding, but he knows Aaron is traditional and it's important to him, so he goes along with it.

2.) What's the wedding like? Who attends?

This could go one of two ways. 1.) They elope to Las Vegas so Diana can attend and invite literally no one else.

Or, more likely, 2.) They throw a BAU wedding in DC. JJ is the maid of honor and Derek is the best man. Rossi walks Spencer down the aisle and Gideon officiates. Rossi cries. Jack is the ring bearer and Henry is the flower girl.

A mostly unfamiliar face shows up, strolling up during the reception after the ceremony while Spencer is talking to Rossi and Derek. Spencer recognizes him first. "I don't want you here."

William is holding a brochure, pointing to where Rossi's name is listed as the father of the groom. "I would've come if you had called."

"I didn't want you to."

"You could've called," he insists. "You didn't have to write me off like this."

Derek goes to intercede, but Rossi catches him by the arm. "Hey, Reid," he says, looking quite mild. "There's one fatherly lesson I haven't taught you yet."

"What's that?" Spencer is confused at this assertion.

"How to throw a right hook."

William is on the floor, Aaron is covering Jack's eyes, Emily is cheering, JJ is trying to drag Spencer away, Gideon is getting Rossi some ice for his hands, and Strauss is pressing the bridge of her nose trying to decide if they can somehow make this a lawsuit for the bureau or if this is going to create more paperwork for her somehow.

Aaron invites a handful of old lawyer friends and Sean, who does reluctantly show up. Spencer invites his professors and teachers and Ethan. Several of them greet him with, "Oh, I haven't seen you in so long! You've gotten so tall!" which yields the question who was that person, and the answer is always, "A professor from my first doctorate."

3.) How many kids do they have?

In most timelines, only Jack. Spencer doesn't have any desire to spread his genes with his sketchy health history, and while Aaron wanted a bigger family with Haley, he knows it wouldn't be fair to do this to another child, the inconsistent hours, the lack of presence, and besides, Jessica wouldn't agree to free childcare for another kid. Spencer is okay with not being a father in the traditional way, and he's still someone who is very important to Jack, not to mention Henry and Hank and (insert baby name because I reject JJ naming her second child Michael).

But there is another timeline where they've discussed it. Spencer wants to be a father, and he tells Aaron that, and they aren't really sure how to proceed—with their line of work and histories, they aren't eligible for adoption. They look into surrogacy, but Spencer again doesn't really care to pass on his genetic material, and Aaron is having a very hard time shaking off his Catholic upbringing that makes him feel super duper icky and weird about something of his growing inside a woman he doesn't actually know that well and then that child being his and not part of her. They're at an impasse when, on a case, there's a break when a woman is found disemboweled in the dumpster while her newborn infant is wrapped in a plastic bag. There is no family after identification. Social services comes to take the baby, and they both feel like maybe this is some sign from the universe and they're missing out. Later that night when neither of them can sleep, Aaron rolls out of bed and calls the social services contact, and the baby is still floating around the office, not having yet found a foster family. So they take her.

It's several years of paperwork as they transition from foster parents to adopted guardians of Haley Diana Hotchner-Reid. Spencer steps down from the BAU to become a research professor full-time, and he finds cures for antibiotic-resistant bacterial illnesses. He invents a vaccine for tuberculosis. He has a routine schedule, so he's available for the kids all the time, and Aaron doesn't have to leave his job to have the family he wants.

4.) Do they have any pets?

Usually, no. Aaron is afraid of dogs. Animals don't like Spencer. Aaron grew up in rural Virginia, so he likes the idea of having horses like he did when he was young, but they don't have anywhere to put a horse or farm animals, and while Spencer fantasizes about having a farm, he thinks horses and cattle up close are terrifying. But occasionally they wind up with a cat, or even two cats if they're adventurous, and Spencer does a lot of research to start appropriate fish husbandry with a giant, well-kept aquarium where he teaches Jack all about how to properly care for fish (ie, goldfish and betas don't go in bowls, no fish go in bowls).

5.) Who's the stricter parent?

Neither of them are all that stern. Aaron doesn't know how to appropriately discipline a child. He knows what not to do, but he isn't sure about alternatives, and whenever Jack acts out of turn, he feels like it's his fault for letting Jack down and letting him experience so much trauma that twisted his ability to process his emotions in a healthy way. Aaron doesn't know how to provide structure and support in a positive way, and he tries, but it's hard.

Spencer also didn't exactly have any good parental role models. He does have the ability to learn everything there is to know about a child's interests through reading, and he does that to make connections. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't and Jack has still graffitied the side of the school building and Aaron is having to pay out damages and is trying very hard not to raise his voice and Spencer is like, "Is this what Ash Ketchum would do?" and Jack responds, "I'm thirteen, I haven't watched Pokemon in five years, grow up." Then they enlist a family counselor.

6.) Who kills the bugs?

Neither have bug fear. Spencer will squish roaches and pest bugs as he finds them. However, he thinks unique bugs are quite interesting, and he doesn't kill ants or spiders or crickets. Instead, he studies them. Spiders he always captures and takes outside. Once, Spencer has a piece of paper and a cup and is working very hard on entrapping a beautiful black widow, and Aaron sees it without realizing what he's doing and mushes it. "Why would you do that? Why would you kill an arachnid? She was protecting our home." After that, Aaron lets Spencer handle all the bugs and doesn't interfere since he never knows which ones deserve to live and which ones don't.

7.) How do they celebrate the holidays?

If someone is hosting a Christmas party, they'll attend, but otherwise, they'll stay inside and decorate the tree as a family. Sean is invited to Christmas dinner; he rarely comes. Jessica and her family go to her parents', and Aaron doesn't want to make Spencer uncomfortable by taking him there, so they avoid such gatherings. They make it special with just the three of them, unless another member or two of the BAU wants to squeeze in. Aaron likes to go to midnight mass, and he usually manages to convince Spencer to sit through it one night of the year.

On Halloween, they all go trick-or-treating together.

Easter is the other day of the year Aaron insists they go to church because, "I am nothing if not a Chreaster Catholic." Aaron takes Jack alone while Spencer stays home and sets up a wild egg hunt somewhere in the city, and when church ends, Aaron brings Jack to look for the eggs. Sometimes the rest of the BAU's kids join in.

For Memorial Day and Fourth of July, Aaron grills. Spencer tries once and they spend Memorial Day in the ER and Aaron has to buy a new grill. Likewise, they agree Spencer should not come within three feet of any firework materials, including benign sparklers and the like.

8.) Who's more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Aaron likes to get up early to brew Spencer's coffee the way he likes it, warm the house up, and start breakfast. Spencer never asks him to come back because he enjoys having the house warm and breakfast ready when he rolls out of bed. But if Aaron isn't feeling well and Spencer gets out of bed to do those things, it only takes a couple petulant grumbles on Aaron's part to convince Spencer to slide back under the covers.

9.) Who's the better cook?

Aaron is a much better cook. Spencer, to his credit, tries sometimes. But Aaron has a better understanding of how palates work and also how not to set things on fire. Spencer knows cooking is technically just a science, but it's a science that baffles him, he'll admit, like paranormal science or theology.

#hotchreid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #criminal minds #headcanons

[usagichronicles]

What some of your best memories in the RPC?

Hmm... I’ll put this under a read more, since I’m in a self reflective and stream of consciousness mood. So this will be entirely unedited, and way too long.

I think some of the early happiness was the reception I got when I first started, about four years and ten months ago. People were excited to RP with me, glad I had decided to finally get involved.

At first I intended only for Cafe, and I put in a ton of work to get her set up. But by the end of my time writing KanColle, I had a lot of shipgirl OCs, and I mean a lot -- Trench Cafe, Spirit of Fire, Ohio, Atlantic Conveyor, Pilar, Houston, Langley, Gangut, Manila, New Zealand, Georgios Averof, Neptune, Leander, Achilles, Kiwi, Tui, Moa, Lanikai, Kirkwall, Jewel of Windsor, Emma Williams, Aotearoa, Helle.

A lot of the best early memories come from Cafe and her storyline. And I must admit, out of the above 24 characters? Cafe, Spirit of Fire, Manila, Kirkwall, Emma Williams, New Zealand, and Aotearoa got a lot of development. But satisfaction in how their characters developed? Only in Cafe, Emma Williams, and Aotearoa.

Cafe and Manila were the only characters who got endings. They were both happy endings. But only Cafe got one I am happy with. 

That being said... I really enjoyed writing HMS New Zealand. I think she was one of my first ‘complex’ personalities, with a storyline that I really tried to plan a bit. It didn’t work amazingly, there was a lot that got derailed, but I enjoyed her.

Aotearoa is a happy story of missed chances. Her personality wasn’t quite so complex, but I thought enough of her, I converted her into a different format and wrote a CYOA novella, rewriting an RP arc that didn’t go the way I wanted it.

There is one other... But I’ll bring that up later.

Moving on from KanColle...

I did a lot of faffing about with Strike Witches. I had four characters. Adeline Kain, Rebecca Moore, Tui Gray, and Helen Clapham. One of those names might be familiar. This... is where Helen Clapham originated. Strike Witches being Strike Witches, there was no active RPC for the setting, and I don’t blame anyone for that. I convinced three others to write it, among them Kako, and we did a brief thing together. 

I stuck with it longer than the rest; I still had my SW characters kicking about by the time I shut down the old blog, and elected not to bring them to this one.

Rebecca Moore was a favourite of mine in that time. It helped, however, that I wrote her with Kako. She had a more sophisticated story than the rest, and on top of that, she had a storyline. She showed up before, she helped Kako’s character, she helped another person’s character who affected Kako’s character -- and though her story ended before I really wanted it to, in a way she also got a happy ending. Still fighting the war, even after she was ordered to go home, helped by Keiko. Pulling her weight.

I’ll skip my attempts at Halo. They had some fun times, but not enough to really bring up. My attempt at Girls Frontline was stillborn. 

Strike Witches is where Helen Clapham got her start (originally with UMP40 as her FC). The Agency version of her started off as an AU, of Helen Clapham, the ex-witch bomber pilot. An AU where she never became a bomber pilot, and fell into another world. Three years later, Helen Clapham the bomber pilot no longer exists.

Agent Helen does, and she’s been a bundle of happy memories. I’m genuinely proud of how she’s developed over time. She’s the muse I’ve stuck with the most, the one who’s seen the most, who’s had the longest storyline. One that sees little sign of ending. Through thick and thin, she’s brought me to tears, she’s brought me to hugging my pillow and giggling to myself. Always with the satisfaction and cheer of writing a character I really, really enjoy. Those tears were not of frustration, and though they were shed in reaction to parts of her storyline that sadden me, they aren’t tears shed because I don’t like it. So I think she’s a big one there.

Victoria Collet deserves a spot here, but she should really be above with KanColle. She got her start back then, after all. She’s ‘Jewel of Windsor’ in the list. She is the only character from the KanColle blog, who survived the transition to other areas of writing. I think she was one of the characters I absolutely loved writing, even back then. Her origin story comes from H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, which is a semi-annual obsession of mine. Though that origin no longer exists, her current form is quite lovely. I always have a goofy smile on my face when I think of her, and her travels with Maria and Kazuko. She’s just a good bisexual girl who’s massively confused by her friends, a lesbian who commonly crossdresses as a man, and a boy who lives as a girl. 

Fubuki has been a story of indulging myself in a guilty pleasure, and genuinely enjoying writing her own stories. A kitsune, a samurai kitsune, an Oda samurai kitsune, a shrine maiden samurai kitsune, it’s indulging in a lot of stuff I like but hadn’t wanted to write before her, due to some embarrassment over the subjects. But encouragement from friends, particularly Kako, saw Fubuki come to be -- and I’ve enjoyed much of her.

Tikva got off to a rocky start. I originally conceived of her as a way to keep writing Cafe, during a moment of weakness where I was lamenting how some things had gone. She was going to be a carbon copy, Cafe’s AI turned human. But the RP partner I was going to write that with stopped writing, and honestly, in Tikva’s case it was likely for the best. 

Tikva’s story is far different to what the original thing was going to be. Who Tikva is now, is very different from who Cafe was, and she’s far better off for it. I am extremely grateful to Kako for helping me with everything with Tikva.

Okoori was my first foray into Touhou RP, and Kako helped immensely in her creation as well. She’s a bit of another self-indulgence. A woman who lives to make people happy, someone who wears elegant cloting, a bit of exposed skin, a youkai concept (yuki-onna) I really like. Writing her helped me get confident enough to adopt Aya as a canon muse, and have Fubuki chase a demon into a magical land.

Grani. Grani Grani Grani. I will be the first to admit, I’ve latched on to her very, very hard. I’ve made tons of headcanons, spend tons of time thinking about her, discussing her, looking at art of her. Thinking of her makes me smile, and writing her doesn’t often cause me to pause and have to think. I can fall into her mindset rather easily. 

Some people say I’m a lot like Grani myself; I’m short, excitable and generally cheerful, I have a strong sense of justice and desire to help others. My only worry sometimes is that my own sense of self might bleed into Grani, but all of what we write has something of ourselves in them. I try not to worry too much. 

There’s far more I could say. 

I could go through each and every single one of my current muses, and I could likely find something good to say about them -- even Chloe, who I haven’t written in a long time. I am very, very happy with my characters. 

Roleplaying is my main hobby, and has been for more than two years now. It’s a passion that I don’t want to lose anytime soon. I put a lot of effort into it, because I love writing with everyone, and I love it when a thread goes well.

So I guess I can say that, many of my recent RPC memories have been happy memories.

It’s likely best if I end it there, rather than continuing. After all, this reply is up to 1,400+ words.

#ooc #out of character #usagi mun speaks #dimensionaljumper

[queermediastudies]

Feminist Vampires: Don’t Invite Mainstream Audiences Inside! (Madi Mackey)

Bit, written and directed by Brad Michael Elmore, is the story of a young trans woman named Laurel who moves to Los Angeles and finds herself mixed up in a friend group of female vampires. She is quickly turned into a vampire herself and thrust into their world. Duke, the leader of the girl gang, implements some very strict rules for the group. The most important rule is to never turn a man into a vampire, stating that they can’t handle the power. The film follows the five young women as they navigate their lives as both vampires and members of a bustling Los Angeles night life. The drama comes to a peak when Laurel accidentally bites her brother and has to decide between saving his life and following Duke’s rules.

The film is an excellent example of modern day intersectional feminism. The core group of women is very diverse, representing African American, latina, butch, and transgender identities. They are all women-loving women in some sense, though their specific sexualities are never detailed. They are unflinchingly focused on retaining their power and their sisterhood by refusing to let a man into their groups and forbidding any usage of their mind-influencing powers on each other. However, the film is not perfect, and does not hold up to much scrutiny from a queer perspective. Duke, the previously mentioned leader, is also the only white girl in the group. Their hatred toward men could push the idea that all feminists hate men, further isolating the movement. Finally, the film does not mention class or any struggles associated with the marginalized communities the characters belong to, reducing the film to a post-gender, post-sexuality world. For these shortcomings, I argue that Bit is a great stride in the queer movie industry, but it misses the mark in many categories, and could therefore cause more damage to the trans, lesbian, and feminist communities than the positive impacts of such representation could outweigh, if it were to leave the arthouse and break into the mainstream.

One major theme in Bit is intersectional feminism. As mentioned before, the group of vampires is quite diverse, but this inclusion is only skin-deep. Their dynamic still enforces white, middle-class homonormativity. The girl with the most power is white and cisgender, and all of the girls are able-bodied and middle- to upper-class. Joyrich explains that television industries must continually portray homonormativity to maintain profits, and the same can be said for the film industry (2013, p. 5). Although this is a low-budget film that premiered at an independent film festival, the director, Elmore, stated in an interview that one of his main goals was for the movie to reach a larger audience of at-home viewers (Dunagan, 2019). His yearning for mass reception might have caused him to reproduce homonormativity for the film to be more palatable and, therefore, more profitable.

This is not the only flaw within the production practices for this film. Similar to criticisms regarding Pose and The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson, Elmore is a cis white man who took it upon himself to tell a queer story. By doing so, he took production resources and material benefits from its popularity away from the trans, lesbian, and POC communities who live the stories that he is telling (Tourmaline, 2017). Elmore explains that he read multiple theoretical texts and memoirs regarding gender while writing the script, and then had a close, gender non-conforming friend of his approve it before he, “felt more comfortable to show it to people in and around that conversation and community that I wasn’t close to” (Dunagan, 2019). While he did a fair bit of research into the community before creating the film, this isn’t the same as being a member of the community. Cavalcante explains this difference as a split between identifying with and identifying as a character, with identifying as a character always hitting closer to home and being more personal (2017, p. 14). Although Cavalcante makes this distinction in regards to audience reception, I believe it can be applied to production as well, and how Elmore wrote characters he could identify with, whereas a trans or POC writer could have written more personal characters that they identify as. Because Elmore is not trans or a POC, he needed to enforce homonormativity in his film in order to create characters that he identified with, as he has never lived as someone on the margins.

(Brad Michael Elmore, writer and producer of Bit)

Still, the production methods and content of the movie themselves could absolutely be described as queer. Benshoff & Griffin describe new queer cinema as films that have low-budgets, usually remain in the arthouse, and show the inadequacy of labels, instead focusing on the social discourses surrounding gender, race, and class (2004, pp. 11-12). Bit checks all of these boxes, even offering some helpful insights into social discourses. When Laurel, the transgender protagonist, is turned into a vampire, Duke tells her that their number one rule is to absolutely never turn a man. Laurel looks worried and asks, “What about me?” to which Duke responds, “Never even crossed my mind” (Elmore, 2019). Her immediate acceptance of Laurel’s identity expresses a consistent mood throughout the entire movie. Laurel’s transition and identity are never remarked in more explicit terms, and the sexuality and ethnicity of the other women are all treated with the same unspoken acceptance. The only identities that are ever mentioned are class and sex; Laurel asks one of the girls how they afford to live in L.A., and anyone who identifies as a man is immediately treated with contempt.

(watch video until 42:50)

While these approaches to intersectional identity may function well within the underground audience of new queer cinema, they could cause problems if Bit were to hit the mainstream. As Tongson explains, media representations help to produce our material realities; we rely on media to understand identities that we don’t know in the real world (2017, p. 158)). By ignoring the struggles of marginalized communities in the film, Bit raises more questions than it answers for viewers who are unfamiliar with these communities. Their confusion could cause these people on the margins to become cultural interpreters and explain their communities to those who don’t understand. Some see this as an opportunity to share their life experiences and cross cultural bridges; for others, it can become a burden of representation and they may lose a feeling of privacy (Cavalcante, 2017, p. 11). Bit could be seen as a welcome break from tragic representations for people within the trans community. Conversely,  Elmore’s silence on these issues could also lead mainstream audiences to believing that marginalized communities do not face any struggles in modern America, and therefore lose some empathy. 

This mediated understanding of reality could also be greatly detrimental to the feminist movement if it were to hit the mainstream. While I loved the explicitly feminist tone of the film, other audiences could find it off-putting and apply Bit’s ideology to all real-life feminists. The group of women in this film are quite outspoken around their distrust and distaste toward men. This could be applied to feminists, who are already called “man haters” in the real world as an attempt to invalidate their arguments. Elmore could be adding fuel to this fire by depicting feminists as exactly what the mainstream fears them to be.

Simultaneously, this bold approach to intersectional feminism is exactly why I, and many other queer viewers, love this film. My own subject positionality influences my understanding of Bit, just as those of mainstream audiences would make them feel differently about the film. I am a college-educated, middle-class, white, bisexual woman. I am also an outspoken feminist and socialist. All of my converging identities influence my view on this film and the opinions I have on its themes. As a young person who spends a lot of time in feminist spaces online, I felt such a rush while watching this film and hearing them directly saying things like, “Men can’t handle power. They have it already, and look at what they have done with it” (Elmore, 2019). A lot of people online say things about hating men, and I know from my own personal experience that the argument is so nuanced that it is simply easier to say “kill all men” than it is to explain what feminism really stands for and how it is, in fact, not simply man-hating. I love that this film expects the viewer to have this same knowledge, and can therefore say things like this without needing to defend itself and explain all of the nuance behind such a statement.

My status as middle-class and a socialist also have a great impact on my subject positionality and interpretation of Bit. Coming from a middle-class family and city, everything in the movie seemed normal to me. I was able to identify with the characters’ struggles, as they didn’t have anything to do with money or family issues. However, I could see this posing an issue for people who are struggling financially or with their family dynamic. To make up for this, the film has a lot of discourse regarding the redistribution of power and resources. Downward redistribution is a key tenant of leftism, so this movie displays clear leftist ideologies from a socio-political perspective (Duggan, 2002, p.XVI). We can see this in lines like, “How would you like to hold the keys to the kingdom for a change?” when Duke is talking to Laurel about turning, and at the very end of the movie, when Laurel’s brother asks her what they should do next and she responds, “Maybe what everyone with power should do and never does: share it” (Elmore, 2019).

(watch video until 1:30:00)

Finally, watching this film from the subject positionality of a woman greatly influenced my interpretation and reaction. At first, I was appalled by the group of girls and how nonchalantly they killed people, especially men. Laurel was written to have the same feelings of shock and disgust. So, when Duke said, “Our role is secondary. Our bodies are suspect, alien, other. We’re made to be monstrous, so let’s be monsters,” (Elmore, 2019) that was enough of an explanation for Laurel, and for myself, to become sympathetic to their cause. I have been personally affected by the feelings of otherness and being secondary that Duke lists, so this was a perfect line to change my opinion on their actions. However, if a man were to watch this film, especially if he were not to be a feminist, he might not be so sympathetic because he does not have the same experiences and understanding of what it is like to live in this world.

(watch until 41:12)

Bit is a film that crosses many boundaries, while still upholding some homonormativity for the sake of profit and consumption. It was written with the expectation of an audience that is knowledgeable of marginalized communities and social issues, making it thoroughly enjoyable to watch from a queer perspective. However, if the film were to break into the mainstream spotlight, its lack of nuance could cause harmful backlash toward trans communities, people of color, woman-loving women, and feminist movements. 

References

Benshoff, H. M. & Griffin, S. (2004). Queer cinema: The film reader. Psychology Press.

Cavalcante, A. (2017). Breaking into transgender life: Transgender audiences’ experiences with ‘first of its kind’ visibility in popular media. Communication, Culture & Critique, 10(3), 538-555. https://doi.org/10.1111/cccr.12165

Duggan, L. (2002). Introduction. In The twilight of equality? Neoliberalism, cultural politics, and the attack on democracy (pp. X-XXII). Beacon Press. 

Dunagan, R. (2019, August 2). Interview: A talk with Brad Michael Elmore, Director of OUTFEST’s ‘Bit’. Flipscreen. https://flipscreened.com/2019/08/02/interview-a-talk-with-brad-michael-elmore-director-of-outfests-bit/

Elmore, B. M. (Director). (2019). Bit [Film]. Vertical Entertainment.

Joyrich, L. (2013). Queer television studies: Currents, flows, and (main)streams. Cinema Journal, 53(2), 133-139. https://doi.org/10.1353/cj.2014.0015 

Tongson, K. (2017). Queer. In L. Ouellette & J. Gray (Eds.), Keywords for media studies (pp. 157-160). NYU Press. 

Tourmaline. (2017, October 11). Tourmaline on transgender storytelling, David France, and the Netflix Marsha P. Johnson Documentary. Teen Vogue. https://www.teenvogue.com/story/reina-gossett-marsha-p-johnson-op-ed 

#Bit movie #Queer Movie Review #Feminism #Transgender Representation #Woman-loving women #Redistribution

[luci-cunt]

@petalsfloating​ ilysm akjsdfajsdlfkjasdlk

#i want details#i am a fann#please how did mycroft and irene get together#how did sherlock and watson meet#is carrie realllly a babey do they have le qualifications huh#please no pressure but i would like to seee

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!!!! <333

(also @moonsandstarsaregay if you have anything to add on feel free <33)

Ok so #1: How did Mycroft and Irene get together? 

asldkfja;sljfal;sdkfj this one’s funny because Moony and I haven’t really thought about how they got together XDD, it was probably something like Mycroft going “oh my god you’re gorgeous please let me feed you expensive food and kiss u” and Irene going “abso-fucking-lutely” BUTT!!! the way they get engaged,,,,, now that’s a story!!!

I’ll give u a snippet from the plot outline: 

[More happens but later on Mycroft wisens up and runs through the rain to stand, dripping, on Sherlock’s doorstep asking for Irene.]

“Irene Adler,” Mycroft said softly, her voice shook as she said it, and it was like watching rain fall up seeing this woman so fragile as she watched Irene through her wet, ruined hair. “When I look at you I feel more than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I hate it sometimes, because I think it’s going to kill me,” she took a long breath, setting her jaw as her eyes shone with emotion. “But hell is a heaven compared to what life would be like without you.” 

“Yes,” Irene said, tears streaking down her face as she reached out for Mycroft and kissed her frantically. It seemed like an odd response, at least until Mycroft broke from the kiss to curse. 

“Jesus fucking christ woman I didn’t even pull out the ring yet,” she hissed, and Irene laughed though her sob and threw herself into Mycroft’s arms. 

#1: Is Carrie really a baby?

In the figurative sense of the word? yes. In the physical sense of the word? No akjdssadflkajsd, he’s actually older than Watson!

For context, Carrie, Bill, Watson, and Kent had all been in foster care for a while before they got dumped into a boys home where they all met and became really quick friends. Carlton Watson--a local police chief--helped out at the home enough that he and the boys started getting close, and then when the ppl running the home found out Bill was a “girl” (because he’s transitioned but hasn’t had surgery) they were going to send him to a girls home and in order to avoid that Carlton adopts Bill, but he can’t just leave the other boys so he adopts them all. Their actual ages go: Kent, then Carrie and Bill, and then Watson, but the fam acts like Kent and Watson are the oldest. 

Also Carrie and Bill always get called the “twins” because their birthdays are like 3 days apart and they make it “twin week.” Also they’re the closest of the brothers and just akjd;flakjsdf perfect I love them so much. 

“Do they have le qualifications?” alksdjf;lajsdflkajsd absolutely. 

Carrie doesn’t like confrontation, at all--he had a special spot under the stairs he used to hide in when he was growing up anytime the boys started fighting. He also jsut really wants everyone to get along. He and Bill share an apartment with some roommates because both of them had a hard time moving out of Carlton’s place. He became a cop because his brothers (except Watson) and dad did and he wanted to work with them more. aajsd;lkfajlsdk there’s more but this is so long I love him he’s babey.

Here’s a snippet (also this is technically the begining of Sherlock and Watson’s 2nd meeting!): 

he got a text from Bill. Dinner.  Bill always phrased questions like that, rarely using question marks. It was something he’d picked up from Kent and Carlton--though, which one of them got it from the other was debatable. Carrie was the only one aside from Watson himself who had actual manners, and his text came through a few minutes after Bill’s. Dinner? Bill wants Chinese but I want pizza. Thoughts? 

Before Watson could answer however, another text came through. Please say pizza? Ask Kent, I don’t care. Watson tapped out, filling his coffee maker with water and flicking it on. He poked his head in his fridge, but the contents were abysmal, so he stuck a bagel in the toaster and called it good as his phone rang again. Kent said to ask you :( Because of course he did. A text from Bill came through. If u say yes to pizza its favoritism and Ill hate u forever. Carrie’s: pleeeeaaaseee came through at the same time, along with a string of emojis.    Instead of answering Watson called Kent. “What do you want?” Kent answered, picking up on the third ring like he always did. “Pizza or Chinese?” Watson asked. “I’m working Watty,” Kent said, with an exhausted sounding sigh. Watson just waited, and he heard another sigh before the sound of Kent opening the door to his office to yell for Bill and Carrie to stop bothering Watson and get back to work. “There,” he said, back on the phone. “Thanks, are you still working the DeMain case?” Watson asked, pouring his finished coffee into a mug and singing his fingers on the toasted bagel. “Yeah, it’s mostly just paperwork at this point.” “Make the twins do it.” “I’m not--what do you want? What--yeah it’s Watty wh--what?” Kent’s tone suddenly went up four octaves in surprise and Watson furrowed his brow. Before he could get a word in though Kent was back on the line. “Jonathan Watson do you have something to tell me?” he said sharply, and Watson blinked, freezing where he was about to bite into the bagel. “What?” Watson managed. “Do we get to go to the reception at least!?” Carrie’s muffled voice came over the line, which only proved to further confuse Watson. “Watty there’s a nutjob here for you claiming to be your husband,” Bill’s voice suddenly piped in, and Watson swore colorfully. “This had better be some asshole I need to have committed because if this is how I’m finding out--” Kent threatened, and Watson tipped his head back and muttered more curses at the ceiling. “No--no, I’m not--Jesus--relax, ok, I’m not married or getting married,” Watson said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

#3: How did Sherlock and Watson meet? 

At a crime scene askdjf;lasjdf;lkj Watson was hired to steal Sherlock’s job but instead he helped solve the case and then Sherlock fell in love and moved from Portland to Seattle so he could work with him more kajs;dlfkjalsdfj

Here’s a snippet: 

[WARNING: non-graphic mentions of suicide]

Before he could really look into it, however, the front door slammed open. “Remarkable how you didn’t even think to call me--” a man said as he sauntered in. “You’re giving me the impression you don’t like me.” The man’s grin was feral looking, a bit unsettling. He was tall--though shorter than Watson by almost a full foot--and lanky. Seemingly all long, sharp limbs that somehow managed to fall exactly where he seemed to want them. He was wearing a haphazard version of the clean suits, with the actual jumpsuit only half on and a pair of gloves. His longer brown hair was tied back and he didn’t have a mask on. Watson knew in a moment this must be Sherlock, and he was already annoyed by the man simply by his blatant disrespect of sterile crime scenes. He looked like a TV show detective, it was infuriating. “Montez! Baby! Give me the details, who’s our lady?” the man said with a sloppy grin as he crossed the room with his arms out. “What was it this time? Pills? No--don’t answer that I can see it,” he said, frowning a little as he examined the woman’s body, lingering for a moment on the slipper that had fallen off. “See, funny story, I actually didn’t call you because I don’t want you here,” Montez said with a scowl Watson could see even behind her mask. “You just keep getting funnier Montez,” Sherlock said, cocking his head and then following some invisible trail to the bathroom, where Watson was still standing. Watson went back to looking at the iPad. The doctor who’d prescribed the pills appeared to be legit, and the pharmacy was too--just down the street actually. He was scrolling through the other crime scenes to check for pills as well when suddenly Sherlock stopped in front of him. “You--” the man said, narrowing his eyes on Watson. “--are new…” “They called him in to disprove your crack-pipe theory,” Montez said, and Watson suppressed a sigh. “Really?” Sherlock said, his smile was not the reaction Watson expected. “And what are you looking up Mr. Job-Stealer?” He asked, standing on his toes to look over the top of the iPad. Watson jerked it out of view without thinking, but that just made Sherlock’s grin widen. “Oh! That’s something new--look Montez he doesn’t think your people can do basic detective work,” Sherlock said, before patting Watson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry you’re not wrong but--” “What?” Montez asked, and Watson really did sigh then. “I’m not--” Watson started, but Sherlock was spinning around. “I’ll make this easy for you Mr. Job-Stealer,” Sherlock said. “Doctor,” Watson said through gritted teeth. “Doctor Watson.”    “She did kill herself doctor Job-Stealer, I’m sure you’ve come to that conclusion, I’m sure you all have--I’d honestly be worried if you didn’t,” he started rambling, and Watson scowled as he went back to the iPad, only half listening as the man continued. “As you can see this room is what one might call the dictionary’s definition of a depressed woman’s home. The curtain’s drawn--no natural light, a dying plant that must have only recently stopped getting regular water, the mess around the corners, like she only had the energy to clean up the center--” Watson frowned as he realized another connection. All the suicide victims had been taking the same antidepressents, prescribed by different doctors, but, they were all getting their prescriptions from the same pharmacy down the street. “--and there’s the disaster of a kitchen, I’m sure the fridge was emptier than heaven, and--” Watson was so busy double checking his findings that he didn’t notice Sherlock slowly coming back over with his head cocked and a curious expression on his sharp face. “--there’s the matter of the slipper, I’m sure of course you found the pills in the bathroom, you can see the scuff marks from where she dragged her feet as she got… closer to the… couch as the drugs kicked… in--Doctor what are you so interested in?” Watson’s head snapped up and he blinked out of his thoughts. “Ah--” he said, but Sherlock stole the iPad, scrolling through the page and flipping through the other’s Watson had been looking at as his eyes widened, and then he looked up at Watson. “You--” Sherlock started, “Are the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, please explain and tell the cops to catch up,” he said, and then he was gone. Watson blinked, his brain reeling as he tried to comprehend exactly what just happened. “The fuck was that?” Montez asked, and Watson fumbled to come up with a response. “I--uhm--I don’t--” he managed. Thankfully the detective didn’t seem to be actually paying him any attention, instead leaning out the doorway of the apartment to yell something at Sherlock. When that didn’t get her anywhere she turned back to Watson. “Where is he going?” she asked, and Watson just flipped the iPad around to show the pharmacy’s address. 

#OS&W #alkjds;flajs;dlfkjasdlkfj ilysm for fueling my addiction

[supermoviemaniac]

CAPTAIN MARVEL REVIEW [SPOILER-FREE]...

For some reason, there's been this toxic, volatile mass of incredibly opinionated people that have made their voices heard since this movie was announced in 2014, and their disgust for this film's existence has only snowballed since. And here we are; the movie is out, the internet is pointlessly enraged (because internet), and people are dishing out their reviews. Some people just can't wrap their heads around or accept that a female is the main hero, which is scarce throughout all superhero franchises at the moment. Is it fear hidden behind disgust? I don't know. Whatever it is, it's pretty sad.

Here's the thing, it's okay not being interested in a movie, but the way most negative people are coming across is sheer disapproval, not apprehension or scepticism. This goes for any film or franchise that has done the same, or is planning to do so. Heaven forbid we get an overdue female hero lead, twenty-one movies in, right?! But with all this being said, I'm going to review this movie simply as a movie. I'm not going to give it bonus points because she's a woman, nor am I gonna lower my score because she's a woman. I'm reviewing it as the next installment in the MCU, and as a standalone piece.

Right off the bat, I thoroughly enjoyed Captain Marvel. I'd read a few reviews before going to see it, but after seeing it for myself, I'm genuinely confused as to why the majority of people are giving it a "Yeaah, it's alright", reception. That's fine of course, but I found a lot to love about this nostalgic, sci-fi, buddy-cop movie. It's an above-par film when comparing it to other cinematic releases, but because we only tend to compare these films to other MCU installments at this point, people's standards are incredibly high, and dare I say we're somewhat spoilt because of this? I try to appreciate a movie for what it is, rather than what it isn't... Regardless I enjoyed it.

Think of it this way... Imagine how hard it is to keep finding new/fresh ways of doing an origin story for a new character, whilst making sure it's not the traditional style of origin, this far into a franchise. The lost memory and mystery keeps you guessing, and there were some very satisfying revelations. You have an idea of who she is and what she stands for, but you can't help but think she's being suppressed for some reason. You follow her journey, watching Carol slowly re-find herself to eventually let loose, showing what she's truly made of (literally). The intrigue and mystery elements aren't difficult to follow either so don't worry about the movie unintentionally muddling itself with too much shroudery (yeah, I just made that word up, but you know what I mean).

Brie Larson plays both a convincing Captain Marvel and Carol Danvers. The stubbornness that masks her compassion lets you know that yes, don't get on the wrong side of her, but it's never in an arrogant way. She's very likeable in the sense that she's never unnecessarily rude. Yeah, in her urge to prove herself initially, she's a little reckless, but that goes for every superpowered person that's finding how far they can push it. As the movie goes on, the more she discovers about herself and the world she's a part of. I could see a slow transition from start to finish. The human she truly is eventually works hand-in-hand with her god-like power, so you're not just watching some crazy omnipotent being rip everything a new one, you see Carol at the same time.

It's obvious I'm going to say Fury was awesome in this. I'm glad he had a lot to do in this, because I was worried he was gonna be a glorified cameo overused in the trailers, but he's not. It was cool seeing this pre-avengers Nick not quite on top of the S.H.I.E.L.D foodchain, but you see how he eventually becomes so. Somehow, he has the most sass in the movie. The de-aging technology is literally unnoticeable too, it was like genuinely looking at a younger Sam Jackson. The same goes for Clark Gregg as Coulson. I was trying hard to spot any rubbery CGI on their faces, but I couldn't. It was great.

Okay, I've been dying to talk about the Skrulls. I love, love, love them. I desperately want more of them in the future of the MCU. I don't care what direction they take with them, I just wanna see them again. I appreciated the use of practical make-up for them, and I really dug Talos' aussie accent. If I had to come up with an accent for a Skrull leader, I wouldn't have thought of giving him such a voice, but I'm glad they did because it's great. I have no issues with the supporting cast either, other than perhaps I'd have liked to have seen more, but there's only so much you can fit into a debut film, when the hero is the focal point. What I will say is that it was nice revisiting the Kree and fleshing out their portion of the MCU.

Finishing up, I can't wait to watch Captain Marvel again. The score, the aesthetics, the characters, and the references to the wider franchise (subtle and on the nose) were contributing factors to my enjoyment, but Captain Marvel as a hero is a why this movie succeeds. Well done Brie! Another fine addition to the MCU, and I can't wait to see what she brings to the table for Endgame! If you're not scared about a female being the lead role in a superhero movie, then you should enjoy it also.

#marvel #comics #cinema #movies #mcu #avengers #film #comic books #infinity war #disney #brie larson #captain marvel #endgame #marvel cinematic universe #feminist #feminism #tom hiddleston #tom holland

[persephonewing]

Choosing a New Name for a Truer Body: Introducing Persephone

After coming out as a Transgender Woman a few days ago, nothing has really felt the same. Or, in more positive terms, everything is feeling more real. I’m openly talking about being and feeling like a woman. How my gender dysphoria has confused and harmed me for the past twenty one years and all the many transitions (Socially, culturally, physically) that will and are currently happening to me. 

Upon this, just yesterday, me and one my best friends, Emma, were swimming at a nearby lake here at Eastern Washington University. We had been playing around with names. For a moment I was dead set on the name Camilla. It had a C in it, like my boy name so it felt familiar. It allowed me to feel comfortable, passable, and like a cis-woman. A simple name that no one would question, look at, or invalidate. In a way, the name Camilla itself made me feel like it would protect me from the cis, straight world but as all trans women come to know, I would never be accepted there. A fate Persephone came to understand too.

I expressed this to Emma on the trip. How I wanted to find a name. A name that really encompassed my story, my truth, and my unwavering love and comfortability in womanhood.

 Emma is an art history major and is just an overall intelligent girl. I asked her about names that would fit me in her realm of knowledge. Maybe some from the greek classics and/or greek myths. 

This is when she told me the story of Persephone, the greek goddess of spring and the underworld. I was in complete euphoria hearing the story and swaying on the surface of the buoyant, dirty water. I felt like a true women just then as Jalaja Bonheim’s writes on her website, 

“When women get together, they tell stories. This is how it has always been. Telling stories is our way of saying who we are, where we have come from and what we know. Women have always found sacredness in the midst of the ordinary, harvesting spiritual wisdom from the fields and forests of their everyday embodied experience.”

Emma went on to tell me the story and the raping of beautiful Persephone. I felt myself slowly being connected to this woman. To her entire experience. I felt myself slowly unpacking, relating, and bonding to this mythical figure.

Persephone is seen as a more vulnerable goddess. Where relationships are essential to her life, as they are to my own. Her whole life, a relationship has taken the lead. Most times over what she really wants and desires. She is known for putting the needs of others over her own, something I have struggled with my whole life. 

Her mother, the powerful goddess Demeter, is controlling and desperately wishes to be with her daughter at all times. Her rapist and husband Hades forces her for a third of the year to be imprisoned with him. She is even the goddess that welcomes the living and shows them the underworld and teaches them about life and death. Plus her constant affairs and dramas with the other gods all goes to prove that this woman takes the people and relationships in her life very seriously. 

This isn't to be confused with weakness, confusion, or stupidity as so many people try to say she is. She loves and she loves hard. She knows both love and loss profoundly. She knows the horror of powerful men deciding and controlling her every move. She knows what it means to transcend through death (her being brought to the underworld with hades) and to be born again as a more powerful, authentic, and understanding woman (when she becomes free again with her mother, picking flowers). She knows sisterhood, struggle, and lust. To me, Persephone is the definition of my womanhood. She embodies a lot of what womanhood looks like for myself and my life. 

The article “Greek Goddesses and the Wisdom of 7 Feminine Archetypes” by Ibtisaam writes about this group of vulnerable goddesses, saying 

“Vulnerable Goddesses (Hera, Demeter and Persephone)... Correspond to traditional roles of wife, mother, and daughter. They are the relationship-oriented goddess archetypes, whose identities and well-being depend on having a significant relationship. They express women’s needs for affiliation and bonding… each of them also evolved, and can provide women with an insight into the nature and pattern of their own reactions to loss, and the potential for growth through suffering.”

Focusing more about Peresphone the author writes 

“Persephone contains within her the dual archetype of the maiden (a young goddess, innocent and associated with fertility) and the Queen of the Underworld (“who reigns over the dead souls, guides the living who visit the underworld, and claims for herself what she wants”). To be the maiden has less to do with age than it does to do with “being the eternal girl who doesn’t commit herself to anything or anyone, because making a definite choice eliminates other possibilities”. While this allows for great adaptability, in order to truly grow, the Persephone woman must learn to make commitments and to live up to them. Failing this, she will forever be a victim of the will and power of others, becoming a long-sufferer or martyr. However, her descent into the underworld shows the possibility of pain forcing growth. As the Queen, Persephone symbolizes receptivity, intuition and empathy to the suffering of others. Thus, Persephone’s gifts include the cultivation of imagination and inspiration.”

As Emma contuined on with the stories I noticed many men started to take the form of Hades in my vision. My dad, my step-dad, my first love, my brother, and the male world at large. Hades had come to symbolize body dysmorphia and the privileged male world. 

Here is Persephone, me. A girl picking flowers, enjoying and comforted by her mother, resting in her beauty and strength. Thinking of nights with her sisters, of lust and love. A girl that wanted to see things, know things, teach things. A girl that wanted the comfortable, dramatic, and loving life as a wife and sister. Just a woman, end of sentence. 

Then a man comes. He corrupts, harms, and oppresses her. Steals her away from her mother and her sisters (stealing her away from her womanhood) and into a world of oppression, abuse, neglect, and pain. A world that some could see, as I do, as a males world. A world that I nor Persephone have been allowed to survive in. Hades kid-napes her, rapes her, holds her prisoner, and slowly tries to make her become what so many women fear to become: a shell of her former, womanly self. 

I felt a massive connection here, I knew what it was like to be taken from the world of women (as I was younger) and into the world of men (when I was older) and feeling completely  disgusted, unnerved, and wrong about it. 

But, Persephone is not weak. She’s smart. She was able to become free. Hades had fallen in love with her womanhood the moment he saw it and she knew that this was his biggest flaw. She had something that she could use. She decided to be his wife because even though he symbolized and represented the worst of manhood, she knew there would be freedom in having access to both worlds. In having relationships in both worlds. She does this even when others don't understand it. Even when people try to rob her of her femininity, she powers on as the undercover ruler of both worlds. 

I relate to this as a woman who consistently feels divided between these two spheres. 

My world of womanhood where I am truly myself, beautiful, and authentic. With other women who protect and respect and care for me. Who love me. Where I can flip my hair, cry, drink wine, and talk about struggle. And the other world, the underworld, where I am surviving, working, and grinding to change and mold into a body and life that is not mine. 

Persephone knows pain, hurt, loss, and grief. Her mission is to help every passenger, in both worlds, better understand themselves and the complexities of living life. This has always been my mission as well and hurt as been the greatest teacher to both of us.

Persephone symbolizes everything I have felt myself to be as a woman. Loving, forgiving, powerful. A woman who gets what she wants even when everyone thinks they have her in the bag. She knows growth and transformation. She is a woman that I have always felt myself to be. 

So now, with the thanks of Emma and research, I am changing my first name to be Persephone. A name that my younger self would've cherished. A deserving name for a deserving woman.

[fightmeyeats]

Let’s Make it That Deep: Thinking about the Surveillance State, Racial Politics, and Humanity in Terminator: Dark Fate

This week I watched Terminator: Dark Fate, which carries forward from the second Terminator film, Terminator: Judgement Day (1991), wisely ignoring everything that happened in movies 3-5. Dark Fate is set in the year 2020 and follows Dani Ramos, humanity’s new hope to survive the future robot apocalypse, as she, Grace (an augmented human from the future), Sarah Connor, and Carl (a T-800 model terminator) fight against a Rev-9 sent back in time to kill Dani. Overall, to quote my sibling, the movie “isn’t a literary masterpiece,” but it is fairly enjoyable--especially if you’re thirsting over the main leads. However, because I have a feral academic-garbage brain I also wanted to spend some time unpacking what I saw as the film’s three major discourses: surveillance/technological inevitability, race politics, and human exceptionalism. These are fraught discourses, often represented in contradictory and confusing ways over the course of the film, but I think it is generative to sit with them and to try to work out what messages are intentionally and/or unintentionally being conveyed through the movie, as well as what the potentials and limitations of these messages might be. 

Spoilers ahead.

i. Surveillance & Technological Inevitability

Before getting into the content of the film, one thing which may be useful to consider is how the movie previews shown in the theater before the start of the movie contextualize reception and engagement with the actual story Terminator: Dark Fate tells. There were quite a few trailers before the movie--enough so that one patron a few seats down in my row loudly commented “is the movie going to start now or what??” as yet another trailer started playing, the majority of which were either for war or horror movies. The two in particular I am interested in discussing are The King’s Man (2020) and Midway (2019), and the way that they both glorify and justify the imperialist/security state. The King’s Man trailer, for example, positions the titular agency as being an “independent intelligence agency” which essentially is able to actively “protect” people while governments fall short. In between clips from the film, title cards read "witness the rise...of the civilized," a shockingly open and yet seemingly unconscious connection between the King’s Man narrative and British colonialism/imperialism. Immediately following this trailer is one for Midway, a WWII moving centering on the aircraft carrier USS Midway immediately after the events of Pearl Harbor, which a character in the trailer calls “the greatest intelligence failure in the history of the US”. The reason why these trailers are important to keep in mind is because they implicitly respond to some of the anxieties articulated in Terminator; if Terminator films speak to fears of technology and surveillance, these trailers argue that really technology, surveillance, and military power are all important aspects of “civilized” nations, necessary for security and safety. 

This actually ties in immediately to the opening of Terminator: Dark Fate, and the death of John Connor which can be interpreted, in one sense, as a failure of surveillance. This actually specifically made me think of Inderpal Grewal’s article “Security Moms,” and the rise of the neoliberal female citizen subject as an agent of security through motherhood in the post 9/11 U.S. The “security mom, essentially, is a “conceptualization of women as mothers seeking to protect their innocent children - a figure that is not so new in the history of modern nationalisms, or even American nationalisms and racism” (Grewal 27). Much like the King’s Man trailer suggestion that private intelligence is better suited to save lives than governmentalized intelligence, “neoliberalism suggests that the state is unable to provide security and thus it disavows its ability to protect all citizens”--only in here, it is the figure of the mother rather than a private agency which becomes the new and better fitted agent of surveillance, always watching for enemies in order to protect their children (Grewal 28). In a voice over, Sarah Connor tells us that she “saved three billion people but [she] couldn’t save [her] son”; a T-800 (Arnold Schwarzenegger) model Terminator which had been sent back before Skynet was destroyed and continued carrying out orders “from a future that never happened” walks right past Sarah and shoots John. While Sarah leaps in to action after she recognizes the threat, she is unable to stop the T-800 from killing her son in seconds. This might actually be a key difference between Sarah Connor and Grewal’s “security mom”: while security moms are a largely a post-9/11 construction of neoliberal/nationalist motherhood, Sarah Connor was a successful security mom in 1991, constantly vigilant and constantly surveilling her surroundings for concealed enemies who could kill her son. In the post-9/11 era, Sarah Connor’s belief that the apocalypse has been averted causes her to believe that she and her son are safe, resulting in inadequate surveillance/vigilance and her son’s death. Much like the framing of Pearl Harbor in the Midway trailer and 9/11 in real life, disasters happen because of failures to appropriately surveil. 

Technological state surveillance itself is reflected in strange ways in the film, which seems to be at once critiquing and accepting constant surveillance. Sarah Connor keeps her cell phone in a chip bag to avoid being tracked and tells Grace and Dani that they will not last without her help because they are not aware of the constant surveillance occurring at every traffic light, every store, every gas station, etc--information the Rev-9 terminator chasing Dani will certainly have access to. Terminator: Dark Fate expresses fears of technological abuse/control and surveillance, but constantly frames these fears as the failure of the government to control these technologies--the threat isn’t what the government will do or is doing with these technologies, but rather that these technologies are uncontrollable or might be used by enemy agents. While one could argue that the fear being expressed here is actually a critique of the existence of surveillance technologies--that technologies exist for a reason and will do what they are programmed to do--this framing overwhelmingly still imagines a kind of governmental neutrality, where the threat is the located exclusively in the technology itself, not in those creating and using it. Here I also want to emphasize that while in Judgement Day there’s a deeper critique of the military industrial complex and the role of private corporations, in Dark Fate it appears to be the government alone engaged in constant surveillance and the technologies which result in the robot apocalypse, with the role of capitalism largely obscured from the connection between the new evil AI, Legion. In this same vein, while it seems that Legion is built as a weapon by the government, but we do not even explicitly know which government--again, the threat isn’t government construction of Legion (although Sarah does comment “they never learn”) but rather the technology itself. 

In the original movies, Skynet was a defensive surveillance software--but this is no longer science fiction; as Edward Snowden revealed/confirmed in 2013, constant mass surveillance is a real thing, and there are real ways people can avoid it (using VPNs, encryption, covering webcams, anti-facial recognition makeup (called CV dazzle), wearing disguises, etc). Despite this, and despite Sarah Connor’s awareness of constant surveillance, the characters don’t do much to avoid surveillance and just as Sarah originally predicted, the Rev-9 easily tracks them through governmental surveillance apparatuses. In the same way, surveillance and the technological abuse/carelessness which bring about the robot apocalypse are largely imagined inevitable. While there is a constant argument for agency and the idea that people can and must make choices in the present moment that determine the future, nothing is done to disrupt surveillance in the present moment, and the future seems to be unstoppable. While we can certainly think about the switch from Skynet to Legion, and the way this articulates a different set of social concerns and anxieties in 2019 than in the late 80s/early 90s, stopping Skynet delays but does not prevent what seems to be, from a material standpoint, the same future. In this same vein, when Grace dies so that Dani can use her power source to destroy the Rev-9, Grace tells Dani “we both knew I wasn’t coming back”; this frames her death as predetermined and fixed. Similarly, at the end of the film Sarah tells Dani she will help her to “prepare”, implicitly suggesting that the future cannot be prevented--further legitimizing the reading of the Skynet to Legion switch as an inability to meaningfully change the future. This brings us to the line used both in Judgement Day and Dark Fate: “there is no fate but what we make for ourselves”. While this line seems to suggest that we have agency and can make choices that change the future, the inability to actually enact change might instead lead to a counter reading of the line: is it that we make fate, or that the fate we get is the one we “deserve”? 

ii. Race (& Gender) Politics

There’s actually quite a bit to think about in terms of the racial politics of Terminator: Dark Fate. One the one hand, we can certainly think about the underlying savior discourse and the transition of this role from a white man to a Mexican woman. There is some fairly heavy handed Christian symbolism involved in John Connor as the white male hero—John’s initials parallel him to Jesus Christ, and Sarah comments “let her play Mother Mary for a while” when she thinks Dani has become the new target because a son Dani will someday give birth to will be the new savior of humanity. Sarah also comments that Dani isn’t the threat, it’s her womb. I want to go two directions on this comment: first, while it of course turns out that Dani is the hero herself, the idea of Latinx wombs as a threat is intricately tied to U.S. immigration policies and histories of eugenics, with the imagined threat being to the preservation of the (white) nation, so to here articulate the idea of Latinx reproduction as a kind of weapon to protect humanity is to offer something very different from a discourse of salvation through white reproduction/motherhood. Second, this line offers a kind of meta commentary on the way the previous movies claimed John as the savior (despite Sarah’s own heroism) to convince viewers that Dark Fate is more politically aware than previous Terminator movies, since Dani is the one destined to save the world (which  of course ties back into my previous discussion of the unresolved tension between fate and agency), not her son and not a white man.

Moving beyond the switch in hero, one of the main things I want us to consider in thinking about the racial politics of Dark Fate is the question of collateral damage: while it’s nothing unusual to see large amounts of collateral damage in the background of an action movie, here this damage seems to be located exclusively in the Global South (specifically Mexico). Most (but not all) of the destruction is disassociated from individual people--for example, in one scene the Rev-9 drives a bulldozer down the wrong side of a freeway, crushing or crashing into numerous cars which obviously have people inside, even though we do not see most of them. Scenes of damage or interactions between populations and the Rev-9 in the U.S. do not result in death the same way that they do in Mexico/along the border. When the Rev-9 is knocked off of a plane after take off and crashes into a backyard in Texas, for example, he picks himself up and apologizes to the white people barbecuing in the yard for destroying their shed before continuing on his way. Similarly, when he flies over a military base which is actively attacking him, he ignores them and continues his pursuit of Dani without fighting back. While in both of these cases, one might argue that this is connected to the Rev-9’s obsession with fulfilling his mission without needing to kill anyone who is not actually preventing him from reaching Dani, a) this is a work of fiction so someone decided that the Rev-9 could fulfill his mission with minimal collateral damage in some spaces but not others, and b) in the final fight at the dam, the workers simply disappear when the fighting begins, removing them from any risk of becoming collateral damage. 

Although there are action scenes throughout the movie, the last scene to involve mass violence against background characters is in the detention center. Before I get into the discussion of collateral damage/background character death at the detention center, I want to start by discussing border crossing and the representation of the detention center more broadly. There are some ways in which Dark Fate does attempt to address the violence involved in detention centers and U.S. immigration policy, but overwhelmingly it falls short. One of the ways we see this is in the actual crossing of the border and the way that it’s not particularly difficult or dangerous for Dani, Grace, and Sarah to cross. Certain popularized images of border crossing are deployed in ways which might suggest this is an authentic look at what it means to cross borders without documents (Dani, Grace, and Sarah ride on the top of a train with other migrants, which I suspect draws from the documentary Which Way Home, and Dani’s uncle, a Coyote, helps them cross the desert and enter the U.S. through a tunnel under the border wall), however the way these images are used as a shorthand undermines the danger undertaken/violence experienced by real undocumented migrants as the result of U.S. border policy. Riding the freight trains, called El tren de la muerte or La Bestia (the Death Train or The Beast) in real life, is highly dangerous and many people are killed or suffer serious and long term injuries as a result, and although we are told that Dani’s uncle is a good Coyote who gets people across safely (and he is of course helping his own niece), crossing the desert is extremely dangerous and many people die. Representing this crossing in maybe 10 minutes of screen time makes it seem easy and safe, obscuring the very real dangers faced by migrants in real life. Similarly, in the detention center border patrol agents are represented as apathetic but not particularly violent/dangerous, and the depictions of the cages migrants are kept in do not come close to reflecting the overcrowding experienced by the people who are being imprisoned in detention centers in real life. Furthermore, the imprisoned migrants do not have speaking roles and become non-agentive; the real suffering of undocumented migrants becomes nothing more than a setting, offering no significant or useful critique of U.S. border policies/politics. This brings us back to that question of collateral damage in the detention center. After Grace breaks out of the medical room she was being held in, she unlocks all of the cages and detained migrants begin to flee; although I have seen this described in some places online as her “freeing” them, escaping migrants become a distraction which aids in Dani, Sarah, and Grace’s actual escape from the detention center and the Rev-9 which has caught up with them. While most of the violence is enacted on border patrol agents rather than migrants (which is good), the Rev-9 does kill/harm some of the migrants who block his path as they attempt to escape, and the only border patrol agent we can identify as a speaking character to be killed is the Black woman who was pointedly apathetic to Dani’s pleas for help during the intake process. Most, if not all, of the other border patrol agents with speaking lines at the detention center are white, and seem to be framed as almost more sympathetic; the medical personnel fixing Grace’s wounds, for example, notices the metal interlaid in her body and are horrified by “what’s been done to her,” viewing her as a victim to be sympathized with. While one of the guards insists “we call them detainees” when Grace escapes from her handcuffs and demands to know where the prisoners are being kept, which offers an attempted commentary on the linguistic obscuration of violence and white apathy, we again must come back to the fact that the white medical guard is left unharmed while the Black guard is very pointedly killed. 

We might push back on this overall interpretation by thinking about the ways that in real life people of color can become complicit in systems of white supremacy which will ultimately harm them while continuing to overwhelmingly protect white citizens, as well as the way that the Global South so frequently is a site of collateral damage, and experiences the displaced violence of the Global North. However, what I want us to think about is that this kind of intervention is useless when it is left latent, and overall only feeds into the constant racialized violence which plays out in movies and television programming. Furthermore, I want us to think about James Cameron’s comment about Judgement Day when he said that the T-1000 looked like an LAPD officer because “the Terminator films are...about us losing touch with our own humanity and becoming machines, which allows us to kill and brutalize each other. Cops think of all non-cops as less than they are”. While some have argued that Dark Fate picks up this legacy by making border patrol the villains, and the Rev-9 does clearly represent a military/border patrol kind of threat, the Rev-9 is also always a person of color. The base appearance, played by Gabriel Luna, is a man of color, and every single person it transforms itself to look like (which we are told kills the person being copied) is also a person of color. Because of this, there is a way in which the critique of border patrol is divorced from white supremacy and people of color become part of what is imagined as the threat. 

iii. Thinking About Humanity 

Finally, this ties into the discussion of humanity and the idea of human exceptionalism and purity articulated throughout Dark Fate. As with much of what I have previously talked about, this is a frequently contradictory kind of discourse which simultaneously broadens and constrains the idea of what “humanity” is/means. One example of this is the way in which augments and terminators that grow a conscious queer the boundary between “human” and “machine.” When Sarah demands they shoot Carl in the face to see what he “really is,” Dani insists “I don’t really care what he is”; through this there seems to be, on some level, an articulation that there’s more to being “human” than literally being a human being. Furthermore, these characters are queer in multiple dimensions--Grace is a very butch, very queer feeling character, and while I don’t want to say that the reformed murderous robot said Ace Rights, Carl’s character does push back against the heteronormative coital imperative by through his relationship to Elisa and his adopted son Mateo, which offers a model of meaningful romantic partnership and family commitment which does not involve biological reproduction or sexual intimacy. However, despite these queer potentials, we are constantly pushed back towards a privileging of “human” through frequent assertions that Grace is human (not a machine, just augmented), that augmentation is unstable (Grace’s frequent metabolic crashes and dependence on a cocktail of medication to keep herself going), and Carl only has the approximation of a conscious and cannot love the way humans do. Furthermore, Carl and Grace both die, suggesting that this queering of the human/machine boundary is untenable. 

So what does “humanity” mean in Dark Fate? Ultimately, it seems to mean protecting the vulnerable and being willing to sacrifice yourself to do it. During the final confrontation between Dani, Sarah, Grace, and Carl, the Rev-9 says “I know she’s a stranger, why not let me have her”; Sarah responds: “Because we’re not machines you metal motherfucker”. While I obviously think the film offers a confused message on agency and that we need to be critical of the racial politics of the film, this ties into what I think (or what I would like to think) the movie hoped to say about border patrol and detention centers: we need to do better by refugees and undocumented migrants. It doesn’t matter whether we know someone, whether we imagine they are deserving or undeserving, what it might or might not cost us to do the right thing; we can choose, in this moment, whether or not we step up and fight against the detention of undocumented migrants, whether we resist ICE, whether we advocate for refugees. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves. 

#terminator dark fate #terminator #dark fate #critical race theory #neoliberalism #essay #review #spoilers #i am white #as always i wrote this in one mad go & will fix any errors as i find them #also as always pls feel free to respond & engage

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 3- Where Do We Begin?- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline moves. Ivar ignores Bjorn’s attempts to discuss the wedding.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, sex, and torture.

Word Count: 3503

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.”

~Plato

Aaline watched as the last box was carried out of what used to be her front door. She surveyed the space that was her living room and felt significantly smaller than she had a moment before. The high ceilings seemed darker now that her paintings and pillows were gone.

She had been living in the penthouse suite since she’d moved home from Oxford two years ago. It was a graduation gift from her father. He’d built the apartment complex four years before and used the penthouse as a coming home gift as well as a way to make amends for the things he hadn’t been around for. She’d had the freedom to decorate how she wanted and she used rich reds and yellows to paint the walls.

He still owned the building. Well, technically she owned it now. It was just yesterday that she met with her father to sign over the company. Hvitserk had accompanied her as the legal representation for Ragnar and her father had his own attorney present. He had tried to speak to her about matters outside of their business deal but she pointedly ignored him. Hvitserk tried to move everything along quickly but her father must’ve spoken to his lawyer before the meeting because he made things as tedious as possible.

They finally concluded their business after nearly three hours of discussion. Everything that was once owned by her father was now in her name. His shares, his buildings, his accounts, his company. Everything belonged to her. He was a member of the board in name only. He had no power over the company and any decisions that were made in its name. She agreed to give him a monthly stipend of twenty thousand dollars, five thousand a week, which was more than enough to support him. What he did with that money was his business. She would give him no more, no less. That was the only contact they would have for the rest of his life.

He tried to speak to her as they left but Hvitserk must’ve picked up on her mood and politely stepped between them as she made her way out. Ives Jensen was not easily deterred and managed to make the elevator. Hvitserk gave her an apologetic look but she ignored him. “Aaline, would you please say something?” She didn’t acknowledge him and instead watched the numbers change as they descended.

“How many times must I apologize?” Hvitserk snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough. Aaline rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re my only child. I was trying to protect you.” Aaline brought her gaze down to the reflective silver doors and looked at her father. She watched him until she heard the ding that announced their arrival. The doors were opening when she finally spoke. “You didn’t do this for me.” She didn’t wait to see it Hvitserk was following her.

She had gone back to her apartment knowing that Ragnar’s private moving company would be there in the morning to take her personal possessions back to the estate.

She had decided to leave the basic furniture in the apartment and just take her personal items. Lagertha had told her that she could stay in one of the guest rooms until the wedding. It went unspoken that she and Ivar wouldn’t be made to share a room following their wedding ceremony. She would be moving into one of the guest rooms close to Ivar’s room. She ignored the reasons for that.

The moving company arrived at eight am that morning and was surprised by the number of things she wasn’t taking with her. She told them she was renting the penthouse out so she was leaving the furniture behind. They didn’t ask any questions and began moving boxes. Torvi, Sibylle, and Thora arrived shortly after and Ubbe dropped Margrethe off on his way to work. The four women were there mainly for moral support but Aaline could see them whispering together when they thought she wasn’t looking.

It was almost ten and the movers had taken her last box. She stood with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the apartment. It felt cold now that she couldn’t see her presence in the walls anymore.

She startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and smiled at Sibylle. “The truck is loaded and ready to go. There’s a car here for us if you’d like to get brunch with us?” She phrased it as a question like she thought Aaline would say no.

Aaline had never had a lot of friends growing up but she needed to find someone to latch on to during this process. The next several months weren’t going to be easy for her and this group of women had more knowledge of this organization than she would ever hope for. She needed them not only as a line of information but as friends.

She figured out a long time ago that she didn’t do well on her own. When left to her own devices, people got hurt. She didn’t like the person that she was when she was alone. She needed people to care about, people to love. She needed a reason behind her anger and she felt that these women could be that for her. She could love them. Maybe it would lessen the blow of a loveless marriage.

She smiled and nodded, letting Sibylle lead her out the door. Aaline balked when she saw that they were riding in a limousine. “A limo?” She questioned. Sibylle laughed and opened the door. Torvi poked her head out of the door and smiled. “Come on you two! I’m starved!” Aaline sighed and followed Sibylle inside the car.

Thora had already opened a bottle of champagne and handed a flute to Aaline. She smiled and took a tentative sip. She saw Torvi glance at the other women before turning her body to face Aaline. She turned her eyes to the older woman and waited. She clearly had something on her mind.

“Aaline, we know this can’t be easy for you but, the four of us, we wanted you to know that we’re here for you. Whatever you need.” Aaline felt her throat get tight and swallowed several times. “I appreciate that.” She nodded and took a bigger sip of her champagne. The bubbles burned her throat but she sniffed and blinked the tears away. Torvi placed a gentle hand on her knew and Aaline had to tamp down her reflexes to pull away.

Thora leaned forward then and waited for Aaline to meet her eyes. “We know how this family can be and we’ve all struggled with something at one time or another. It’s normal to be overwhelmed in this family.” Aaline snorted and shook her head. The car was silent for several minutes. Aaline knew they were expecting her to speak but she didn’t know where to start. She swallowed thickly and opened her mouth.

“I spent most of my childhood alone. I still had the cliche dream of marrying someone that I love and having this perfect wedding. As I got older I thought about it less and less but I always thought I’d marry someone for love.” She finished her champagne and laughed humorlessly. “I guess that’s one more dream I can give up on.” The other women gave her looks of confusion but didn’t say anything.

“This might not be the best time but…” Thora started rifling through her purse and Aaline tensed when she saw a black box emerge from its depths. She looked up at Aaline and blushed at her incredulous look. She passed the velvet box to Torvi. “I know this is supposed to come from Ivar but...to say he hasn’t been receptive is an understatement so...we,” she gestured to the other women around her. Aaline looked apprehensively at the box resting in Torvi’s hands. “Decided that maybe we could do this for you. We wanted to find something elegant and simple but also stunning.”

Aaline took the box with shaky fingers and pulled it open. Inside there were two rings nestled together. One was a row of seven small teardrop diamonds arching in a clean line. The second ring was a large oval diamond on a simple gold band.

“The larger stone is the wedding ring that Iv...that you’ll get on the day of. The small stones will be your engagement ring. We figured you could wear it to all the appointments.” Thora wrung her hands together nervously as she watched Aaline stare at the rings. Aaline gently pulled the first ring out of the box and, with shaking fingers, slipped it on her ring finger. She took a deep breath and looked at it on her hand. She could almost believe that she was happy.

She closed the box on the other ring and smiled tightly at the other women. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Torvi smiled and rested her hand on Aaline’s knee. “We just want to make this transition easier for you. Ivar is difficult but he’s not all bad.” Margrethe snorted into her champagne flute and Aaline turned accusing eyes towards her. The other women didn’t seem to think too much of the outburst either. “Margrethe.” Sibylle scolded. Margrethe just tilted her head and kept her mouth shut.

Aaline may have had her own opinions about Ivar but for someone else to blatantly insult him when he wasn’t there rankled her.

One of her biggest irritants was people who talked badly about others behind their backs. She felt that honesty was the best way to go through life and for Margrethe to overtly display her dislike for Ivar in front of Aaline was bold.

Sibylle turned back to Aaline. “Ivar is a complicated man. There are many layers to him.” Aaline nodded and looked out the window. She watched as the buildings passed by.

Everything was a blur. She prided herself on her ability to get through tough situations. This situation, however, had no end in sight. She was going to have to spend the rest of her life with Ivar Lothbrok. At least the rest of her father’s life. She couldn’t imagine Ragnar would take to kindly to her divorcing his son during her father’s lifetime. Probably ever, if she was honest with herself.

She drew her eyebrows together when they passed the exit for the estate. She turned to look at the other women and none of them would meet her eyes. Sibylle looked guilty and Aaline felt a ball of dread grow in her stomach. “We passed the exit for the house.” She said. Torvi glanced at her sisters and, when none of them made a move to speak, she cleared her throat.

“Ragnar’s men know what to do. Lagertha is going to make sure everything gets where it needs to go. We need to start wedding preparations.” Aaline never wished more for a mother. She would have a confidant who could field these situations. Someone she knew that she could lean on right now.

The Lothbrok women were wonderful. They’d been very welcoming and were working hard to make things easy on her but, in the end, she didn’t know them. They were strangers who were loyal to their husbands. They had no ties to her other than the fact that she would one day be a part of their family. They owed her nothing.

Aaline sighed heavily and looked up at Torvi. She’d pulled out an iPad and was scrolling through it. She looked up when she heard Aaline sigh. She smiled and it was filled with pity. Aaline felt the irritation rising in her chest but she held her tongue. Of course, Torvi would pity her. She was marrying her brother-in-law whose reputation was widely regarded as difficult and violent. Anyone would pity her.

She took a deep breath and tried to smile. She was sure it looked more like a grimace. “What’s first?”

.

The gun jerked in his hands and he lowered it when he knew the clip was empty. He narrowed his eyes when the target came towards him. He tugged the headphones from his ears and draped them around his neck. He smiled when he saw the holes spaced close together at the head and chest. He tugged it down and set it aside, putting up another target. He shoved a fresh clip into his gun and took aim.

He lowered his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and sneered at Ubbe. His brother simply smiled and jerked his head over to the side. Ivar cleared his chamber and engaged the safety, slipping the piece back into its holster at the small of his back. He followed Ubbe towards the rest of his brothers at the entrance of the range.

Björn was finishing his conversation on the phone while Hvitserk and Sigurd spoke in hushed voices nearby. Hvitserk nodded to them as they approached and Ivar heard Björn say goodbye and hang up. He turned and looked up at them, sighing heavily. His shoulders were tense and Ivar could see the lines of tension by his mouth and eyes. He gestured his brothers closer and they huddled in a tight circle.

“That was Lagertha. They discovered which dock was hit.” Bjorn took a deep breath like he was bracing himself. “It was Kattegat.”

Ivar sucked in a sharp breath. Kattegat was their busiest, legal shipping dock. Both foreign and domestic trade come out of the dock. The hit this would bring to their organization, both legal and illegal, would be great.

The night that Ivar and Aaline met, the damage to the dock was what pulled Ragnar away from the meeting. Ragnar had gotten a call that there was smoke coming from one of the warehouses that was on the dock. By the time Ragnar and Lagertha had arrived, dozens of shipping containers were burning and billows of smoke were rising up over the dock.

“The damage has been tallied and we lost three million dollars worth of foreign goods and, roughly, two million worth of domestic product.” Ubbe cursed and Ivar watched Björn rub at his temples. “Do we know who’s responsible?” Hvitserk asked. Björn looked up and nodded, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Aelle, the head of the Northumbria chapter of The Saxons.” Ivar tensed and felt the heat rise up in his face.

Ever since his mother died the relationship between The Northmen and The Saxon’s had been shaky at best. Ecbert and Aelle claimed they knew nothing of Aslaug’s death but Ivar didn’t trust a Saxon as far as he could throw them. Aelle and Ecbert had made a deal with Ragnar before Aslaug’s death and the grounds it stood on had been precarious from the start. As soon as Aslaug died, any trust or deals between the two groups disintegrated and any hope of them finding new common ground died with Aslaug.

“How do we know it was Aelle?” Ubbe asked. Björn opened his phone and scrolled through it. Ivar saw him open up his pictures and pull up the most recent shot. He turned it around and showed his brothers. Ivar felt his blood rush and his fingers tingle. The adrenaline that raced through his veins was intoxicating. A vindictive smile graced his face and he moved the phone closer to his face.

It was of a man. An older man with dark hair and a dark beard. He was sitting on the ground with his hands behind his back. His eyes were filled with a scornful fire and his upper lip was pulled up in a snarl. There was blood and dirt on his face and neck and Ivar could see other dead Saxon’s strewn behind him. He had the same eyes as Aelle.

“Aethelwulf?” Hvitserk asked as he took the phone from Björn and held it between him and Sigurd. “Did he organize it?” Björn snorted and shook his head, taking his phone back. “Of course not. Aelle’s the brains behind everything. This was his idea. Aethelwulf has always done his brother’s bidding. He reaps the benefits without any of the fallout.”

Ivar licked his lips. “Now he’s ours.” Bjorn nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “We’re holding him at Hedeby until Ragnar decides what to do with him.” Bjorn jerked his head towards Ivar. “We need to talk about your wedding.” Ivar scowled and pulled his headphones back over his ears. He turned towards the range but jerked back when someone pulled his headphones from his head.

“Don’t touch me.” He snarled. Ubbe held his hands up, Ivar’s headphones clenched in his first. “It’s unavoidable, Ivar. There are things we need to discuss.” Björn continued. Ivar turned his back on his oldest brother and pulled his gun from its holster. “There’s nothing to discuss, brother.”

He turned to face Björn, his gun aimed at the target. “The women are handling it. I’ll be there on the day of, like the good son I am.” He sneered and fired one shot. “Then, I’ll take her, like the good husband that I am.” He fired another shot, never breaking eye contact with Björn. “Whether she’s alive the next morning, well…” He shrugged and turned back to the target, emptying his clip.

Björn scoffed and stalked up to Ivar. He stood in front of him, chest to chest, and spoke. “You won’t kill her. Do you know why? Because father has arranged this deal with her father. We benefit greatly from this deal. We get money, property, shares, and land. That’s more than what we would’ve gotten had Ragnar just killed her father and been done with it.

“As much as this pisses you off, you know as much I as I do that this is a good arrangement. You have her file. Why don’t you read it? Maybe you’ll learn something about her that you actually like.” Ivar glared up at his oldest brother.

Ivar loved all his brothers, he did, but he hardly ever liked them. Björn was the golden boy. He did everything Ragnar ever wanted or expected him to do. He figured it came with being the oldest and losing his sister at a young age. Björn never wanted to disappoint Ragnar and made it is own personal mission that the rest of them didn’t either.

Ivar had no plans to kill his future wife. He liked the color it brought to Björn’s face when he threatened to but he knew how important this business deal was for his father. He would marry her, like the dutiful son he was, no matter how angry this lack of free will made him. They would be married in name only. If Ragnar wanted grandchildren, he would have to look to the other four sons that the gods had gifted him for a blessing like that.

“I don’t think you’re nearly as angry about this as she is,” Hvitserk interjected. Ivar and Björn both turned to look at him.

Hvitserk smiled and shrugged. “Out of all of us, I’ve spent the most time with her thus far. I had to spend three hours in a room with her and her father to legalize the transfer of all of his assets in her name. She wouldn’t even look at him.”

Ivar quirked an eyebrow. He could admit to himself that he was angry with his father but they had a relationship built on much more than their business ventures. Ragnar loved all of his sons and always tried to do what was best for them. He had never been wrong and Ivar, begrudgingly, admitted to himself that Ragnar was probably right in his assumption that this marriage would be good for them.

He had spent very little time with his fiance to know her true feelings on the subject.

Hvitserk continued. “His lawyer kept trying to extend the meeting to include some rather ridiculous clauses and legal options but she was having none of it. Her father managed to slip onto the same elevator as us and kept trying to talk to her. The only thing she ever said to him was a response to his plea that he was trying to protect her.” Hvitserk snorted and shook his head. “She said, ‘You didn’t do this for me.’ and then walked out.”

Ivar digested that information. He may not have been happy with the arrangement but at least he knew that Ragnar would never put himself before his children. Ragnar had always made sure to tell his sons that he would die for them and nearly had on more than one occasion. In the case of his fiance, however, it looked like her father was willing to throw her to the proverbial wolves to keep his head on his shoulders.

#ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #bjorn ironside #bjorn x torvi #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe x margrethe #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x thora #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd x oc #ragnar lothbrok #lagertha #vikings #modern au #crime #mafia au #arranged marriage #slow burn #come and lay the roses

[ayakashiramblings]

If you came out - Dawn Faction

In celebration of Pride month (that is about to end and I lost track of everything because of work, ughh...), this is dedicated to everyone who wants to love! 

Disclaimer though: I am a straight, cis girl so while I can write this based on my friend’s opinions, I won’t be able to fully capture the whole scope of being in the LGBTQ+ community. I am also a bad writer by nature, LOL. That said, if I have written anything harmful, please let me know so that I can correct it. 

Also, this is technically in the Taisho era so like... I don’t know the history of Japan well enough. Plus, I can’t cover the whole spectrum here, I was hoping to do more with the other groups after gauging the reception here, LMAO.

Finally, Yura sucks for being too perfect.

Koga Kitamikado 

His sweetheart is bisexual. And by the way? Very scared of telling him.

She has been dumped faster than burning coal all because it seems like MC would cheat with not just one but two other parties.

AND has also been hurled with accusations of not making up her mind and stringing people along so easily without a hint of remorse.

But he’s the second-most supportive man here. (We’ll get to the first later)

You, ever-the-intellectual knowing that, hit it for Russia when you thought you saw your ex-girlfriend and Koga turned his back on you for 10 seconds to tend to Masanobu’s new watch chain. 

Fear does crazy things.

He and Kuya found you in 27 minutes, sobbing into an empty tub of ice-cream you stole from the tengu as your only food supply and frankly, the only item you brought along.

Even Kuya found it pathetic enough to leave you and Koga alone at the random bar.

Everything was pounding. Your head, people taking shots, and leaving with the resounding slam of the doors. 

Again, and again, and again.

Yet, Koga was still there, letting you nurse your head against his burly shoulders and stroking your hair away from your face to look you in your bloodshot eyes.

His steady gaze returned some semblance of composure to your drunken mind.

"It's always been hard to look away from you... especially if I think you are troubled by something or someone."

Yup, that’s right. He has had his suspicions.

“Are youz gonna break up witz me...?”

“HELL NO!”

Ok so his calm mien was finally broken by that whispered question and his Japanese bellow had certainly garnered attention until he glared at the other patrons.

His control only returned when he said this.

“If they didn’t love you being bisexual, they didn’t love you. Period.”

... This is the first time you have ever heard of the term. Heck, you had always been too shy to ask Ginnojo for books on the topic but WOW KOGA KNEW? HOW?

You didn’t even know if that was the right term, how the heck did he even find it in the Taisho era of all eras?!

Boy was fully prepared to smother you with all his affections with just the hint that you haven’t been properly cared for.

“Lady Luck was on your side so many times. But here’s the thing; I knew you could love and have loved people. Not sides.”

“I would like to be on your side and your loved one now, in the next 1000 years and beyond.”

That night, you had celebrated coming out and being strong with the strongest man, vodka and of course, hangover in your life.

Kuya

Trans male who actually sees Kuya making an effort beyond wraith-fighting.

You lucky boy! He is a bit confused at first but not dismissive. Anything involving you and your happiness is serious business to him. 

Takes some time getting used to the shift in pronouns, but the one in 2892019280923092 chances that he messes up, he will always apologize with ordering whatever you want from the Milk Hall.

Now you wished he would mess up more. 

When he is too lazy to buy paper, he just writes on whatever scars you have from your gender reassignment (if you go for it... wait, did they have it back then?) or the marks left from your binder that would have made you self-conscious once upon a time.

And he keeps doing it on each new mark as you slowly transition.

One day, you decided to buy the most classy paper a writer could ever hope for. One that would ensure no bleeding, feathering, and basically ‘The Dream Paper’.

All he did was give a smile and thank you before dipping a feather... and writing on the 273rd scar.

“But why?”

“I need to write the 273rd page of my boyfriend’s strength.”

Yura

You are a trans female, that has been practising her coming-out-speech on forest animals...

... that you knew would know Yura.

You were so scared about seemingly leading others on and deceiving others. Every time some discovered any secret part of yours that you had hidden, suddenly EVERYTHING was exposed.

“Oh, my lady...”

“I am ever so delighted! You came out to me first AGAIN!”

... So it turns out, your past self was also trans. And Yura had been the proudest friend you had confided in first.

His part is so short because guess what? He is a perfect man. I seriously don’t think you would need to worry about him.

We just need him to be our boyfriend soon!!!

Ginnojo

Asexual acing everything but sitting down with the bae and talking about it. 

Not that you have to, only if you are comfortable. 

And you were super comfortable honestly. Maybe the whole quiet patrol at the park had lured you into a false sense of security.

... Into giggling at poor Ginnojo blushing at some shameless couples. 

Seems like the birds, the bees and make-out sessions were in season. 

“Can we agree to never do that?”

“Of course.”

“Like, ever? Like forever never?”

“Er, yes?”

“Like really no smashing of bodies also?”

“.... No? Wait, why are you asking? Come, let’s sit over there.”

This is probably the most Ginnojo has ever talked but you are so ecstatic that he can take it all in and without you feeling flustered over the occasional ramblings mixed in with serious explanations. 

Checks the boundaries established like the following;

If you don’t mind him occasionally finding you sexually attractive, especially considering you are one of the few women he interacts.

Promises on telling when to stop.

Getting sexual relief from outsiders (No surprise that he shoots the whole premise down. Ginnojo without you, it wouldn’t be him to the ayakashi)

Kisses and the art of cuddling.

Ultimately though, he just needs 2 things and that would be enough. 

“I want to love you like a book. Let me hold the pages and move with you when your story tells me to until the end.”

“And in return, I’ll share my cover with you to spread around any corner of the world you want.”

Aoi

Lesbian that chose to come out to the right ayakashi... but at the worst place possible.

To be fair, you had tried your best in luring him to sketch at a discrete, isolated place.

You had even pictured the scenario, which later turned to be a screenplay of all the disasters and worst reactions that could arise from the even the simplest, vaguest confessions.

Had Aoi known of this whole script, he would have probably said it was the writing Kuya could only dream about having.

It’s just that the Golden Week makes the Milk Hall super packed for once.

So there you were, with the milkshake that should have brought an annoyed satori seer over and scolding you for remaining with the probably-spoiled drink.

And everything snaps. His pen snaps, your straw snaps, you snap.

“What, I’m a spoilt milk bottle because I’m swinging the cap the other way? HUH?!”

By some miracle, Oji was too busy flirting with the onslaught of female customers and the aforementioned group was too preoccupied with giggling at that dork.

Aoi had heard everything though. You knew he had heard everything... so why wasn’t he responding?

Then you heard it, the girliest of giggles.

And the sweetest grin you have seen in the world.

Again, you couldn't blame Koga for mistaking him for a cute girl cus dayum...

Loving a man or woman, his tsundere mind and mouth finally cooperate to say the exact same thing.

That you are a lovable dork who had been the very muse for the painting he has been slogging over.

A whole triptych.

The first one was of you at the river, grabbing the rock to seemingly skip across the water. It was undeniably warm and set at dusk. So the transition to the next frame was jarring but somehow familiar.

The second depicted you walking away with the random stone, and being largely ignored by others and nearly engulfed in the darkness between you and the rest of the crowd.

And finally the last was someone's hand sharing the stone with yours. Curiously, it was only inked and without any palette.

“The only thing they all need is your colours, whatever you have chosen and wanted. I want to see them when you want to show me her.”

And you did, spending his 1-hour break just using all the paint supplies that you could find together.

#koga kitamikado #ayakashi romance reborn #arr #kuya #aoi #ginnojo #voltage inc #ayakashi: romance reborn #lgbtq #yura

[supersoldierfreak]

Devotee

Slowly making my way through requests after a long writing hiatus......

Request: Hi Phee!! I’ve read all your fics and they’re so goooddddd! I was wondering if you could do a con-artist!reader x bucky where he knows her before joining with the avengers and he calls her (unbeknownst to the Avengers) and she turns up and stuff?? 

Whoop, so here we go I’ll be trying to make my way through the list over the next couple of days and I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long and this has taken so long to get written :( xx

Masterlist

“The painting ‘Starry Night Over The Rhone’ has been stolen in transit from the Musee d’Orsay in Paris to The Metropolitan Museum of Art here in New York.”

Stark scoffed. “We’re the Avengers; why are you coming to us over art theft?”  

“Because it’s not the first theft. There have been several other high-level thefts of a similar nature and we believe they’re all related.”  Fury stared him down with his one eye. 

Steve looked up from the file in front of him. “And by similar nature you mean?”

Fury leaned off the table. “All of them have been art thefts or valuable items. Moreover, they’ve all had the same signature left at the scene.” He pulled out an item and placed it on the table before flicking his coat and walking out the door.

On the table laid an origami swan.

A man who had been silent all the way through the meeting made eye-contact with femme fatale sat opposite him before walking out the room alongside everyone else.

Later that day, Bucky Barnes sat on the bed of the room Stark had given him spinning the burner phone in his hand. Coming to a conclusion he dialed a number and waited with baited breath.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

You slipped past a businessman, sliding his wallet from his suit pocket and smirked before extracting the notes from the wallet, putting them into your own bag before doubling back and slipping the wallet back into the man’s pocket and continued down Fifth Avenue, no one any the wiser.  You had barely moved when your phone began to ring causing you to raise it to an ear, only barely glancing at the Caller ID.

“Hey Barnes, it’s been a long time since you’ve decided to show face.” Your tone was light, showing nothing was meant by the comment.

“What can I say? It’s been rather busy.” The man replied with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes. “Somehow, through magic obviously, I don’t think this is just a social call.”

“Damn doll, how could you have known; it must be the magic.”

You laughed into the phone at his sarcasm as you moved south. “How can I help?”

“Heard of the collectibles thefts going on at the moment? Well we’ve been assigned the case by Fury.”

“Wait Nick Fury as in the dead but now apparently not dead SHIELD director?”

“Yeah, but that’s not common intel so mind out. Thought the case may be of some interest to you if you wanted in, Y/N.”

“Consider my interest caught but tell them I want a 10% cut when I’m done because I already have it down to three people anyway. Are you based at the tower or some other ex-government secret base?”

Bucky laughed. “No, we’re at the tower. I’m guessing you’re on your way?”

“Make sure they’re ready for me. And tell Nat I’ve missed her.”

The line went as you ended the call, the Empire State Building and Avengers Tower coming into sight.

The doors loomed over your head as you pushed your way through the spinning door. you scanned the crowd before picking an employee. You flashed a smile onto your face bumping into the poor woman.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to! Here let me help.” You grabbed the files she had dropped on the floor with her help and as you handed them over you slid her badge off waist. “Once again miss, I’m so sorry!” Flashing an apologetic smile at her as you walked backwards to reach the gates. You scanned your new security card so the guard could buzz you through and you waited till you were out of sight in the elevator.

Scanning the card one more, the buttons became illuminated so you could choose the one you wanted. Ascending to what you knew to be the Avengers floor, you happily sipped your Starbucks drink you had acquired from reception and watched the numbers flash.

When the elevator opened with a ping you strolled out and surveyed it all. The modern design showed an open plan kitchen and living area with a large dining table to transition the two.  Various things were scattered around the place: papers, files, a gun, and a few books on the kitchen island. Bucky stood there, arms crossed looking at you amused.

“Was the Starbucks necessary?”

You looked affronted. “Absolutely.”

You opened your arms and walked towards him as he did the same, his tightly wrapping around your waist and yours swung around his neck in a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N.” He whispered.

“You too, James.” You pulled away and took a few steps around the kitchen, your hand just barely brushing over the gun on the side. “So now I’ve gone through weapon checks and reunions...”

The sound of a gun being cocked sounded behind you and you trailed off staring at James sending telepathic help signals.

James who was leaning forward on the island, smiled at the person and shook his head. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A familiar female questioned it. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes sarcastically as you turned around head down. “Well for one it would bloody hurt.”

You could see the gun lowering through your hair before the grip tightening and a loud click was audible. And again. And again. And..

“Looking for this?” You lent back on the island, armed folded, holding the missing magazine from the gun.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped ever so slightly.

“Hey Nat.” You smiled as she zoomed to embrace you in a tight hug.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not loving the fact you’re here.” Natasha took steps until she was with the rest of the team again.

“Well, mon cherie,” You moved around to lean on his shoulder in mock adoration. “Our darling soldier gave me a ring.”  

James shrugged you off with a chuckle.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, stepped forward. “Who are y-”

“Oh my god! You guys could have told me that there was a legend in the building. Y/N L/N, I am a huge fan of your work and your innate ability to piss off almost any figure of authority there is. I mean it’s truly incredible and-”

“ Mr Stark. Thank you.” A deep voice cut the billionaire off as a man dressed in purely black garments walked in, an eye-patch and all. “Avengers, this is Y/N L/N, the best con-artist in the world.”

“Hey! Alleged con-artist. They never actually proved I did any of my alleged work. Besides I’m touched; you think I’m the best?”

“You said it yourself: everybody knows you did your ‘alleged’ work but they can never tie it to you making you the best, Y/N.” Natasha interrupted as she clicked the gun magazine back into place.

“Prove it.” Sam Wilson aka The Falcon. 

You laughed. “Okay, sure. Can I borrow your wallet a second?”

He patted around his pockets only to look up and see you smirking, holding the wallet. “What? How? You haven’t even come near me?”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, Wilson, it’s rather provocative.” You raised an eyebrow and twirled the wallet in my hand before tossing it back to him.

He opened it only to see brown leather. 

“Missing these?” Your hand held his card and $65 in bills

“Yeah give ‘em back. That’s mine.” You laughed at him before sliding it along the counter to him.

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.” Although as you said this you were testing the balance of one of Barton’s knives he kept on him at all times.

Clint just stared at you entirely confused but accepted the knife gingerly when you held it for him.

“So, as your new Art theft consultant I will take the liberty of narrowing down the suspect list to three people.” You threw three folders from your bag onto the counter as Bucky stood next to you. “Yeah you have him to thank for this.”

TAGLISTS:

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[jordan202]

My Boys Drabbles: Just a Feeling (Part 3)

Hey guys, like promised here goes part three. Owen is finally face to face to with ex again. Sorry about taking so long to post it! 

Previous chapters are HERE.

My Boys Drabbles – Just a Feeling (Part Three)

“Beth. It’s really you.”

Owen took his time recovering from the shock of unexpectedly bumping into his ex-fiancé. Seeing her after all those years was already surprising enough, but to find out she now taught his youngest sons felt like his past had decided to suddenly play all kinds of tricky games with him.

Beth stood up with a dignified expression on her face that seemed much more neutral and contained than Owen could ever associate with her. And somewhere in between processing all those thoughts and impressions, his mind also registered that while he felt absolutely stunned to be facing her, the teacher on the other hand didn’t seem really that surprised to casually run into him after over a decade of not seeing each other.

When met by nothing other than a quick inspection, Owen felt compelled to break the uncomfortable silence. In the past, he’d usually had a hard time getting Beth to stop talking and not the other way around.

“I... I had no idea you were a teacher here,” he confessed looking into her eyes and trying to understand what her distant expression meant. From what he could remember, Beth had always been receptive and kind whenever they saw each other after months apart and even though everything was different now, her silence was still strange.

Owen couldn’t quite expect her to smile and excitedly greet him now, but her total lack of reaction confused him. He knew years had passed and people grew and changed, but the image he’d carried of Beth during all that time had been the one of an idealistic, excited, naive young woman who was perhaps too optimistic and too much of a dreamer for her own good. Nonetheless, despite her lack of maturity, Beth had always had a good, decent heart. So it felt odd for him to face her right now and be met with an indifferent expression rather than a smile.

“I worked in Medina Elementary. It wasn’t until very recently that I took a position here,” she explained with a more polite approach.

“That’s good,” Owen swallowed hard, unsure of what else to say. He’d never really imagined what it would be like seeing her after so many years but if he had, his mind probably would have come up with something a lot different from what he was experiencing. “I hope you like the new job.”

“I do,” Beth said matter-of-factly.

“This is a great school,” Owen added, hoping the awkwardness of their interaction wouldn’t last very long.

“Yes, it is.”

The surgeon nodded, suddenly met by the uncomfortable silence again.

“It might be just an impression, but...” his voice trailed off as he looked for the best way to phrase what was conflicting him. “I kind of have the feeling that I am completely surprised to see you but you don’t look at all that surprised to see me.”

Beth gently furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at the twins standing next to them and then back at Owen.

“The first thing I got when I arrived at school was a list with all my students,” she looked at the man standing in front of her with a dumbstruck expression, as if what he was saying made no sense. “Hunt is not a rare name but it isn’t all that common either. And really, Owen? Just look at them,” Beth added, slightly shaking her head from side to side as if she couldn’t believe he was doubting that, “did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your sons the minute I first laid eyes on them?”

Owen opened up his mouth to refute her, but after realizing Beth was right, he decided not to say anything. Of all his children, Danny and Robbie were by far the ones who resembled him the most, not only in facial features but also in physical structure and maybe even in the way they spoke.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

“Ms. Whitman, do you know my Dad?” Robbie interrupted their conversation, just as curious as his twin brother about the interaction between both adults.

“As a matter of fact, I do, Robbie,” Beth turned her head to face the child and her expression softened immediately, going from neutral to warm and receptive. “We met a long time ago, before you were even born.”

“Really?” Danny’s eyes widened with curiosity as he entered the conversation.

“Yes, but today your Dad is here for our meeting and he wants to hear about the two of you,” the teacher sneakily changed the focus of the conversation, knowing that as the normal six-year-olds Danny and Robbie were, they would definitely want to talk about themselves if offered a chance. “Is their mother joining us or can we start?” she asked with her best professional tone as she turned her head from the boys to their father.

“Uh, she can’t make it,” Owen replied, still disconcerted by the way Beth’s expressions would quickly change depending on whether she was talking to the kids or facing him. “She is stuck at work, so...”

“It’s alright,” Beth assured him with practicality. “I just want to update you on Danny’s and Robbie’s progress over the last trimester. We’ve had a remarkable...”

As his ex-fiancé and current sons’ teacher went on to give him a full report on how the twins were adapting to the transition from kindergarten to first grade, a much more impartial topic, Owen slowly made himself more at ease. Since he’d been caught so off guard, it had been hard at first to process anything out of that surprising encounter.

It was true that in the past he and Beth hadn’t had the easiest breakup. In fact, now he thought about it, the trauma surgeon became well aware that he’d probably been a real jerk to her at the time they had parted ways.

Not only had he taken too long to let Beth know he didn’t reciprocate her feelings and wishes, Owen had also failed to inform her he’d been back from a war zone once he made it to Seattle, even though deep down he knew she was deeply worried about him, to the point of praying for his well-being every night. Owen knew that the reason why he’d done it was because back then, he’d been caught up with a lot more than he could handle, including a serious mental condition. It had been easier to simply sweep his dirt under the rug and pretend he could start over with a clean slate rather than having to deal with what had actually happened to him.

Life had put Cristina Yang on his way and coincidence or not, she was exactly what he wanted but didn’t need in a woman at the time. Unlike Beth, Cristina was very comfortable with not knowing details and not asking any questions. And his unwillingness to face what happened to him in Iraq had been one of the reasons Owen had avoided Beth upon his return.

Even though he knew he wasn’t in love with her anymore, after their breakup Owen was pretty sure that she would have done everything within her power to try and help him if she so much as thought he was that damaged from the war. She would probably want to salvage their relationship too. The only problem at the time was that Owen wasn’t open to receiving that kind of help.

Or perhaps deep down he had a feeling that Beth was never meant to be the one with whom he could share his pain and trust his heart. Owen supposed that was true because now that he was older, had lived through things and knew better, he was sure that back then he couldn’t have connected to anyone else in the way he connected to his wife now, regardless of what he’d lived or been through at the time. It wasn’t so much about the experiences but rather how comfortable he felt to share with a particular person or not.

As Owen’s mind drifted back and forth in thoughts about the past and present, Beth’s voice broke the silence.

“So... we are done here, I guess,” she wrapped the conversation with a smile, playfully giving Danny an affectionate squeeze on his belly that made the boy chuckle and look at her with adoration in his eyes. “Can you boys please go pick up your backpacks and get the crayons you used back in the proper box? We want to keep the room tidy for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ms. Whitman,” Robbie and Danny replied in unison.

Owen waited until the kids were out of their hearing range after noticing how Beth remained still, watching from a distance as his sons strictly followed her instructions.

“So...” Owen put both his hands in his pant pockets, drawing her attention with his voice. “You’re still excellent with kids, I see,” he commented awkwardly, unsure of how she would react at his attempt at small talk. Even though it had been years, Owen still felt awful about the way he had treated her, mostly because he had never really apologized for it. “Not that it surprises me, of course,” Owen added. “How many do you have now? Five, six?” he asked with a lighthearted tone, knowing that just like him, Beth had always wanted a big family.

Owen could swear he identified a trace of sadness in her gaze as she turned her head at him to reply.

“Eighteen,” she shrugged, apparently trying to look like she was okay with the joke but Owen knew her well enough to see that the question – and mostly the answer – bothered her.

The trauma surgeon quickly understood that eighteen was the number of children in his sons’ first grade class. And if Beth had given that as a reply, apparently regarding her beloved students as her children, it could only mean she didn’t have any kids of her own.

The realization took Owen by surprise but he didn’t have the courage to ask why she had changed her plans – or maybe why they had failed to happen? It was probably not his place to ask, anyway.

“Danny and Robbie talk about their siblings all the time,” Beth commented as she crouched down to pick up a pencil from the floor, making Owen wonder how she’d even spotted the object underneath a student’s desk in the first place. “Just yesterday they were talking about how you were flying kites with them over the weekend… They are obviously happy kids,” Beth gazed at the boys from a distance with a lingering smile. Owen saw the contrast between that and the shadow of sadness he could swear she was trying hard to conceal. “You got the whole package, didn’t you?” the teacher asked as she got up with the pencil in hand at the same time a gloomy shadow darkened her usually lively eyes. “Not that I am surprised, it is what you always wanted, I guess… What we both did.”

“Beth...”

“No, Owen, don’t,” Beth interrupted him before the surgeon could even start. She could precisely predict what he was about to do, and after taking years to recover from their unilateral decision to end their engagement, she wasn’t interested in hearing what he had to say anymore.

“I know we have both moved on and it probably doesn’t matter anymore… What’s in the past is in the past,” Owen repeated the sentence he seemed to be telling himself quite a lot lately. “But I’d just like to apologize for the way things ended between us,” he added the most considerately and kindly he could.

A daunting silence followed and Owen noticed as the face of the woman standing in front of him went through many transformations.

First she seemed surprised. Then confused. And finally, really angry.

“That’s it?” Beth scoffed, suddenly neglecting every progress she’d made in her journey to be resolved about her past. For a long time, she had tried every method possible for moving on: therapy, sports, yoga. Many years before she had finally convinced herself that she was over the heartbreak and if faced with Owen once again in her life, she would be able to simply ignore him because he couldn’t affect her anymore. Well, how wrong had she been, apparently. “You break up with me through an email, come back from the war and don’t say anything, then you get a job, start a relationship with someone else… And as if that’s not enough, you tell me to my face that my dad has cancer and walk away…” Beth summoned up the events from her perspective. “Years later that’s what I get?” for the first time that day, Owen could see a reaction on her face that seemed spontaneous instead of rehearsed whenever she looked at him. “A simple, generic apology? Are you actually serious?”

“Beth...” Owen took a long breath, suddenly regretting having gone there. He should have kept his mouth shut but something about his uncontrollable urge to come to terms with the people he’d let down had prompted him to say it.

“No,” she backed out raising her voice, for a moment forgetting they were inside a classroom and that she was at her workplace, in the company of two of her students. “Do you have any idea the pain you put me through that day?” the trauma surgeon didn’t have to ask her to know she was talking about the last time they’d seen each other. “You made me lose my ground, Owen,” her voice broke down a little as Beth struggled to contain her tears. “My ground!” she insisted, thinking back about how at the same time she had lost the man she had considered to be the love of her life and her father, the only parent she had. “I didn’t get a chance to take care of my dad because he didn’t tell me about it and I couldn’t take care of you either because you walked away. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to lose the two of you in the same month?”

“I...” Owen struggled with his words. It was the first time he was being confronted with that part of his past and when she put it like that, he couldn’t help feeling guiltier. “I was going through some stuff at the time and I didn’t realize what I was doing. I am sorry,” Owen replied in a lower tone, trying to keep their voices down not to draw attention from the boys who were already frowning as they collected crayons across the room and noticed how worked up their teacher seemed to be. “I get it if you can’t understand it and I respect it,” Owen said with honesty, feeling even worse for how he’d failed her. “I know it must be really painful for you to come here and have to teach my children after everything I put you through, so I also want you to know that I really appreciate how good you are with them...” the surgeon said, once again taking a peek at the boys. “And how much of a bigger person you are not to let our past interfere in the way you treat them.”

The teacher took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking her time to open them again. It became obvious she was struggling to keep herself together and Owen censored himself for bringing up the subject.

“Owen...” Beth’s voice sounded hoarse as she tilted her head and looked at him, looking almost offended. “Danny and Robbie are wonderful kids and they have nothing to do with what happened between us,” she enforced, looking at them as she swallowed hard. Those boys and their stunning resemblance with the man she had built her dreams with once were a daily reminder of her failed past and everything Beth had set to accomplish but never did. “As you said, what’s in the past is in the past. Let’s just leave it there.”

“I really didn’t mean to make your life such a nightmare...” Owen said with a guilty conscience. At the time, it hadn’t been so obvious because he had been too caught up with his own traumas. But now, it made him feel extremely remorseful to realize that not only he’d broken Beth’s heart by leaving her, but he’d also done it around the same time he’d given her the worst news of her life after bluntly letting her know her father had cancer. At the time, Owen had grown sick of everyone hiding everything from her and he’d thought that she would be better off with the truth, no matter how hard it was.

So he’d disclosed to his ex-fiancé in the hospital waiting area that unbeknownst to her, her father had been battling cancer for a while now. And then Owen had walked out to never see Beth again until today.

By the time the older man had died, Beth had lost not one, but the two most important people in her life: her father and her fiancé.

The teacher was just about to once again suggest they dropped the subject when the twins finally came from across the room carrying their backpacks, silencing the adults’ apologies and once for all putting an end to that unexpectedly raw conversation.  

.

On the short drive home, even though they had stopped to pick up the other kids, Owen was worried he might have to deal with a series of questions from the twins as to how he knew their teacher, but to his luck, they were too distracted with their siblings to bring up the subject.

But hours later though, by the time his wife got home, Danny didn’t waste any time sharing with his mother the news he’d learned earlier that day.

“How was everything with the school meeting?” Amelia asked at the same time she dropped her handbag on the counter, took off her jacket and approached the kids, giving them each a kiss on the head. “Did you meet the popular Ms. Whitman?” she asked with good mood as she looked up to meet her husband’s eyes.

Before Owen could reply, Danny intervened.

“She and Dad already knew each other, Mom,” the boy repeated what he’d learned earlier that day with a proud smile to be breaking the news, succeeding in getting his mother’s attention. “Ms. Whitman said she knew my dad from before I was even born!” he added with widened eyes, as if his father having a life prior to his birth was already shocking enough.

Amelia took in the information and looked back at her husband, using a confused expression rather than words to ask him to elaborate Danny’s revelation.

“I was going to tell you but Dan obviously beat me to it,” Owen said with a playful eye roll, knowing he really meant it. “I was surprised to find out like this, but it turns out the twins’ substitute teacher is Beth,” he unconsciously raised his eyebrows, expecting her response apprehensively as he whispered in addition, “as in, Beth Whitman. The woman I was engaged to before moving back here for good.”

As anticipated, Amelia was also taken by surprise with the information.

“Your ex-fiancé is their teacher?” she asked, thinking about the woman she’d heard about only a few times but never really met. Amelia looked at her husband almost apologetically, thinking about the couple of occasions in which she’d joked about the teacher’s manners and she talked like one of her students. “Is it the one you were going to marry when you were serving in Iraq?” she asked whispering back, unwilling to be heard from the kids considering she had no idea how much they had indeed been told.

“That one,” Owen replied tensely as he watched the twins go back to the toys they had been playing with prior to their mother’s arrival.

Over the years, Owen had shared so many of the most intimate things about his life and his past with his wife that he liked to think there wasn’t anything they couldn’t talk about. Surely some things were more difficult to discuss than others, and some topics Owen would much rather avoid if it could be helped, for various reasons.

It so happened that he wasn’t the least bit proud of the way he’d treated Beth in the past and talking about her only made Owen feel exposed in the worst way possible to perhaps the only person whose good opinion of him really mattered. So it was probably for the best not to dwell on that subject.  

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, mistaking his reservation for discomfort. Owen had been acting a little quieter than usual lately and she was starting to wonder if something was indeed off with him.  “Did something happen?”

“No, it was just weird, that’s all,” Owen shook his head in denial, unwilling to stay trapped in his thoughts. “It’s past eight thirty already, I’ll get the kids upstairs to start their bedtime,” he proposed, crossing the distance between himself and his wife and giving her a kiss on the forehead. He’d already had dinner with the kids but had been waiting with them so that they could see Amelia for a while before going to sleep since she was working late that day. “There is a plate for you in the oven if you’re hungry.”

“I am starved,” Amelia confessed, already making her way to the kitchen. “I will catch up with you guys soon.”

The neurosurgeon had dinner and a shower at the same time Owen got the kids ready to bed. She then tucked Megan in, which didn’t take five minutes, and later spent nearly half an hour with Thomas lying on his bed as they read together until he finally fell asleep.

After giving the boy a kiss goodnight, Amelia proceeded to Lucas’ room. She made him promise he would turn off the TV after the anime he was watching was over and also got a hug and a kiss before finally turning off the lights in that bedroom.

That only left the twins’ room to go check and Amelia expected to find both boys already asleep. Nonetheless, she would go in to give them the kiss goodnight she always gave all her children.

To her surprise, she found out the bedside lamp was on and Owen was sitting between the children’s beds on a tiny stool that made him look even bigger than he already was. Even though he had his back turned to her, Amelia could tell he was reading the boys a bedtime story and she couldn’t help but stand against the doorframe and watch the scene from a distance with a smile on her face.

“Dad,” Danny’s voice echoed in the room as he contained a yawn right when his father finished reading a chapter of the story. “Did you misbehave?” he asked very seriously, but at the same time Owen noticed his son was looking at him with an empathetic, forgiving glance.

“Did I what?” Owen tilted his head to the side as he gently spoke back, confused by what Danny really meant.

“He meant when Ms. Whitman was your teacher,” Robbie offered some explanation to what was going on in the twins’ minds. “Were you in timeout a lot?”

Amelia had to contain a chuckle from where she was standing.

“No, buddy, that’s not what happened,” Owen calmly explained, smiling at the boys’ logic. “She is not old enough to have been my teacher. I knew her from before because she used to be my friend.”

Since Danny had asked if he’d misbehaved, it didn’t go unnoticed to Owen that the boys had assumed their teacher for some reason disapproved of their father. The additional question about him being sent to timeout corroborated that. They had probably picked up the animosity in the air, despite the adults’ effort to tone it down as much as they could. It made sense that the six year olds had related Beth’s attitude with misbehavior, the likely most common cause for the kids in their class to get frowned upon by their teacher.

Well, they weren’t totally in the wrong, Owen had to admit. Except that his past with Beth was more complicated than talking during class or forgetting to hand in his homework. It was true that he was going through the worst moment of his life at the time everything had happened but it didn’t make Owen feel any less awful for realizing now the pain she’d had to endure, something that at the time he couldn’t see very clearly exactly because of his own traumas.

“She’s not your friend anymore?” Danny asked with confusion and a glimpse of disappointment.

“I haven’t seen her in a long time,” Owen replied evasively. The details were too difficult to try to explain to two kids. “But what makes you think Dad might have misbehaved?” he asked Danny with a patient smile, leaning over to pull the covers on his son.

Owen noticed how the twins looked at each other, as if communicating in their own secret language before Robbie opened his mouth to answer the question that had been directed at his brother.

“Ms. Whitman seemed upset,” Robbie confessed, confirming Owen’s theory. “It was like…” the six-year-old hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “It was like Amanda when I told her that I can take care of Casper much better than she can,” the boy explained, referring to their class’s goldfish. “She can’t even reach the bottom of his tank, Dad,” he added, as if the argument absolutely proved his point.

“And Amanda was upset about what you said?” Owen raised his eyebrows with amusement, correctly supposing their sons were talking about a fellow first grader.

“She was! She didn’t want the strawberries mom put in my lunch box even though I said I would share them with her!” Robbie confided with outrage at what he apparently considered a big offense.

“I see,” Owen smiled at the dynamics of two six-year-olds innocently trying to socialize. “Maybe she just doesn’t like strawberries. How about you offer her some other kind of fruit next time?” he proposed with a playful smile. “Or even better, when grandma bakes a batch of chocolate brownies, maybe you can pack a big slice and take it to school for Amanda?”

“That’s a perfect idea, dad,” Robbie cheerfully agreed. “I bet she is going to love it!” he said with confidence. Everyone loved his grandma’s brownies.

“Maybe you can take some to Ms. Whitman too, Dad!” Danny promptly intervened, sharing his brother’s impression. “Maybe then she will like you again!”

Owen frowned, pensively. Apparently, he had reached the perfect conclusion by assuming the boys had picked up on some animosity in the air and figured that their teacher wasn’t all too pleased with their father.

“Ms. Whitman and I didn’t have a fight, Dan,” Owen said assuredly even though it wasn’t entirely true. “The only thing is that I hadn’t seen Ms. Whitman in many, many years,” he explained as he closed the book and placed it on the nightstand next to the lamp. “But it doesn’t change the fact she was a wonderful friend, and I know she is a wonderful teacher so I am glad you guys have her this year,” the surgeon added with a smile, knowing that his approval would mean a lot to the boys. Danny and Robbie liked the teacher very much and to have them so much as think their father might see her differently could conflict their heads. Owen was determined not to let that happen because his kids had nothing to do with his past and shouldn’t pay the price for his mistakes. “It’s late now, close your eyes, buddy,” he said, ruffling Robbie’s hair affectionately before pulling the covers to tighten them around his body.

Amelia chose that moment to make her presence noted and it was with smiles that she was welcomed in the room. After staying with the twins until they fell asleep, she was escorted by her husband back to the hallway.

“I am so tired I had to give my everything to resist calling it a night and just crashing on Danny’s bed with him,” Amelia confessed with a playful grin, putting both arms around herself and rubbing them to fight off the cold and exhaustion.

“Was your shift that bad? I thought you would come home after the surgery you paged me to,” Owen confessed with an understanding glance, pulling the covers on her side of the bed first so she could crawl in. After he got a positive nod in response and realized Amelia was too exhausted to elaborate an answer, he added, “I was kind of hoping we could start that show about the hostages trapped on an island on Netflix tonight,” he joined her in bed. Unlike his wife, Owen didn’t feel the least inclined to fall asleep. It had been happening quite often lately.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Amelia agreed with a yawn. “I actually should start drafting the paper for my new research but, nope, not gonna happen.”

“If I put on the show, you’re going to fall asleep five minutes into it,” Owen shook his head with playful disapproval as he turned on the TV with the remote anyway. After returning the object to his nightstand, he used his arm to capture his wife by the waist and pull her closer.

Amelia didn’t protest but rather sought the warmth of his embrace. She’d had a really long day with back-to-back surgeries and a lot of unexpected bureaucracy to deal within her department. The following days promised to be just as busy as she once again planned a new and complicated research within her department but at least for now she could enjoy the comfort of her husband’s familiar embrace and relax while he gently stroked her hair as she lay against him with her eyes closed hearing the sound of the TV on the background.

The neurosurgeon was nearly asleep when something her husband had said earlier that night came to her memory and she suddenly couldn’t put her mind at ease again.

“What was weird?”

Owen seemed very confused by her blunt question and Amelia instantly figured out that she hadn’t explained herself very well.

“When I arrived from work today… You said that running into your ex and finding out she is teaching Robbie and Danny was weird,” Amelia reminded him, slightly rolling her head to the side and opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Why would you think that? It’s not a word you use very often.”

Owen seemed to think for a while before he opened his mouth to reply.

“I meant to say I didn’t see it coming, I guess,” he said with a low, patient tone of voice while looking straight into his wife’s eyes. Amelia still felt his fingers gently caressing her hair and that combined with the sincerity in his gaze as he maintained eye contact with her made her sure that Owen was being honest. “It just took me by surprise… I hadn’t seen her or heard from her in years.”

Amelia took her time processing his answer. It made absolute sense that Owen would be surprised with the news. But somehow, there seemed to be more to it. As if he wasn’t only surprised, but also shocked and intrigued.

“You don’t talk much about her,” Amelia mentioned the most casually she could. Robbie and Danny had obviously gotten the impression that their teacher was upset with their father, even though he’d denied it. Amelia could only wonder what that meant.  “I mean, you never really told me what happened between the two of you.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Owen said, hoping it wasn’t too obvious he was avoiding going deeper into that conversation or else it would only raise a flag for Amelia to ask further questions. He didn’t want to go into the subject because deep down, it ashamed him to admit to his wife how he’d treated his ex-fiancé in the past. Even though Owen supposed he had to cut himself some slack considering how unwell he’d been at the time, he still couldn’t come to terms with his realizations from that day. “We met when we really young and as we grew older, I got wiser and eventually I realized that she wasn’t the right woman for me, so we broke up,” he summed up, hoping Amelia’s tiredness would prevent her from asking further details.

Owen should suspect he wasn’t going to get away so easily, though.

“Why?” Amelia moved in his arms and gently turned her head up to maintain their eye contact. “I mean, how did you come to the conclusion she wasn’t the right one for you?”

Even though she was very serious about her question, Owen was determined to skip all those painful, unnecessary parts of his past that would probably only serve to disappoint Amelia nearly as much as he felt disappointed in himself for his past behavior.

“Because she wasn’t you,” Owen said with flattery as he possessively chucked her under the chin and stared into her eyes with a trace of playfulness before stealing a kiss from her lips.

Amelia saw right through him and his plot.

“Oh yeah?” she pretended to be on board with his game. “And are you so smart that you’ve reached that conclusion and broke up with her before you even met me?” she asked with a challenging smile.

“Exactly. I am glad you’re able to acknowledge how smart I am,” Owen brought his other hand to her face and caressed her, mesmerized by the way she looked at him and everything he saw in her eyes. “I was just killing time while waiting for you,” he added with a teasing voice.

Amelia laughed right through his exaggerated sentimentality and before she could grill him, her husband decided to share a little more.

“Okay, so… When I started dating Beth, I was this idealistic, fresh off college guy who saw the world much the same way she did,” he explained. Back then Owen hadn’t known many of the hard truths he later on had learned about life. “But then I went to war and it changed me. Beth stayed and she remained the same person. As you can see, it was only a matter of time before our perspectives collided,” he added, being as evasive as he could without being dishonest. “Especially when our relationship was already on the rocks because of the distance and everything... So that’s why it never had much of a future.”

When Owen took a deep breath and slowly let it out, Amelia wondered if she really should be pushing him to talk about that subject. She knew that even after all those years, talking about his deployments and what had happened during the time he’d been at war was still hard on her husband. If he had to relive all of those things to talk about his ex-fiancé, it was no wonder why he was avoiding the subject.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up some hard memories. I know you don’t like talking about the war,” she considerately said.

Owen gave her a doubtful sideways glance, suspicious about the intention of her last statement considering how much in the past Amelia had used her power of persuasion to get him to talk about his time in service.

“Alright, I know I grill you about it, but only when it is for your own good!” she justified her manners, getting a playful glance in response.

“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Owen commented lightheartedly, although deep down he hoped the conversation about Beth was over.

Owen didn’t have to think about it for much longer because sooner after, Amelia finally gave in to exhaustion, quickly falling asleep next to him.

Knowing he wouldn’t be as lucky as his wife to successful rest and put his mind at ease, Owen was once again confronted by memories of his past and his misdoings.

From everything he’d learned that day, he had to admit that finding out Beth apparently hadn’t gotten married or had kids was by far what had blown his mind. Her vague answer about her life at present time and indirect admission that she didn’t have any kids was still conflicting Owen. He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger either and didn’t fully understand why that got to him.

He and Beth had spent apart the majority of the time they were a couple, mostly because Owen had been deployed. But that didn’t mean Owen hadn’t gotten to truly know Beth and what moved her.

During his life, he’d met all kinds of women. Some dreamed of being doctors, some wanted to be business owners, a few had no idea what they really wanted. And Owen knew that people’s dreams and goals changed overtime. But ever since he’d known Beth, the only thing she had ever truly wanted was to be a mom. So to find out she had made it this far in life without fulfilling that dream made Owen feel strangely sad, and to some degree, even accountable.

During the time they had been together, all Beth ever talked about was getting married, having kids and being a stay at home mom. And Owen knew that dream wasn’t just something she considered for herself but rather something she felt like defined her. Kind of like an ideal she based her entire life on, according to the teacher’s own admissions. And even though Owen knew it could very well have changed over the years, based on what he’d seen earlier that day, he had a bad feeling Beth’s life aspirations hadn’t really changed at all.

But soon enough, the surgeon wondered if that perhaps he was being too arrogant and giving himself too much importance.

What did he know, really? Maybe Beth had indeed tried. For all he knew, she could have met half a dozen guys after him and moved on with her life as he honestly wished she had. Beth could have even gotten married. Just because apparently it hadn’t worked out, it didn’t mean she hadn’t tried, he told himself.

But before Owen could control it, his gut feeling told him that it probably had not been like that. Beth was very selective. She wouldn’t be jumping from guy to guy looking for a Prince Charming. And she definitely wouldn’t marry the first guy that came along considering how much of a romantic, idealistic girl she had always been.

Up until now, Owen had never really given any thought about how much he’d affected Beth’s life by breaking up with her and leaving her alone to deal with her dying father. Maybe he was overestimating the importance of the role he had in her life but judging by how dependent Beth had been on him at the time and the spoiled, naïve and sheltered way with which she had been raised, it was only fair to assume that he’d put her through so much heartbreak that perhaps he’d played a bigger role into turning the woman into a cynical than he’d initially assumed.

You made me lose my ground, Beth had said. That wasn’t something a person who’d experienced a common heartbreak confessed. Her suffering had probably gone beyond that. And Owen knew he had a big load of responsibility for putting her through it.

It was absolutely true that he couldn’t have forced himself to love Beth in the way she wanted him to love her. Owen was in peace with that. But there were a lot of things he could have done differently.

He could have broken up with her earlier on when he’d first realized they didn’t want the same things instead of postponing it and unknowingly doing it in the worst possible moment… Just before her father got sick.

He could have called to check in on her after she’d learned the truth.

Hell, he could have at least asked about her father and offered help if she needed any kind of medical assistance…

It stung to realize this only now, but maybe for Beth, being engaged to him and getting married to him meant more than it did for the surgeon. Owen had failed to realize just how important their relationship was to her at the time. Perhaps he might have ruined her life more than he imagined, more than he’d ever considered himself capable to.

While drowning in his own guilt, Owen failed to realize that he hadn’t really been herself back then.

If he shared some of the thoughts that were torturing him with his wife, she would have rightfully pointed out that he had just been through something huge by the time everything unfolded. After going through perhaps his worst army deployment, Owen had not been in a condition to make any good decisions. In addition to that, he had already accepted that by the time he’d put an end to his relationship with Beth, he didn’t love her in the way she deserved. And frankly, even back then her presence in his life and constant badgering had already started to annoy him. He knew Beth did it with the best of intentions, but Owen just wouldn’t have put up with being questioned constantly and forced to confront his experiences in the Army, much less talking about them.

If Owen had stayed with Beth, he would never have given her the opportunity to help him, no matter how much she would have wanted to. Her attempts would increasingly irritate him, perhaps to the point where everything would backfire, causing more pain and heartbreak. Owen could be quite difficult when he was pushing people away and it was likely he could have hurt Beth even more if he’d forced himself to be around her.

Years later, it was easy to look at his past and judge himself after assuming he could have done better or tried harder. But truth was, Owen couldn’t have seen any of that at the time because he was struggling with his own demons and focusing too much on the outcome of his decisions to really see the bigger picture.

Exactly in the same way he was functioning right now.

Owen took another deep breath, trying to process everything. He couldn’t change his past and the way he’d hurt other people, no matter how much he wanted to. The burden weighing on his chest felt especially heavy after the truths he’d learned recently. Sometimes it was just too hard for him to forgive himself.

One look at the woman sleeping peacefully by his side made Owen want to try and see the silver lining. All his misdoings and mistakes, even the worst ones, had led him exactly to the life he was living right now. That was something he couldn’t take for granted. As he lay awake in bed, forcing himself to clear his mind of all those thoughts, Owen realized that he was sorry for many things. Some of his choices had been absolutely dreadful and if he could go back on them, he would.

But if there was something he wasn’t sorry about it was definitely the person lying next to him and everything they had built together. His family was by far the most important thing he had and it was his responsibility to take care of them and make sure they were okay.

Owen had hurt a lot of people on the course of his life but he would never forgive himself if he did the same to Amelia and the kids. Just the thought of it made him cringe, and the surgeon immediately closed his eyes rejecting the idea, more determined than ever to protect them from anyone and anything.  

Even if that included himself.

--

#omelia #myboys #myboysfanfiction #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #omeliafics #omeliafanfiction #omeliafanfics #omeliafic #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #amenff

[shestillhasherquill]

At the Heart of Darkness (2/11)

Thank you, thank you all for the great reception for the fic. I hope that you continue to enjoy the following chapters as well. I'm sorry there was no update last week, but I was out of town for a wedding.

Here’s my next installment for the @captainswanbigbang. Big thanks to the Mods for working around my schedule for this, and for just being overall awesome and supportive.

This chapter has TWO ARTWORKS, WHAAAT. @sambethe was kind enough to draw one of my favorite scenes from this chapter, a moment of respite for Emma and Killian. And, she also made the banner. She's just the best, and she's captured the lightness of the scene, but the eagerness from Emma so perfectly. Check out her original post for said artwork, and for the banner!

AND @downeystarkjr​ has made a video. I can't even. It's soooo cool. It gives you a peek into what the whole fic is about without too many spoilers until you actually read the scene and go 'OH I GET IT NOW' which was how I felt. It's bloody incredible and amazing and just - go watch it.

As always, I'm in great debt to my beta, @accio-ambition​ for being such an Ace. There's so daddy-daughter fluff that she likes, and I'm pretty sure this is one of the easier chapters she had to edit, just based on the level of angst. Love you, baeeb. Go check out her own fic for CSBB, No Good Deed

Without further ado...

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel

Chapter 1: tumblr ao3 ff.net

Current Chapter: ao3/ff.net

-/-

Chapter 1: I’m waving through a window

21 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Papa, can you tell me again about the sea monster?” Alice begged, clinging to Killian with all her five-year-old might. “Please?”

Killian chuckled, knowing that if he wanted to, he could very easily slip from her grasp. He knew he ought to be sterner with her and not concede every time she begged him, but one look at her pleading, wide eyes and he caved. It was hard for his to resist his child when she asked for little. “Starfish, it’s well past your bedtime. If you don’t sleep now, you will be cranky all morning tomorrow.”

“But, Papa ,” she insisted, climbing on his chest, sitting cross-legged on his stomach. Killian huffed a little, but she hardly weighed anything. “I won’t let you go until you tell me the story,” she said, much too smug for so tiny a child.

Killian did not have the heart to point out he could quite simply lift her off of him and force her to sleep. She was forced to stay in this wretched tower all day, every day of her life - the least he could do was tell her another story. He grabbed one of her small hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Alright, my little pirate. You have me as your hostage. I will tell you the story about the sea monster.” He struggled not to laugh as she folded her arms, leaning back against his thighs, as he had had his knees raised. “Comfortable, are you?”

“Aye, aye, C’ptn,” she said, saluting him clumsily.

He laughed out right at that, tickling her belly and making her giggle. “Papa, stop,” she protested in between giggles. “I want story!”

“Alright, alright.” He was just about to start the tale, when he heard a scraping noise from outside, putting him on high alert. He strained his ears, hoping he had just imagined it, but when he heard it again, he sat up immediately. He lifted Alice off of him, despite her protests, and put her in bed. He reached for his cutlass from where he’d hid it, before turning to her. “Alice, I need you to listen carefully to Papa. Stay here and do not make a sound, alright?”

Alice stared at him wide-eyed before her eyes shifted to his cutlass. Killian turned her head gently with his hook so she was looking at him again. “Alice, love, listen to me. Do you want to have a real adventure?” he asked, forcing more than enough excitement in his tone.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed. “Let’s play pirates!”

“Aye, aye, my little fish. We are playing pirates, and now Papa’s gotta beat the bad guys. You need to stay here until it’s safe, alright?” he whispered, leaning closer to her and putting his finger to his lip.

“Alright, Papa,” she whispered back, mimicking his action. Killian smiled at her, before turning to face the only window in the tower, getting ready to battle whoever it was that came through.

He adjusted his grip on his blade, slipping into his old Captain Hook persona. While he was expecting all forms of danger and evil, including the woman who gave birth to his child, he was still surprised to see a blonde slip through the window, dressed in trousers and a shirt. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, her eyes widening, in surprise or fear, he was not sure.

“Identify yourself, thief,” he demanded, moving towards her, keeping Alice hidden from her sight.

The blonde’s confusion turned into irritation. “I am no thief. I’m Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Present : Land without Magic

It hadn’t been hard for Emma to follow Mr. Castle’s instructions. Take a flight - and public transit - to a sleepy town in Southeastern England, and she will find him. If she wasn’t so eager to be reunited with her love, she would have laughed at how simple it all seemed. She had been in this land for over a year, and she had quickly realised that money could buy her anything - even fake papers and identity. For all that she wanted for in life - being reunited with Killian and Alice, breaking the wretched curse that forced them apart, and getting her hands around Gothel’s neck - money was not one of them. Killian’s supply of gold had been seemingly endless, but just a pursefull has been more than enough for her to afford the luxury of a new identity and means of travel in this metal craft that flew.

To say she was wary of this mode of transportation would be a gross understatement. And as helpful as the wine the helpers on the craft had been pouring for her was, it was only enough to dull her anxiety, not quell it. When the plane seemed to get more turbulent than usual, she gripped the handrests tight, trying to think of anything but being stuck in something that seemed to fly without any magic.

21 years ago : The Enchanted Forest

Killian’s eyebrows raised incredulously. “You’re raving mad, lass. Princess Emma is but a child now. Who are you, really?” He stepped up to her now, pressing his blade against her throat before she could draw the sword at her hip.

Emma rolled her eyes, raising her hands in surrender. “I’m not from this reality,” she huffed. “I am a Princess. I am from Misthaven. I’m just not from the same reality as you.”

Killian’s brows furrowed, uncertain if he should trust this stranger. “If you really are who you say you are, why are you here?”

“Listen, friend. I have been on the run from the savages in the villages, and this was the first place I could find. I did not know it was occupied.”

Killian did not want to lower his weapon, especially when she claimed to be on the run. “Well, it is occupied. So you would do well to be on your way, lass. Unless you want to meet a worse fate.” But before Emma could retaliate, he heard Alice speak up, coming out from under the blankets.

“Papa, I don’t want to play pirates anymore.” Killian resisted the urge to groan out loud, ignoring the surprised look on Emma’s face as he turned to face his daughter.

“Darling, I told you to stay in bed, and stay quiet.” But Alice ignored him, her eyes wide as she noticed the presence of another person. Before he could grab a hold of her, Alice ran over to the newcomer, a big grin on her face.

“Are you a friend? I’m Alice,” she stated, with all the tact of a five-year-old, holding her hand out.

Emma gaped at Alice, trying and failing to come up with an appropriate response. Killian ran his hand through his hair, walking over to his daughter and pulling her to his side. “Like I said, lass, this tower is occupied. Whatever your grievances with the villagers, they are your own. I will not allow you to bring my daughter into any trouble.” His voice was low and soft, but the threat was clear.

Emma eyed his hook warily before she squared her shoulders. “They think me a witch. I’m not - I’m just -” Emma paused, composing herself. “I’m gifted with light magic. My parents were Snow White and Prince Charming, like in this reality - but they were defeated by The Evil Queen in mine. I had to escape.”

Killian’s expression softened, but as much as he empathised with this woman, he could not risk Alice’s safety. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, lass. I really am. But I cannot let you stay here - I need to put my daughter first.” He felt Alice squirm in his hold, and he held her back.

Emma looked defeated, nodding in understanding. She backed away, getting ready to leave, when Alice’s voice stopped her.

“Can you really do magic?” the little girl asked, her curiosity and wonder blatant.

Emma smiled softly, looking to Killian questioningly. He reluctantly nodded, still keeping his grip on Alice. Emma crouched to Alice’s height, holding out her hand, drawing from the magic within her. Moments later, a daisy laden flower crown was dangling from her fingers.

Alice gasped, reaching out to it instinctively, but she quickly remembered her place and pulled her hand back. Emma couldn’t help but smile at her, holding the crown out to her. “May I?” Emma asked Alice, chuckling when the girl nodded eagerly.

Emma placed the crown delicately on Alice’s head, grinning at the bright smile that overtook Alice’s face. “There. Now you’re a princess, too,” Emma declared.

“I’m a pirate princess,” Alice corrected, prompting a chuckle from her father.

“That you are, Starfish. Now say goodbye to the kind lady, and get yourself in bed. It is well past your bedtime.”

Alice nodded; she reached for Emma’s hand, shaking it. “Thanks for my crown.” She paused, watching Emma contemplatively. “If you can do magic, can you get me out of this tower?” Alice wondered out loud, not realising her father’s sudden change in demeanor.

Emma’s brows furrowed at Alice’s question, before she turned to Killian. He sighed, perhaps for the hundredth time that night, kneeling beside Alice and turning her to face him. He smiled painfully at her, brushing wayward strands of hair from her eyes. “Alice, I’m not certain Emma here can do that, darling.”

“But she said she can do magic, Papa. You said magic was keeping me here,” Alice protested, scowling at him. He knew that look, that deep frown. She was trying to force her tears back, and she was getting ready to start a fight. It broke his heart to keep disappointing her, but he had no choice.

“What is she talking about?” Emma asked, drawing the attention of both father and daughter toward her again. “Is she being kept here against her will?” she demanded, raising to her full height, and her hand placed on the pommel of her sword threateningly.

Her response irked Killian, as irrational as it was. Emma had no inkling of his or Alice’s history, but she already seemed to have jumped to an unsavory conclusion. That just rubbed him wrong. He rose to his feet too, lifting Alice with him. “I’m not sure you have any right to imply whatever it is you are, lass,” he warned her. “My daughter was cursed to the confines of this wretched tower, but if you dare insinuate that I am holding her hostage, I-” Keeping in mind the presence of his child, he held back on his threats. “It would not end well for you, princess or not.”

He saw Emma’s stance relax, her guilt evident as she glanced away from his gaze. He was glad that no matter how long it had been since he had given up being a pirate, he was still able to exude an air of authority. “I-I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn,” Emma replied, sounding remorseful. She seemed to hesitate before adding. “I know you want me gone, but I am trained in magic and the mystical arts - I could see what I could do about the spell keeping your daughter in this tower.”

Alice’s face lit up at Emma’s offer, and she was nodding before Killian could even process what Emma had said. Emma looked to Killian then, sensing his reluctance. “My word may not mean much to you, but I swear, I will not do anything to harm you or your daughter.”

Killian swallowed thickly, knowing that he had no choice but to agree. There was no more harm this woman could do. Alice was already stuck in this tower. If there was even a small chance that Emma could free his child, he had to trust her. “Aye, you’re right. I will pay you handsomely for your work, lass - if there is any chance at all to free my girl of her imprisonment, I want to know.”

Alice leaned tiredly against his shoulder then, making him realise how late it was. “That can wait till morning. I should put this little lass to bed,” he said, adjusting his grip on Alice. “You can take the hammock, Emma. I can sleep on the bed here, with Alice.”

Emma nodded, smiling and waving goodnight to Alice. “Thank you…?”

“Killian Jones, milady. I’d bow, but I have precious cargo in my arms,” he joked. Emma waved him off, smiling at a now sleeping Alice.

“Thank you, Killian Jones . I appreciate you letting me stay the night.” Killian nodded, walking to the secluded corner that served as Alice’s room, drawing the heavy curtains to afford them some privacy.

He place Alice under her cover gently, trying not to jostle her awake. He knelt at her bedside, smiling at the peaceful look on his daughter’s face, knuckles tracing her cheek softly, before he brushed a kiss goodnight on her forehead. He then settled on the armchair next to her bed, keeping watch. As much as he would like to trust this woman, he knew better. No matter how noble she might portray her intentions as, magic always came with a price. He could not afford that price to be Alice.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

It was quite late in the evening when Emma finally reached her destination, and she was weary from both the plane ride and her commute to this little town. She could not wait to see Killian; if she had a little less restraint, she would have gone knocking on his door, his lack of memories be damned. She was half-tempted to do that, but she couldn’t bring herself to disrupt his life so abruptly. She did need him to help her find Alice, yes, but selfishly, she wanted just a moment with him before he remembered.

She sat heavily on the bed at the inn where she was staying. Her hand once again reached for the ring around her neck, feeling the warmth of the magic residing in it. While she could not strictly use magic in this land, it did not mean she couldn’t channel magical objects. She wasn’t a fool, coming here with no way to defend herself against Gothel. She was certain that vile witch had own arsenal for her dark magic.

Emma brought her feet up, sitting more comfortably on the bed before she grabbed her journal. She made sure to record everything that had happened in the past twenty years, all of Alice’s milestones and about their adventures together. The first few weeks after Killian left them, when Alice was inconsolable, writing had been Emma’s solace, the only way she could talk about her own anger and frustration, her heartbreak and pain. A part of her was uncertain if she would ever show it to Killian, knowing how much it would hurt him. She would gladly tell him anything he wanted to know, but for now, this journal was for her eyes alone.

There had been days, in the beginning, when she had snuck back to the ruins of the tower sometimes, selfishly wishing for a moment that they had never tried to break the spell. The next, she would remember how miserable Alice had been, stuck within those walls, and hated herself for ever wanting to go back to such times. Days like that, her dark days, those were the hardest - when she was filled with nothing but anger and hate toward Killian, Gothel, the whole lot of them. But the person she hated the most was herself, for it was her idea that led to their downfall in the first place. Emma diligently penned her thoughts down, the self-loathing rising and cresting within her. She would take this moment now, to dwell and cry; tomorrow would be a new day. She had a pirate to find and a family to reunite, and hoped desperately that she was still welcome in that family.

-/-

21 years ago : The Enchanted Forest

Emma blinked against the too-bright light falling through the large window, stretching her arms above her head. She almost toppled over in her hammock, catching herself before she fell and managing to land on her feet with all the grace of a drunkard. She squinted at her surroundings, trying to catch her bearings; it took her a moment to remember where she was. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking around the room, searching for Killian Jones and his daughter. At that exact moment, the man himself walked from the alcove that served as Alice’s room, carrying the half-asleep child in his arms.

“Good morning, lass,” he greeted, his voice hoarse and quiet. “Alice is not a morning person,” he whispered in explanation as he headed to the small kitchen area, getting a fire going and setting water to boil, all one-handedly while holding his daughter, as if he had done it a thousand times before. He probably had.

“Good morning,” Emma murmured. “If you want, I could hold Alice for you,” she offered, feeling useless as he went about his morning routine.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, refusing her as politely as he could. And if she noticed Killian’s grip on Alice tightening, she chose to ignore it. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Emma observed him quietly, a pang in her chest as she saw him interact with a sleepy Alice, whispering to his child with a soft cadence to this voice.

As if sensing her eyes on him and Alice, Killian looked up and their gazes met. She held it for a moment too long before she averted her eyes, embarrassed at being caught staring. Killian cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Alice. “The spell, ahem, how long would that take you?”

“It should not take me long to assess how strong the barrier that is keeping your daughter in here is. But do you mind telling me a bit more about how it happened? It might help me understand the original spell better.”

Killian, who had been pouring their tea, almost dropped the kettle at her question. He froze for a moment, looking down at Alice with a pained expression. He did not want to rehash it if she was awake, but fortunately, Alice was still asleep. He brushed a hand down his daughter’s locks, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and finally turned to Emma again. “A witch used blood magic to keep her trapped in here. I can leave the tower and come back - anyone can, as you know - but Alice cannot. She has been trapped in here from the moment she was born.”

Emma exhaled sharply, her heart hurting for the little girl. She knew well enough how unfair having one’s freedom and choice taken away could feel. She could not imagine knowing nothing beyond these walls from the moment she was born. “I am so sorry to hear that, Killian.” She hesitated before asking, “What about Alice’s mother?”

“She is no longer in the picture,” Killian snapped, startling Emma. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he continued. “She is not here. Now, I would appreciate it if you could get on with the spell, aye?”

-/-

Present : Land without magic

Killian woke up feeling extremely restless that morning. He spent an hour in the home gym working up a sweat. He wished he could work on his new book, but he had promised Will not to keep messing with it, to leave it be. It’s perfect as is, Jones. At some point, you need to stop editing , he’d said when Killian had called him last night with a few changes. All he had left was the dedication. After all these years of the same single line, he felt it was time to change it. He’d always dedicated his books to the people who struggle the same way he had with his alcoholism, and while that would remain the same, it just did not seem like enough this time around. He hadn’t told Will this yet, but this would be the last book in his series - The Davy Jones Chronicles. It felt like a good place to end Captain Hook’s story, as elusive as it was.

Maybe that was why he felt so restless. Or maybe you are still thrown off by Eloise , a voice at the back of his head said. Which he dismissed quickly, of course. There was nothing wrong with the woman: she just came on a little too strong. Maybe a walk into town would help clear his head, and help expel his restless energy. With the decision made, Killian had a quick shower, got dressed, and headed into town for the day.

After a quick stop for breakfast at his favorite little cafe at the bottom of the hill his cottage was on, he found himself wandering Main Street aimlessly. While he had been in this quaint town for a little over a month, he hadn’t taken the time to fully explore it. A Wednesday seemed like the perfect day to do just that - most people would be at work, and he could take his own sweet time. He ducked into a small alley, not unlike the one Eloise’s shop was in, surprised by the number of vintage and antiquities shops housed in the narrow lane.

He took his time exploring each one, with no agenda in mind. One of the stores seemed to have a nautical theme going on, intriguing him. He stepped in, looking around with a childlike wonder; he was hit with an odd sense of nostalgia, a certain longing for the life of a pirate that he only had written about so far. He hadn’t been out on the ocean in a long while, not since his brother passed. It never felt right to go without Liam at his side. He turned his back on that life a long time ago; it was only Captain Hook who now had adventures on the water, not Killian Jones.

He stopped short when he spotted a compass on the display case. It was a fairly ordinary one, but it gave him a strange sense of deja vu. He stood there staring at it for so long that the salesperson approached him, asking if he was interested in taking a closer look. For a moment, he was tempted, even perhaps to purchase it; but the moment passed and he decided against it. What could he possibly need a compass for?

He wandered out of the store, meandering through the same alley. It was only when he was passing a secondhand bookstore that something caught his eye in his periphery, making him halt in his tracks. He turned, eyes wide in disbelief, staring through the glass display window of the store at the person inside. It was the blonde haired woman from his dreams, he knew it. He had never seen her face, but he’d seen her from behind and this woman, whoever she was, was her. She had her back to him, so he made a quick decision, pushing his way through the door, his eyes never leaving her. She turned away from the person she was conversing with when she heard the bell, her eyes falling on his.

The moment his eyes met her sharp green ones, Killian’s breath hitched, and he could have sworn his heart had skipped a beat. She stared at him with the same kind of surprise, lips parted slightly, and Killian wondered if she was having a similar visceral reaction as he did. Before he could stop himself, he drew closer to her. “You...I…” He struggled to speak, not knowing how he could explain himself.

After watching him struggle for a moment longer, the woman finally spoke, a barely discernible tremble in her voice. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked, politely. With no recognition in her eyes. She didn’t know him and for some reason he could feel the disappointment swell deep in his chest.

When he realised the woman was still waiting for his response, he drew back from his thoughts. “Yes, yes. I’m fine,” he assured her, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, you just look very familiar.” When he saw her shoulders tense, he felt the need to apologise. “I must be mistaken, forgive me. Killian Jones.” He held out his hand.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her hand clutching the chain around her neck briefly before she took his hand and said, “Emma. Swan. I-I’m sorry I wasn’t who you were looking for.”

Killian was not certain, but Emma seemed oddly upset at that. He noticed the book she had been holding, making him grin involuntarily. “ The Davy Jones Chronicles? Excellent choice,” he commented gleefully.

Emma laughed softly, clutching the book tighter. “I read the first book in the series and got, shall I say, hooked .”

Now it was his turn to laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. Did she know ? he wondered. Did she know that I am the one who wrote it ?

It seemed to have dawned on Emma at the same time, as her eyes widened. “Wait, Killian Jones? As in the writer? This is your book?”

He chuckled in embarrassment, nodding at her. “Yeah, it is. I-I’m really glad you like it, Miss Swan.”

“Emma is fine,” she replied, waving at him dismissively.

“Right. Emma.” He felt a strange connection to this Emma Swan, but he did not want to come off too strong, again, and frighten her. He was so certain that she was the blonde haired woman from his dreams; as crazy as that sounded, he believed that with all his heart. “Perhaps, we could discuss books that aren’t mine over a cup of coffee?” he suggested, all while berating himself for being too forward.

Emma seemed like she wanted to decline, but she surprised him. “I’d like that, Killian.”

-/-

21 years ago : The Enchanted Forest

Killian returned from putting Alice back in bed, soothing her sleepy questions with assured murmurs. “I’ll be right back, love,” he whispered, extracting himself from her hold.

When he returned to the front room, he found Emma pacing, holding a small, weathered notebook in her hands. “Are you ready, Emma?” he asked, startling her.

She looked up at him contemplatively, before she nodded. “Yes, I am. But I’m going to need a small drop of Alice’s blood.”

“Absolutely not!” Killian protested, his fierce protectiveness rising to the fore. “You will not harm her.”

“Killian, she is trapped by blood magic,” Emma tried to explain, but he cut her off.

“I don’t bloody well care,” he snarled. “Find another way.”

“It’s just a drop-”

“Another. Way,” he growled out. “I am not going to wake my sleeping child just so you can take her blood. I thought you were going to assess how strong the barrier was.”

“I was just trying to think ahead,” Emma snapped, losing her patience. “Isn’t that the logical next step, to break the barrier?”

“We will come to that when we do,” he argued. “First tell me if we can break it.”

Emma seemed ready to counter, but she held her tongue, scowling at him. “Fine.” She walked toward the window, holding her hand out as if to touch the barrier. Killian knew from experience that only Alice would be able to see and touch it. It was meant only for her, after all. Which is why, when he saw the slight shimmer of the barrier, he was taken aback.

“Was that you?” he asked, standing next to Emma.

“Yes, now keep quiet. I need to concentrate,” she hissed, her eyes closed.

He watched her while she worked, a small furrow between her eyebrows. Killian felt a swell of gratitude for Emma, knowing that she could have lied about her magic, or even refused to humour Alice and help them. But she went out her way to try and find a way to break the spell, even without him asking that of her. And he had been nothing but curt and cutting. Liam would disapprove greatly of his behaviour, tell him it was bad form.

He was brought back to the present when he heard Emma gasp. He saw her pull her hands back, cradling them against her chest. He went on alert, turning her by the shoulder to face him, not thinking about how forward he was being. “What is it? Are you alright?”

Emma nodded unconvincingly, biting into her lip quite hard. “It’s nothing. Whoever put up the spell is pretty fucking awful,” she swore, walking to the cask of water in the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and filling it with water.

“Emma, what happened?” Killian asked, following her. He stopped when he saw her hands, his breath catching in his throat. They were burned, badly. “Bloody hell, lass.”

Emma ignored him, pouring the cold water over her wounds, wincing in pain.

“Let me help you with that, darling,” he said, grabbing the bowl from her. If either of the them noticed the change in endearment, they did not comment on it. He washed her wound more thoroughly, holding her hand firmly with his hook.

“You don’t have to do this,” Emma murmured, trying not to hiss. Killian did not respond, instead grabbing a box off a nearby shelf, opening it and grabbing some fresh cloth and a salve.

“This will help with the burns,” he explained, indicating her to hold her hand out. “This will sting,” he warned, applying the clear substance on her hands, shushing her when she cried out. “My Alice gets into a lot of scrapes, the little monkey. I always have medicine at hand.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Emma asked, wincing when he pressed the cloth over her hand, wrapping it around her hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I try.” He shrugged. “Now hold still.” He finished wrapping the bandage, using his teeth to tie it, his eyes never leaving hers.

Emma swallowed thickly. She quickly looked away, letting him finish treating her other hand. When he did, she pulled her hands back, clearing her throat. “Thanks.”

“Emma, you just got burned doing magic for my daughter. Patching you up was the least I could do.” He pulled up a stool, making her sit, before he continued. “Now, what happened?”

“Well, the witch who put up the spell made sure it can’t be broken by another magic user. A great contingency plan, burn the magic right out of the other person,” she complained.

Killian sucked in a sharp breath. “Bloody hell, don’t tell me your magic-”

“No, no,” she assured him. “Light magic is not that easy to destroy. But that’s why I was burned. My magic is temporarily, let’s say, paralysed. I can’t use it for a while, but it’ll come back, don’t worry,” she said, much too flippantly for Killian’s taste.

“Of course I’ll worry, Emma. This- this happened because of me. I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Hey, it’s alright. If I had to, I would do it again.”

“Why? Why help us? You don’t even know us.”

Emma breathed out deeply, looking down at her hands and avoiding his gaze. “I never got the chance to save my parents. I hated my magic for a long time...but I have a gift. I couldn’t waste it. Helping you and Alice is the right thing to do. It’s what they would have done. This is the only way I can honour them.”

-/-

Present: Land without Magic

“Since you know what I do for a living, I seem to be at a disadvantage here, lass. Care to share?” Killian asked, looking at her over his large cup of coffee.

Emma panicked, unsure what would pass for a proper job in this realm. “I- I’m in the business of helping people in need,” she said finally, hiding her own nerves by taking a large sip of her milkshake.

“A volunteer? That’s wonderful, Emma,” he praised, his eyes lighting up. Emma resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him. It was extremely hard, seeing the man she loved - who, in their world, in a world where he had his memories and no dark curse, loved her back - sitting across from her, right within arms reach, after twenty years of separation, and not be with him. Not be able to hold him, and kiss him. Not be able to share her troubles with him, and have him just be there for her. This was Killian Jones, the essence of him had not changed with the false memories and two decades, but it was not her Killian Jones - her pirate, her love, the father of her favorite child.

However, he was physically the same. Same handsome, soft features; same stormy eyes; same sharp jawline. If she hadn’t suffered through these years, she would not have believed that it’s been twenty years.

“Emma? Are you still with me?” Killian asked, waving a hand in front of her face, drawing her away from her reminiscing.

She shook her head, smiling at him. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Uh, what were you saying?”

“I was just asking what kind of volunteering do you do?”

And frankly, being put on the spot, the only thing Emma could think of was… “Hospital. I volunteer at the hospital.”

Killian looked impressed, and seemed like he was about to ask her more about her job. She had to divert him from that, lest she blurt something suspicious. So far she had been able to blend in well in this world, and not attract any attention to herself. The longer she stayed hidden, the less likely she would alert Gothel to her presence. She reached for his hand without further thought, drawing his attention away from whatever he was about to ask her.

“So, Killian Jones. What made you come up with the pirate story?” she asked, her smile coy.

He huffed out a chuckle, his hand scratching behind his ear. The move was something her Killian did, especially when he was embarrassed or shy. It made her heart constrict. No matter what, he was still in there. No curse or memory spell would take that away from him. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, again, she almost missed what he said. “-came to me in my dream. It felt so real, like they were my memories, from a past life or something.”

Emma looked up sharply, wondering if he actually remembered something. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?” she asked, hoping her tone conveyed mild curiosity and not the desperation that she felt.

He hesitated, and Emma hoped that he wasn’t regretting telling her. “Oh, just dreams, you know? That I was a pirate captain, Captain Hook,” he huffed, holding up his prosthetic. “Maybe my subconscious was trying to make me feel better about my lack of a hand,” he tried to joke, but Emma could sense the pain in his words. And so she did something she often used to do back home. She grabbed both his hand, real and prosthetic, in her hands, holding them with equal tenderness.

“You don’t need to play it off, Killian. It’s alright to mourn a loss,” she whispered, hoping that she was not overstepping. She was not used to stepping on eggshells around him, it was so odd for her to be careful of how familiar she was with him.

Thankfully, he did not seem to be offended by her forwardness, instead smiling at her gratefully. “Thank you, Emma. That was kind of you to say.”

She squeezed both his hands, her own heart swelling. It had been far too long since she could touch him, that something as simple as hand-holding made her want to never let go. A voice at the back of her head told her to get it over with, to give him his memories back. That he would want that, knowing Alice was in danger. Despite what Alice had told her, she really did want to, But he had been selfish once, forcing this on them. It was her turn to be selfish, to have this moment with him, just for a while, and not worry about Gothel or the curse or anything else. Just for a moment.

He would hate her for it later, she knew. But she had to do what was right, for her, just once.

-/-

Emma and Killian had spent the rest of the afternoon, and most of the evening, talking, sharing a couple of bottles of wine between the two of them. Emma listened, enraptured, as he told her about his travels. And Killian in turn asked her about her volunteer work, and she told him as much as she could without sounding crazy. They parted ways, albeit quite reluctantly, with each other’s numbers in their respective phones, with a promise of him calling her soon.

She walked back to where she was staying, a large smile on her face. She was practically skipping! But much like all good things, her happiness too was short lived. She rounded a corner, and ran into the last person she was expecting to see.

“Gothel,” she gasped, her hand flying to her ring, and drawing power from it. But before she could react, Gothel drove her hand through her chest.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Princess Emma,” she taunted, squeezing Emma’s heart and making her wheeze at the pressure, her hand clutching Gothel’s arm, trying to get her to budge.

“Let- let me go.”

“I might not be able to take your heart, Princess. But for what I have planned, I don’t need to remove your heart. I just need to poison it.”

Emma struggled in her hold, her eyes tearing up. “You can’t stop me,” Emma panted, shouting in pain when Gothel’s vile magic entered her heart.

“Oh, this is just to subdue you, dear. I’ll find Killian before you’ll get a chance to warn him.” And with that, she pulled her hand out of Emma’s chest, leaving her slumped against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. “You should have taken the chance when you had it, dear. Didn’t your mother teach you not to dawdle?”

Emma clutched at her chest, feeling the poison do its work. Despite the pain she was in, Emma couldn’t help the relief that spread through her. She might have waited to tell Killian the truth, but she was not a fool. He was protected by a very strong cloaking spell, and it would take Gothel a while to break it. Emma just hoped that she would recover before Gothel managed to find Killian.

That was her last thought before the world turned dark and Emma lay slumped against the alley wall, alone and powerless.

-/-

Later that night, Killian’s dreams were plagued by the same blonde woman. But this one was much different that the other dreams. The little girl, Alice, who called him Papa was not there. It was just the blonde, with her back turned to him, still. But before he could resign himself to the fact that he would yet again wake up before he could see who she was, she turned, making him gasp out loud when he saw her face.

“Emma,” he said, breathlessly. “I knew it.”

“Run,” she whispered back. “Run!”

Killian gasped awake, a sharp pain radiating through his chest. But despite the pain, and abruptly waking up, he remembered his dream very clearly. The blonde from his dreams was real, it was Emma.

Which meant….Which meant Alice must be real too.

#cs ff #knightrook #csbb #cs angst #csbb fic #csbb art

[eslinogambino-blog]

Im a transguy and trying to get to know this girl on a dating site but i am lying to her and i dont know how to turn it around. she wants to meet and i dont know what to say to her but shell find out if we take it to the next level i cant so what do i say to reverse it. btw im glad you are back. your advice has always helped me

Dating when transgender is a whole new experience to dating as someone born the gender they present as, which I’m sure you’re seeing. But it also isn’t in my opinion. Maybe I’m transgender. Maybe I’m cisgender. Maybe I’m a chicken nugget. Maybe it’s maybelline. Maybe I’m gay. Maybe I’m straight. Who knows. Either way, I see approaching relationships the same.

When I’m getting to know a girl, I talk to her for a long time before I meet her. I would say out of 50 messages I might have with women, I only meet 5 maximum. The other 45 I decided wouldn’t fit me or I didn’t vibe with the right way. I saved myself a lot of heartbreak and rejection that way.

For someone who is transgender it’s no different really. You should always take the time to get to know someone, understand their view points and personality. After all depending on the point you are in within your transition can make it pretty impossible to meet up for just a hook up. This is where things are different and this prolonged process of getting to know someone is almost essential to move forward. Going on a date without her knowing, is sort of allowing her to assume something about you that if she knew more, maybe she’d be uncomfortable or confused, sometimes even feel betrayed. Some people just outright aren’t okay with it and could even react violently. It’s not okay but it does happen.

I would say during this beginning period of just talking, to be a friend. Don’t have your hopes up, but be confident in who you are and what you can offer. Avoid romantic or sexual conversations. This isn’t the wrong thing to do no matter your identity, it’s always good to respect someone as a person before assuming you fit in other ways. Find out her political beliefs. Find out her position on bullying or the underdog. gay people. etc… a lot of these things will help you know if she’s harshly against it or even mildly understanding of it. When you have an indication, if it’s positive, move forward. If negative, its over. You no longer need to talk to her, and you never got your emotions involved so no harm, no foul, move along to the next. Keep her friendship if you’d like but she isn’t interested. You also didn’t have to tell her something personal about yourself that you’d probably regret revealing.

Upon moving forward, drop small hints. Never make jokes about your balls if you don’t have them, never try to overcompensate with hypermasculinity and being a man if its something that you struggle with. Try being transparent without actually saying you’re transgender directly. It should be somewhat obvious there is something different about you in regards to masculinity or typical gender norms before you meet without you directly making a deal of it. If she gets the hint and doesn’t like it, she’ll do you the favor and go away. Don’t chase her, she is not interested.

Eventually when you feel safe reaching and speaking with her on deeper topics, especially social ones that make you different, then I would initiate meeting. You don’t have to tell her yet, it’s already obvious she’s cool with it as a person, finding out if shes cool with it romantically is only after things actually become romantic. If you meet up and she’s flirting, seems romantically drawn to you, and assumes its a date, then I would be comfortable enough to entertain the IDEA of liking her back but not really give that all back. She’ll notice something is off, your engagement in return to her seems off. She might ask and that’s your opportunity to tell her, or you can tell her later if things went well that you’re not like other guys, there are some things that are different and you think she’s cool but you don’t know how she’d feel about it.

She might just tell you she already kinda knew. She might ask you what that entails. So answer her questions. If she’s as understanding as you’ve made sure she is, then she will be cautious in her questions. If the questions are fitting to romantic or sexual desires, then she is probably interested in less of what it means to you and more in how it affects her. So tell her honestly, what you intend to do in your transition, what you’ve already done, what you are comfortable with and what you expect from a woman. Be sensible and logical, not everything needs to be so personal and detailed.

I think with dating women it’s easier in some ways. Certain women at least. They’re more receptive to taking an emotional stance on things. So you have some leverage there. A woman will be more calm and understanding of your reveal. Let’s say she denies you, you missed the mark, you thought she liked you and would be understanding and she’s not. That’s okay, you have others to talk to thankfully, you never got fully invested, and you only told someone who understood and wont judge you for it or go around telling people your business. You made a real genuine friend.

if she is cool with it, I would just continue the friendship and see if things get romantic. Don’t bring up the trans thing, you’re just a guy. No need to make jokes about it, no need to make her think about it. You’re just a guy, she already got her questions answered in regards to that. Things will naturally just go on like any relationship.

I’d give 2 months minimum for this all to develop and she’ll appreciate you more for actually getting to know her.

For trans women, I would say withhold sex. Normalize being transgender. Some men will only be willing to engage with you sexually if they are fetishizing you, because their perceived masculinity requirements wont allow them to see you romantically. It’s a lot harder in my opinion. I would say withhold sex, be a person, be a friend. Find out his views, find out his comforts, slowly ease in the idea that youre different from other women and if he rejects you, is mean to you, slanders you.  You just say : i apologize that you feel mislead at all by how I am, I never intended for that, I really think youre a cool person and I didnt know if you’d be open to it. It was worth a try, I dont really see you romantically just yet anyway, but I thought it’d be cool to chill. But thanks anyway for taking the time to get to know me as a person.” and you can block them or withstand another threat or insult, or maybe hear him out. Maybe a friendship will arise and maybe it will become more if he sees there is no pressure.

I try to encourage everyone who is trans to not be so open about it immediately. Don’t deceive, just only reveal it when you are comfortable with someone. Profile should say male or female if thats what you identify as. The trans thing is more what youve done or are doing, youre transitioning but its not WHAT or WHO you are. It’s not really an identity at all, it’s kind of the background noise or schematics of it all. If you treat it that way, others will, too….most of the time.

As for reversing a lie, I would say that you got yourself in a tough spot. I would become a bit distant and less romantic with this person to make it clear you are guilty or feel like you’ve overstepped. Usually when you step back, someone steps forward…at least if they care. So you step back, she steps forward, you explain you havent been honest and youre not really like other dudes and you feel like you’ve mislead her and you’ll understand if she doesnt want to go forward with things. She’ll encourage you but dont play games, make sure you feel comfortable. There is a risk here. When you feel you’ve beat around it enough and she’s let down her guard enough, reveal. I would also start to check her political views and ideas about social events going on before revealing no matter what. It’s extremely important to do that. She might reveal she is a die hard trump fan, anti lgbt hardcore and you know to just stop talking to her. Why would you want to be with someone like that anyway? Cis or Trans?

Basically, treat it like any other relationship but prolong the intimate stuff until you know them better. Everyone will be saved from  a lot of heartbreak, rejection and embarrassment. You never have to get too attached to the potential of someone else if your options are always open to being friends or maybe something else, who knows, If you have an agenda, I dont think you should be dating people anyway. If youre not willing to be genuinely interested in them as a person, you’re just going to hurt them eventually anyway, whether they see passed it or not.

#question #relationship

[foreignexchangerecords]

To The international community, the ministry of health, and the citizens of Ghana world wide.

To The international community, the minstry of health, and the citizens of Ghana world wide.  

Day 1.  I arrived at Kotoka International Airport (KIA) from Windhoek Namibia, via Ethiopian Airlines.I took a covid 19 PCR test as required by the airline.My results came back negative. I was informed by the Namibian authorities I had to pay 50$ for a covid test at online before my flight to Ghana. I made an online payment and was giving a receipt with a barcode bearing my passport number. Departure was announced and my family and I boarded the plane. The plane sat for what seemed like Half a day before take off. Apparently whiles the plane was being refueled, the full tank was over filled and the petrol spilt all over the plane and the runway, where the plane was parked. Fire trucks were sent out immediately to wash the petrol off the plane and the runway. I had fallen asleep the moment I sat down. My sister told me the story in mid air. I could not believe my ears. Is this real life ? We are flying in a plane that can potentially catch fire in mid air? My mind burst 🙀. We took a 5 hour flight from Namibia to Ethiopia. My mother, my sister and her family were rushed out the plane to catch their connection flight to Canada. I  had just a few hours in Ethiopia to transit  to Ghana. I spent the night at the starlight hotel after paying for an upgrade, which almost cost me my life in my previous trip to Ethiopia. At arrival  I filled out an online form at (KIA) and took the nose swab covid test with a nurse. I noticed the nurse stick a serial number paper to a small bottle which he used to collect my sample.I also notice my name was not on the bottle, just a serial number. About 30 mins later I was called to a small room in the arrival hall and told my covid test has come back positive. My world immediately got smaller. I have 24 - 48 hours to live, I started thinking what are the chances I will be alive by the end of the day? Everything become a blur. I was confused, shocked, sad and afraid for my life. Another woman was brought into the same room with me. She was very upset and loud.”I don’t believe your test” she argued with the Ghanian authorities. My test from Dubai is negative. I must test again she demanded. I am not going to die in Ghana. We were both told we had to wait for the bus to be full of people before they will let us leave to the hospital. We sat in this small room for what seemed to be forever. The authorities were waiting for other people to test positive to minimize their trips back and forth, I was told.Finally, the ambulance was ready to go. It was just the two of us. We were on our way to a hospital called Ga east to take a second test for confirmation. We were both traveling alone.We were rushed to the Ga east medical facility for a second test. after 3 mouth swabs and 2 nose samples for covid 19 a PCR and antigen test, I was informed that the results of the test in Ga east hospital will not  be shared with me. I was told it was only to be used by the government of ghana for research. No paper work was done nether did I sign over my samples as proof of consent. After I had gone back and forth with them I was escorted back to the front of the hospital and given a chair to sir outside the hospital. The instructions was to wait for the ambulance to come back from the airport, and then take me to an isolation centre of my choice. The nurse in charged said I could not remain at Ga east , where she boasted had better accommodation including VIP rooms. My options were either Pantang hospital or Midindi hotel. I refused to be dropped off at Pantang hospital, and rather preferred to take a ride to cantonment which is closer to  my god mother in cantonment  Dr.Jennifer brown AryeaI arrived at Midindi hotel at night. I waited a few hours at the reception making phone calls to my family to give my sisters an update on my current health situation, since I had just received a positive covid test result. I spoke to the reception and asked him what my options were. He explained that he could give me a room and allow me to pay 450 Ghc for the first night. I asked him if I can pay with a debit card , and he said my only options were cash or Momo (mobile money). He gave me a cell phone number to send the money too. This number happened to be a direct phone number to the owner of the hotel Mr Francise chapman Ferguson  Grant ( 0243418496) I sent him 450 Ghc . I was  given a room that was barely clean and had used towels. The receptionist sent up clean towels and told me I  would speak to a doctor the following day, who will be able to give me more information on how soon I can leave . I made a phone call to my Lawyer Mr Randal Obeng

Day 2. The next day on April 20th 2021, a doctor by the name of  Dr Isaac Nortey told me I was to remain at the hotel under Quarantine for 7 days under his jurisdiction and adhere to protocol for covid 19 treatment. His soldiers from the ghana arm forces will be there to make sure I do not leave the hotel. Soldier name Mr Marfo ([phone]) I asked my auntie Dr Jennifer brown Aryee to call the doctor and ask him to release me so I can quarantine at home. After speaking to him she  called me back and said she was assured that I  was being detained and quarantined for my own benefit and good well being, for 7 days. Dr Jennifer brown Aryea  was told by Dr Isaac Nortey  it was not an option for me to quarantine in my apartment on my own or at Ga east hospital. My only 2 options were Pantang hospital  or in Midindi hotel. 

Day 3. I reached out to a Nigerian woman called  Bernie who was taking from the airport  to Pantaine government facility. She told me she had been given a test at the Pantang hospital and was waiting for her results .To my surprise she  was going to be  allowed to go back to her home in Nigeria in 4 days. Her number is [phone] (Bernie) She left the next day 

Day 4. I  met Mr Boski from lagos who was staying at Midindi hotel with me, also under government quarantine. After the 5th day he decided to reach out to Leading covid test facility to book   a private mobile test. His results came back negative.Dr Isaac Nortey and his nurse were extremely angry with him and the soldiers for allowing a private test to happen on the property of the hotel.The test was conducted in the gym . He asked for immediate release and was told his result were not under the jurisdiction of Dr Isaac Nortey and must remain in the hotel for the full term of 7 days as the protocol mandated. He had already been billed for the full 7 days upon arrival at the hotel. 

Day 5. After making several complains to the Nigerian embassy and contacts in Lagos, Mr Boski was given another test by Dr. Isaac Nortey.This time a government test approved covid 19 test under his jurisdiction. Again he did not receive his results, the following morning as expected. He had a 7:45 flight to catch and was allowed to catch the flight back home, with the results he had paid the mobile test unit the day before. The same test results  for which he was told was done by the wrong hospital, without his permission. The airline had no problem with the result and he was allowed  to board his flight to lagos the following morning after missing all his business meetings with is partners, without staying the mandatory 7 days that was imposed on me and my colleagues  Mr. Marfo (024-283-0423), Mr Boski  ([phone])  

Day 6. We were all called into the gym by Dr Isaac Nortey who made fun of me by saying “you wished I  set you free when your auntie (Dr Jennifer brown Aryea) called me eh. I snapped back at him and responded “ I don’t find anything funny about covid 19” He said I won’t joke with you then. At this point I had to pay a member of the hotel staff to clean my bed room  and bring up fresh bed sheets as no one was getting room service at all. not in the morning, afternoon or evening. All the nurse did was  blood pressure test and took temperatures at 6:00 am when we were fast asleep. It was to be assumed we all had the  air born disease. I asked why I had not been given any vitamins and was told I did not show any symptoms for covid 19. 

Day 7. On the last day I was giving my discharge papers without my test results. I left the hotel without paying the hotel bill which I had told  Dr Isaac Nortey I could not afford.  

Day 8. On April 27th late at night I received a text message on what’s app which read” Good evening sir, Please a follow up to check if you have settled your bills. I assumed it came from the hotel staff I had spoken to earlier in the day. 

Day 9. On April 28th at 7:00 am I responded. Greeting, thank you for the follow up. As discussed yesterday, pls refer the bill to Dr Isaac Nortey. He assured both me and my auntie I will be taken care. Thanks again for the hospitality. This was at 7:03 

At 7:10am my phone rang. It was a man who introduced him self as  Dr Aseadu. who says he works for the ministry of health. He informed me that I had 3 options when I was taking to Ga east, and  I choose cantonments. I told him I was not giving an option to receive accommodation at Ga east, which is  close to my apartment in Madina. He then dismissed my complains and pleaded  that I pay the hotel bill or I will be picked up by national security and embarrassed publicly in the national news paper. I called mr Marfo later in the evening to ask him if he has received his test results from Dr Isaac Nortey. He said I am so upset with him Gibril. He told me he received the results on an excel spread sheet with only serial numbers attached to the test results, and does not have time to look through and match the serial number to the individuals names. Let alone find the serial number to the specific person. Being that they process so many people, up to 80 in a day the probability of matching the serial number to the right individual is unlikely . So he needs time. 

Day 10.  I am writing this  before I turn my self in to the national security so the international, national and humanitarian community can witness what has happened. It appears I was never Positive for covid 19 and I have been a victim of a huge scam that provides profits for the people and hospitality organizations involved. People with negative covid 19 results are being deceived and forced into quarantine by Doctors in ghana who work on the behalf of the government in order to cus mental trauma and panic to the individual. As a victim I can confidently say my mental state from the moment I was told I was positive for covid 19 was unusual. By letting me think I was positive, I allowed myself to become very sad and succumb under the authority and instruction of Dr Isaac Noitey. I considered writing my last will and testimony in order not to pass interstate. I remained in my hotel room for long hours and refused meetings in the gym area. I was refused treatment and room service cleaning. I was not giving one tablet or  a vitamin c tablet for supplement which Dr Isaac Nortey  had  boxes on his table ever day he came to Midindi hotel. Every morning a nurse was sent to bang on my door to check my bloop pressure. After 4 days I realized my temperature was stable at 36, And my blood pressure 120/80 was also stable, which the nurse confirmed  was normal. I began to question the validity of my quarantine and the Kotoka hospital test result. 

I have been promised  a hotel bill of 3000 Ghc for 7 days. I paid for the first night thinking I would be allowed to take a second covid test and prove that I was covid negative , which was the outcome of my PCR tests before I left  Ethiopia just 5 hours before I arrived into Ghana. Unpun arriving in Ghana I had to pay for a second covid test which out 50$ for E.c.o.w.a.s members. After  the covid antigens result showed positive,  I was rushed in an ambulance to a hospital called Ga east, and since then after another government assisted test I have  not received any results from the doctors that work on behalf of the government. The unprofessional manner of this behavior is unacceptable. To the human being who is witnessing the mass death number in nations that are under severe covid attack, this is very saddening and makes me embarrassed to be Ghanian.  

We should not allow the profit gains that can be derived by falsifying covid test result to continue by our fellow Ghanian. If an airplane company and other governments allow for people to board planes with negative results, why inflict an addition cost onto the economic conditions on tourist and fellow Ghanian who want to come to ghana with a sound mind. After all have they not received affirmation of being negative before departing their origination to Ghana. If ghana is to become the gate way to Africa and the destination for the year of return why is our airport imposing difficult measure on people who are coming into ghana with a positive mental state and a positive covid test result? 

I hope I do not find myself sitting in a Ghanaian prison by national security after spending 17 years of my life in America, attending the best university pursuing my economic degree so I could one day return to make this country a great example for other African nations and nations around the world to look up to.   

To Dr Asiedu of the ghana ministry of heath. This afternoon I have decided to go and pay for a Covid 19 PCR test at East Legon. The hospital is called Leading Medical Laboratory, Accra - Ghana. I hope you all have good wishes for me and my family and the results come out negative. I will be happy to send you a copy of my test result . To the management of the Mindidi hotel, help me justify the bill for which we have all played a role in to some extent  as a result of lack of information, misinformation, corruption, mental frustration lead me into the hotel and further more into this embarrassing and ugly situation.   

Day 11. April 29th 2021.My covid test came back Negative. Allahu Akbar. Thank you.                                                            By Gibril Adedayo Hassan Mansaray

NB. Nobody will see this about his or her country and not be concerned. This is complete fraud vividly described. It's so heartbreaking.