#i’m always on my san is a duck agenda

[eonghwa]

it’s time to cry o’clock

#SAN È UNA PAPERA #it has to be said #san is just a cute lil duck and i’m here for it #i’m always on my san is a duck agenda #and seonghwa is just a lil strawberry #THE PRETTIEST STRAWBERRY #😭😭😭😭😭 #i love one (1) strawberry 🍓 #i love when seonghwa wears plain jeans #and i’m about to cry bc he looks so good #hdakdjjsksn HIS EYES PLEASE #IM BROKEN HE IS THE CUTEST LIL BEAN #these pics broke me on so many levels #san with glasses #💔 #ateez #seonghwa #san #park seonghwa #choi san #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #eonghwa.rambling

[wingz-of-shit]

I just love to think Petra is jealous of Hange, don’t you? Good day

Petra is such a sweet girl! I wouldn't say she is jealous of Hange, - not in canon anyway - because she's a soldier before all and her heart belongs to humanity. But yes - in my mind -, maybe has a crush on Levi. Anyway, let me revisit chapter 20:

Petra understands for the first time her captain's interest in the eccentric scientist.

***

He ducked his head to examine Eld. "I'm sure you're all aware but you may not ask him anything past what's in the report." He paused. Petra looked intently at her superior as he eyed each of them as a polite warning. The less Eren knew, the better.

"Although I doubt she'll keep her mouth shut."

The words stung an instant when Petra understood whom he was talking about. Of course, he'd be thinking of her. Even when there was no connection to the current matter. Eld and Oluo remained silent as Eren unavoidably asked who.

"She?"

As if Levi had summoned her there, a loud banging resonated in the dining wall which made Petra jump out of surprise, fear... and maybe disappointment. Hange San was a loud personage, some may say eccentric, others said her to be a mad scientist. Those were true enough. But what had caught Petra's attention was the unusual bond Hange San shared with her captain.

Petra had entered the Survey corps not long after him. She had observed nothing alike a relationship as far as he was involved. That's why she had allowed herself to have a crush on him. He was brilliant after all. Humanity's strongest. Cold and snappy all right, but deeply concerned for the well-being of others. The more years passed, the more she believed him interesting. And the more Hange San did too.

"Hi there, squad Levi!" the door was violently banged open. "Is the castle comfortable?" Petra saw Squad leader Hange entering the room with a vivid cheerful expression on.

"Her." Levi said nonchalantly, he seemed utterly annoyed by her presence. Though, Petra had seen enough of their relation to knowing it was just his usual face when she was around. The rest of the table had gone silent after her arrival and Petra couldn't make out the sense of the Squad leader's chatting. Not until she merely screamed her captain's name

"Levi! What's on Eren's agenda for tomorrow??"

"..." he looked up at her. "cleaning the yard."

"GREAT! Then it's settled!!"

Petra almost choked on her black tea. Had he not just - ? That was the thing Petra did not understand. Captain Levi was someone who followed the rules, who wanted things to be done correctly and efficiently. He liked when things were clean and where they belonged. She'd seen how easier it was for him to fight when the soldiers around him followed the orders. She'd seen how his routine was designed, meticulously tallied. This was everything she had sought to be when he chose her for his Squad. And this was everything Hange San was not. She did not understand.

Suddenly everyone was standing up. Why? She forced her mind back to the situation. "Well if you want to know that badly about titans..." the woman started. Ah, so they were there again, leaving because Squad Leader Hange had found a new target to bore. Petra had not heard her captain say anything, but he was leaving already.

And then she saw it...

Petra Ral had always suggested. She had always tried pretending. But she couldn't deny it anymore, could she?

Before Levi left the room, Petra saw him look over his shoulder. To her? No. To Hange San. His face was gentle, held something Petra didn't know. He nodded slightly, it almost seemed as if she had dreamt it. Then she turned to look at the pair still sitting at the table. Hange San was looking back, a faint blush on her face. And in a flash, it was gone, and they weren't looking at each other anymore. As quickly as it had come.

Petra knew then.

#levihan #Levi Ackerman #Hange zoe #petra ral #snk #aot

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine Pacho Sends You as a Gift to (Spy on) Amado 3/3

More smut (but I’m really bad at writing it, :////). Plot twist guaranteed. And I can’t believe I wrote 6K for this, FML. What has Chema done to me? I also made a few changes in the first two parts, read the whole thing on AO3.

You are woken by a phone call in the middle of the night. But you neither move nor open your eyes. You hear some numbers, Amado sounds irritated. It could be something related to tonight's dinner?

Your patience is wore out minutes after minute and Amado still hasn't returned to bed. You make a bold decision to wake up, and the Mexican is smoking by the window. Something keeps him up at night? That doesn't sound like the Lord of the Skies, the man who has had the world at his feet.

"You wanna talk, more sex or a bath?" You carefully propose.

"I was expecting for late night snacks you pull with some Asian witch shit." Amado lets you sit on his lap. "Hang on, I've got some leftovers from the kitchen."

You two settle for sharing the jacarandas mochi from a small food container in the bathtub.

"You like it?" You don't really need validation from Amado. It's just you spent hours coming up with the idea of improvisation, trying to make a traditional Japanese dessert more appealing to the Mexican guests. "I made the bean paste from scratch, less sugar. I understand most Mexicans are not used to sweet bean paste..."

"They don't deserve it." Amado suddenly claims. You don't get it. Who are they? "They are just a bunch of pigs in expensive suits, corrupted, stinky pieces of shit." Then Amado tells you almost everything. He invited the tequila exporters with the hope that the cartel could use their affiliate companies in the States as front to launder more drug money since tequila is one of the largest yet least regulated businesses between the US and Mexico. And the politicians are officials from Mexican Customs Bureau and SHCP.

"Fucking idiots. They thought I was gonna ask them to smuggle coke under the tequila crates. With all the fucking Pier 1 sofa and Ford pasenger seat manufacturers in Juárez, I've had more than enough trucks to move products across the border." When Amado brought up money laundering, the tequila exporters expressed concern regarding possible investigation of tax evasion from ATF, putting more pressure on Amado to increase their cut.

They eventually made a deal less favorable to the cartel and that's why Amado's a bit pissed when he's on the phone.

"Why are you telling me this?" For the first time that night, you ask softly.

"Those cabrón. They don't deserve what you bring to the table. You pour your heart and soul, making the best feast I've ever had. You deserve to know what happened." 

You've never thought you'd hear that from Amado. He didn't have to tell you anything. It makes you lower your guard. You want to get closer to him, without any agenda.

"Does this mean my body won't be put in the trunk of one of your auto collections tomorrow?" You try to lighten it up.

Amado kisses you from behind. The position is awkward but neither of you care. 

Making out with Amado in the bathtub makes the night better than your wettest dream. 

The Mexican's gonna make you cum again with those magician hands of his.

"You...haven't told me if you like the jacarandas mochi." You're so screwed. Maybe you'll never get the answer because Amado's too busy sucking you tits.

Amado clears his schedule the next day. He brings you to the Asian boutique where he bought the Japanese painting.

"One of my guys found this place. I thought you might be interested..." That's cute from a drug lord. But you're not that kind of person.

"A) I don't need a Buddha artifact home to find my inner peace, and B) only Pacho wears shirts with Chinese characters taken from a poem back in the Tang Dynasty. Seriously, he's ridiculous. Come on, let's go."

Instead, you two spend the day trying different Asian food you can find in DF. From hotpot to Peking roasted duck, from pho to char kway teow. Amado seems to enjoy the Chinese food more than others.

"Most Asian restaurants in North America are run by the Chinese, from San Francisco to DF. Since you guys can't tell if an Asian cook is from China, Japan, Vietnam or Thailand, he or she would quickly learn dishes from other Asian countries. We are always the most hardworking people." You explain to him.

"Oh, I love hardworking people." He's so full of shit but you can't help smiling. 

Amado finds a fortune cookie note saying "Happy New Year of Monkey." Then you explain Monkey is one of the Chinese zodiac signs which repeat every 12 years. 

"So 1956...I am a monkey? Cool." He's surprisingly quick with math.

You write the Chinese character of monkey on a napkin and Amado seems fascinated by it. So you suggest that he could get the Chinese character tattooed, "Next time you can show that to Pacho. He probably would get one, too."

Holy shit, he's really doing it. 

The way the tattoo parole Amado brings you to is cleared makes you believe it's part of the cartel business, which makes perfect sense. 

"You don't have any tattoos? Not at all?" You're surprised when the tattoo artist prepares Amado's skin on his forearm, first cleaning then shaving.

"We've fucked three times, once in a bathtub," Amado grins, obviously in a good mood, "Don't you think it's a bit late to ask? Or I fucked you too hard you didn't notice?"

Thank God the tattoo artist doesn't even flinch.

OK, you have to get back at the fucker. So when the tattoo artist asks you for the character to make a design, you write pig in Chinese instead of monkey.

"Hold on, that doesn't look like what you wrote on the napkin. Let me see it." Right after the tattoo artist places an outline of the design on his skin, the Mexican stops him.

You're 100% sure Amado doesn't speak or write Chinese. How the fuck does he figure it out?

"What is it exactly? Tell me the truth or you will have an honest conversation with my brother." Amado makes the threat more scary by pointing at Vicente, who stands next to the door with two guns and a pink lollipop. 

"Wait. He doesn't know shit. It was me...I wrote a different character." Your confession is quick, you don't want to see anyone get hurt over this beef.

You thought it's just a silly prank. Now you realize you're dealing with the most notorious narcos of the country. Amado may look like a businessman, reasonable, even decent. He's still capable of getting violent whenever he thinks it is necessary, to an extent you really don't want to know.

You take a deep breath, then apologize to Amado. You are ready for the consequence. 

"Apology accepted. On one condition, you'll have the exact same tattoo as I do when the new design is done." Fair enough.

But you're a chef who often needs to cook right in front of customers. You can't let them see a tattoo on your forearm. 

"How about here?" The Mexican is touching your breast as if no one's around.

It's a small tattoo, just one character. But it's near your heart and you're sensitive as fuck.

You can't move but your nipples are hard almost through the entire process. Amado's right beside you and he sees everything. Someone please help you ease the pain FFS.

The fucker doesn't act on it until you get into the car. Amado shuts the soundproof panel between the front and rear seats and the next thing you know, you're riding the man who just makes you get a stupid matching tattoo. It fucking stings, and itchy. Yet the pleasure is undeniable when your tits being teased, bit, sucked. Amado carefully avoids the tattoo, which makes you want him to scratch the itch even more. You scream his name when you cum with both extreme pleasure and pain.

Amado puts an arm around you when it's over. Two matching tattoos are right next to one another. Your heart is still beating fast from the afterglow, echoing his pulse.

You feel the caress on your beast, it hurts a bit yet the body warmth is nice. Is it how it feels to be marked by someone else? Not many people will ever see it, plus it's not a specific name or symbol that would embarrass you later. It'd be a secret.

"You know what? You won't be able to find a dead body to stand in for you when you eventually betray me, sweetheart. No one else would get a tattoo like this." 

What Amado just says feels like a kick in the stomach. It's cold and absolutely right. Have you been sloppy? Has Amado figured out something already? "Why would I betray you?" You ask, but he doesn't give an answer.

It's the last day of your stay. You have a very special package delivered from Japan.

You gonna make blowfish sashimi tonight for Amado.

Everyone knows it's toxic so it has to be handled with meticulous care. You make Amado watch every step —  a set of fuguhiki, knives with thin blade is unwrapped, you pick them one by one to gut the fish, remove the deadly liver and ovaries, skin it and cut off its head. Then instead of cutting outward like most people do, you turn a knife to cut inward. 

"Careful! You shouldn't hold knife like that." Amado almost jumps in to help. But you assure him it's OK. Then you show off the technique to cut extremely thin and translucent slices of blowfish.

To make the white meat more attractive, you set the slices in a large plate with red poppy flower pattern. They are so thin, the poppy flower is still visible when all's done.

"An ancient Chinese writer used to say, 'The taste of blowfish is worthy of death.'" You joke when you mix the sauce. "Don't worry. I'm a licensed blowfish-preparation chef."

Amado squints, "So you're testing me."

You want to tell him to just trust you, but you don't know how.

"There's no antidote for the tetrodotoxin. But I'll eat it, too. If it's poisonous, our muscle will be paralyzed bit by bit when we're fully conscious, eventually we won't be able to breathe. We're going to die slowly, painfully and desperately."

You take the first bite, Amado follows.

"Why are you so loyal to him?" Amado breaks the silence, "For one, you don't sleep with him. You obviously are not related. And as far as I know, money can't buy loyalty."

"I'll answer it if you answer my question first." The Mexican agrees. "You didn't want me for me, you barely knew me. You made the decision when Pacho said I was the best, he wouldn't last a week without me. You want him, or something that makes you his equivalent. Except being gay, I don't know. You won't fuck his boys, so I'm the next proxy. Am I correct?"

After a pause, Amado nods. Then it's your turn.

"How many female chefs do you know?" Amado is confused for a few seconds, then he gets it.

"There was no place for you in your line of work, just like there was no place for him in this game controlled by men, men who have multiple wives and fuck whores. He sees himself in you. So he takes you under his wings."

"Yes. Pacho is the only one who's believed me. He's also the biggest shareholder of my first restaurant."

Amado then asks what you gonna tell Pacho when you return. "I'll tell him you give really good heads. Maybe he should try it himself." You wink, "No, I'll let him know you're not a cold-blooded bastard. Even though you sometimes make awful choice by dipping sashimi in guacamole, you're appreciative of other people's work." You really mean it, you like Amado. But you'll probably never know if he buys it or if it matters.

After a while, you finish the whole plate of blowfish sashimi. "Seems we're not dead." Amado's poking your cheek with chopsticks.

"No, we are not."

"Last question, why did Pacho send you?"

"Amado, you would've done the same. You know that."

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera

[iamjjmmma]

“Number All My Bones: There and Back and There Again” Part 1, Chapter 4

Beginning: https://bit.ly/2NtGPgu

Previous: https://bit.ly/2H5dDej

Next: https://bit.ly/2tD9Q03

It’s only a taser; I know. I know the basics about these types of guns, although violence isn’t my main research preference. Still, I duck inside, my heartbeat still somewhat yelling at me, my head definitely yelling at me to get back to my work, that it’s probably just some sort of census. But the doorbell rang, and Papyrus immediately sprang out of his seat, with that golly-gee smile impressioned all over his face, and sprinted towards the door. Sans sprinted after him, and I after Sans, all of us except Papyrus seeming to remember the rule that no one was supposed to answer the door except for me. But the door opened before I could say anything, and there stood the one woman I would cry over just a few weeks later. Her name tag read “Ica Grey, Head of the Anti-Monster Department”, the “Jess” part obscured by a shadow for a little while, but I knew who she was. The streak of grey hair, the crossed arms, the badges on her blue dress told me everything. She was the one who had started the “MF” tag, the one who had started the monsters coming home without any sort of occupation, the one who had started the monster children not allowed to take the same classes as humans, the monsters being denied from the hospitals. The dehumanization process didn’t need to be done; it simply was, and it was since when we were born. My smile stretches until it turns taut. “Hello, Miss.” Her hand settles on her taser for a moment, but it stutters just before it settles by her side. “Hello, Doctor. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I nod. “I can say the same. Especially with your ‘MF’ endeavors. What does it stand for, though? I’ll take a wild guess. ‘Monsters Forbidden.’” She nods back, although I can practically see her teeth gritting. Her hand moves closer to the gun. Betty whimpers a little, and Sans and Papyrus hush the other children away before they get embroiled in the grown-up soup of politics and science. In another world, maybe I would have gone with them. But that world is faraway, much too far from now to even think of existing. Miss Grey put her hand by her hip. “Are we conducting the meeting or not?” I nodded, although I didn’t even think about giving her any more than that. I was prepared to send all of the children upstairs, thinking they went into the living room, but it was only Betty, reading a history book for her tutoring program, no doubt. I was about to say something, but one look at the scary lady behind me all in blue sent her tiptoeing away and making her way up the stairs. As we sat on the couches, the coffee in the pot cold by now after my morning cup, I made my move, even though I knew it wouldn’t work by a long shot. “Do you mind putting the gun away? I have four little kids here, and I don’t want them getting-” She laughed, ran her long fingernails through her hair once or twice. “Of course not. You’re the scientist, aren’t you? You should know by now that it’s only a safety precaution. Not that I’d willy-nilly fire at one of your kiddos, right?” I sighed, went into a conversation about geothermics I wouldn’t give to my students until it was May and the graduation caps were being shipped. I counted myself using the words “entropy”, “enthalpy,” “quasistatic”, “Carnot cycle”, and “calorimetry” at least twice each before she started to nod off before nearly bumping her nose on the edge of the couch. Science that would have gone over her head even if she had a fifty-foot mitt to catch it. She jerked herself up so quickly that she started falling forwards, and I almost stretched out my hands to catch her before she could regain her composure.“Well, Dr. Gaster, this was all very, very informative, but can you please focus on the effectiveness of your project?” I went into a slight smile. Finally. “Alright, Miss. The expansion of the Core will help to power our city by-” She put a hand over her mouth in mock shock, but I knew she was yawning underneath. A professor tends to notice these things easier. “So it basically makes our gas bills cheaper?” I laughed, and I almost put a hand over my own mouth. I shifted into a different language, one that politicians love to speak. “What-?! No. No, not at all. If the expansion is complete, you won’t even have to pay for electricity at all. Ever. And thanks to it, we’re starting to see a big change. Not only in the bills-” I stopped. I was getting a little preachy. I laughed again. Even if I was preachy, it wouldn’t ever stop me from loving the feeling. So I gave in when she asked how the Core worked. Just this once. “Well, it converts geothermal energy from the mountain to-” I couldn’t say “magical”, but there was another word for that. A word I could use. “-idiopathic energy by using the underground chambers. These chambers have magnets with turbines that allow the electricity to be transformed from idiopathic to-” She put her hand over her eyes, although I know they were closed underneath. “It converts electricity to heat.” “Oh, I see.” Huh. So she wasn’t asleep after all. “A non-polluting, unlimited, self-sustaining power source. Of course…” I stand up, and she puts her weight on her toes as if she’ll follow, but she stays right there where she is. People say I’m a good judge, even though I’m a better scientist, but in cases such as this, I can’t always pull out a clear verdict about someone. “...none of this would happen if you don’t sign the agreement tomorrow.” She nods, but puts her hand closer to her taser just in case. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.” “What do you mean that doesn’t mean anything? I’ve just explained an energy agenda that I doubt you’ll find anywhere else, and-” “That still doesn’t explain the rest of your kind.” “Are you-?!” “Yes, Doctor. I am. You think that just because you’ve made energy out of the dirt means that you haven’t come from it. You come up here and steal our jobs, steal our money, all because you think you’re better than the rest of us. You-” I stretched out my hand, reach for anything looking vaguely like a door handle to push. “Miss Grey, I didn’t say any of that-” “Oh, just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean it isn’t-” I saw her in the corner before I heard her. Betty had come back from upstairs, probably because of all the fuss we made down here, and was looking at me with some of the most terrified two eyes I’ve ever seen. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She didn’t bother me as I went over and patted Betty’s shoulder. Poor girl. Only a few minutes here, and already we’ve escalated beyond what I would ever think of doing if Jessica wasn’t… Jessica. “Betty, it’s alright. The both of us were just having a discussion, alright? It’s very important. So what I need for you to do is to go back upstairs and-” “Doctor.” “Just a minute. What I need for you to do is go back upstairs and tell the others that everything is fine. And even if it does escalate, I’m stronger than I look, huh?” I patted her shoulder again for good measure. “Doctor, please. You’re not talking to anyone.” “Miss, what do you mean I’m not talking to anyone? Betty’s right here, isn’t she?” Chara and Asriel have come back down, too. I suppose the conversation died just enough. “Isn’t she?” Chara shakes his head, while Asriel shrugs his shoulders. “She’s still upstairs playing puzzles with Papyrus. An’ I think she’s learning how to play chess, too.” I look to my right, and Betty’s gone. Anxiety can do more than you could ever imagine, I suppose. If it can keep me staying awake at night after a dream that only mildly alarmed me, it can do what it just did. Anxiety also kept me heading towards my room after Jessica left, after calling down the kids and getting Papyrus to help me fix a pizza and some chicken, telling them that dinner was probably right around the corner. And just as anxiety foretold, something’s wrong. One of my books on human-monster history has fallen on the floor, but even without any sort of education in physics, I can tell it doesn’t fall like that. It’s at least halfway across the room, my bookshelf still in place right next to the door, and when I picked it up, another eerie fact sent a chill down my spine, and I almost felt my coat shaking along with it. It was open only a few pages in towards the end. Experience has taught me otherwise. If books don’t fall flat on the covers, front or backs, it normally falls with the middle pages open and spread out. Meaning if it didn’t fall, someone had to have taken it. Was it Sans or Asriel or Betty or anyone being tutored by him, forgetting to pick it up after they’d left? Or was it Papyrus, who was trying to get his own little revenge for me not getting him the book at the library? Alright. Focus. It’s probably one of them. I put back the book, and I sighed, going out to fix myself another cup of coffee. Anxiety can do everything, I suppose.

#glitchtale #camila cuevas #glitchtale anniversary

[dreamykrimi]

Sweater Weather

A piece of my newest work The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074169

Shouto’s still battling his nerves over last night when Izuku invites him to eat lunch together that afternoon, but his anxiety is slightly allayed when the other boy agrees to take their food outside to the field where they usually spar. It’s quiet out here in the grass, and the weather is pleasantly warm.

“About last night,” Shouto begins, ice in his stomach. “Was that really okay? I know I’m more… affectionate first thing in the morning, and I didn’t mean to…” Hold you like I never want to let go? Jesus.

Izuku’s cheeks are alight with color, but his laugh crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Don’t worry so much, Shouto! I didn’t mind. It was nice…” Izuku’s huge green eyes look up at him through the curtain of his dark lashes, fluttering gently against his cheeks a few times. The pink below his freckles darkens when he leans forward and says, “I wouldn’t mind doing that again, either.”

Shouto’s throat goes dry, heart jack rabbiting against his ribs. He takes a sip from his straw to give himself time before replying, “You just want to use me for my quirk. I’m your human heater, aren’t I?”

And he thinks his brain might actually explode when Izuku winks at him, playful and teasing and curly hair and freckles and pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and grinning lips and oh god.

“You’re good for when it’s hot, too, I’m sure,” Izuku laughs at him.

This is new territory, he thinks warily. Dangerously close to flirting, if he were to put a name to it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says lowly, meeting the humor in his eyes with his own. He loves watching Izuku’s face light up at his challenge.

“Maybe after sparring you can show me. It’s been getting hotter and hotter out, I’ll probably need help cooling down…” Something in the way his voice dips just a bit, the flash of excitement in his eyes sends a thrill through his veins like adrenaline.

He’s not backing down, Shouto realizes, fingers fisting in the grass.

They’re borderline flirting and Izuku isn’t backing down.

“You’ll have to earn my generosity.”

And neither is he.

“Oh really?” Izuku guffaws, delighted by his cheek. “Well, I hope you’ll be kind to me, Todoroki-san,” he teases.

“We’ll have to see how you do.”

“I’m told that I make an excellent underdog.”

“You are… full of surprises,” Shouto says consideringly, but he can’t keep the smile from his voice.

“Do I surprise you?” Izuku tilts his head coyly, an eyebrow raised.

“Always,” Shouto says with feeling, meeting the sparks in his eyes with his own heat. Always . From the very beginning.

Strangely it’s this that seems to break Izuku from his burst of confidence, and he blushes brightly and severs their connection, looking away while chewing on his grin enticingly. He lets out a chilly breath, cut free from Izuku’s stare. He misses the eye contact, but gladly uses the time to watch Izuku’s bottom lip turn red under the worrying of his teeth.

They lapse into a pleasant silence. Their almost flirting, if he’s brave enough to hope, is electrifying, but this is more familiar to them. This is at the crux of their closeness, this quiet companionship and easy comfort. In a rare moment of fantasy, he lets himself imagine what it might be like to actually be with Izuku. There would be heat, certainly, and electric banter, but he thinks that it probably wouldn’t be too different from what they have now. He hopes, anyway.

Maybe one day Shouto will find the courage to ask if Izuku would let him hold his hand. Maybe he’ll even say yes.

Shouto lets his foot bump into Izuku’s where they’re stretched out in front of them in the grass and leans back on his hands. The earth is soft and sun warmed under his palms and he lets himself sink all the way down and feel the cool blades of grass tickle his neck. The sun is soft against his closed eyelids, and the breeze blows a piece of hair across his cheek until it tickles. Izuku’s fingers brush his face, callouses whispering over his skin and pushing his hair back soothingly.

This strange domesticated friendship they’ve tied themselves into is slowly becoming Shouto’s favorite part of every day, and honestly it scares him to consider how much of his happiness is tied to someone else. But then, happiness wasn’t even on his agenda until recently; it was more of a side note, something far in the future to look forward to somewhere between moving out and becoming a hero.

Izuku’s fingers are still in his hair and he thinks he might fall asleep to this, thoughts becoming sluggish in the humid heat and limbs feeling heavy. He’s just about there when Izuku lifts his head up gently and slides his leg underneath him so that he’s lying with his head in his lap. And this… this is even better, more intimate, so comfortable. He turns his face to press into the inside of one thigh and sighs deeply. Izuku’s fingers still in his hair momentarily before starting up again. He thinks he might be braiding it, but can’t find the energy to care when it feels so good.

Shouto drifts in and out of a dreamlike state, each time he surfaces the soft pulling of his hair and rhythmic motions are enough to drag him back under for a while longer. In the end, it’s quiet laughter and the slight jostling of the leg beneath his cheek that rouses him. His eyes are heavy as he squints against the sun, grumbling a bit until Izuku moves his head to lean over his and block the worst of the light blinding him. Now he’s looking into a freckled face and bright smile that are blinding in an entirely different way, something impish in the crinkle of green eyes pricks at his brain with suspicion.

Shouto digs the heels of his palms into his eyes before he sits up, savoring the last few moments of lying in Izuku’s lap. “Are you going to tell me what you did to put that look in your eye, or are you going to make me guess?” he says with gravel in his voice.

Izuku stifles a giggle and Shouto glares over his shoulder at him. He can’t maintain any kind of irritation when faced with the unabashed mirth shining at him, but he can pretend. “What?”

Izuku presses his lips together to smother a grin and opens his phone up. He turns the screen to face him and the camera app shows him that his hair has been done up in dozens of short french braids against his head, red and white woven together across the part in his hair, and he wonders how on earth he’d gotten them to stay without hair ties. His own shocked expression is captured when Izuku clicks a picture.

Shouto blinks owlishly for a moment, sending Izuku into a fit of wild laughter.

“You’ve turned me into a desert topping.” Izuku whoops from the ground next to him. “And then you took a picture….” he looks at the boy rolling in the grass with something between admiration and distaste. “I guess this means you want to die.”

He’s not sure what exactly he plans to do when his arm snaps out to grab Izuku, but the other boy gives a startled yip and rolls away before he can reach him and they both rush to get to their feet.

His legs still halfway asleep, Shouto stumbles a bit over himself, losing his balance and his heart leaps into his throat as the world tilts for a moment. He tries to right himself but then Izuku surges forward to catch him around his waist, supporting his weight easily and they’re nose to nose, both of their wide eyes close enough that he can almost feel his eyelashes brush his. He’s… being dipped… like a dancer.

“Caught you, Shouchan,” Izuku says breathlessly, and he can feel the air displace against his mouth like a suggestion of a kiss.

“S-Shouchan…?” He can’t believe that’s the first thing out of his mouth, and winces.

Izuku just laughs at him. “Yeah, well, you said I could give you a nickname didn’t you?” His sturdy arm tightens around Shouto’s waist. “You’re lighter than I thought you’d be…” his voice is wistful, and Shouto’s heart is in his throat for an entirely different reason now. “I bet I could…”

Shouto absolutely does not yelp when Izuku sweeps him off his feet and scoops him into his arms to hold him in a bridal carry.

“Ah! You are light!” Izuku is grinning from ear to ear, a devilish glint in his eye as he starts to spin around. Shouto tucks his legs and wraps his arms around Izuku’s shoulders as gravity pulls at him until his toes tingle and he feels lightheaded and giddy. spinning faster and faster, his breath bubbles out of him until he’s almost giggling, and their laughter is mixing in the air until Izuku stumbles under their combined weight and tips to the side.

They both give a startled shout as Izuku turns to take the brunt of the fall and Shouto feels the impact through his chest.

He’s dizzy and a little sea sick, but it would take much more than that to stop his belly laugh. Tears prick his eyes and Izuku’s chest is heaving beneath him, panting and shaking with his own hysterical laughter.

“Sorry Shouchan, I couldn't,” he puffs, “I couldn't laugh and hold us up at the same time.”

They take deep breaths, and Shouto drops his head down to rest his forehead against Izuku’s collarbone, trying to catch his breath. The arms around him stay firm, one around the small of his back, the other across his shoulders.

“I was going to ask you,” Izuku says between labored breaths. “If I could hold you like this.”

He huffs a little laugh and keeps his head ducked so that Izuku can’t see him blush. “It’s only fair,” he pants.

Anything, he thinks, as Izuku’s fingers start tugging his hair free from their braids, combing through the tangles and smoothing it down one piece at a time.

#tododeku #fic #Sweater Weather #The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #AO3 #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #my hero academia #fluff

[carolina-bleus]

June 27, 2016 (Day 2)

Michonne’s eyes gently fluttered open. Not fully awake, she looked around the room momentarily confused about where she was. But the sounds and smells of the ocean wafting through the open terrace door brought it all back to her. Michonne smiled and stretched her arms languidly above her head. While she brought her right arm down, the left remained outstretched as she moved her hand this way and that, catching the sparkle of her wedding rings in the early morning sun. Her smile grew even bigger looking at the visual reminder of what happened a mere two days ago.

“Are you gonna do that every morning, Mrs. Grimes?”

Michonne brought her arm down and looked over to see Rick leaning in the doorway of their bedroom watching her intently.

“I’m going to do it about as often as you call me Mrs. Grimes.”

Rick walked into the room and joined his wife on the bed. “Well, you are going to have one tired arm then because I plan on calling you Mrs. Grimes every chance I get.” He leaned over and gave Michonne a kiss. He deepened it and started sliding his wife back on the bed before he caught himself.  He leaned his forehead against his Michonne’s and whispered, “Good morning, Mrs. Grimes,” softly against Michonne’s lips.

“Good morning, Husband.” Michonne pulled back and looked at Rick. “What are you doing up and out of bed so early this morning?”

“I was looking through some of the resort brochures. I figured you’d want to see something other than the inside of our suite on the second full day of our honeymoon.”

Michonne looked at Rick as if he’d suddenly lapsed into Swedish. Unable to hold her stare, Rick quickly looked off elsewhere.

Rick and Michonne had flown from their reception directly to the island resort honeymoon that had been a gift from Rick’s parents. After the couple arrived in the late evening and took a brief nap to restore their energy from their wedding festivities and the plane ride, they managed to make love on just about every surface of their expansive presidential suite. They managed a repeat performance the following day before falling into a satisfyingly exhausted sleep just a few hours earlier.

“Rick, it’s our honeymoon. Spending ninety-nine percent of it naked and writhing is sort of expected.”

“Naked and writhing?” Rick shifted on the bed.

Michonne shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, I downloaded a whole bunch of erotica to read on the flight over. I’m in vacation, and more importantly, honeymoon mode. I don’t want to read anything with any educational value whatsoever during the next two weeks. Plus, I figured I could get some new ideas for us to try out while we’re here.”

“Michonne, what has gotten into you?”

“I was hoping you would be right about now, but, apparently, you are on a sightseeing kick. So what did you have in mind?”

Rick’s mouth opened and closed several times, completely at a loss for words after Michonne’s statements. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths while continuing to try and find a comfortable position on the bed. When he finally got himself together, he continued. “Well, San Juan is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the Americas. And as a history buff and future professor, I can’t pass up the chance to visit Old San Juan. I actually had the concierge book us for a walking tour this morning.”

“Riiiiiick...” Michonne started to protest.  

“Before you give me that face, it’s a food and history tour of Old San Juan.”

Michonne narrowed her eyes in interest. “Go on.”

Rick smiled, knowing that he had his wife’s attention. “We will walk all over Old San Juan with a tour guide. Throughout the walk, we are going to stop at several restaurants and get a taste of the local cuisine,” Rick paused for effect, “including the sweets.”

Given the way her eyes lit up, Rick knew that sealed it for Michonne and her incredible sweet tooth.

“Babe, sweets really should have been your lead in to this entire thing. What time do we have to be there?”

Rick smiled in relief. “The resort arranged for a car to be downstairs for us at 10:30. The tour starts this morning at 11 and we’ll be done by two this afternoon. Then we can just go to the beach or relax by the pool for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Michonne got out of bed to get ready.

Rick watched enthralled as his wife strolled gloriously naked to the ensuite bathroom. He winced just a little at the slight hitch in her walk.

Before entering, Michonne looked over her should at Rick. “We have exactly two hours and sixteen minutes until we have to meet the car downstairs. I say we put at least two of those hours to good use, starting with the massive shower in this bathroom. Unless, of course, that isn’t on the agenda for today. I could just--”

Despite a moment of hesitation, Rick was undressed and making his way to the bathroom before Michonne could finish speaking.

The tour turned out to be better than either Rick or Michonne could have imagined. There was great food, an extremely knowledgeable tour guide, and amazing company in their fellow tourists. Rick was in history heaven and Michonne was in foodie heaven. The only thing that bothered Michonne was Rick’s interaction with her...or rather the lack thereof.

He was very attentive as usual to how she was feeling. He kept asking if the walking was too much and if she wanted to duck out of the tour early. That puzzled Michonne because she was very physically active back home, so the extended walking was not a problem. But while Rick was in touch with Michonne emotionally, being in touch with her physically was another story.

After their very extended good morning shower, Rick had barely touched his wife. It actually felt to Michonne as if he was going out of his way to avoid touching her. Michonne knew Rick was never one for more than the usual amounts of PDA, especially in front of strangers, but something about his behavior was still off. Michonne felt Rick watching her throughout the tour, but he’d avert his eyes whenever she turned his way. And he’d almost walked into a wall watching Michonne lick a cone of specialty ice cream they got at one tour stop. He was acting as he did before they started dating, when he liked her but was afraid to show it. Michonne decided to not make an issue of it during the tour. But she was going to tackle the issue in her own special way when they got back to the resort.

On the ride up to their suite, the couple found themselves alone in the elevator. Michonne turned to face Rick and put her arms around him. He immediately stiffened.

Michonne looked up and kissed Rick’s cheek. “The tour was amazing. Thank you for arranging it.”

“Umm, it was no problem. I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it. You are always thinking of what I like.” Michonne bit her bottom lip. “How about I return the favor.” Michonne walked Rick backwards until he had an elevator wall pressed against his back and Michonne pressed firmly against his front.

“Uh, Michonne, we shouldn’t be doing this. We are in an elevator and there are cameras and...” Rick’s words of protest dissolved into moans as Michonne sucked just the right spot on his neck. He’d just reached down to cup his wife’s behind when the elevator stopped. The sudden dinging and opening of the elevator doors pulled Rick and Michonne out of their sensual haze. Thankfully, there was no one waiting to get on the elevator, so the couple quickly exited and made their way to their suite.

Once inside their suite, Michonne hoped to continue what they started in the elevator, but Rick’s earlier reserve was back in place.

“Babe, let’s go down to the beach or the explore the grounds. We could get some great pictures to take back home.”

“You want to go to the beach to take pictures...right now? That seems very hard to believe.” As she said the word “hard”, Michonne looked pointedly down at her husband’s crotch. Apparently, it missed the “going to the beach memo” and had another activity in mind.

Rick couldn’t hold Michonne’s stare for very long. He eased his hands in front of his crotch. “Uh, yeah. Why don’t I go on and get dressed so I can go stake out a spot for us? I’ll find us a nice spot by the pool. I’m just going to take a quick shower first.” Rick rushed into the bedroom.

Michonne heard the bathroom door slam shut. The shower came on soon after. Her hunch confirmed, Michonne now knew exactly what Rick’s problem was. And she knew just how to solve it.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief as he waited on a poolside lounge chair for Michonne. Avoiding his wife was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But it was for the best right now.

I can make it through the rest of the day. I can make it through the rest of the day. I can make it through—Oh shit!

Rick’s hopeful mantra was interrupted at the sudden appearance of Michonne. She gave him a smile as she placed some items on the little table between their chairs. When Michonne moved beside him and removed her short bathing suit coverup, Rick knew that all hopes of making it through the day were destroyed. I am fucked, he thought.

Michonne had on a black and white bathing suit that showcased her physique. The black straps were strategically placed to cover her breasts while leaving her beautiful midriff on display.

“You like it Rick? I got it back in March when the girls and I went into the city to get my wedding lingerie. You remember that, right?”

He definitely remembered. The mention of the March shopping trip immediately took Rick’s mind back to the lake house and the performance Michonne put on for him that night. What had started off as a been a little fashion show soon turned into a full-on strip tease. His mouth suddenly dry, Rick signaled to a waiter passing by.

“Could you bring me a large glass of very icy water.” He turned to Michonne. “Babe, would you like something to drink?”

“Do you guys have ‘Sex on the Beach’?” Michonne asked the waiter.

“Yes, ma’am, we do.”

“I’d very much like that, please,” Michonne stated while looking Rick directly in his eyes.

“Coming right up.” The waiter nodded at the oblivious couple before heading off to place their orders.

Michonne sat down and rumbled in her beach bag. She handed a bottle to Rick. “Babe, do you mind rubbing some sunscreen on my back? You know how hard it is to reach. Make sure you get under the straps of my suit. The material is thin.” Michonne turned her back to Rick.

Rick moved to sit behind Michonne on her chair. He squeezed out some sunscreen and then began to carefully rub his hands on his wife’s exposed back. He bit his lip to keep from making a sound at how good it felt to touch her.

“Don’t forget to get under the straps,” Michonne reminded him.

“Yeah.” Rick added more sunscreen and then moved his hands underneath the wide straps of Michonne’s bathing suit. When he reached her side, the waiter returned with their drinks. Michonne turned to thank the waiter. The action caused Rick’s hand to come into full contact with one of her breasts. His hand naturally flexed and squeezed when Michonne’s nipple brushed against his palm.

The waiter thankfully missed the display as he placed the couple’s order down. Rick flushed and removed his hand as subtly...and slowly...as possible.

Once the waiter was gone, Rick addressed his wife. “Shit, I’m sorry, Michonne. I didn’t mean to do that. It just sort of happened.”

Michonne leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I guess your hands miss being on my body as much as I miss having them there.”

“What?!”

“Rick, you have gone out of your way to not touch me at all today. Other than in the shower this morning...which you were initially hesitant about, I’ve had to initiate contact with you. What is going on? You could barely keep your hands off of me when we got here.”

“And that’s the problem!” Rick exclaimed. He leaned closer to his wife and lowered his voice. “Michonne, I don’t know what’s going on with me. It’s like ever since the wedding, I’ve wanted you every second of the day. We literally made love everywhere in our suite and didn’t leave it for twenty-four hours straight and I still wanted you as soon as I woke up this morning. I had to get out of bed to keep from reaching over and waking you up.”

“I would have welcomed you waking me up to make love, Rick. I really don’t see the problem.”

“Did you see how you were walking this morning? If we keep it up, you are going to be as bowlegged as me,” Rick lamented.

Michonne really wanted to laugh at Rick’s statement, but she knew her husband was serious and genuinely distressed so she swallowed her mirth.

“Rick, I’m fine. If there had been a problem, I never would have agreed to go on that walking tour today. And I’m glad you want me all the time. We’re on our honeymoon. There would be a real issue if you didn’t want me naked every chance you could get.”

“You don’t get it, Michonne. Something happened when I put that ring on your finger. It’s like every time I see it on your hand, I want to find somewhere secluded and just...” Rick shook his head in frustration. “It just feels wrong and very dude-bro to get all worked up seeing a symbol that shows you’re my wife.”

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with that at all...especially when I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I love seeing that wedding band on your finger. I don’t think it’s a possessive thing, just a symbol of our love and commitment to each other. Knowing that we are going to be together for the rest of our lives...that you chose me and I chose you to make that lifelong commitment...it just does something to me.” Michonne shrugged. “I think that’s natural and this is all so new to us. We just got married two days ago.”

“Do you think it will wear off once get back home and settle into marriage?”

“I certainly hope not,” Michonne joked.

“Michonne. We can’t make love every chance we get once we get back home. We’ll either both flunk out of school or you’ll end up pregnant during law school.”

That brought Michonne up short. “I’m not worried about us flunking out. We are both too smart for that, but we absolutely cannot get pregnant during grad school. Can you imagine how much harder everything will be?” Michonne shuddered at the thought before bringing her attention back to Rick. “Babe, honeymoon mode and school mode are two completely different things. We’ll find a happy medium between the two once we get back home.”

“So, we’ll find our marriage mode?” Rick asked hopefully.

“Yeah, something like that.” Michonne smiled at her husband. “Now, that you realize I’m not broken and you aren’t a sex fiend, are you okay with touching me again?”

Rick reached out and caressed Michonne’s face. “Absolutely.” He regarded her swimsuit. “Was this swimsuit some sort of sexy intervention for me?”

“Actually, yes. I was going to pull this bad boy out later in our trip, but I thought it would be put to better use now. Do you like it?”

Rick nodded. “I do. And I’ll like it even better when it’s off. You want to get out of here and make up for lost honeymoon mode time?”

“Rick, remember you caved this morning. It’s only been a few hours since we last made love.”

“Actually, it’s been five hours and fifteen minutes. That’s the equivalent of a day and a half in honeymoon time.”

“Well, you are certainly ready to get back on the horse.”

Rick ran his eyes up and down his wife’s body. “I think we are both ready for a ride, don’t you?”

Now Michonne had a dry mouth. She grabbed Rick’s water off the table and took a big gulp. “Okay, we can go, but I want you to get a picture of me in my suit first. I got a text from my mother right before I came down here. She was complaining about not hearing from us. We’ll take a couple of pictures of us smiling and send them and some from the tour to our family and friends. That should get them off our backs for a couple of days.”

“Okay.” Rick looked around. “We go over there so I can get the beach in the background.”

Once Michonne was situated, Rick said, “Alright, think of something good.”

“Something good like what?” Michonne asked with her hand posed on her hip.

“Think about how I’m about to have you walkin’ like a cowboy for the next two weeks.”

Michonne burst out laughing at Rick’s words. She turned her head away to get her laughter under control before taking the picture. Rick decided that was the perfect shot to take.

 @richonnefics

#RichonneMarriedLife #Richonne #a year in the married life #richonnefics

[a-monthly-rumbelling]

The Empathy Exercise

Submitted by @darcyfarrow2005

A/N. For #amonthlyrumbelling for March.  Part II of “The Couples Retreat.” Rated T. Archie’s next challenge for the couples is to walk a mile in each other’s shoes.

Intermission

It didn’t escape Archie’s notice that immediately following the Communication Exercise, as everyone flopped down on the furniture to rest, seating positions changed: Snow and David huddled in conversation, elbow-to-elbow on the couch; Belle and Rumple had confiscated the love seat and were holding hands, glancing at each other in between watching Archie patiently for further instructions; and, having lost their former seat, Hook and Emma had assumed the wingback chairs. They, like the Golds, were watching him and waiting for more, though Emma’s foot was jiggling and Hook’s eyes were narrowed in thought. Archie relaxed in the desk chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his body language signaling no urgency to move on to the next program. This in itself was a small test, to see who would break the silence first, and how: his money would have been on David—as a leader by nature as well as marriage, he would likely want to move the agenda along—except that jiggling foot of Emma’s suggested either impatience or nervousness, and she was very much her father’s daughter.

But a squeaking floorboard and a rumbling service cart undercut the silence and Ruby, eyes fixed firmly on the sideboard set up near the desk, pushed into the room, and that woke Hook from his reverie. Pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip, he watched Ruby unload a tray from the service cart and arrange the cups, coffee pot and tea pots prettily on the sideboard. As she’d promised Archie, she resolutely avoided eye contact with the couples: she’d been informed in advance how many guests to expect, and who, so that she could provide for their dietary preferences, but she had promised to ignore anything that was said or done in this room, lest she might be tempted to share her observations with her friends or family. This was a bit of test for her too: she’d been struggling to break her gossip habit.

As Ruby and her service cart vacated the room, Hook released his lip and his breath. “All right, Doctor. What’s the right answer?”

Archie raised an eyebrow. “Answer to what, Captain?”

“That exercise you just had us do. The communications exercise.”

“There is no ‘right’ answer,” Archie replied. “Just a chance for each of you to see what works and what doesn’t in how you communicate with each other.”

“Aw, come on,” Emma groaned. “I don’t buy that.”

“Neither do I. Life is a contest. People win, people lose. So what was the right answer?” Hook leaned forward, studying Archie for any indication of surrender.

The psychiatrist shrugged slightly. “There are as many ‘right’ answers as there are ‘right’ relationships. What matters is how you interacted with each other, and how you felt about how your significant other interacted with you.”

“I still think we won, because I had fun.” Hook sat back, as best he could in the straight chair. “How about you, love?”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I have to say I did too.”

“I feel pretty good about how ours went,” David commented. “I mean, it took a little persuasion, but Snow gave me the tiara. That shows trust.”

“I’ve trusted you with my life,” Snow reminded him, linking her arm through his. “Many times.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, you have. And my life’s been in your care time and again too.”

“We always find each other.”

Archie spoke gently. “And you, Belle? How do you feel about the outcome of the exercise?”

“Well.” She glanced at Rumple, blushing. “I guess we messed it up. We kind of got distracted.”

“But it still feels as though we won something bigger,” Rumple said, bringing her palm up to his lips to kiss.

Archie nodded, smiling at them, then smiling at the others. “If you’re all happy with the outcome, I’m happy. I will mention, though, a point that seemed to have escaped everyone’s notice. I told three of you to hold an object tight, and the other three were supposed to take that object. That was the extent of the rules. There was nothing to stop the takers from simply asking for the object, and the givers to simply release it.”

“So a ‘please’ would’ve been enough,” Snow surmised.

“Yes.” Archie stood. “A couple has enough to contend with from the outside world. You need not manufacture conflict within the relationship.” He waved a hand toward the sideboard. “Something to think about: marriage is a lot easier if it’s approached as a team sport, not a tug-of-war. Coffee break time.”

He stood aside as he watched the couples react to his small announcement. “Your usual, dear?” David rose from the couch and held a hand out to Snow, helping her up; hand in hand they made their way to the sideboard and he prepared her a cup, first with two teaspoons of cream, then the coffee, and finally a teaspoon of sugar. Meanwhile, as she prepared his cup, though she tried to be stealthy about it, her eyes roamed the room, in search of something. Archie was puzzled at first, but he caught the words “Neal” in their quiet conversation and that tipped him off: Snow wanted a phone so she could call Ariel and check on the baby. But all the couples had agreed there would be no routine phone calls this weekend, or any other distractions from the outside world, and they’d surrendered their cell phones last night with little complaint after he’d reassured them that the babysitters and the deputy dwarfs could reach them through his phone if there were an emergency.

Archie saw David stroke Snow’s arm reassuringly as he handed her her coffee. The father of two was just as nervous as his wife about leaving their six-month-old for the first time, and Archie couldn’t really blame them: after all, their son had been kidnapped less than an hour after his birth. Even with Snow’s former Royal Guard out there patrolling the streets and Regina’s sensors wide open for any magical disturbance, the citizens of Storybrooke had learned the hard way that the worlds were full of power- or revenge-seeking miscreants. The Nolans were right to worry, and in fact since Neal’s kidnapping they’d adjusted their work schedules so that one of them could always be home with the baby.

Which was why this weekend was necessary for them, to give them time together—and time to rest.

Their hands tucked into each other’s back pockets, Emma and Hook strolled over to the coffee service and filled their plates with finger sandwiches and macaroons. Well fortified, they chatted a bit with the Nolans, Hook getting his future in-laws to laugh at some toned-down but still salty jokes. When their plates were empty, they wandered over to the french doors and pushed them open to admire the (magically) blooming garden. A breeze carried their laughter back throughout the deep room.

Archie pursed his lips as he watched them. Emma needed the laughter. She’d carried a tremendous burden on her young shoulders ever since she arrived in Storybrooke. Leaning against the door jamb, Hook appeared, as always, at ease and confident, but Archie knew a different story. Avoidance and denial were Hook’s burdens: responsibilities he’d ducked, guilt he hadn’t yet accepted but needed to, if he were to deal with his past. His charm was a much-needed ice breaker for him and Emma, but they both had a long way to go before they could match the level of trust and understanding that her parents enjoyed.

The doctor shifted his gaze back to the sideboard, where Belle, nibbling nervously on a cucumber sandwich, cast those same searching eyes about the room. Recognizing the look, Snow touched her elbow and spoke lowly; though Archie couldn’t make out what was said between them, he noticed the tension release from Belle’s shoulders. Nodding, the librarian reached for another sandwich. Archie was pleased to see her eat: the spell that had accelerated her pregnancy had taken a toll on her body, and his first prescription for her, when she and Gold came to him for counseling, was to place her on a restorative diet. Though Mr. Dove and his wife (both over 6-foot-2 and trained in three forms of hand-to-hand combat) were babysitting Gideon and Gold had placed impenetrable wards around the pink house (Regina had thrown her worst magic at them to test their strength), Belle felt the same insecurity as the Nolans. Archie had encouraged the two families to spend time together, under the guise of play-dates for their babies: trauma survivors could help each other in ways that no doctor could. He’d expected the reclusive Rumplestiltskin to balk at the recommendation, but surprisingly, he’d put up no resistance. He’d even brought over a bottle of Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia ($200 Archie had learned from an Internet search) to the first meeting, to accompany Snow’s potato salad and David’s fried chicken.

Gold was trying, genuinely trying, even in their counseling sessions, though he had to pull the words from his gut, speaking slowly and precisely. Archie appreciated that and had hope for them. Belle, too, had begun to rebuild her trust in Gold when in their first session,she had learned what his truthfulness cost him, physically; pressing his hand against his temple, Gold had admitted that the Dark voices filling his head sometimes made speaking difficult. Concerned, Archie had applied a blood pressure cuff and reported the result to them both: Gold’s blood pressure had jumped from its normal rate of 120/80 to 140/90. From that point on, Archie began and ended every session with a blood pressure check and steered the conversation onto safer ground when he noticed signs of pain in his client.

And he was trying now. Though he’d long envied David’s youth and muscular good looks, he had gone over to the prince and started what was for him, a casual conversation: something about the best breeds of dogs for a household with small children. Gold even smiled a little as David recalled his own childhood pet.

This was just what Gold needed: plain, ordinary, garden-variety socializing. And maybe, someday, friends.

Archie had hope for all these couples. He had faith in the strength of each of them, regardless of where their relationships might take them: they’d been tested by fire, over and over again, and had come out strong as steel. After five years of mending curse-broken families, he had faith in himself, especially when he felt the power of True Love driving his efforts. And he had confidence in Storybrooke as a nurturer for these families: the community had rebuffed the worst that its enemies could throw at it and had come out wounded but recovering.

Archie clapped his hands. “All right, everyone, let’s resume.”

—————————————————————–

Chapter 2: The Empathy Exercise

“Whatcha got next for us, Doc?” His arm draped around Emma’s shoulders, Hook urged her away from the french doors and back to her wingback chair. He dragged his own chair alongside hers and dropped down, his booted feet stretched out before him. The other couples resumed their seats as well.

“One of the biggest challenges each of you face is that, although you’ve faced down many, many threats together, as couples–”

“Cora,” Snow blurted.

“George,” her husband growled.

“Jeckyl and Hyde,” Hook contributed.

“Zelena,” Belle spat.

Casting a hasty glance at Belle, Emma put in, “Gideon. Sorry, Belle.”

His jaw tightening, Gold corrected, “The Black Fairy.”

Emma nodded. “Yes. She was the real enemy.”

“Although you’ve faced down many threats together, as couples and as a community,” Archie continued, “and that has helped you to forge strong bonds in your relationships, you are, individually, very, very different from each other. Different educational backgrounds, different economic backgrounds, different social ranks, growing up in different lands, even in different generations. We are shaped in large part by those backgrounds, and they influence our world view, shape how we react to situations and how we respond to each other.”

“Are you saying we’d be better off if we’d pick mates that we have stuff in common with?” Emma wondered.

“Not ‘better off,’ Emma; just that for couples that have similar backgrounds, it’s easier to share a point of view. When a couple has more differences between them than similarities, you may have to work a bit harder to understand each other. Over time, as you come to know each other better, you’ll be better able to predict how your spouse will react to certain events; you may even come to know why he reacts the way he does. But to be able to feel what he’s feeling, to truly empathize with him, that will strengthen your bond to the point where it’s unbreakable. As it’s been said,” Archie tilted his head in recognition toward Belle, “’You can’t know what’s in a person’s heart until you truly know them.’ And to do that, you need to walk a mile in his shoes.Unfortunately, we have only our imaginations and our knowledge of our significant other’s lives to go on, and so I have a writing exercise that we’ll try next–“

Emma interrupted, “No, that’s not exactly right.  I mean, we have two magic people here, and there is such a thing as, uh, what do you call them, Gold? That spell when Cora made herself look like Archie?”

Gold’s mouth tightened. “Glamour spells.”

Archie shuddered, remembering. “Ah, yes, well… .”

Snow raised an eyebrow. “Emma, are you suggesting that we use magic so we can literally walk in each other’s shoes?”

“I don’t know about that,” David shook his head. “Magic usually causes more problems that it solves.”

Hook rested his hand supportively on his fiancee’s knee. “Well, I for one wouldn’t mind, if it’s just for an afternoon, being Emma. If I must become a woman for a day, I can think of no other I’d rather be than the bravest and loveliest in the land.”

Emma butted her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Killian.”

“Just what would this entail?” David asked. “I mean, from what I understand, Cora just–” he waved his hand across his body, “made herself look like Archie.”

“And Regina and Henry and who knows how many other people,” Snow muttered.

“She didn’t actually become them. Did she?”

Five heads turned toward Gold for the answer. He squirmed. “It depends on what you mean by ‘become.’ Obviously, the mind and the soul do not change. Nor, in reality does the body change. What the magic changes is solely the outward appearance of the body. It’s a very complicated spell and quite draining for the sorcerer who attempts it.”

“But you have, right?” Emma prodded.

“Yes. Though I prefer not to.” He cast a guilty glance at Belle.

“You’re good at it, right? As good as Cora?”

“I taught her how it’s done. She perfected the skill with much practice.”

“You could do it for us?” Snow asked. “Make me look like David, and him like me?”

“Do you have enough magic to change all six of us?” David asked.

“Or I, like, added some of my power to yours–” Emma volunteered.

“That would not be necessary. But understand, it’s not a transference, simply a mass illusion. A Los Vegas trick that acts on the eye of the beholder. Your thoughts and feelings are still your own. This won’t achieve the empathy Archie is talking about.”

“No.” Archie rubbed his chin. “Clearly not. I doubt if Cora gained any understanding of her victims’ beliefs and emotions by taking on their appearance. But it could be a single step in your spouse’s shoes.”

“How?” David queried.

“If you walked around town, interacted with people who assumed they were talking to the person you appear to be, you could get a sense of what that person goes through. What the community wants from them, what they expect of them.”

“What it’s like to be the savior,” Emma said with a note of bitterness.

Hook snorted, “Or an ex-pirate when nobody wants to believe the ‘ex’ part.”

Snow glanced over at David. “Or a prince who’s expected to fight everyone’s battles for them.”

He smiled a little in sympathy. “Or a queen who’s expected to always have the right words to soothe over every argument.”

Archie raised his eyes directly to Gold’s. “I think it could be especially insightful for those of you who have been marginalized in this community.”

“So you’re on board,” Hook surmised. “Who else is with us?”

David shrugged. “I’m up for it, I guess, as long as it’s just a couple of hours. I’ve always wondered what it feels like, that connection Snow has with birds.”

Snow rolled her eyes. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind either, as long as you can guarantee it’s temporary. It might be fun to be tall and charming for a day.”

“So that’s four,” Emma counted. “What about you, Belle? You haven’t said anything. Would you like to have magic for a day?”

“That wouldn’t happen,” Gold corrected. “Nothing is transferred with this spell. Hook wouldn’t gain your powers, nor would you suddenly know how to pilot a ship or acquire a thirst for rum.”

“Could you give her a little magic, though, so she’d get more of the Rumplestiltskin experience? Like that charm you gave Henry to wear when he was under the sleeping curse. A little magic Belle could draw on.”

“It… might be wise,” Archie said thoughtfully. “Some magic she could summon if she needed protection… .”

“From any of my enemies she might encounter,” Gold spat. “Yes, I suppose it would be wise.”

“Maybe you could put controls on it,” David suggested. “ No accidental magic, like ‘I wish you’d shut up’ and then the other guy’s tongue disappears.”

Snow added, “And a time limit, so any magic she casts would wear off after an hour.”

“It would be a useful aid, since magic is such a big part of who you are,” Archie said.

“We have not yet heard Belle’s opinion on the matter,” Gold pointed out. “I will not cast this spell or any other upon her unless she wishes it.” His voice dropped as he turned to her. “Ever again.”

“Thank you, Rumple.” Belle sat back on the loveseat, her hands folded as she considered the idea. No one pushed her for a hasty answer. At length, she said hesitantly, “Because magic has been a matter of contention between us, and because my son was born with it, it would be helpful, I think, if I could experience it, just temporarily. But, Rumple, will having magic, even for just an hour or two, change me permanently?”

“You mean, will it corrupt you?” He winced.

She bent her head. “When I held the dagger, I was changed. Corrupted. And permanently, I fear.”

“No, Belle.” He leaned forward to take her hands, ignoring the others’ stares. “You’re not corrupted. Your light is just as bright as it’s ever been.”

“But I fell to the temptation.”

“But you picked yourself back up again, and you always will. That’s the difference between you and me. Where I need a crutch, your bravery gives you the fortitude to stand on your own two feet. That’s your protection.”

“You’re fighting the temptation,” she assured him. “And you’re winning.”

“Today, I am,” he answered. “But tomorrow?”

“All we can control is today,” Archie reminded him. “And she’s right; you’re winning. What do you say, Mr. Gold? Four hours to walk around in Belle’s skin, and her in yours?”

Hook snorted. “I’m glad you didn’t say ‘high heels.’ That’s a sight I never want to see: Gold in Lumbertons.”

“Louboutin’s,” Snow corrected.

Gold sighed. “All right. Four hours.” He stood and moved toward the garden doors, away from the furniture; he positioned himself in front of the doors and waited quietly with his hands folded before him—but little sparks of magic flickering off his fingernails. He said nothing but his stance spoke for him: he was ready, albeit something less than willing.

“How should we do this: one at a time or everybody at once?” Archie asked. “What’s easier for you, Mr. Gold?”

Gold’s shoulders lifted slightly in his custom-tailored D & G jacket. “As you wish. It makes no difference to me.”

Emma leaped to her feet. “Let’s do this couple by couple. It’ll be more fun.” Hook took the hint and joined her, an arm’s length away from the master sorcerer. “Ready, Gold.”

Gold dipped his head slightly in agreement. “Very well. You will feel a warm tingling as the magic spreads across your skin. It will last less than a minute, and then the spell will be complete. You will not notice a difference until the people around you react to the change. It will aid the illusion if when you talk you try to use the same speech habits and gestures your partner does. But don’t bother to try to mimic your partner’s voice; the magic will encourage the observer to hear what he expects to hear If you try to fake it, your imitation will come across as exaggerated. Do you wish to continue?”

“Of course,” Hook replied.

Gold didn’t move a muscle, but magic surrounded the young couple just the same, momentarily hiding them from view. In those seconds as the spell took effect, Archie wondered about the reason for Gold’s reluctance. He suspected it had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with a dread of what he might learn from the experiment—or what Belle might learn. Archie opened his mouth, ready to call it off: maybe Gold was right to be worried. Maybe Belle and Gold weren’t the only couple for whom the experiment could be detrimental.

But before he could order a halt, the spell was cast. Emma and Hook had reversed positions: she was now standing on the left, staring at the tip of her ponytail, while Hook was tugging at his black t-shirt.

Gold’s quiet voice broke the silence. “How do you feel, Ms. Swan?” But he was looking at Hook.

Hook patted himself as if making sure all his body parts were still there. “Okay. I don’t feel different, but–” His gaze roamed down his jeans to his boots, then over to his arms. He rubbed the bristle on his chin. He whistled in amazement. “Whoa!”

Snow darted to Emma’s side and grabbed her arm. “Emma?”

“Sorry, Snow. It’s me. Killian.”

As David came up on the other side, Snow released the arm she thought belonged to her daughter and leaned across him to gape at the body that appeared to be Hook’s. “Emma? Are you okay?”

“Fine, Mom.” Emma/Hook grinned cockily. “In fact, I’m devlishly handsome.”

“Indeed.” Hook/Emma smirked back at her. “And I,” he surveyed his new appearance, “am gracefully gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Killian.” Emma/Hook took his hand.

“I suggest you plan your afternoon out on the town,” Gold motioned to the couch. “Over there.”

“Gotcha, Gold,” Hook/Emma slipped his arm across Emma/Hook’s shoulders and winked at her as he led her to the couch. “Just practicing my Emma-isms.” Archie sat down beside them for a brief conversation to assure himself that both still wanted to go forward with the test.

Meanwhile, Gold turned his attention to the Nolans. “Do you wish me to–” He wiggled his fingers.

Exchanging a glance, both Nolans nodded. “It’s just for an afternoon,” Snow confirmed; and David decided, “We’ll probably learn from it. Go ahead, Gold.”

Again, without blinking, Gold wrapped his magic around them, and in less than a minute the illusion—because it couldn’t really be called anything else; no transference or conversion had taken place—had settled around the Nolans. This time the spectators were wiser: Emma and Hook addressed the Nolans correctly as they came up to admire the handiwork.

“Now remember, Emma always folds her arms like this,” David demonstrated, while Snow cocked her head to the side, “And when she smiles at Henry, she kind of does this, like she’s amazed just to see him.”

Belle drew in a deep breath as she joined her husband. “That leaves just us, Rumple.” Her smile asked a question that the confidence in her voice belied.

“Just us,” Gold agreed. As he took her hands in his, the magic enveloped them.

Gold/Belle conjured three floor-length mirrors and invited the couples to closely examine themselves in them. “Get used to your new look so you won’t be startled by the way people look at you. The height difference, for example. You–” he pointed to David–”may feel that they’re staring at the tip of your nose, when to them, they’re looking Snow in the eye.” His eyes twinkled just a little as he turned to Emma. “And don’t be horrified when Granny cautions you that ‘the scruffy look is over’ and offers you a razor.” As Emma chortled, he faded to the back. Only Archie noticed that from the side of his eye, Gold was looking over Belle’s shoulder at his own, seemingly altered reflection. Archie wondered what he saw: did the magic fool him too?

Touching her new face, Belle leaned into the mirror. “Do you know when I first realized I was attracted to you?”

“Not in the Enchanted Forest days, that’s for certain,” Gold snorted.

“Yes, it was,” she insisted, running a finger along the edge of her new ear. “I’d been in your castle about a week. You’d just come in from a rainstorm and you were standing in front of the fireplace, warming up. You turned around and your hair was plastered down, and for the first time I could see your ears.” She smiled into the mirror. “Your sweet, mischievous, pixie ears. And that’s when I started to feel butterflies in my stomach any time you walked into the room.”

“My…ears,” he repeated doubtfully.

“Your ears,” she repeated firmly. She wheeled and slid her arms around his neck, raising on tiptoe to kiss his earlobe. “Your sweet, mischievous, pixie ears.”

Those ears turned bright red. From the corner of his eye, Archie spotted Hook taking close notice of both the compliment and the reaction; the doctor suspected this little affectionate exchange would soon become an ongoing joke.

Archie rescued Pixie Ears. “All right, folks, day’s a-wastin’. Split up, go out onto the streets, in opposite directions, and find out what it’s like to walk in your spouse’s Lumbertons.”

———————————————-

He’d finished updating his notes on the morning’s exercise and was skimming the latest online issue of Journal of Marital and Family Therapy when the first participant returned from his/her adventure. Archie had to give himself a mental shake to remember that the tall, blond young man pushing the parlor doors open was in actually a somewhat-tall brunette young woman. Snow White Nolan appeared lost in thought as she gave the psychiatrist a silent nod of greeting, then beelined for the sideboard to gulp down a cup of chamomile. “Welcome back, Snow.” Archie made a quick, subtle note in his iPad concerning the time of her return and the expression on her face.

“Hi” was her only answer. He didn’t press for more—yet. It was important that her husband be here before she described her experience; this experiment was as much a lesson for the spouse as for the adventurer.

Close on her heels was her daughter, scratching her chin—no, Archie mentally whacked himself: this was the pirate in Swan’s clothing. He flopped onto the couch, propping his long legs one atop the other. Small sounds of frustration escaped him, even as he nodded in reply to Snow’s offer of a cup of tea. “Lot to think about, Doc,” he muttered as he set the cup on the coffee table.

Belle was next to return. The sunny smile she usually had for Archie had been replaced by a chewed bottom lip. Before anyone could strike up small talk with her, she carried her tea to the bay windows that looked out onto the front lawn and white gravel drive, signaling a desire to be left alone with her thoughts.

David bounced in next, head high, steps light and a kiss on the cheek for his wife, who poured him a cup of coffee. “Great exercise, Archie,” he boomed from across the room. “Solved a problem I’ve been mulling over ever since the curse broke.”

A snort from behind the couch wondered, “Which curse? Last I counted, there’ve been five, and that’s just since I got here.”

“Didn’t go so well for you, I take it,” David remarked.

Before the pirate could respond, Emma/Hook ambled in. When she opened her mouth to accept her mother’s offer of hot chocolate, Snow gasped. “Emma! Your tongue and lips are blue! Archie, is the spell backfiring?”

Emma chuckled. “It’s just the coconut and pomegranate Icee I had.” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, then bared her teeth for inspection. “Better?”

“Better,” Snow confirmed.

Gold slipped in so silently that Archie didn’t hear him until he spoke, in his usual low voice. “I’ll lift the spell now, Dr. Hopper. With your permission?”

David/Snow positioned himself in front of the sorcerer and motioned his family over. “Fire when ready, Gridley.”

As Belle and Hook joined the group, the former queried, “Who’s Gridley?”

“Beats me. Just something I heard in a movie, but I like the sound of it.” Before anyone could say more, a whirl of purple magic swept up from the hardwood floor and momentarily blinded them from each other. But, as usual, Gold’s magic acted efficiently and in less than the draw of a breath, the illusion fell away. The Charmings and Hook moved over to the mirrors to assure themselves of the restoration, but Belle, utterly confident that Rumple could lift such a routine spell, merely helped herself to a macaroon.

“Very good. Thank you, Mr. Gold. And now, if everyone would be seated again?” Archie resumed occupation of his favorite chair as the others drifted into the seating area. “Let’s debrief. Who would like to start?”

David raised his hand. “I will. I want to say thanks for the idea, Archie. Like I said, it cleared up something that had been bothering me for years now.”

“I’m glad it was so productive, David. Please describe where you went and who you saw.”

“Well.” His arm about Snow’s shoulders, David relaxed into the couch. “I started back for the sheriff’s office. Just habit, I guess. But before I got across the parking lot, Max Grimes stopped me.” The deputy explained to Hook, “That’s the principal of the elementary school. Of course he thought I was Snow. He started talking about how low a turnout they’d been getting for the PTA meetings and he wanted to know if I—I mean, Snow—had any suggestions. So we chatted a while about that and I said maybe we should hold the meetings on Saturday afternoons instead of Monday nights. I said—speaking from experience—that on a weeknight, it’s kind of hard for a parent to go out, you know, after a long day at work and rushing home to pick up the kids and get them fed and bathed and in bed.”

“I think you’re onto something. Good idea, David,” Snow praised.

“Grimes thought so too. I’d just gotten done talking to him when a little kid called to me from across the street. He came running up with a sheet of paper in his hands. It was his math homework. He was having trouble multiplying fractions.”

“A fifth grader,” Snow surmised. “Most of them have trouble with fractions.”

“So do I.” David ran a hand through his hair. “I was wishing that we’d done a body swap instead of just a glamour thing, so I could help him. Best I could do was to invite him to come to class a fifteen minutes early on Monday and I—I mean, you—would help him then. Sorry, Snow.”

“Nothing to apologize for. That’s exactly what I would have done.”

“I never did make it into the sheriff’s office. There was a mom who wanted to talk about Snow writing a recommendation letter for her kid to get into BU. And one of the nuns said something about collecting used school uniforms for the poor kids in town. There were a couple of others–” he interrupted himself to squeeze Snow’s shoulders. “Honey, I know that’s nothing out of the ordinary; we get stopped on the street every day, seems like. We just deal with it and go on. But this time it hit me. Snow, do you remember when we were talking about moving back to the Enchanted Forest? I wanted to go and you didn’t. Well, I found out today that people really need you here. More, I think, than in the Forest. This is going to sound odd, but—you were a great queen but you’re one of a kind as a teacher. The kids here need you. You’re the one who teaches them to respect nature. You’re the one who teaches them to respect each other. These kids will be sheriffs and doctors and bridge builders and mayors someday, and you’re the one who’ll prepare them for it.”

Snow borrowed a corner of his sleeve to pat away the moisture collecting in her eyes. “Thank you, David. You say a lot of nice things to me, but that’s just about the sweetest.”

“So you changed your mind, Dad?” Emma brought the conversation back to practicalities. “About going back to the Enchanted Forest?”

David was looking at Snow as he answered. “I did. If that’s okay with your mother, I want to stay here.”

“It’s okay.” Snow sniffled. “More than okay.” She straightened. “Now it’s my turn. I had an educational experience too. I’ve always known, of course, that the people of Storybrooke depend on David for solving all sorts of problems, whether it’s slaying dragons or rescuing cats from trees.” She winked at her husband. “Ms. Shoemaker’s boxer chased one of Ms. Ginger’s tabbies up a tree, by the way. Good thing I still remember from my highwaywoman days how to climb. Anyway, after I got the tabby down—and got repaid for it with claws digging into my arm–”

“Ernestine,” David nodded knowledgeably. “She’s a biter, too. You escaped the worst of her.”

“After Ernestine, I walked over to the park to rest a while, but Sleepy spied me and wanted to know what we’re doing about the protection spell on the coastline. He’s been reading a book about this mythical ghost ship, The Flying Dutchman, and he’s scared to pieces that it’s going to appear at our docks and Cora, Cruella, the Black Fairy, Hyde, Hades and a hundred other villains are going to bomb the town.”

“He’s been having nightmares ever since Dopey got transformed into a tree.”

“Tell him to call my office on Monday,” Archie encouraged.

“Will do,” David acknowledged.

Snow continued, “So I sat with him for over an hour, listening to his dreams. I tried to reassure him that dead is dead, but… .”

“The phrase has lost its meaning of late,” Belle murmured.

“There was a time,” Gold grumbled, “when the rules of magic meant something. Before people like Zelena started disrespecting them.”

Archie noticed that at this remark, Belle lowered her head.

“So then I tried to assure him that Emma and Regina and Blue are all working together to tighten up all the various spells shielding this town from intruders. I don’t think I convinced him—I’m not sure myself that magic is the answer to our problems—but I did calm him down. I reminded him that we have patrols covering the perimeters of the town, night and day. ‘I feel better,’ he said, ‘with you and Snow and Emma on the job.’”

“As do we all,” Archie remarked.

“I found that there are still dragons to be fought, and people still come to their prince to slay them. Even if the dragons come in human form, the people want David to take care of them.” Snow smiled proudly at her husband. “So don’t put your sword away just yet, Charming.”

“I had a similar thing happen,” Hook volunteered. “The man who owns Standard Clocks—we haven’t been introduced, so I don’t know his name—he caught me as I was walking along the docks. He insisted on knowing my—that is, the sheriff’s—plan for getting rid of Zelena, Regina and Gold. He was of the impression that that’s what a savior is meant to do: slay villains. Or at least drive them out of town. I reminded him that banishment seldom sticks around here.”

Gold’s mouth tightened in a thin line and Belle reddened.

“That’s not very reassuring,” Snow said, as David added, “It’s not the kind of thing Emma would say.”

“What else happened, Captain Jones?” Archie nudged the conversation forward.

“Like father, like daughter, as the saying goes. I went into the Crab King for a bite of lunch and I’d no sooner picked up the menu when I was besieged with requests for assistance, much of it of the magical sort—and not all of it ‘requests.’ ‘Demands’ would be a more accurate word. Everything from erecting a stop sign at First Street and Cassidy Lane, to, as one of the nuns expressed it, ‘layering the abandoned mine with fairy dust so we can safely imprison the next magic wielding villain who disturbs our peace.” He gave Emma an apologetic half-smile. “I do apologize, love, for all the times I ‘got pissy,’ as you put it, over citizens interrupting our dates with their petty problems. Between enforcing the law and saving our mangy hides, you carry the weight of this town’s worries on your slender shoulders.”

“She does, indeed,” Snow agreed.

“Always glad to be appreciated,” Emma quipped.

But Archie suspected that her humor, as it so often did, was a cover for other emotions, and a study of Hook’s fingers, tapping on the back of the loveseat, showed him that Hook was covering up too. “What else, Captain? I get the feeling there’s more to your story.”

Emma poked her elbow into Hook’s ribs. “Tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, remember?”

“Well,” Hook sighed. “We need to have a chat, in private. In all the excitement of defeating the Evil Queen and the Black Fairy, not to mention our engagement, it seems we neglected a rather important matter… a question prospective spouses should find agreement on, before the wedding… .”

Emma’s brows drew together. “Go on.”

“Well.” He sat up straighter. “I strolled into the pharmacy for a pack of gum, and mistaking me for you–”

“Which was the point of this exercise,” David reminded them.

“Our eternally sneezing chemist informed me that your prescription was ready.” He reached into his jacket for a small white package and presented it to her.

She peeked inside and shrugged. “My birth control pills. So?”

“He also said that in answer to your earlier question, he’d done some checking and fertility rates do decline after age 35 but your chances of conceiving are still about 78 percent.”

“Oh.” Emma caught on now, and Archie was just a step behind her. “I was asking—I’m going to be 35 when we get married, and I thought–” she shrugged. “With things settling down here, and Henry in high school–”

“I’d assumed that once Henry graduates, we’d be free to travel–” He rested his hand on her knee. “Emma, there’s a big, beautiful world out there, waiting for us to explore. A world free of magic, where you don’t have to save anyone. A baby would tie us down–”

“A baby would give us a future.” Her voice crept up. “A chance for a normal life. A chance to have what you and me both were robbed of.”

“May I suggest we leave this topic for another, private time?” Archie butted in.

“It’s not one you can work out in single conversation,” Snow reminded them.

“Yeah, good idea,” Emma said, and Hook nodded. “A wise decision.”

“Wow,” David breathed. “This really was a major exercise.”

“More than I had anticipated,” Archie admitted. “Let’s move on. Emma, tell us about your experiences as Hook.”

“Well, mostly, it just reinforced what I already knew.” Archie detected a thin line of annoyance under her tone; he made a mental note to talk to her alone this evening, apart from Hook. He wasn’t worried for her, though; her eyes had been opened to the fact that an engaged couple had numerous questions to resolve before they were ready to become a married couple, and Archie was confident that Emma would make certain all those issues were hammered out before she started shopping for china patterns.

Hook smirked. “What? That I’m devilishly handsome?”

“Yeah.” Emma slugged him in the arm. “Emphasis on ‘devilish.’ And irresistible to women and kids. I had a troop of little boys traipsing along behind me everywhere I went, bombarding me with questions and begging for a ride on The Jolly Roger. And a pair of teenage girls that were shopping in Prubeck’s came out to the street to stare at me and giggle, like I was a–”

“Movie star,” Hook finished for her.

“I was going to say, ‘Three-headed hydra,’ but okay, ‘movie star.’ While me and my entourage were standing on the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to change, Frau Trude came up and started pawing at me, messing with my collar and my medallion—when she started inviting me up to her place for a bottle of Cuban rum, I yanked my shirt out her hands and beat it. Escaped into Any Given Sundae. Forgot that the Goose Girl works there on weekends now–”

“She goes by Amanda now,” Snow explained. “She was unanimously voted head cheerleader this year and Most Beautiful Sophomore.”

Emma growled, “Should’ve been voted ‘Girl Most Likely to,’ from what I saw. She pushed the top of her apron down to show a little cleavage, and then she leaned across the counter to serve me samples of ice cream.”

“Ice cream is one of this world’s delights.” Hook licked his lips. “Those little plastic spoons are so cute.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda forgot who I was for a minute there, ‘cause I pushed her hand away and ordered a coconut pomegranate Icee, and she said, ‘But Captain, you hateIcees.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, but Emma, my fiancee, loves them, so I thought I’d better get used to them. So she shrugged and flipped her hair and batted her eyelashes at me while she poured the Icee.” Emma shuddered. “I dunno. I knew from the beginning I’d have to put up with this crap if I got involved with you, but it’s still damned annoying.”

“I’ll try to be a little bit resistible in the future,” Hook promised.

“When she handed me the drink, she grabbed my elbow and ran her fingers along my wrist, like this.” Emma demonstrated with Archie’s arm, causing Hook to scowl and Archie to redden. “When I dug into my jeans for some money, she waved it away. ‘On the house,’ she said. ‘Your money’s no good here.’ That’s when Marcie slammed in from the back. ‘His money’s no good anywhere. It’s fake bullion. Put the charge on Emma’s tab.’ And she stood there glaring at me from behind the counter while Goosie wrote up a bill. ‘As soon as he leaves, you and I are going to have a long talk, Missy.’ So I took the hint and hightailed it out of there, and I finished my Icee on the bench at the bus stop, all those kids standing around me begging for ‘blood-curdling tales of the high seas.’”

Hook managed a blush. “Most people don’t realize how much work it is to be a pirate. He must always keep the image up for his public.”

“I finished my drink and started walking toward the pier, but that proved to be a bad idea, because the kids who were following me started shouting for other kids to come along because they thought I was going to give them a ride on the Roger. So I changed direction and went into Clara’s Crafts and started looking at embroidery needles—thanks, Mom, by the way, for teaching me.”

“Embroidery calms the nerves,” Snow said, then glanced at Archie. “I could teach a class for your patients.”

“We’ll discuss that later. Thank you, Snow,” Archie said.

“My entourage got bored waiting for me and they wandered off. But Clara came over… .” Emma paused, chewing on her lip; Archie recognized this as an indication of uncertainty and he gave her the space to decide whether to continue with her story. After a long moment of deliberation, she proceeded, “Clara came over. She said she’d talked to her husband… .” She shifted in her seat to face Hook. “See, he has an opening at the bank for a security guard, and I thought—it seems like a good gig, pays well, working daytimes.”

“Better than being a part-time bouncer at the Rabbit Hole,” Hook concurred, but his shoulders hunched. He shook his head, shaking off his annoyance, then grinned. “It would certainly improve our social life. Well done, Emma. I suppose I’ll need a uniform and a firearm?”

“Well,” Emma twisted her engagement ring. “The thing is—they, ah, filled the position.”

“With whom?”

“It doesn’t really matter, Killian.”

“With whom, Emma?”

She threw her hands into the air in surrender. “All right. They hired Thumbelina.”

Hook’s voice fell. “I see. Was it–” He raised his left arm. “Because I’m still quite capable of handing myself in a fistfight or a sword fight, as I’ve proven more than once here.”

“No,” Emma assured him. “I know—everyone knows—it’s stupid to pick a fight with Captain Hook.”

David snorted. “Just ask Will Scarlett.”

Hook ran his hand over his chin. “It’s the scruff, then. I’ve noticed people who work in banks and the like have that clean-shaven, button down look.”

Emma laced her fingers and stared at her ring. “It’s not the scruff. Or your clothes. It’s—it’s time. I mean, it’s a matter of time. The town… isn’t used to you yet. It took a while for them to warm up to me too. They’re not used to strangers. You’ve got give them time to get to know you.”

“You mean, they don’t trust me.”

Silence filled the room until Emma finally nodded and added, “But they will. Give them time. You’ve done so much for this town already; they’ve seen that. They just need time for it to sink in.”

“They will come around,” Snow contributed. “Being accepted is still a struggle for Regina, too. But you’ll both get there.”

“I could talk to a few of the guys,” David volunteered.

“Thank you, mate, but I think Emma’s right: I need to prove myself to them. And I will.”

Emma hung her head. “There was something else.” She kept twisting her ring, until at last she lifted her left hand. “This.”

Hook raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation, so Emma prompted, “I walked past Joan of Diamonds, and she grabbed me and hauled me inside.”

“Oh.”

Archie interceded, “We can stop there, if you prefer.”

“No, I suppose–” Hook looked at David. “You’re going to find out sooner or later. I owe money on the ring.”

“How much? Maybe I can–” David’s offer was interrupted by a jab from Snow’s elbow.

“Suffice it to say, I’m a bit behind in payments. I, ah, expected to have employment by now. I made a deal with Joan… .” It was his turn to sigh. “You’re right, love, about trust being a problem. Joan wouldn’t make a deal with me until one of her clerks reminded her who it is I’m marrying… and who her parents are. It wasn’t what I would have preferred, but that ring was so perfect for you, and it would take me years working at the cannery to save up for it. So I took advantage—I traded on the Charming name. Merchants may not trust me yet, but they are as certain of the Charming family as they are of the sun rising in the morning.”

With a quick glance at Belle, Gold intervened. “I could make you a loan. Or buy out your loan from Ms. Diamond.”

“Let me guess,” Emma muttered. “She owes you a favor.”

“Thank you, no,” Hook curled his lip at the pawnbroker. “I’m sure a loan from you would cost an arm and a leg.”

“No interest. You and Regina are not the only ones struggling to change,” Gold admitted. “I don’t care what others think of me, but my son and my wife live here too.”

“So,” Emma said slyly, “accepting a loan would kind of being doing you a favor.”

“In a way. I suppose.” Clearly, he wasn’t too pleased about the change in perception of his offer, nor about even making the offer, but when Belle rewarded him by resting her head against his arm, his smile became genuine.

“In that case, I accept.” Hook appeared rather pleased with himself—as well as relieved.

“We’ll find you a good job,” Emma promised before turning back to Archie. “So I learned what it’s like on both sides of the fence: being fawned over by a gaggle of fans and being mistrusted because of your past. Apparently, it’s harder being Captain Hook than anyone would think. End of report, Doc.”

“Very good. Thank you, Emma. And that brings us to the Golds. Who would like to go first?”

To everyone’s surprise, the pawnbroker spoke up. “I would, if it’s all right with you, sweetheart.” At Belle’s nod, he began. “Actually, this lesson taught me nothing about Belle; it merely confirmed what I already knew, that, much as with Mr. and Ms. Nolan, she is well regarded and much needed in this town. Loved, in fact. But that doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Belle blushed, but Archie pressed for details.

“Everywhere I went, I was welcomed.” Gold shook his head in wonder. “I was hugged more in one afternoon than in a lifetime… .” His jaw worked as he fought back emotions. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, remembering that Modern Fashions had called yesterday about a dress that was ready to be picked up, I went there first. The counter clerk–”

“Melanie,” Belle provided.

“Rushed out to the floor to hug me and she promptly invited me to the back for tea with the dressmaker–”

“Amelia.”

“She sat me down at the workbench and I chatted with Amelia as Melanie prepared the tea. She remembered that Belle has been craving peppermint tea, no sugar, ever since Gideon was born.”

Belle grinned. “She always remembers.”

“And she remembered that your birthday is coming up next month, and she asked if we would be doing something special. I told her we have no plans yet, so she and Amelia invited me—that is, you—to lunch that day, if you’re available. They asked after Gideon and were disappointed that I didn’t have my phone with me, so I promised I’d show them photos next time. They said I—Belle–was looking great and seemed to have added a few much-needed pounds. Amelia took my measures to confirm it and said she’d let the dress out a little. It will be ready on Tuesday.”

“Thank you,” Belle said.

Gold ducked his head. “And then they asked after my husband. They seemed to know we’re working on our relationship.”

“Honey, the whole town knows we’re all working on our relationships,” Snow sniffed. “And yours is one of the most interesting.”

Gold raised his eyes to Belle’s. “They wished us well. They said any time you need someone to talk to, just call. They’ve both been through rough times with their spouses.” His eyes widened. “They said they hope we can work it out, because… because we’re good for each other. Both of us, good for each other.”

“They’re sweet women and good friends.” Belle linked her arm through his, then answered his unspoken question. “And they might be right.”

“And, they said, even in infancy, a child needs its father too.” He swallowed hard. “I mentioned that the reverse is true as well. We chatted then about dresses and books, and then I paid for the dress and went on about my way. I checked on the library: Regina was raising cain with the Old Lady in the Shoe about all the books her children have lost. Had the poor woman in tears.”

“I’ll speak to her on Monday. Those children need books.”

“Marco was browsing the cookbooks and kept asking Regina for suggestions, but Madame Mayor just grunted at him. ‘How should I know? Hire a cook, like I do.’ And there was a study group asking for you, five teens who are preparing to take college entrance exams.”

“I’m glad Regina got to see all that,” Belle chuckled. “She’ll think twice about cutting the library’s budget.”

“It’s you, sweetheart, more than the books or the computers. It’s you they need. I went into Granny’s next and as soon as she heard my—your–voice she came out from the kitchen and threw her arms around me. ‘How’s the therapy going?’ I explained that we were on a break for the afternoon but that it was going well. She thrust her fists onto her hips and looked me up and down, and she said I was looking better. She said when you and I first split up, it was a race as to which would bring me down first: lack of sleep or lack of a good meal. She said she doesn’t trust Rumplestiltskin farther than she can throw a dragon, but he does seem to be taking a page from Regina’s book and behaving himself better. Then she offered to loan you her crossbow if I screw up.”

“Granny,” Belle chuckled. “What would this town be without her?”

“I ordered pancakes—Belle, when I went to pay, the ticket was half as much as I expected. She’s been overcharging me all these years. In the hour I was in the diner. I was invited to two birthday parties, a fundraiser for the animal shelter, and a retirement party. I made six book recommendations and agreed to speak to Mr. Hemingway’s tenth grade English class on Friday—about F. Scott Fitzgerald. I was hugged, complimented and kissed, no more or less than to be expected in a typical day for Belle French Gold. I learned nothing new about Belle in all this.”

“But?” Archie prompted.

“But the experiment uncovered a weakness in me. It seems, after all these years, I enjoy hugs. Even from overcharging cafe owners.”

“You’re human, Mr. Gold. Humans need touch as much as they need air,” Archie said.

“Perhaps.” The pawnbroker fell silent and Archie took the hint to end the conversation. They could discuss this further in private.

“That leaves you, Belle.”

She cleared her throat as her expression shifted from worry to—Archie wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw fear. But then she dug her fingernails into the loveseat’s upholstery and her eyes flashed at Snow. “We have to do something about Zelena.”

“What?” The former queen was puzzled.

“You think she’s changed but she hasn’t. Not enough, anyway. She’s still wicked and dangerous, and I fear for my son as long as she’s in this town.”

“Did she threaten Gideon?” Gold barked.

“She’s behaved herself of late,” Snow thought. “Regina’s vouched for her, but… .”

“Did she make threats, Belle? I can arrest her if she did,” Emma said, “but unless she’s actually broken the law in the last six months, the city council voted to give her a second chance and I have to go by that.”

“No. I don’t know.” Belle fought against herself. “She said things–”

Archie crossed the room to kneel beside her, taking her hand, as Gold slid his arm around her shoulders. “Start at the beginning, Belle,” Archie urged. “David, would you bring her a cup of tea?”

Belle drew in a deep breath. “Okay, first I walked along Chatam Street. It’s always quieter than Main Street and Rumple likes to come down to the shop from home that way. There were some kids playing kickball in the empty lot across from the Hotchkiss Dance Studio. When they saw me coming down the sidewalk, they pointed at me and yelled. ‘Run!’ they said. ‘He eats kids! My mom said so.’ Mikey Patterson said that Rumple crawled through his bedroom window and tried to kidnap him last week.”

Gold shook his head.

“And Frankie Patterson said that the Black Fairy is still alive and Rumple’s plotting with her to turn everyone into statues.”

“Kids have wild imaginations,” Snow explained apologetically. “The Patterson boys especially.”

“As I got closer, they turned and ran. I crossed the block and saw Bessie Barwell hanging out her wash. I waved to her, but she—well–” Belle elevated her middle finger.

“Bessie plays the ponies, not successfully. My loan saved her from Danny Devine, but put her in debt to me.”

“As I walked along the street, people closed their window blinds or slammed doors or turned the other way. Except for a few who just stood there and stared.”

“Captain Jones is not the only resident with town trust issues,” Gold admitted. “It played in my favor in the past, but that was before you and Gideon.”

“Most of the town sees you’re changing too, Mr. Gold. They will come around,” Archie said.

“This could not have been a surprise to you, Belle. You did know when we married how the town feels about me. Lord knows, we’ve had enough such streetside encounters.”

"No, it didn’t surprise me, but I felt it. For the first time, I felt it from your perspective. It felt weird, both awful and good at the same time. The way people were reacting to me, I felt powerful and—kind of safe. Like they wouldn’t dare mess with me, you understand, Archie? But then right away I felt conflicted. Not everybody thinks ill of me, I thought, but hardly anyone thinks well. And I worried what Gideon would have to cope with as he grows up.” She glanced over at her spouse. “And I felt bad for myself, because other than Dove, I don’t have anyone I can just sit down with and have coffee, you know? I learned that you never get used to loneliness. Even Rumplestiltskin needs friends.”

“Perhaps so,” Gold allowed.

Belle clenched her fists. “And then I walked up to Second Street. I thought I’d pop in to Ichiro’s. Rumple loves their green tea ice cream. But you know Rapunzel’s Salon is next door, and Zelena was coming out. She saw I was alone and so was she, and I guess she took advantage of that. She sashayed up to me and made some snide comments about a rumor going round that Child Protective Services is planning to take Gideon away unless… .”

“Unless I remove myself from his life and yours,” Gold finished. “I’ve heard those rumors too. Don’t fear them, Belle. It’s just vicious talk.”

"We won’t let them take your kid,” Emma said with some venom. “Not from either of you.”

“While she was railing at me, that’s what I was thinking,” Belle said. “I reminded myself, in this world, Gold is a lawyer with an expertise in family law. He’ll fight tooth and nail to keep his son. But a small voice deep inside cried, ‘Not another one. I can’t lose another child.’ She saw she was getting to me and she laughed.”

“The bitch,” Emma muttered.

Snow stood and with folded hands, addressed the Golds. “Let me assure you, no one will take that baby away from you.”

“Least of all, Zelena,” David’s voice shook as he came to his wife’s side.

“She’s screwing with you, mate,” Hook suggested. “She’s wicked. That’s what she does.”

“I’m going to have a talk with Ms. Green,” Snow decided. “With the mayor present. As a city councilwoman, I’ll let the witch know that we don’t appreciate her shaking up our town with foul rumors. And I’m going to remind her that we don’t cherry pick forgiveness. Those who will work for it will receive it.”

“Right now she doesn’t seem to be doing much work,” Emma sniped.

“You might feel alone in this town, but it doesn’t have to be that way,” David said to Gold.

Archie folded his arms as he surveyed his clients. “You have allies, Mr. Gold, perhaps for the first time, and in time, you may have friends.”

Gold’s eyes traveled from face to face. “Perhaps so.”

“Good exercise, Doc,” Hook clapped the psychiatrist on the back. “We all got something out of it.”

“Smells like there’s more to come,” David sniffed the air. “I’d say Granny’s Yankee pot roast and rosemary rolls.”

Emma sniffed too. “And cherry pie. I know we’re supposed to wait for Ruby to ring for us, but–”

“Yes, we can go in now,” Archie allowed. “We’ve done a lot of important work today and we’ve earned our dinner. Let’s go into the dining room and see if there’s a salad we can start on. A good start, everyone.” He stood back to admire them. “Much more than I could’ve asked for. A very good start.”

#darcyfarrow2005 #a monthly rumbelling #march #submission

[talesofgrace]

I’m on the flight home from Ibiza to Liverpool and this flight couldn’t be any more opposite to the one going. Everyone is pretty much done in and I must admit I’m no different. I’ve just spend a week in Ibiza the difference for me this this time is that I traveled as a solo traveler, not knowing anyone and with no real plan only thing I wanted to do was see Camelphat at Hii (they didn’t disappoint but we’ll get to that on another post).

I know Ive harped on about this before but as fun as being single is its hard sometimes when you want to do stuff and there’s no-one to do it with, be it gigs, walks or holidays. Ibiza is always somewhere I’ve wanted to go but no-one else has really wanted to go there. over the past few years I’ve muted the idea that I’d go on my own but I checked out and people laughed at me. last year was the first year I’ve been and it didn’t disappoint I was able to go with my sister and cousin and we had a ball. This year we planned to do the same again but one thing or another cropped up, life got in the way and no-one else was able to come. So after years of talking about going on my own I decided just to take the plunge.

This little post is about the general trip and little tips I picked up from people and what’s on offer for solo travellers. Im going to write one about the places we went separately, mainly for my memory so I don’t forget what went on!

Now Ibiza isn’t somewhere i though that people head by themselves unlike places like mainland Europe, Thailand backpacking or Australia but let me tell you I couldn’t of been more wrong. Soooooo very wrong!!! Yes there are huge groups of people on lads lads lads holidays, hen doos, stags doos and little groups of  people with their mates but I found there was equally as many people on their own too. To make sure I was stalked at sorry safe at every step of the way my beautiful little friends added me on find a friend. My mum as sister all ready stalk sorry I mean have me on there (I often forget this and my mum will ring asking how the motorway traffic is and ill be super confused but she’ll inform me that she checked the app before ringing.)

After a little bit of googling I managed to find a Facebook group of people that were heading out on their own and I also joined a few workers groups on Facebook too to see about cheap places to stay and things to do that wasn’t just clubbing (I know, I know what can I say Im cultured too). This started to give me a little bit of confidence that I wasn’t a total loon doing this and it was something people did.

I was torn about where to stay. I couldn’t find any hotel rooms for just 1 person and any that I could were so expensive and I really didn’t have the money for it. I ended up finding a hostel in San Antonio called Amistat. I’ve only ever stayed in a hostel once and that was with 5 other mates so it wasn’t bad but this was a week with 5 other strangers. However after a few reads of reviews and chatting to people on the FB I decided to book it. There are different rooms you can have a 10 bed mixed dorm for £12.65 a night, single sex female dorm with ensuite for £21 a night. They also do private rooms for 2 people that are ensuites for £75 a night. I opted for a female dorm facing the pool with breakfast included (although I only made it out of bed once for breakfast) I though “ah fuck it” (that phrase came up a few times this week). On reflection I wouldn’t get the breakfast again and save myself €6 a day and just use the lovely cafe called Cafe Hunza that’s opposite instead. The only thing I wasn’t sold on was the green pool. The colour was just a little uninviting. They did have a schedule things that the hostel were organising however we didn’t go on any of those and due to the shite weather that was forecast (bloody rain in Ibiza) a lot of stuff was cancelled in advance. 

view from balcony

green pool….

Speaking of weather in Ibiza. One thing I did learn was that never trust the weather report. It changes literally by the second. At one point I was looking at the weather and it was saying it was raining for the next 6 hours however I was outside and I could see the moon. Not a cloud in the sky. But when it rained. It really rained. Thunder lightning and flooding in the streets. But even when it rains on Ibiza it’s still better than a night back home. I’m from up north, weather doesn’t stop us going out. We just adapt. 

So back to the Facebook group. Someone on there had created a WhatsApp group for everyone that was going and I got added to that. I’d never felt as popular in my life my phone was pinging constantly. From that a few people who were there the same dates as me set up another WhatsApp group and started to plan our week about what wanted to see what where. While this was happening I made a friend on the internet (don’t worry she was an actual real person) who was staying in the same hostel and coming out and leaving on the same day! Winner winner chicken dinner. And it turns out she was bloody lovely and such a good laugh too. [Hayley you helped to make a awesome week even more awesome.] we also made another friend off the internet who was over 30 too Andy. And just like that we became the Brit’s abroad. 

Up cropped another WhatsApp group for guest list entries which gave you a heads up as to where you could get in for a little cheaper.  This came in very handy indeed!!

As I was trying to save as much money as possible I used the buses wherever I could or shared a taxi with other people. The buses are actually really good and run all through the night. The bus station was super close to the hostel (10 min walk) and the disco bus took you to pretty much all the places you wanted to go and also took you home. It for a bit crowded at times and it was a bit sweaty but the tunes and atmosphere on it was pretty much the same as this flight – bouncing on the way out and everyone passed out on the way home. 

I think I actually lucked out a bit with the hostel because it was only full on the first day and the last day too. For the rest of it there was only me and Linda in there which was pretty good! 

Depending where you eat over there will depend on how much you spend. Cafe Mambo actually in the day time is quite reasonable for very good portions but if you found little local cafes you could get a coffee for €1.60 and a breakfast for €5. The other thing we were doing to save money was getting food from the supermarket and storing it in the kitchen of the hostel. The only issue with that was it’s not open all the time. The first night on our way home we went in search of a kebab place and took a wrong turn and stumble upon a late night supermarket we ended up getting mini cheddar and a soggy baguette. I didn’t actually eat it I passed out and woke up cradling it with one bite missing from it!!

We pre drank every day and when the drinks are €20 each it’s pretty much the only way. Some places do drinks packages which do work out ok and once or twice we split this between 2 because there was no way we were drinking 6 drinks in on sitting when we had to make sure we got to the next place on the agenda.  

The hostel check out was 11am and my flight home wasn’t until 2040 so I made use of the lockers and went for a wander. I got the bus to Ibiza town and went for an explore and then hopped on a bus to Playa d’en Bossa for another mooch. I found a place that I could store my case and bag in and they also did showers for a freshen up. I was as happy as a pig in shite about that bit cause I was bloody roasting and needed to cool down before heading to the airport. That cost €26 and Linda told me what she did last time was had an early flight and her mates were in Ushuaïa so instead of checking in and heading back she went there dumped the bags had a shower and went out. Turns out this is pretty standard. Again also very ducking handy it’s cheaper and quicker than paying for a taxi back and too. 

So the cost overall was

£65 for flights 

£151 for accommodation 

I used £900 for spends which when you say it sounds a lot however an entry to a club ranges from €20-€60 depending where you go and we went to and we went to 9 different places in total that we had to pay on the door for which is about €300 just for getting into places. 

I can honestly stay I’ve had the best time ever. And this has spurred me on more to do more things on my own. I’m already thinking about where I can go next for a little weekend away. It’ll be the place with the cheapest flight and a few hostels. I’m not letting being on my own stop me from doing anything again. 

I actually have a ticket for The Amsterdam Music Festival in October but due to a lack of funds I highly doubt I’ll be going unfortunately. That will have to wait until next year I think. Unless I come into some money between now and then….Ill just have my own little rave instead

Ibiza solo style I’m on the flight home from Ibiza to Liverpool and this flight couldn’t be any more opposite to the one going.

#adventure #dance #explore #friends #fun #hostal #Ibiza #life #mental health #music #self #single #solo #solo travel #sun #travel

[bongaboi]

LA Sports Peanut Gallery

The Bruins’ hire of Chip Kelly deserves an eight-clap.For the first time since Pepper Rodgers, I am legitimately excited for UCLA football. And for the first time in many years , I think our crosstown rivals should be legitimately SCared!!

Richard Katz

Los Angeles

::

Maybe as a USC alumni I’m not as dazzled by the Chip Kelly hiring as the Bruin faithful, but he’s been out of the college wars for nearly six years, his NFL and “rest year” record is 28-36, Oregon was put on probation when he left, and everybody in the world now runs variations of the “blur” offense and hurry-up that he used with the Ducks. He seemed rather disinterested and aloof from his players in Philadelphia and San Francisco, so are the Westwooders overrating him or is my Trojans bias too pronounced? We always said, “UCanLoseAgain.” Fight on!

Richard Cole

Encinitas, Calif.

::

UCLA can’t have it both ways. Fire a coach on his birthday and sacrifice $12 million when he leads young men and is respectable and actually conforms to the way an academic school should run a program? Spend another $23 million on a replacement with a history of NCAA violations to replace him? And then “defer” action on three students acting as thieves who create an incident in a foreign country who were likely to spend at most a year in the program and have nothing to do with academics the school pretends to espouse?

They could have suspended the kids, hired a new defensive coordinator to go with a good offensive coach (Fisch) and acted like a good academic school should. Need an example of how things should work? University of Wisconsin, which had Elite Eight basketball, top-five football and a fully moral group of students and coaches in a very high academic environment.

Robert Goldstone

Corona del Mar

::

Sports and political talk seems to make us all dizzy and irrational. Chip Kelly has had his day at Oregon and then flopped in the NFL. So now UCLA, which desperately needed a defense to go with a decent offense, hired, at huge cost, a strictly offensive coach from the past. Dan Guerrero knows nothing about football and this will finally prove it.

Warren Larson

Sunland

::

It is amazing to read the fawning reaction to Chip Kelly’s hire. Most recently, he went 2-14 in San Francisco, which more closely resembles Oregon than Los Angeles. Dan Guerrero looks to attempt to recover from an otherwise universally fatal 0-3 head football coach pick history by chasing old glory. Good luck, Dan, Chip and UCLA faithful.

Konrad Moore

San Diego

::

Whoever said that sports figures, jocks and coaches are stupid, obviously weren't referring to Chip Kelly, who convinced UCLA to pay him $23.3 million for a five-year deal, despite the fact, that his record for 2016 was 2-14.. Maybe one should point a finger at an athletic director, who ignored one of UCLA's greatest, and most successful coaches, when he said, "be quick but don't hurry".

Robert C. Thompson

Marina Del Rey

::

It was good to see UCLA work toward putting the ugly China shoplifting scandal behind them by going out and hiring one of the dirtiest football coaches of the last decade.

Rob Osborne

Manhattan Beach

::

Bill Plaschke had his giving-of-thanks column, now here's mine. I give thanks that the nattering phony moral arbiter (with a very suspect agenda) of Los Angeles sports does not have a vote within the UCLA athletic department. Hooray to UCLA for ignoring Plaschke and choosing Chip Kelly.

Jon Udell

Santa Monica

Bum Phillips was right when he said “How do you win? By getting average players to play good and good players to play great. That’s how you win.” Chip, you won with kids UCLA overlooked like my son and you kept your promise that he’d leave Oregon knowing how to tackle life. Thank you, good luck and go Bruins!

Gordon Peppars

Cheviot Hills

::

With the all the recent sponsorship and coaching happenings at UCLA, maybe they should switch their uniform colors from blue to green like Notre Dame.

Daniel VonSpanielle

Malibu

::

When I told my husband that Jim Mora was fired, he said, " They should have fired Guerrero." When I told my son the same thing, he said, "They should have fired Guerrero."

Irrespective of whether Jim Mora should or should not have been fired, I believe in the adage, "It isn't what happens to you, but how you handle it." If Jim Mora, one of the nicest, most decent human beings on the entire planet, is going to be fired, could someone please have waited until the last game was played, and it wasn't his birthday?

Judith Webb

Sherwood Forest, Calif.

Ram it

I don't hear anyone saying that the youngest head coach in NFL history is "too young" anymore.

Vaughn Hardenberg

Westwood

::

The cheapest ticket for a Rams game is $100 for a really bad seat. USC tickets are half that price. The Rams will undoubtedly make the playoffs this year. As ownership most likely hadn't factored a home playoff game into their budget, perhaps they can do the working class fans a favor and have some lower-priced tickets that will allow a huge section of the Rams' fan base to actually see their team in person.

Rich Hardt

Long Beach

It's interesting that The Times news space for ex-jock, so-called vice president for business development, and chief critic Eric Dickerson to pontificate on the changing fortunes of the team he once deserted. I'm sure filling empty space with the comments of a crashing, boring whiner like Dickerson will excite Rams fans everywhere. His presence and mouth has made him the Rams version of LaVar Ball. So what happened to Les Snead?

Lawrence M. Kates

Los Angeles

::

What do Robert Woods, Nelson Algholor, Marqise Lee and JuJu Smith-Schuster all have in common? Can you spell Lane Kiffin?

David Crain

Hacienda Heights

No tanks

During Bill Plaschke’s tenure as a sports columnist for the Los Angeles Times he has performed many roles for the Southern California sports community — court jester to someone with thought-provoking ideas about the state of sports.

His advocacy of the Clippers tanking the remainder of the season is reprehensible. Just because other NBA teams may have taken such actions does not make it right. One can only hope that The Times examines the appropriateness of continuing to give Mr. Plaschke a forum to advocate such nonsense.

Robert Matthews

San Clemente

::

With his customary hyperbole, Bill Plaschke writes that the Lakers' Lonzo Ball "is learning under the most pressure of any professional rookie in Los Angeles sports history..." Some might nominate another vaunted rookie who performed in a much tighter, seven-game pressure cooker: Cody Bellinger, the Dodgers' top power hitter, striking out 29 times to set a World Series record, with untold millions watching his every swing.

Lonzo's got an 82-game Lakers rebuilding season to find his confidence and outside shot, with zero playoff expectations for at least another year or two. By then, maybe his overreaching father, LaVar, will be all grown up and able to let his more talented son enjoy the glory he will have earned.

J. M. Wilson

West Hollywood

::

That was a pathetic Lakers loss to the Clippers on Monday night. From Luke Walton's chaotic and random substitution patterns, to guys firing up ridiculous, wild shots down the stretch in the fourth quarter. They can't close out the Clippers with Gallinari, Griffin and Beverley out of the game? All this after four days of rest and a "competitive" practice Saturday. The Lakers are a chaotic team with no flow or plan for closing out games!

David Waldowski

Laguna Woods

::

The Clipper Curse? How can something be labeled a curse when it is consistent with the way a team has been performing over a number of years? That label doesn't mean that the team's been playing well; it is an excuse for how they're playing. Lousy.

Patrick Kelley

Los Angeles

::

The comic pages in the paper need a bit of pepping up, and I never cease to get a good laugh when I read about LaVar Ball's inane drivel in the various sections of The Times, so I suggest a new comic strip titled "LaVar's Family Circus." (Apologies to Bil & Jeff Keane).

Dan Bradvica

Whittier

Rim shot

On Nov. 27, Zach Helfand described missed USC shots against Texas A&M as clanging off the rim. In reality, the rims are too tight at Galen to “clang.” He may be confused with Pauley’s loose rims.

David Marshall

Santa Monica

Showing his stripes

I guess with all of the personal issues Tiger Woods has had over the past few years, he is no longer interested in public opinion. That would explain him playing golf with the president. But because he lives in America, he has the right to continue to make bad decisions.

Russell Morgan

Carson

::

The Los Angeles Times welcomes expressions of all views. Letters should be brief and become the property of The Times. They may be edited and republished in any format. Each must include a valid mailing address and telephone number. Pseudonyms will not be used.

Mail: Sports Viewpoint

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