#and I’ve always known her to be so fiercely independent and private | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liunaticfringe · 4 years ago

Photo

(via Lucy Liu's Independent Woman - Interview Magazine)

There have been many great sidekick pairings in the history of modern literature. Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout, Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet…the list goes on. Yet, it seems there has never been a delightfully tumultuous relationship that comes close to echoing the one embodied by rogue detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful friend and assistant Dr. John Watson. Written in the form of short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the opium-den loving Holmes would terrorize London with his intellectual, astute, and stubborn prowess, with Dr. Watson providing medical expertise and chronicling their entertaining exploits along the way.

Doyle’s works have now long been entered into the public domain, with many film and television adaptions cropping up every few years. Still, when CBS announced in 2012 that it would be turning Doyle’s works into an hour-long crime-drama series titled Elementary, it elicited an unusually high response—this was mostly due to the news that a woman would, in fact, be portraying Watson. Her name would be Joan, not John. And she’s now a fallen from grace surgeon-turned-sober companion and private detective, forfeiting her “Dr.” title in the process. The woman chosen to take on this exciting, contemporary role of Joan Watson was none other than seasoned actress Lucy Liu.

Liu, who’s best known for her roles as a fierce and ill-mannered lawyer in Ally McBeal, an ass-kicking “angel” in the rebooted Charlie’s Angels, and an equally ass-kicking bad girl in the Kill Bill series, certainly provides the yin to the yang of Jonny Lee Miller’s gritty portrayal of Holmes. Elementary chronicles the duo’s relationship as they consult for the NYPD on various criminal cases while living in a shared brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Initially starting off in Season One as a substance-free friend to the fresh-out-of-rehab Holmes with a keen interest in solving crimes, Watson quickly transformed into a sharp and observant right-hand woman who now clearly has the aptitude to work on her own. And it appears she’ll be doing just that—the end of Season Two left viewers witnessing Watson’s decision to move out of the brownstone and start a new career as a solo private detective, seemingly fed-up with Holmes’ erratic behavior.

The warm and delightful Liu recently called up Interview from her home in New York City to discuss Elementary’s upcoming third season.

DEVON IVIE: Were you on set today?

LUCY LIU: I was running around like a maniac, yeah. It’s beautiful today, it started getting a little bit cooler again. But of course I’ve been bitten by the two mosquitos that are still alive in New York City.

IVIE: I know you were recently at New York Comic Con. How was it?

LIU: It was amazing. It’s such a spectator place. Not only do you get super fans, but you also get people who are curious and inventive and imaginative. It’s fun.

IVIE: Did you run into any cosplayers dressed as Joan Watson?

LIU: Oh, no, I don’t know about that. That’s funny! We did a panel with a huge audience so I couldn’t really see if anyone was wearing anything specific, but it’s an excuse for kids and adults to get dressed up and just be crazy. You know you’ve made it when you have super-fans out there.

IVIE: When you first read the scripts for Elementary, what was it that attracted you to the role of Joan?

LIU: I liked the fact that it was going to be about [Joan and Sherlock’s] relationship and their friendship, and bringing that into modern times. And I thought it was wonderful to change up the gender.

IVIE: Did you immerse yourself in Arthur Conan Doyle’s work as preparation at all?

LIU: I did, I did! I started reading the short stories. I never read them before so it was a really great excuse to read them. I can’t believe it was written so long ago, because it’s so current. The characters are so colorful, which is why I think there are so many incarnations of Watson and Holmes.

IVIE: Do you have a favorite story? I love “A Scandal in Bohemia.”

LIU: There were some pretty amazing stories. The one that stood out to me, which was a Watson story that I got to know him a little more through, was “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” He really is on his own in that. Of course it turns out that Holmes has been there all along, but it’s interesting looking into his interior.

IVIE: Yeah, the entirety of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is narrated just by Watson. And his diary and letters, too.

LIU: Yeah, I think it’s really cool. We started incorporating that into the show, too, the letters and journals.

IVIE: Has this detective genre always appealed to you? Did you grow up watching or reading detective whodunits?

LIU: I remember more of the old school Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys sort of thing. I also grew up with the Scooby-Doo mysteries. Remember when the villain would go, “I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you rascal-y kids!” Those were the kind of the things I immersed myself in. I have to say that my mother has always been a huge fan of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote, so this show was her dream come true. I don’t think she totally understood what was going on with Ally McBeal. [laughs]

IVIE: I’ve enjoyed witnessing Joan’s evolution throughout the course of the show, starting off as a sober companion and eventually ending up as a trusty sidekick and confidant to Sherlock. What can we expect from Joan in Season Three?

LIU: When you see them in the third season, you see some friction between the two characters. Joan is now on her own, she has her own detective agency, has a boyfriend, and has been without Sherlock for eight months. She’s got her own apartment, she’s settled, and he shows back up. I think she’s a little bit hurt by what happened and how their relationship and partnership ended, which was basically his decision and his choice, and he left it all in one little note for her. I think she felt that their relationship was much deeper than that, and that he was dismissive in the way that he handled that.

IVIE: How would you define the relationship between Joan and Sherlock?

LIU: I think that it’s a really positive and good relationship, overall. They really have a good chemistry together, work really hard together, and understand each other. They acknowledge each other and respect each other, which is a really important way to have a friendship. And they can learn from each other, you know? She’s very curious about him and I think he sees that she’s a very smart person—that’s vital for him in having respect for someone, having them be intelligent and thinking for themselves.

IVIE: Do you see any of Joan in yourself?

LIU: I do to a certain degree. She’s a lot more measured and patient, for sure. She’s a very curious person, which I think I am, and I think she isn’t afraid of change. She was a doctor, and then became a sober companion, and then jumped off and became a detective. I think sometimes it’s good to make big leaps.

IVIE: You’ve probably been asked this question many times, but do you think a romance between Joan and Sherlock could ever fittingly happen?

LIU: It’s a question that’s often asked and I think it’s really up to the executives. Rob Doherty, the creator [of Elementary] really feels incredibly strongly about keeping their relationship platonic. He has already taken great strides to keep the relationship as clean as possible according to the literature, but he has also changed so much of it by changing the gender of Watson. To have them have a romantic involvement would turn the whole thing upside-down in a way that might really jump the line. [Doherty] felt really strongly about it and I think that’s the one thing he really wants to stay true to.

IVIE: I totally agree. Even on the BBC’s Sherlock, there are campaigns to get Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and Martin Freeman’s Watson to become romantically involved. It’s like, enough already, no!

LIU: No way, that’s so weird! People do have that level of friendship oftentimes, but it doesn’t mean it’s physical. I think that everyone just assumes because there’s chemistry the next thing should be happening. I would vote “no” for a romance. I think for sure the creator would vote no on that, too.

IVIE: I’ve talked to both women and men who watch Elementary, and they all consistently mention how well dressed and fashionable Joan is. Do you collaborate with the wardrobe department on styling decisions at all?

LIU: That’s awesome. Yes, I collaborate with Rebecca [Hofherr], who’s the costume designer, who’s wonderful. She’s very easy to work with. One thing we try to maintain about Joan and her style is that she’s a bit wrinkled, you know what I mean? Sometimes it looks like things are really put together, but we always want to make sure things aren’t too tight and are comfortable, kind of like she throws things together. We don’t want it to seem so business-y, so we go away from suits. Chic, but not corporate. Also just to make her seem like her outfits aren’t so put-together all the time. But I’m glad that people really seem to like it, it’s a relief! We don’t splurge a lot on the show, we try to do cheaper things, like things Joan would wear a lot. She wears the same white jacket and shoes frequently.

IVIE: Will we be seeing more of the infamous Clyde the Turtle in the upcoming season?

LIU: Clyde will indeed be in it again. We have to share custody of Clyde.

IVIE: Is it true that Clyde is actually two tortoises? Pulling a Mary Kate and Ashley in Full House on us?

LIU: Yes. It’s just like having twins on a show. Just in case one is crying and screaming and passed out or something.

IVIE: You made your directorial debut for an episode of Elementary last season [“Paint It Black”]. Do you have plans to direct an episode again soon?

LIU: That was so exciting. I’ll be directing another episode again very shortly in December, so you’ll be seeing it in a month and a half.

IVIE: Where did your interest in directing come from?

LIU: I guess I was curious about it. Having been in this business for a while, you kind of see and get a glimpse of everything doing film and television. I think it seemed like a natural progression to go into directing, and I hope to explore more of it, because it’s very exciting and a really good way to collide all the things that you’ve known and experienced in the business and put them all into one.

IVIE: Is there an ideal guest star that you’d like to see on the show in the upcoming season?

LIU: I would love to see Mycroft come back. I really think there was a wonderful tension for Mycroft and Sherlock as well as the triangle that occurred when Joan became involved with him. There’s something very deep about that relationship, and I also think that Rhys Ifans is a fantastic actor. He commands the screen, but off-screen he’s incredibly lovely. A real treat to have on the show.

IVIE: I remember the first few episodes that I saw Rhys in, I was like, where have I seen this guy before? So I looked at his Wikipedia page and it became obvious: he was the crazy guy from Notting Hill!

LIU: Yes, the roommate! So good! Everything he does, he just kills it, no matter the role.

IVIE: And it’s always good to have some MI6 action on the show, which Mycroft provided. Some international flair.

LIU: [laughs] International flair, exactly, some added spice. Just throw some spy stuff in there to throw people off their game. You just don’t expect it, you know? It came out of nowhere.

IVIE: That whole three-episode arc at the end of the second season…

LIU: That was awesome. I was lucky enough to direct one of those episodes, which is more narrative in tone. It’s more fun in some ways, too.

IVIE: You’ve done a range of acting work for both television and film. Do you now find yourself preferring one to the other?

LIU: I love both of them equally. The lack of predictability with television is something that’s constantly changing what your perception of who you think your character is. Suddenly I have a father that’s schizophrenic, or I discovered something else, or I have a relationship with Mycroft. The things that pop up and change the game for you and always keep you on your toes. The wonderful thing about film is that you have something that has a beginning, middle, and end, and you have a concrete amount of time to shoot it. And the process of that can be longer, like editing and advertising and testing the movie, so it’s very different. Television you just continue going, no matter what’s happening outside of your world. You get lost in that vortex a little bit.

IVIE: It’s interesting that America is now embracing the “mini-series” format that has already been so heavily utilized overseas, where there are a set amount of short episodes, and that’s it. In a way, it’s kind of like a cinematic experience.

LIU: I like that, too. It allows you to have a freedom of creativity and at the same time you don’t feel like you have to be contracted to something for that long; you’re really working on a piece of art. And then you’re done and you move on, or it comes back, like Downton Abbey. You don’t know. Those things become little masterpieces. The thing about television is that you see a range of actors now that you may not have seen five years ago even, 10 years ago absolutely not, and I think now there’s no wrong about doing television. There’s no definitive category for what kind of department you fall into anymore.

IVIE: What’s a fun, secret fact about your costar Jonny Lee Miller?

LIU: A fun fact about Jonny Lee Miller is that he oftentimes does handstands on a wall before he does a take, sometimes with pushups, to get blood to his brain and get him geared up for a long monologue that he may have. He stays there, hangs a little bit, and then turns around and does the scene. Most of the time in the brownstone more than anywhere else. He’s in full costume and everything. That’s trivia!

IVIE: I wish I could do wall-handstands by myself.

LIU: Oh my god, I need someone to push my legs up and then hold me there. I’m a cheat!

ELEMENTARY PREMIERES THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30 ON CBS.

#Lucy Liu #Interview #2014 #comic con #jlm #mycroft #wardrobe #directing #third season #joanlock

40 notes · View notes

solacefruit · 4 years ago

Note

Not an ask from the ask game - but do you mind explaining how you came up with some of your worldbuilding for MAMS?

- The Elders arranging pairings for genetic fitness

- the winds

- Housekeeper names

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

Hello there! I don’t mind explaining the thought process behind these, so sure, I’m happy to chat a bit about these world-building features. This will all go under a readmore as usual, so answers below!

The elders’ role.

It’s my opinion that elders would be highly valued in every clan, although their specific duties and cultural role might vary. Even before I started writing fanfiction for Warriors I always intended to give elders significant political and cultural weight, and I had a collection of little thoughts about how that might look like. For many years, one of the things I knew Windclan elders did was essentially host a micro-democratic system--i.e., they would vote on issues after a long debate, so as to give each cat an equal voice in the final decision.

Some elements of Windclan life are decided exclusively by the elders in this way, and the arrangements are one of those elements. The arrangements came out of two thoughts for me: the first being that Wind (the founder) is a mother and a leader simultaneously, which I felt set a precedent for Windclan to allow mollies to have litters and hold power; and the second being the canon visitors to Windclan, whose purpose there was very unclear and honestly not really plasuible to me. In canon, they just come chill for a while and there’s not really any benefit to Windclan allowing them to do so.

So from those two thoughts, I went: okay, what do the visitors offer the clan that would incentivise Windclan to invite them back every single year? And the answer is fresh bloodlines, particularly as the cats of the visiting group change so frequently as they are joined by newcomers. Likewise, I considered what impact it would have for Windclan to have a leader who also had experience raising kittens, and the answer was that she had the insight to know an insular, unmoving clan would not last. Hence why she also came to an accord with the barn cats of the nearby farmlands.

The combination to those two factors made it clear to me that Windclan’s tolerance--and even enthusiasm--for the visitors came from early in their history as a failsafe against inbreeding, and it seemed right to me that the elders--who long ago would probably have been Wind’s closest friends, the cats who helped take on some responsibility while she raised her litter--are the ideal thinktank for tracking bloodlines and deliberating on appropriate matches for warriors. It seemed like a neat and realistic solution for several problems.

The nine winds.

I knew I wanted to include a significant and unique element of Windclan culture in m.a.m.s. because it’s the ideal environment to do so, being a bigger story than my previous ones. The nine winds developed out of both Doylist and Watsonian interests for me.

The Doylist (in-universe) reason is that canon suggests Windclan views themselves as intensely spiritual because of their position as closest to the stars and/or Moonstone (?)--but that didn’t really click with me, because all the clans feel they have a deeply personal, powerful relationship with Starclan. I felt there had to be more to their everyday relationship and “we sleep under the stars” doesn’t actually cut it for me as a notable cultural practice that justifies that feeling of connection. I wanted to be true to Windclan’s sense of being in conversation with Starclan, in a way that most suited their lifestyle and territory. Hence, the wind as divine messenger.

The Watsonian (out-of-universe) reason is that I considered Windclan’s supposed connection to Starclan and stars, and then I thought of astrology, and then I thought of “what if astrology but actually interesting and potentially valuable?”, and then I devised the nine winds. Sorry to anyone who finds astrology fun or valuable, but for me, I don’t really find it compelling conceptually because (and obviously this is a super basic, watered down definition, forgive me) it is predominantly about explaining who you are based on when + where you were born and accounting for why you act or feel the way you do.

That feels stagnant to me, so I wanted to take the concept of astrology and go, “what if it tells you who you can/should become?” and that felt very right and much more in line with stories I like to tell. I loved the idea of life as a work-in-progress, nebulously guided by ancestors, and I enjoy the difficulty in disproving the nine winds: either the wind is right because you could stand to be more x, or the wind is right because you became very x (as you should have). An emphasis on interpretation was important too, so that each cat has a personal relationship with 1. their own harbinger and 2. the day-to-day movements of the wind generally.

As a side-note, I was also aware that systems of categorisation--Hogwarts houses or whatever else--are very appealing to readers, and I had a feeling people would go a little wild for the nine winds as a concept. I’ve so far been pretty good at predicting what it is that people really like in my work, especially as far as world-building goes, and it always makes me excited when I know I’ve about to share something new that I think everyone will go a bit mad for.

Housekeeper names.

I wanted to achieve a few things with Cypress in m.a.m.s., and one of them was that I really wanted his relationship with Talltail to develop out of a cultural miscommunication that only becomes visible to both parties in hindsight. In the end, of course the relationship is very real, but from Cypress’ perspective, I needed something to push him to take the leap into the unknown, because I felt just curiosity and a desire for adventure weren’t quite enough to make him leave the comfort and safety of his home. But a noble, handsome traveller who turns up on his doorstep with interesting stories and a quest, who almost at once offers his name to Cypress in gratitude for his hospitality? The boy thought he’d fallen directly into a cat romance novel.

I also felt that the sacred secret of one’s name is a super interesting cultural counterpoint to the clans, whose names and naming system exist to be known and as a way to identify each other. I got the idea initially from Old Possum’s Book of Cats, actually, a long long time ago, and have always found the thought of every cat (and particularly pet cats) having a private name pretty delightful--especially as kind of this last fierce independence, the one thing that is theirs and theirs alone.

Personally, I also just love any kind of ritualised social conduct--another reason I love court intrigue. The sharing--or not sharing--of names has so many subtle little ramifications, and while I didn’t explore those in m.a.m.s. I love to think about it.

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

I think they all go together really well and a lot of what makes this story feel unique is the combination of all these little things happening concurrently--or at least that’s my theory! I think of all the things I’ve written in m.a.m.s. the nine winds are probably the most intriguing, though, by virtue of implying much but sharing only a fragment of the whole? But that’s just a guess.

I think the nine winds as a concept is the thing that is most specifically a me creation and probably the most unlikely to have been developed independently by someone else, so I’ll go with that! Admittedly I very rarely read Warriors fanfiction, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think there’s anything quite like what I’m doing out there at the moment.

Frankly if there was, I like to think I’d already know about it, because I’d be their biggest fan. Thank you for asking, and I hope these answers are interesting!

#reply #make a mighty sound

11 notes · View notes

furysreign · 5 years ago

Text

A Wip Re-Introduction

hi, my name is fin and i’m a 21 year old writer from the uk who used to post on the blog ivonoris until last year when life happened and i decided to step aside from writeblr for a while. now i’ve rediscovered my love for writing and have made a new blog to focus primarily on my main wip, fury’s reign, which currently is in the middle of its first draft and is standing at 70k words so far. i’d like to use this post to re-introduce this world to you, because it’s my baby and it’s finally progressed beyond one chapter and a bunch of ill-organised notes

himazaki ikeda had always been told that his home of kodo was the safest of any place within the three continents. however, when it is razed to the ground in an unprovoked attack by soldiers bearing the arms of the terrebravian royal family, he is forced to confront the fact that nowhere is truly safe. torn between the guilt of knowing that his cowardice is the only reason he survived, and the knowledge that the king and queen of terrebray ordered the attack, he must decide whether to live amongst the bones of his people or seek out justice for all that he’s lost. knowledge of what happened in kodo spreads quickly, and soon alliances across the continents falter. distrust worms its way into courts and palaces, rulers fear uprising, and common-folk and nobles alike all anxiously await the coming of war.

fury’s reign follows the story of six pov characters, and each of them has a different story to tell as they venture into a new and uncertain future. they are;

himazaki ikeda : a lost soul. misguided and alone. a fool's quest with no good ending. zak is deeply traumatised after the destruction of his home robs him of everything he has ever known or loved. a blank slate, he leaves kodo on a journey to kill the king of terrebray. it is a revenge he knows he will never take, but to die in the attempt of it would be enough to atone for his simple sin of being too scared to fight as foreign soldiers razed the city and slaughtered his people.

freya abatangelo : a prodigy. the most senior knight of the king's guard. brazen and bold. freya must face both her own guilt and enemies that cannot be seen when her journey takes her to the icy shores of dark harbour, a port town on the northeastern coast of grendelus. there, she faces a trial unlike any she has ever faced before, and both her courage and her mind must carry her through lest she die a terrible death.

iera vonoris : queen in a court that does not want her. uncertain but far from weak. iera is a woman of common birth. as a girl, she fell in love with a prince of five kingdoms. as a woman nearing thirty, and as a wife of a king, she now faces pressures she could never have accounted for, both within her court and outside it. things only get worse, however, when her husband is accused of a crime most unspeakably evil, and her world teeters once more on the precipice of war.

oisín cary : a knight of considerable talent. arrogant and yet troubled. there's pain behind his smile. his path leads him to the last remaining elven civilisation on the continent of terrebray, where he must learn to trust and face a foe far larger than his pride. he is a changed man from who he used to be, or so he tells himself. in truth, he is not so sure, and that scares him more than anything else.

kasim al-ahin : a nitherian knight. quick to anger and yet quick to love. a past he has yet to truly face. when he is chosen to act as a diplomatic aide to the king of terrebray on a journey to rijaltah--the place of his birth--kasim must protect what he once hated, and learn either to forgive the past or fall prey to it.

jin hé : an assassin of the liangyi order. it is all she knows. she begins to wonder if she wants something more. she grows suspicious of her emperor’s new advisor, and finding a child’s nightdress in the emperor’s bedchamber sends her on a quest to find the truth for his hiring, leading her to an answer that will change not only her life, but perhaps the very fabric of the world itself.

the world of fury’s reign is made up largely by three continents. these are terrebray, vandelia, and grendelus. each has a deep and rich history, of both good and evil.

terrebray is a land of five kingdoms, all united under one king and/or queen--as has been for the past 400 years. to preserve some measure of independence, each kingdom is bequeathed a lord governor to preside over his or hers native land and peoples. they may make no laws nor erase old ones, but they can carry out the king’s justice on some matters of minor import, though larger and more severe punishments require his knowledge and consent. beneath the lord governor are the ministers and the lords and ladies of the land, and beneath them come the knights to whom notions of long-standing chivalry are owed. the five kingdoms will get more detailed intros because otherwise this post will be three miles long oop

vandelia is the largest of the three continents, and hosts both kingdoms and city states across its western and eastern sides. the largest and most powerful of these kingdoms is nitheria, a land surrounded by the kahayra desert and all its many tribes. the kahayra itself is an independent land, and is the single largest desert in the world. notable tribe lands of the kahayra include jzharah, okoth, kojwe, and kabba. in nitheria, the king rules from his seat in rijaltah, however his health is ailing and soon he will pass the crown to his son, the crown prince raghib--a sickly boy of only eighteen. south of nitheria is the kingdom of nagonda, famed for its vast plains and savannahs in which one can find the most docile of the elven cities. east of nagonda is the kingdom of koveri, a grassland country made up of many nomadic tribes. further east is the tropical country of tuapo’e, a small and yet prosperous land that has remained fiercely independent despite countless attempts to invade and conquer by neighbouring kingdoms. yoruwat is to the north, where one will find the independent city of kodo where the story begins. finally, the kingdom of zefei, where one will find the independent cities of liangyi, taizhan, and the mysterious bengbei.

grendelus is a land of which little is known. the north is cold, colder than norgavik, and the people few and far between. settlements are found along the northern and the northeastern shore, and legend says that there is an elven city built in the northwest but that it is too cold for humans to trespass there. there are no kingdoms in grendelus, and so the continent has been divided into three parts--the north, the middle, and the south. middle grendelus is known for its swamps, vast and choking forests, and a community of magic-learned folk who practice their craft away from the unforgiving eyes of others, deep in groves filled with gnarled and knotted trees. it is also said that past the green is the sand of a broad desert, rockier than the kahayra and devoid of life in most parts. the only civilisation known of this desert is the town of rotheo. southern grendelus is even more unmapped, and is supposedly covered completely in dense jungle and rainforest, making exploration difficult for the select few who try to map it. it is known that there is a great city called taltehe on a vast plateau, so high above the jungle floor that scholars say to extend an arm to the sky in taltehe is to grasp the clouds themselves.

pinterest : https://www.pinterest.co.uk/Makokorro/boards/ (my fury’s reign boards are currently private but i’ll be changing that soon)

wattpad : https://www.wattpad.com/user/ivonoris

page : https://furysreign.tumblr.com/wippage

#tHIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY #writeblr #writeblr intro #wip intro #fury's reign

40 notes · View notes

strechanadi · 6 years ago

Text

Swan Lake - no longer a fairy tale

Right, so... Nobody asked me to, but something so marginal cannot stop me, clearly, so I went and translated the longest, the trickiest, the most profound review I have ever written. (And that includes POB Giselle, Swan Lake and Onegin! OK. Maybe not Onegin. But since I’ve done this one I can almost make myself believe I could give translating Onegin a go as well.) (She said and then promptly kill herself before she could made another clearly, completely and utterly deranged decision.)

Half of the things don’t make sense, I’m sure. And I can only hope they made sense in the original. (Which they probably didn’t, let’s be real, but since when this matters to me anyway?) (God, I literally cannot stop babbling, somebody strangle me or something. Or at least take the keyboard from my grabby and apparently very high fingers, that decided to simply vomit words after words for no real reason and with no brain to mouth/fingers filter whatsoever!)

It’s in times like this I truly wish to be able to write in an actual English language. Or for my mother language to be a world language, not some beautiful, hot mess, but a mess nonetheless, from the middle of nowhere. A mess I despite of everything love dearly and even live in this illusion of me being really pretty good in using (or more like playing with) it.

What is also clear - I, for a reason not known to humans, love to write absurdly, ridiculously long sentences. Be it just up to me, I’d write a whole review in one obscure linguistic construction I call a perfectly normal sentence. I was told however, that English doesn’t really do or like such things, so I tried to shorten them. Or some of them. Was really unbelievably succesfull doing so...

No reason to prolong this now, I guess?

So just, please be patient. Or benevolent. Or try to laugh in private at least! Look, I tried and I know it’s actually rather pathetic to be so spectacularly bad in English grammar, that I supposedly learnt from the age of 5 (but then spent more than 15 years actively hating the whole language, which... doesn’t make sense, I admit, but maybe explain some things), but... I mean, it would be better than google translate, if anything else. It HAS TO be!

As always - I appologize for anything and everything I did to the poor English language. It doesn’t deserve such a poor treatment.

Were there anybody who would feel personally attacked by my sheer ignorance of the basics of language of Shakespeare, Byron or Shelley and would want to make this thing better, let me know! (Even though I am afraid there are so many mistakes, your eyes will be bleeding around the end of 2nd paragraph...)

Last one - I have no idea how in/definite articles work!

(Good thing I don’t write fiction of any sort, ANs would be longer than the actual thing.)

Swan Lake, no longer a fairy tale

Whenever the two words – Swan Lake – were mentioned, everybody had some universally shared idea of the final picture. Nothing has drastically changed with John Neumeier (1976, Illusionen – wie Schwanensee), who mixed the original fairy story with events from prince Ludwig II of Bavaria’s life, nor with Mats Ek (1987), whose prince was torn between imaginary princess Odette and real life Odile, nor with Jean-Christophe Maillot (2011, Le Lac) and new relations between his main characters, not even with Alexander Ekman (2014, A Swan Lake), who came back in time and took a look at the first premiere of said ballet in 1877 and tried to make a rather poetic story about what from certain point was started to be called a fiasco. As if the later Petipa/Ivanov version needs any more boost…

The unshakable certitude was irretrievably broken in 1995 by Matthew Bourne. His Swan Lake was new, daring, bold, with unexpected twists and one could not left theatre feeling indifferent after seeing it. Part of the ballet world turned its back to such profanity of beloved classic. The other part fell for its captivating charm, and since in 2018 Bourne’s Swan Lake came back to his New Adventure’s repertoire for umpteenth time, after hundreds of successful shows, many tours across the globe, adorned with every possible theatre and dance awards, it seems clear who were right then, 24 years ago.

The most common characteristic of Bourne’s Swan Lake is „the male one“. Prince is in the centre of attention, black swan Odile is changed into unknown Stranger, and most obviously – all the swans became purely men’s business. Which opens completely new perspective for male dancers and saying that this ballet has a major influence to whole generations of artists is hardly an overstatement.

Bourne follows the original structure and basic frame of Swan Lake. There are still four acts, act one follows the Prince, his character, the environment he’s living in, relations he has, act two is for the swans, act three still represents the ball, and in act four, where traditionally the Prince is coming back to the lake, here the swans appear in prince’s room. Many times even the formal structure is intact – the prince’s solo at the end of act one, pas de quatre of both little and big swans, or Bourne’s take on character dances in act three. Even the entrée of swans in second act follows the same space structure of the Ivanov’s original /aka swans are coming one after the other and crossing the stage from left to right (dancers‘ perspective)/.

Oedipal Complex, repressed sexuality, low self-esteem

Bourne’s Prince, his personality, is more than ever influenced by his upbringing, by the estrangement of aristocratic background, his world constantly controlled, constricted by rules and rituals, with no spaces for affection, understanding, empathy, every emotion being replaced by duty. Bond between son and mother the Queen (ice cold, distant Katrina Lyndon for whom one cannot feel an ounce of sympathy, or more emotional, but still dismissive Nicole Cabera) is minute, almost non-existent, which has such a strong impact on the introverted, socially inept, insecure Prince, who is on top of all that haunted by strange dreams about swans. The feeling of lacking something gets even worse when he clearly sees his mother is more than capable of showing emotions, particularly towards another young men.

During yet another military parade or boat christening or exhibition opening, the heir to the throne is met with a bit silly, ill-mannered and completely unsuitable girl for his royal life (incomparable Carrie Willis, whose interpretation makes her character pretty sweet with candid, open-hearted warmth), who shortly after became his girlfriend and went with the family to the opera house to watch a ballet performance. Staging theatre scenes within the actual production /we call it theatre on theatre, which probably doesn’t make sense in any other language then ours, sorry/ is always very rewarding. Bourne is on top of that master of choreographic punchline and this scene (to pas de trois from Act I music) combines all clichés from romantic sylphs, awaken Floras, forest beasts to well-built male heroes one could think of and is a joy to watch for its grotesqueness as well as for the subtle details in gestures, ballet quirky manner or choreographic pattern for those, who know where to look for them.

The prince is trying to find his freedom in a night club, but to no avail. He’s met there unexpectedly with his frolicking girlfriend, then he got himself into a fight with one of her suitors (or maybe rather clients) and at the end his soul is beaten for good, when he has to watch the royal secretary paying some money to the one girl, whose affections he believed were genuine. (And it kind of doesn’t matter they most probably truly were.)

The only logical solution for the prince is a suicide. But before he’s able to throw himself into waters of a small park lake, majestic Swan appears and everything is changed at once. Traditional swans‘ corps de ballet danced by women is often associated with delicate elegance, crystalline beauty, dreamy atmosphere and aesthetics of homogeneously moving bodies. Swan is becoming a pure ideal almost as if from ancient Greece. Bourne’s swans are first and foremost animals, he’s not denying their grace, but is showing their slight awkwardness and ridiculousness in some movements at the same time. His swans are wild, independent, fetterless. Looking sinister when lining up to attack the prince, their physical, natural power strengthened by additional slapping arms, stamping feet, hissing and dangerously sharp, audible breathing. The Swan alone is very wary of the prince, uncompromisingly harsh, defensive, with sharp edges of aggressiveness that serves as self-defence of this imposing, powerful creature from anybody who would think of causing any harm. The almost imperceptible gestures calling the prince towards him are even more meaningful then, the moment when he nuzzles prince’s chest indescribably intimate.

Next evening there’s a ball at the palace. And even though it may seem the main reason of it is prince’s engagement thanks to all the ladies present, it’s the queen in her bright crimson dress amongst all black gowns who is in the spotlight. While her son doesn’t even know, what he should be doing with all said ladies. Break from routine comes with mysterious Stranger, whose raw, animalistic charisma draws every female’s attention to him, which he welcomes with great satisfaction. At the same time it also affects, quite unintentionally, the utterly unprepared prince, because Stranger’s arrogant dominance has something from Swan’s animalistic fierce. /Dear English language, you have many words. More than my mother language. But you have exactly nothing that would or could match prchlivost. Or at least I am unable to find it./ As Odile in original libretto, the Stranger dances his way through character dances (the Neapolitan one stands out with its light-hearted fun it makes of cliché Italian relationships) and finds his dancing peak in duet with the queen (music of so called Black Swan Pas de Deux). It is when prince’s psyche breaks and he, in his imagination, is thrown in arms of unknown to be faced with intimacy, sensuality, sexual tension and even the most basic physical contact, everything so strong even person of sound mind would probably find it difficult to cope. Therefore, when the Stranger kisses the queen, prince is there with gun in his hands and complete madness in his eyes. In chaotic situation gunshot is heard (although not by prince’s pistol), prince’s girlfriend falls dead and terrified young man is drawn away.

The tragedy is inevitable. To padded cell, where the prince is held, come doctor with the queen followed by group of nurses with queen’s face, whose hairstyle and white uniform may resemble the demonic nurse Ratched from the Miloš Forman’s film Flew over the cuckoo’s nest. After certain medical procedure (just shy from lobotomy) the prince is taken to his room, where the miserable, wounded Swan emerges from his bed. Shortly after he is followed by irritated flock of other swans, that throw themselves unbridled on the young man and then even on their supposed leader, doing so with brutality growing with every Swan’s desperate attempt to save his prince. The Swan dies at the end after their fatal, almost fanatical attack. And with him die prince’s illusions, dreams, hopes and then he himself. So when the Queen comes in the morning, all she finds is her son’s dead body, the sight of the Swan embracing his prince behind the bed the only, yet bittersweet comfort for the audience.

As many other versions of this famous ballet, this too strengthens psychological aspect of the story and deepens characters‘ personalities. Here, more than ever, the contours of main characters are pretty blurry. The prince and the Swan are blending into one, they are reflected in the other, full of opposites they are complementing each other, one would say they are like two sides of the same coin. /Ha!/ Bourne on top of that let his characters to blend with different original ones. Where in traditional Swan Lakes it’s Odette weeping at the beginning of the last scene, here it’s the Prince, who is going through mental breakdown in striking resemblance to Giselle’s mad scene. The role of Rothbart, the sorcerer, is played by the royal secretary as well as prince’s own mother, who at the same time plays a part of original Siegfried during the act 3 ball, when being seduced by Stranger, who is Odile. What may seem as confusing chaos at first sight, makes perfect sense in the end and strengthens the unquestionably dark tones of Bourne’s choreographic vision.

Artistic approaches or One man’s meat is another man’s poison…

As it always is with story ballets, individual artistic interpretation is something that has the power to change the final image of said piece. In case of Bourne’s Swan Lake and its current stars, the outcome may be completely different with each cast.

Where Liam Mower was bored, annoyed, slightly defiant teenage Prince, Dominic North’s hero was more tired, depressed young man with no illusions, very well aware of all his flaws and inability to fulfil all expectations of his social role, while James Lovell, who seemed most out of touch with reality, emphasized prince’s childishly pure, honest naivety. If the suicide attempt of Mower’s prince was more than anything a dramatic gesture, North was simply resigned to its inevitability, and Lovell threw himself into the waters with absolute, desperate abandon, his mind not able to see any other solution. Each and every prince is then influenced by his Swan and Stranger (and every Swan and Stranger by his prince).

Matthew Ball, the newest principal of the Royal Ballet, can rely on his first-class technique as well as on his unquestionable elegant stage presence. His pliable body felt the music to its very last molecule, every movement full of regal charm and classical beauty, which in a way brought Ball closer to traditional, delicately soft, feminine portrayal of Odette. His Swan was untouchable in his impeccable perfection, icily confident, aware of every gesture he made, of every prince’s fascinated glance. Max Westwell, former soloist of English National Ballet, concentrated more on the raw temperament, natural animal distrust, physical power and ferocity combined with enigmatic magnificence. Dynamics of his movements escalated at all times, was full of unexpected turns and transitions from strong, energetic endings, to exhalation captured in casual, seemingly ordinary movement of hanging wrist.

As the Stranger Ball looked like smug dandy enjoying himself and all the attention, all too well aware of his own youth and beauty, that make everybody fall for him. Personally though I couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t as in charge as it might look at the first sight. He was mocking his prince, showing off ostentatiously. Weswell on the other hand was the embodiment of pure, uncompromising charisma. Interactions between him and Mower’s prince, who was impressed by Stranger’s unconventional, rough manners at first, was quickly becoming a tense fight for power, the prince trying to prove himself worthy of Stranger’s attention, to prove he’s his equal. With Lovell’s prince the seducing, open flirting, blatant sexuality was much more evident, which combined with this prince’s ingenuous innocence made the final picture unpleasantly sinister.

Regardless of different casts, ending of the ballet became a real emotional roller-coaster. With Matthew Ball and Dominic North equal in their complete despair when being sure of the inevitable death of their partner. Ball’s total resignation the more palpable, the more he was stubbornly, despite his injuries trying to stay or at least look unaffected on the outside. Change of Westwell’s Swan, in act 2 so independent and powerful, was shocking. Now he was utterly, hopelessly, painfully broken. He was defending both his princes against furious swans with rabid determination, with no self-preservation whatsoever, with perfect, devoted abandon. Bond between him and James Lovell’s prince was then strengthened by certain feel of responsibility, by tenderness that felt almost motherly. He was not only trying to protect, but to sooth, to give some comfort to his prince as well with physical contact, with touches stronger, more frequent, more expressive, more meaningful. That was why prince’s positively hysterical, agonizing grief hurt almost physically then.

Bourne managed something extraordinary. His Swan Lake with costumes by Lez Brotherson is as iconic, as legendary as the original ballet. His vision as strong as let’s say Ek’s Giselle. What’s more, Bourne’s ballet doesn’t age, it hasn’t lost any of its impact – thanks to slight costume, dramaturgic and choreographic changes, that only strengthen its drive. Prince’s hinted homosexuality won‘t shock anyone anymore as well as men swans won’t provoke such controversy, true. But thanks to these examples it is evident, that Bourne’s ballet is so much more than just a gay version of one famous story…

For everybody who actually reach the end of this madness - congratulations. And I am sorry.

#ballet #review #swan lake #matthew bourne's swan lake #selfpromo

15 notes · View notes

justicestrauss · 6 years ago

Text

Heartbreak and The Growing Pains of Love

I grew up not thinking much about romantic love. Any eldest daughter of Somali immigrant parents might tell you a similar story. I didn’t regularly witness kisses freely given or bold displays of affection. I knew, of course, that my parents were good friends. I overheard the laughter coming from their bedroom during private morning conversations; many times my father would speak highly of hooyo when she was not around to hear it; and, when one of them returned from their travels, there was a kiss on the cheek and a brief, welcoming hug as the suitcases were carried into the living room.

Romantic love, for me, was some mysterious connection that kept my parents committed to each other, and loving towards their children. Romantic love was never on display, and was always shrouded in a sense of unknowingness. So for me, love was never anything to actively aspire towards.

I fell in love for the first time when I was twenty-two years old. I wouldn't say that I was avoiding love at the time, but I most definitely wasn't seeking it out. I had all these dreams and goals that preoccupied my mind— I was intent, for instance, on pursuing my dreams of advocacy and attending law school. I cherished and fiercely sought to protect my independence and autonomy— in other words, I didn't want the compromises that came with a relationship. I also still viewed love as a profoundly normal and mundane occurrence. For the life of me, I couldn't understand society's obsession with something so normal. Love was a Sunday morning chatting in bed with your best friend, sometimes surrounded by your children when they hopped in with you. It was nice, but I couldn't understand the hype. So I really wasn't going out of my way for it. I figured it would show up someday, but overall, I wasn’t too concerned.

It's weird how it happened. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes at my own seemingly cliché and dramatic storytelling, but it all started with a thought:

You know, if that boy were ever interested in me, I would give him a shot.

In hindsight, I can see how this thought set me on course to get to exactly where I needed to be today. But at the time, I was really just freaked out, and very curious.

What the heck Halla?

Where did that thought come from?

And what does that even mean?

The insight was of a very different nature than the sorts of things that normally preoccupied my mind. It might have been the sheer unexpectedness of the idea that sparked my curiosity and pushed me to seek some answers.

The boy himself was quite unassuming. I had met him at an event for the first time when I was twenty-one, a year before we became friends. He was quiet, but I guess I've always had a thing for quiet guys. He had a disarmingly sweet smile, and eyes that you could only describe as kind. I never thought much about him before that random thought came into my head as I was crossing campus, trying not to be late again to my next class. The fact that I knew very little about him, however, was no deterrence. It only served to intensify my fixation with figuring out where this insight came from, and what in fact was so special about him.

So I observed. I went out of my way to talk to him, and to get to know him. I learned quite a bit. We were in the same student club, so we had many mutual friends, and had the chance to spend time together. He was thoughtful. He went out of his way to do things for others. He was so very kind, caring, and gentle. He didn't take himself too seriously, but he had a deep sense of sureness of himself, an inner confidence that was all the more attractive because it was not accompanied by an iota of arrogance. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone, and so he never tried to. He is one of the few people whom I can say has very close to no ego. He would apologize and take responsibility when he made a mistake. He would listen, and he always wanted to learn. He was humble, and I learned many lessons about life, gratitude, strength, spirituality, and building excellent character from him.

As I paid more attention, and as we talked together more and more often, I found myself caring deeply for him. We became good friends, and for a brief time, we learned so much from one another. I felt exceptionally safe around him, and comfortable. I felt warmth and familiarity and the space to be my most genuine, authentic self. I felt a strong desire to share myself with him, even as I was so intrigued to know more about him. I can only describe it as a time and experience that was deeply heartwarming and lovely.

The problem, however, was one of unrequited love. As much as I could sense that I had unwittingly gotten myself into a situation where I now had very strong feelings for this boy, I knew in my gut that he didn't feel the same. This knowingness elicited from my heart a kind of pain, sorrow and loss that I wasn't aware was possible until I was confronted with it. I tried to spare myself the experience of hearing it directly from him. I convinced myself for about a year that I could move on all by myself. Eventually though, I completely fessed up and told him how I felt, baring it all in one exceptionally courageous, though not well-thought-out, moment.

In the kindest, most compassionate way, he told me that he didn't feel the same. He shared that he valued my beautiful heart, that his feelings had nothing to do with how wonderful I was, and that he was deeply grateful for our friendship and how much we had learned from one another. But he didn't feel the same way.

I'm not sure if there is a way to explain the pain and loss of heartbreak if you haven't experienced it for yourself. Whoever came up with the term “heart-wrenching” definitely knew what they were talking about: at times I felt as though someone was holding my heart in their bare hands, wringing it out as you would a damp cloth. My experience of heartbreak was further compounded by my insistence that I had never wanted any of this anyways! I had followed and trusted my curiosity and affection, and it had landed me squarely in the middle of heartache and loss.

This experience though, however trying it was, served valuably as an exposition of my fears. I realized that I was someone who fundamentally believed and feared that there was something inherently and deeply unworthy about my self. As many of us do, I had had experiences as a child where my truest, most authentic and caring self was rejected by the other kids as “too much.” Raised in community housing neighbourhoods in Toronto, the precise phrase was known as “being extra.” Others labelled me as too much, “extra,” a loser who wore her heart on her sleeve. Over the years, I had internalized this message, and it became a core belief of mine. The result was that I viewed this new experience of unrequited love through the same lens: it was a rejection of my truest self. I thought to myself, I have shared with him the most vulnerable parts of my self, and still he doesn't love me as I love him. I was right, I will always be rejected. I am such a huge loser.

At the time, these thoughts were all I could believe about myself. I was drowning in my own judgment and shame. Looking back at it now, however, I see this experience for what it was: a unique set of circumstances cultivated just for me, so that I, Halla Ahmed, could learn the lessons that I needed most to learn in my own personal growth journey.

Looking back, I see that I needed to experience heartbreak by one of my dearest, most cherished friends, so that I could learn a few things:

That my value and worth did not diminish because this boy didn't love me.

That heartbreak could crack open my tightly locked and guarded heart to the experiences of kindness, closeness, and loving companionship.

That the love I felt wasn't less meaningful because it didn't lead to a romantic relationship; rather, it was especially meaningful because it transformed me: love is transformative.

That vulnerability sucks. It is so hard, and asks so much of us. But without vulnerability, I would never have known one of the kindest, most confident, and humble people I know. I would not have learned about the qualities that I appreciate in a person, and I would not have learned that love is kind, love is good, and love is worth seeking.

Sharing myself with this boy and being vulnerable allowed me to open up my heart to love. And the heartbreak itself forced me to reckon with many of my negative beliefs about myself. It forced me to turn and shower my own love onto the hurting, unhealed places inside of me. Love and heartbreak forced me to become better and to grow.

And so if you are wondering how I view love today, I can tell you this. I still think that love is weekend mornings in bed with your best friend, laughing and intimate. What has changed is that I now understand that love is worth looking for. In my case, worth opening up and changing for. And definitely worth experiencing heartbreak and the growing pains of love for.

#gratitude #growingup #love #life #lessons #spirit #faith #trust #heartache #heartbreak #loving #inner #peace #purpose #honesty #courage #vulnerability #truth #growth #connection

1 note · View note

lionheartslowstart · 6 years ago

Text

Eulogy

I read the following at my Grandmother’s funeral on Friday, March 15th, 2019:

When my brother and I were little, going to Grandma’s house meant toys. We always knew that our grandmother would have presents for us, and they were always awesome. Grandma said that it was her job to spoil us. We used to take the pillows off of her couch in the basement and make forts. And these were some pretty serious forts. Those bulky cream pillows with the teal and lavender stripes were perfect for keeping us sheltered from the BoILeR rOoM, where the monsters lived. Grandma always gave us snacks that weren’t always “mom approved,” and she somehow managed to put up with my ridiculously picky taste (which I’m guessing was “mom approved”). “Cuddly” was a word that was thrown around a lot, mostly by me, to describe my grandmother. She was always ready for a hug and a kiss, and curling into her felt like holding marshmallows. When I was sixteen, I told my grandma that I was queer. We were sitting at the table in my mother’s kitchen and my mom was cooking food for us. I remember nervously blurting out the words “Grandma, I have to talk to you,” not sure what to expect. I will never forget what she said to me when the secret that I had been holding in for two years erupted from my chest. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve known that since you were a little girl. Is that all you had to tell me?” I nodded, and she turned back to my mother, “So anyway, Elisa...” It took me an extra second to absorb that moment, because I wasn’t really sure what had just happened. She was so genuinely unsurprised. Her face made no changes whatsoever. No sudden crinkle or movement that might give away that it was all an act. Matter-of-fact, clear, unfazed. This moment was the beginning of my understanding that my grandmother was a truly remarkable woman. As I got older, I began to spend a lot more time with Grandma, and I’m so glad I did. We all know that my grandma was incredibly private, but on the rare occasion she let something slip out, everyone in the room was lucky to witness it. Grandma was one of the smartest women I’ve ever known. I would often seek out her advice, and I never walked away unsatisfied. She spoke with such grace and gravity that you knew whatever she said was the truth. Grandma was tough, too. She was fiercely independent, and she had this aura of strength that just radiated around her all the time. But underneath it all she was so full of love and tenderness for us all, and she wasn’t afraid to make sure that we knew. Anita was our matriarch. Life will be so strange without her, but I know that she will continue to watch over us, as she did when she was alive, and spread her love over us the same way the sun shines down on blossoming flowers. Heaven has gained a rare soul. I’m sure God and the other angels know how lucky they are to have Anita among their ranks.

0 notes

theenchantedecho · 2 years ago

Text

The Mysterious Life of Alice Lestrange: Auror and Rumored Member of the Order of the Phoenix

Written by "Gossip Ghost"

Hey there, ghosties! Are you ready for some tantalizing gossip about Alice Lestrange, a former Hufflepuff and rumored member of the Order of the Phoenix? We've got all the juicy details on this pureblood witch and Auror.

Alice Lestrange is a formidable force to be reckoned with. As a 28-year-old Auror, she has made a name for herself in the wizarding world for her skills as a fighter and detective. However, there have been whispers about her involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group known for taking on dark forces and fighting for justice. Alice is not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for what she believes in, even if it means going against the norm.

But Alice is not all work and no play. She has a wild side, with a love of adventure and a reputation for being fiercely loyal to her friends. She is also known for her unique perspective and willingness to challenge traditional norms – just look at how she insisted on being called "Alice" instead of her given name, Alessandra! This independent streak has served her well in both her personal and professional life.

Despite her tough exterior, Alice has a heart of gold. She is deeply caring and compassionate, with a strong sense of empathy. It is no surprise that she is so well-respected and beloved in the wizarding community. Lily Potter, one of Alice's closest friends, said: "Alice has always been there for me, no matter what. She's fiercely loyal and always willing to lend a listening ear or a helping hand. And I know I can always count on her to tell me the truth, even if it's something I might not want to hear. She's just an all-around amazing person."

Sirius Black, another one of Alice's friends, had this to say about Alice: "Alice is one of the most driven and passionate people I know. She's always striving for more, whether it's in her career as an Auror or her rumored work with the Order of the Phoenix. And let's not forget that she's not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for what she believes in, even if it means going against the grain. I have a lot of respect for Alice – she's an inspiration to us all."

Alice's magical abilities are also highly respected by her peers. It's rumored that she's mastered a number of complex spells and curses, and has even developed a few of her own. Her skills in dueling and defensive magic are unparalleled, making her a formidable opponent in any situation.

There have been whispers about Alice's love life as well. Some say it's a fellow Auror, while others claim it's a high-ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix. But the truth remains a mystery, as Alice has always been tight-lipped about her personal life. One thing is for certain – whoever this mystery man is, he must be pretty special to have caught the eye of a woman as formidable as Alice Lestrange.

"I remember seeing Alice and this mysterious man out on a date at the Leaky Cauldron," said an eyewitness. "They were laughing and having a great time, and it was clear that there was a strong connection between them. I'm not sure who he is, but he's definitely got to be someone special to be with someone as amazing as Alice."

"I've heard rumors that he's a colleague from the Auror office," said another source. "Apparently they met while working on a case together, and it was love at first sight. But again, this is all just speculation – no one really knows for sure."

Despite the rumors and speculation, Alice has remained tight-lipped about her love life. It's no surprise, really, given the danger and excitement of her work as an Auror and her rumored involvement with the Order of the Phoenix. Alice is known for keeping her private life private, and who can blame her? With all the chaos of the wizarding world, it's nice to have some things that are just for you.

But one thing is for certain – whoever this mystery man is, he must be someone truly special to have caught the attention of Alice Lestrange. It's clear that Alice Lestrange is a woman to be admired and respected. Her dedication to justice and her fierce determination make her a force to be reckoned with in the wizarding world. And while we may not have all the details on her rumored involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, one thing is certain – Alice Lestrange is someone you don't want to mess with.

In conclusion, Alice Lestrange is a multifaceted and highly respected member of the wizarding community. From her career as a skilled Auror and rumored involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, to her independent streak and love of adventure, Alice is a woman to be admired and respected. While her personal life remains a mystery, it is clear that she is fiercely loyal to her friends and deeply compassionate towards others. Alice Lestrange is truly an inspiration to us all.

@alessandraesmee

#gossip ghost #ch:Alice Lestrange #ch:Sirius Black #ch:Lily Potter

0 notes

sun-summoning · 7 years ago

Text

summary: mutsu and kagura in space

their stowaway doesn’t try very hard to hide her presence. really, she doesn’t try at all. complaints about some ravenous little earthling bullying the staff in the kitchens brings mutsu down to deal with their guest. she might be young, but mutsu knows this girl is another yato based on their previous encounters and she understands she would be the best one to confront the kid.

“why are you here?” mutsu asks.

“i was hungry,” kagura replies between bites.

“why are you on this ship?” mutsu rephrases.

“i was bored.”

mutsu frowns. “this is a place of business. this is no place for children.”

“i’m not a child,” kagura protests, lowering her bowl onto the counter with a loud thud. she glares at mutsu, but the venom in her eyes is covered by the lingering rice around her lips. “i’m fourteen.” she pauses. “and three quarters.”

when she was fourteen, mutsu was the heiress to a fleet of space pirates and traded slaves like any other commodity. the girl before her is just as small and just as fierce, but her emotions flicker over her face so easily.

mutsu sighs. “is your--” she mulls over the right word, “caretaker aware that you are here?”

“gin-chan?” kagura wipes her face with the back of her hand and then wipes that hand on her dress. she shrugs noncommittally. “i might have left him a letter.”

“might have?”

“i didn’t.”

“so he’s unaware.”

“i told sadaharu!”

mutsu recalls the dog in question and recognizes how unhelpful him knowing will be when gintoki realizes kagura is missing and raises hell. she takes a breath. she doesn’t yell at the crew and only really ever raises her voice at tatsuma if anyone, so she won’t yell at this foolish child.

“why are you here, kagura?” mutsu asks once more.

perhaps it’s the use of her name that makes the girl falter. her hands link behind her back and she begins to shift, suddenly shy. mutsu has met this girl a handful of times, and at no point would she ever have called kagura anything akin to meek.

“i’ve only met a few yato before,” kagura mumbles. “aside from my family, i mean.” she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, silently stalling. when she finally looks up at mutsu, her cheeks are dusted with pink. “you’re the first yato lady i’ve ever met aside from my mami. you’re like me, yes?”

mutsu doesn’t think she’s anything like this girl.

“sorta,” kagura corrects. “mostly. whatever.” she shrugs, looking down at her feet. “i thought we could hang out?”

that definitely wasn’t what mutsu was expecting. “hang out?” she echoes.

kagura nods. “hang out!”

runaway child or not, the kaientai has a strict schedule they need to adhere to and don’t have time to drop off a little girl on earth. the earliest they can do so is in ten days, and while kagura says she’s fine with that, tatsuma is not.

“kintoki will be upset!” he points out.

“the fact that you call him kintoki tells me you don’t care all that much about whether of not he is upset.”

she would send the captain to make the delivery, but something tells her that setting him loose in edo would only result in a week of drinking and partying. and if not that, she imagines kagura would just bully tatsuma into letting her have her way.

mutsu considers the deliveries and pick-ups they’ll be doing soon and then the costs of lugging around a fourteen-year-old yato. she almost smiles when she considers the impact kagura will make on their provisions.

she turns to kagura after removing any mask of amusement.

“this isn’t some luxury ship,” mutsu states, “so you’d best not expect any five star accommodation.”

kagura picks her nose as she explains that she sleeps in a closet.

despite kagura’s initial request, mutsu isn’t particularly inclined to “hang out.” she continues on with her day, working and working and working, and not once considering the girl.

when mutsu was fourteen, she was looking after a ship. there were other powers that did a lot of important work, but she was always kept in the loop. she was welcome to join in the work just as she was allowed to roam free. she supposed that allowing kagura that same independence would have been the best way of getting her out of the way, but instead kagura makes her presence known.

“vice-captain,” one divisional manager begins when he calls her. “there appears to be a strange girl running lose in the loading bay. she’s been moving around crates to make a castle because she is now the apparent queen of the kaientai?”

mutsu sighs. “tell her that the highest power on this ship is the captain. after that is the vice-captain.”

“uh. sure.”

mutsu doesn’t even make an hour before she gets another call, this time from the head of the kitchens, explaining that the monster from yesterday has returned to ravage their supplies.

soon after that, the guards tell her that a little girl has been running around and asking where they store their sukonbu.

mutsu decides that the best way to manage kagura is to keep her at her side. mutsu continues on with her task, always looking back to make sure kagura is following her whenever they make any moves.

“neechan, this is boring,” kagura complains.

“work often is.”

kagura snorts. “not my work!”

admittedly, that piques mutsu’s curiosity. she knows about gintoki’s odd jobs business and has certainly requested their assistance on more than one occasion, but she’s always wondered what other kinds of work they received.

“and what is your work exactly, kagura?”

her eyes widen at the question and it occurs to mutsu she hasn’t really shown that much interest in the girl despite her own clear admiration.

“lots of things!” kagura replies. “delivering packages for terrorists, warding off fake ghosts, punching down hornet’s nests.” she waves a hand, her grin smug and excited. “you know, the usual.”

tatsuma insists mutsu just take some time off for now and spend time with kagura since she rarely meets anyone of her race. he says so freely, not quite considering that kagura is sitting at the other end of the table gnawing on another dish.

“she’s kind of...” tatsuma considers the right word. “adorable.”

mutsu looks at kagura’s sauce-smeared face and wonders if he needs his eyes checked. “adorable?”

“or something.”

kagura rubs her bloated belly and demanding someone roll her back to her room. she calls for “pachi” before pausing and remembering where she is. she stands on her own, yawning and stretching and then waving at them and saying she’s calling it a night.

mutsu watches her leave. “or something indeed.”

“how come you don’t carry an umbrella?” kagura asks, prodding mutsu with her own.

“i’ve never had one,” mutsu admits, swatting it away.

“but what about the sun?”

“i generally avoid it.”

“but what if you can’t?”

“my hat is sufficient.”

“but what about kicking people’s butts?”

mutsu cracks a small smile. “surely you know i don’t need a weaponized umbrella to win a battle?”

kagura grins in turn, albeit a little wider. “i knew you were super strong, neechan!”

while most yato are prone to using their fists and swinging around their umbrellas, those umbrellas are also weaponized and use their own special sort of bullets. mutsu doesn’t carry around an umbrella, but she does have her own firearm.

she has a collection, actually, and judging by kagura’s silence, she’s positively enamoured by it.

“come,” mutsu says, grabbing the one that shoots laser beams. they walk over to the shooting range and mutsu holds the gun before her. she takes aim, she shoots, and behind her kagura is making little noises of excitement with every blast of green that takes down a target.

after a minute, mutsu glances over her shoulder.

“would you like to try?” she offers.

“yes!”

she hands the girl the gun and kagura tries to replicate the position mutsu had been in. this gun is different than what she’s used to, shorter and probably a lot lighter too, so mutsu adjusts her stance and her arms and then tells kagura to fire.

the eruption of green light has kagura cheering. after one shot, she turns to mutsu and grins.

“i want one of these,” she declares. “i can have this, yes?”

mutsu imagines it must be frowned upon to give a weapon to a child, but then she remembers what they are and knows that kagura’s fists could do much for damage. she rests a hand on kagura’s head and agrees.

mutsu is an only child, tatsuma knows. he considers that her father, pirate that he was, may have left a handful of bastards around the galaxy, but mutsu grew up alone and that much he is certain of. that said, he thinks she handles the little yato girl with ease.

when he points this out in private, mutsu shrugs.

“i apply the same principles as when dealing with a potential client.”

“right.”

mutsu doesn’t like his tone, he understands, based on the way her lips thin.

“what?” she bites out.

“i didn’t say anything!”

“you were going to.”

tatsuma shrugs. “you’re good with her,” he says simply enough.

mutsu raises an eyebrow. “you’ve already said that.”

“did i?” tatsuma laughs because he doesn’t want to elaborate. “relax, mutsu,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder. he smiles. “there’s nothing wrong with admitting that you actually do want to--” he pauses, tapping his chin. “how did she put it? ah, yes. hang out.”

one night kagura insists on sleeping in mutsu’s room. she brings along snacks that are apparently for midnight and drops her futon on the floor with a thud. she arranges it in one sliver of space as mutsu stares at her, shocked into silence by her audacity.

“i have work to do, kagura.”

“work?” kagura scoffs. “it’s bedtime, neechan. why are you working?”

“i have a company to run.”

“but that’s boring!”

“have you ever considered your future aspirations, kagura?”

“huh?”

“what do you want to be when you grow up?” the question is odd and childish but there’s a light of wonder in kagura’s eyes. the girl bites her lip and looks shy despite all mutsu knows her to be.

“i’m going to be the best alien hunter in the universe,” kagura declares.

mutsu cracks a smile, because she knows the man that title currently belongs to.

“i’m going to travel the galaxy and i’m going to be beat that stupid baldy off his throne of the strongest!”

“baldy?”

“papi,” kagura says with a nod.

“papi?” mutsu echoes, because that did nothing to clarify.

“my dad,” kagura explains, “is an alien buster.” she grimaces, crossing her arms and seeming more inconvenienced than proud. “and for whatever reason, people consider him to be the best.”

kagura busies herself opening their midnight snack an hour and a half too early. mutsu considers her own father who expected her to inherit his ruthlessness and their family business. would she have ever met tatsuma? would she ever have come across all these gems she called her comrades? would she ever have met this strange yato girl?

“anyway, that’s one idea,” kagura says, her words garbled by the food in her mouth. “i’ve also considered taking over the yorozuya when gin-chan kicks the can.”

kagura insists on creating a delicacy she learned down on earth and so mutsu lets her go to the kitchens (she’d been banned after threatening some staff for “hiding their sukonbu stash”). kagura comes back shortly with two bowls of rice and another bowl of something else. she sets mutsu’s rice before her and then cracks an egg, letting its contents fall over the grains. she does the same for herself and then claps.

“time to eat!” kagura yells, immediately digging in.

mutsu just blinks, taking in the simple meal.

“what is this?” mutsu asks.

“egg on rice!”

“yes. literally.”

kagura nods and explains that she and gin-chan eat this all the time and it’s one of her favourite things, although she also likes ramen and barbecue and gin-chan says that she can eat sushi on her birthday.

when she notices mutsu only staring at her dinner, kagura pauses. “is--” she swallows and then bites her lip. “do you not like it?” her cheeks turn pink. “i can eat it for you, if you don’t want it--”

“no.” mutsu reaches across the table and rests a hand on kagura’s head. she doesn’t ever recall being on the receiving end on this sort of affection, but something inside of her tells her she needs to reassure this kind young girl. mutsu draws her hand back and picks up her chopsticks.

she takes her first bite, not unaware of the way kagura’s eyes follow her motions. she smiles and kagura smiles back.

“it’s delicious.”

tatsuma is in the middle of his morning coffee when mutsu makes it to his side. she’s always been shorter, but today she seems even more so. tatsuma does a double take and after a moment, he realizes that this isn’t mutsu at all. instead, kagura wears a similar woven hat and a cloak of burgundy.

he smiles and he laughs, throwing his head back and clutching his belly.

“oh man,” he chokes out. “well aren’t you precious?”

“enough of your prattle, captain,” kagura replies in a low voice that isn’t quite her own. she rips the tablet with the day’s schedule out of his hands and reads it as if it means anything to her. “ah, yes, work and stuff.”

tatsuma crosses his arms, deciding to play along. “what are the plans for today, mini-mutsu?”

kagura wears the face of annoyed vice-captain quite well. “business as usual,” she replies. “although today we shall--”

she cries out, whiny and childish, and when tatsuma looks back at her, mutsu is there, a disapproving frown replacing her usual headwear.

“ah, mutsu!” tatsuma greets. “i’d like you to meet your replacement.”

kagura giggles and tatsuma joins her.

“funny,” mutsu intones.

“i’ll be really good at it, neechan!” kagura insists. “it’s simple, yes? just clean up the mess that your curly-haired idiot boss makes. i do that all the time!”

tatsuma’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt. “oi!”

“i think she looks up to you.”

mutsu nods because this isn’t really news.

“smart kid,” tatsuma says, “choosing you.”

“oh?”

tatsuma laughs. “well there are a lot of questionable people she surrounds herself with. what if she turned out like zura? or kintoki, hm?”

mutsu just shakes her head and ignores him.

kagura had fallen asleep in her chair in the meeting room almost an hour ago. mutsu had told her to go back to her room and rest, but kagura had insisted that she would wait for neechan to finish her work before leaving. “you work too much,” kagura said after a yawn. “i need to make sure you sleep as well, yes?” and so she waited, curled up in a chair with her eyes fluttering shut every few minutes until she finally dozed off entirely.

while tatsuma hadn’t confirmed that mutsu was a yato until recently, he definitely had his suspicions after a decade of observing her aversion to sunlight and powerful punches. he never pressed the issue though, assuming that it was just something mutsu didn’t want to talk about.

he knows the same stuff about the yato that everyone else does. they are one of the most dangerous races in the entire universe, they’re weakened by the sun and are often found carrying around umbrellas, and that their stomachs are essentially black holes.

and now that her heritage has been confirmed, it’s no surprise to him to see mutsu taking to this girl so easily.

there’s so few of them left that finding one must feel like reuniting with long lost family.

“are you going to miss your mini-me?”

mutsu rolls her eyes, annoyed with the nickname he’d given kagura after the dress up fiasco. “i have no time for sentiment,” she mutters.

“hm? well i will sure miss her.”

“you wanted to send her home the moment you realized she’d stowed away on this ship.” mutsu narrows her eyes at him. “or perhaps you just wanted to go down to edo to visit your usual haunts?”

tatsuma laughs, leaning back into his chair. “now, now, mutsu. i’m a responsible adult now, remember?”

“right.”

despite how much he did want to bring kagura back, certain that kintoki was probably freaking out over his missing daughter, tatsuma is glad mutsu steered him away from the idea. perhaps she wanted to spend time with kagura, perhaps she just wanted to stay on schedule -- it didn’t matter. tatsuma smiles, glad with the end result: mutsu got to spend time with this little yato girl.

“she really likes you, mutsu.”

“yes.”

“and,” tatsuma continues, “i think you really like her too.”

mutsu busies herself with scanning the inventory log she’s been reading between adjusting kagura’s head so her neck wouldn’t hurt when she woke up and wiping away the girl’s drool. he thinks he sees a ghost of a smile when mutsu replies that she thinks he might be right.

the next day, mutsu joins him on the bridge as they set course for earth.

“what if,” mutsu begins slowly, “we just...don’t bring her back.”

tatsuma rubs the back of his neck. “i’m pretty sure that’s considered kidnapping.”

“she came with us on her own volition.”

“i’m pretty sure that’s still considered kidnapping.”

mutsu’s brow furrows and tatsuma recognizes that she’s displeased with his answer. “under whose jurisdiction?” mutsu continues. “the laws of edo don’t apply to this ship, much less this galaxy.”

tatsuma shakes his head. “why don’t you just admit that you enjoy having her around,” he suggests. “that you actually do want to hang out.”

”hmph.”

on their last day together, kagura tells mutsu she wants to show her the castle she’d made. mutsu dreads every step she takes closer and closer to a haphazard pile of boxes in the corner of loading bay, but when kagura announces that they’ve arrived, mutsu sighs.

"welcome to my humble abode!” kagura says. “please be sure to bow down to the queen of the kaientai.”

“the queen of the kaientai?”

kagura grins. “me.”

mutsu sighs. “you are not the queen of the kaientai, kagura.”

“how dare you!”

“and didn’t i tell you not to move the boxes around? we have a strict inventory--”

“the manager said i could use these boxes!” she promises. “he said they just had the 500 million yen bags in them, but that neechan said they were worthless so i should be allowed to play with them!”

mutsu purses her lips. “fair enough.”

later that night, mutsu decides to take a break and after a stop at the kitchens, she walks over to kagura’s room. she walks by tatusma along the way, catching his knowing grin and ignoring it. when she makes it in front of kagura’s door, she knocks softly.

there’s no response and for a moment, mutsu thinks the girl might already be asleep. but the door soon opens, kagura dressed in her bunny print pyjamas and a piece of sukonbu hanging from her lips.

“neechan?” kagura blinks. “don’t you have to do work?”

mutsu smiles. “i’m taking a break. may i come in?”

kagura steps to the side and mutsu steps inside. she puts down the items she’d taken from the kitchen and her grin widens when she hears kagura’s excited cheer.

“rice!” she yells as she claps. “and...eggs?” she blinks before understanding.

“i enjoyed your cooking,” mutsu tells her. she picks up one of the eggs and cracks it on the edge of the bowl. “i thought i would try making it for you this time.”

they eat, chatting about all the different planets mutsu has been to and all the places kagura will visit when she gets older. kagura tells her about the jobs she’s been on lately while mutsu shares tales of the kinds of business people they’ve come across. they chat about everything, both laying on kagura’s bed, rubbing their stuffed stomachs and staring at the ceiling as they talk.

kagura falls asleep first, her head lolling to the side and resting against mutsu’s shoulder. mutsu closes her eyes too, content.

as their ship pulls into the dock, mutsu spots the yorozuya waiting. the dog runs around excitedly while the glasses boy tries to get a hold of him. gintoki leans against a crate, trying to appear at ease, but mutsu can see his tension from afar. it’s only been ten days, but mutsu assumes they must have missed kagura very much.

considering that kagura will now be leaving their ship, mutsu realizes she’ll be missing her as well.

“thanks for the gun,” kagura says. “i’ll keep it forever, neechan. i can’t wait to show it to pachi!”

“don’t shoot him.”

kagura opens her mouth, ready to fight her on that request, but then she sighs. “fine, fine, i’ll save that for sadist then, yes?”

mutsu doesn’t know what she’s talking about so she says that should be fine.

mutsu walks with kagura down to the loading bay doors where she might exit and return to the family she built on earth. what a special girl, mutsu thinks, to be able to find kin on earth and in space. she’ll miss kagura, she can admit to herself. she’ll miss the companionship, the mischievous laughter, the way she looked at her like she was her hero.

when they exit the ship, the dog barks and begins running towards them.

“thanks, neechan,” kagura says, a wide grin stretching across her face. “i had a lot of fun with you.”

mutsu nods and admits, “i as well. i--” she wants to laugh at the words coming to her mind. “i enjoyed...hanging out.”

kagura giggle and then wraps her arms around mutsu’s middle. mutsu isn’t used to physical affection, the extent of it only ever really coming from tatsuma if anyone. her arms hang awkwardly at her sides while kagura just holds her tighter, crushing her in her grip.

“what are you doing?” mutsu asks.

“i’m hugging you,” kagura replies.

“why are you hugging me?”

kagura lifts her head, her brow furrowed as she looks at mutsu as if she’s crazy.

“because i’ll miss you.” kagura eventually pulls away and steps backwards, ready to return to her family here on earth. she raises a hand and waves. “i’ll see you next time! we’ll hang out again, yes?”

“yes,” mutsu promises, “we will.”

fin

#fic #kagura #mutsu

77 notes · View notes

biancamlopez-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Relationships.

Welcome to my first blog post!

The relationships we forge with others and the strength of them define who we are. I am passionate about every important relationship I create with others, and am thankful for everyone I have crossed paths with. The following are the relationships I have in my life, in no particular order of importance.

God

My relationship with God and my faith have wavered in the past because of some dark places that I have been in, which will be explored here briefly and in great length in another post. If you know me or follow me through social platforms, you know that I am currently prepping for a bikini competition this July and I’ve turned to the Lord for strength, will, and perseverance. His will be done in every part of my life and I trust in Him completely for the plan he has for my life.

My Father

My father is a former Marine, former police officer, and former immigration officer, so he’s always been a man of strong character and great physical strength. My dad was sooooo hard on me growing up. I used to hate how my friends had certain privileges that I didn’t during my childhood and adolescence, such as staying out late, going certain places, or doing certain things. As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to appreciate the values he’s instilled in me. He taught me how to work hard, give my all in everything I pursue, and now that I’ve become independent, he is now teaching me the ropes about how to be a successful woman. My dad is the ultimate example of the type of man I want to be with someday. He’s provided, protected, and professed his love and commitment to my mother, my brother and myself and I admire him to no end.

My Mother

My mother and I could not be more opposite from each other. We carry ourselves differently, have staunch political differences, and can sometimes drive each other a little crazy! But one thing I know for sure is that she is always there to lend a helping hand with any pickle I may find myself in. She helped me tremendously with my bout of depression about a year and a half ago and I would be lost without her, maybe not even alive. My mom has overcome some personal obstacles of hers with such perseverance and I’m immensely proud to call her mom.

My Brother

My brother David and I are six and a half years apart. He was in fifth grade when I was senior in high school. It’s really difficult to form a close bond with someone that far apart in age with when you’re both young, especially being of the opposite sex, but I am happy that as he’s gotten a little older, we’ve gotten closer. I am excited to see what kind of man he will become and am proud of the young man he already is. He’ll be moving to San Marcos in the fall for school and I’m stoked to see him more often!

My Best Friends

I have three best friends: Vicki, Alexis, and Natasha, all of which, not coincidentally, were my college roommates at some point. I lived with Vicki from January 2011-August 2013, Alexis from August 2013-August 2014, and Natasha from January 2016-present. Each of them are my best friends for different reasons. Vicki was my first roommate I ever had. She and I were randomly paired up at the Dobie Center, a private dorm across the street from the UT Austin campus. She was there for me through my formative times while I was adjusting to moving away from my hometown and has always been a great shoulder to cry on, a friend to get shitfaced at frat parties with, and vent to. I know this also may sound strange, but being from Laredo, a city with a 90% Latinx population, she taught me a lot about being friends with people outside my race as she is White. Moving to Austin in 2011 was a definite culture shock and having a friend with a difference perspective through the lens race helped me adjust. She’s also woke AF; she’s so dope.

Alexis and I met each other when she subleased from an ex-boyfriend that I was planning on living with (thank GOD that didn’t happen). Alexis was also the first friend I told that I had gotten kicked out of school for my grades (something I will share more about in another post). Alexis is the person I told some of my deepest, darkest secrets to and she has done the same with me. We’ve never judged each other, have always helped each other, and been there for each other. She’s an AMAZING listener. I had the pleasure of taking an elective class with her called Capital Punishment in America my last semester at UT and it was awesome to see her in a thought provoking setting and learning more about her perspective on complicated issues. She’s living in Dallas, TX now climbing up the corporate ladder and I’m proud to call her my best friend. She has one of the purest hearts I’ve ever seen and that’s hard to find nowadays.

Natasha and I were roommates at good ol’ Town Lake Student Apartments when I subleased from her former roommate that had just graduated. She is the little, big sister in my life. She’s twenty-one and I’m twenty-six and I swear, I look up to that girl. She graduated college at twenty (whaaaaaat), is financially, spiritually, and emotionally independent, and is the most responsible person I know. She keeps me in check. She kicks my ass when I need it. She pushes me to be the best person I can be in every facet of life. Besides my father, I don’t think I admire anyone more than I admire her. We pick each other’s brains all the time and she’s not your typical barely-legal girl. She’s more successful than some of the bums I’ve dated! Ha!

You go to college to meet your bridesmaids y’all, not your husband.

Jose Angel

I have a male best friend too! His name is Angel and we’ve known each other since we were five years old. How many people can say they’ve been friends for almost twenty-two years? We grew up together and weren’t super close the whole time I’ve known him, but in the last five years we’ve grown extremely close and he sets me straight as well. He helps me with boy probs, financial advice, and just life in general. He lives in Houston, TX and I really wish I could see him more often than I do. Every time I visit him in Houston he’s always down to do whatever I want to do. I am very lucky to have a good hearted, male friend that is near and dear to my heart.

My Not-As Close Friends

I try to live my life with the purest intentions in my heart, and I feel that I have lots of close and not-so-close friends, acquaintances and supporters from afar because of this. Just know, especially with this bikini prep that I’m on, I appreciate all of your support and kindness. Know that I am always there to lend an ear, a helping hand, ANYTHING (within reason). I love meeting and connecting with new people so don't hesitate to reach out. Let’s be fraaaans :)

My Exes

I do not communicate with two of my four ex boyfriends. The ones I do talk to or have talked to are my high school boyfriend, who I haven’t heard from in years and is just a Facebook friend, and one other. I’ve been through some pretty traumatic shit in past relationships, some a little too deep to share here, but I wish them all the best and all the success in the world in every aspect of their lives. Despite the turmoil I’ve been through, I’ve loved, lost, and will continue to love deeply. I've been lied to, cheated on, broken up with the day before my birthday, been left the day before Valentine’s Day, been emotionally and mentally abused, but I honestly believe in love, and the man who I end up with will be an incredibly lucky man. I’ve loved the wrong men fiercely, imagine how great I can be and how I can love the right man?

My Current Relationship Status

I am seeing someone, but it is in the very early stages of getting to know each other; we’ve recently reconnected. I met him a few years ago when I was definitely not ready to pursue a relationship with anyone else besides my most recent ex, who I was broken up with at the time. We shall see! Like I said, I trust the plan God has for my life.

MYSELF

Besides my relationship with God, this is the most important relationship I have, the one I have with myself. I’m learning to love myself more and more everyday. I have a newfound or resurfaced confidence again since I started my fat loss journey. I learn something new about myself almost every day! I still don’t have it all figured out, but that’s the beauty of life. Always moving forward.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and I am honest to every person I come to meet. What you see is what you get. I don’t play games, I don’t have malicious intentions. I am an open book. Get to know me :)

1 note · View note

chasingarmie · 7 years ago

Photo

Hello. 2017 was my “re-boot” year as I like to call it. I’ve grown a lot privately and quietly. I had scenes worthy of a three-minute standing ovation, but they are mostly mundane ones deserving a personal recognition of none other than myself. I see life through a more beautiful lens now. Change has transpired all throughout the year, but I’ve never been so glad that it did. This is a post on how 2017 changed me in ways that left me equally awed and grateful; and to 2018 me, hey, we’re gonna make this story legendary.

2017

I told myself that I want to be someone “normal” this year.

I hope you won’t crucify me for this but I felt like I was on a roll during my junior- senior high school years. Although I don’t usually like to talk about it but in all humility, I joined a lot of contests during those times, won a whole bunch of them and also lost a whole lot more. Some people don’t know about this because I like to keep my achievements in private and share the victory with my own little circle. I bagged awards in various fields, it came to a point where I won recognition in the Regional, National, and even International sphere. I earned seats in major organizations and had a chance to be with the big-shots in the academic arena of the Philippines.

Such a bragger huh, but trust me, that would be the last of my intention. It was necessary for making people understand how I was at a peak of my high-school years.

You might think that I’m so lucky, but am I really?

SILVER LININGS

I pride myself on being one who doesn’t fear failure. If I remember it correctly it was my “Introduce yourself description” on my first day of class in Grade 11. I told everyone that success is just failure turned inside out, the silver linings in the clouds of doubt. But, I lied.

It’s exhausting to fail over and over again. Of course, it’s vindicating to finally achieve the things that you’ve been working for, but the process it takes you to get there is “consuming” at the very least. I had to cry a lot of times and I spent tears on people who repeatedly threw stones at me claiming that they only want to leave me unscathed and at my very best. It became really stressful for me, and I felt l was alive with rage towards so many people. That was never what I wanted.

It was during those times that I decided to just pause and let go. I wanted to seek genuine happiness and I know deep down in my bones that I had to sacrifice a lot of things, and it includes me being a student on top of multiple awarding ceremonies at once. I wanted to become a student of life.

HUMSS

Paulo Coelho said that once you want something the whole universe conspires to help you reach it.

Interestingly enough on the road to my mission of redefining my self, I met people who altered my perception on what it is to become “normal”.

You see, at first glance my classmates at HUMSS, seem normal, the low-keys, the ones you don’t see dancing at parties with that popular kids type of swagger vibes. They won’t be the ones leading parades and have loud conversations to make people pay attention. They’re the HUMSS for pete’s sake.

Normal to them is laying on our self-bought banig during lunch and class breaks. Normal to them is taking portraits on a rice-field or on mountains or on grassy places or on pebbled beaches. Normal to them is swearing. Normal to them is laughing at dirty green jokes that only us would dare to laugh at. Normal to them is that, just being themselves. And I loved that.

There are people in our classroom who are nothing short of amazing even when they’re “normal”. (1) I have a friend who’s exceptionally good at drawing, she’s well known for that, but what most people don’t know is that she’s also darn good with words, she reads a LOT of books, she threads them into this intricate pattern of hearty prose and texts. She ones wrote me a letter, a passage she got from a Greek or was that Roman Mythology? She said that she knew that I would love a good read, and boy was she right. It made me think of all the words inside her heart and how beautiful they might be. (2) At the first day of class in Grade 11, I met this girl who showed me how it was like to be strong and soft at the same time. This one fancies wearing dark lipstick and sings to songs that are rapped and has amazing and funny beats. One time, she showed me her collection of poetry, ones that she wrote by herself, it was typed on her old phone. Do you sometimes wonder why people are so fiercely strong? Maybe it was because they were once soft and some nights they were broken and they needed to be strong because if they won’t then who else will. I think that girl is soft both on the inside and on the outside, and stronger. Always stronger. (3) This boy likes Philosophy. He talks about things that almost no one talks about. What you don’t know about this boy tho is that he’s darker than most of us. He thrives on wisdom and knowledge. He is erudite, and he’s constantly hungry for more, more of everything. This is what makes him dangerous. I hope along the way he doesn’t lose himself. I hope he seeks and finds his heart’s truest deepest desires. I hope he lives well, honestly truly completely well.

(4) A girl cried during our Christmas Party. Ironically, she smiled all throughout the day and only cried at the end. I wonder the strength it must have took to hold everything in. Maybe it was the vodka? But I know better, I know that this kid travels almost more than 10 kms. to school every day, and I also know that she helps her family by selling all kinds of snacks, and I also know that she has been through a lot and still, smiles. Maybe the vodka was a good idea. Maybe, sometimes we can just pour everything out, because oh gad who knows what might happen if we don’t. I want her to know that I’m here. In case she wants to pour one more shot of tears. Always here. (5) I waved to this boy on the first day of class and he just stared at me. I hated him that day. I gave this boy a huge sketchpad last year because he is really really really good at drawing. I liked him that day. Then, there are days when he comes to school late. What could he possibly be busy with? Then I remember that he was a Yolanda survivor, and whatever it is that takes up his time I know he’ll survive, I haven’t told him this but I believe in his dreams. I hated him ‘once’ but I liked him all the days after and possible all the years more. (6) I hope this girl breaks her heart. Cruel? Selfish? Yes. How else do we know that we deserve someone better? We deserve the love we need to give to ourselves. I hope she comes out stronger.

(7) Singing has been her trademark, and I understand that, but I don’t know sometimes I admire her inner voice more. The way she says she’s evil but she has shown me nothing but kindness. People love her you know. People really love her. Some because of her singing, but most is because of her soul. Flaws? I’m pretty sure she has them, I’m certain she has a lot. But, that’s what being normal is right? She is kind, she is loved, and her voice both sung and shown has taught me how singing touches people in more ways than they can imagine. (8) At last, I got to write about this one. I know she’s hurting. Gad she is. There are nights when she confides to me about the pain, about how it’s all wrong, about how she deserves to be treated way way better. And I know that what she’s only trying to say is that she wants to be fought for, that it’s time to be fckng fought for!!!!!!! I want her to know that she’s right, but I also want her to know that she’s wrong. That it’s okay to be fought for and to fight at the same time. I want her to know that I spoke to someone who broke my heart about everything and only then did the waters became clear. FIGHT. You have nothing to lose now, or maybe there is, but FIGHT because you will lose everything if you don’t. We’re strong independent women right. Let’s let them know. If you’re wondering, yes this is the sign.

(9) (10) There are two people who have marveled me during the years. One lost her father at the day of our recognition, and one speaks about hers with endless admiration. These two girls taught me what it’s like to love. To love both in pain and in joy, to love when a person’s here and specially when he’s not. To love. To be a child. To love even more. (11) I jogged with this boy to a cemetery once. We’ve grown closer now. And I never told him this but, sometimes I picture him as a soldier. (12) The first thing you notice about him, is his size. I may be insensitive here but remind me why again? I am extremely proud of my guy here. Lately he’s been advocating against all sorts of injustices from body shaming to calling wattpad a book. Size is the first thing you notice, but just seconds after you notice how he forgets to bring his WiFi with him, and how he looks at you in the eyes when he speaks, and how his laugh resonates in your heart. I said he’s a big guy but maybe the society needs big guys like him to speak for those who feel so little. Maybe it’s a mission, or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, but whatever it is, I know that he’s a man with a huge heart, one brave and never cowardly. (13) The last one and the first one all at the same time. I hope he realizes how he makes me happy when he says that I’m the reason why he’s addicted to books. I like the way you turn red on the cheeks when we talk or when you laugh. I hope you laugh more.

Old Friends

I’ve drifted away with people who I once thought I could never finish high school without. There’s Pig and Jascha on top of the list. Sometimes I wonder if I’m such a bad friend, maybe I am. May they remember all our memories nonetheless. May they forgive me for forgetting their birthdays and lying about it. Trust me, I am aware of my faults and I am ashamed of it.

They say burning bridges is okay. But what do you do when the burning was an accident? When you never planned for it to happen, when it just..did. Maybe all I can do is say sorry, but also say thank you.

I know these people are happier now, they have a new set of friends and smile a whole lot wider. But I have a confession.

Making me ashamed of how I was finally doing well with HUMSS somehow made me all the more a renegade. I never blamed them when they never bothered to say hi or hello, I never made them uncomfortable with the fact that they have other friends, I was okay with them being all those things. That’s why I don’t understand why it’s not okay for me to be the same.

At 2017, I fought for someone, hard. I never regretted that night.

Burning bridges can be accidents or not, but one can find solace in the fact that it leads you to new places, one that you never knew you needed.

Debate

I felt less pressured in debates this year, maybe because it’s Brit Parliamentary season.

Family

Truth be told, WiFi has devoured most of our family time. So much, that sometimes I wish we don’t have it at all. I am not the perfect child, nor the perfect sister. I am that bastard who rolls her eyes and I wrestle with my sisters . But, every night all I want is to cuddle with Yanitz and Chim, and hug them when they’re asleep and tell them how much I love them while I still can. Every night my prayers are composed of me praying to God to grant us safety and good health and a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious long life together here on Earth. The very same prayer I had when I was 8 years old. I know that I am not the best ate or child, but I like to believe that 2017 made me a better one.

God

This year I learned to surrender.

I used to take so long when I pray and 80% of it was me asking for things I deem to be necessary, but 2017 made me understand that I have been doing it the wrong way. Now when I pray, I say a quiet scream of praise which takes up 40% of my time then I apologize for all my sins be it on the mind, heart, or deeds and that’s also about 40% and then I say “God I surrender everything to You, everything. Help me to become Your servant. Protect my family always. I love You.” 20% of my time praying is that. It is short but it is powerful.

I realized when you trust God to direct your life, you give Him the power and you give yourself the peace in knowing that you are always at His mercy and His wings. That God is with you all the days of your life, because you surrendered and the Heavens is guiding you. It’s difficult to explain but I gave God the sail to my ship and everything from there has been a purposeful ride.

Short Hair

This was the year I decided to cut my hair short like really really short. It was an impulsive decision, but one that was wanted for a long time, an act of defiance against those who said that I can’t. I enjoyed all the memories I had with this hair even though I looked like Dora and on some days Boots. Still, it was an amazing journey with this one. Power.

Lessons and Self

1. Love is everywhere. Love was there when you smiled at the old woman who wore dirty baggy clothes and who was picking up plastic bottles on theway home. Love was when she smiled back. Love was here when you treated your sister to Greenwhich. Love was wanting to sleep beside them every night. Love was when you forgave yourself for being bad at debates. Love was when you fought for Ed. Love is when you pray. Love was in the flowers that day you decided that it was time to let go. Love was in the ocean when you needed to breathe and when you felt like it’s so much easier to just drown. Love is your Papa, and your Mama, and Yanitz, and Chim. Love is the solace, love is the truth, love is the strength, love is faith. Love is everything, and love is everywhere, you just have to want to see it.

2. You are shitty person. But, that’s okay. You are trying.

3. Attitude really matters. I met a lot of people who are so engulfed with ego and pride that stemmed from their achievements, majority can’t stand them despite their honors. What good is it when you don’t touch people’s lives anyway?

4. Laugh. Satisfaction is hard to find. It’s different to stand under the rain and to dance under it. I’ve learned to do both. I dance in front of mirrors now too.

5. You don’t need a boy. Relationships bring heartache and pain. Some people say they love you but then they don’t. I know it’s nice to feel giddy before you fall asleep but if it’s at the cost of you waking up in the morning and tiring yourself to wait for their replies who by the way wouldn’t be there not until it’s convenient for them, then maybe it’s time to really really really wake up.

6. You’re still a hopeless romantic despite everything you say.

7. YOU ARE NOT AFRAID OF DYING. At 2017, I thought I had cancer. I have this bump in my head that existed for no apparent reason. It was also during this time that I visited a lot of wakes. Somehow there was a button inside of me that just kinda flipped. It was a eureka moment when I realized that I am not afraid, not of dying. It was that kind of realization that takes you on a nostalgia ride and when you look back you realize that you have loved with your heart bruised and with it whole and that you are finally happy, that you have always been happy despite not being so. It was contentment. It’s a scary thought to admit that I am not afraid of dying. Ironic.

8. Skin is just that, skin. I know it’s hard to feel confident when you have a lot of pimples and acne scars, and when you have a bloated belly, and bushy brows. But people don’t remember that about you when you die. Most of the times, people don’t even notice it. We are own critics and a pimple is not fckng worth it.

9. It’s perfectly fine to change decisions. You can go from Point A to Point B. Mistakes will be made along the way, but we are humans that’s what we do best.

10. Forgive.

11. Fight for the things and the people you love. No matter how hard it is. Sometimes, you just have to trust your heart. Everybody can say that you didn’t work out, but nobody can ever tell you that you didn’t try.

12. You turned 18 this year. Fifteen years from now maybe your wedding day. Right now, you have every chance, every opportunity, every day. To turn your aspirations into reality. To love every single person around you. To trust and to forgive when it’s so hard to do so. To be grateful. To give back. To laugh. To dance in front of mirrors. To bathe in the rain. To pray. To work on yourself. To learn. Things will change, they always do, you will too. Make it legendary.

Last night, I told someone how much I hated 2017 how all of those things above were just petty excuses for how much I loathed last year. But, I was wrong.

I wanted to become someone normal, and I think I succeeded. What is normal anyway? Normal is being yourself, normal is failing, normal is loving. I understand now that there is more to life than meets the eye.

My life is normal but it’s not monochromatic, it’s not just shades of black and white. It’s magical and vibrant. Neutrality will always be there but it doesn’t mean that you have to be color blind.

2017 was the year I loved so hard. 2017 was the year I lost people. 2017 was the year I decided that I liked wearing skirts. 2017 made me fat. 2017 was the year I turned an adult. 2017 was the year I cried so much because of Rea Nitz. 2017 was when I loved Yanitz more. 2017 was me being a whole new person, different from who I was once upon a time. I like to believe that I’m stronger now, I’m ready to get back in the game, but now with the added wisdom that the best things in life come to those who find love and beauty in the smallest things. I grew as a person, and I will continue to be a student of life. Wow if that ain’t damn good realizations I don’t know what are.

I’m pretty much sure that 2017 prepared me for a spectacular year and for all the years ahead.

I know I said I hated 2017, but I have never been so glad to finally accept that I was wrong.

#2017

5 notes · View notes

tiredbiplantlady · 7 years ago

Text

The signs as people who have had an impact on me:

Aries: Takes no shit (except mine, and even then Calls Me Out). Speaks her truth with reckless abandon in the best way. Doesn’t hesitate to burn down toxic shit. Fiercely protective and will throw down for me any time. Wants to be loved and appreciated for exactly who she is. Desires strong commitment, passion, and deep connection. Small-talk is bullshit. Has an adventurous streak and wants to know all the things she can.

Taurus: Good friend. Wants to be truly loved so badly. Can be possessive and jealous. Moves and changes jobs a lot looking for stability she craves so hard. Hard to break patterns and always does the same things over and over. Always there when you need someone to listen and just tell you you’re great and loved. Lots of love to give. Enjoys the comfort of feeling at home - food, warmth, pets, good shows. Works hard to be responsible, but has intense phases of impulsivity.

Gemini: Endlessly curious, knows a lot about many things, Jack-of-all-trades, excitable. The most communicative - so much information - great long conversations. Affectionate. Endlessly caring. Social and great at organizing. Sweet, but the other, hidden Gemini side very vulnerable. Always smiling and laughing until he’s not. Emotional, deep feeling, but doesn’t express it to just anyone.

Cancer: So hard to read with a hella thick wall built up. Waits for you to reach out first, but even if he does, gives one word answers to your reply. Extremely affectionate and craves physical closeness, even if the psychological vulnerability doesn’t match it. Potentially manipulative, but mostly just guarded and private. Inconsistent/moody. Loves drinking and is often alone (even in a crowd), but doesn’t want to be.

Leo: I’ve never known a Leo close enough!

Virgo: I’m a Virgo, and I don’t know any others well, but I’m critical as shit, over-analytical to a harsh fault. Ruminate like crazy. Prone to hypochondria, making assumptions about what others think and feel, and am good at lying to myself to Make Things Fit the way I want them to. I am very shy, but when I think I know something better than you, you know I’m gonna go off. I also put out my hidden feelings in bursts. I criticize myself endlessly and invalidate myself like crazy, looking for it everywhere in other people. Nothing is good enough for me because I’m not good enough for myself yet. Set myself up for disappointment with insane expectations. I try to seem indifferent when really I have Many Feelings underneath.

Libra: Emotionally reactive. Holds HELLA grudges. Loves expensive shit, looking fancy, portraying an image of being cultured and lots of class, talking about art, philosophy, psychology etc. But is actually sexually aggressive/inappropriately flirtatious, lewd, and likes to intimidate and violate boundaries. Then accuse others of it. Hella unhealthy defense mechanisms (projection mostly). Intelligent, but easily stressed and can’t stand conflict and uncertainty. Tries to always present you with both views if you come to him with a problem (but can’t do it for himself). Deep down wants to be respected, validated, and loved, but is overdramatic and cold to most people.

Scorpio: Sarcastic, witty, highly intelligent. Loves having all the information and intellectually stimulating, challenging discussions. Loves learning and highly skilled with language. Wants travel and experience. Appreciates the finer things, but also comfy PJs and Taco Bell. Charming, great public speaker. Political awareness and empathetic concern, but also very logical. Distanced from emotions, but deep experiences behind the water-sign wall. Periods of reserved affect and periods of charismatic, high energy. The definition of an extroverted introvert. Absurdist humor, some dark humor. Appreciates small details. Always volunteers to help and be there to listen for you, checks in.

Sagittarius: Honest in a matter-of-fact way. Curious and very understanding/accepting. Amazing conversationalist, loves debating and good at it. Very social. Kinda selfish...or a lot selfish, or rather self-absorbed. Puts on a customer service persona when confronted with people’s feelings and becomes super matter-of-fact. Emotion-phobic, commitment-phobic, but plays pretend at it and then gets confused when people care. Fearless when it comes to new opportunities to start over. Sarcastic and teasing, blunt with occasional tact. Optimistic and unattached.

Capricorn: Always tryna rescue everybody. Overextends himself and gets passive aggressive when ain’t nobody even asked to be saved. Operates on duty and honor, whatever that means in his own mind. Tries to ensure the image the world sees personally and of the family is idealistic, but is actually so far from it underneath. Reliable and helpful, but moody. Good in emergencies. Traditional and can be overbearing without even realizing it, sorta a God complex. Shows love through favors and material goods. Wants and demands respect. Ambitious and tries to be humble about being Extra AF. Deep feeling under the surface.

Aquarius: Always watching and not acting. Wants to know everything he can and absorbs information. Wicked smart when he actually gives a shit, but doesn’t give a shit about most people or things. Apathetic or in deep. Lovingly mean, sarcastic. Has his Favorite People he will call out and let his guard down around. Temperamental as FUCK. Sensitive but will NEVER let most people know it. Hilarious, quick wit. Has the best conversation because he fearlessly asks any question, no matter how random or invasive. Got that sharp tongue and can bring somebody down with words in an instant if he wanted, but cares too much to do it for real. Independent soul, deep thinker. Can’t stand schedule changes or broken promises. Puts up with my bullshit.

Pisces: Class-clown goofy and thrives on attention. Charismatic and friendly. Super musically gifted, successful, but self-sabotages SO HARD. Alcoholic and overly-sentimental. Fearful of failure, loss, would rather feel numb than actually feel good or bad (hope is terrifying) and would rather inconsistently over-invest and pull away than make meaningful connection. Chaotic, unstable life. Romanticizes the world, mystical ideas, and gets Deep late at night when alone. Generous as fuck and enthusiastic, excitable, impulsive. Family is super important. Craves comfort and safety and calm in others.

#zodiac #meandmine

2 notes · View notes

distant-rose-archive-blog · 7 years ago

Text

No Leg to Stand On (2/2)

Note: Oh my god, this took FOREVER to write. So much is packed into this aftermath focused part two. I wasn’t expecting everyone to be so upset about Beth not telling the truth, but here we are. Anyway, please note that this takes place four years in the future. Beth is now 20, Henry is 39, Harrison is 24, Wes is 22 , Neddy is 15 and Lucy is 14. Scary right? Anyway, there is A LOT of emotions in this. A LOT. Please do not kill me. Thanks @welllpthisishappening for being the coolest person alive and feeding me fluff as I wrote this. Summary: At sixteen, Beth Jones is Killian’s pride and joy. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, clever, witty and possibly the most talented swordsman of her generation. She might also be pregnant Rating: T Word Count: 9,400+

Four years later...

Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites amongst their children. Killian Jones would vehemently deny he had a favorite out of his kids, but if he had to pick one, he would admit, privately and only to himself, that it would be his daughter. Killian loved his sons and he would fight anyone to said otherwise, but he and his daughter Beth had always had a close and special relationship. Daughters were a different sort of breed than sons were and his connection with Beth seemed to go deeper than the ones he had with Henry, Harrison, Wes and Neddy. Since the moment she had opened her eyes, Killian had felt nothing but an intense love and a fierce need to protect his daughter; to cradle her in his arms and never let her go.

There no denying that Beth had always been a “Daddy’s Girl.” When she was a child, she rarely left his side, often tugging on his pant leg and clutching his hook tightly - she always made a point to hold onto his hook and had done so since she was a toddler. She would snuggle into his side and listen with full attention as he regaled her with stories of his pirate days, often interrupting him with a question or a comment, but nonetheless always eager. For the first five years of her life, she walked around with a foam play sword and preened whenever they would call her the “Pirate Queen.” And that’s what she was to Killian, a little queen. His little queen.

Naturally, she became more aloof and independent in her teenaged years, but they maintained a close relationship. Until she turned nineteen and went off to have adventures of her own, Killian and his daughter would purposefully wake up just before dawn and would work on her swordplay in the backyard. She had a tenacity and talent with swords that none of her brothers had shown and Killian loved nothing more than those moments where they would spar and talk about everything and anything. It seemed like there was nothing they could talk about. There were no secrets between father and daughter.

Or so Killian thought.

His entire opinion on his relationship with Beth changed one night when he answered a call from the Rabbit Hole to intervene on drunk and disorderly conduct being committed by one Benjamin “Benny” Booth. None of this seemed out of the ordinary. Booth was an acknowledged alcoholic and known to be belligerent when he was too gone in his cups.

Killian did not like handling calls for drunk and disorderly conduct. They were often messy affairs that involved him hauling someone away in the back of his car where they would proceed to throw up over his leather upholstery. With the recent additions of his eldest son Harrison and his brother-in-law Neal to the law enforcement team, Killian normally left the night business, especially the drunks, to the boys. Harrison and Neal were both tall, healthy and able-bodied young men who were more than capable of handling violent and inebriated shenanigans.

However, that particular night Harrison had on a date with his longtime girlfriend Nasira and Neal had been sick when he and his wife received a call from the local bar and were asked to intervene. Emma was just as fond of those type of calls as Killian was, which led to them drawing straws on who would be the one to answer. Naturally Killian lost. He grumbled a bit in his defeat, but gave his wife an affectionate kiss before donning his leather coat and answering the call.

It was a call he wasn’t likely to forget.

“Deputy Jones,” Booth had acknowledged him with an exaggerated nod and a smirk as Killian had approached him. “An alcoholic after my own heart. Normally I’m a whiskey man but for you, I can stomach some rum.”

“No need to switch on my account,” Killian replied smoothly. “Actually, I would prefer it if you would consider turning in for the night. It’s getting late. I’m sure Marco and August are worried.”

“Are you trying to kick me out of here, Deputy?” Booth asked. “Because I’m not leaving this seat. This is my seat, you see. This is where I live.”

Booth’s eyes were glossy and he was wobbling a bit in his aforementioned seat. His speech was also a bit slurred and Killian would bet a pretty penny that he smelled like a distillery. Killian subtly placed his hand on his hip, not too far away from his cuffs. He didn’t want to hull the man out and he would give him every chance to go in peace, but Killian had a feeling Booth wasn’t going to out quietly.

“That’s quite evident,” Killian replied, tired and trying his best to be patient. “But it’s getting late. Nick is looking to close down soon, mate. He would appreciate it if you went home.”

“No. I’m not leaving! You want me to leave, you’re going to have to fight me!” Booth snapped back belligerently.

He banged his glass down hard on the table, causing the patrons around him to jump and eye him warily. Killian sighed. This was actually what he had wanted to avoid.

“Look, Benny, I don’t want to fight you. I don’t even want to cuff you. I would prefer it if we handled this like civilized men and we parted company without me hauling you down to the station for booking. I would much rather you go home to your family so I can go home to mine,” Killian replied, giving to keep his voice as gentle as he could.

“You’re not a fighter, huh, Deputy? You’re more of a fucker than a fighter,” Booth slurred, swaying in his seat like an angry cobra and glaring at Killian. “Like your daughter, huh? You would rather fuck than fight.”

Drunk cursing never really bothered Killian. He had heard more than his fair share of colorful insults over the centuries. Booth’s ravings were far from creative. However, the second Booth mentioned Beth, a spike of anger ran down his spine.

“Let’s leave my daughter out of this business, shall we?” Killian asked coldly.

“I fucked her, you know,” Booth smirked, leaning back in his seat before turning to the people around him. “I fucked his daughter. I fucked Beth Jones. Everyone thought she was an untouchable but I had her! I screwed the brains out of Storybrooke’s perfect little princess! And let me tell you, the things she could do with her legs? The girl belongs in porno. She was surprising a good time, you know, for being sixteen and all. And now, she’s fucking a fish.”

Killian had made a lot of progress over the years abstaining from giving into his more violent impulses when he was angry but the second Booth smirked and kept spewing nasty things about Beth, he saw red. He grabbed Booth by the front of his t-shirt, hook piercing the worn cotton. He glared down at the drunken man with murder in his eyes, wishing that that his hook was lodged in the man’s neck rather than his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this pitiful excuse for a human being to choke on his own blood.

The entire bar went silent as Killian grabbed Booth, watching with wary but curious eyes. He had no doubt that someone in the crowd was texting his sons to let them know what was happening at the Rabbit Hole.

“It would be a wise decision if you stopped talking,” Killian said in a dangerously soft tone. “Just stop talking. Because if you say another word about her, I can’t promise you that you’re going to leave this bar tonight with your face intact.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Booth scoffed. “You’re a cop. Besides, after all, we were almost family.”

“What are you talking about?” Killian hissed.

Killian pulled Booth closer. His hook slipped further into his shirt until the fabric hit the top of Killian’s brace and the sharp tip was poking into Booth’s chin. The steel nicked Booth’s skin, blood trickling down the side of Killian’s hook.

Either Booth was so drunk that he didn’t feel the hook digging into his chin or he was just insane, but he laughed as Killian got in his face; arrogant and completely unafraid.

“Didn’t think I knew about the baby, did you? She told me she thought she was pregnant and I know you killed it. Couldn’t bear the thought that I put a bastard in that belly, huh? I’ve always wanted to know how you got rid of it. Did you take her to a clinic across the town line or do it the old fashion way with tea and tansy? You’re an old fashioned boy, aren’t you, Deputy? I’m betting it was the tea.”

Killian’s eyes bulged and he nearly yanked Booth off his seat in his rage. There were a few gasps that resounded around the room and Killian became very aware that the people around him had heard the ridiculous accusations that Booth had made.

“Do you know what I hate more than sloppy violent drunks, Booth? Shameless liars who try to tarnish the names of ladies,” Killian replied through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you twice now to stop bringing my daughter and lying about her. Mention her name again and I will make good on my threats.”

Booth laughed in Killian’s face again.

“Lady? Please! Your daughter is a wh-” Booth didn’t finish his sentence.

Killian’s fist connected with Booth’s jaw with a loud sickening crack. Booth sunk back in his seat, knocked cold by the combination of Killian’s hard swing and the massive amounts of alcohol in his system. Killian shook out his hand, hissing slightly at the throbbing in his knuckles. He detached his hook from Booth’s shirt, not caring as the unconscious man’s head slumped forward and smacked into the table. He pulled out his cuffs, roughly brought Booth’s hands behind the chair and restrained his arms.

The bartender Nick was an old friend of Killian’s. He had been working at the Rabbit Hole for as long as Killian could remember. He was a heavyset man with graying black hair and a lightly bearded face who shared Killian’s penchant for wearing black. Nick was a capable man and didn’t often call about the drunks who inhabited the Rabbit Hole, often preferring to take care of them by himself. However, like Killian, he was an aging man and had recently had a hip replacement surgery. Drunk wrangling wasn’t easy for him anymore.

Nick had a glass of rum waiting for him on the counter when Killian looked up.

“On the house, Captain,” Nick said with a sympathetic look.

Killian looked at the rum then looked back at Booth who was unconscious and probably would be for a few more moments. Feeling still a bit raw and petty, he kicked Booth’s foot unkindly before joining Nick at the bar with a weary expression.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, lifting the glass and taking a healthy sip. “I needed that.”

“It’s a pity that you didn’t get to hit him before he passed out on the table,” Nick said loudly, looking sternly at his patrons as if daring to them to contradict him.

Killian snorted.

“That’s not necessary,” Killian said. “He was so liquored up, I doubt he’ll remember it.”

“Hey, I don’t want you getting in trouble. I’ll lose my best customer then,” Nick replied. “Besides he was saying shit about your daughter. Beth’s a good girl. She doesn’t need those rumors flying around.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Killian responded, taking another generously gulp.

“Speaking of your daughter…How is Beth doing these days?” Nick asked casually.

“Well. She’s doing well. Grown up and off doing her own thing. Barely has time for her old man anymore,” Killian chuckled. “David is convinced she’s going to be settling soon since she’s been seeing Will for a year now. You’ve probably seen him around be around before. Ariel’s boy. Big tall ginger lad.”

“Ah, so the fish comment now makes sense. I didn’t quite get that,” Nick said with a nod. “A pirate’s daughter with a mermaid’s son. That’s quite the pair. Is he a good guy?”

“He’s a very nice kid,” Killian replied diplomatically. “Very respectful. Very polite. Just as charming as his mother. Asks a lot of questions like her too.”

Nick frowned as he listened to Killian’s words, cleaning down his side of the bar as he did so.

“Sounds decent enough. But you don’t seem to like him.”

“I don’t like anyone who dates my daughter. But I like Will as much as I could given the circumstances. He’s a thousand leagues better than Whiskey Dick over there,” Killian said, jabbing his thumb back in Booth’s direction. “But I can’t figure out what Beth likes about him. He’s too…safe. Too vanilla. She leads him around by the dick.”

“Maybe she likes that. If I recall your daughter as well as I think do, she’s always been on the bossy side,” Nick commented, taking Killian’s empty glass and pouring him another drink.

“That’s my little girl you’re talking about, mate.”

“Allow me to apologize. Your drink is on me again,” Nick replied lightly.

Nick pushed it across the bar until it stopped against Killian’s forearm. He took and raised it in thanks before bringing it to his lips. A comfortable silence fell between the two men.

“Killian, we’ve known each other for a long time…” Nick started, looking unsure for a moment.

“Since I pilfered your rum stock when I first arrived back with Cora. I remember it well,” Killian chuckled.

“Yeah. I’m never going to forget that, you old bastard, but please understand that I don’t mean to insult you or your family when I ask this, and you’re quite welcome to steal my rum stock again for this question, but is there’s any stock in what Booth said? I mean, he’s drunk out of his mind, but he seemed to believe what he was saying and you know what they say…drunk words, sober thoughts.”

Killian’s jaw worked. He wanted to berate his barkeep for asking the question and follow it up with a taste of his hook, but the truth was that Booth’s words had been marinating in the back of his head since he heard them. Beth had never mentioned Booth to him, and they had lengthy conversations about her paramours in the past without much issue. If there was once something between Booth and his daughter, he would like to think that she would have told him about it, especially if there was a pregnancy involved.

“No,” Killian said firmly. “He’s just a fuckhead. Beth would have told me if she was involved with him.”

Nick gave him a sad smile.

“You sure? Teenage girls tend to hide things like unsavory boyfriends…”

“Positive,” Killian replied with as much conviction as he could muster. “Beth has always been open with me about her relationships with her boyfriends and her girlfriends. Booth is full of shit.”

“Just checking,” Nick said before leaning down, grabbing an unopened bottle of rum and placing it down in front of Killian. “For your troubles, old friend. I wasn’t sure if he had struck a nerve or not aside from just being a complete shitbag. Needed to know if I was going to have to help you hide a body later.”

Killian and Nick didn’t discuss much after the exchange. Killian finished his glass, picked up the unopened bottle and placed it in the crook of his arm before not too gently dragging the still unconscious Booth into the back of his car. Killian stopped by the station and placed Booth in one of the holding cells. As he hauled Booth onto the metal bed, he looked down at him and studied his features.

Despite being an absolute piece of garbage in Killian’s mind, Booth was admittedly on the attractive side. He had lots of thick wavy hair and almost feminine looking eyelashes. His visage was one could be classified as conventionally handsome. He could see why women would like him even if he was an unsavory character while intoxicated.

Had his daughter fallen for this pretty face? Killian wanted to think that his daughter was capable of seeing the character that lay behind the mask. He had always taught her on how looks could be deceiving and had even advised her to use her own to her advantage if she was in a tough situation and if her life depended on it.

Booth had given a specific age. He had claimed to have slept with Beth when she was sixteen. The very thought sickened him. Beth had always been clever and a head more mature than her peers; always trying to act older than she was. Killian had always attributed it to the fact she had a tendency to hang around her older brothers and their friends. On top of that, as intelligent as she was, Beth had always been horribly impulsive, jumping into things before she had really assessed them; continuously brazen and bold. With as lively and beautiful as she was, Beth was definitely capable of catching anyone’s eye and with Booth being older than her, she would have thought of him as a challenge.

Furthermore, Killian had never made it a secret how he felt about Benny Booth. He had never been a fan, but then again, this wasn’t surprising, considering who his father was. Killian disliked August Booth with a passion of a thousand suns and didn’t necessarily like the looks August gave his wife. He was even less of a fan when August had arrived back in Storybrooke twenty years ago with a three-year old son and had all but dropped that son on his elderly father Macro. As much as he didn’t care to admit it, a lot of Killian’s dislike of Benny stemmed from his dislike of August. Beth had known this. Perhaps knowing his dislike for the Booths had made her reluctant to admit to her father that she was attracted to him.

The more Killian pondered, the less confident he felt.

Beth getting involved with Booth? It was a possibility, Killian begrudgingly admitted it. But Booth getting Beth pregnant? That was really the kicker. He really didn’t want to believe that Beth would keep something that major from him or that she was even capable of hiding something like that. She was clever, but not that clever. Killian had supported his wife through four different pregnancies. He would like to think he could spot the symptoms if he saw them again. He raked his memory, trying to find something that would imply that Beth, at some point, could have possibly have been pregnant but there was nothing.

The more Killian thought and the more he looked at Booth, the more he wanted to kill him for even putting these horrid thoughts in his head. He left the station as quickly as he could, trying to put as much distance between himself and Booth as he possibly could.

When Killian crawled into bed next to his wife that night, Emma immediately turned to face him and curled her arms around his torso. When she felt how tense he was, she frowned sleepily and looked at the pensive expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

“Nothing,” he replied with a sigh.

She pressed her fingers into the stiff muscles of his shoulders. He winced slightly at the feeling.

“This does not feel like nothing,” she said.

“Benny Booth said something and I can’t get it out of my head,” Killian sighed.

“Well, what was it? If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s got to be something.” Emma shifted closer to him. Her fingers trailed down his clavicle and his arm until they brushed against his only hand. Her hand gently met his and she laced their fingers together, getting him gentle squeeze.

“According to Benny, he and Beth were a thing once upon a time…”

“A thing?”

“Well, he pointblank said he fucked her and claimed she had gotten pregnant,” Killian clarified, glaring up at the ceiling. “He accused me of aborting the child.”

Emma sat up and looked at him with a mixture of horror, shock and outrage. He sat as well, searching her face. It didn’t seem like his wife knew anything more about this absurd tale than he did. Killian had been certain that Emma would never keep something like this from him if he knew, but they did have a history of keeping things from one another if they thought it was too upsetting.

“That’s quite the story and quite an accusation,” Emma breathed. Her green eyes were still wide as she regarded him. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

“Every part of me wants to call him a lying sack of shit, but he seemed so certain. He was drunk as a skunk, but that’s nothing something you come up with when you’re too deep in your cups,” Killian sighed. “Well, one thing he’s wrong about is that I certainly didn’t make my daughter have an abortion. That is something I would never do. But did Beth and him ever have a thing? I’m not certain. She never spoken of him, but this keeps rubbing me raw.”

“I would hate to think that I was so oblivious that I didn’t notice that my baby was having a baby,” Emma remarked, running her hands through her hair. “But then again, I thought Neddy was menopause.”

They silently regarded each other for a moment, both of them tired but full of adrenaline. Emma was fiddling with the corner of their down comforter, biting her lip. Killian swallowed for a moment before reaching for his phone which he had left on his bedroom table. He thumbed in his passcode before scrolling through his contacts.

“You are seriously not calling our daughter at two in the morning!” Emma hissed, whacking his shoulder.

“No,” Killian sighed. “I’m calling Henry.”

“Why the hell are you calling Henry?!” Emma exclaimed. “He sure as hell isn’t going to be up! You really want to wake him and Jacinda up over this insanity!? No! Killian put it down!”

Killian paused in his task and looked up at Emma with an exasperated look.

“Look, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until I get some answers. If anyone is going to know anything, it’s Henry. They always tell him everything. I bet you the Jolly that if Beth had any involvement with Booth, he would know. And he also is the only one out of the five who knows how to forge my signature. If she had a procedure done…well, no one would think twice if he claimed to be her father…He would have been able to give authorized consent. I need to know this, Swan,” Killian said in a near lecturing tone. “I need this. I need to know. And Henry owes us.”

“What do you mean he owe us? Killian, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all the times in college he called us at two, three or four in the morning because he was drunk and needed something. Remember when he lost his keys during that absurd school festival of his and we had to get a locksmith to make a new car key? I’m cashing my payback in for that,” Killian replied.

“That was eighteen years ago, Killian,” Emma groaned while rubbing her temples.

“Perhaps. But I don’t care,” he said, not looking at her as he pressed his thumb on Henry’s name and placed the phone to his ear.

The line rang three times before Henry picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was muffled by sleep. There was a loud yawn that followed the greeting. It was obvious that the phone call had awoken him.

Killian didn’t care.

“I’m going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer them honestly yes or no,” Killian said tersely.

Emma groaned beside him and there was a long pause on the other end of the line. Killian was about to address him again when Henry spoke up.

“…May I ask why I’m facing the Inquisition?” Henry asked with another yawn.

“Because someone said something to me tonight and I need answers. And if anyone knows the truth of the situation, it’s you,” Killian replied.

“They really must have said something if you’re calling me at two in the morning on a Friday? Saturday? Fuck, I don’t even know. All I know is that it’s too early for this…Why would I know the truth about anything?”

“Because WWHD,” Killian said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his ear.

Emma was looking at him in confusion. Upon seeing her expression, Killian made a sigh and he nudged her arm to the side with his injured arm, tapping the inner side of her wrist with his blunted one. Her eyes went wide when she realized what he was referring to.

When Beth turned eighteen, she and the boys had the brilliant idea of getting matching tattoos. Killian couldn’t necessarily judge. He had more inked skin than not, but they hadn’t necessarily told their parents about this plan before they had done it. The day after they had celebrated together, they had come home with bandages on their wrists. Harrison, Wes and Beth all had gotten the words ‘WWHD’ tattooed on them. When Emma had asked what that meant, Harrison who replied that it stood for a question they all asked quite often when they were in trouble.

“WWHD? What are you talking about, Killian?” Henry asked, sounding now more confused than sleepy.

“WWHD. What. Would. Henry. Do,” Killian responded, emphasizing each word. “Your brothers and sister admire you more than anyone else. If they told anyone anything, it would be you. Don’t deny it. I know you’ve bailed them all out once or twice. I’m not angry with you about that. That’s just being a good brother, but this…I need to know.”

“Okay, okay, easy Killian. I’ll talk. Okay? Death Star plans? Marauders maps? The one ring to rule them all? It’s all yours. Just ask.”

It always amazed him just much Henry could sound like Emma at times. And this was definitely one of those times. The pure exasperation in his voice was definitely something he got from his mother.

Killian licked his chapped hips for a moment and looked his wife in the eye. She gave him a firm nod. He kept her gaze as he asked his question.

“Was Beth ever involved with Benny Booth?”

Over the phone, Killian could hear Henry suck on his teeth when he heard the question. Killian closed his eyes. There was silence and Killian knew the answer before Henry even spoke. He wanted to throw something, preferably his phone but he wanted, no, he needed Henry to answer the question.

“Yes,” Henry said reluctantly.

Killian tossed his phone down on the bed with a frustrated noise crawling up the back his throat. He picked it up again and put the phone on ‘speaker mode’ so that Emma could hear the conversation. Emma seemed to realize the answer that Killian had received because she paled visibly.

“You’re on speaker. Your mother is awake and listening,” Killian informed his stepson. “Now, you’re going to tell us everything you know.”

“Well, this is certainly a wakeup call. Look, give me a second and we’ll talk. I really don’t want to wake my wife. I think you both can understand and sympathize with that,” Henry said and there was a snappish hint to his tone.

Killian rolled his eyes and Emma leaned forward to give him a smack on the shoulder. If Killian wasn’t so anxious over the situation at hand, he would have offered his wife a smirk, a wink and a tumble in the sheets, but all joy seemed to be sucked out of him at that moment.

There was rustling on Henry’s end following by a soft clicking down, which Killian could only assume was a door.

“Okay, I’m back, High Inquisitor. You may begin your interrogation,” Henry said with a sigh,

“I would tell you’re hilarious, but I’m afraid I’m not in a charitable mood,” Killian replied with a small scowl. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Benny Booth and Beth. In as much detail as you possibly can provide, lad.”

“To be honest with you, I don’t have that many details, Killian,” Henry sighed. “I don’t know when they got together or how they got together or how long they were a thing. Beth was pretty scant on the details when she told me. She just thought she was in a bad place and that they had broken up and that she needed my help. I know that they ended on horrible terms and they haven’t spoken to each other since…I do know that Benny was as big of a douche-canoe as you can imagine and wrote some pretty shitty stuff about her in the bathroom at Flavors. It really hurt her, but I think Wes and Harrison took care of that.”

“That’s why Harrison threw Benny Booth over the Hermans’ fence that summer,” Emma gasped, eyes wide. “He never said why he did. Just fixed the fence without complaint.”

Killian recalled the incident in question vividly. Nothing had shocked him more than getting a phone call from Sean Herman about how his eldest son had lifted up Benny Booth and had nearly tossed him over the white picket fence that outlined their property. Harrison hadn’t been able to completely fulfill his human toss as Booth’s ass hadn’t cleared the top of the posts and therefore had broken that section of the fence. No matter how much Killian and Emma had grilled him, Harrison had never given an explanation for assaulting the young man. He had just quietly accepted his punishment without compliant.

His sons had known about the relationship and what it had done to their sister. They had never told him anything about it. A strange mixture of guilt and rage churned in Killian’s gut.

“Henry, I need you to answer me honestly now, lad,” Killian said after he fully digested the information. “Did Beth ever mention anything about being pregnant?”

Henry was quiet for long a time. As the silence stretched, Killian and Emma shared another anxious look. This was not a good sign.

“Beth was never actually pregnant,” Henry said cautiously. Killian and Emma both breathed sighs of relief. A weight lifted itself from Killian’s shoulder and he felt much lighter than he had since Booth had thrown the accusations around. “She thought she might be and she called me. I got her a test and it came out negative. And that was the end of it.”

“Henry, why didn’t you say anything?” Emma said, taking Killian’s hand and squeezing it.

“Because it wasn’t mine to tell. Look, I wanted her to tell you. I told her to tell you, but she didn’t.”

“That’s not her call,” Killian said sharply. “She was a little kid. She doesn’t get to make that decision. Henry, you were the adult. You should have told us.”

Emma sucked in a breath at the anger that was building up in Killian’s tone. She gave him a warning look that he didn’t give much mind to because he was more than aware that if he did then they would get into a nasty fight.

“I was between a rock and a hard place, Killian. I wanted you to know, but she didn’t want you to. She begged me not to tell you about it. Numerous times. I didn’t approve of her keeping it from you, but I didn’t want to lose her trust. I was thinking in the long term. If I had told you, she would have stopped telling me things and I thought you would rather have an adult who she could turn to in a time of need instead of going at all alone,” Henry said defensively.

“All I’m hearing is a bunch of weak excuses as to why I wasn’t notified that my daughter had a crisis and was harassed,” Killian responded, almost spitting his words in his fury. “The key wording here is that she’s MY daughter, Henry. Mine. I know it gets a little confusing sometimes with the age differences, but she’s not your child. How would you feel if Lucy had a crisis like this and I kept it from you? Because I’m fairly certain you would punch me in the face if I kept it from you for four years. Four fucking years.”

“There is no need to bring Lucy into this just because you’re pissed off with me,” Henry snapped.

“Apologies, I meant no disrespect to her, she is my granddaughter after all, but I need you to understand this from a father’s prospective, not a brother’s. This isn’t just hiding Wes when he’s too hungover or buying a new couch because Harrison broke the old one and he didn’t want us to know. This…this is bigger than that. This…I’m not sure I can forgive this,” Killian replied.

There a long silence that followed. Emma was pale and staring at him in disbelief. Killian was still feeling raw; emotions that he hadn’t felt in a long time were quelling inside of him. He felt like he was on the verge of exploding.

“You know what, Killian? You can be mad at me. You don’t have to forgive me. You’re entitled to whatever. But it’s three in the morning and I really am not in the mood to be berated and yelled at like I’m seventeen again for something that happened four years ago. So, I’m going to hang up before this goes any further. Goodnight.”

When the call ended, Killian picked up his phone and threw it against the wall. It made contact with a loud thud before falling. It bounced three times before laying defeated on the rug. Killian leaned back against the pillows, placing his forearm over his eyes and letting out an angry sigh. He wanted yell, fight, destroy something and cry at all the same time.

“Did that make you feel better?” Emma asked after a moment.

“No,” Killian said hollowly.

“If you shattered your screen again, I’m going to have to kill you. Those things are horrible to replace,” Emma signed.

Killian lifted his arm and look at her with an expression that couldn’t decide if it was perplexed or annoyed. Emma, who had long since learned that her husband was a bit more open with his emotions than she was, took his hand back in hers and gave him a small squeeze.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Killian,” she sighed. “All I can say is thank god she wasn’t pregnant. And fighting with Henry isn’t going to change anything.”

Killian didn’t reply, mainly because he knew she was right. There was absolutely nothing he could do about the situation now, except possibly beat Booth bloody, kill him and then take Nick up on his offer to help hide the body. He couldn’t do that though. His wife would kill him.

The real heart of the issue lay in the betrayal. He was used to the boys keeping things from him. In fact, he had come to expect that from them but Beth? Killian had been certain that nothing could have come between them. They had a relationship that he had been led to believe was based upon openness and honesty. She kept this from him. And apparently all of his children had been in on it. Henry had gotten the test and kept it a secret. Harrison had assaulted the bastard and hadn’t said anything. Idly Killian wondered how Wes had reacted to the news and what his retaliation had been. The sadistic part of Killian hoped it was clever, painful and humiliating.

“Goddamn it, Elizabeth,” Killian muttered under his breath. His heart felt heavy.

“Well, lucky for me, Beth and Will are stopping by tomorrow,” Emma said lightly. “You won’t be a brooding and sulking mess for long, and the screaming match won’t be delayed. It will be nice to have this all out in the air. Just promise me you won’t do it on the front lawn. The neighbors talk about us enough as is.”

“Very funny, Swan,” Killian grumbled before turning to look at her.

He looked his wife in the eye and tried to convey all the emotion that he was feeling that he couldn’t bring himself to express through words; the anger, the betrayal, the fear and, most of all the pain. Physically, Kilian’s back ached, his knuckles were bruised and his knees weren’t what they used to be. But emotionally? He felt as if he had been skinned and covered in salt.

Emma sighed, understanding what he couldn’t say and bringing his hand up to her lips and giving it a kiss. As her mouth brushed against his discolored knuckles, he was reminded of all the times he had done the same action to comfort her.

“She didn’t tell me, Emma. She kept this from me.” The fact kept repeating in the back of his mind like a broken record.

“Of course, she didn’t, Killian. She was a teenager. And that’s such a typical dirtbag teenage thing to do. I can understand you’re hurt, but I’m not surprised,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile.

“We were always so close. I thought she told me everything. She came to me when she got her period. She came to me when she got kissed for the first time. She told me about every single fight she had with her girlfriend or boyfriend at the time. She admitted to me when she got that tattoo underage…” Killian trailed off.

“Maybe that was the problem,” Emma said quietly. “Maybe you were too close…”

“What do you mean?”

Emma was quiet for a while. Killian pulled at their hands, not disconnecting their fingers, but moving them so that their hands over his heart. He waited patiently, allowing her to gather her thoughts.

“I was jealous, you know? Of you and Beth. You two were always as thick as thieves. She looked at you like you were both the sun and the moon. She always followed you around, always went to you, always wanted to be you. Everything was Dad! Dad! Dad! She looked at you like a god. She never saw me that way even though I carried that child for the longest nine months of my life,” Emma said with a harsh swallow.

Killian couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something but words were failing him.

“I made my peace with it because it was something that was just so pure…I just didn’t want to ruin it or see it ruined…Anyway, that is not the point,” Emma paused for a moment, gathering her bearings. “The point is I’m certain that to this day that there is no one Beth loves more than you Killian, but with that worship…there is a certain need to be perfect, to be worthy of the person you hold so dear. As someone who has lived through a teenage pregnancy, there is a lot of shame to it. Tattoos, drinking, dating, violence, sex. Those are things that be spun as something cool, something to be admired. There’s nothing admirable about being pregnant as a teenager. How do you tell someone you love so much, someone you admire, someone who is your god, that you are in a situation that is surrounded with so much shame?”

“I didn’t want to be her god,” Killian whispered. “I just wanted to be her father.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s just how it was. You wanted to an explanation of why she didn’t tell and I’m telling you why. She didn’t want to lessen yourself in your eyes. Henry? She loves him, but he’s not you. His disapproval is nothing to compared to yours. That is why she didn’t tell you and she told him, Killian.”

Killian didn’t sleep well that night. The secrets that Henry had unveiled and Emma’s comments kept swimming in his head and they wouldn’t let him go. He spent the majority of the night staring at the ceiling and wondering what else his daughter had kept from him.

Despite the pain, the anger and the disappointment, Killian found it in himself to smile when his daughter and her boyfriend arrived the next morning. Beth, who had spent the last month in the Enchanted Forrest with Will and his parents, looked happy, healthy and incredibly tanned. As a child, Beth had Emma’s lily white complexion, but now she looked just as swarthy as Killian had in his pirate days. It made both her green eyes and the freckles on her face look more pronounced. Her hair now was longer than Emma’s had ever been, but still wild with small braids running through it. She looked more pirate than princess, wearing leather breeches, a silken maroon blouse and a dark corset. It amazed him how as Beth got older, Killian started notice more resemblances that his daughter had with him than his wife.

“Dad!” Beth cried, letting go of Will’s hand and sprinting towards her father.

Killian stepped forward and pulled her into a fierce hug, closing his eyes and he held her close. She smelled like the sea, and a part of him jolted at the scent; there was a small part of him that still longed to be out on the ocean, free from everything.

“Welcome home, Minnow,” Killian murmured against her hair.

“I missed you.” Beth snuggled herself against him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck as she had since she was a little girl.

“I missed you more,” he replied and it was the truth. No matter what she had done and how much it had hurt him, he still loved her fiercely and ached when she went away. It was hard at times to swallow, but his daughter was nearly grown and out of the nest.

As they pulled a part, Will approached him and held out his hand for Killian to shake.

“Hello Mr. Jones. A pleasure to see you again. It’s been too long. Perhaps next time, you will join us at my parent’s castle. My mother misses you terribly,” Will greeted with a broad grin.

Killian’s first impression of Will was that he smiled too much, but then again, that had been the same thought he had about Will’s mother Ariel when he first met her. Despite the grim circumstances and less than savory outcome of their first meeting, Killian had found Ariel to be determined, unfailingly optimistic and full of energy. Will was the same way. He greatly resembled his mother with his fiery red hair, kind eyes and wide smile. The only thing he seemed to have gotten from his father was his stature and ability to be perfectly content with being driven about by a strong woman.

“No need to call me Mr. Jones, Will,” Killian said good-naturedly. “You can call me Killian. Or even Hook would be more preferred.”

"No can do, sir,” Will said the name like he was testing it on his tongue. “I mean I've always known you as Hook, but my mother taught me better than that. She always loved to tell us about the pirate who fell in love with a princess and would do anything to get back to her, but she would slap me across the face if I called you by your first name. It's just not respectful.”

Killian wouldn’t help the faint blush that rose to his cheeks and Beth laughed.

“I didn’t realize she shared those stories,” Killian muttered as Beth pulled him into a side hug.

“Oh yes. She loves to tell us that any fish-head could be a prince as long as he had someone to love,” Will responded with an amused smile.

Beth laughed even harder and Killian just chuckled.

“Well, Ariel isn’t wrong. Luckily this fish-head got his lady or this marvelous creature wouldn’t be here today,” Killian replied, placing a quick kiss on top of his daughter’s head. “Though, Will, I must apologize though, because I am hoping to steal your lady tonight. You see, my favorite daughter has been gone for a month and we need to have a drink together, pirate to pirate. I hope you’re willing to forgive me.”

“I’m your only daughter,” Beth said with some amusement.

“That just makes you my favorite,” Killian chuckled.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Though I wouldn’t call her mine. She’s her own person, wild and powerful as the sea and no one, not even myself, could give own such a thing. If Beth wants to have a night with her father, she’s more than welcome to have it,” Will replied, taking Beth’s free hand and giving it a kiss.

Beth grinned at Will, affection clear in her eyes.

“You’re sweet and very cheesy,” she said, leaning upwards to give Will a quick kiss.

“I’m yours,” he responded with a fond smile.

Killian desperately hoped this wasn’t what he and his wife looked like when they were making eyes at each other. It was almost too saccharine for him to handle.

The sweet words, constant touching and cuddling continued throughout the entire day. It was almost disturbing to Killian to see his daughter so in sync with another person aside from himself. Will seemed to know whenever Beth wanted something and got it for her without complaints while Beth seemed to sense whenever Will was getting uncomfortable with a subject and would change the direction of the conversation. It made Killian uncomfortable.

And it was only going to get more uncomfortable, Killian knew. He was going to have to confront his daughter when they went for drinks. He just couldn’t keep what he had learned to himself. He needed to her to look him in the eyes and tell him everything.

When the moment came and they arrived at the Rabbit Hole for their drink, Killian made sure to place him and Beth at the furthest end of the bar where no one would over hear them or bother them. Killian met Nick’s eye as they sat down and held up two fingers at him.

“You’re actually allowing me to drink? Nick is actually going to serve me?” Beth asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I fail to see why not. You’ve been drinking since you were fifteen. Don’t think I don’t know about that because I do. You’re twenty and the only person who could arrest him for serving someone underage is me,” Killian responded with a shrug.

Nick approached, placing two glasses of rum in front of them.

“Hey Beth, you’re looking tan,” Nick greeted. “I almost didn’t recognize you and thought to myself ‘Who is the poor gorgeous woman with Killian Jones? Is she brain damaged?’”

Killian rolled his eyes, snorting as he picked up his drink.

“Well, you get tan when you spend in an entire month in the Enchanted Forrest and occupy most of the day by being in the water,” Beth laughed.

“Your father says your boyfriend is a merman,” Nick stated with a small grin.

“Did he now?” Beth asked, circling the rim of her glass with her pointer finger. “What else did he say?”

“That he’s not good enough for you,” Nick replied with a shrug.

“The first one is true. Occasionally my boyfriend has fins instead of feet, but he’s more than good enough. Trust me on that,” Beth said, taking a large sip of her rum.

“I’ll take your word for it. Dads tend not to be reliable on that sort of thing. They think no one is good enough for their girls,” Nick chuckled.

“Don’t you have other customers, Nick?” Killian asked archly.

“I do and I also know when I’m being dismissed,” Nick replied smoothly. “I’ll let you have your drinks. Beth, if he gives you any trouble, just give me a shout you hear?”

Nick gave Killian a mocking low bow before turning to serve a gaggle of young women who were sitting at the other end of the bar. Beth shook her hair, smirking a bit.

“Some things never change,” she commented.

“Eh, some things do. Mainly in ways you never expect,” Killian responded rather cryptically.

Beth bit her lip for a moment, looking down at her glass but looking up at her father with a small smile.

“I’m glad we’re doing this. I missed you terribly. Ariel and Eric have a beautiful kingdom, but it’s nothing compared to home. And there was no swordsman I couldn’t beat. No one was as good as me” Beth said, voice filled with pride.

“Ah, well, not many men are taught from age six and have two master swordsmen as teachers. Nor does anyone practice as much as you do. I still get up early and have a jaunt and work on my strikes in the backyard, but it’s not the same without you too….” Killian said with a sad smile. “You and I, we’ve always been close.”

“Yeah, we have,” Beth grinned. “I love that about us.”

And that was a moment that Killian knew that he couldn’t keep what he knew and how he felt to himself. This was the opening. He finished his rum before he spoke.

“Yeah, but you don’t love it enough to tell me about what happened with Booth and that pregnancy scare of yours.”

Beth stiffened, as if someone had casted a freezing spell on her. The only movement was the widening of her eyes. She didn’t move for a good few minutes, but when she did it was to open her mouth. She looked like she was trying to say words but she was put on mute. She swallowed for a moment before finally finding her voice.

“You know?”

“I know,” Killian said before taking her glass of rum and downing it himself. If there was ever a conservation that needed a drink, it was this one.

Beth was still stunned. She didn’t even react to him stealing her glass.

“Did Henry tell you?” She asked in a hushed voice.

“No. Not at first. You should have told Booth you weren’t ever pregnant though, so he didn’t shout out about your dalliance and accuse me of making you get an abortion in front of an entire bar,” Killian replied, vaguely surprised that he was about to keep his tone even.

Beth buried her head in her hands on the bar.

“Shit.” Her voice was slightly muffed by her arms, but Killian could still hear the curse.

“Shit is definitely word for it,” Killian remarked. “There are lot of other words I would use, but we’re kinda in public and I don’t think everyone would appreciate that much salty language.”

“Shit,” Beth repeated, not looking up from her hands.

“Is that all you’re going to say, Elizabeth?”

“What would you like for me to say, Dad?” Beth looking up from her hands. Her face was pale, as if the tan she had gained over the last month had been drained for her face.

“Well, you could start with the fuck you thought you were doing? Why you never said anything? It’s been four years, Elizabeth, four years and you’ve never breathed a word of it to me. Never. I’m more than just your swordplay instructor, I’m your father. You’re supposed to tell me when these happen!” Killian stated, his voice rising with every word.

He slammed his fist down on the bar, causing his daughter to flinch.

“Dad…I…I thought I could handle it,” she whispered

“You were not supposed to be handling it. You were a child. You had no business being around Booth and you certainly had no business thinking you handle that situation alone. I thought we were better than this, Elizabeth. I never thought this would ever happen with you. I thought you smarter than that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to hate me…”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you,” Killian respond, taking one of her hands and squeezing it hard. “Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I angry? Without a doubt. Am I hurt that my only daughter trust me enough to love her and support her when she needs it? That’s one I feel most of all. I failed you as a father. It’s my job to protect and raise you and to teach you how to manage in this world, and I failed you.”

He had finally given a voice to the emotion that he didn’t want to name. Failure. He had failed her. If he had spent more time being a father rather than an idol to follow, then this situation wouldn’t have happened. She would have told him about Booth and maybe he could have prevented this entire saga from happening.

Beth shook her head violently.

“You didn’t fail me. You didn’t fail me at all. You were the best. You are the best. I fucked up,” Beth said, her voice cracking. Tears were dribbling in earnest down her cheeks.

When Beth was a child, she rarely cried. She screamed to the high heavens and tore things apart like the little human hurricane she was, but rarely did tears come to her eyes. In fact, Killian could count only sixteen instances in her twenty years of life where she had burst into water works. He hated it. There was nothing Killian hated more than the sight of his daughter sobbing. He cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumb, brushing gently against the apple of her cheek.

“You’re supposed to fuck up,” Killian said with a sigh. “That’s practically your job as child. You’re supposed to fuck up, but you’re supposed to trust me to teach you and help you fix your fuck up. You don’t trust me enough and for that I’m sorry.”

“But I do trust you…” Beth whispered. “Daddy, I trust you so much.”

“But not enough to let me help you with something like that…”

“How do I fix this?” she asked, almost desperately.

“I’m going to tell you something your mother once told me. Elizabeth, you come to me. I don’t care what it is whether you’re pregnant with a fishstick, murdered someone or whatever. You come to me. And you lean on me. And trust me to be able to help you. We can’t hide things from each other, love. I hoped the daughter that I raised would know that, but apparently you don’t, and that’s my fault. But whatever it is, no matter what, I will help you out because I’m your father and that isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I can do that. I can do that, I promise,” Beth said with a brittle smile.

“I want to believe that. I really do,” Killian replied, giving her a fragile grin of his own.

Father and daughter regarded each other for a while as if they were both taking their time to examine the fractures of their relationship. Beth took his hand away from her face and held it in her own. She didn’t lace their fingers together like she normally did.

“Where do we go from here…?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Well, things are going to take time. That’s just the nature of it, love. But for now, I guess we can talk about how everything is between you and Will, and you can give me heart palpitations when you tell me how much you want to marry him?” Killian said with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t mind marrying him,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“So, it’s that serious?” Killian frowned.

“Dad, I’ve been with Will for year. Of course it’s serious, but I’m not planning on wearing white anytime soon. If he asked I wouldn’t say no,” Beth said with a shrug.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Killian said, filing this information for later. He couldn’t deal with anymore heavy emotions at the moment. “Good to know. It’s just funny. I always joked that you would end up with a pirate, but I think I can handle grandchildren with fins.”

“Don’t think I turn Will into a pirate?” she teased and her smile almost convinced him that she had recovered from their conversation. Almost.

“Elizabeth, you can do anything you set your mind to.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #dad!killian #little pirates fic #little pirates #beth jones #no leg to stand on #introducing will seaborn #and benny #but fuck benny

49 notes · View notes