#It's sitting in my Google docs and my art folder

[shawncantwrite]

so if I said I have like. Oh I don't know, a multichapter Filipino Aswang named reader x Larissa x Marilyn fanfic complete with my art in every chapter but I'm just too shy to post anything ever.. would anyone read it?... hypothetically. Just. Just asking for a friend...

Edit: Reader's name is Claire Royales, she was also study buddies with Larissa in school. They met in the forest.

[tai-templates]

🌿◟﹒WHEN WILL I FORGIVE MYSELF ? "|| . . . RP Template ! ─── Free to use (with credit!)

I had this sitting in my folders for over a month because the sheet was so custom fitted for my OC Noir and I wasn't sure if it could be customisable for other people - but I think it can work!

It does mean you'll need to be able to find/make your own assets but I'll add some links below in the 'Important Notes' section of this post!

This sheet is also inspired by @altrusticbeauty's LIAR TEMPLATE! Its a beautiful and simple sheet that me and my friends have used before. Please go support them!

++ps:: I may be changing to using Google Slides instead of Google Docs from now as its easier to edit and more mobile friendly!

Instructions on how to edit below! - Consider Supporting me too! [ Reblogs Appreciated! ] - [ My Kofi! ] - [ Art commissions! ]

Important Notes :

It may require you to know how to find and make your own asset in order to showcase your character best

But if you add in character notes - it'll still work without you needing to find/make your own photos!

I use this WEBSITE to find transparent PNGs

[ Important ] Some pictures may be layered! To access objects blocked by another photo/text box - move them aside temporarily - or you can select the blocking item - order - send backward until you can access it and bring it back to the front when you're done!

Please make your own copy of the sheet! Do not send me requests to give you permission to edit the sheet! Making a copy will give you your very own version to edit! pls guys my email-

How to get your own copy [DESKTOP] ・Open the link ・Click on the 'File' button on the top left ・Click on 'Make a Copy' ・Name the file, and click 'Make a Copy' ・You can now edit your own copy!

How to get your own copy [MOBILE] ・Open the link on your Docs app ・Tap on the 3 dots on the top right ・Tap on 'Share and Export' ・Tap 'Make a Copy' and name the file! ・You can now edit your own copy!

How to Edit . . .

Images! - [ DESKTOP ] Right click on the placeholder image and select 'Replace with' and choose your downloaded image. - [ MOBILE ] Tap on the image, and at the bottom there should be an image icon. Tap on that to look for the new image you want to use.

♡ Let me know what you think! ♡

[not-poignant]

For the meme!!! 21 - 22 - 23

We love a sequential number sequence :D

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

I mean, yeah, maybe one day! I don't want to quit writing, I certainly don't wish I could. I love this job! It's been my favourite ever job! It's also been the hardest fucking job I've ever done!!! But I still love it :'D

I don't want to say 'I'm never going to quit' - I don't know what the future might bring. The arthritis in my hands is pretty bad, maybe one day I'll be in too much agony to justify it. Maybe one day I'll just stop enjoying it. I don't believe in sticking something out forever based on how I feel about it now!

I can say with all confidence that I don't want to quit. The biggest flaw in this version of my job is that it doesn't pay super great for the amount of work that goes into it. BUT, it definitely pays better than working as a professional artist did, and there is growth, and amazing people do support the Patreon, so it's like...that flaw becomes less of a flaw over time.

I love this job. It wasn't one I would have picked for myself, but it's introduced me to the best people, it's something I feel I'm actually pretty good at (maybe I'm not, but this is a nice feeling to have), and it's kind of unique. I get to be my own boss (I'm a mean boss, but I'm getting better), and I get to work from home, and I can accommodate my chronic illnesses. I get to spend time in amazing worlds, with amazing characters, and then I get to reply to amazing comments and asks made by amazing people.

Like, when this job is going well, I feel like one of the luckiest people. When this job is hard I just groan a lot and take painkillers for editing headaches. But like, the good parts of this job are very good!!

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

I'm pretty organised.

So, all of my chapters are written in Microsoft Word and saved directly into Dropbox (with offline storage as well). All of my folders are also very well organised. I have a naming system for each chapter, and everything is chained together pretty well.

On top of that I now use Obsidian for worldbuilding (it's free! Though you can pay and they deserve money for their awesome service). I used to use World Anvil but found it too clunky for my personal needs. I have about 4 Obsidian vaults now (i.e. different worlds) and they look like this:

You can see a chained folder system on the left, and the graph view on the right.

And the information in the individual files is set up like a Wiki page:

Not all of my worlds get this treatment, but Underline the Rainbow, Vexteria, Mallory & Mount and something else I've forgotten about all have vaults. Fae Tales doesn't, because I didn't know Obsidian existed when I started worldbuilding for that, lol, so all of that is in Word.

And then I will on occasion just write in notepads and in Paperblanks journals when I need to brainstorm stuff. This part of the process is especially useful when plotting, brainstorming names or titles, or figuring out the end of a story.

I don't use Google Docs (don't actually like it), Scrivener (hate it, sorry Scrivener fans), or anything else. Word has its issues, but it does well enough for me. I actually formatted Perth Shifters in Word.

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I write in a study dedicated to art/writing, because those have been my jobs for over 15 years. I sit at a large desk, and have a desktop computer with one monitor (I've wanted two monitors for such a long time), a decent speaker system, and a good RGB hard-drive.

It's a mess, lol.

Hang on let me show you:

I have stickers on the desktop by the immaculate WhiskeyRabbit. I have a bunch of art supplies, and art in various stages of completion (the raven is finished, Augus behind the raven is not). There's meds and supplements everywhere. I have my Metformin (diabetes meds) in front of me because I often eat where I work, lol. I have some Sank collectible toys on the subwoofer because I find Sank very inspiring. And lots of art behind me like I'm some 18 year old instead of the 41 year old I actually am.

Oh and like, some half-finished chocolate blocks, lmao. And some fingerless gloves, a tea-towel, notepads for my writing, a calculator for my wordcount, a little spiky massage ball for the muscle/fascia issues in my wrists from writing so much, and much, much more.

It's a very ADHD desk. I do not notice the mess, lmao.

To my left is my writing whiteboard which tracks my writing and the chapters I've completed for the year, and my yearly wordcount to date. It also has some pinned up fanart and gifts from readers to keep me going when things get hard! :D

--

From the Weird Writing Questions meme!

[thegingerjedi]

WIP Ask Meme

thanks, @defira85 for tagging me!! Some of these are eons old and will never see the day otherwise. :)

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs

Here are some of the extremely creative and descriptive titles sitting in my Google Docs which are unfinished and unposted:

Baldur's Gate - Layla x Wyll

Dragon Age 2 (sighs heavily)

Dragon Age Inquisition

DraGOn AgE!?!?!?!?!?

Errant Kingdom - Drabbles and Fixes

I'm a Dumbass Fool

Mass Effect - Aoife/Thane

More Than a Feeling (Part 3 [of my SWTOR longfic])

The Delicate Art of Control and Chaos

Witcher?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

This is definitely not all of them, but I don't have that many friends, and even fewer that Kirsty didn't already tag. Anyway if I did tag you here, absolutely zero pressure at all to post!!

Anyway, so tagging: @hoiist, @aearyn, @angelicfangirl, @walwen, @aurrieattorney, @doodledebris, @plaguelin, @badgerpaws, @oolathurman, and @merrybandofmurderers (I think I saw that you were tagged already, but if not!)

[eriadu-in-the-wildwood]

Fooooor the recent writer's questions:

6 (AD&VD), 12 but both for smut and general, 18 (SbS), 26, 34, 50!

6. What’s one fact about the universe of A Dark & Verdant Door that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

I didn’t really get a chance to explore Yaz’s world beyond Sheffield, or the world the Warden is from, since those were beyond the scope of that story. Things that would be fun to think about/write about would be the politics of Yaz’s world, what was up with her early military training, maybe some sort of new conflict arising from the history that I threw hints at with the ruins around the town. And the Warden, well there’s not much DW canon to draw from on the Doctor’s place of origin, so that would just be me pulling a world of shapeshifters out of a hat and making up a bunch of stuff about it. Which sounds FUN.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? (smut and general)

For a DW-specific general trope, I’d say I’ve never really liked fobwatch fics, and yet I find myself playing with the concept in something I’m working on currently. (Sort-of. Because it’s also an AU. And very hard to describe.)

Smut-wise, hm, that’s actually a difficult question, I tend to stay not-interested in the few things I’m not interested in… I’ll say roleplay scenarios in general might be growing on me a bit.

18. If you wrote a sequel to Star by Star, what would it involve?

Oh you got me with this one, because I have a pretty robust outline just sitting here in my google docs folder… It involves the growing conflict between the Alliance and Gallifrey, money problems, more of Theo’s secrets, and an increasingly complicated quest gallivanting across the galaxies to find Theo a new cybernetic heart.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

If I had to choose, I’d go with no dialogue, because you can pry action and description from my cold, dead hands! I think I could still get my point across writing something like that. Hmm… that one’s going into the “concepts that interest me” file…

34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

Any time you find me waxing poetic about art or throwing art-related terms into a story, that’s because of my background in fine arts. The way plants creep into every story is mostly cause I think they’re neat, but also because of childhood summers spent building forts out of branches and my current obsession with gardening. Other weird ideas come from reading approximately 1 zillion books and mixing and matching bits and pieces of them with stuff I’m interested in!

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

I’ll answer "49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!"

One of the many projects I've been juggling lately is an western-fantasy AU that I’m going to have a hell of a time tagging if I ever get it done. I’ll throw in a little bit to try and get the vibes across:

“I know what you are.”

Does she, now? How can that be possible?

Deep shadows under Grace’s eyes betray her exhaustion, but her gaze is pointed, dangerous. “I should have seen it last night. But the Oncoming Storm only appears under the light of the full moon. Why are you still here?”

She’s sharp; not that Yaz isn’t, but Yaz is young. Not experienced in the way Grace is.

“I don’t know,” they say. “I seem to be stuck.” 

Grace paces to the end of the porch, boots thumping against the boards. She leans on the rail and looks out over the street. “I’m sorry.” She glances back, then to the street again. Rain dampens her shirtsleeves, droplets hang in the threads of her poncho. “I think we might have tethered you here, somehow, when we summoned you.”

Thanks for the asks!

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

sorry about all of them dszjhgaier you don't have to answer all of 'em!

KDJFKSDJFKDJ WHY LMAO

decided to single-handedly complete this ask game 😭

💖🏆🦅 have been answered here!

i'd link the "send me more asks" thing but i think all the questions have now been answered ksjdflsdkjf

✨ give you and your writing a compliment. go on now. you know you deserve it 😉

ehhhhhh i can write emotions well?? mostly with angst i think, like the chaotic thoughts and physical sensations that happen during angsty scenes IDK I'M NOT GOOD AT AFFIRMING MYSELF ;-;

🎶 do you listen to music while you write? what song have you been playing on loop lately?

depends on my focus level! for a while i had @chaotic-on-main generate a fluff playlist for me as i was writing the cuter parts of matcha. sometimes if i'm angsty i'll listen to music. a recent listen has been this:

🛠 what tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

i used zenwriter for a while! but now i've just moved onto using google docs because adhd makes it so that i can't get myself to write if i dedicate my night to writing, but i can get myself to start writing if i'm doing it while gaming 👁️👄👁️

⛔ do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

SO MANY MY GOD i have a canonverse one for aot that was the first thing i wrote, but i scrapped it because i was eh about the story and characterization. i published some excerpts but the actual fic is just kinda sitting in my folder all lonely

🙋‍♀️ do any irl people know you write fanfic?

some do! i've kinda realized that fanfic is like the Thing™ that i do. what do i do on weekends when i'm letting off steam? i write. it's like the one area where i dont rly feel like an imposter if that makes sense??? anyways i say i like writing and if they ask i will say fanfiction lol. there are definitely some irls i'm more willing to share to than others though

🍦 what's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

hmmm including unpublished? honestly probably still matcha because it's like a modern au and isn't surrounded by death and angst like most of my fics are skdjfksjdf

🍷 do you drink and write?

hmmm i dont think i've written after drinking, but definitely after smoking!

🍆 do you write the spicy stuffs? if so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

OH YOU BET, although reminder of the fun fact that i did NOT intend to publish smut at ALL when i first revived this blog and now look where i am dkflsdkjf i have a bunch of short drabbles that have gained traction because we're all horny with short attention spans djjksjfks if we're strictly talking about oneshots, i think it would be this one if we're including longer drabbles, i'd say this one

🌞 do you have a preferred time of day to write?

ehhh, writing at night is most convenient? i'll do it whenever the writing juices hit tho. i do like writing late into the night (like 12am-3am) because i can focus the best, but i can't stay up that late most nights u.u

💌 how do you feel about comments and feedback?

i love comments! feedback less so. do not provide unless i ask. any improvements in writing style will come from me. providing unsolicited feedback is one of the fastest way to getting blocked. i'm already disengaging from conversations regarding word count or use of y/n, so this entire topic makes me all skdfjkdsjf even if it doesn't directly involve my writing

💲 would you ever open commissions?

ehhhh if people are ever willing to pay? i feel like fanfic is just so available everywhere that people aren't really willing to pay for it? i've opened up tips a few years ago and nothing happened so i'm just eh about it

🎨 how do you feel about fan art of your stories?

I WOULD LOVE IT but do not expect it lol

🤗 what advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

write to your heart's content and if anyone shames you for being cringey, having a mary sue oc/reader, writing ooc or whatever, i would gladly unkindly tell them to fuck off for you 💕 but honestly, just write! you'll form your own style and process and it's the most organic way to begin writing. it'll teach you to write and pour your soul into it for YOU and not because you're trying to live up to anyone's expectations

😬 which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

OH MY GOD i wrote a mini-fic for WoW and it's literally in a folder in my google docs titled "things we can forget that exist"

📚 would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

eh. publishing it means opening it up for critique and having tangible expectations. so probably not.

⌛ how long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

depends on the adhd gremlin. can range from 1-2 hours all the way up to like 3 weeks or a few months for the oneshots i keep forgetting about ksdjfksdjf

🤯 what's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc)?

hmm...maybe action? i love writing battle scenes, but idk if they're written well enough for someone that's freshly reading to know what the fuck is going on lol

💔 is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

anything on my angst list makes me want to cry or resulted from me crying LMAO there is a hurt/comfort one that i wrote on a topic i struggle with a lot and will occasionally summon the feels when i reread it but it ends happy sooooo

💥 how do you feel about criticism?

refer back to what i said about getting feedback. do not provide unless i ask. if i know you, i'll ask you to stop. if i do not know you, then you will be blocked.

🤭 do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

i think i use "pls i need him so bad" a lot LMAO because anything i produce quickly is motivated by me desperately needing the affection of levi ackerman and his cock

🥰 how do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

i love questions! i love it when people are screaming in the comments over cliffhangers! or even some that DM me with reactions and i'm just like 🤭 the entire time

[natureheldmeclosezine]

Call for Submissions: Nature Held Me Close, Edition Two

“Nature Held Me Close” is a zine about gender dysphoria and the great outdoors. Sometimes it’s hard to exist in a physical body, but spending time in nature can be one of the best ways to feel more comfortable in your own skin.

This is the second edition of this project, initially started in 2020. You can read volumes 1 and 2 here.

This zine is a place to feature art and writing from trans, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming people about how spending time outdoors  – hiking, camping, gardening, birdwatching, landscaping, doing outdoor education or research, or just sitting quietly in nature – has influenced how you feel about your body and your gender. Submissions are open to dysphoric people of any and all gender identities!

You are welcome to share:

Essays and other nonfiction writing

Poetry

Digital and/or traditional art

Photography

Mixed media

How to participate:

Email stellarator.notes@gmail.com with your submission. Please include 1) your name or a nickname you’d like to be known by, 2) social media handle if you’d like it to be published with your piece (optional), and 3) any author’s or artist’s notes you’d like included as well. Once submissions are collected, this zine will be published as a free PDF. Submissions are due by June 20, 2021: this year’s summer solstice.

Submission guidelines are included under the cut!

Submission Guidelines and FAQ

Q. Where will this zine be hosted? A. You’ll be able to find this edition of the zine along with previous volumes on Carrd at natureheldmeclose.carrd.co.

Q. What file format works best for submissions? How long can they be? A. .docx (Word or Google Docs) works best for writing, and .jpg or .png works best for images, but as long as it can be converted into a PDF to share, anything goes. Hi-res images are deeply appreciated, and let’s keep word count under 5000 words. You are welcome to submit more than one piece if you’ve got them!

Q. This is a pretty personal topic. Will my privacy be respected? A. Of course. Feel free to use a pseudonym or even send in a piece anonymously if you’re more comfortable with that. Your email will not be shared with anyone other than the editor of this project, El @starfoozle.

Q. What’s your policy re: content moderation and content warnings? A. The general tone of this project is intended to be one of affirmation and celebration, and recognizes the diversity in people’s gender experience. If your piece needs content warnings (for mentions of assault, disordered eating, self-harm, etc.), please include them in your author’s note. This should go without saying, but do not submit a work that’s disrespectful to other members of the LGBT+ community who may not share your identity. Being a jerk is a sure-fire way to have your submission dropped into the spam folder and excluded from this project.

Q. What is the project timeline? A. Submissions will be open until June 20, 2021, after which I’ll edit and collate what everyone’s sent me into a PDF, which I will plan to complete around the autumnal equinox depending on how many works are submitted. I’ll post updates in the interim, but in the meantime, please boost this project if it’s something you and your friends might be interested in participating in!

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

welcome to the WIP abyss.

@chainofclovers my dear, thank you for tagging me!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips.

i’ve decided to list every abandoned fic attempt i could find in my google docs, just to really offer a portrait of how often i try to write something and do not succeed. i think this spans since like 2019? some of these are like two sentences, if even that, but i don’t care.

OUR FLAG MEANS FIX-IT!

Stede is just sitting down to breakfast with Ed when the door bursts open, and in comes his family

raris austenland

rewriting jane eyre from memory because why not

gaf + lovebug

ted lasso v-day ficlet

succession + emergency

ll valentine's day with richard and emily

Gg (two hearts emoji pink bow emoji flower bouquet emoji)

Lorelai wakes up early

ll post 7.22

luke and lor do the dance competition

ideal home + nuptials

Christmas Season, 2011

(christmas tree emoji) the tedbecca roykeeley holiday (christmas tree emoji)

more folly

gerri's pov

gerri dates pete davidson (?)

romangerri xmas party

The School of Rock Dewey Finn/Ros Mullins Endgame Fic That Everybody Dreams Of Without Knowing It

raris do beauty and the beast

ted lasso one bed

Wwdits - date nite

Rebecca dreams that Ted is painting her nails.

Angie has a pretty clear vision of how chaperoning Miss Pronstroller's class's overnight camping trip with Will is going to go.

ll - post 7.22 [i love how i have multiple versions of this floating around at all times apparently]

Home again home again

allison + patty

diana and josie

je modern

the dummy twins

niles/cc + "this reminded me of you."

ll au sequel

4.01

Laurie and Amy

G + C

I do not gaze at angels

penance + amalia

ted rebecca STRIKES BACK!

ted alexis

jeff/annie do jane eyre

hermione moves in

Disillusionment With Defense Against The Dark Arts Professors

dunder mifflin reunion time

to the return of tann!!!

I am not going to tag as many people as I have WIPs, because ......... for obvious reasons, so I’m going to instead cheat and say that if you want to do this, DO IT! That way, I could hypothetically be tagging as many people as I have WIPs.

[terracyte]

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

thank you for the tag @verdanthoney! <3

my writing wips have been sitting collecting dust ;-; theyre all written out in my head by not on the google docs- ask me about any of these if you want!! and hopefully ill be able to kick myself into action soon heh

flowers, fire, and oop-

a hus(bento) box for my beloved

please dont let me be misunderstood

tenfold

and here are the most non-descript file names for the art wips :))

angst lord

one bird on the hat

sleeping on the job dont get fired

squishy cat meltdown

damn bro you gonna hamter that

 ill tag @marriedzukka @the-hot-zone @that-was-anticlimactic @zukkaclawthorne if any of you want to!! :)

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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

CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot. 

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead. 

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects. 

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear. 

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders. 

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton. 

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay. 

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman. 

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes. 

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?” 

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to. 

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.” 

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!” 

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks. 

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding. 

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy. 

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session. 

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

[allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup]

Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing). 

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it. 

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago. 

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters. 

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing. 

She thought she’d never write their break up. 

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US. 

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment. 

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/- 

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed. 

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas. 

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

 -/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga. 

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind. 

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay. 

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find. 

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face. 

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again. 

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to. 

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her. 

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career. 

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy. 

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal. 

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?” 

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden. 

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.” 

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.” 

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name. 

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later. 

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today. 

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR. 

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week. 

“We had a meeting at 2:30.” 

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly. 

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand. 

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle. 

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days. 

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called. 

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off. 

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth? 

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months. 

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him. 

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid. 

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him. 

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut. 

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence. 

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating. 

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?” 

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?” 

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about. 

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment. 

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged. 

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye. 

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness. 

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break. 

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion. 

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received. 

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall. 

She is less. 

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before. 

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone. 

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.” 

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place. 

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do. 

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.” 

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth. 

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is? 

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.” 

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.” 

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop. 

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention? 

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

 “Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.” 

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way. 

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay? 

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove. 

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly. 

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it. 

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs. 

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing. 

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured. 

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history. 

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.” 

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. 

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man. 

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.” 

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door? 

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart. 

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it? 

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.” 

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word. 

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word. 

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it. 

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return. 

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.” 

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. 

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous. 

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.” 

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness. 

“Killian...” 

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.” 

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls. 

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it. 

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil. 

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his. 

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand. 

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. 

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps. 

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips. 

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear. 

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before. 

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book. 

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’ 

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end. 

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold. 

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love. 

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other. 

[wexhappyxfew]

Hiiii 🌼 1, 10 and 19 for the fic ask!

hello!! i hope you are doing well right now, and thank you for this! 💛

1. Do you prefer to break down and cry standing, sitting, or on the ground?

when i have my moments, you know crying over the littlest thing that isnt working the way i want it to in my fic per say, i will probably sit on the ground criss-cross applesauce or curl up on my side on my bed and have a good cry. sometimes it happens right at my desk as i write, whole head in my hands or down on the table sorta sob. i feel better after tho and get down to work LOL

10. If your favourite author found your fics, how loudly would you scream in horror (in decibels)?

probably a solid 70 or 80 decibels, like my yelling to someone through a noisy restaurant sorta thing. i dont think it would be too terrified, id be more along the lines of “oh someone has discovered my form of art!” :)

19. Which fandom best encapsulates the nightmare terror that is your saved writing folder?

BAND OF BROTHERS like straight up, no doubt band of brothers. i have my main story, but then for each character i have different scenes written out on random google docs, other docs for research and stuff open for information to be written down in. its a hot mess but that hot mess helps get my stuff out so 😅😅

thank u for this!! i actually really enjoy this!! :) 💛

[sml8180]

Haircuts

New D:BH one-shot! This one is actually inspired by THIS POST by @julientel. They make fantastic artwork, and I highly recommend checking out their blog if you’ve got the time.

This is also a pretty long one-shot, JUST over 4 pages on Google Docs (Times New Roman, 12 point, 1.5 spacing, if anyone’s curious).

Haircuts

In the weeks following the Revolution, Connor had basically moved in with Hank, seeing as he didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Connor had even been put on the police department’s payroll, along with other android officers. Hank had taken him to pick up some new clothes, allowing the RK800 to basically ditch his CyberLife uniform. They also picked up a handful of other things Connor would need now that he was living with the Lieutenant; some bedding of his choice, pajamas to change into after work, bottles of Thirium, a hairbrush and comb, and a couple of storage boxes for him to keep his things in. For the time being, they were still staying at Hank’s house, which only had one bedroom. Connor insisted that he didn’t need a bedroom of his own, considering that he was an android and didn’t need sleep, but Hank brought up the point that having his own room would give Connor a space to make his own. They decided that they would work on looking for a place with two bedrooms, which would allow them to have Sumo around, as well.

Over time, they started to develop a routine. Connor would always be up before Hank, and he’d prepare breakfast for the man. This didn’t always turn out well at first, until the android had downloaded some household protocols to help him. From there, Connor would make sure Hank got up on time, wanting to break his habit of being late to work. Connor would feed Sumo while Hank ate, and take the dog out while the Lieutenant got ready. When the android returned with the dog, he and Hank would head off to work. When they got home, Hank would take Sumo for another walk, with Connor tagging along, and they would relax once they got back, until Connor made Hank dinner and Sumo was fed again. From there, they would simply relax for the rest of the evening.

After a couple of months, Hank couldn’t help but notice that his hair was getting in the way more and more, to the point where it was honestly getting annoying. He also started to notice that Connor was brushing at his own hair more as time went on, though he initially wrote it off as the android just picking up the habit from watching himself. So, one Saturday, when they were both off from work, Hank got out a towel, his comb, clippers, scissors, a mirror, and filled a spray bottle of water, and set everything out in the kitchen.

“Hey, Connor,” he called out, hearing the android return from walking Sumo. “C’mere a sec.”

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, coming into the kitchen and setting Sumo’s leash on the counter. Hank was still trying to get Connor to call him by his first name, and while he did most of the time, he did occasionally still refer to Hank by his rank, instead.

“You know how to cut hair?”

“Not currently, but I can look up a basic set of protocols if the need arises. Why do you ask?”

“Because this is getting out of control,” Hank responded, ruffling his own hair a bit. “Was wondering if you’d be able to cut it. The barber I usually go to closed up shop.”

“I can try, if you’re sure about this,” Connor told him. Now that Hank had mentioned it, his hair was longer than usual.

“As long as you don’t cut me, it’ll be fine,” Hank joked, taking a seat on one of the chairs from the kitchen table.

Connor gave a quiet chuckle, picking up the towel from the table and wrapping it over Hank’s shoulders. As he got Hank ready, he looked up and downloaded some basic protocols used by androids who were in the business of cutting and styling hair. He sprayed down Hank’s hair with the water, running the comb through it to dislodge any knots and make it easier to work with. Once the comb went through smoothly, Connor picked up the scissors from the table.

“Just cut it to my jaw,” Hank told him. “About what it was in November.”

“Got it,” Connor replied, running the comb through the man’s hair and beginning to cut small bits at a time. A pleasant silence fell between the two as the android worked, trimming Hank’s hair. After a while, he finished up, using a hand towel to dry Hank’s hair a bit and then combing it back out. “I think that should do it.”

“Alright, let’s see how you did,” Hank mused, picking up the mirror from the table and taking a look. “Not bad,” he mumbled, turning his head a bit. “Actually, it’s pretty good. Nothing looks off.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with it, Hank,” Connor returned. He took the towel off of Hank’s shoulders, shaking the last of the hair off it, before grabbing the broom to sweep everything up.

As Connor swept, Hank started to gather everything back up to put things where they belong. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that Connor was having to brush his hair away from his eyes as he worked, as it kept falling into his face.

“Hey, Con, sit down for a sec,” he prompted, patting the back of the chair he had been sitting in not long ago.

“Is something wrong, Hank?” Connor questioned, looking up at the man as he took a seat.

“Just taking a look at something,” Hank replied, turning Connor’s head so he was looking forward and ran his fingers through the android’s brown hair. Just as it seemed, the android’s hair was a fair bit longer than it was originally. “How does your hair even grow? Is it because you’re a state-of-the-art prototype or what? And where did all these curls come from?”

“Hank?” Connor questioned, cutting through the man’s rambling. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah, this pile of curls on your head,” Hank answered. “Okay, son, that’s it. You need to do something with your hair.”

“But my hair is fine?”

“Do you even look in the mirror? It’s going deviant!” Hank exclaimed, ruffling the android’s hair. Connor only gave a bit of a snort in response. “What? It does look like it,” the man huffed.

“I suppose it is getting long,” Connor mused. “Maybe a bit of a cut would do some good.”

“I’ll get you sorted out,” Hank told him, picking up the towel from the table and wrapping it over Connor’s shoulders. “I used to cut Cole’s hair; as outgoing as the kid was, he hated people messing with his hair.”

“Not too short, right?” Connor questioned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just neaten it up, get it out of your face,” Hank confirmed, as he went to grab Connor’s comb. When he returned, he ran the comb through the android’s hair, getting out any knots and making sure that the longer portion at the top of his head was out of the way. “Think I’ll start at a six on the back and sides, blend it through, and trim the top. Won’t be a huge change, but it’ll be neater.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Connor told him, putting his trust in the man behind him.

“Alright,” Hank responded, swapping out the guard on the clippers and getting to work. He trimmed the back and sides of Connor’s hair with the clippers, making sure his edges stayed clean, keeping a hand on the top of the android’s head to keep him still and at the correct angle. He knew Connor would be able to keep his head still, but the habit still held up from what he used to cut Cole’s hair. After turning off the clippers, Hank sprayed Connor’s hair with the water to make it easier to work with, and started to trim the longer portion down, using his comb as a guide to keep things even. He took his time, trimming a bit and checking his work as he went. After a while, he set the scissors down on the table. “Alright, take a look,” he prompted, handing Connor the mirror.

The android took the mirror, looking over Hank’s work, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t say anything for a bit, but his LED was spinning yellow as he took in the new cut. After some time, he smiled, giving a bit of a chuckle. “I like it.”

“I thought so,” Hank responded, chuckling a bit. He took the towel off of Connor’s shoulders and shook it out, before sweeping up the hair into a pile. “We should probably brush out Sumo, while we’re at it, he’s shedding like crazy.”

Connor nodded in agreement, calling Sumo over to them. The dog lumbered over, his tail slowly wagging as the two men went about brushing out his coat, getting out any loose hair and knots. Eventually, they were able to finally clean up the kitchen, with all three of them now cleaned up, themselves.

Hank and Connor settled on the couch, turning on the TV. Hank scrolled through the channel selection, looking for something they could watch, while Connor pulled out a laptop he had gotten. He hadn’t really needed it, considering he could look things up himself without an external device, but he found that he liked to interact with something, and it made it easier to show Hank if he found something interesting. He also used a locked folder to keep a sort of journal, writing down his thoughts as he adjusted to having emotions and had new experiences. There were pages and pages of first-time experiences, and today, a new one was added; his first haircut.

[mfackenthal]

The MFackenthal Show and @maxattack-powell!

banner by @whenyourheartskipsabeat

Hello all!  Welcome back to the MFackenthal Show!  I am so glad that you are here today.  If you’re new to the show, I encourage you to go here to find past episodes.  There are only a few.

The MFackenthal Show has officially been green lit for more episodes!  We used to only be able to afford to run the show every once in a while, but the people have spoken - they want to see the show more often!  The funding came through and we hope to give the people what they want!  Do you want to be on the show?  Do you have someone that you want to see on the show?  If so - reblog or comment or send a message to let MFackenthal know!  We’ll see what we can do!  We have this show and two others lined up for you!

I could not be more excited to bring you this next guest.  She has been with the fandom for quite a while.  She was one of the first people I started communicating with on a regular basis.  She has talked me up, supported me from the beginning and though she hasn’t written much lately - when she does drop a chapter - it’s long and it’s worth it!  Please welcome to the stage @maxattack-powell!!!!!  (Insert Cheering here!)

(Megs greets Max with a hug - which means that Megs essentially runs and leaps into Max’s arms.  Max is fairly tall and Megs is barely 5′3″) 

Megs:  Max, I am so happy that you are here!  Can you believe that you’re here today?

Max:  Haha, yes - I can.  But I am honored to be here.

Megs:  Max, sit with me.  For those in the audience who may not know you, tell us about when and why you joined the fandom.

Max: Yanno, I always made my best guess at this before, but I knew you were going to ask me this - so I looked it up.  Did you know that now there’s this Official Tumblr blog called @memories, and it knows down to the minute when someone joined? Let me go check it… *digs through the blogs posts* Okay, it was apparently 07/31/2017 at 1:17:15 PM, which means it must have been on the weekend because of the time of day haha.

As for why ... hmm, well… I found the Choices app one day, when it only had like… three series I think! Anyone else remember that time? 

Megs:  I do!  Because I was playing Hollywood University I think I downloaded choices the day the app came out.

Max: Awh!  Well, I fell in love with The Freshman Series. Mostly because of Chris Powell and Zack Zilberg, and a long time ago I was in another fandom that had tons of fan fiction/art… so I googled “Choices Chris Powell” and any other combination I could think of looking for possible fanfiction. The fandom was almost non existent at the time. There was actually one person, who has long since left the fandom due to fandom dramas - we all know the kinds I’m talking about - but a few others had started posting their works as well… and I got hooked. Eventually I felt the bug to write how I felt TF should play out as well, and here I am *looks back at the “joined tumblr timestamp”* uhh… 20ish months ago!  Haha!!

Megs:  LOL, when you put it that way it doesn’t sound like that long ago ... lets call a spade a spade - that was almost 2 years ago!  That’s amazing!  You have to have seen so much in this fandom!  What is it that keeps you around?

Max: There are so many awesome people in this fandom, in this world we’ve all created for our pixelated loves lol. Soooo many creative minds to follow and enjoy. The content people share, original or repost… it’s great. 

... Unfortunately it is also a double edge sword ... the drama, the jealousy, the rumors, the hate, etc. I’ve sadly seen far too much and it comes in so many forms… it’s unnecessary.

Megs:  I couldn’t agree more!  If you could tell the fandom one thing - what would it be?

Max: It would be that we’re all here because we want to have a good time. No one came here to get ridiculed, to be scrutinized or chastised for their opinions, their likes or dislikes. Real life has enough of that going on. We are all individuals - if you want to be treated nicely, fairly, etc. you must also do the same to others. There is no reason someone must agree with you or anyone else. Live and let live. Embrace our differences as it makes us who we are. Most of the issues I see stem from a simple difference in opinion. That is ridiculous. Everyone’s entitled to their own thoughts. We must build each other up, not tear one another down. No one here owes anyone anything, now go have some fun.

(The room stands up in applause!)

Megs:  You should definitely stand up and take a bow, Max! 

(Max does just as Megs suggests - but she also makes Megs stand up and do the same. Laughing, they both sit back down.)

Awh, Max ... okay, let’s get back to you.  We know that you’d fight anyone for the position of The Chris Powell Appreciation/Fan Club.  And for those who don’t know, Max has been retelling the full The Freshman series, interweaving dialogue and plot from PB but also adding much of her own content.  MC and Chris get a backstory.  Chris gets best friends from back home.  What is your favorite piece that you have written?

Max: Oh geez hahaha. Um… can I just say The Freshman Chronicles as a whole? I’ve written for different fandoms, and I have original WIPs but I’ll stick to the Choices fandom for this answer. I’ve put a lot of time into TFC. Tons of additional story work, research on characters and their backgrounds, PBs and my own OCs. You should see my file folder setup haha. It’s crazy… I have so many docs, pictures and gifs. Most organized by location (Hartfeld, Boston, New Haven, Cherryfield, etc.), then by character… and on some I get more detailed and split them by emotion and situation.

Megs: By what again?

Max:  Emotion and Situation ... Yeah. I warned you it was crazy! *laughs* TFC was the reason I joined tumblr really. Instead of staying a Nonny and only reading others posted works. I wanted to comment, like and reblog what I enjoyed, while I also worked on my own contribution to the fandom. I had a vision for Chris and MC that had more than the game could give, and I wanted to see if i was still any good at writing since it had been years and years… it’s funny to see how different my current posts are from my first over a year ago. Makes me want to go update a few because they could use a little help *awkward laugh*

Megs:  I’m sure we can all relate to that!  Hmmm ... I’m starting to get a feel for this, I think, but what is your writing process?

Max:  Lots of planning, mostly in my head. When I feel like I have a decent concept I might type out some notes or work it into my outline (another crazy thing I have going for TFC because it’s so big haha). But usually, once I hatch out a basic plan on where I’m going… I just start typing. Keeping the general plot and main points I want to hit in mind, I simply start typing… keeping it as organic as possible. It usually works out well. 

Megs:  Do you have any advice for other writers?

Max: First, and most importantly… do it because you enjoy it. Don’t do it for likes, reblogs, popularity, etc. If you’re having a good time dreaming things up and typing them out, that’s what’s important. The rest is just an extra bonus. Also, don’t give up. It’s easy to become discouraged, frustrated, distracted and more… but remember - your creative cells can’t be running all the time. They need to rest just like your body. Take breaks… go read, play games, hang out with friends/family, watch a movie… whatever. Just do something to help you relax, to reset and you’ll very probably find inspiration and/or motivation to continue. Remember, this is for fun. *wink and finger guns*

Megs: So what do you do for fun?

Max: I actually have a few things I do regularly. A big one is making costumes/props for conventions, small productions, etc. I also train and show horses. I do the same with my dogs, but more for competitions and not really any shows. I’ve always drawn, sculpted, painted since I was old enough to hold things with my hands… and about a year ago I started learning how to do it digitally as well. I run (not at all for fun haha) and play hockey (totally for fun), follow comics and watch anime. I've restored houses, cars and old furniture. I like to read as much as I can - that’s an important one. I also play video games. Something I’ve done since I was young… I've even competed, and won, a few gaming tournaments.

Megs:  You don’t know how to be bored do you?

Max: LOL, Megs.  Yeah, um, so there’s a “few” *makes air quotes* of my never ending list of interests haha. Gives me a lot to talk about with people, eh?

Megs: Not that I can understand how you’d have time for this ... but what do you do to help pay for your many activities?

Max:  Oh like, my job? Well that can be a simple answer… like “I work in software” but the more interesting way to say it is I use my MBA, experience in business, the financial industry and technology to improve and stabilize my customers environment through technological solutions that fit their specific needs. *presses lips together* I solve problems by designing solutions. Bored yet? Hahaha.

Megs:  No!  That sounds wonderful!  Who doesn’t want their stuff to be designed better?  Any chance you could start working for tumblr?  Some of us have a few complaints ... tags ... mobile losing our work ...

Max:  I’m not sure they could pay me enough to help them with all of their problems!  But, tumblr, feel free to send me an offer!

Megs:  Seriously - send her a 6 figure offer!

Max:  Okay, Megs, well now I have a question for you.

Megs: Uhhhh, Max, that’s not exactly how this is supposed to go. 

Max:  Yeah, don’t care.  Your fans need to know ... Hoooow do you find the time to read and review so much?! And I know that’s just in this fandom.  I know you read books and you may read for other fandoms!?  Seriously, it’s awesome. We need to clock your page flipping speed haha.

Megs:  *blushes* Oh my gosh, you have to stop!  Here’s the key to how I do it ... I wake up at 5:30am and read for about 30 minutes.  Then I workout and start my day.  I read in line at the grocery stores.  I read on my breaks at work. 

Max:  Oh my gosh - you’re such a nerd and I love that!  Okay, nerd, what is your favorite thing to do, besides reading all the things of course?

Megs: This show, of course!  And, of course, getting people to do silly things on this show with me.  For instance - with as athletic as you are, I hear you can’t jump? 

Max:  Megs, shhhhh.  You told me you weren’t going to bring that up.

Megs:  I did no such thing! (Meg says while laughing) I said I might not bring it up.

Max:  Uh huh.

(Kris Kross’s “Jump” starts playing in the studio)

Megs:  Come on - show me what you’ve got! 

(Megs starts “singing” along and jumping along with the song. Max stays seated.  Megs finally pulls Max up into a standing position. Max plays along and “jumps” next to Megs - getting no air at all.)

Oh, come on Max - put some real strength in to it.  Jump! Jump! Jump!

(Max jumps and gets the smallest amount of air time.)

Max:  *laughing* Megs - I’m tall!  I don’t need to jump to reach things!

Megs:  *laughing* That must be nice.  I got good at this type of jumping because I had to learn to jump up and gently grab things from the grocery so I didn’t knock everything down.

*continuing to jump around the audience - getting everyone to join her* And that’s all for the show today today, folks!  Thank you for watching!!  Have a great night!

[mercurialmilk-deactivated]

I'm so in love with your art! Do you have any tips for someone starting a journal for the first time? Also I was wondering if you had any recommendations for supplies for beginners?

Thank you so much!! This is lovely to hear considering I havent posted my work to tumblr in ages.... 

Yeah, I’d say start with a sketchbook with really good paper quality (like... avoid the notebooks you can find in target or whatever with the pretty covers... they’re cute but you will soon get upset at the paper quality) and if you can find a thin sketchbook that’s best. Mainly because it means you finish it pretty quickly and it feels really good to complete a whole sketchbook, even if it’s small. 

Then find some art supplies. You can use just about anything: magazine clippings, markers, pens, glue, paints, etc... it doesnt have to be a lot or expensive. It’s more fun to experiment. And you dont feel bad when you use it all up or mess something up. Once you get an idea what you like to work with, you can invest in some good quality stuff. 

Then find some stuff that inspires you. I usually save images/quotes to a folder in a google doc. If i’m on insta or whatever, I screenshot it and put it all in the same place. This helps because when you have time to sit down and journal/make art, you can just bust out that folder and all your stuff is there instead of all over the place. 

Then just sketch, draw, cut up, glue, whatever!! until it looks like something you like! 

There’s also tons of prompt lists on tumblr and ‘challenges’ on insta. 

Just experiment and have fun!! 

[hydrospanners]

A-Z on the writing meme because I need to know absolutely everything immediately.

WELP okay but just remember you asked for what’s about to happen. meme is here. most of this is under a cut cause i’m longwinded as hell.

A. If you could rec a piece of music to accompany one of your fics, what would you pick? Why?

Um I absolutely was vibing to Lips by The xx when I wrote a wish your heart makes and you should too.

B. Who’s your favorite side-character from something you wrote?

I feel like the answer here is supposed to be Doc because he is not The Main Character in the game but also I have written about him and from his POV so much it feels unfair to call him a side character at this point. So instead I’m going to say this random woman named Cherita who was just trying to make a midnight snack for her pregnant wife from a little eggstra. I thought she had a lot of character for someone I pulled out of my ass for the sake of an outside perspective.

C. Get any good comments on your stuff this year?

I am thirsty for praise and I feel every single comment is a good comment but I think the one that sticks out to me is when I wrote a wish your heart makes someone said something like “if you like doc at all you have to read this” and I don’t remember who it was or where they said it but it really stuck with me!!! If that was you, thank you!!!!

D. Any drawings or pictures that had a big influence on your writing?

No!!! I feel guilty about this answer somehow but it’s true. I think it would be a fun challenge to try to write a piece of fic inspired by someone’s art so I may play with that idea next year (Editor’s Note: it was still 2k18 when I wrote the answer for this one) but for 2k18 the answer is no. :(

E.  Who’s your favorite main character you’ve written?

I feel like this answer is obvious but it’s my girl Rea. I’ve reincarnated her as an Inquisitor and a Pathfinder but the OG Jedi Knight is still my fave.

F. What stories are you planning for the future?

I won’t pretend that a lot of planning goes in to my fic. I normally only write short bits so it kind of goes like this: I have a concept, I write the bit I fixate on, and then it sits in my WIPs for five years until I get motivated during some Fictober or something to finally finish it.

I will say I do have serious designs to finally finish the second chapter of the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one as that one is a little more complex than stuff I usually write. I have plans to do some kinda flashback-y thing that finally lays out The Velaran Backstory in clear and obvious terms after years of hints and tidbits I’ve been peppering through my fic. I also have a thing planned and kinda partly written about the first instance of horrific violence in the lives of all the Knight’s companions. Also I have a long series of AU vignettes that glimpses into universes where Rea is a Sith or Kira never made it off Korriban or Rusk remained a pacifist or where Rea never joined the Jedi after losing her family the second time. Stuff like that.

G. Where do you think you grew the most this year?

Structure? I’ve been really working on trusting my reader to bridge some gaps and not letting myself get caught up in details that are important for me to know to write the next part but that don’t necessarily need to be in the story. I think I’ve really tightened up my game where trimming the fat and staying focused are concerned.

H.  How do you write? Paper, pen, computer? Music, no music?

My fic writing process is very different from when I am trying to write original stuff and is even kind of different depending on the mood I’m going for? I always write fic in Google Drive cause I write fic from a lot of different machines and need the easy cloud saving.

My ideal condition for fic writing is listening to instrumental music or ambient sounds playing through headphones either in a coffeehouse or the library or when I am at home completely alone. Angst and smut are best written at night with the lights low and warm. Comedy and fluff are best written in the late afternoon/early evening after one single alcoholic beverage (any more than and one I am drunk and no longer capable of writing).

Realistically though, I usually write in whatever time I have. Mostly at work. My job requires me to sit at a desk and wait for things to happen. Since I start work at 5am, things usually aren’t happening. Even with me going out of my way to create new work for myself and excel at what work I do have, I have a lot of downtime. I spend it writing fic. I get interrupted too much to have the focus I need for original writing, but fic writing is much easier so mostly I write my fic at this bland little desk under the terrible fluorescent lights with lots of noise and interruptions, occasionally playing a thematic playlist very quietly in the background.

I.  What’s your favorite work you did this year? Why?

This is a very tough question. Surprisingly, I published a lot of things that I really liked? ([not pictured: me high fiving me for finally allowing myself to state that I like my own writing]) I think I’ll go with when the wicked play if I have to pick just one. Relative to my other work I think it’s very structurally sound and thematically focused and pretty efficient with its characterization and imagery without ever getting too sparse. Also I’m a slut for examining the commonplace nature of violence and brutality in the Star Wars universe.

J.  What are the best jokes you told this year? Any jokes you thought were funny that people didn’t catch? Vice-versa?

I’m gonna say the pun I used as the title for bars and stripes. Honestly the whole fic is a joke and I like it and I don’t care if anyone catches it or not because I know that I am hilarious and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

K. Who have you killed this year? Why did they have to die?

No one, I think? I don’t think I even mentioned any specific off-screen deaths except for shit from the decades old Tragic Backstories. Not even Valkoriate. I’m not an especially murderful writer, maybe because I haven’t had to deal with a lot of that kind of loss in my own life. Mostly I write about things that are somehow adjacent to my own emotional state/journey. That’s why I fixate a lot on the weight of duty and moral philosophy and the nuances and complications of relationships, of how you can hurt someone and be hurt by them and still love them and how messy yet fulfilling the whole thing is. Thankfully--for me--not a lot of grieving the dead in there yet.

L.  Which character did you most write about this year, and why do you like ‘em?

Pretty sure it’s Rea. Maybe Doc because of the Docember thing I squeezed in at the last second but I’m still pretty sure it’s Rea. Pretty sure it always is.

There’s a particular kind of release I get from writing her because her whole sloppy person is a part of me that doesn’t often see the light of day. I won’t say she’s aspirational because I like who I am and I don’t have any special destiny or Force powers or anything to save me when the consequences of living like she does catch up. But there are pieces of her that I admire, pieces that are still part of me that I have a hard time expressing, and spending time with her gives me a little more strength to unlock those dark musty corners of who I am, I guess? Writing Rea makes me a little more bold, a little less apologetic, a little less prone to overthinking and anxious fretting and a little more prone to doing. She makes me feel strong enough to ask for the things I want and confident enough to feel like I deserve them.

Also she is a damn good time, even when she’s falling apart.

M. Meta! Have any meta about a story you’re dying to throw out there?

Of course I do. I could ramble for hours about the story behind any single one of my stories. Aren’t all of us creative types like that??? Don’t we all love to talk about what we were going for and why we made the choices we did??? What we liked and what we think needs improvement??? Why we wanted to make the thing we made in the first place???

I could ramble about this for hours and honestly the possibilities are overwhelming so I am not going to go into any detail and just say yes. Obviously I am willing to ramble about the story behind every single story I’ve published but there’s 63 of them so if there’s something specific you want to hear about you’ll have to ask about the specific one!!!

N. Anything you were planning to write that never got written?

Nothing will ever be “never got written” until I am dead and unable to write. I am still going back to WIPs from 2014. I am rewriting garbage exercises I wrote in 2013. I like to think everything in my WIP folder will eventually be moved to my Published folder and I am going to keep thinking that until I am physically incapable of writing.

O. Do you believe in outlines? Show us one!

I believe in them very much and yet I do not practice them usually. I rely on them more with my original work which is longer and more involved and doesn’t already have a convenient structure to follow in the form of 300000 hours of video game. Most of my fic is really short, just a single scene or so. I usually start out by writing the moment that inspired me to write the fic and fill in the before and after. I do have an outline for the second half of the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one but I don’t really want to share it for something that isn’t written yet!

P. What are your pet peeves in other people’s work?

This question makes me kinda uncomfortable so here we go with some disclaimers: I write the stories that I want to read or that I really need to tell to satisfy something inside of me and I assume other authors do the same. I don’t want to say anything here that might have a chilling effect on someone exploring some idea they really need to explore, even if it’s tired or cliche or offends my own tastes. Writing is very personal and I think everyone should tell the stories they want to, whether anyone else likes them or not.

That being said, I am always desperately wishing for more media about close, intimate friendships and familial bonds. As someone who isn’t interested in sexual or romantic relationships, it makes me weep basically every time I read a story about characters who are friends or family that give that kind of relationship all of the value and weight and nuance that you see romantic relationships getting. It is a very special kind of feeling to see that it is possible for people to value what I have to offer them as much they might value someone who will romance them and sleep with them. It is very validating to see the possibility of emotional intimacy with people outside of romantic/sexual partners.

But I would never want anyone to feel bad about or stop writing their romances and their smut. That stuff speaks to people and that’s what fic is about. Telling the story that speaks to you. I want everyone to write what they want to write and if that leaves gaps, well that’s why I started writing fic in the first place. There was a story I needed to read and no one had written it yet, so I did it myself.

TL;DR Genfic & friendfic & familyfic is the greatest gift anyone could ever give me, but no one should write to satisfy other people. Always write for yourself first and foremost.

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read his year. Can be your writing, or not.

I keep little quotes everywhere--index cards and sticky notes scattered among all my belongings, snippets on my phone, untitled documents on every cloud service there is, random word docs hidden amongst my many hard drives--but the only ones I can find right now are from @meonlyred‘s Dark Horse so please enjoy three bits from that fic that I loved:

They remained sitting on the floor, Rossa leaned against him, eyes staring into the distance. Her silence might as well have been weeping.

I just love how I can feel the vacant, numb quality of her despair in this line. How it feels more poignant for its lack of drama.

“You're an idiot and I hate your hair,” Jonas said over the rim of his glass.

I mean.... Do I need to explain this?

He had never believed in happily ever afters. Not for him, at least. But the cruelest thing about being with Rossa was that he had begun to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

Closing his eyes, Theron didn’t expect to open them again.

This little snippet still punches me in the gut no matter how many times I read it. It’s so relateable and so Theron and so painful.

R. If you had to rewrite one of your stories from scratch, which one would it be? What would you do to it?

I don’t think I’d rewrite any of them? At least half of my fic has been completely rewritten once or twice before it ever gets published so I mostly have it out of my system before anyone else sees it.

S. What’s the sexiest thing you wrote this year?

a wish your heart makes. It may also be the saddest thing I wrote this year which I consider an achievement. (I was asked for smut but I literally do not know how to write just smut without anything else going on in the story.)

T. Themes, motherfucker, do you have them? What are they?

The importance and nature of family (it is what you make it and not what you were born with! but sometimes you get lucky and get to choose the one you were born with!)! The cost/impact of violence and war! Failure and coming back from failure! The nature of what is right and what is wrong and how much responsibility any one individual bears for the moral direction of their society!!!!

I don’t think I’ve ever written anything that didn’t include at least one of these concepts and most of my stuff deals heavily in at least two of them.

U. Any stories that took a abrupt u-turn from where you thought they were going?

Yep! I was trying to make a stupid joke about a haircut when I started making take back what the kingdom stole but in working my way backward from the joke I ended up with a heartfelt exploration of my character’s past emotional trauma, her character growth, and the nature of friendship and forgiveness.

V. Which story was the most viscerally pleasing to write? Tell us your narrative kinks.

I don’t know that I would necessarily call the sensation pleasing but, once again, the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one was probably the story that made me feel the most, that I was the most connected to. It hit on every single one of the themes I find compelling and I really got to play with telling the story in the white spaces, which is something I really love. I’ve been working a lot on trusting my readers and not over-explaining and I think this story really saw the impact of that work, stylistically. It’s peak self-indulgence honestly.

W.  Who are your favorite writers?

Does this mean like authors of original published works or fic writers????? How am I supposed to choose???!!!! Either way my reading habits this year have been abominable. I have really been going through some shit, lifewise, (not bad shit but emotionally consuming and time consuming nonetheless) and I had to let the reading go a little bit.

I have been really into NK Jemisin though. Her stories are complex and challenging and there is so much poetry and power in the straightforward way she tells them. I also was obsessed with the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik. The characters were so textured and real with such clear voices and the relationships and ideas were so complex and compelling, yet the story never got weighed down by the heft of the subjects. She has a very light touch as a storyteller that makes her work so easily digestible without making her tale any less impactful or profound.

As for fic…. I’ve got about forty million fics bookmarked, waiting for me to get around to reading them and I am the worst kind of person because I have not yet read any of them. I’m behind on reading one of my very favorite fics right now. I think I’ve read a total of like ten fics this year and straight up probably only read that many because I was doing a bit of beta’ing.

I’m gonna do better in 2019 and I’ll get back to you on all the good shit I’ve read then.

X.  What’s your least favorite work of this year?

crapshoot. It was a really old concept that probably would have been better as visual art than a fic but my artistic talents were too limited so I wrote it instead. It could probably stand a little more meat and a lot more polish, but I don’t have the time to try and turn every goofy image in my head into a fictional masterpiece.

Y. Why did you write? For fun, for a friend, for acclaim?

For fame and fortune obviously. It’s why most of my fic is about a super popular ship in an enormous fandom.

Or, y’know… not. I write for fun and because I have to. Because there are stories inside of me I want to tell, ideas I feel compelled to explore, things I need to say. It doesn’t matter if anyone else hears them or likes them; I need to get them out of me. Also it’s a really great way to work through my own emotional turmoil at a safe distance, so I can engage with what vexes me without being consumed by it.

Z. If you could choose one work and immediately finish it, what would it be? How would you end it?

the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one. It’s the most self-indulgent thing I’ve written probably but it means a lot to me and if I knew how it ended I would have finished it months ago. D: