#and ive never really put them on paper fully

[tiramissyoucake]

I would LOVE to see a fic based on your different roles thingy with the variants, especially the pastry chef and idol one! <3

THANK YOU THANK YOU IVE BEEN WAITING RAAAAAAH HERE ARE 2 SNIPPETS not as good as I hoped but I hope ya'll like it

Based on this

Full-Mask Invincible:

"Is that all, then?" You were sweeter than the desserts in the display case, Mark nodded his head absentmindedly, a light pink dusting his cheeks with a dopey smile, he should say something.

"Yeah.. hey— uh, I... really love the cupcakes you make, I was never a big 'dessert' guy, but yours?" He made a chef's kiss gesture prompting a small laugh from you, embarrassing but effective. "Can't go a day without 'em."

Your smile was adorable as your hard work was praised. "Thank you! I usually have to make them really early and then put them here myself," you explained while gesturing to the kitchen doors in the back then the case infront of you. "Helps that I open before lunch rush."

He nodded in acknowledgment as he tugged out the sum for his dessert's cost from his wallet. "Smart! I'd gladly trample over a few businessmen to get the last few cookies." His joke invoked another laugh, damn. He was on fire today.

As you carefully wrapped up the box and placed it in a paper bag, you caught a glimpse of the cake pops you kept near the register. "Here, two cake pops, on the house!"

His eyebrows went up at that, his mom loved those. "Wait, are you sure? C'mon, you gotta let me pay—"

"I insist! Consider it thanks for supporting local businesses!" God, your smile, your tone. He was ready to melt into a puddle then and there.

. . .

Seeing you again, in a world that wasn't his shook him to his core, he remembers the catastrophe your bakery went through; an explosion. Someone tried to take something away from him and they killed you. baked goods that never got displayed or even tasted, you were crushed under the rubble.

His body moved before his mind could send any commands, shooting straight for you through the clouds, buildings and whatever running civilians remained, his arms clamping down around you.

"It's you— you're alive- I can't believe you're-" his rambling went on as he let out a sigh of relief, your fear and shaking hands unknown to him. "Mark?! What're you doing here?!"

"What do you mean? I'm here for you!" He pulled back, his face fully obscured save for the goggles, you could barely see tears behind the translucent material. "God— you're just as beautiful as you were in my world, come here, it's not safe—"

You snatched your hand back harshly, looking at him with an angered expression. "You're one of them!" You announced, wary. "The psychos running around in Invincible costumes!"

His heart dropped, you never looked at him like that— you were always sweet, soft. As soft as the desserts you made were chewy and sugary.

"(Name), please, don't be scared." He coaxed, his hands opening to you. "Come with me, I'll explain everything if you just co-"

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your rejection stung, sure, he wasn't 'YOUR' Mark, but he was Mark. Was that not enough?

A frustration filled his veins quickly as he grabbed your wrist harshly, tugging you close and ignoring your noises of protest as you came in contact with his chest. "You're scared, I get it." His arm came back around your waist, holding you close. "But I'm not leaving you, not like last time."

"I'll never let you out of my sight ever again."

♡

No-goggles Invincible:

Mark never saw a person as blinding as you are, God, every album you release, you manage to become sparklier. And he would know because he's been following you for a while.

He abused his power to see you worldwide, meet 'n greet in France? Boom, first in line. Exclusive merch release with your album in Japan? He bought the first copy. Concert in Australia? No ticket needed when you're a super-powered alien.

He couldn't believe he was shaking your hand, his newly bought album on the table. "You're even prettier in person!" He grinned, your kind smile making his heart race. "I've been watching you for a while, y'know? Since your Heartthrob Cutie Era!"

"Whaaat?! Really?! That's so long ago! Thank you for your support!" He could die here and he'd be happy, you looked adorable in your newest era outfit, the theme was filled with candy, bright colors, swirls and bows, he could eat you up.

"Thanks for coming by the way! Who do I make this out to?" You held the sharpie in your hand, ready to sign as he restrained himself from telling you to just write that you love him.

"I wouldn't miss this for the end of the world." Mark sighed, glancing down at the album. "Mark, with a K, Grayson."

"To.. my... long-time fan, Mark Grayson!" You signed with practised finesse, his name written with a heart and a parasocial slogan of 'Thanks for the love!♡'

He wasn't getting a wink of sleep after getting home.

. . .

During the time where Invincible work drowned him, he fell behind in supporting you. Missed out on a few albums releases and exclusive releases, the obsession became more casual.

Though the memory of your beaming smile and warm greeting rushed back to him as he spotted you, not as shiny but still you, trying to sneak through the rubble, evacuating too late. He slowly hovered down to the ground behind you, eyes wide as a smile slowly stretched across his features.

"Holy. Shit." Crude, but what else would he say? It's his idol! You turned sharply with a gasp. "It's you! They got a version of you here too?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, frozen like a deer in headlights as this 'Mark' studied you, no goggles to hide his wandering eyes from taking in your entire form, he noted confusion.

"... hello? You forget your own career?" He did a gesture that was too cute for someone who was tearing apart the town and its civilians to be doing "'I'll steal all your hearts and more!', c'mon! That's you! Your whole... y'know, bit!"

You shook your head, cringing as he facepalmed. "Whatever, you're probably delirious. Amnesia or panic or whatever." He gestured for you to follow him, taking two steps away before hearing receding hurried ones, his head zipping around to see you trying to run.

"Hey! HEY! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" His foot pushed off the ground, flying in an instant to you and tackling you to the ground.

"Yeah! No dumbass bodyguards to keep you away from me, now!" He laughed breathlessly, excited to finally have you to himself, no security or anything to restrain him from talking to you too long.

"Let go!! Get off me!!" Your shouts were ignored as you clawed and shoved at him, palm connecting with his cheek and pushing him away he resisted and leaned closer to you.

"Ooh, fiesty thing! You're so cute!" He laughed as he bit into your palm, eliciting a scream from you as you harshly pulled your hand back. "I ruined this town enough, the others won't mind if I fuck around with you for a little."

"C'mere, why don't you give me one of your cute little poses?"

[ask-fun-facility]

THE FOREVER FOREST

Happy

The door was left propped open for the containment unit. It opening up to bright blue skys and rollling hills. Trees creating shade in random areas but never too thick. On the grass hill about a few meters away. The director lays staring up at the sky. White giant clouds slowly floating past, covering the land in soft shadows occasionally.

FelixVulpes

There's light padding heard as Pebble slowly walks over before stopping next to the director, her shadow falling across him, 'needed a break today?'

Happy

His horns were instead of over his eyes lazily were slid backwards. His gaze followed the shadow to a pebble. A small twinge of a smile on his lips. [I did, there are still too many things to do.] His hand moved to pat the grass next to him. [what about you?]

FelixVulpes

She sits down next to him, leaning back on her arms to look up at the sky sighing 'I was on a coffee hunt, Morphs assistant dropped off a new top record in the amount of files they can carry, I swear they hoard them until they run out of space instead of walking them down to me in manageable amounts. . . . what's had you overworked today?'

Happy

[its a fight for a budget every quarter. No matter how many things we nuetralize they are refusing to raise it to the amount ive suggested.] A sigh escapes from the directors mouth. [they do, thats why they now have an assistant. Hopefully this one lasts for a while. Hiring process had really turned into a bigger project than i thought. ] A cloud moved over the sun. [do you need any help with your archives?]

FelixVulpes

Pebble huffs out a laugh 'yeah that sounds about right, could always fudge it, say the robots need repairs that they don't really and put the money elsewhere, who's really going to come down here and check' She looks to the side at the director before fully lying down and committing to the work break, 'another one eh, want to place a bet on how long this one lasts? And I can handle the work, if you want to help to escape all the political crap though I'm sure I can find something to help'

Happy

[if they dont raise it how will we fund for a karoake machine] He paused then turned his head slightly before pushing himself somewhat up. [id like that, what would help?]

FelixVulpes

'You could do a bake sale' Pebs jokes laughing, before thinking for a moment, "Well you know I've been trying to digitise all the old files in my spare time, that's a never ending task I'd appreciate help on, I'm not a fan of this electrical filing even if it 'technically' is faster to search, I mean what was wrong with paper and a proper filling system!!" By the end of her rant she seems a little agitated but it's not a new complaint

Happy

[a bake sale.] the idea rolls in his head and he slowly slinks back down into the grass. [i dont know how to bake…or how to cook] Looking back into the sky. The giant cloud uncovered the sun. [I will send carrion, he will be able to help you. I don’t think its wrong, both filing types are just there to do a job. Save our research. May it be through fire or technical issues. Information is better received though for the mind to register when on paper. Having a physical copy creates the ability to receive information without the need of electrical power. It has stored information for decades beyond the humble machine.] He paused then slowly peaked at pebble. [but machine also goes clicky clacky and makes funny sounds.] he decided to cut his information short with the dull voice of a joke. (edited)

FelixVulpes

"I bet the others know how to bake, I've not tried it either though . . . .if we can get people to bake though we'd get to eat cakes, there's no downside" Pebble hums in acknowledgment as the director talks, "I understand it's uses, I just don't like it, also Rok keeps lying on my keyboard and I have to disturb him to use it" She stretches out before getting more comfortable in the sudden shade, "I might have a bit of a nap before I go get that coffee, the work isn't going anywhere, and at least Morphs lab won't send more today. You should do the same, I don't know the last time I saw you have a day off"

Happy

[I’ll ask them. You’re right I dont believe ive had a day off for a long while.] Even with holidays he still worked as the Director. [Maybe a nap would be optimal] his eyes blink before drooping close. [it is warm here.]

[onyxrosess]

Pain is My Hometown

vergil x reader [multi-chapter series]

Chapter IV: It's Too Late for Me Now

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV [you're here!] | Table of Contents

・warnings/tags: n/a

( cross-posted on ao3 )

Swinging the sheets off your body in an attempt to freeze yourself into waking up, mostly it worked. Dante’s bed was nicer than anticipated, likely due to him sleeping in his chair 90% of the time instead of the bed he owned. Regardless of how many times you’ve ‘accidentally’ spent the night at the shop, you never kept any clothes here, meaning you’d have to drive back to Fortuna to change clothes. Besides the heavy sigh that left your mouth, it was quiet and it wasn’t taken for granted, Kyrie’s and Nero’s house can get a little noisy unless it's 5 in the morning. Shuffling to the bathroom connected to Dante’s room, you addressed whatever was happening with your hair., scavenging for a brush to maybe tame the nest that was on your head.

After successfully making your hair look a little more presentable, you walked down the stairs, your eyes met with Dante leaning back in his chair, a magazine covering his eyes. You stepped around crunched up papers that littered the ground, standing next to Dante’s sleeping form. How does he not have back problems? Before you could give it much thought, you were reminded the man in front of you was not all man. Yet he acted with such ease that you wondered what happened to Vergil- why was he so…weird? You wished there was a nicer way to put it, but the things he’s done were of his own volition, no one else's. Your mind began to bubble up in anger once again, seething at your father. Heartless man. 

“Well good morning, didn’t take you for a stalker.”  The magazine that once covered Dante’s face was now slid down into his lap. His body remained motionless as he looked at you with a sly smile on his face. “I didn’t take you as a perv who stuffed his face in magazines all day.” Dante feigned hurt on his face, those puppy dog eyes don’t work. “Hey- you know I have bad luck with women.” “Is that what you tell yourself at night?” Dante playfully scoffs, shoving the paper back on the desk. His boots slid off the wooden surface, as you lifted yourself to sit on the desk. Silence took over the shop before it was quickly disrupted, “Y’know, I was thinking.” Oh god, Dante is thinking. You stifled a chuckle, trying to see what he was going to say before giving him shit. “Why didn’t you get into demon hunting with Nero?” 

The thought never crossed your mind really, when Nero was younger he was a little too cocky for his good. Your little exposure to demons before…whatever the hell happened in Fortuna, led you to just avoid them entirely. It’s not like hell gates of that magnitude would ever open again, hopefully anyway.  “That was Nero’s thing, plus I was recovering again.” You paused, letting out a breath before continuing, “And I’m just a regular human.” “Lady’s human and she does just fine.” Dante’s words became quieter, “Probably too well for her own good.” You couldn’t help but exhale a light laugh, Lady must have won their little bet the last time they were out. “Dante, you want me to believe Lady, who you’ve apparently known since you were 18 is the same age as you? She doesn’t look a day over 25- shit, I probably look older than her!” You did not want to point out your age, not that you were proud of the slowly appearing lines on your face, but at least you’ve lived. “Okay fine, I’m not sure if she’s fully human, her father was a nut job so I could only assume.” Dante crossed his arms over his chest, and for once he wasn’t wearing his red leather coat. The dark grey shirt rolled up at his elbows, the fabric fraying at the edges.

“Well, it seems like Lady and I have something in common.” Your attempt at a joke was met with a chuckle from Dante, he leaned forward in his seat, looking at a paper on his desk. He only skimmed over it before sighing, letting it fall back onto the desk.  “What's that?”  Dante looked at the paper again before closing his eyes in annoyance. “There’s a string of demon sightings, about 2 hours away from here. Likely a hell gate, which is beyond annoying.” You were puzzled, from what you knew, hell gates only appeared from human’s doings.  “I thought those only popped up due to humans.” Dante shook his head at your question, “Nope, but if it’s a demon opening it, that means there's a big guy guarding it.” Dante’s vocabulary switched like he was talking to a child, you suppose it’s easier for you to understand but it made you chuckle at his choice of words. So the ones in Fortuna when you met Dante must have been the synthetic ones. You tried to remember how Dante explained it to you in the moment but you were so shaken up you thought you were on something the way he was talking.

“A ‘ big guy ’- am I twelve Dante?” “Well you sometimes act-” “Don’t answer that.” You looked at him with a stern expression that could only be held up for so long before your face softened again. The two of you continued to reminisce on old times, frankly, they weren’t that long ago, but everything happened so quickly that it feels so long ago. It was close to seven years of knowing Dante, but a couple of those were taken from you due to some of the otherworldly events. You would never admit to Dante that you thought he was handsome when you first met, but now, things seem different. Whether he’s getting older or you both are- you can’t seem to bring yourself to walk that path anymore. Your friendship with Dante is one you hold close, and threatening to burn that bridge with a silly crush that you had years ago seemed illogical. 

You were reminded of Dante’s concern over his brother last night, and maybe you just wanted to add fuel to the fire that was hating Vergil’s guts, or you wanted to be right about him. Although you couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you ask about Vergil yesterday?”  You prepared yourself for a response that would make you feel justified in your hatred, “Well, he’s not the most… friendly , and I guess his attempts could be seen as off-putting.” Dante really knows how to not tell you exactly what was going on but sure, he’s not the most friendly. It left you just to reply with a small hum, you’ll find out more soon. Even if you had to beat it out of Vergil.

After some complaining about recent jobs being too boring, must he always find something to complain about? Even when they accidentally put an olive on his pizza he could easily pick off he has to complain, as if he was legally bound to complain about it, every time. Dante later departed with a grunt, saying how much of a pain in the ass going two hours out is, even though he can fly there, for free. You reminded him that he should be grateful he doesn’t have to deal with traffic. He responded with a nonchalant, ‘Yeah, yeah.’ You also left the shop back to Fortuna soon after, a change of clothes and a shower is in order.

Arriving back home, the van Nico and Nero took last night for the job was parked in front of the house, a loud clank came from the garage followed by Nico cursing. Thankfully they aren't dead, you sighed as you walked towards Nico. “Howdy.” She greeted you, but her attention was elsewhere tinkering on a new arm for Nero- like he still needed those.  “Hey, you staying out of trouble?” Nico playfully scoffed, “Never, you know me.” You smiled, “How did last night go?” Nico laughed before she could even give you an answer. “Nero got knocked around quite a bit, it made for the night's entertainment- he’s alright now he didn’t get hurt hurt, y’know?” Nico sputtered out her words after she told you Nero got injured, but her swift recovery followed. You brushed her off, Nero would be fine, he's an adult. No matter how many times you told yourself that you would always be worried when he got hurt. Nico continued on the mechanical arm as you excused yourself inside. Looking out the sliding door, the orphans splashed each other with water in an inflatable pool, you couldn’t help but smile. You had wished that was the life you had grown up with, but no jealousy filled you, just happiness that it was better for them.

Making your way to your room, you walked down the skinny hallway, about to pass Nero and Kyrie’s room when Nero appeared on the other side of the door. Nero looked as if he had the worst hangover and got beat to shit. Nero’s white hair was pointing in all different directions as scrapes and cuts littered his skin, but the gashes were already halfway healed from the looks of it.  “Nico told me it went well” Sarcasm leaked from your voice, as you held in a laugh, Nero did look a little miserable but you knew he would be fine. “Yeah, it went great .” Nero matched your voice, you could tell he didn’t want to admit that he had difficulty beating up a demon. He leaned against the door frame as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes. “What happened? Just too strong for you?” You jabbed him in the side lightly with your elbow. He barely moved, just rolled his eyes at you. “The fucker had these little…” He paused, searching for the words in his head, “Bugs, I don’t know, and they were everywhere and the more I killed them they doubled, it was so annoying.” “So you got beat up by bugs” “I never said that.”  Nero gave you the look that he was trying to save his ego, you can only imagine Nico’s hysterics yesterday. “Well I’m glad you’re okay- you just look like you had a wild night.” A smile crept on your face as you watched Nero’s face heat up just the slightest bit. It left as quickly as it came as he shoved your shoulder, walking out of the doorway. 

The day went on without too much drama, you accompanied Nico in her attempts to fix the radio in the van. You couldn’t help but chuckle every time she let out a string of curse words, like ‘fucknuts’ or ‘you mother shitter!’ Maybe it helped her focus. Scrubbing your body clean from grease, and washing your hair vigorously, it's the only way it stays clean. You stood in front of the mirror, analyzing your face, restraining yourself from picking anything and everything off of your skin. Glancing at the clock, it was only three in the afternoon, you really should socialize- outside of bars. That was enough convincing for you to go out, after getting dressed and ready to leave you picked open your wallet, you were a little richer than usual, weird. You dismissed it, putting the key into your ignition as you sped off into the road. 

Fortuna was quite busy today, the sidewalks were a little busier than usual, some of the individuals carried bags with various shop logos on them, and others had street food in their hands before stuffing their faces. You cruised down a street with many varying restaurants and business fronts, one caught your eye, there were around 20 boxes full of records, and you desperately needed new music to listen to at work, Dante hadn’t gotten a new record for far too long. You stopped and parked your bike on the side of the street as you wandered into the store, the cashier greeted you as you reciprocated the gesture. Drawn to the records you flipped through them, seeing covers you recognized, and some you didn’t. You went through maybe two or three boxes before the roar of an engine brought your attention to the street, an old bike tore through the streets, and the red paint started to chip at the corners, which looked very similar to Dante’s bike he’s abandoned over the years. A short black-haired woman sat ontop of it- Lady. You quickly abandoned your post at the record boxes and went outside, Lady’s face did not wear her normal expression, she was far too focused than usual. She stopped the bike in its tracks once she recognized your face and your accompanying bike.

“What are you doing out here?” You questioned her as you walked closer to her. “There's another hell gate that popped up in Red Grave, I was out here doing work before I realized.” Lady’s skin carried a light sheen of sweat, and maybe a few stains from demon guts. You weren’t sure how to respond other than ‘Go get 'em’ tiger!’ but it worried you that Lady was even breaking a sweat over it. “They are so annoying!” Lady groaned, before starting her engine again, “It’ll be fine, (Name). Nothing I can’t handle, I’ll call you when I’m done.”  “Y’know, Dante said the same thing about the one he was taking care of-” “There's another one?” You paused, you assumed she and Dante were on the same page or at least she knew about it, but Dante often didn’t think about telling people about his jobs unless someone was accompanying him or he was asked. “I mean, I’m not sure- Dante just mentioned that he had a job a couple hours out for a hell gate.” Lady let out another annoyed groan, “Okay well, thank you, I really gotta go.” You could barely respond before she drove away, you stood on the sidewalk, it had been a long time since you’d seen Lady even remotely worried about anything demon-related, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if she was concerned or annoyed. Your mind quickly wandered to Dante, if another hell gate popped up does that mean he got rid of the other one? Trying to soothe your worries by using the excuse that you have no idea about any of it, your knowledge of demons and hell was slim to none. Deciding to go home early, empty-handed. You weren’t gone longer than 30 minutes, your attempt to socialize was exceptionally short today. You pulled into the driveway, Nico seemed to be inside as the garage housed no life. Lifting your helmet off of your head, a faint crackling sound came from behind you, you turned around to see little sparks of blue seeming to form in the air. A deep blue smoke? What the fuck is that? The screen of smoke enlarged as a figure stepped out from it, a figure you recognised. One you wished you didn’t recognise, Vergil. His expression was plain as ever as you still sat on your bike, a little confused- a bit more than confused. He can just pop up anywhere, wherever he wants? You knew Dante could fly, and you weren’t sure why this came as a surprise to you. The door to inside Nero’s home opened as you followed the sound, Nero stepped down the stairs, walking towards you and Vergil. 

“What’s going on? Nero, you should not be going out right now, you’re still-” “I’m fine, (Name).” Nero’s voice was laced with a string of seriousness, something you weren’t familiar with, at least directed towards you. Vergil stood where he had popped up from his portal, rather you’re assuming that’s what it was. “I’m requesting Nero come with me to take care of a hell gate, he should learn how to properly deal with them.” Vergil’s words teetered on the edge of a scolding, your brows furrowed together, he has no room to be scolding Nero. You held your tongue as Nero did the same. Your words did not come easily to you, this feeling you get when you’re around Vergil was not one you liked, you felt so little compared to him. Not just in stature but status, it was suffocating and you hated it. It felt all too close to the suffocating nature of your ex-boyfriends and their tactics to belittle you.

“...be careful, Nero.” Your voice came out just above a squeak, you despised it. As if it was not in your control to speak up. Nero nodded and Vergil unsheathed his sword, as the same crackling blue sparked from his sword. He slashed the air with the blade, his movements direct and controlled. An identical deep blue screen opened in front of him, he turned his head towards Nero, silently motioning to step into the portal with him. Nero did not say anything to you, but a glance. You could not get comfort from it, the whole interaction was ominous and frankly frustrating because you had no idea what just transpired. They were gone just like that, the portal closed right after Nero stepped in, with no evidence that neither of them was ever here. You pulled your bike into the garage, a little more aggressively than normal. You pulled the keys from their spot in your bike, rushing through the house to your room, luckily Kyrie and Nico were preoccupied and did not see you come in. You escaped to your room, shutting the door and flopping onto your mattress.

You had to remind yourself to breathe, as annoying and frustrating that you could do nothing or that you didn’t know the whole story is, nothing you could do at this moment could change anything. You exhaled, carding your fingers through your hair to get them out of your face. Ever since Dante planted the question of why you never picked up devil hunting, it made you ever so conscious of your helplessness, you were weak. If a demon tried to kill you, you could do nothing. The thought only made you more frustrated, but to bring yourself to do anything about that fact was something you could decide later. Your body laid still, as your eyes stared into the ceiling of the room, and your thoughts spiralled in your mind. If there was an award for overthinking, you would have first place.

As always, thank you for reading! Maybe a separate Dante fic coming sometime soon…? (I'm rubbing my hands together deviously) -onyxroses Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon!)

[pearlescentparade]

I am personally terrified of commenting on any platform (+ this is my first time) so please on my hands and knees I don’t wanna get jumped I’ve got chocolate as a piece offering😃🍫🍫. I had this weird scenario in my head for WEEKS and it sounds cringe and childish but hear me out-

Does anyone remember the show odd squad aka my childhood😭😭 (basically its kids working in a secret organisation to solve weird/odd problems) this whole thing is based on one of the episodes. So reader works for this organisation and they got called to solve smt, they arrived and they seem to be outside a library, ghosdeeri’s library! (Idk how big it a but let’s just assume it is). 

A light glows behind a lamppost as reader walks out of it as if they had teleported, the light disappearing as they walk fully out. Traveling via the tubes never gets old huh? As reader walks a little further they seem to have found the people who had called them. 

“Good afternoon, what seems to be the problem?” Reader starts up the conversation first, secretly hoping to finish solving this case before their lunch break. 

“We thank you for your earliest arrival,” ghosdeeri responds before continuing, “there seems to be something odd happening in the library”

“How so?”

Lightblox points over to the window, a small surprise jolt comes from reader as they find out some of the library’s books came to life and are now flying, banging against the glass as if trying to escape. “..w-what happened?!” Reader composes themself eventually after the shock. “We d-don’t know either…t-they just started flying and attacking us..” lightblox responded in a soft nervous tone, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. 

Reader pondered as they let out a small sigh, “well, good news is I have the gadget to fix this,” they say as they pull out the flying-booknator, it looked similar to a gaming controller only with a few less buttons and a dial in the middle of it. 

“the only problem, I don’t know what setting I’ll need to put it to turn the books back to normal…was there anything unusual that happened before the books turned like this?”

“I don’t believe so” ghosdeeri chimed back in, “the three of us were trying to avoid getting injured by those..things”

“Wait..did you say 3?…but, there’s 2 of you…”

Cut to traffic in the family guy pose laying on the ground as the flying books surround him and poke and prod him as their way of ‘attacking’ (they really don’t do much tbh like the worst they can do is give you a paper cut💀🙏)

Sorry that it’s incomplete it’s 2 in the morning rn😭😭 let me know if u want me to complete this and I believe the actual odd squad episode that this was based on is ‘dawn of the read’ if anyone wants to check it out :>

-🍡

OOO ive never heard of this show, but the concept sounds interesting!! do keep working on it !! :]

[aphverse-confessions]

OK- I'm gonna be honest. I like MyStreet, but not as a show. More as a minecraft story series in general if that makes sense. (not comparing it to MCD in this bc its been waaay too long since ive watched MCD for me to actually write abt it like this)

srry if this is annoying lol, long post.

Some disclaimers!! A lot of these r assumptions btw! Pls do not take these things as 100% fact, this is just how i saw things/"theories". This is also not an attack on Jess, i dont have the authority to judge someone as a person and I dont claim to. these are very strictly my opinions on Mystreet, not Jess as a person. It's hard to take the early seasons very seriously considering its origins as essentially a tropey, slice-of-life version of MCD, and these tropes continue on throughout the series until (i can only assume) Jess went "oh, we're making this more serious, and if the series is more serious, these tropes (Travis being an anime perv, Katelyn being an anime tsundere, Nana's whole thing..) make certain characters unlikeable/weird/problematic/whatever else so we'll just write them out" (Travis confronting Katelyn, the whole Nana Ashida reveal).

While these are occasionally done well, to me it just seems like Jess trying to write out the tropey or bad things that came from the earliest versions of the characters without actually IRL addressing the initial issue with their design (with Nana even dating back as far as MCD, with her first appearance being 5 months before the the start of MyStreet. I'm counting the whole "Kawaii-chan" thing as problematic here bc to me it's.. weird.. but idk, im willing to be educated on that if im wrong!) maybe she doesnt NEED to address some of the character design choices irl but I feel like itd be better to clarify things (I could be wrong). There's a lot of earlier creative decisions (especially with things played as jokes) that don't help with the tone as the series became more and more serious, and even some things in those more serious seasons that were really questionable, and I often feel like I have to just decide which parts of certain episodes are canon or non canon because of things like that. Don't get me wrong, it's very good for something that started out with the technology that it did, but in my opinion it just doesn't really reach "show" quality to me. It leaves a lot to wish for. (I know that there are TV shows that have the same problems, but i wouldnt even bother watching them normally because they dont have the saving grace that is the fact that this is in Minecraft, a charming style of storytelling that kept me interested even when I had these major criticisms about the actual content of the story.) Anyways sorry for incoherent babbling! ^^; Just had to get that onto paper to see if I'm just being crazy or something. I know I might not be right about all (or even most) of the things I said here but thats just how it came across to me. Of course this might not fully convey what i mean to say or even say it in the right way, maybe eventually ill talk more abt this somewhere(I had other things I wanted to talk abt but was scared to) but im too nervous to say it without the safety of anonymity rn haha. I'm open to other opinions, learning, etc. especially if i said something in this post that was problematic or already disproven! /genuine A/N: srry abt forgetting that The Big Move came out before MyStreet (i never watched it unfortunately, probably wouldve mentioned it in the main part if I knew but I dont think it subtracts too much from what im trying to say) & for the overuse of the word problematic, I literally did not know how else to put it :,]

.

[astranauticus]

post mortem for my orv animatic bc i have lots of thoughts and yall are gonna hear all of them (that is a threat)

first is the obligatory special thanks/plagiarism declaration section but a lot of the shots in this are inspired by the original changgwi lyric video which like. please watch it there's a reason this song is a classic animatic song on bilibili like the music is good but the video definitely helped. also speaking of bilibili, special shoutout to this arknights chongyue animatic that introduced me to the song that will haunt the next 8 months of my life!

the original inspiration was the thought that the verse of the spirit telling the story of its own death felt very yjh coded but it took like another week of stewing on it to have the idea of using the final chorus for the dkos arc which was the moment i decided i have to actually make this thing

going strictly by when i started putting pen to paper (pencil to ipad screen? whatever) this took almost exactly 5 months since i created the first drafts in february but the first 3 months ish from february until may were also my school semester so. most of the progress (id say about >60%) was done in the last two months of me working on this every moment i wasnt at work (or playing project sekai, for some reason)

also! funny little detail but counting the drafts and some discarded frames my procreate stack for this thing has exactly 49 artworks in it! neat little easter egg i guess (yeah 51 wouldve been more fitting but whatever)

this fully slipped by both me (at 2am) and my friend whom i sent the finished version to (fighting the flu) but in the final edit i didn't actually include the second half of the last lyric?? it's 'i will take you to the mountain god' i apparently just wrote 'i will take you' and never finished the rest LMAO

speaking of the lyrics i dont speak korean and im not a huge fan of most english translations of this song that exists so on multiple occasions i was so tempted to just use the chinese cover someone on bilibili did because then i'd at least be confident i know where the fucking line breaks were (there's one line at the end where im pretty sure i didn't edit on the line breaks correctly but that was more of an intentional compromise because the timings would've been off otherwise. anyway) tbh the only reason i didnt do that is the atmosphere and delivery of the original song is. really unbeatable like the cover's also pretty good but it doesn't quite achieve the same effect

also speaking of things i fucked up im aware i drew sys in the wrong outfit for the dkos fight but like. ok full disclosure my orv reference folder is a complete mess (theres like 400+ images in there. for some reason) so on net ive gotten character outfits wrong while working on this thing like at least 3 times bc id just grab a random webtoon screenshot from my folder and go w it. it's just that by the time i realised i fucked up i'd already finished drawing all of sys's frames and i was too lazy to go back and change all of them LMAO

anyway yeah some other random things i wanted to whinge about:

there's a lot of effects i wanted to do that didn't quite come across due to. lack of skill/time/patience/all of the above but the one im really annoyed about is the yhk postchorus bit with the 3 circles bc. first off i think i drew those while halfway dozing off on the train to school once because uh. yeah

anyway poor drawing aside id really wanted to recreate the sort of. drawn-in effect on the circles and lines that the original lyric video had but i could NOT for the life of me figure out a way to execute that in capcut so. here we are (also you cant put transitions on overlays in capcut so that's why those also looked so bad. youre welcome)

honestly my timeline for this in capcut looks pretty ridiculous bc if you want to do word by word animations/effects you need to pay for the pro version so my workaround was just to have like five thousand text layers with 1-2 words on it each (do not recommend btw)

speaking of the text im a moron so i kinda forgot to account for the text when drawing frames and wow you can tell. yeah next time im just hand writing the text fuck this

and i have some more thoughts that are. mild to moderate webtoon spoilers so past this will be the spoiler warning line

__________________________________________________________

actually my original plan was to upload this the day dkos dies in the webtoon but a. i genuinely did think it was gonna be yesterday like i dont pay for the early access episodes so i was just kinda going off orvtwt LMAO b. i could feel myself burning out on this like the last few frames i drew for this were fucking dogshit so i figured either i finish it soon or i wont finish it at all

i will probably still draw something for dkos' death day though for those who celebrate (basically when i was thumbnailing for one of the frames in this i ended up with one that didnt fit the video aspect ratio at all but still looks pretty good so im promoting it to a full drawing. so look forward to that)

like for an idea of how fucking sick of this shit i was by like. last week pretty much like for the last few frames of the dkos fight i straight up forgot to draw dkos' wings and had to add them in halfway through editing last night. like that's how fucking out of it i was by then lmaoo

looking back its actually kinda funny cuz the whole put this up when dkos dies thing was my plan since february but i had literally no way of knowing when that would be especially since the webtoon stopped going with the novel chapter numbers exactly (i could.. guesstimate but my original estimation was in june so yknow. real useful) but like i can find evidence of me panicking about that deadline since may. why did i do that

given that deadline i knew i cant really include stuff from the novel past the dkos arc but man. the amount of times i wanted to use something from later (ESPECIALLY 1863 arc). i actually have another idea i want to test out thats like full epilogue spoilers partially because working on this for so long made me realise i really want to make more epilogue content <- what

yknow how i mentioned discarded frames yeah i had to draw dkos' death 3 times because the first two compositions just never quite panned out. i mean the current one is also pretty unreadable with the colour scheme but trust me the previous ones were way worse christ alive

[feralkwe]

ship ask game. pre-relationship 5, general 10 and 12, + 7 and 10 for domestic? pick whatever ship you want lol

so i was gonna do a different ship, but you have an elidibus avatar, i have an elidibus avatar. let's not be coy. you are all gonna unfollow me if i don't get other interests soon.

let's go!

I - 5: what would their lives be like if they had never met?

this one is very funny to me, given that he's an essential part of the plot on at least three occasions and she functions to stop him in it. i imagine if they hadn't met, there wouldn't be much world left. tho, idk maybe she'd have survived it all and come out the other side of all the rejoinings fully intact. huh. wow. i have to think on that one a bit. ope.

II - 10: What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

oh i love this one. idk who would ever sit and draw all the parallels between the wol and elidibus. that certainly could not be me. i would never think about the fact that they both consider their duty to the world the top priority even over the personal self. i absolutely spent zero hours thinking about how they both love the world enough to sacrifice everything to save it. and, if i'm honest, i've never noticed that they're both a little obsessed with one another over the course of their bizarre twists of fate.

i like to think meeting the wol in the past influenced elidibus as he went forward as warrior of light. kit certainly pressed onward to see the world saved in part because she knew what he sacrificed to give her that chance. i also h/c that kit being a warrior inspired him in his paladin form, but you're not here for my silly lore headcanons. i also think his choice to possess ardbert was strategic as part of that obsession.

for kit's part, she never really recovered from what she had to do in sos, which is a nice paper cut that pandae poured lemon juice all over.

II - 12: do they hide anything from each other, big or small?

before setting off to elpis, elidibus warned her that she could not use these little jaunts through time to change the events of the past or influence the future. so obviously when they meet for pandae, she doesn't tell him what she knows. right or wrong, it is a choice she made out of what she saw as a duty to the world. that's okay lol because he totally thought she believed his ruse too, right? those are equal things, for sure! so initially, yes, they were both keeping pretty big secrets. arguably hers is much worse.

i think in a world where they were allowed to be together that honesty would be a big thing. kit dislikes lies, and lying seems counter to the fundamentals of who themis/elidibus is. they will both do so out of necessity, but if we're dealing with a world that isn't tearing them apart and making them mortal enemies, no, i don't think they would hide anything from one another.

IV - 7: who worries the most?

oh, i'm pretty sure this yoke is bore evenly. it's just who they both are, imo. my god, will someone invent therapy?

IV - 10: who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

well that is a disgustingly cute question that is gonna take me back to that 'in perfect world where they actually get to be together' place. my initial gut was to say kit, because elidibus is too duty-bound, but uhhhh i established in fic that he considers her the one exception to always putting his duty first. him. it would be him. "just five more minutes to cuddle, pls. no, the convocation won't miss me. it's fine. i can be late. only nabriales will complain. he can go fuck himself."

i'm so cringe. please take me out back and shoot me.

thanks for the ask! i'm almost sorry i'm a one-trick pony right now. almost.

ship ask game questions here.

[magickmarie]

I HAD A LUCID DREAM LAST NIGHT WOO i like never lucid dream its been so long since i did (ironic considering i feel so closely attached to lord morpheus but whatever) it was SO brief but im just so happy because i realized i was dreaming at all and right when i started a new method of manifestation and that was one of them and it worked??? the first night?? it was also partially an unintentional wbtb (i wake up in random intervals in the morning often) but its the first time something has come from it

droning about it below the cut and will share what im doing for manifestation at the end ❤️

i first had the actual just dream and then woke up and fell back into the dream but it like restarted. i was in the car with my family and we were driving down this flooded road and our car was maybe 1/4 under the water. i realized i was dreaming almost immediately but right as i did, our car started sputtering more and getting deeper in the water and it was getting closer to the slope in the road so mentally i was like

no thanks!

ive had underwater dreams before and half the time my physical body actually starts holding its breath so i wasnt really wanting to deal with that. it was also superrr dim and eerie-ish so i was a bit put off.

i closed my eyes and started repeating to myself “its just a dream, wake up” but when i started doing that, i started experiencing more sensory-wise: could see the headlights dimly thru my closed eyes blinking in and out, could hear the horns and alarms going off like crazy, and could feel the spray of water as it started getting thru itty bitty cracks in the windows. i woke up pretty quick because my little mantra also got more desperate 😭

i cant remember if i went back to sleep immediately or realized i had a lucid dream till later, but when i fell back asleep and had another dream, the lucidity kind of lingered but not fully. i only sort of manipulated things and it was one of those things where i remember thinking “im just dreaming” but also not fully realizing it. at some point one of my dream characters was very snarky about me lucid dreaming and was def annoyed by it 💀 what is with dream characters and reacting so weird to lucid dreams

manifestation method!

honestly super simple, its just sigils and my own version of a wish jar. it was more the wish jar for this one supplemented by a sigil drawn on my wrist for “confidence in success”.

the wish jar is this little woven chest i found while antique shopping one time and i put some crystals in it (clear quartz, obsidian, citrine, selenite) and on the inside of the lid i have the phrase “every wish i cast is destined to be truth” taped to it. i have a blue pen dedicated to writing my wishes on little slivers of paper that i fold up and put in there, and then i kinda just let myself forget about it. i plan on routinely checking my wishes and rereading them though (how routinely, not sure)

the wish for lucid dreaming was “reality shifting, lucid dreaming, and astral projection are as easy as breathing” and i know everyone hates that phrase but i like it as an affirmation more than advice

[ihaveneverbeentothemoon]

bro 😻

its actually so insane how i used to be so obsessed w the shining. like looking back on all that i was litereally going crazy--and like my interests/phases only last like a week or so but damn that one alsted like 2 months or smth, i thought it would never end so i was kinda surprise when i watched it for like the 5th time or something and i went 'damn...this is getting kinda old'

i genuinely felt sad tho. it always feels kinda sad falling out of a phase/interest kinda thing, especially one youve liked for a while. like with the shining its fine bc i know i still like it but it was just a crazy 2 month-phase, now i still like it but like, in a normal, non-crazed kinda way lmao, like im not silently talking to myself in my head abt the shining and begging for someone, anyone to talk to me abt the shining, i was legit on the brink of madness, i couldt contain myself thats how much i loved it lmao

anyway. for now its not compeltley lost, i still do like it, but idk, the last time i watched it i could jsut tell i wasnt as interested as the previous times, and thats when i was like 'damn it, this is it ig' and it was super sad. it felt like a big loss, but then again im happy i got out of it, like i said. maybe it was for the better! now i gotta find smth else to occupy me and my attention for the next couple of weeks or ill go insane!!!

this whole the shining phase ended like 2 or 3 months ago or smth. now im jsut mucking around. ive been watching th eoffice over and over again bc yeah i do love it but liek theres literally nothing else to occupy my attention with. and i feel kinda bad saying that, like i feel stupid saying i need smth to constantly be keeping my attention or like keeping me entertained, but like otherwise i just feel like i have no meaning or purpose or anything to keep me going, and i need smth! im not depressed or anything tho i swear 🙏

anyway I LOVE THE CATCHER IN THE RYE!!!! in history today my favourite book of all time was like very briefly mentioned and i wanted to explode when i saw it, i so badly wanted to mention it but there was no way id do it in front of anyone so yeah. holden caulfield is fr me, or he was most like year last year when i was like so alone at school and hated everybody. i still dont like most people but its not as bad as it used to be

anyway i feel really stupid writing this whole thing, idkw, but yeah, for now idk what ill do. i am going in an out of different writing projects/little stories that ive made up but i can never commit to just one thing. i am going back to my main project tho, and im really happy for once because im just writing. im not worrying about what other people might think (even tho i literally dont show it to anyone i legit just write for myself i jsut get rlly stupid sometimes,) im honestly just having fun and writing what i like, and i think thats what writings all about. its not about proving yourself to anyone or trying to impress anyone, or trying to make yourself seem all big and idk intellectual and all smartsy fartsy and stuff. its litereally just to express yourself and have fun and put all your amazing ideas down onto paper, i love writing so much, especially when i dont convince myself that my writing is shit and tell myself that it's not good enough and if people were to see it they wouldnt be as impressed as i want them to be

but anyways, thats all! its been a while since ive been on here so yeah. i know no one relaly sees these but theyre still fun to write. i just like expressing myself, i feel like im honestly kind of better off if no one sees these. like it would be nice to have like a tiny little community or some friends on here or smth since tbh even tho ive been on here for like a year and a half i still dont rlly fully understand how this app works </3 im just here for fun! so anyway

thats all folks! ski you later everybody! 😼

(sidenote, yes ik i dont know how to spell 'literally' i keep messing it up😻)

[mostlymalena]

June 14th 2024 6:12pm

Hello friends and fans and family and foe.

This will be an update about Ava so big ole post. I'll try my best to tell this in an entertaining way. I'll write it like I expereinced it.

I met Ava back in 2021 because her roommate and best friend at the time, Becca, had just begun dating Josh. Yes, Josh as in best friends and roommates AND bandmate of Hugh who was my boyfriend at the time. When I find out Hugh cheated on me I get told that him and Ava are snapchatting a lot and Ava tells me that Hugh wants her and wants to hookup but she rejected him bc she is on my side. Anyways when I was going through the court stuff with Hugh because I posted about what he put me through and he said "hey not fair!", she took their side (this comes back around later I promise) and posted about me on her social media calling me a liar and saying I was never abused blah blah. Good for her for being loyal.

Fast forward to 2023, she see's me at blue post bc of course you would and comes up to me and profusely apologizes for taking their side and that she believed me this whole time and I tell her its chill no big deal and she then post me on her story which ruffles some feathers but I don't really care bc when do I ever.

Anyways, she is dating this girl Paige at the time (still 2023) and Paige's father get's really really sick. When he is close to passing away Ava's father very suddenly dies and it's very very shocking for her and her family. So of course Ava is destroyed and a lot of her friends rally to support her. Now I'm not sure when but close to when her dad died Paige cheats on Ava so we all once again rally for Ava and it's fuck Paige. Paige's father dies during this as well. Lot's of emotions.

During this time me and Ava are getting closer - I bond with her over losing a parent as I have lost my mother. Also to note I never fully attach to Ava bc she is well, she was just always in some kind of tizzy with someone and it seems to never be her fault. I mean something was ALWAYS happening to her.

Near thanksgiving time she tells me and everyone that her mother has committed suicide. Now this is when her and I really bond because I lost Emma 6 months prior to just that and I also lost my mother. So! Her and I grow closer and start hanging out outside of just seeing each other at the bars. No one had any reason to not believe her bc who tf would lie about that!! She also reached out for support several times over her father passing. During thanksgiving she even went home and posted pics of her mom's house and captioned it with stuff like "it looks the exact same since she left". She also got support about the struggle of having to clean her parents house out and how she is avoiding it bc its too hard.

Fast forward to when Grace and I start talking again. Grace and Ava had already been friends before G and I reconnected and Ava had made it clear in more than one way that she was interested in more than friends with Grace. Obvi this was brought up when G and I reconnected but Ava had made SURE to make it clear with me that she knows me and G are together and she would never pursue. Grace also sent Ava a very brute and CLEAR text which I READ MYSELF that she ONLY sees ava as a friend and there will never be anything more than friendship between them. Ava was asking Grace to hang out so much that Grace got a weird feeling and didnt wanna lead ava one or make things unclear. Ava also says that Paige is always hitting her up and showing up to her house and it's just played off as ex girlfriend drama. Wait I have a screenshot I know it

Around this time Ava is also served with a FUCKING RESTRAINING ORDER from Paige. And makes a complete joke about it. Won't show anyone the papers. Now IVE BEEN THROUGH THIS!!! So I fucking tell her what to do, like go to court and provide evidence that you are not stalking her. She does not go to court. So if you don't show up to defend yourself.. the restraining order is automatically granted. Ava "not knowing this" texts Paige on the year anniversary of her father's death and Paige calls the cops on Ava for breaking the restraining order. Ava is ARRESTED and goes to JAIL. She calls Reese (her best friend) to bail her out and Reese gets a bondsman and pays for Ava to get out. We feel bad bc Ava is like "I don't have parents to bail me out"," I don't have parents to teach me how to be an adult". so like duh she is right.

Now court is set for a couple weeks later because Ava has to see if she is going to go to actual jail for a couple months for breaking the restringing order. She hires a lawyer and me, Reese, grace, and a couple other friends go to the court room with her to support her. This happens the DAY AFTER I GET HOME FROM A TEN DAY TRIP IN ITALY. Reminder Grace and I broke up for a solid 5 days before a couple days into my Italy trip. Well Ava helped her fucking self to try and get with Grace while I was in Italy (grace rejected her) but was texting me she missed me while I was gone and was hoping I had a good trip yada yada. So already my hackles were fucking raised. I mean all the while I had a sense that Ava wanted to fuck Grace which I have expressed to Grace before lmao.

Back to all of us sitting in court:

Paige signs a paper from Ava's lawyer dismissing the call and whatever so Ava does not have to go to jail. We all celebrate and Grace post something about Ava on her story. Some girl who is Paige's friend slides up and says "If you knew the whole story you would not be supporting Ava. Ask her about her dead mom".

Now Grace and I don't know what to do with that info but we kinda decide to keep Ava at arm's length for now. She also was just always chaotic and being crazy and what not. She gets fired for picking fights with some girl at her work two days after the court win and I tell her maybe me her and Reese should sit down and make a plan for her life to get her back on track. All she does is smoke weed and get fucked up on the weekends. May 26th 2024 I realize I have not heard from her since the night before. I check her local and it's off and call and text her. No answer. I start freaking out. THEN. I get this TEXT. From a number I dont know and it's green.

So I freak the fuck out. I call Reese and we decide to go to her apartment. The door is unlocked and she isnt home but her cat is. We call the local hospitals admission offices and check if she has been admitted. Nothing.

Ava finally calls Reese and tells us she had bad thoughts and checked herself into the hospital the night before. We are all relieved but also upset she didnt text anyone at all. We tell her about the random number and she loses it and gets so upset. Telling me she is so sorry. Here are some text from that convo:

This random number starts texting Gracie and Ava's other friends terrible things like I wish she had died and shit like that. So we are all reeling from that and worried and shit. Ava and Jo graduate college so we go downtown and celebrate. Ava wears her cap and gown and seems happy.

Fast forward to June 2nd 2024. I get a call from Reese 1 hour before I'm set to pick up Ava for a Pride event at Hi-Wire.

Reese tells me a couple days prior they went to Brunch (her and Ava) to a spot where Ava wanted to go bc she knew a waitress there. Well they eat and another waitress recognizes Ava bc they know or are friends with Paige and tells Ava's waitress that Ava lied about her mom killing herself. From what I remember this waitress straight up asked Ava why people are saying she lied about it and Ava blames it on Paige trying to cause drama and shit.

Well Reese being the smartest bitch on the planet looks into it. Cannot find an obituary for Ava's mom OR dad. What does she find: HER MOTHERS INSTAGRAM. Which has a RECENT POST. AS IN 3 DAYS RECENT. Her mother is very much alive and well and paints and sells antiques. Reese and I lose it. Ethan is with me when I get all this info and me and Ethan look into it bc Reese and now I don't believe her father is dead either. Time is up, so I pick up Ava and pretend all is well and we go to Pride. Ava tells me Reese is mad at her and she thinks it's bc of some drama at her old job blah blah. I keep quiet bc I know lmao.

That night I tell the jester's chat (all my friends) and Adam being a sleuth. FINDS AVA'S DAD. Ava's dad who is also alive and well is using his retirement to be the CEO of a non-profit that builds homes for unhoused people and gets them back on their feet. So I tell Reese all this and Reese and I decide that I'm going to call and confront Ava about it all. So I do. Ava does not answer and her local is off and she wont answer texts for a long time. I get nervous she offed herself again so I do a wellness check on her. She texts me after the cops leave her house and I told her we need to talk ASAP. She calls me. And I record the convo. You can listen below just wait about 20 seconds after you click play and you will hear me say hello.

Anyways. She admits her mother is alive but insist her father is dead. bc of this I decide to post publicly and here is why:

I know Ava very well and she manipulates situations and so I wanted to get ahead of this before she tried to tell people I was a liar and crazy

Ava lied to SO MANY PEOPLE SO MANY. I feel like lies to this degree that led to people giving her money, opening up about their trauma, giving her breaks, need to be exposed.

I have no idea how she would react to this so really I just wanted to make sure Reese and I's story was accurately portrayed which is why this blog post is needed for my sanity.

I posted it on my story and got a slew of DM's of course. I answered everyone's questions and sent my evidence to those who asked.

Reese and I don't want Ava to kill herself bc she goes ghost so I call Ava's mother whose phone number is attached to her insta and record that convo as well. I just tell her mother what has happened and that Ava will need a lot of support right now. She tells me her father is alive and they are still happily married. Ava's mother told me that Claire and Paige called her the day before and that it was not a good convo but thats all the details I got from that bc it was not my place to ask.

After posting I got a call from a girl, who legit 3 years ago copied my heart sleeve as a half sleeve and I told her that wasnt chill and that was legit it. I have not thought of her since then and never spoke about her lmao. Well she has been wanting to reach out to me and apologize for how she handled the situation and ava told her not to reach out to me.

I called her back and she told me more details and also told me about how she told her that she is just my friend bc of my "social status" in wilmy whatever the fuck that means and that she never believed me about the Freedrink/Hugh stuff. AND GET THIS LMAO. Also told me that Ava is OBSESSED WITH MY GIRLFRIEND and was constantly telling her that Grace always asks to hangout and that grace is obsseseedd with her and that Ava is just waiting for us to break up so Ava gets her chance and would constantly talk about me and Paige whenever they hung out. Me and this girl are super chill now.

I called and told Reese this and Reese confirmed that Ava also told her she never believed my Freedrinks stuff and that Ava was constantly talking about Grace and wanting her. Claiming all these people including my fucking girlfriend are obsessed with her (her as in Ava)

I got a bout 104723502358 dms about all the same stuff. Paige figured out Ava was lying and thats why she got a restraining order and so I do want to publicly apologize for being on the wrong side of the court room. That was fucked up and I was wrong. 

Ava's mother also told me that AVA DID NOT GRADUATE COLLEGE LMAO. That she has to take summer classes and maybe some more next semester. SO SHE FAKED GRADUATING COLLEGE.

Ava reactivated her insta recently, blocked me instantly, didnt block MY GIRLFRIEND and posted on her close friends that she added Grace to and said "wilmy is full of lying bitches". So now here it is all laid out. 

The End. 

[tonydaddingham]

really, really good points!!! i will however let my absolute bias where aziraphale is concerned rear its ugly head though, in that whilst im 100% in agreement with you about how crowley perceived what aziraphale offered and said, my view is that aziraphale's motivation is a little more deep-seated that in being aligned with heaven/wanting to be part of the hive again.

(shoving under a cut because woo it's about to get lengthy)

i completely agree that aziraphale should be a little more intuitive than he currently displays re: crowley's trauma from the fall. whilst crowley has never told him, and puts on a 6000-year old swagger to paper over the gaping cracks that formed in him because of it, aziraphale is not stupid, and should be able to make an inference. he should know crowley better than that, be able to see beyond the walls crowley put up.

but at the same time, i know i have certainly known people that had certain triggers from deep trauma, even known people for a long time who have had History, and i've inadvertently glossed over what might trigger them or hurt them, because i just didn't know the full facts. these people didn't owe me their history, not at all, but even when ive previously gotten the impression there is a Thing going on, without knowing the full truth i couldnt entirely avoid hurting them by mistake.

and crowley doesn't necessarily owe aziraphale anything, but after all this time? i would have thought he could trust aziraphale with it. maybe thats just speaks to how immeasurably painful and vulnerable it was for crowley - in fact, definitely does! but in the context of the Domestic, aziraphale knows that crowley is a Good Person. he knows crowley was wronged (as far as the narrative has told us and him about why he fell) in the fall, for a minor infraction (if it's even justifiably an infraction in the first place!... and also if it's even true but that's a different story).

so, to my interpretation, the offer of restoration in aziraphale's mind is that it is an abstract (or from god?) apology to crowley, the gesture of righting that wrong and owning the fault, and giving crowley the position to do Good so noone has to ever suffer as he, they together, and others have. crowley is a good person, already halfway there, so why not just take the title and status that would allow him to practice it in absolute? they could do so much Good together.

and besides - wouldn't this mean they could exercise that good in a way that meant they never have to run? never have to escape anywhere in shame, never have to fear anything or anyone, never have to bury themselves and what they feel, because not only is aziraphale planning to return to heaven, but return as Supreme Archangel; noone would ever dare to question him and crowley! i think that's, in aziraphale's mind, ultimate safety and freedom, however naive in the long term.

i don't think, at this point, aziraphale feels guilty or ashamed of being in love with a demon - we'd probably see a lot more of the hesitancy of s1 in his behaviour, i think, if he was; instead, the man is obsessed with him in s2. like, besotted with crowley exactly as he is before the offer of restoration was ever on the table. i think he's fully embraced loving crowley as crowley - neither an angel or a demon - and ill discuss this here*. but this where i consider "nothing lasts forever" to come in - aziraphale saying that he doesn't care if the world disintegrates, as long as he and crowley remain that's all that matters (and again - crowley understandably does hear that at all).

in terms of vulnerability: im going to be a little ignorant and ask where you see crowley be vulnerable in the series other than in ep6? (genuine q, because im happy to be proven wrong!) because to me all i see is crowley hovering in the metaphorical doorway; aziraphale has been very forward (for him) this season in how he declares their togetherness at the very least, exception being his denial to gabriel in ep1 (but im mindful to chalk that up to it being before all the events of s1 where aziraphale let's himself fully fall). this is probably because crowley's not taking up aziraphale's more subtle cues, doesn't notice the glances and particular 'us' phraseology that aziraphale adopts, and thinks aziraphale is still himself a few steps behind, rather than ahead.

but all the conversations re: "you two a couple? you should talk more, are you treating him right?" has all been involving crowley... for once, it's aziraphale that's maybe gone a bit too fast and crowley is scrambling to catch up, and he does in true whiplash-inducing crowley fashion in ep6, but then of course aziraphale had to mete out the death blow of the restoration offer etc etc. crowley does lead that scene in terms of vulnerability, but was it all too late? possibly.

aziraphale learns a lot from the minisode experiences, but i similarly think they regress him/hold him back massively. he learns that things are not always black and white, that who and what he thinks should be good is sometimes bad, and who and what he sees as bad is sometimes good. that's indisputable, it's a massive shift in his mentality and perception of morality. however (and i discussed this at length here - gets a bit philosophical so fair warning for pretentious crap) i think aziraphale still struggles with his fear and love for god, her ineffability, and the exactness of her power. that's the lesson, as concerns angels-heaven-god, that he still has yet to learn and challenge.

ultimately by this point i don't think aziraphale has any issue with differentiating with Good as an institution, and Good as a core, innate trait and belief. aziraphale still believes in good as a concept, and wants to embody it and bring it back fully to heaven as it was originally intended, but i think he's fully cognizant by s2 that angels and heaven are not wholly good in and of themselves.

rot has set in, and it has led to a heaven and angelic host that doesn't align with his beliefs about what Good should be. this to me is what he's saying to crowley; that heaven as a concept was always intended to be good and is good by her design (again, i don't think he's gotten to the final boss battle of fully, wholeheartedly questioning god yet) but the institution itself has become the problem, and that's what you and i could fix together. when aziraphale says "youre (hell, crowley) are the bad guys", i don't think that he means it in a discriminatory manner, marking crowley as lesser than; but that crowley is a demon - a fact - but also a Good Person, so why would he ever want to take their offer? and why therefore would he not take this offer of rejoining heaven?

im not however (despite having spent all this post defending aziraphale) dismissing at all how crowley interprets what aziraphale is saying. it is completely understandable how crowley reads this all, but i think that its easy to accept crowley's interpretation as fact because he is the party probably in the most pain. i totally get that, and his reaction is so valid because of it.

but my last point joins on from this exact thing; i don't think crowley knows aziraphale as well as he likes to think... or rather, he thinks he knows aziraphale but out of excitement for aziraphale being an imperfect angel, someone like him, he somewhat dismisses some of the key principles of aziraphale's character. the whole Good thing ive already waxed lyrical about - but i think he doesn't quite see aziraphale's own trauma for what it truly is.

arguably (and this will sound fairly reductive of him), crowley had mercy in the fall. he was cast out, and whilst that caused unimaginable agony and disconnect, he knew where he stood. aziraphale spent thousands of years being an outsider, looked down on and brushed off as inconsequential as a result of having the same trait as crowley - occupying the in-between. i could imagine that aziraphale therefore has consistently felt that whatever he does, he is not wholly Enough to be loved by heaven, by other angels, or even by god. so he turns to crowley who, regardless of it being borne out of love or friendship, has always seemed to accept him, taught him more on how to live in, and see, the grey, and never made him feel lesser than for being in the in-between; crowley lives there too.

(further read if interested: first section)

so when aziraphale shows to crowley why he wants to rebuild heaven, "I can make a difference", and crowley rejects that, from aziraphale's perspective thats a massive betrayal. he thought that if anyone would get this, if anyone knew him completely, it was crowley.

that aziraphale - standing in front of him and offering all of him - would be enough for crowley to set aside his pain, hatred, and resentment (that aziraphale still doesn't know or understand the full scope of, admittedly, and therefore why he's asking something practically impossible for crowley to do) and put aziraphale first... to want to be with him in whatever form that takes. this, rebuilding heaven, is another chapter in aziraphale's forever, and crowley stopped at the end of the last one and closed the book.

this to me is summed up (and sums up the whole misunderstanding that was the Domestic) in "i don't think you understand what im offering you". aziraphale is of course potentially talking about being restored and rebuilding heaven, and crowley is definitely on that wavelength in his response, but i think aziraphale is also (if not more) literally saying, "this is me, this is who I am, and i would give it all to you, you can have me but you have to accept all of me and why i need to do this".

crowley doesn't hear that (fair - god i wish these boys would just speak in plain words for once), and from aziraphale's perspective, crowley essentially says 'yeah i love you, but not that much. i love the you that would fit in with what i want, i don't love the things about you that doesnt'. which to me, explains this reaction below - aziraphale accepting that crowley maybe doesn't want him as much as he thought he did, or loved a version of him that doesn't exist:

then follows the temptation etc ive already mentioned ✨

thesherrinfordfacility​:

vaguelyxdownwards​:

thesherrinfordfacility​:

regardless of where one falls on the argument of whether aziraphale was or wasnt in the right in this scene, he has just in his own way been rejected; he wants to go to heaven to fulfil a higher, altruistic purpose, but was only ever intending to with crowley by his side. crowley in his own way has just rejected that, for understandable reasons, and could be interpreted as having told aziraphale that he wants him but only if aziraphale denies the part of him that doesn’t fit what crowley wants. (it’s all more nuanced than that, but as a summary).

that’s by the by, but we do know the crowley is able to tempt aziraphale - s2 with food, and s1 with adam/warlock - and aziraphale is at least on some level aware of it. so after they argue, and aziraphale looks away (bearing mind the “no nightingales” line which i take to mean as crowley saying “the damage is done, we’re over”, and last parting shot of “idiot”), crowley then strides over and kisses him.

it might not be right way to see it, but i did see it as its own brand of manipulation, temptation. crowley is evidently so overcome with his own emotion and desperation, and this is his last ditch attempt to get aziraphale to stay. and i think aziraphale realises it; he immediately reacts with ‘what are you doing’ frozen response.

then he succumbs to it, for a split second, because it is ultimately what he wants. succumbs to the temptation in a very unangelic way - awful when you consider what they’ve just argued about. but then aziraphale shakes himself out of it, and pushes crowley away, which says to me that he’s aware that crowley has just used his ultimate weapon; (inadvertently?) manipulated aziraphale’s own feelings for him and used them against him to try and get aziraphale to stay, in so doing he tried to tempt aziraphale into denying that part of who he is. even possibly intimating that crowley doesn’t want aziraphale unless he lets go of this part of who he is.

which is then where the I Forgive You comes in; personally, i read this as aziraphale benevolently forgiving crowley for what he just did, trying to manipulate him the same way everyone else does (ironic given metatron role in this), and also telling crowley in a language that only they understand that he knows what crowley just did, and that it hurt.

NEVER feel encumbered from sharing and interacting with me as long as it’s respectful (which it was)! 

Okay this nterpretation makes the most sense of all that I’ve received, to me at least. I have little to add because I appreciate the nuance and the recognition of both characters’ process of core belief, thought, and action. 

well you might soon regret that when i point out the following that ive noticed and will proceed to inflict maximum level damage; we know that michael sheen is the undisputed god of micro-expressions, right? well let’s cycle through the immediate aftermath of the Domestic once crowley has left:

that last one? thats just abject rage to me. imo he cycled through “oh my god he’s left, he’s actually left, we are never going to come back from this”, to “well that hurts like hell, he just tried to tempt me, he’s in the wrong, and he gets to storm out?”, to “he actually kissed me?”, to “and i liked it?”, to “i nearly succumbed to it, his temptation, he’s a bastard for trying it”, to lastly “im not good enough for him to stay, but i know i have more value than that.”

okay so yeah the above is very subjective but regardless those faces were a Choice. and whilst we know in the next bit of the scene that aziraphale wavers dramatically, he does, like, regain composure and almost again goes through the same inner monologue before he ultimately plasters on the smile again and follows the metatron out… and does it again just before he gets in the lift… and again in the lift. my silly angel is swinging on a pendulum between grovelling at crowley’s feet, and dedicating himself to proving crowley wrong. and given all of the above, i think it’s fair that he chose what he did!✨

I think this is a really solid observation, although I’d like to add a slight counter-consideration that centers on how SHAME motivates both of these characters.  

I give Aziraphale a BIT less of a pass for his choice, given the context of the Job and starving young bodysnatchers memories, and even more for the general fact that Crowley has been so vulnerable (for Crowley) lately with Aziraphale, and given him ample opportunity to know the deeper pain that comes from being cast out of the company of people you care about….for doing little more than asking God (or, more likely, God’s so-called representatives, the Metatron and Archangels) important questions.  Has he told him about this experience outright? No, but I just can’t believe someone as smart and emotionally intuitive as Aziraphale really doesn’t recognize that red button in Crowley at all.��

Aziraphale has to engage in cognitive dissonance to believe that keeping in line with the Heavenly Host is the moral high ground; we see Crowley repeatedly, patiently (if a little smugly), trying to get him to realize that this view is reductive and dangerous, but he can’t and won’t listen, to the extent that he has to minimize the importance of their relationship as it currently stands (“nothing lasts forever”).  And his point of view is understandable and what he wants to do is not that bad, until one acknowledges (as he cannot, in order to be “right”) that Crowley’s whole being pivots around eons of sorrow and rage at being rejected for existing: genuinely as himself. Crowley embraces being a demon in part to defy that shame. But the important point is that, to ask Crowley to become an angel again is tantamount to saying, “My love for you is henceforth conditional. You have to become like me for me to feel morally clean being publicly attached to you.”   To Crowley, then, the person Crowley loves most has effectively re-enacted the trauma of getting cast out of Heaven. 

 Did Aziraphale mean for Crowley to read it this way? No, not consciously at least, but it really, REALLY sucks. And Crowley knows how much Aziraphale wants to fit in with the “good guys,” so he reads more hurt into the whole idea or being reinstated as an angel than is intended. Ironically, it’s how well Crowley knows Aziraphale that escalates their fight.  Meanwhile, Aziraphale puts on blinders and doubles down because if Crowley would just give in and be an angel again, Aziraphale could bury his guilt over falling in love with the “enemy.” He could be both of the selves he wants to be: an exemplary angel, AND Crowley’s lover. 

This may be my OWN personal bias showing, as a university educator who has been dealing with a largely white and underprivileged social demographic, whom I must constantly try to usher in the direction of feeling compassion for queer and BIPOC people and the issues they face (I teach a course on how American media shapes our understanding of American identity, so we deal with a lot of sticky issues in the classroom).  Basically, we do a LOT of work on preconceptions and on assuming your version of events is the universally correct one. 

 I know Aziraphale isn’t a willfully ignorant person in the sense that a human bigot is (he’s far too caring and has too often proven himself willing to admit wrongdoing), but he’s headed that direction, as you say, in part to prove Crowley wrong, because if he can prove Crowley (who knows him best) wrong, that must mean he can assuage his own misplaced shame and guilt about being “tempted” in the past.  

I do, though, think that not only this scene, but their entire arc to date, boils down to the fact that they both love living in limbo between extremes, on earth, but what separates them isn’t really “angel” versus “demon,” it’s “seeks the approval of community” versus “would rather be authentic even if that means solitude.” It’s two very different ways of coping with shame at unbelonging.  And neither is actually superior; both are (irony!) very human impulses. 

And yes, yes, it hurts :’’’’) 

[myblogystuff]

Tiny cuddling partner

Papa Emeritus IV x Fem!Reader, mentions of Plushia (in an innocent toy story way)

warnings : none really, just a cute moment w/ our sweet popia.

word count : 1,026 words.

Hi ghesties, this is my first ever fanfic, i’m really glad that it’s a ghost one. i don’t know if anyone is gonna read this. I had fun writing it, honestly I giggled so much. here goes nothing.

Reader’s POV : 

I missed him, I missed my papa.

He’s been working his gorgeous ass off planning future rituals, merch and box sets.

It’s been a few weeks now since we’ve had a proper romantic moment together. Most of the time we manage to find time for a date, movie night, even if it’s just cuddles before falling asleep.

Today, he called to let me know that he could take some time to have lunch together in his office. So, this is me walking there with lunch in one hand and a box of desserts in the other.

Thank Satan the door is open when I get there, I would have knocked with my foot otherwise.

When I finally get in he is (he’s the shining and the light...sorry, not sorry) nose deep in his papers, fully focused, didn’t even hear me come in.

“Knock, knock” I say.

That makes him lift his head and smiled at me.

“Hello my love, I’ll be yours in just a moment” he said and gestured me to sit on the couch near the fire.

Then he went right back to finishing his task. I decided to take that time to unpack lunch.

After a while he finally joined me, put his hand on one of mine, I smile at him, he gently kisses my forehead.

I was melting at his touch. I instinctively hug him and nuzzle deeper in his neck leaving a couple of innocent kisses there. He hummed quietly and started rubbing my back.  He pulls back looking me in the eyes.

“Thank you for lunch, amore, I’ve been looking forward to it, I miss spending time with you” he says kissing my hand.

“I miss you too, papa” I kiss him on the cheek and he hums again.

“I am really sorry, I’m trying to do a good job with this album, I want everything to be perfect”.

“You are, you’re doing amazing. Now let’s eat”.

“Yess, I am starving, I’ve been living on sandwiches and juice boxes for too long” that makes me realise that I’ve been busy myself; too busy to make sure he doesn’t miss his meals. That ought to change.

“Don’t worry your wifey is here to make sure you eat healthy, or not so much since I brought desserts” pointing at the box.

“I swear to Satan, you’re a fallen angel!” he says before starting to eat, and I do the same.

“How’s your day so far” he asks, mouth full.

“A bit slow”

“You sleep well?”

“Yeah, I got me a new tiny cuddling partner” I say with a smile, thinking of that plush version of my hubby that one of the ghouls gave me when coming back from tour once, they said a fan threw it at them.

“You do? Well...um...” Copia chokes on his food. Not knowing what to say or what to think he just kept eating.

After we finished our lunch and had our desserts, I noticed his eyes darting to his desk, probably time to get back to work.

“We should do this more often, papa. I enjoyed it.” I say while cleaning the small table. He nodded. “You should get back before sister imperator scolds me for distracting you“I say with a hint of seriousness. That woman is gonna work him to death.

“hahaa, yes I should, thanks again, my precious” he goes back to his place behind his desk and picks up where he left off.

Before leaving, I went over to him, put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention, then leaning to him, I give him a soft yet firm kiss. Then I’m gone.

3rd person POV :

Papa Emeritus IV had a hard time focusing for the rest of the day. Thoughts clouded his mind: who the fuck was cuddling his wife at night?

He never saw anybody when going to bed at night -then again he was so exhausted.

Maybe they leave before he gets there?

She said tiny...Sodo!? Noooo way!

I was so consumed by work that I made her seek comfort elsewhere.

“Stop that” he says to himself, “get back to work”.

Usually, at night he spends extra hours working and planning tomorrow’s work, but today all that thinking made him want to get off work a bit early to give his lady the cuddling they both missed.

Once he arrived, he opened the door extra quietly and got in, walking on his tippy toes, trying to summon the ninja in him.

Poking his head through the doorframe, he saw his lady’s back was turned to him, the lights were off except for the one on his bedside –she always leaves that one on for him.

He rounds the bed, and what he sees leaves him speechless.

In his beloved wife’s arms a tiny, ugly he thought, plush that looked like him in his cardinal days.

“You!” he whisper-yells at it.

As if possessed the plush slowly turned its head and winked at him.

Eyebrows to the sky, mouth open, Copia didn’t know if what he saw was real or if he was hallucinating. Pointing at it, he said : “I am not having no Annabelle near my precious wife”.

Reader’s POV :

 I woke to papa taking Plushia from my arms and putting it on one of the top shelves where he keeps his boring (his words not mine) books.

“Papa, what are you doing? Are you back from work already?” I ask confused.

“Don’t worry amore. I’m all yours in a moment” and with that he picked some comfy clothes and got ready for bed.

“hi” he says getting under the covers and positioning himself in the middle, he takes me in his arms and I instinctively rest my head on his chest. “That’s better, no?”.

“Yes it is, I have to say that even though I enjoyed having Plushia with me, I definitely prefer the original”. That earns me a confused look.

“What did you call that thing? You know what, nevermind, I’m here now” he tilts my head so I’m looking at him”I love you”.

“And I love you, Copia”.

[iraprince]

any advice for starting sketches? once i have a coherent foundation it's easier for me to work on the drawing but i struggle SO BAD with actually making my initial sketch something that makes sense. when i try to start the sketch it feels like im just trying to get lucky with something i can actually work on. it's like i cant transfer what i want to see in my head to the actual work and it's insanely frustrating. it's like i can only know what i want to do when it's already there, not when nothing is there. ive been drawing for over 10 years and this is something I've never been able to change no matter how many different ways I've tried to go about this and it's why ive gone everywhere from drawing multiple times a week to not doing it at all for months/years at a time. i never want to try because the process of attempting a new sketch is so frustrating a majority of the time and i wish i could enjoy it or know why i cant get my sketches started. it's fine when i do get lucky, it's just the blank page that torments me

hmmm this is a really good question. it's something i have an easier time with digitally than traditionally, somehow -- like, i can't tell you how many stacks of paper i have sitting around that are full of, like, 20% of a floating head because i keep getting that far on starting something and then deciding i hate it, vs with digital sketches i do still often scrap/give up on sketches very early but somehow there's less friction irt just making a new layer and trying again, over and over pretty quickly. maybe it's that digital feels faster + more ephemeral, vs w traditional i'm faced more confrontationally with the paper i'm "wasting," etc

also i think just like. "what's in my head will not show up on the paper" is just the universal problem forever, it's the tide we're always swimming against and we'll go through waves where it feels more or less true depending on the current development of our technical skill vs our critical eye, but i don't think it ever fully goes away

this is just what's true for me but if it always feels like you're just trying to get lucky, the fastest brute force solution for that is leaning into quantity, imo. draw a LOT, draw FAST, and -- easier said than done, but -- try your best not to CARE if they look bad. even in the shittiest drawing there is often something you can salvage for later. i can't remember where i saw it but i once saw it said that drawing is like a clogged pipe -- there's a bunch of shitty drawings stuck in there and you have to get those all OUT before you can expect the real stuff behind it to start flowing

lower the stakes, in whatever way you can. in my experience, it's not that drawing itself is really that hard or taxing -- it's that the emotional toll of doing drawings and then not being happy with them is hard, it's disappointment and being down on yourself that's hard. if we do our best to strip away all the emotional baggage, that's that part that can actually make art so grueling and difficult to keep up with imo. so try the best u can to just make it, like... not that serious. remind yourself over and over again that there's nothing actually wrong with making drawings you're not satisfied with. it's not doing anything bad to anyone. i literally mumble it to myself sometimes -- when a drawing is coming out shitty or i just can't get where i want to be on an illustration i say to myself "it's okay, that's fine" and try to pump the brakes on the negative thoughts before "ugh, that's not what i wanted" somehow internally transforms into "you SUCK and you're a HACK and there's no point to ANY OF THIS!!!!" lol

in terms of more concrete stuff to try -- one of my fav exercises to loosen up is song sketches. i put a huge playlist (usually like literally all my music, i have it all in a folder on spotify) on shuffle and then draw a bunch of quick sketches only for the duration of each song, and usually trying to match the drawing to whatever the song makes me think of -- so if it's a 2 minute song, i literally only have 2 minutes. if i hit some 7 minute club edit, then great, i have 7 minutes to bang out something slightly more polished. depending on how fast you're used to working, you may find that at first you struggle to get ANYTHING coherent down in 2-3 minutes -- that's OKAY!!! another point of this exercise is to acclimate yourself to making unfinished, incoherent, dogshit drawings without it being a big deal. the point is that if you're limiting yourself this much (in terms of actual drawing time AND in terms of not being able to overthink/plan, you have to hear the start of the song and decide what ur gonna draw IMMEDIATELY), you will end up churning out a lot more drawings without individually agonizing over each one as much, and there WILL be something salvageable in the pile.

i hope some part of this is helpful!!!! good luck!!!

[soulofapatrick]

Be my Valentine - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Someone pranks Y/N with a valentines date and it ends so much better than you expected

Words: 1K

Warnings: being stood up(?); pure fluff

Y/N’s POV

My face flushes as I realise the invite was a prank, teenagers and young adults all sniggering at me as Ellie grips my elbow to stop me turning and running out. She’s leading me over to her family booth where Joel; Tommy; Maria and Jesse are all sat, waiting for Ellie. I try to shrug her off but she’s persistent and has a strong grip on me that I can’t escape so I just comply with being shoved in the booth, nest to Jesse who seems to immediately understand. 

Jesse takes the piece of paper from me and rips it up there and then, Ellie having disappeared to probably get us drinks. I can feel the Miller brothers’ eyes on me watching this whole interaction go down. With Ellie gone there’s no one to stop me leaving or so I thought. Dina appears, sliding into the booth so she and Jesse are trapping me in. Fuck the three of them and their hive mind so I just look down at the table and the torn up paper.

“Drink.” Ellie has joined us again, practically sitting in Dina’s lap as we’re all squashed onto one side while Tommy; Joel and Maria continue their own conversation, acting like nothings happening. They obviously know somethings happening but they probably don’t know what. I just shake my head and grab the beer, practically chugging half of it then and there. If I’m drunk I won’t have to think about what happened. 

I tune out Ellie and Jesse bickering about who Dina finds the funniest to really take in the famous Miller brothers. I’ve lived in Jackson for five months now and have never really had the opportunity to meet them or see what’s so scary about them. Ive had a few short conversations with Joel as that was inevitable with being friends with his daughter but Tommy… He’s either busy running the settlement with Maria or out on patrols. I’m sure him and Maria are a thing with how tightly knit they are and how in tune to each other they seem to be. 

Both brothers seem worn with the pressure of keeping everyone safe and there’s guilt there too. Ellie’s told me about Sarah so that’s probably the main guilt they both seem to carry as Tommy seems like the type of person to sacrifice himself for family. There’s about ten years between the brothers but it doesn’t seem to affect their relationship one bit, if anything it seems to make them closer. They don’t look fully alike but there are some features like their noses or actions and habits that scream siblings. Unlike Joel’s short salt and pepper hair, Tommy has dirty blonde hair that is just long enough to put in a small bun. A few strands always escape the bun and I gave to admit I’ve wanted to brush them out of his jade coloured eyes. No matter how stressful the situation is Tommy’s eyes are always bright and full of hope which I envy sometimes but it makes him more appealing. He’s also go a scar across his cheek that creases when he talks or smiles, probably from a bullet graze I’m guessing. 

“Do you want to dance?” A soft southern drawl snaps me out of my studying of the pair to find my best friends have abandoned me for the dance floor and it’s now just me, Joel and Tommy sat in the booth, Maria having also left at some point. The person asking me to dance is Tommy, pieces of the Valentines invite in his hands. It sends my face a very embarrassing shade of red because it’s in enough pieces for him to understand what happened, “Wouldn’t want that pretty dress go to waste.” 

“O-okay,” I can’t say no to that boyish grin as he stands up and holds a hand out for me. I do hesitate before taking it and letting him lead me, “I can’t dance though.” 

“That’s okay, just go with the flow,” He twirls me once before pulling me close to his chest, his large hands settling on my waist while mine snake around his shoulders. Of course in this stupid cliche thing that is my life it’s a slow song playing. Oh wait no, Ellie’s talking to the person in control of the music. I follow Tommy’s lead, swaying with him and trying to ignore the way more and more eyes burn through my skin as I’m dancing with the leader of the settlement. It makes my face heat up even more and I’m hiding it in his jacket, “Hey Sweetheart, you okay?”

“People are staring.” I mumble, keeping my face hidden until he slows us to a stop so he can hook a finger under my chin and make me look up at him. He’s not much taller than me, about two to three inches, and he’s so close it makes my throat dry. One of my hands slides from the back of his neck to the side of it, thumb rubbing gently as his bearded jawline and I swear his eyes darken for a second. 

In the soft light, his whole body so close to mine I can smell the vanilla cologne Joel gave him for Christmas as well as the cherry from the drink he was drinking. I think Ellie got it for him to try as she’s been raving about this drink for months. I can feel my heart in my throat as those familiar jade orbs flick down to my slightly parted lips, a hungry look in them as he whispers, “Want to give them something to stare at?”.

“Wh-“ I don’t get to finish my sentence because he’s closing the gap and pressing his lips to mine. His hands are snaking around my waist, one trailing light fingers up my spine to rest on the back of my neck as he tilts his head into the kiss to get better access. The kiss is soft yet it make me weak at the knees, so glad he’s holding onto me. 

“Happy Valentines Day Darling,” He presses a chaste kiss to my shoulder as the song comes to an end but he doesn’t let me go, “Will you be my Valentine?” 

“Yes,” I rush out, still breathless and heart pounding. He kisses me again, smiling against my lips. 

“Thank god.” 

[gammagoop]

theres many reblogs of this i wanted to respond to so i will be posting screenshots and my thoughts

yeah… this is a gripe i have with many art styles in general (not just hermitcraft) because giving every character a tiny nose feels extremely eurocentric beauty standards.

you can figure out how to draw larger noses in a way that works with your style. i believe in you. (directed at people who do this)

a lot of people said they were bothered by a lack of body variation in some way or another and, while i do fully agree, that is also like. a legitimate problem. fatphobia and anti-aging and societal beauty standards etc. so not exactly what i meant with this post :p i do think that while it is pretty off-putting to see specific hermits drawn skinny (stress, impulse, cub, etc), if someone’s lineup has a good range of body types but they just drew a couple with a body type i usually dont imagine them with— thats pretty much fine. i more just want a broad range of variation, i don’t particularly need any one hermit to be drawn with any one body type all the time.

but anyways yes i completely agree with the pix statement in this one. people forget that he loved mischief— he just does mischief more analytically.

this is an interesting one because ive never really heard anyone talk about this :o i havent been aware of it personally, anyway. my cleo design is more just ‘person with scars and injuries’ rather than ‘sewn together’ but i think that was just because i wanted to give her vivisection scars

neither design really bothers me but i respect your opinion o7

i think the head-wings are a bird-winged character design thing in general, not just with mcyt. but yeah it is strange and i dont really know why people do it shrug

im gonna be honest i agree with this a lot. i dont mind the bird thing on paper but having it be so ingrained into fanon makes it so bland …. my grian is just human. bless. i also think its very funny for him to just be human. i like some bird grians from specific artists but yeah the majority of fanon grian isnt my favorite thing in the whole world. i dont like the height thing either :[ i do think he’s one of the shorter hermits but to me he’s like 5’5 at the least.

there’s some kind of association between mischief and being young so any prankster automatically gets drawn looking younger and any older prankster has their whimsy forgotten…. literally 1984 dystopia society

these people just agree with each other and i think thats beautiful. pearl is a creature… pearl is like if the night sky could bite you

TRUE!!!! omg ive been thinking about this so much lately. and ive been working on designing different mobility aids for scar because its something that people put such minimal thought into and that sucks! ive been drawing him with crutches usually but i think he would have to use leg braces along with those. i dont know if scar has ever said anything about how people represent his disability in fanart and i also dont know exactly how it affects him (and of course it is his right to be private about that) so i can only really speculate— but also balance that speculation with functionality. like, he would need different aids for different situations. you cant really sword fight while using crutches and you cant really scale a mountain in a wheelchair. but i digress. use your design brains guys i know you can do it 💪

thats all goodnight hermitnation

does anyone else have mcyt design pet peeves…. like things that arent in any way morally questionable or unreasonable but that bother you more than anything

for me its when people draw joel (smallishbeans) with no facial hair…. even the three lines on his chin is better than nothing !! i completely understand why people do this because he doesnt have facial hair in his youtube icon or normal minecraft skin but. its my little pet peeve. it doesnt feel right to me

leave yours in the reblogs if you want ☝️

[alexandralyman]

New Fic: Not Another Hallmark Movie

Hi Everyone! Coming off my long fic hiatus with a Captain Swan holiday story. I hope everyone has a very safe and happy Christmas after everything that’s happened in the past few years.

                                  Not Another Hallmark Movie

The little fishing village of Storybrooke Maine was just like those quirky small towns you'd see in one of the Hallmark Channel's never-ending lineup of Christmas movies, so it was no surprise when it was chosen as the filming location for one of them to the delight of everyone in town.

Almost everyone.

Deputy Sheriff Emma Swan was less than thrilled to have Christmas come early in the form of a cast and crew that it was her responsibility to wrangle all over town, the prickly Scottish location manager Merida, seven surly Teamsters, the pretentious assistant director Arthur, and the two leads, former teen star Christina Bell and her love interest, up and coming English actor Killian Jones.

Well, maybe Killian wasn't so bad.

With Storybrooke fully decked out for the holidays several months early, a star-struck son, a totally not jealous brother, and Christmas music blasting everywhere she went, all Emma wanted was for the movie to finish and life in town to go back to normal.

(though a bit of flirting with the handsome lead actor certainly helped to fill the time until then)

AO3 Link  /  FF.net Link

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma gave a nonplussed stare to the teenage barista on the other side of the counter, who was holding out the coffee she’d ordered in a festive red and green paper up instead of the normal white one.

“Seriously?” she replied, one eyebrow raised.

The barista gave a cheery smile that it was far, far, too early for.

“We’re getting into the spirit! We should be getting a delivery later today with gingerbread syrup and pumpkin spice to make holiday lattes.”

“Great,” Emma muttered, taking the coffee and taking in the silver and gold tinsel strung up along the menu boards and the snowman cookies in the pastry case that she hadn’t noticed at uncaffeinated first glance. When she went outside the Storybrooke Bean & Brew it was more of the same, wreaths on doors, snowflake decorations in the storefronts, lights and bells and it was clear the whole damn town had gone completely Christmas crazy practically overnight. Which would be fine...if it was December, or even November.

It wasn’t.

It was August.

August, the middle of summer, when the chalkboard sidewalk sign in front of the Bean & Brew should have a sun and a beach umbrella drawn on it to advertise iced coffee, not a candy cane stuck in a mug of hot chocolate. The temperature was supposed to hit the high eighties today, for fuck’s sake.

No, Storybrooke hadn’t succumbed to the phenomenon known as “Christmas creep” when stores put out their holiday merch earlier and earlier each year so that artificial trees were on sale next to barbecues and gingerbread men shared shelves with Halloween candy. The little heritage town in Maine that looked like it had been designed by Currier & Ives themselves had been chosen by the Hallmark channel as the filming location for one of their insipid Christmas movies, where toothy, pretty people met, fell in love, and had their happy ending in an hour and a half against a picture perfect backdrop of evergreen trees and twinkling lights. A Holiday Romance, Jingle Bell Ball, New Love for Noel, Tis the Season, they aired them non-stop over the holidays and Emma never really gave much thought to where all those movies actually came from, until a fleet of trucks full of expensive-looking equipment had arrived a week ago.

They’d transformed Main Street into a faux winter wonderland within hours of unloading, and it seemed the townspeople were just as eager to get into character as well. Granny’s Diner was serving a turkey dinner special with stuffing and cranberry sauce, the local radio station had switched over from their usual playlist of songs that had been hits sometime in the 80s to nothing but Christmas music 24/7, and the coffee shop closest to the sheriff’s station was apparently now serving Emma’s morning caffeine fix in the cups printed with holly and ivy they normally didn’t pull out until it was closer to Thanksgiving than the Fourth of July.

It. Was. August.

And on top of having to listen to Bing Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas or Josh Groban calling to all ye faithful every time she got into her cruiser, Emma, in her capacity as Storybrooke’s deputy sheriff, had been tasked by the mayor herself, Regina Mills, to be the official town liaison to the movie people. Madame Mayor was adamant that they feel as welcome as possible, hoping to market Storybrooke as a filming locale to any Hollywood production that wanted small town charm and little red tape. All the permits they applied for had been approved without question, so Emma spent her days dealing with road closures and directing traffic around the sets, working long hours with the location manager, a no nonsense Scot named Merida, or with the assistant director, a jackass named Arthur who clearly viewed Storybrooke as nothing more than a backwater hick town that was stuck in time.

Which it was, but still. Rude.

As unenthused as Emma was having to deal with a woman whose accent she barely understood at times and a wannabe Martin Scorsese, her son Henry was just as excited about the movie coming to town. While not exactly in the Hallmark channel’s target demographic, Henry loved Christmas, loved movies, and loved the chance to actually see one being filmed in his own backyard. The fact that it was a cheesy TV movie aimed at women aged twenty-five to forty who drank wine and dreamed of their own hunky yet tender lumberjack love interest and not ten year old boys who were obsessed with Marvel and Star Wars didn’t matter, Henry had proclaimed to anyone who’d listen that it was the best thing to happen to Storybrooke in the history of ever. Since the last major event that Storybrooke had seen was a bad storm that washed a full container of live lobsters off one of the ships down at the docks and scattered them halfway to the town line, he did have a point.

Storybrooke was a fishing village in Maine. There were a lot of lobsters in that container.

A lot.

Emma had listened with half an ear while Henry spouted off every bit of information he could find online about A Midnight Clear, the title of the movie, scouring IMDB, Wikipedia, and the Hallmark channel’s social media accounts. Since Emma didn’t let him have his own Twitter or Instagram account yet, he’d followed anything remotely relevant from hers so he could keep tabs on them all. He was even more excited when he discovered the male lead in the movie was British actor Killian Jones. While he wasn’t exactly world-famous, with one of those fancy BBC costume dramas and some London theater work under his belt, Jones had guest-starred in a two-part episode of Doctor Who, making him, in Henry’s opinion, hands down the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. An opinion he freely shared with everyone from Granny Lucas during lunch at the diner to the mailman when he dropped off the water bill.

David was visibly annoyed by it, which amused both Emma and his wife Mary Margaret to no end.

“I’m cool,” he’d protested, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair with a pout.

“Yes dear,” Mary Margaret deadpanned, patting him on the shoulder.

“I taught Henry how to ride a horse. Could Killian Jones do that?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “He’s English, isn’t riding a big thing there? Besides, he’s been inside the TARDIS, and sorry David, but that’s pretty hard for any of us to top.”

David threw his hands in the air. “It’s a TV show! The TARDIS is a prop, it’s not like the guy has actually been to space or traveled in time.”

Henry had come back in from the yard with dog and immediately started in again on the movie and how cool it was that someone like Killian Jones was visiting their town, brightly asking, “isn’t it the coolest thing ever, Uncle David?” and making David grumble to himself all through Sunday dinner while Emma and Mary Margaret trader knowing looks across the table at his sulking and Henry’s obliviousness to it. Emma and Henry had moved to Storybrooke because of David, her adoptive brother, and lived with him and Mary Margaret and their golden retriever Fandral on their farm at first until Emma got them their own place. Small town life had been a huge adjustment, at least for Emma. Henry had the ability to fit in wherever he went.

Big city girl with a cute, precocious kid moves to a picturesque small town and falls in love with a rugged lumberjack who looks like he stepped out of a paper towel commercial and proposes under the mistletoe before the credits rolled. Wasn’t that the plot of most of those made for TV Christmas movies? Although in Storybrooke it would probably be a lobster fisherman instead, and Emma’s life wasn’t a movie.

Plus, after the whole lobster incident, she really, really, didn’t want to see one ever again even if it was brought to her on a silver platter by Chris Evans in nothing but his Knives Out sweater.

Emma parked her Bug in the station lot after her stop at the Bean & Brew and went inside to both check in with Graham Humbert, town sheriff, and grab a bear claw from the ever present box of donuts he kept on his desk. More for the bear claw. Normally, she’d eat it at her own desk while going over the morning paperwork and seeing if there’d been any breaks in her one and only open case, the ongoing crank calls to Mr. Gold, pawnbroker and shoo-in favorite if Storybrooke ever needed to vote in an official town Scrooge. Not exactly something they needed to call in the FBI to consult on. But with the movie scheduled to spend all day filming at not one, but two different locations, Emma had to head out again immediately in one of the cruisers, so she brought the bear claw with her and slid behind the wheel, putting her coffee in the cupholder and turning the key in the ignition with one hand while she took a bite with the other.

Mariah Carey came blasting out of the stereo and Emma nearly choked, coughing and sputtering around her mouthful of pastry.

“Oh come on, it’s August,” she muttered, fumbling for the volume control. “Ugh!”

Once she got it down to a level that wouldn’t make her ears bleed, she pulled out and headed towards Storybrooke Town Hall. The trucks were already there when she arrived, cables snaking up and down the street and a sign with the name of the movie’s fictional town in place on the building’s facade. Several locals were watching eagerly from behind the barricades that Emma bypassed, badge on her hip and tossing back the last of her coffee as she went.

“How’s it going?”

She directed the question to Merida, whose cloud of red hair made her easy to find among the mostly male crew. The location manager had a clipboard in one hand, a walkie talkie in the other, a headset perched messily in her curls, and an expression that was the opposite of holly jolly.

“How’s it going? Well, I’ve got seven Teamsters who are all on their union mandated break at the same bloody time, the call sheet had the locations for today backwards so my two lead actors are currently at the wrong sets, which is absolutely grand, and to top it off the snow machine is on the fritz again so we’ve got no snow for our fecking Christmas movie. So that’s how it’s going.”

Emma understood about half of that, and it wasn’t just because Merida’s accent got as thick as oatmeal the more she talked. Henry was the movie expert, not her. Still, she made a sympathetic face, since it was clear things weren’t going particularly well.

“Bummer,” she offered, which made Merida let out a very Scottish sounding harrumph.

“You can say that again.”

The walkie talkie in her hand crackled to life in a burst of static and she started talking to whoever was on the other end.

“You got an ETA on Bell yet? Well, why not? I don’t care what the call sheet says, she’s supposed to be at the town hall, not the park!”

Emma assumed she was referring to the lead actress in the movie, Christina Bell. She’d met her briefly on the first day of filming, a tiny blonde pixie of a woman who Emma vaguely remembered from some soapy teen drama show that had been popular when Henry was a toddler. She hadn’t had much time for TV back then, and her own teenage drama was still too fresh for her to really be into the fictional kind, so she wasn’t nearly as starstruck as Mary Margaret and Ruby Lucas were when they came by to watch some of the shoot.

“Merida love, If you’d just give me the keys to one of the cars I can drive myself.”

“No,” Merida answered without looking up from her clipboard at the man who’d come over to join them. In contrast to the members of the crew in their jeans and black T-shirts, he was dressed in a three-piece suit that he had to be absolutely sweltering in, his dark hair was slicked back from his face and he had an accent that was tea and crumpets to Merida’s malt whiskey.

It was Killian Jones, the male lead and officially the coolest person to have ever set foot in Storybrooke. According to Henry, that is.

“But-“

“I said no, Jones. You’re not covered by the insurance and Arthur will have my arse in a sling if I let you. Or he’ll try to, at least, and I don’t fancy having to explain to the network exactly how their AD got a black eye. You just have to wait until Leroy finishes his break and then he’ll drive you over.”

Regina Mills had been adamant that Emma was to make everything as smooth as possible for the movie people, and if she’d learned one thing about Storybrooke, it was Regina’s town and the rest of them were just living in it. Normally it was beyond annoying, but, what Madame Mayor wanted, she would get in this case.

“I could drive you if it’s that urgent,” Emma offered. “Emma Swan, deputy sheriff. You’ll be safe with me.”

Both of them turned to look at her and she saw Killian’s blue eyes dart down to where she was oh so casually resting a hand next to her badge and then back up to her face.

“A police escort? Well, I suddenly feel very important,” he joked, with an easy smile that could only be described as movie-star handsome. Not that Emma planned on describing his smile to anyone. “Killian Jones, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Officer Swan. Oh, sorry, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“Emma is fine. Nice to meet you.”

She shook the hand he held out and smiled back. A few weeks ago she would have scoffed at the idea of playing chauffeur for some spoiled actor, she hadn’t gone back to college to get her criminal justice degree when Henry was old enough for kindergarten just to end up a glorified Uber, but the guy was cute and it beat standing around pretending to watch the crew fiddle with lights and cables in case Regina was in her office and decided to pop out and check that Emma was doing her civic duty.

“Brilliant,” Merida said, scribbling something on her clipboard. “He needs to be at the park, they’re filming at that bench we scouted last Wednesday. Thanks so much, Emma, you’re a lifesaver, in that you just saved Arthur’s life, since this was his cock-up and I was going to kill him.”

Emma knew the bench Merida was talking about, it was a favorite place of hers when she needed a quiet place to think. She nodded and pulled out her car keys, gesturing towards where she’d left the cruiser. “The Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department is always happy to assist. This way.”

Michael Buble informed them that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas when she turned the key and the radio came to life again. Emma swore under her breath, the volume control was obviously broken.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

He said it with an amused laugh and she felt her cheeks flush hotter than the eighty degree forecast. “Yeah, well, it’s the local station. We always keep the radio on them in case someone calls them instead of us, and they’ve been playing Christmas music in honor of you guys filming here even though it’s August.”

She glanced over at his not very seasonal attire and turned the air conditioning up, letting a rush of cold air wash over them both. At least that was working fine.

“You have a very charming little town here, Sheriff Swan. I grew up in a village by the sea like Storybrooke back in England before I moved to London, it reminds me of home.”

Emma had spent nearly an hour the other day listening to Arthur, assistant director and grade A asshole, bitch about the lack of a Starbucks and a decent place to get Thai food in Storybrooke when she’d had to work with him on the logistics of shutting down Main Street in the middle of the day so they could film a scene, as he oh so condescendingly put it, “before the light changes, Emma, you see, we have this thing in filmmaking called continuity.” At least Killian Jones had some freaking manners to go along with his good looks and sexy accent.

Nope. Don’t go there, Emma, don’t even think about it. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled. Lame, Emma.

The park wasn’t that far away, but she couldn’t take the fastest route thanks to the trucks blocking the streets around Town Hall and had to go the long way instead. With the volume turned down on the radio it was quiet in the car and she could sense him watching her from the passenger seat while she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the road. She was the deputy sheriff, she had to set a good example to visitors about safe driving habits.

Or something.

The long way involved driving past Henry’s school, it was closed for the summer, of course, since it was freaking August, but the message on the signboard out front had been changed from, “See You in September!” to “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” because of course someone had done that. Still, she smiled to herself at the reminder of her son. Henry went to day camp during the week with his friend Paige, coming home every night eager to hear everything that was going on with the movie shoot and Emma had definitely earned some cool points in Henry’s eyes for getting to work with the cast and crew. He was going to freak when she told him she’d finally met Killian Jones.

“Did you grow up here?”

It took Emma a second to realize Killian had asked her a question. “What? Oh, no, I didn’t, actually. We only moved to Storybrooke about two years ago.”

“Ah,” he said, voice seeming to go a bit flat. “Well, I can see why you and your husband decided to relocate. It’s lovely.”

She snorted, trying to imagine Neal in Storybrooke. He’d think it was ridiculous, twee and old-fashioned, and he’d probably also complain that there was no Starbucks or Thai food within an hour’s drive of the town.

Not for the first time, she wondered if part of the appeal of Storybrooke was just how much her ex would hate it.

“Nope, no husband. My son and I moved here from Boston, my brother David and his wife have a farm just outside of town. He heard about the job opening in the sheriff’s department and told me about it, and the rest is history.”

Her long overdue breakup with Neal had come on the heels of finally finishing her degree thanks to night school and loans she wouldn’t pay off before Henry went to college, after dropping out on the first go round when she’d had a baby at twenty. Emma knew their relationship only lasted as long as it did because of their son and even though they kept half-heartedly planning to get married, it never did happen. David also wasn’t her actual brother, his mother, Ruth Nolan, had been Emma’s final foster parent before she aged out of the system and the Nolans became the closest thing she had to family.

Not that she was going to share her entire life story with a complete stranger, of course. Even a handsome one with bright blue eyes the color of the ocean just beyond Storybrooke’s harbor.

“You have a son?” he asked, “How old is he?”

He was a good enough actor that he actually sounded interested, even though most guys noped right out of the conversation when they found out she had a kid.

“Henry’s ten, and according to him the movie is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to this town.” she said, and glanced over at him to add, “He’s also a huge Doctor Who fan, by the way.”

Killian’s whole face lit up at that, clearly pleased. “I’ve been a Doctor Who fan since I was ten, so getting that part was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. You should bring Henry to the set next time, I’d be happy to give him a look at what goes on behind the scenes.”

“You would really do that?”

Emma realized with a start that they were parked and she was twisted in her seat to fully face him. When had they arrived at their destination and why hadn’t she noticed anything except the fact that, up close, Killian Jones had just about the bluest eyes she’d ever seen?

And not only that, he was looking right back at her.

“Of course I would.”

He said it like there was no question that he’d want to entertain an overly excited ten year old boy he didn’t know when he could be…practicing his lines or taking selfies for Instagram or whatever it was actors did when they had downtime on set.

It was a knock at the window that made them both look up and Emma had a very vivid flashback to being sixteen and getting caught parked in a car with a cute boy after sneaking out past curfew. That little stunt had gotten her kicked out of the group home she’d been living in at the time (safe haven for all, her ass) and even though she’d ended up at the Nolans as her next placement and been welcomed with open arms by Ruth, the memory still left a sour taste in the back of her throat. She turned away from Killian and got out of the cruiser with a cough, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her sunglasses.

“Mr. Jones, I’m sorry for interrupting, but we’re way behind schedule today and-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, exiting on the other side of the car and waving off the apology from the harried looking crew member with a lanyard around his neck and another of the ubiquitous walkie talkies they all seemed to carry. “Thank you very much for the official escort, Sheriff Swan.”

She didn’t bother to correct him again that she was only the deputy sheriff, giving him what she hoped was an official looking nod in response. “I’ll be sure to send Merida the bill for using so much of my valuable police time. And you’re welcome, Mr. Jones.”

“Killian,” he offered, before the crew member whisked him away, shepherding him through the maze of trucks and RVs while letting whoever was on the other end of the walkie talkie know that “Mr. Jones was now on set.” Emma thought that he might have hesitated for a bit, lingering for a moment longer with a glance back before disappearing around the side of an Airstream trailer with the crew member and she lost sight of him.

Or maybe she was imagining it.

She needed another coffee.

With their leading man safely delivered, Emma’s next task was to check that everything was running smoothly at this location and if A Midnight Clear needed any further assistance from the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.

“Another last minute permit…shut down traffic on Main Street again…close the library so you can film in it and have to listen to old Mrs. Hubbard bitch about not being able to read the latest National Enquirer for half an hour…give the ridiculously handsome star a blowjob-”

Emma halted dead in her tracks. Had she actually said that out loud? Shit, she did. Luckily, she’d only been muttering under her breath and it didn’t look like anyone was around to overhear. Her fingers found the badge on her belt, running over the metal star. She wasn’t some teenager crushing on a cute boy she’d talked to for all of five minutes, she was thirty years old, for fuck’s sake. An adult, with a college degree and a savings account. A law enforcement officer, come to…enforce the law.

God, that even sounded lame in her own head.

She really, really needed another coffee.

“Enforcing the law” in this case meant moving an orange pylon the crew had left that was too close to the accessible entrance to the park’s footpath. She’d make sure to note that stellar bit of police work in her daily log back at the station.

Signs had been posted to point the crew towards the set, not that Emma needed them. The bench was set in a clearing halfway down the path, not visible from where she was standing because of the trees. She followed along until it came into view, feeling her breath catch in her throat at the sight.

Henry had called it magic, and she supposed it was. Movie magic.

It was like an invisible snow globe had sprouted around the clearing. The green summer grass had been covered in a blanket of white that glittered in the sunlight the way actual snow would, while several faux evergreen trees had been strategically placed around the bench with more snow dusting their branches and dangling icicles that looked so real it was hard to believe they were probably made of plastic. A loud whirring noise suddenly rent the air, sounding like a motorcycle gang was about to come racing through. But this was Storybrooke, the closest thing they had to a motorcycle gang was when Marco gave Granny Lucas a ride to the diner on the back of his Vespa. A minute or so later, large white flakes started falling from the sky and the noise died down to a quieter hum as Merida’s malfunctioning snow machine had obviously been fixed. It all looked pretty damn realistic, Emma would give them that.

Killian appeared on the other side of the clearing, now sporting a black scarf and a pair of gloves with his suit. He was talking to Arthur, Emma was too far away to hear what they were saying but it didn’t take long before the actual filming started. She’d seen enough by now to know that it was a lot less exciting than it sounded. After watching the lead actress, Christina, film the same five second shot of her character walking into the library umpteen times, she really hadn’t paid much attention to what they were actually shooting whenever she had to babysit the crew on location around town. Regina called it “liasoning with the production” because Regina was, quite frankly, a bit of a snob, but really, it was babysitting.

She hadn’t seen Killian film before, and it was a lot more interesting. Yes, Emma could admit that partially it was because he was really, really good looking and it had been a while since her last date, and even longer since her last good date, but it wasn’t just that though. Something about him just changed when Arthur yelled action, the way he walked, his expression when he pretended to answer his cell phone, he wasn’t Killian Jones anymore, he was his character. Emma had only ever played the pity role of a tree in a school play once, she knew jack about acting. It was cool to watch an actual professional do it, especially when that professional looked like he did. They ran through the scene several times and during one of the breaks Killian waved at her. Emma waved back, telling herself the warm feeling in her chest was from the sun.

It was August, after all.

Henry was very excited to hear that she’d finally met the “coolest person ever to have set foot in Storybrooke” when Emma picked him and Paige up from camp that afternoon. They climbed into the Bug and showed her the popsicle stick snowflake ornaments they’d made in arts and crafts, since the Christmas fever had clearly infected Camp Arrowhead. After dropping Paige off at home and eating dinner Henry asked if they could watch Home Alone on Disney Plus, begging, “Please Mom? Please?”

Emma sighed to herself, putting the leftover potato salad back in the fridge. Whenever Henry was interested in something, he threw his whole heart and soul into it, and right now he was all about Christmas movies. She loved that about her son, while privately wondering where the heck it had come from. Not from her or Neal, that was for damn sure. Emma didn’t actually have a middle name, but if she did it might as well have been Cynical, and Neal, well, Neal never took anything seriously enough to care the way Henry did.

A part of her still loved Neal, even after everything that had happened between them.

She really didn’t want Henry to follow in some of his father’s footsteps, though.

Or hers.

“Home Alone it is then,” she agreed.

Henry settled happily on the living room floor, lying on his stomach with his chin propped in his hands to watch Kevin McAllister get left behind while his family rushed off to Paris. Emma curled up on the couch, feet tucked under an afghan Ruth had made for her when she’d been dropped at the Nolans’ door late one night with a duct-taped backpack and a chip the size of the McAllister’s ginormous house on her shoulder. She’d never really liked this movie, even when she was Henry’s age. Sure, the slapstick humor was still funny even as an adult, but…

But…

That huge mansion, filled to the brim with family on Christmas.

The desperate mother, fighting tooth and nail to return to her abandoned child.

The tearful reunion at the end.

Emma didn’t need a session with town psychiatrist Dr. Hopper to figure out that she had some issues with Christmas. Growing up in the system it was far from the most wonderful time of the year.

It was usually the worst.

Donated clothes that never fit quite right and generic gifts bought for “Girl Age 9-11”, no mother or father out there fighting their way back to her, no house full of family and Emma knew far too young that Santa wasn’t real, magic didn’t exist, and she was alone in the world, left behind to fend for herself not just for a few days, but for the rest of her life. She was the CPS equivalent of a misfit toy, a foster kid who got too old to be wanted. Even after Ruth took her in and David became the big brother she’d secretly always longed for, the damage had already been done. Even now, Christmas movies just reminded her of her shitty childhood.

“That was awesome!” Henry said once Kevin had been reunited with his family and the credits started to roll. Emma exited out of the Disney app and dropped the remote back onto the couch.

“You’ve already seen it about a million times,” she reminded him.

“If burglars tried to break in here, I’d set up booby traps to catch them too.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “No, you’d call 911 and do exactly what they told you to do. This is real life, kid, not a movie.”

“Movies are way cooler,” Henry proclaimed, flopping onto his back as dramatically as any actor with his arms spread wide as he announced it to the ceiling. She stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, standing over him and holding out her hands to pull him to his feet. “Too bad you’re stuck here in the real world with me, huh?”

After Henry went to bed and she’d mindlessly scrolled through Netflix for a while —ignoring the algorithm’s suggestion to watch The Holiday and lingering for a bit on the thumbnail for Doctor Who before putting on a random episode of Nailed It instead—Emma found herself standing just outside Henry’s room. The door was ajar and she watched him sleep under the superhero posters that were dark shadows on the walls, with the Lego Star Wars x-wing fighter that David and Mary Margaret had given him last Christmas in place of pride on his dresser. Their little two-bedroom house in Storybrooke could charitably be called shabby chic, with its mismatched thrift-store furniture and and oddly-shaped rooms, it was a far cry from the McAllister’s giant McMansion and there was no luxury trips to Paris in Emma’s single mom budget, but she’d worked her ass off to make a home for her son and she was pretty damn proud of it

Her phone vibrated and she gently pulled Henry’s door closed before fishing it out of her pocket to check the notification. She expected to see a text from David or that Mary Margaret had tagged her in another Facebook post, instead it was from Instagram, letting her know that she had a new follower on her thatswangirl account, officialkillianjones. Sure enough, when she tapped the screen it took her right to his profile, the picture was definitely him and there was a blue check mark next to his name. The most recent post was a selfie where he had the black scarf he’d been wearing on set wrapped around his face and fake snow dusting his dark hair, one eyebrow quizzically raised while he stared into the camera. It was captioned, “Just walking in a winter wonderland, it’s still August, right?”

Having had similar thoughts multiple times a day over the last week, Emma snorted in agreement. She leaned against the wall, looking down at the screen. Killian Jones was now following her on Instagram, that was unexpected, to say the least. She followed him, or rather, Henry had followed him on her account, but she’d never expected him to follow her back. Had he actually gone looking for her profile or had Instagram just recommended her the way Netflix had recommended a Christmas movie even though it was August? Her finger was hovering over his latest post while she mused on it and the next thing she knew, she’d liked the photo. Seemed like the polite thing to do.

Henry was going to freak out again when she told him Killian followed her. Being “mutuals” on social media was apparently a Big Deal for reasons she didn’t quite understand.

She’d tell him in the morning, just like she’d told him that she’d met Killian on set, had answered all the questions he’d eagerly peppered her with during dinner, yes, he was very nice, yes, he liked Storybrooke, no, he hadn’t heard about the rain of lobsters (she hadn’t actually asked him if he did, to be honest), and yes, she told him Henry was a Doctor Who fan and he was happy to hear it.

She hadn’t told him about Killian’s offer to show him around the set and give him a behind the scenes look at the movie.

Her son wasn’t like her. Henry was cheerful, exuberant, and believed the best of everyone he

met. He would absolutely, one hundred percent believe that an actor in the middle of filming a movie would carve time out of his busy schedule to play tour guide to a random ten year old.

Emma knew better. It wasn’t worth getting his hopes up when the odds were that Killian had already forgotten all about it.

She closed Instagram. It was late, it had been a long day and she was ready for bed. Her own bedroom wasn’t that much larger than Henry’s and there was a serious lack of closet space, but it did have original hardwood floors that David had helped her refinish and a little wrought-iron Juliet balcony off the window. The house was an old sailor’s cottage, and Emma supposed the balcony had been for the sailor’s wife to lean on and look out to sea, waiting for her husband to return to her once more. She could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach when she opened the window to let in some air, the original features definitely didn’t include AC. It was a far cry from their old apartment in Boston, where there had been no chance of hearing anything except the drone of traffic or a drunken bar fight out of the window. Storybrooke had been a hell of an adjustment, but it was worth it to have a house with a backyard where Henry could play, a steady job with health insurance, family close by in the form of David and Mary Margaret, everything she’d ever wanted.

Well, almost everything, she thought, looking at the empty space on the side of the bed that used to be Neal’s.

Some dreams just didn’t come true.

************

“Seriously, you too?”

The turkey special was one thing, but now Granny’s Diner was fully decked out with little fake Christmas trees sitting on each table, snowflake banners strung up everywhere, red and green napkins in the dispensers and instead of the usual 80s music that was usually playing from the jukebox, it was Michael Buble again, currently informing them in his 40s throwback style that Santa Claus was coming to town. In August.

Granny Lucas looked down over the rim of her glasses. “Oh come on, Sheriff, it’s the most exciting thing to happen to this town since-”

“-since it rained lobsters on Main Street, I know, I know,” Emma finished with a sigh. “But it’s August.”

“It’s good for business,” Granny said. “The lobster bisque is still a top seller, you know.”

Emma hadn’t been able to stomach even the thought of lobster since that fateful day. She ordered her usual grilled cheese and onion rings, not bothering to look at the menu.

“Mom, can I get the turkey special?” Henry asked.

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Henry wanted turkey instead of a burger and fries, and the woman whose picture could appear in the dictionary under “crotchety” was humming along to Christmas music in the middle of summer while she poured coffee. Everyone in Storybrooke had lost their damn minds. Or almost everyone. Mr. Gold was the lone holdout who’d refused to allow any filming on the properties he owned, his creepy little pawn shop was the only one left on Main Street without any decorations in the windows and Regina was utterly furious with him. Not that he cared, and the standoff between the mayor and the richest man in town didn’t look like it would end before the filming did.

Granny disappeared back into the kitchen and Emma listened while Henry chatted away about camp and whatever was considered new and cool among his fellow ten year olds, which seemed to change on a daily basis and she was barely thirty but god did she feel like she was about a hundred when her son started in on TikTock trends.

“Mom, look!”

Henry’s sudden gasp and grab at her arm came a split second after the bell over the door chimed, announcing that someone had just walked in. Her back was to whoever it was, but Henry’s eyes were as big as saucers and even before she turned around in the booth Emma knew exactly who had just walked into the diner.

Killian Jones was standing just inside the door, looking around with interest. Strangers in Storybrooke always stood out, something Emma remembered well from their first few months in town, and when said stranger was a handsome man who everyone knew was the star of the biggest thing to happen to the town since the lobsters, well, all eyes were on him.

He caught sight of her, and his face lit up with a smile. All eyes were on him, and he was looking only at her while he walked over to the booth.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!”

It was Henry who replied to his greeting first, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“Sorry to bother you, Sheriff Swan, but I was told this was the best place in town to get real American food and I was wondering if there was anything in particular I should order?”

Again it was Henry who answered, grabbing one of the menus from behind the napkin dispenser and opening it up on the table. “Oh, you have to try a milkshake. And a cheeseburger. I always get it with fries, but Mom prefers onion rings, and-”

“Whoa, slow down there,” Emma interrupted him, while Killian looked like he was stifling a laugh at Henry’s rapid-fire enthusiasm. “Mr. Jones isn’t going to order everything on the menu.”

“Call me Killian, please. And you must be Henry.”

His attention was all on her son now as he held out his hand for Henry to shake and uttered the magic words. “I heard you like Doctor Who.”

By the time Ruby came over to take his order he was sitting in the booth with them, showing a completely enthralled Henry pictures on his phone of the Doctor Who set. Ruby gave Killian a wide smile, her signature crimson lipstick perfect and one hip cocked in his direction when she pulled out her order pad and pen from her apron. Most men (and more than a few women) in Storybrooke were unable to resist Ruby’s bare midriff and wolfish grin. Killian only gave her a polite nod before looking back down at the menu and ordering a milkshake after conferring with Henry on which flavor was the best (chocolate, was Henry’s answer) and a cheeseburger with fries, Henry’s normal go-to meal. Ruby went back into the kitchen with a disappointed pout and Killian went back to telling Henry what he said were top TARDIS secrets until the food was dropped off on plates roughly the size of frisbees.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, looking a little stunned.

“There’s your real American food,” Emma smirked, picking up an onion ring from her plate and biting into it with relish.

“If I eat all this I don’t think I’ll fit back into my costume.”

Henry decided to be helpful. “Mom’ll steal some of your fries when you’re not looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks kid.”

“Steal?” Killian repeated, putting a theatrical emphasis on the word. “A fine upstanding officer would never steal, unless…why, Sheriff Swan, are you secretly a pirate?”

Henry was giggling alongside him and Emma played along with the joke, corny as it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she shot back.

“Perhaps I would.”

They were interrupted by two teenage girls, sharing nervous giggles as they came over to ask for Killian’s autograph and a selfie. He turned to them with that movie-star smile, signing and posing for several pictures with each. When he turned back Emma was holding one of the fries off his plate, the end already dipped in ketchup.

“Oops, how’d that get there?” she mused with faux innocence.

His smile turned to something less suitable for the Hallmark channel’s family friendly reputation as he leaned back in the booth and gave her an appraising look that she met head on while she ate the pilfered fry. She was still pretty good at nicking food when no one was looking, it was a lot more fun now than it had been when she was sixteen.

When Ruby dropped off the bill it seemed like no time had passed, but Emma noticed with a start that the diner was practically deserted, the lunch rush was clearly long over. Killian’s plate was empty, after he’d taken a few pictures to post “real American food” on his Instagram he’d dug in and eaten everything except the fries Emma had filched every time someone else had come over to ask for his autograph or a photo. It had turned into a game they all played until there was none left.

Killian got her back by taking the last onion ring from her plate, aided by her son distracting her, the little traitor. Now she knew how David felt.

“Bye Killian!” Henry said. “See you on Monday!”

During lunch he’d invited both Henry and Paige to visit the movie set on Monday after camp. Emma knew Henry was going to talk about nothing else until then. David was going to be just thrilled to hear all about it during Sunday dinner.

They all slid out of the booth and she went to grab the bill so she could take it up to the cash register at the front, only to see that it had disappeared off the table. Emma frowned, wondering if it had fallen on the floor.

“Ah,” Killian said, and he was even better at sleight of hand than she was because when she looked up she saw he had it, having lifted it without her even noticing. “Let me get this.”

Her initial reaction was to protest, it wasn’t like they’d been on a date or anything, plus it wasn’t just her grilled cheese, it was Henry’s turkey special too on the bill. He must have seen her reluctance on her face because he added, “Consider it thanks for keeping me company, I was just going to get takeaway for one and this was much more fun than eating by myself.”

“Okay,” she found herself agreeing. “Thanks.”

Granny came bustling over from behind the counter. “Hang on, Sheriff, you almost forgot these.”

She handed over two oversized candy canes, Henry snatched one and immediately unwrapped a cellophaned end, sticking it in his mouth like an old man with a cigar.

“Thanks Granny!” he beamed around his mouthful of peppermint before bounding towards the door. “See you on Monday, Killian! Don’t forget!”

“They come with the turkey special,” Granny explained in response to Emma’s questioning look. “And here’s one for our visitor, too, on the house. Come back anytime, Mr. Jones. You were very good for business today. Try the lobster bisque next.”

She handed another candy cane to Killian, looking very pleased with herself. The diner had been more crowded than usual during lunch, now that Emma thought about it, and there had definitely been a higher than average amount of teenage girls. Emma watched through narrowed eyes while Granny went back to the counter and waited until she was out of earshot.

“Take my advice,” she said to Killian, leaning in to murmur it low in his ear, “don’t try the bisque.”

“I heard that, Sheriff!”

Okay, so maybe Granny wasn’t quite out of earshot.

“I think you just made the naughty list, Swan,” Killian chuckled.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

She smirked at his stunned look, feeling something that she hadn’t felt in a long time when she turned and headed for the door, something that made her put a little bit more of a swing in her hips than was strictly necessary and unwrapping her own candy cane as she went. Maybe it wasn’t very professional of her to flirt with him like that, especially when Granny Lucas apparently had the hearing of a woman half her age, but hey, she was off duty and he was only going to be in town for a short while. What was the harm?

The candy cane was pretty good, Emma had to admit to herself.

Hey, candy was candy, no matter what month it was.

***********

David, predictably, was less than pleased at Sunday dinner to hear about Killian’s invitation, and was even grumpier the following week when Henry was still on cloud nine after visiting a real live movie set. He got to hear all about how cool Killian was, and how Henry and Paige got to watch him film a scene while sitting in real director’s chairs, and then they got to be extras in the background and were actually going to be in the movie and wasn’t that the coolest thing ever? Everyone at camp had been so jealous.

“They’re not the only ones,” Emma said with a knowing smile, glancing over at her brother.

“I am not jealous!” David protested. His crossed arms and childish pout told a different story. “Why would I be jealous? Pass me the potatoes.”

Emma handed him the bowl and he started spooning them onto his plate with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Hey Mom?” Henry asked, oblivious to his uncle’s black mood as he took a roll from the basket Mary Margaret was offering to him, “Can I be Prince Charles for Halloween?”

“Prince Charles?” Mary Margaret repeated, putting the basket of rolls down and looking completely baffled.

“Not Prince Charles, Prince Charles,” Emma tried to explain, which only made her look even more confused. “Not the real Prince Charles, I mean. The character Killian played on Doctor Who was named Prince Charles, it was this running gag because he was from a different planet and didn’t know there was a Prince Charles here too so everyone thought he was joking when he said that was his name. Especially since he’s a lot more hand-“

She caught herself before she finished the thought and covered it up with a cough, trying to divert attention away from the fact that she’d almost just called him handsome in front of both her brother and her son. Judging by David’s rolled eyes and Mary Margaret’s raised eyebrows she wasn’t entirely successful, although thankfully Henry didn’t appear to have noticed.

“But, kid,” she continued, “Halloween costumes already? It’s only August. You’ll change your mind ten times before October.”

He shook his head. “No, I won’t, I promise! Please Mom? Please?”

“You said that last year about Iron Man, but then you wanted to be Boba Fett instead, remember?”

“This is different!”

Henry had that stubborn look on his face, the same one he had whenever he’d made his mind up about something, like which was the best Star Wars movie after Empire, (it was Rogue One) or that peas were gross (she agreed with him there), the look that Neal claimed he got from her and boy did that never fail to piss her off. But Neal was back in Boston (with Tamara, that little voice in her head oh so helpfully reminded her, the woman he said she didn’t have to worry about) and while he may have been right about where their son got that particular trait, she didn’t feel like arguing with Henry tonight, especially not so close to Christmas…

…fuck. It was August. She blamed the constant stream of Christmas music and the decorations Mary Margaret had put up already. Her Bug could only pick up the local station and it was too old (or vintage, as she preferred to call it) to have Bluetooth, so they'd arrived at the farm before dinner with the Little Drummer Boy rum-pa-pum-pumming away from the radio to find enough wireframe reindeer set up in the yard to pull Santa’s sleigh and a wreath on the door, while inside the stockings Ruth had made were hanging up on the fireplace mantle and even Fandral the golden retriever was jauntily dressed in a festive red plaid collar instead of his normal black one.

“They won’t make a costume for that,” Emma said instead of saying no outright, trying to let Henry down easy, “he’s not a big enough character.”

He frowned, looking down at his plate and chewing on his lip. She knew she was right, Target wasn’t going to have a Prince Charles costume alongside the umpteen Spidermans and Elsas.

“I could make it,” Mary Margaret offered.

Henry looked up, hope flaring bright on his face. “You could?”

“I’ve been meaning to get Ruth’s old sewing machine down from the attic to make a few, um, projects anyway, it’ll be good practice. Do you have a picture of it?

“Mom?”

He swiveled to face Emma with big, excited eyes. She had her phone sitting on the dinner table in case there was an emergency back at the station, like Mr. Gold getting another call asking if his refrigerator was running or Regina making an urgent report after catching someone littering. With a few taps she opened Instagram, going to Killian’s profile and scrolling back until she found a photo he’d posted of himself dressed in the Prince Charles costume of a long brown coat worn over a white shirt and black vest.

“It doesn’t look easy to make,” she warned, turning the screen towards Mary Margaret. Emma wasn’t the crafty type, not like her “I saw it on Pinterest!” spouting sister-in-law, but that coat seemed pretty complicated. Mary Margaret took the phone to have a closer look and squinted down at the photo, chewing her lip just like Henry.

“I’ll have to look for a pattern that I can adapt into the coat, and it’ll take a decent amount of fabric, but I should be able to copy it.”

“Yes!” Henry was bouncing in his seat, “See Mom? Aunt Mary can make it for me!”

Emma wondered if she’d ever stop getting caught by surprise every time David showed up at her house with his toolbox whenever she complained about the water pressure in the shower or the window that refused to open, or when Mary Margaret made social media-worthy cupcakes for Emma to take to the PTA meeting after she had a late shift at the station the night before and had no time (or skill) to bake herself. Her knee-jerk reaction was usually to protest, to say she could handle it herself, except she had to admit she wouldn’t be able to make anywhere near as good of a costume as Mary Margaret could make no matter which online tutorial she tried to follow.

“Okay,” she agreed, knowing she was powerless against the both of them now that they’d teamed up against her, “but, Mary Margaret, if it turns out it’s too much work for you-”

“Bah,” she interrupted. “What’s family for? Henry’s going to be the best Prince Charles in Storybrooke when I’m done.”

“He’s going to be the only Prince Charles in Storybrooke,” David pointed out. “Sure you don’t want to be Han Solo this year? I can be Chewbacca.”

“Nope!” Henry said, his ten year old mind clearly made up. Which meant he’d probably change it tomorrow, just like he’d gone from insisting that he had to be Iron Man one day to Boba Fett the next last year, but for now, her son was going to be a two-episode character that no one except die hard Doctor Who fans would recognize for Halloween.

David continued to sulk in his chair and stab at his food while Mary Margaret handed the phone back to Emma. It was still open on the photo from Killian’s Instagram and when she looked down she saw the heart was now filled in, meaning Mary Margaret had liked the months-old post.

Crap.

She narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law, who was calmly serving herself from a snowflake patterned bowl that normally didn’t appear until December. For someone who dressed and acted like a 1950s schoolteacher with her pastel sweater sets and sunny, glass-is-half-full optimism, she had a suspiciously satisfied look on her face.

“Pass the salt, please,” she asked mildly, meeting Emma’s gaze over Henry’s head. “It’s certainly a nice…costume, isn’t it, Emma?”

Yeah, liking Killan’s post was no accident.

************

If there was one place in town that Emma would have bet actual cash on not giving in to the red-and-green wave that had spread through Storybrooke like a zombie apocalypse, only with a horde of gingerbread men instead of the walking dead, it was The Rabbit Hole.

Nope.

The shitty dive bar atmosphere of mismatched glassware and pool tables with faded felt was somehow even shittier with one of those white artificial trees set up in the corner and old-school multicolored lights strung haphazardly around the walls. At least there wasn’t any Christmas music playing—Emma may or may not have looked up flights to Canada one afternoon at the station while plotting how to murder Michael Buble and make it look like a tragic accident—classic rock thumped in the background instead when she walked in the door.

Henry was spending his monthly weekend in Boston with Neal and Ruby had dragged Emma out of her empty house to hit the town. In Storybrooke the pickings were slim, it wasn’t like there were any wine bars or clubs, so they went down to The Rabbit Hold alongside everyone else who wanted to blow off some steam on a Saturday night. Which included a bunch of the movie people, Emma saw the seven Teamsters pounding back beers together at a table and Merida throwing back shots as if they were water, while Arthur was hitting on anything in a skirt. Including Emma herself when they first arrived, which…no. Even though he was a good looking guy and would be far from the first asshole she ever slept with, she did not need to get laid that badly.

“You know it’s August, right?” she said to Ruby, pointing at the headband she was wearing. It had reindeer antlers. She was also wearing a short, sparkly red dress that would fit in perfectly at a Christmas party, but then again she wore red year round anyway.

“So? Lighten up, Emma, you’re giving off serious Grinch vibes, you know.”

She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at Ruby, which probably proved her point. Emma had to admit she was in a grinchy mood, with Henry gone and the house so much quieter without him there.

“You need a drink, and a dick, and not necessarily in that order.”

One thing about Ruby Lucas that anyone who spent more than five minutes with her learned was that while she may live in a storybook town that looked like the very definition of family friendly, she talked like she was starring in her own show on HBO.

“Let’s start with the drink,” Emma said, steering Ruby towards the bar and not having much hope of finishing with a dick.

The thing about small towns where everyone knew each other was that...it was a small town and everyone knew each other. One night stands were super awkward when you had to pull them over for speeding a week later after they never called you back, and she didn’t need Mary Margaret to start wedding planning after hearing from Ashley at the grocery store that her boyfriend Sean had been told by his friend Philip that Emma had left the bar the night before with someone they’d all known all their lives. So she nursed her Sam Adams (you could take the girl out of Boston, but you couldn’t take Boston out of the girl) for as long as possible and watched Ruby work her mojo instead of looking for someone to give her the “D” - as Ruby so unsubtly put it. Not that Ruby herself was leaning that way either, since she ended up doing shots with Merida and from the way they were looking at each other, leaning in close to speak in the other’s ear even though it wasn’t that loud, “friendly” touches to hands and arms and shoulders that lasted a little too long...yeah. Ruby wasn’t going home alone.

Well, she did like red. That extended to redheads, apparently.

“So...looks like your friend is having a Highland fling tonight.”

Emma looked over as Killian Jones sat down next to her in the seat Ruby had abandoned to go visit Scotland instead. He tipped his glass towards the pair, Ruby was now sitting on Merida’s lap with her dress riding dangerously high up her thighs and Emma really hoped she wouldn’t have to arrest her best friend for indecent exposure.

Again.

“I guess so,” she drawled, waiting to see if he was going to leer and make some gross comment about how hot two girls were together. He didn’t though, he just finished his drink and waved at the bartender.

“Another rum, neat, and one of whatever the lady is having.”

He looked good, that knife’s edge jaw covered with dark scruff several hours past a five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes bright even in the dimly lit room. Blue eyes that were fixed firmly on her, making Emma warmer than the liquor or the balmy summer night.

Ruby and Merida disappeared together at some point, Emma wasn’t really sure when. She drank the beer Killian bought her, and then bought him a drink, because she was an adult with a job and her own credit card and he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

Especially because he didn’t know Philip or Sean or Ashley.

“Need a police escort home?” she asked, when his glass was empty and she knew the burn between her thighs wouldn’t be satisfied with her own hand tonight. Technically she was off the clock, but it was her sworn duty to protect and serve the people of the town, and that included handsome visiting actors with accents more delicious than candy canes or pumpkin spice lattes. It was just hitting midnight when they left The Rabbit Hole into a clear night of sea breeze coming in off the ocean and the stars above guiding their way like the sailors coming home to the lovers left behind on land. There was heat in the air, heat between them in the heavy-lidded glances they shared that were thick with anticipation, heat in the rum Emma wanted to taste directly from his mouth instead of a glass. She pulled him to her by his necklace, fingers wrapping in the cool metal of the chain and her back hitting the wall behind them.

The music from the bar was still faintly audible when their lips met, bass notes echoing like the beat of her pulse as she felt the kiss all the way to her toes. He caged her in place, hand sliding to the back of her neck and she met him more than halfway, her hips pressing against the bulge she could feel in his tight jeans and sliding her tongue along his reddened bottom lip. She relished his shiver when she grazed it with her teeth.

Killian pulled back, his eyes a glittering line through dark lashes and his voice a rasp of liquor and lust.

“Swan, are you sure?”

Emma really, really shouldn’t be doing this for a number of really, really good reasons, she had a kid, she had to oversee the rest of the movie shoot, Regina would probably kill her if she found out, literally, not figuratively, but, fuck it.

“Yes.”

He was staying in a house that the production company had arranged for him, he explained, a giant Victorian affair with gingerbread trim and one of those wide wrap-around porches that was made for a swing. Killian seemed slightly embarrassed when she couldn’t stop herself from gaping at it, although who could blame her, the house had a damn turret, for fuck’s sake. He fumbled with the lock and muttered that it was far too big for one person but it had been on the market for ages with no takers so they got a good deal on a short term rental. She followed him in when he finally got the door open, catching a glimpse of a kitchen that would have Mary Margaret squeeing over the vintage appliances and a giant bay window before he was on her, mouth latching onto her neck and all thoughts of her sister-in-law and architectural details flew out of her head. Strong hands reached under her thighs, lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his hips. The line of his erection pressed against the damp lace under her dress with the movement, making them both shudder.

Killian carried, actually carried, her up the stairs, like she was a heroine from Bridgerton or something and not just a blonde he picked up at a bar, and damn if that wasn’t even more of a turn on. They tumbled through a door and onto a bed, her ankles crossing behind his back while he continued to grind between her thighs, his tongue in her mouth and his hands now planted rather firmly on her ass. She didn’t mind that at all and was eager to get her hands on him too, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt to find bare skin that was scorching to the touch when she dragged it up his sides. He had to go up on his knees on the bed to get it off completely, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side as soon as his arms were free. His chest was dusted with a generous amount of dark hair, it turned into a line that went down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans with a tantalizing hint of the treasure that lay at the end of the trail. There was something so delightfully male about it, and the noise he made when she raked her nails through the fine mat was even better.

Her dress was next to go, and while she hadn’t gone out with the expectation of getting laid she had worn something underneath that definitely meant she wasn’t opposed to the idea, lace-trimmed and sheer in all the right places and would look damn good on Killian’s bedroom floor. He pulled a bra strap down with his teeth and swirled his tongue around her nipple, bringing it to a tight pebble in his mouth while his fingers worked at the button of his jeans.

“You have condoms, right?” she asked, voice more than a little breathless and her back arching to give him better access.

“Yes,” he answered, flicking his tongue one more time over the tight peak before his dark head came up and he winked at her. “But we’ve got time before we need them.”

He leaned forward then and kissed her, far more softly this time. The hookups she’d had after her breakup with Neal had been more about scratching the itch, getting off and getting out as soon as possible. She’d almost forgotten it could be like this instead. Killian kept his word and took his time, kissing a line down her neck and back to her breasts, lavishing each one in turn with licks and sucks that had her flushed right down to her navel. When he hooked his thumbs in the lace clinging to her hips and dragged it down she was more than ready, slick with arousal under his fingers while he braced himself on one arm to reach between her legs. He slid up and down in a friction that had her gripping his shoulders and holding on against the wave that was poised to drag her under. When he slid two fingers inside and crooked them just right she met his eyes for a moment, the blue swallowed in a dark storm of desire, before her head tipped back helplessly into his pillow and she fell over the edge with a gasp.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Another kiss was pressed to her lips while she lay panting for air and then he reached over to the bedside table and pulled open a drawer, rummaging around blindly inside until he found the box of condoms. Emma saw that it was unopened, which made her wonder if she was the first woman he’d slept with since he arrived in town. Not that it really mattered, this was just a one time thing, but still.

His boxer briefs were tented with his erection. She sat up and slid her palm over it while he was tearing a condom off the string and his hips jerked into her hand. A smirk played at her lips as she did it again, before toying with the waistband and tracing the lines of his abs with the tip of her nail.

“You said we had time, right?”

His accent was thicker, rougher, when he answered. “I did, didn’t I?”

Emma peeled the cotton down his thighs and pushed him onto his back, plucking the condom from his unresisting hand for later and laying it on the sheets next to his hips. As late as it already was, she wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. They had time, time for her to lick a teasing stripe up the length of him and watch the muscles in his stomach contract at the sensation, time to take him in her mouth and continue the tease with her tongue. Each gasp and groan that followed made her feel sexy, gorgeous, desired, all the things she didn’t usually have time for in her daily life. When she finally released him her was rock hard and the second the condom was rolled on he dragged her onto his lap, a wrecked look on his face. It was just the right side of rough when he thrust up, hands tight on her hips and breath hot on her neck. His beard rasped against her skin while the thick drag of his erection rocked inside her, she was going to feel it in the morning and she relished the thought.

They found a rhythm, Emma riding him to the tempo only they could hear, rolling her hips and squeezing around him. The bed creaked with the movement and his deep groans mixed with her own higher-pitched cries. He filled her on each stroke, it felt amazing and yet it wasn’t quite enough to bring her off again. Killian seemed to sense it when she started to falter, chasing the high that stayed just out of reach. He tightened his arms around her back and rolled them, settling on top of her and giving a heavy thrust that made her toes curl and her back arch. Her eyes squeezed shut and one of his hands found hers, lacing their fingers together against the mattress and holding tight. The other lifted her knee and changed the angle just enough to give her that last little push she needed to come a second time.

Killian followed her a few moments later, burying his face in her neck and his back slick with sweat as he shuddered through his climax.

“That was,” he breathed, clearly too blissed out to even finish the thought.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

It had been the best sex she’d had in a long time, blowing every other one-night stand completely out of the water. She had no illusions that it was more, he was only in town for a short time and it was all she wanted, anyway.

“Does Granny’s serve breakfast?”

The sudden question from the pleasant weight pinning her to the bed caught her off guard. “What, like right now?”

Killian chuffed quietly into her shoulder. “No, it’s just that I’ve got nought but some tea and toast to offer you in the morning, and I think I’ve finally finished digesting that cheeseburger by now.”

That made her snort, remembering the look on his face when he’d first encountered Granny’s idea of a portion size. It took her another second to realize that he expected her to not only stay the night, but to stay for breakfast. It was sweet, but-

There was always a but.

But if she went to Granny’s Diner with him in the morning, wearing the same dress she’d worn to The Rabbit Hole the night before, the whole town would know they’d slept together before the lunch rush. She should make an excuse to leave, find her underwear, and go home.

Killian kissed her neck and got out of bed, disappearing into an ensuite bathroom. She’d tell him she had the early morning shift at the station, she’d tell him Henry was coming home and she had to go, she’d tell him something, anything, and leave…

The combination of alcohol and incredible sex was making her limbs heavy and the prospect of having to put her bra back on was about as appealing at the moment as a budget meeting with Mayor Mills. Plus his bed was so comfy, king-sized and covered in pillows that she wanted to bury herself in.

Emma was almost asleep when Killian climbed back into bed, one arm snaking around her waist and pulling her so that she was spooned against him with her back to his front. Lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

Just before she drifted off completely she felt a pang of regret, that she couldn’t go out for breakfast with him in the morning or go home with him again at night no matter how good looking he was or how good he was in bed.

Or how good he was with her son.

It was just a one time thing.

********

“A grilled cheese and onion rings, right Emma?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.”

Ruby jotted the order down on her pad and turned to Henry. “And for you, kiddo?”

“No turkey special?”

She rested a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Fraid not. Back to the old menu now, I can do a burger, or the lobster bisque.”

Emma suppressed a shudder. Luckily Henry wasn’t much interested in lobster unless they were raining down from the sky, and he ordered a cheeseburger with fries instead. In addition to the old menu Granny’s Diner was back to the regular decor, the napkins were white, the mini trees were gone, and the jukebox was playing Top 40 hits from the Reagan administration instead of Christmas music. No more Michael Buble, no one was wearing Santa hats, or wishing each other happy holidays, the Bean & Brew was back to promoting iced coffees instead of pumpkin spice lattes and everything was back to normal in Storybrooke.

Just what Emma had been waiting for.

Henry started chattering away about whatever was currently going viral, something that was of vital importance to any self-respecting ten year old. Emma listened with half an ear, waiting for their order. Ruby brought over Henry’s milkshake and her hot chocolate with cinnamon. It was slightly cooler now than it had been a few weeks ago, but it was still almost seventy degrees out. She’d just been in the mood for one.

“Crap, I forgot to add the cinnamon. Sorry Emma, I’ll go grab it.”

Before she left the bell over the door rang, announcing a new arrival to the diner. Emma’s back was to it so she couldn’t see who it was at first, it was Ruby who looked over first and a smile broke over her face.

“Hey, look who just came back to town.”

Emms felt her heartbeat quicken and a flush rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat coming from her drink. Henry was grinning and waving like a maniac and she took a breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When she opened them and turned around she immediately locked eyes with the man who’d just walked in.

“Oh,” she said, slumping down in her seat and unable to stop the wave of disappointment washing over her. “It’s August.”

*********

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma smiled and took the festive red cup from the barista, a young man wearing an elf hat with his green apron.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She stepped outside of the packed Starbucks after adding an extra dash of cinnamon from the condiment bar to her gingerbread hot chocolate, beanie pulled down over her ears and her jacket zipped up to her chin. The cold still nipped at her cheeks and her breath immediately fogged the air, it was December, after all.

Fortifying herself against the chill with a sip of her drink, she joined the throng packing the sidewalk. The skyscrapers above, the massive crowds, the Starbucks and takeout places on every corner, New York City was a far cry from Storybrooke.

Henry’s list of exciting things to happen in their sleepy little town now included the day when the FBI had arrived without warning to arrest Mr. Gold. It turned out that the pawn shop owner and richest man in Storybrooke had made his money years prior by defrauding investors in a scheme where he claimed to be able to create gold from inexpensive materials, like lab-created diamonds, that was indistinguishable from the real thing. In truth, it was all a scam and the supposed gold was fake. By the time his investors found out they’d been fleeced, he’d taken the money and run. “Gold” wasn’t even his real name, he’d chosen that as his alias and from Emma’s acquaintance with him she was sure he was probably feeling very smug and satisfied with himself over his not so clever little joke. Storybrooke had been his hiding spot with his young trophy wife and stolen cash, the townspeople none the wiser until a literal SWAT team showed up.

Emma had caught him before he crossed the town line, trying to flee in a car that had just been reported stolen to the local radio station instead of the sheriff’s department. She’d been completely unaware of the special task force that was raiding his house at the same time, a group of highly trained agents who didn’t look too happy that it was a small town cop who’d actually apprehended the man who was fifth on their top ten most wanted list when she brought him in.

Gold had stolen a lot of money. A lot.

As the arresting officer she’d had to come to New York City, the scene of Gold’s crime, to give a formal statement in person at the FBI’s field office, answer the same questions over and over again about a hundred times, sign more paperwork than the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department generated in six months, and accept her share of the reward money.

Yes Virginia, there was reward money.

Enough to pay off her student loans, put a sizable chunk into Henry’s college fund, splurge on a killer leather jacket that she’d been eyeing online forever and looked damn good in, if she did say so herself, and buy some very nice Christmas presents for the people in her life. She had several things already stashed back in her hotel room for Mary Margaret and David, although her idiot brother was still in the doghouse with her for the little stunt he’d pulled. Bound and determined to prove he was Henry’s cool uncle (never mind the fact that he was Henry’s only uncle) he’d let her ten year old son drive his truck.

Right into a town mailbox.

She should have bought him a lump of coal instead of AirPods. Luckily Regina was too busy gloating over Gold’s arrest and the defeat of her longtime nemesis to notice the wilful destruction of town property before Graham had it removed. Emma, on the other hand, had threatened both David and Henry with a weekend in side by side cells at the station with nothing but bread and water if they ever did it again. Technically that was a misuse of police authority, but considering she had a citation from the FBI with a fancy seal and everything now posted above her desk she felt she could get away with it.

David’s gift was done, Mary Margaret’s was done (along with a few gifts for the new addition to the family that had been tearfully announced at Thanksgiving, Baby Boy or Girl Nolan would be making his or her appearance right around Easter) and while she’d picked up several things for Henry, there was one item on his list she was still trying to snag.

Gingerbread hot chocolate in hand, she crossed 34th street and walked into Macy’s to hit up the special Lego pop-up holiday store inside. It carried several sets that weren’t available anywhere else, not even online, including a limited edition Star Wars themed one that Henry had declared to be the coolest Lego set ever. He wasn’t the only one, it was such a hot ticket item among Lego enthusiasts that the store only put out a few at completely random times of the day to discourage scalpers and they always sold out immediately. There were even Twitter accounts solely devoted to posting when they were available, Emma had followed them all in desperation but had no luck so far. Now she was down to her last night in New York before heading back to Storybrooke and she was going to give it one more try even though she had little hope of finding one.

But for Henry, it was worth a shot.

Like every other store Macy’s was completely done up for the holidays, with garlands of tinsel and greenery draped everywhere, giant stars hanging from the ceiling, and Paul McCartney simply having a wonderful Christmastime over the loudspeakers. The entrance to the pop-up itself was flanked by two six-foot tall nutcrackers made of Lego, and inside there was a Lego Christmas tree that everyone stopped at to take photos. As impressive as it was, Emma was on a mission and she bypassed all the tourists taking selfies to make her way straight to the Star Wars section, feeling a bit like Princess Leia when she knelt down by the life-sized Lego R2-D2 to check the lowest shelf just in case one had been shoved back there.

Hey only hope was dashed when all she found was a line of Baby Yodas.

“Excuse me,” she straightened up and snagged one of the employees walking by in his “Merry and Br(icks)ight” T-shirt, “are there any of those limited edition May The Force Be With You sets out right now?”

He shook his head, juggling an armful of Imperial tie fighters. “No, sorry, we’re already sold out of those for the day. You can try again tomorrow.”

She couldn’t, but she didn’t say it. “Okay, thanks.”

It had always been a longshot, but she couldn’t help the stab of dejection. Some part of her had thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d miraculously be able to find one for her son and make his Christmas dream come true. The employee walked off and she gave one final, resigned look at the display of Millenium Falcons before she left the store too, just in case.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Emma turned around at the voice to find another employee standing behind her, and older man with white hair and glasses. He looked a bit familiar, but before she could figure out how her gaze dropped to the box he was holding. She recognized it on sight even though she could hardly believe what she was seeing, it was the limited edition, impossible to find even on eBay, May The Force Be With You Lego set, number one on Henry’s Christmas list.

“I couldn’t help but overhear, is this what you were looking for?”

She took it from him, almost too stunned to speak. “Yes,” she managed to squeak out, sounding like a little kid, “yes, this is the one my son wants. But I thought it was sold out?”

“Ah,” he smiled. “There was just this one left in the back, I’m glad I was able to grab it for you. Merry Christmas to you and your son.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She turned the box over carefully in a bit of a daze, double and triple checking to make sure it was really the right one and she wasn’t seeing things. When she looked up to thank the employee again, he was already gone.

Huh. Weird.

On her way to the checkout she got stopped three separate times by people offering to buy the set off her, it was that hot. It was also ridiculously expensive, like holy shit, how much kind of expensive, but she didn’t even flinch at the total when she swiped her credit card. It was for Henry, and that was all that mattered.

The temperature had dropped some more by the time she left Macy’s and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her hotel and order some room service, since she was on official business all her expenses were paid for and an overpriced grilled cheese and a glass of wine from the mini-bar followed by a hot bath were calling to her, but she had one final thing to do in New York before she left.

When Henry had found out about her trip he’d been incredibly excited, which surprised her because she’d been expecting him to be disappointed that she had to leave so close to Christmas and would miss out on both the Town Hall carol sing and David and Mary Margaret’s annual ugly Christmas sweater party. It turned out he was so thrilled because the nonstop holiday movie marathon that had been going on in their house all month thanks to Disney Plus had included numerous viewings of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. Henry had all these grand plans for her trip, that she was going to stay in a lavish suite at the Plaza Hotel, visit Duncan’s Toy Chest, and be driven around in a limousine, just like Kevin McCallister did when he got separated from his family, again.

Right.

She was staying at a nondescript Hilton in midtown, was taking cabs instead of limos, and had to break the news to Henry that the toy store in the movie was fictional.

There was one key location though that wasn’t either insanely expensive or non-existent and she hailed a cab, keeping a tight hold on her shopping bag as she slid into the backseat and told the driver where she wanted to go. He pulled away from the curb and Emma watched the streets go by from the window, storefronts all decorated and a kaleidoscope of lights reflecting on the glass.

“The WYNC-FM weather forecast is brought to you by the Hallmark Channel, where every night is Christmas Eve! Tune in tonight for Mistletoe and Memories, a brand new movie about a secret, second-chance romance at the holidays! ”The latest weather forecast has changed again and most of the Eastern seaboard can expect to see a white Christmas this year, with snow expected on the twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth. Maine in particular will receive several inches spread over the holidays, especially in the coastal parts of the state. And to celebrate, here’s the time-honored classic itself.”

The radio station started playing White Christmas, Bing Crosby’s gravelly voice drifting out of the speakers. Henry would be happy to hear there was going to be snow on Christmas, while it had definitely been cold and blustery in Storybrooke, there hadn’t been any snow yet. He’d asked if the town could get one of those machines they used to make the movie and have Christmas all year round.

Emma didn’t find the idea nearly as unappealing as she might have a few months ago.

“We’re here, miss.”

After paying the fare she stepped out and was immediately looked up. The famous Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre was a lot taller in person than it was on screen in Home Alone 2, she had to crane her neck to see all the way up to the star on top. It was covered in lights and shone bright against the night sky, presiding over the open plaza below. At the foot of it was a skating rink, and despite the near freezing temperatures it was still full of people gliding back and forth on the ice. There were tourists come to sightsee milling about, couples bundled up against the cold walking arm-in-arm, hot dog carts and souvenir stands and the whole scene was all very quintessentially New York.

Back home in Storybrooke they had their own tree-lighting ceremony on a much smaller scale at the Town Hall a few weeks prior to kickoff the season, followed by the “Gala Premiere,” as Regina called it, of Storybrooke’s very own Christmas movie. The gala premiere consisted of a screen and a projector set up in the high school auditorium, hot drinks catered by the Bean & Brew, and a rented popcorn machine. David and Mary Margaret came, and Ashley and Sean, and Paige and her dad, and a very, very excited Henry with Emma in tow, all to watch the bookish small-town girl played by Christina Bell fall for the visiting, mysterious Englishman played by Killian Jones, against a backdrop of fake snow and careful editing to hide the fact that it had been filmed in August. They’d renamed the movie, instead of A Midnight Clear it was now A Count for Christmas, because the big reveal was that Killian’s character was actually a count.

Henry was already planning next year’s Halloween costume based on it. As David had predicted, no one had known who he was supposed to be in the Prince Charles costume Mary Margaret had painstakingly made when he went out trick-or-treating with Paige in her much more recognizable Scarlet Witch outfit from Target. But Henry hadn’t cared, not when the official Doctor Who Instagram account itself had reposted the picture Emma had taken of him all dressed up.

She was pretty sure she had Killian to thank for that.

So next year her son was going to be a count instead of a prince. The scene where he and Paige were extras in the background had lasted less than a minute, and only the back of his head was briefly visible on screen, but in true Mike Wazowski fashion none of that had mattered to him and he’d proclaimed to anyone who’d listen, Ruby, the mailman, his dentist, Pongo the Dalmatian, that he’d actually been in a movie!

It was cheesy, and sappy, and sentimental, and all the things Emma swore up and down she wasn’t into.

Maybe she was, a little bit.

A clip from it even went viral, of a rather smoldering look Killian had shot to Christina that was very un-Hallmark like and more suited to something on HBO. It blew up on TikTok, to the point where Killian had even been interviewed by several media outlets and gained over a hundred thousand Instagram followers. Emma was happy for his success (and maybe, just maybe a tiny bit jealous that the look hadn’t been directed at her), although she wasn’t as thrilled as Regina, who actually put out a press release about Storybrooke’s role in the clip.

The selfie Emma took with the Rockefeller Christmas tree behind her wasn’t going to go viral when she posted it on Instagram, adding the caption “not so lost in New York”. That was okay,

it was for Henry and his love of Christmas movies, belief in superheroes and magic and all the good things in the world that she might have forgotten about without him in her life.

There was a busker in the plaza in fingerless gloves and a Santa hat, playing the guitar. Naturally, it was a Christmas song. Even though she’d only planned to grab the photo with the tree and then head back to her hotel, she found herself staying to listen.

Emma recognized the irony of it, after all her complaining back in August about the non-stop Christmas music that drove her to secretly plot how to take out the three worst offenders, Josh Groban, Mariah Carey, and Michael Buble (he was Canadian, so it involved a hockey stick and maple syrup) she’d come around and actually didn’t mind the acoustic version of All I Want For Christmas Is You the busker was strumming. A small group had gathered around to listen and when he finished, she clapped along with them. His guitar case was open on the ground by his feet for donations and a few people tossed in some coins and small bills.

She dropped in a fifty, with the reward money safely deposited in her bank account she could afford to spread some extra Christmas cheer to a stranger. His eyes absolutely lit up when he saw it and she smiled to herself.

“Thank you everyone, I hope you’re all having a lovely evening tonight,” he said to the crowd. “Are there any requests?”

The question was directed at her and there was one song, in particular, that immediately sprang to mind.

“Do you know It Came Upon a Midnight Clear?”

He thought to himself for a moment, plucking a few experimental chords on his guitar. Then he found it, and music filled the air again. As far as Christmas songs went it was softer than a lot of the other, more popular ones, it was wistful, with just a hint of melancholy but ending on a hopeful note. Even though the title of the Hallmark movie had been changed, they kept a scene where Christina and Killian’s characters had to meet up at midnight to break into the library and find the stolen deed to Killian’s ancestral estate that proved he was the rightful heir so he could claim his title. The song had played while snow fell around them as they opened the book of fairytales where the deed had been hidden and found it at last.

Emma had heard Merida cursing at the snow machine with insults that got increasingly more Scottish when it kept malfunctioning the day they filmed the scene, even the seven Teamsters were shocked by how colorful some of them were, and that asshole Arthur had been in a giant snit by the delay and was even more insufferable than usual. But it all came together in the end and watching the final result in the darkened Storybrooke High gym with Henry beside her staring in slack-jawed awe at the screen like it was Avengers Endgame, she had to admit it was worth it.

Movie magic, as Henry called it.

“Emma? Emma, are you here? SWAN!”

The voice cut through the music and the crowd, rising above them all and she felt herself frown, turning in a circle to look for whoever the hell it was who was calling her name. She was alone in the middle of New York City, hundreds of miles away from home.

A man pushed his way through a knot of tourists clustered around one of the hot dog carts and came to a halt several feet away as he caught sight of her. Emma froze on the spot, too shocked by the unexpected sight in front of her to do anything except stare as the music and the crowd and everything else faded away.

It was Killian Jones.

She blinked.

He was still there.

Dressed in a black puffer coat with a scarf around his neck but his head bare against the winter chill. His dark hair was longer than it was the last time she saw him back in Storybrooke the day after filming wrapped, a lock almost fell into his eyes and it curled around the tips of his ears in the winter breeze. He looked good and he looked happy, smiling bright as he crossed the last bit of distance between them.

“Fancy meeting you here, Deputy Sheriff Swan.”

“What? How?” she sputtered, not quite believing he was real. “Killian?”

“I saw your Instagram post.”

She saw now that he had his phone in one gloved hand and when he held it up, the photo she’d just posted was displayed on the screen. Her own phone suddenly vibrated inside her jacket and when she pulled it out, she saw a notification that officialkillianjones had liked her new post.

“I came to see if I could find you,” he explained, which didn’t exactly clear up her confusion.

“You came to find me…from London? Did you Apparate here, or something?”

“No,” he chuckled, “alas, I’m only a Muggle. No, I’ve been in New York for a few days now, I’ve been auditioning for a new TV series and I just got out of a meeting at the production office over there when your post popped up on my phone.”

He pointed across the plaza at one of the office buildings that surrounded it and she followed the motion, registering what he’d just said.

“You’re auditioning for a new TV show? That’s great!”

Was that a bit of a blush on his cheeks when he ducked his head or was it just red from the cold?

“Yeah, the meeting was actually to tell me I got the part. It was this whole last minute thing, they’ve been trying to full the role for months but couldn’t find anyone they liked, and then when that scene from A Count for Christmas went viral they contacted my agent to see if I was interested. So, I guess I have your lovely town to thank for helping me land it.”

“Oh, wow. Really?”

Henry was going to flip when she told him. He loved all that behind the scenes stuff and would be so proud that it was Storybrooke’s very own movie that was responsible for Killian getting the part.

Heck, she was kinda proud too.

“Really,” he winked. “I’ll have to thank everyone else in person, when we start filming.”

He couldn’t possibly mean…? She met his blue gaze and saw how intently he was looking at her, as if gauging her reaction.

“Start filming?” she asked, “In Storybrooke?”

He turned a bit sheepish, reaching up to scratch behind one ear. “Yeah, they also told me in the last meeting that they just settled on the filming location and signed the contract. Apparently your mayor put together a very impressive and persuasive proposal last week. Frankly, I think they were too intimidated by her to say no.”

Regina had been in a suspiciously good mood lately, but Emma had chalked that up to Gold’s arrest and to winning the town gingerbread house competition for a record-breaking fifth year in a row. Legitimately, too, even she had to admit Regina’s gingerbread castle was pretty dang impressive.

“So, you’re coming back to town,” she said, slowly, and quickly added, “for your TV show.”

“Looks like,” he agreed. “For at least six months of filming. Maybe longer.”

Killian was going to be staying in Storybrooke for at least six months. The official coolest person ever to set foot in it, according to Henry, and the man she hadn’t been able to get out of her head was coming back.

“Good.”

The single word that fell from her lips grew between them in the air with the promise of something more, something new and unexpected and exciting. Emma didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she was willing to find out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nattering on all about myself and I haven’t even asked, what are you doing in New York? Is Henry here with you? His Halloween costume was incredible, by the way.”

She shook her head with a laugh, “No, Henry’s back in Storybrooke with my brother and sister-in-law. As for why I’m here, that’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t I buy you a drink and you can tell me all about it. There’s a lovely little bar in the lobby of my hotel that does a great hot buttered rum. What do you say, Swan?”

She would say that hot buttered rum and a hot as fuck guy who was about to move to her small little town both sounded like Christmas had just come early.

“Lead the way.”

He offered her his arm like the count he’d played in the movie. She looped her hand through it and they started over to a waiting line of taxis on the other side of the square.

“What hotel are you staying at?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s the Plaza.”

Emma halted mid-step. He was staying at the Plaza?

“Seriously?”

Killian looked down at her, brows knitting together in a frown at her reaction. “Yes? The network put me up there, I understand it’s rather famous?

“Yeah, it is, it’s just, um, have you seen Home Alone 2?”

He made a face. “Once or twice when I was a child, I think. Now don’t go telling the Hallmark people this, but, truth be told, my deepest, darkest secret is that I don’t really like Christmas movies.”

Her shoulders silently shook with mirth, thinking of that interview he did post TikTok blowup where he’d absolutely gushed about them. He really was a damn good actor.

“Well, your secret’s safe with me. Although, really, they’re not so bad.”

The star on top of the Rockefeller Centre Christmas tree winked in the rearview mirror when they climbed into the backseat of a cab and started to drive away, Killian’s arm wrapping around her shoulder like it was meant to be there.

Yeah, Emma decided, Christmas movies were alright.

**********

Henry was thrilled when she came home for Christmas with both the most coveted Lego set on the planet and Killian Jones. He couldn’t leave the country while his work permit for the new TV show was being processed, and she wasn’t going to leave him all alone on Christmas.

David was less than pleased when she brought Killian over for Christmas Day dinner at the farm, although he hid it behind a smile and a handshake while Mary Margaret immediately fussed over their last-minute guest and Fandral the golden retriever ran circles around them.

Emma just hugged her brother and whispered in his ear, “This is payback for letting my ten year old son drive. Merry Christmas.”