#guys who legitimately think they could take over the world at 17 years old

[squishosaur]

delusional 4 delusional i think

[trashcatsnark]

Ooooh, gimmie those juicy, juicy Johnny backstory headcanons 👀👀👀

Okay, so I always feel kind of bad? I guess, talking about my ideas of his backstory because A) I feel like they’re very cliche, 

B) I know I don’t know every drop of TTRPG Lore, despite that not truly being canon to the game a lot of the time and also the cyberpunk universe timeline is kinda a mess, so i just do whatever i want (like samurai’s starting when he was 15 and also when the war he served in started, like the amount of overlap between the war and samurai’s active years is insane and the game can’t decide when Johnny was a soldier and when he was a grungy rocker)  

C) given CDPR still plans to expand on the game with DLC and stuff, I know it’s fully possible that my ideas will be debunked in the coming months. 

So, take all of these ideas with a grain of salt and as always if your headcanons conflict with mine; that’s cool that’s why they’re headcanons

I feel like Johnny had a rough childhood firstly, cause in the immortal words of Linda Belcher;  “Look at how you stand. People who had good childhoods don't stand like that.” Like everything about him screams shitty childhood. My brain for some reasons specifically imagines, alcoholic abusive father and enabling compliant mother. Which, again, I know is the cliche of shitty childhood backstories, but it is cliche largely because its an unfortunately common reality. I imagine his first guitar is probably one of the only nice gifts he ever got and music was largely an escape. I came up with the idea too of his father having been a blue collar worker who was injured on the job; unable to work afterwards, given barely anything for workers comp and ongoing unemployment. Leaving the family struggling financially. Fucked over by his employers, turning to abusing pills and alcohol to cope with pain and raging at Johnny and Johnny’s mother. Teaching and instilling habits that would follow Johnny too. 

I like the idea of Johnny and Kerry meeting first as kids, junior high to high school. And between the years of at least 13-15, the earliest conception stages of samurai started. And I do mean the earliest, messiest, barebones stages of Samurai; it was basically two teenage boys playing and scream singing their unrefined lyrics in a garage. Cause they were kids and just wanted something to do, something to get their mind off the shitstorm of life. Maybe, i debate internally, they do manage to meet Nancy, Denny, and Henry maybe they all grew up in Texas and with someone more competent even at their young ages, Nancy manages to get them actually going a bit as a young band. A few little underground grungy gigs playing at bars they weren’t old enough to drink in. 

Now again, formation of Samurai and Johnny serving in the war, lead to like the biggest question marks in his backstory because nothing lines up very well. The war he served in started when he was fifteen, albeit that’s not for sure when he enlisted. Given we’ve been told children can in universe be scouted by corps to be their soliders; its not out of the realm of possibility that he served before he was 18 and was drafted as a child. But. Johnny specifically states he enlisted, that he made that choice. I’ve stated before that given how long the war lasted, its fully possible he enlisted at 18, served so much of the last four years of the war then ditched following his friend dying for him. 

However, I have also considered and really do personally like the idea, that Johnny did enlist himself and did so prior to being 18, though not as young as 15. Because, he forged his documents to enlist. There’s incidents and documentation of people as young as 15 faking their birth certificates and high school diplomas in order to enlist. I could absolutely see a 16-17 year old Johnny, frustrated with life and thinking he could have a bigger impact in the world in the military, forging his documents and enlisting. This leads to of course Samurai breaking up for that time. 

He serves around 4-5 years, deserting and leaving around 2009. Spends his month spinning his wheels and staring at the Pistis Sofia. He comes out of his funk and is ready to send his message about the dangers of corps to the world and he knows just how to do it. Fully adopts the name Johnny Silverhand and goes to track down his old friend Kerry. Samurai is freshly reformed. 

Right around that same time, he meets Rogue. (which even this is fucky in canon????? Rogue says lets pretend its 2015 and idk what a bastard you are, Alt died in 2013, he’d already cheated on Rogue by then???? ANYWAY) They meet about the 2009-2010 mark as Samurai is coming back together. Personally, I like to imagine they met while she was on the job. She had to eliminate a target who happened to be at the venue Samurai was doing a gig and Johnny managed to stumble upon her snapping the guy’s neck or something. And she thinks her covers blown, but hahaha Johnny’s into that and is like “hey, you want a drink?” and is then like determined to get with her and they fall into a relationships. Then around 2011-2012 he fucks it all up, cheats, there in my opinion is definite overlap in his relationship with Rogue and his relationship with Alt. 

I also feel like he met Alt at a samurai gig? I can’t remember the TTRPG lore of it, but I feel like in general Johnny met most of the women he had relationships with at Samurai gigs, partially cause he’s a just...a liitle egotistical. Alt however was there as someone who was genuinely into the music, (Rogue at one point in canon condescendingly calls her a groupie and I can’t but feel there’s a bit of truth in thats how it started). But Johnny started to legitimately feel things for her, but being Johnny, he never properly articulated that and always had to keep fucking it up. They fall into a pretty whiplashy toxic relationship over the course of a year or two where they do genuinely feel for each other, but Johnny can’t ever let his walls down enough to tell her that in earnest and is constantly doing things to fuck up the relationship, cause he’s a dick. Until in 2013, well, we know what happens. 

Johnny has to spend some time with nomads, (probably after releasing Never Fade Away, because I do see this man as the kind of guy to postpone going in hiding just to release his song for Alt before doing so) as do Rogue and Santiago after the attack on Arasaka. Because Johnny’s busy trying not to be spotted. They wait for the heat to die down before Johnny comes back to Night City. Him and Rogue rekindle things for a time, but it ultimately is on and on and dies out again, because Johnny is stinky bastard man. Kerry had already been talking about going solo and by the time Johnny’s back in the city he had and Johnny does his solo thing for a while too. But ultimately Samurai reforms for a bit, in 2020, neither Kerry or Johnny quite ready to let it go yet. Somewhere also during this, Spider Murphy helps deliver a message from Alt about her status and asking him to let it go. He does not and joins the Morgan Blackhand mission to attack Arasaka Tower in hopes of saving Alt’s construct in the process. 

Thats the barebones of some of my thoughts and headcanons; Im sure some are not lore compliant, I’m sure my timeline is messy and clashes horrifcally with CDPR’s also messy timeline. But, these are some of my thoughts, headcanons and ideas that will probably be defunct and pointless in a week. 

[locktobre]

In your Barbie-verse, what was it like for Rip growing up, and when he was an adult, post-getting out of fairy prison? Also, what happened to his mom? In the movies, we don't see her, and iirc, she was never mentioned, so I just assumed she died at some point, or Break was just a single dad.- That PCS Anon

Rip backstory is my favorite and I sure have a lot of it lmao

Rip’s mother was Barbra “Barb” Bloom, and she died when he was 9 (his brother Chuck was 11). But up to that point, Rip actually had a pretty good childhood. Barb also has a power, she was pretty sure, but it was so nebulous she could neither prove nor quite define it--either the ability to always find what she was looking for, or simply being in the right place at the right time, one of the two. Break didn’t believe it, and she didn’t bring it up a lot, since again, she couldn’t really explain the feelings she got, she just knew that some moments were special.

When Rip first started seeing things, she thought he was just being an imaginative kid, but then she realized it could actually be magic when she noticed that like... Rip doesn’t really have that great of an imagination. He’s more analytical, he doesn’t really color outside the lines or tell lies or get in trouble. Idk how to explain it, but sometimes ppl just seem like the type to say anything, you know? And then there’s ppl you can’t imagine ever lying or doing anything crazy or anything like that.

Anyway, so they were in it together while she was alive, and he had her there to talk about what he was seeing. But then she died, and Rip took it very hard. Everyone did, but Rip lost the one person he could really talk about magic with. And on top of that, he didn’t even know if he believed in magic anymore, bc if Barb was in the right place at the right time, she wouldn’t have been hit by that car, would she? So he doesn’t know what to believe, bc if she was wrong about her magic, then was she wrong about his? How does he know that he’s not just crazy? And he can’t talk to Break about it, bc Break does not believe. Chuck doesn’t really, either, but he’s nicer about it.

So that all leads to sort of a downward spiral as Rip grows up, bc he doesn’t always trust his perceptions. And that leads to the desperation to just jump thru a flyway when he’s 17, he was really not in a good place at the time. I touched on it in my other post, but he was gone for a couple weeks, and Break legitimately thought he was dead. And then when he tried to explain about the flyways and getting lost, of course that just pissed off Break even more bc it’s just more of Rip’s bullshit, right? So Rip eventually just says he ran away and then came back when he ran out of money (which is kinda-sorta the truth, if you strip the magic out). So Break’s furious with him (and so is Chuck), he’s grounded forever... But that’s actually a good turning point for him, bc he met Lilliana. And after the flyways, and Lilliana giving him some (begrudging) answers, he knows he’s not crazy. His friendship with Lilliana only lasts a few months, but by the time she cuts him off he’s friends with Finn, who may not believe him but also doesn’t fight him at every turn when he brings up magic, he’s more like lmao ok buddy whatever you say, which is honestly better than what Rip gets at home. And Finn does come around awhile to like wait no shit, really? For real? Which Rip can’t really believe but he’s so grateful.

Anyway so that’s up to 1989. Fast forward a couple years to 1991. Finn and Anne have been together for awhile, but Finn’s kind of like... He doesn’t want to break up with Anne, he still loves her a lot, but since their relationship has to be a secret, and it can’t really be any other way, it’s starting to wear on him. And he’s started to develop some romantic feelings for Rip that he wants to pursue, in part bc it would be much easier, honestly. But when he brings this up to Anne, she really doesn’t want to break up with him, either, so she says that he should just date Rip, too. And Finn’s like and... you’d be fine with that? And Anne’s like I will learn to be, anyway. And Finn’s not really sure if this will work or if Rip will even go for it. Rip is hesitant but he’s open to basically whatever so he’s like we can try it for awhile, I guess. Anne really makes an effort to be chill but it is hard on her and Rip’s like maybe we shouldn’t do this and Anne’s like I think the problem is that we don’t really know each other. Like Rip and Anne aren’t really friends, they’ve obviously met before but never really hung out one on one so Rip really knows her as Finn’s girlfriend, and she knows him as Finn’s weird friend. So they decide to start trying to get to know each other and be friends.

Rip doesn’t talk about any magic stuff with Anne for a couple reasons, one of which is that he doesn’t want to come off any weirder than he does when he’s trying to befriend the woman, and also bc she’s a royal and Rip does not care for royals. Not bc of anything politically, he just doesn’t think they are careful enough with magic and he doesn’t trust them with it. (He doesn’t trust anyone with magic, actually. Not humans, not fairies, not anyone.) So he has to give her the edited version of events when she’s like have you dated anyone before? And Rip’s like it wasn’t really dating but I did have a brief relationship with Lilliana Roxelle and Anne’s like. You mean the French supermodel? And Rip’s like yeah and Anne’s like how did you even meet her and he’s like I crashed her NYE party. And Anne doesn’t know what to make of him, bc it’s such a wild, specific thing to say that it could be a lie but it just feels like it’s true, bc why not say something more believable if you were going to lie? Anyway Rip’s more chill about not being believed at this point bc he has one person on his side again (Finn), so he just shrugs it off. And they just kinda move on and talk about their families and not getting along with their fathers, which are very different situations but it’s enough to commiserate over, and they just keep going like that.

And at the beginning of this, remember, Anne thinks of Rip as just Finn’s weird friend. She has no idea what he sees in Rip, romantically. (Or platonically, for that matter. Like he’s fun to hang out with but why not literally anyone else?) And Rip’s not super good looking, either. Like, he’s handsome enough, but you probably wouldn’t look at him twice. (He’s Break’s son, so that kinda limits how hot he can be lmao.) But he just has something about him. Like, when you talk to him, you get his full attention, he’s really supportive and sympathetic and he always feels like he gets what you’re going thru. So Anne starts to get it, and then she’s like wait am I catching feelings for this guy? THIS guy? And yeah, she is. So the three of them actually end up dating for awhile, which is a lot more complicated but they like each other enough to make it work.

However, meanwhile, Rip has met Calissa. And she’s a mermaid, and a queen, and she’s married, and she has a kid, but... Well. The heart wants what it wants. So Rip has to break it off with Finn and Anne. He can explain to Finn about Calissa, so they could maybe still date, but he can’t really tell Anne about a mermaid, and if he doesn’t tell her she’s a mermaid he doesn’t really have a good excuse for why they can’t ever meet this other girl and it just feels weird. And it’s already complicated, he can’t be in so many complicated relationships at once. And Anne’s really confused about why Rip would break it off, until he says that the girl he wants to see is already married, and Anne’s pissed that Rip would pursue something with a married woman. And he says he knows it’s wrong but... he’s gonna do it anyway. (He can’t exactly say that she’s not in love with her husband but can’t get a divorce bc she’s a queen and it would be a political nightmare... Which might not help, anyway, but at least it’s better than interfering in a loving marriage, right? Right?) Anyway, Anne thinks he’s not the man she thought he was and she doesn’t even want to be friends with him anymore. Finn still is, but they don’t hang out the three of them pretty much ever again.

Rip has his secret relationship with Calissa, she gets pregnant, and then they don’t really know what to do bc they don’t know if it’s Caligo’s baby and it’s fine or if it’s Rip’s baby and they need to panic. But as her pregnancy progresses, she’s pretty sure it’s Rip’s bc the baby’s movement feels different, she’s pretty sure the baby has legs and not a tail. So they really start to panic. Rip obviously wants to take the baby, but he can’t just show up at home with a random kid and say that hey btw my mermaid girlfriend gave birth. Break would think he was insane. Anyway so that’s when Rip gets the idea to fake his death, which he does. And he moves down the coast a ways and raises baby Merliah for about a year, until the Gloss Angeles guard track him down.

Cue botched execution and 17 year exile in Fairytopia, and then he returns to Earth in December 2012.

And life is actually... pretty damn good. He’s reunited with Calissa and Merliah, and his dad now knows he wasn’t lying about seeing fairies and meeting a mermaid and all of that. He has a lot to contend with, re-adjustment-wise, with how much the world has changed in the intervening time, and he also has 2 other daughters he had no idea about, and then Calissa gets pregnant with twins pretty fast so there’s a lot going on, but he’s used to chaos and having to learn about new environments so he takes it in stride, pretty much. He also reconnects with Finn (at Merliah and Kylie’s urging), so he even gets his old friend back.

And then, in 2016, a year post-RNR, Finn tells Anne that Rip’s alive. Which is in response to her telling him about keeping Sloane from him, and so he takes the opportunity to say I’ve actually been keeping something from you, too. (Idk if those two secrets are roughly equal, but for the characters I’m going to say they are.) And so Anne reconnects with Rip, too, and finally gets brought into the loop and learns about Rip’s powers and what really went down with him and Calissa and all of that. Which is a big shock but also he has some helpful advice about how to approach the situation with Sloane, having done it twice himself lmao. So honestly, everything comes up roses for Rip. He gets to live the rest of his life in quiet domesticity, which is all he ever really wanted.

The ONLY thing that kinda sucks is that due to how mermaids (and fairies) age, Calissa basically looks the same for their whole marriage. So as he gets older, she looks more and more like some young trophy wife, and he hates that anyone looking at him would think he’s some weird old man lmao. (He’s only 3 years older than her in actuality.) But that’s basically the only thing that sucks. Everything else in his life is very good, bc he deserves that goddammit.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (39/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch. 

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now. 

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for literally everything, to @imagnifika​ for this banner, and to all of you for all of your support on this story and on others. I never expected to get quite so attached to this one, so I like that you guys are too. Misery loves company and all that. lol. 

I hope you enjoy the last real chapter. The epilogue will be coming soon! ❤️⚾️

(If there’s any weird formatting, hop on over and read on AO3. Tumblr is being funky with my formatting.)

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40

-/-

Outside, thunder rolls, quickly followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the bedroom.

It’s raining.

Raining.

On the final day of the World Series.

Fuck.

Emma jolts up in bed so quickly that her head gets a little dizzy, all of the blood that’s supposed to be in other parts of her body very obviously in the wrong space, and she has to shut her eyes to keep from throwing up while the sound of rain continues to pitter outside, a continual drip that she doesn’t want to be hearing.

It cannot rain today.

After a few seconds, when Emma’s head feels normal again and not like she’s about to feel dizzy enough to fall down even without standing, she opens her eyes and twists to the side to make sure that Killian is still sleeping.

He isn’t.

In fact, he’s not even in bed.

For a moment, Emma wonders if she should bother to go and find him or let him be by himself wherever he is in the apartment. He was understandably quiet on the entire way home and through dinner last night, and she could practically see all of the gears turning in his head. There’s an unwritten list up there of how he wants to pitch to each and every batter on the Dodgers today, and Emma is almost positive that Killian is currently going through it and changing his game plan over and over again until he perfects it.

Considering the fact that her phone says it’s three in the morning, Emma is thinking that she needs to drag Killian back to bed. He may not fall asleep, but he can at least stay in bed so that his body gets a little bit of rest. Maybe he’ll fall asleep. Maybe he won’t. But it’s worth the effort.

Sighing, Emma pulls the thick covers off of her legs and adjusts her pajama pants so that they’re not hanging below her ass from where they shifted in her sleep. She doesn’t bother turning any lights on, the city and the storm bringing in enough that she can see without it, and after walking out into the hallway, Emma doesn’t even have to look in the spare bedroom or the gym to find Killian.

He’s sitting on the window seat in the living room, his legs pulled up to his chest and his cheek resting against the window as he looks outside, very obviously awake.

Killian is going to stress himself out far too much.

Quietly, she makes her away over to him, and while he doesn’t say anything to acknowledge her presence, he does let his legs fall open in obvious invitation for her to join him on the seat. She does, slowly adjusting herself to make herself comfortable while Killian wraps his arms around her stomach so that the warmth of his palms permeates over her skin to warm her from the chill of the apartment. It’s November in two days, but New York is already cold.

There’s a brush of scruff against her cheek followed by the soft press of lips against the underside of her jaw before Emma sees the reflection in the window of Killian resting his chin on the top of her head.

His fingers tap against her stomach in a pattern that she doesn’t recognize, but she doesn’t mind. She may have come out here to convince Killian to come back to bed, to get some rest so he won’t be like a zombie out on the field today, but there’s something almost soothing about watching the rain fall down to the ground to cover the street under the florescent lighting of the street lamps. Even with the thunder, the sound of rain is relaxing, and Emma can understand why Killian was out here being consumed by it.

(She’d still prefer the rain to stop.)

“What are you thinking about?” Emma whispers.

“You.”

“Liar.”

Killian chuckles, something deep in his belly, and she can feel it reverberate throughout her back from where he’s pressed up into her. “I mean, at this particular moment I was legitimately thinking about how good you smell, but no, I haven’t been thinking about you and the softness of your hair the entire time.”

“Damn. I thought our deal was that you always had to think of me and nothing else. Don’t you love me?”

Killian squeezes her stomach. “It’s too early in the morning for you to be so cheeky.”

“Says the man who probably never even went to sleep.”

“I did go to sleep,” he sighs, and Emma watches his eyes flutter closed in the window. “I maybe woke up an hour or so ago to use the restroom, and my mind just…it didn’t bloody turn off. I have changed mine and Al’s game plan at least seven times.”

Wow. She knows him so well. It’s almost a little ridiculous. Not that she’s complaining.

“Let’s…” Emma hesitates, not sure what exactly what to say that she hasn’t already said. “Let’s talk about something other than baseball, okay? We will talk about it after we’ve gone back to sleep and gotten some rest, but for now, this apartment is a no baseball zone. So, talk to me about literally anything else.”

His fingers keep tapping against her stomach, and Emma moves to place her hands over his, a silent reminder that she’s right here and not going anywhere. She may have run before, may have not known what to do when he lied about his shoulder and his accident and everything that came with that, but she’s not going to run now.

This entire relationship has been terrifying, but she’s glad that she took the leap. They’ve conquered some big freaking mountains.

“I’ve emailed someone to see what I need to do to finish my degree.”

Emma almost jolts forward so that she can turn to look at him, but Killian doesn’t let her, holding onto her that slightest bit tighter so that she loses a little bit of her breath.

“When did you decide to do that?”

“A couple weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. I’m…I’m still not sure when exactly I’ll go back. The woman said they could arrange online classes for me, and they can help arrange a different schedule. I don’t know if I’d start during the off season and see how many credits I can finish before next season starts up. Or maybe I’ll go all year round even while playing. I could always wait until I’m retired, but I don’t exactly want to do that.”

Emma tries to take it all in and figure out the best way to respond to him. This is obviously something Killian has thought about a lot. There’s not a reason in the world for Killian to have to go back to school. He’s not going to be a physics teacher or professor any time soon, if at all, so this is obviously something he’s decided to do for himself just to have as an accomplishment.

Killian deserves to get to do things for himself.

“I think you’ll figure out exactly how you want to do it, babe. I’m really proud of you for doing that.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

“Too bad.” She pats his hand again and shifts her head back so that she can kiss the underside of his jaw. “I’m proud of you. Unless this is some kind of long con to actually become professor Jones so that Will can’t say it mockingly anymore.”

He chuckles, and she kisses his jaw again. “Damn. You’ve foiled my plan.”

“I knew it,” she yawns, unable to cover her mouth with her hands. “You know, when I graduated from college, I got some kind of fancy ink pen that I never used. They gave them to all of the journalism majors. What do you think they’d give physics majors? Calculators?”

“No, because we’d already own a hell of a lot of those. I might need to get some new ones, though. And possibly find some old books and go through them. It’s been almost a decade. I’m not sure I even remember anything.”

“We can go back to school shopping for you. We’ll have to take a picture of you in your cute little outfit with your backpack on your shoulders. I’ll put it on the fridge and everything.”

“You realize I’m doing this online so I’ll just be wearing my regular clothes sitting on my ass in here. I may not even wear clothes while I’m doing it.”

“Well, I can still put that picture on the fridge, but we’ll have to take it down every time someone comes over. No one needs to see that much of you.”

Killian practically purrs in her ear as he trails hot kisses down the side of her neck, and it sends chills down her spine and up over her skin. “You certainly do. You could see it now if you want to.”

Emma brings her bottom lip between her teeth and tries to rein in any budding arousal. “As tempting as that sounds, you and I are both deliriously tired, and I really only came out here to get you to come back to bed…to sleep. We should go do that.”

Teeth bite down onto her neck. “Fine. That seems like the sensible thing to do, and as an almost college man, I have to be sensible, right?”

“Or binge drink and then study all night for a test at the last minute even though you had weeks to study for it?”

“Do people still do that?”

“I think so.”

“We’re really old, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she sighs as she stands from the bench and pulls Killian up with her, “but I think we’ve still got it.”

Emma easily falls back asleep, especially when Killian closes the curtains and turns on the box fan to drown out the sound of the storm outside, and while she doesn’t really know when Killian fell asleep, he’s slumbering away when she wakes up, his breath coming out in small puffs and his hair falling over his forehead. The weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders right now. He’s not thinking about what he’s got to do today or not do today, and Emma hopes that he sleeps as long as he can.

Hopefully right up until he needs to eat breakfast and go to practice.

But hopes are not always reality, and in reality, Killian wakes up a little past nine and all of the tenseness in his body returns. She can see it in the set of his shoulders and the way that he carries himself as he does some stretches to loosen his body up before making breakfast and getting on with his morning routine. She’s terrified, her stomach absolutely in knots, but she’s not going to tell him that. Emma is sure that he’s aware that she’s in this and wants this for both herself and for him, but she’s not going to tell him and put any extra pressure on them.

It’s more than just one man out there. It’s more than just Killian, but Emma understands how Killian works. If they win, he won’t take any credit for it. If they lose, it’ll be entirely his fault. She’s sure he’s talked himself into thinking otherwise, but his brain will revert back to that.

The storm in the night seems to have disappeared, the streets beginning to dry even if large puddles of rain water are left in dips in the cement, and according to all forecasts, it should be dry enough for them to play today. There are supposed to be light sprinkles, maybe a scattered storm or two, but it’s all sunshine when the game is scheduled to start. If there are any delays, Emma hopes that they aren’t long.

Killian may very well lose his mind.

(She may too.)

He’s currently showering, and while she hasn’t been keeping track of how long he’s been in there, it’s been long enough for her to curl her hair. She’s entirely sure that the humidity is going to cause it to frizz and fall flat, and the network will probably have her hair constantly attached to a curling iron and hair spray until her hair is like a bird’s nest of tangles and product.

Whatever it takes to look good on TV today, right?

She’s supposed to wear a dress or a skirt, something form flattering and attractive for television, but since there are no technical rules as long as she stays dressed, Emma completely ignores that suggestion in favor or her favorite jeans, a pair of trusty boots, and one of Killian’s jerseys, buttoning it up and tucking the front into her jeans. She’ll have to put on a sweater later to combat the cold, but she doesn’t want to do that just yet.

It’s ridiculous, but putting on the sweater means it’s time to go and she’s just…she’s not ready. They need a little more time.

“Are you wearing my jersey?”

Emma jumps and clutches her hand against the chain around her neck that’s visible with the way the jersey is buttoned up. She did not hear the shower turn off or hear Killian open the bathroom door. But considering he’s standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped low around his waist, he obviously did.

“Yeah?”

“What about – ”

Emma shrugs, a smile stretching across her lips. “Fuck them. I don’t give a damn about what anyone has to say. I can do my job while also dating you. It’s not a mutually exclusive thing, and today is a big day. If I want to wear the jersey, I can wear it now.”

Both of Killian’s brows rise high on his forehead, but he’s smiling too as his arms cross over his chest so that his muscles bulge the slightest bit. “I think this is the most attractive you’ve ever been.”

“Because I’m wearing your jersey? I thought we’d gone over that before. I – ”

“No,” he laughs with a shake of his head. “Because you’re saying fuck ‘em to all of the people who we both know will say shit about you wearing that. I personally think they should all pull the sticks out of their asses, but then what would they have to talk about?”

“Happy things?”

“Nah, that’s too boring for them.” Killian walks toward her, a definite swagger in his stride, and the cool tips of his fingers come up to touch her cheeks as he cups her face and brings his lips down to move over hers, slowly and thoroughly kissing her until she can’t breathe. It’s the good kind of breathless, though. “I don’t know if I’m going to kick ass today, but I know that you are. It’s pretty much undeniable.”

“You’re going to kick ass. Think it into existence, twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…I don’t know. I – ”

Emma sighs, and she swears it goes all the way down to her bones. There’s only so much she can say. At the end of the day, Killian has to be the one to believe in himself.

“You know,” she starts as her hand reaches up to her neck so that her fingertips ghost over the cool metal again, “about two months ago I had this really big thing happen to me, and I don’t think I’d ever been that nervous. Well, that was until my idiot boyfriend decided to play with an injured rotator cuff because he was too dumb to say something to anyone.”

Killian playfully rolls his eyes, but she sees his jaw tick. Still such a stubborn ass.

“Anyways,” Emma continues as she reaches up to unclasp the necklace, grabbing onto it and the ring before guiding her hand up to his where they’re still resting on her cheeks. Killian’s blue eyes widen so that she can see every color in them, and they get the slightest bit bluer when she places the ring in his palm and closes his fingers over it. “I was given this really beautiful, special ring so that I had a reminder that someone was cheering me on even when I couldn’t hear the cheers. You had this for a lot of years. I think you might need it back.

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he starts shaking his head from side to side, his eyes closed so that black lashes land against his cheeks.

“No, no, no. I’m just…no, Swan. I’m not taking it back.”

“It’s your mom’s ring.”

He opens his eyes then so that she’s consumed by the blue even as he steps away so that they’re no longer touching each other. Has she done something wrong?

“Aye, my love,” he mumbles even as he opens up the chain and wraps it around her, easily clasping it back so that it hangs around her neck once more. “It was my mom’s, but I gave it to you. I’m not taking it back. It’s yours now.” Killian smiles at her, the soft one that makes his eyes crinkle that she’s come to know as her own, before bringing his closed fist to his chest and tapping right over his heart. “I know right here that people are cheering for me. I know that my mom, my family – I know that you are cheering for me no matter what happens out there today.”

Emma’s not crying. She swears that she’s not crying and that the tears in her eyes are allergies or something, but that would be a lie. It would because she loves him a ridiculous amount, and she’s proud of him over everything that he’s done and been working toward lately.

He’s a good man with a good heart, and he deserves all of the world.

Stepping forward, Emma reaches up to tuck his wet hair behind his ear as her thumb traches over the apple of his cheekbone. “I love you, and I don’t care what Liam or Elsa or Addy says. I’m your biggest fan in that stadium today, and I promise I’ll be cheering you on no matter what happens. Tonight, win or lose, you and I are celebrating, okay? We’re going to sit in our pajamas stuffing our face with all of the food that you’ve been stress baking, and we’re going to drink copious amounts of alcohol.”

He arches his brow. “This sounds unhealthy.”

“You’ll have either won or lost the freaking World Series. I think we deserve a little unhealthy.”

“I think you might be right,” Killian chuckles, dipping his head down to slant his lips over hers. “I love you too, by the way. I’m probably going to tell you that a lot today.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“I don’t believe that at all.” He winks, and Emma swears that her heart flutters. “I’m going to get dressed, and then we can go to the stadium, okay? I want to get my practice in early in case it does rain again.”

“Yeah, sounds perfect.”

-/-

The stadium is nothing like it was yesterday morning. There’s no empty field that’s covered in morning dew with a quiet air around it that allows someone to simply sit out there and think about the history of this place that’s happened before and the history that’s still to come both for the team and for each individual player and for those who love them. People are bustling everywhere. Vendors are already in their stalls, executives are walking up and down the hallways in their suits, heels clacking along the tile, and players are seemingly everywhere. Emma wasn’t quite expecting anyone to be in the clubhouse, maybe just a few people, but they’re all watching old tapes, eating food, stretching, and bouncing strategy back and forth.

It’s like being thrown into chaos with no hope of getting out, but Emma manages to when Ariel pops up out of nowhere with a bright smile on her face that only broadens the moment she sees Emma.

“Perfect.” Ariel claps together her hands. “Just the couple I was looking for.”

Emma points to herself. “Us?”

“Yep. Things are about to get really crazy today, and I need the two of you to pose for a picture before we forget. It’s just perfect that you’re wearing his jersey.”

“Why do you need a – ”

“Just go with it, Swan,” Killian laughs as he wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her closer so that Emma can rest her hand on Killian’s chest. “When it comes to A, it’s best to obey.”

“That sounds like a great motto.”

“Kind of like a cult, though.”

“Just a little bit.”

“Shut up,” Ariel groans as she lifts her phone in the air. “And smile, I mean. Don’t look like I’m forcing you to do this.”

“But you – ”

Emma doesn’t get to finish her sentence before Killian is squeezing her hip and making her squeal as he brushes his lips against her cheek so that his scruff scratches at her skin like the asshole that he is.

But at least he’s an asshole in a good mood.

“Perfect,” Ariel sighs. “Now, Emma, I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s about to get even crazier in here, and I’m saving you from the madness.”

Emma doesn’t even get a chance to tell Killian goodbye or good luck before Ariel is dragging her by her forearm out of the clubhouse and down the hallways of the stadium going on and on about everything that’s going to happen today like Emma doesn’t already know. Of course, there are several things that Emma didn’t know. Apparently, her plan for she and Killian to go home and eat junk food and get drunk isn’t really going to happen. He’s got press obligations that far exceed anything that she does, and then there’s usually some kind of team celebration that they all do together. It could be moved to the next day, but that’s usually reserved as an off day before the city does a parade and other celebrations and…

This is only if they win.

Emma points that out, and Ariel immediately corrects her and says “when.” She’s convinced that they’re going to win, and she will not take any other kind of thinking around her. Positive vibes only.

Emma and Killian are totally going home and eating junk food and possibly getting drunk before falling in bed. To sleep. Everything else can wait. And if it can’t, fine. They’ll deal with that and do all of the celebrations and be happy about it because it’s a really big deal, but at some point in the next week, they’re both locking the door, turning off their phones, and then not letting anyone or anything bother them.

Unless it’s the food delivery guy. He can bother them.

But that’s it.

She’s gained approximately ten new wrinkles on her face in the past two weeks, none of them coming from being a year older, and Emma very much needs the season to be over for her own sanity.

Without a doubt, she’ll start to miss baseball in no less than two weeks.

Ariel Fisher, however, lives and breathes baseball and managing baseball players and quite possibly being the most supportive woman on the planet – and that includes Mary Margaret Nolan and her continual positivity – and even if the Yankees sucked, she would somehow cause them to win by her willpower alone.

Emma has known her in a personal capacity for over half a year now, and she’s still not used to all of the never-ending energy. Ariel probably had a full night’s sleep last night. Or maybe she didn’t sleep at all, and she’s in that stage of sleep deprivation where everything is heightened and you’re hyperactive.

Emma would bet on the latter of the two.

But Ariel does eventually finish talking once they’ve made it far away from offices and weight rooms and restaurants up to the suites that Emma is so familiar with now. She’s also familiar with all of the people waiting inside. Killian’s family doesn’t joke around when it comes to baseball. There is no reason for them to be here this early, and yet here they are.

And suddenly Ariel has disappeared, probably off to talk someone else’s ears off.

“That isn’t rain.”

“That most definitely is rain.”

“Anna,” Kris sighs as he and Anna stand at the windows looking out to the field, “that’s rain. It’s this thing that happens when – ”

“I don’t need a science lesson. I need it to stop.”

“I’m pretty sure the entire team is doing some kind of rain prevention dance downstairs because I think we all need it to stop.”

Everyone turns to look at her like they didn’t hear she and Ariel come in.

“Emma,” Lucy shouts, scrambling up from the couch to run toward her and tackle Emma in a hug that’s quickly joined by Addy.

“Hey, girls. Are you guys excited?”

“I’m bored,” Addy sighs out, which is not at all what Emma was expecting.

“Bored? How can you be bored?”

“Because I want the game to start! It’s taking too long, and we’ve been in here forever.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Liam tells Emma as he walks over to her and scoops up his daughter while bending to kiss Emma on the cheek. “But we’ve been very impatient with waiting even though whining isn’t going to speed up the game time.”

“So it’s been a fun morning in your house then?” Emma asks.

Liam rolls his eyes, and even though he and Killian don’t look too much alike, she can see the resemblance there. ���Joyous. And from my chat with Killian this morning, I can tell it was about the same at yours with the sleepless night.”

“Well, it is a big day today.”

“Just look up the weather forecast, Anna,” Elsa groans as she moves to rest her head against the countertop. “It’s supposed to rain in the middle of the game. We have known that the entire time, but the sun is literally coming out. It will be dry enough to start play on time.”

Emma arches her brow. “Was Elsa the one not sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Liam mumbles as he adjusts Lucy on his hip, “yeah, she was. She and Addy sat in the living room all night because they couldn’t sleep. I expect them to crash soon.”

“I’m fine,” Elsa promises even as she takes a sip of coffee out of the largest mug Emma has ever seen. “I’m exhausted, but I’m fine. Where in the world did Ariel go?”

“I have no idea. She was here and then she wasn’t. I’m not even sure why she pulled me away from the clubhouse. It’s all been a bit of a blur.”

“Her nickname could be The Blur or something ridiculous like that. She’s always zooming in and out of rooms.”

“How’s Killian?” Anna asks as she steps away from the windows. “Is he freaking out? Has he tried to run away yet?”

Emma’s hand reaches up to toy with her necklace, moving the ring from side to side and choosing not to worry about the weather any more than she already has. “He’s fine. He’s freaking out, but he’s fine. All he needs is for the game to start so he can stop psyching himself out.”

“I want the game to start too,” Addy whines once more as she falls out on the couch and throws her arm over her eyes.

“Darling,” Liam laughs, “have we ever considered that we made her too big of a fan?”

Elsa shrugs. “I don’t think we ever even had a choice.”

Emma stays up in the suite talking and eating cheeseburger sliders and drinking hot chocolate for the next hour, and it’s enough distraction that she doesn’t really think about what’s going on and the nerves radiating deep from her stomach and out to every inch of her. That only really begins when she has to officially start working, leaving the suite to walk to the ESPN booth and get her microphone hooked up to her and prepped for the start of the game. They have her hair curled again, just like she thought, and Isaac and James most definitely eye the jersey she has on. Emma ignores them, even if she does put on her sweater and take the raincoat the network offers her, and leaves the booth to go find the spot they have saved for her behind home plate.

People are filling the stands, a hushed murmur covering the stadium as the sun continues to peek through dark clouds, and Emma’s eyes are stuck on Killian as he continues the last of his pre-game warm-ups.

This exact day last year was one of the craziest days of her life, and she doesn’t think any of it could compare to this.

“You look like you’re going to vomit,” Jeff murmurs as he sets up the protective cover over his camera.

“I kind of feel like I am. Don’t date someone on the team. It’s too much.”

“I think I’m safe in that department.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he laughs, and Emma doesn’t miss the rare smile on Jeff’s face. “You ready to go?”

Emma adjusts her earpiece. “Yeah, I’m ready to go.”

-/-

The Dodgers score on Killian’s first pitch.

A home run right off the bat – literally – and Emma feels the collective groan around the stadium in her bones. That is not what was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a strike, then two more, and an out. Easy as pie, right?

(Killian would tell her pie isn’t actually easy.)

But that’s obviously not how things are going to go today.

Sports have really got to be a little less dramatic. Her nerves can’t take it. Can’t things just be simple? Can’t they have gone back to the beginning and have won in four straight games instead of losing enough so that they’re in game seven of the World Series?

“If” doesn’t exist, especially in sport, Emma reminds herself. That’s what Killian would tell her, and that’s what she has to remind herself.

It only works a little bit.

One pitch at a time. It’s how Killian is going to be out there, and it’s how Emma is going to be sitting in the stands talking back and forth with the guys up in the booth thinking the same thing. It’s kind of hard to think that, though, when there’s a continual string of near hits and misses and Isaac and James up in the booth won’t stop being so damn negative that it makes Emma want to scream.

The score is 1-0 in the top of the third inning. It’s not the end of the world.

The looming dark sky overhead is kind of making her think that way.

“I’m too nervous, Rubes,” she mumbles while Killian winds up his arm to throw a pitch. There’s two men on base, both due to errors from King. She’d feel petty and a little glad if she didn’t need him to play well for the team. “Tell me about wedding stuff. Distract me.”

There’s static in her earpiece before Ruby’s voice comes in. “We’re getting married on a beach with no clothes on. Don’t worry. We can get waxed on the bachelorette weekend, so we’ll all be as smooth as babies.”

Emma huffs. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hysterical,” Ruby corrects, and a part of Emma knows that Ruby and Graham might legitimately get married like that. “We haven’t planned any more than what we talked about last week. Small, intimate, and then a killer party with good food and drinks. Finding a location is hard. Everything is so expensive.”

“Destination wedding?”

“How is that cheaper?”

“I’m sure you can find a really inexpensive place in Nebraska or something.”

“You can get married in Central Park for one hundred dollars,” Jeff adds in, and Emma snaps her head away from the game to look at him. He shrugs his shoulders. “What? I know things.”

“I think the one hundred dollars is only if you want to get married in a certain spot, though,” Ruby sighs. “We’re going to keep looking. Graham said that he’d ask some of his buddies at the precinct if they knew of any spaces. It doesn’t have to be pretty since I know Mary Margaret will work her magic to make it that way no matter what.”

Killian’s pitch lands right in Will’s glove, and the umpire calls the batter out. Thank goodness. She doesn’t know what she’d do if someone else got on base. Then they’d be loaded with no outs, and things would pretty much be screwed from here on out.

Emma reaches over into her bucket of popcorn (she bought the jumbo size because she is stress eating) and stuffs a handful into her mouth instead of eating one or two at a time. One piece falls out of her mouth and down her shirt, landing somewhere in her bra so that she has to pick it out.

“You’re on the jumbotron right now, Emma,” Ruby giggles.

“Ah, fuck,” Emma mumbles as she looks up to see there be a replay of her digging in her shirt. “I hate everything.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“Me eating is like a running joke this season. I don’t get it.”

And she doesn’t really have time to get it before there’s the thwack of a ball against a bat straight past first base and away from everyone.

Shit.

It’s not good. Not at all. The two runners already on base get home, and the batter manages to make it to second.

It’s 3-0, and this is not at all how today was supposed to go.

Emma’s lungs are doing that thing again where they’re not taking in air, and there’s not enough popcorn in the world to make any of this better. If the tick in Killian’s jaw is any indication, she knows that there’s no one in the world more pissed at what’s happening than him. They don’t have anything together, and if they don’t get it together soon, they’re going to run out of time.

And then the sky opens up, little droplets of rain falling and landing on Emma’s nose, and that saying “when it rains, it pours” seems oddly appropriate right now. Her sadistic sense of humor is about to get worse.

They can’t lose. They can’t. she won’t allow it.

The rain keeps falling, a steady downpour of water, but it’s not enough to call for the rain delay. Not yet. And Killian is able to strike out the next guy and then get the third out of the inning with Eric catching the hit.

And just like the rain, the play stays steady. It’s not spectacular baseball by any means, mostly just a sludge match as everyone tries to keep their hands dry and the water out of their eyes, and the score slowly improves. Lance hits a good ball to get two RBIs, making it 3-2, and they manage not to allow any runs in the top of the fourth inning.

Good.

They’re creating chances. That’s what matters. They’re creating chances, and Emma can continue to eat her soggy popcorn while she freaks the hell out about what’s happening and continues to try to act like she’s a professional and not overly invested in the outcome of this game like she’s got money on it.

It’s the bottom of the fourth inning now, a chant of August’s name moving across the stadium so that it shakes in anticipation, and the bases are loaded. There are also two outs. Emma’s not saying that this could be the thing that changes the momentum of the game, but if the way that she’s gripping onto Jeff’s arm is any indication, she knows that this could change the momentum of the entire World Series.

“Come on, Booth,” Emma yells out as her free hand hits against her thigh, the wet denim clinging to her skin. “Be smart. Watch the ball.”

August obviously doesn’t know how to follow instructions because then it’s a swing and a miss.

Strike one.

There’s no chance for a strike two because while the rain has been sprinkling for the past hour, it’s pouring now. Jeff is mumbling about his camera and the cover not doing enough, but all Emma can focus on is all of the players running inside to the dugouts and fans shuffling inside while an announcement comes over the speakers that there’s an official rain delay.

An hour ago, she would have welcomed it. They didn’t have any of the momentum then. They do now.

This isn’t how things are supposed to be going.

Fuck.

-/-

“So how long is the rain delay going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“But can you find out?”

“I can’t control the weather, Emma.”

“But you know things that we don’t, David,” Emma groans as she paces back and forth in a tunnel in the stadium, her hair frizzing around her face and her jeans completely soaked through. “It’s been an hour. Are they going to call the game? Are they going to continue it? This is agony.”

“You need to calm down.” Emma looks over to David with raised brows, and he holds his hands up in the air. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to say that to you, but you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep worrying like this.”

Everyone they know is going to give themselves a heart attack, apparently.

“I know, I know,” she sighs, reaching up to hold onto her necklace and quieting down as some people pass by the two of them, probably looking at her like she’s a crazy person. “I’m nervous. This is really hard. I just…I want to be allowed into the clubhouse so that I can see him. He’s going to be freaking out. I just know, and I – ”

David walks toward her and places his hands on her shoulders while he looks down at her with a soft, reassuring smile on his face. She’s sure that he would hug her right now if she wasn’t soaking wet.

“Killian is fine, sweetheart. You are fine. We’re in the fourth inning. There’s still five more to go, whether it’s finished today or tomorrow or a week from now. They have time to come back. You, however, need to be back in hair and makeup because you’re supposed to be doing a clip on SportsCenter in fifteen minutes to fill the dead air time.”

“Shit. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I couldn’t get a word in. You were kind of having a meltdown.”

Emma practically has to run down the hallways, which doesn’t help her appearance at all, and she’s sure that here makeup is streaky and her hair a wild mess that can’t be tamed, and the entire world can probably see her bra underneath her jersey right now. There’s not a hell of a lot that the makeup department can do, especially without a change of clothes besides a dry raincoat to replace the one that got soaked through, but they try their best before she’s standing in front of a plain backdrop inside the stadium talking back and forth about what’s going on in the game, breaking it down inning by inning in a way that she hasn’t had to do quite some time.

Considering she does it all with last minute notice and no notes in front of her, she thinks that she does a damn good job.

None of that really matters, though, because right as they’re wrapping up the segment, they get the announcement that play will resume in the next twenty minutes.

It’s time to play some more baseball.

Emma shouldn’t have eaten all of that popcorn because her stomach is most definitely churning with nerves.

They can do this. They have to. They will.

-/-

August immediately gets struck out, and the fourth inning ends with the Yankees still down 3-2.

The next two innings are scoreless for both teams, and Killian wraps up his game after that. He played well. It wasn’t his best, the weather and the nerves probably impacting him, but she’s proud of him.

She’ll be proud of him no matter what.

And she really wishes that the network wanted her to do a mid-game interview or let her go into the dugout just so that she could see him and tell him that in person, but they seem to be determined to only allow her to stay on the sidelines by herself.

Emma: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Emma: You’re my favorite player (and person) no matter what, and I can’t wait to see you when this game is over and you’re holding that trophy.

He texts back almost immediately, and he must have his phone out on the massage table.

Killian: Will you go out with me if we win? Or if we lose?

Laughter bubbles up inside of her, and it’s the first time all afternoon that she’s felt this light.

Emma: Only if you ask me out on live television like the asshole you were when you did that last year.

Killian: I think I can do that.

Her stomach flutters again, and even though this is kind of the biggest game that Emma has ever watched in her entire life, her eyes keep switching between her phone and the game. It’s pretty much the only way that she can stay calm and keep getting air into her lungs without one of them collapsing and her having to go to the hospital.

This game is going on forever. Literally. Each inning is longer than the last, and the sun is beginning to set over the horizon so that the remaining gray clouds disappear into the dark of night. Florescent lights fill the stadium, lighting up the crowd and the players, and Emma can’t stop shivering, especially with the remaining dampness of her clothes and the chill that’s whirling around. It’s got to be forty degrees out here at the most, and if it weren’t for Mary Margaret brining down her coat for Emma to use, she’d turn into an icicle by the end of the game.

Probably before the end of the game.

Today is obviously going very well.

It’s not just Emma, though. The crowd is starting to get a little delusional now too. The game has been going on for over six hours now, the last three completely scoreless, and everyone is getting restless and antsy and probably very, very drunk.

Some rum or whiskey or several shots of tequila is sounding really good right now.

She can’t have any of it.

And she’s moved on from popcorn to copious amounts of hot chocolate to keep her warm.

It’s now the bottom of the ninth in what could possibly be the last inning of the game and the end of the season, and they’re still down by one run. It’s almost exactly what happened last night, and Emma’s dentist is going to hate her for how much she’s grinding her teeth.

Just one run to tie it up. One more to win the whole damn thing.

Easy, right? Right.

“Fuck,” Emma mutters underneath her breath, unable to keep the thoughts inside. This cannot end up like last night. They’re so damn close. They can do this.

Eric settles into his position in the batter’s box, his hands moving up and down his bat until they’re in the right spots, and Emma would probably give up her entire salary to know just what Ariel is doing right now up in the suite. She’s got to be losing her mind.

Emma is kind of losing hers.

One. Two. Three.

The ball flies off of Eric’s bat, straight down past third base so that it practically paints the line, and Eric is off like a cheetah, quickly passing over first base and turning so quickly that he nearly falls on his way to second base. Emma stands, unable to stay sitting down, and she can’t even hear herself yell over the roar of the crowd as Eric slides against the dirt to mark up his uniform and have his fingers touch second base right before the ball gets to him.

Safe.

Holy shit. They have a man on base.

And August is up next. God, she hopes that he doesn’t choke again. There’s been a hell of a lot of pressure on his shoulders in the past two days, and he’s crumbled underneath it after having some really big opportunities to close things out. As good as these guys are at playing in the moment, the past does have the ability to creep up around them and wrap around their neck to pull them back to the past so that they can’t move on.

August has to move on.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

Shit.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

Okay.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

Fuck.

Emma cannot do this. She absolutely can’t. It’s too much. It’s all too much, and she has to bend down to put her head between her legs. She knows that her phone is going off, that she’s got texts and calls and emails, but she can’t look at any of them. If it’s something for work, Ruby will speak into her earpiece or Jeff will say something.

This is the worst. Who likes sports? This is just the worst.

One. Two. Three.

The ball thwacks against August’s bat, and it flies toward left field. Emma is positive that it’s going to go over, absolutely positive that it’s going to be a home run and that they’re about to win this game. But then it hits against the wall, and suddenly it’s back in play. It’s not a home run, not quite, but it’s enough to have Eric round third and run toward home, his body barreling as quickly as possible before he’s sliding through the dirt once more so that it flies up around him.

Safe.

3-3.

Holy fucking shit.

Emma can’t hear. She can’t. The crowd is that deafening, and while Emma isn’t jumping up and down, her knuckles are going white as they grip onto the sides of her seat. All she can focus on is the way that Eric runs straight into Killian just outside the dugout, the two of them jumping up and down and hitting each other’s backs and asses as every other member of the team surrounds them in a celebration that sends chills down her spine.

Her cheeks are warm for the first time all night, and Emma has to force down the emotion in her throat.

It’s not over.

But that’s a good thing. They have the chance to do this, to win this now, and Emma’s heart is pumping blood faster than it ever has in the entirety of her life. It may very well beat out of her chest.

She doesn’t even care.

The high comes down five minutes later when King is easily struck out, putting their first out of the inning on the board, and even Emma isn’t petty enough to want Arthur King to do poorly when him doing well is good for the team. She’s petty. Just not petty enough.

Will Scarlet, though, deserves the entire world, and all of the organs in Emma’s stomach shift again when he steps into the box and adjusts his helmet. Sprinkles of rain are falling down from the clouds and spitting against Emma’s skin, but it’s not enough to stop the game. Not yet. The momentum is with them again, the game and the championship on their bats, and Emma has never known Will to be scared of a little rain.

One. Two. Three.

A swing and a miss.

Strike One.

One. Two. Three.

No movement. Deep breath inhaled.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

No movement.

Strike Two.

“Damn,” Emma mumbles under her breath as she tightens the jacket a little further over her arms, her legs shaking and tapping enough to power the electricity in all of the Bronx. She’s going to break the chain around her neck for how tightly she’s tugging on it. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

It’s got to be all fine.

The water is spitting a little harder now, Emma’s vision getting a little bit blurred, and it’s taking everything in her not to stand up right now so that she blocks the people behind her. Ruby is chattering in her ear cursing or hoping or something, her phone is still going off, and Jeff has to be complaining about how much Emma is crushing his forearm.

She doesn’t care.

Because Will is standing in position again, and he’s ready.

One. Two. Three.

There’s a sharp blow when the ball makes contact with the bat, and while the rain and the stadium lights make it hard to see, Emma already knows that the ball is going over the back wall and into the crowd.

Gone. It’s gone.

It’s freaking gone.

Will Scarlet is an absolute legend.

The Yankees just won the World Series.

Killian just won the World Series.

Everything is so loud around her, cheers reverberating and shaking the stands so that Emma can literally feel sounds, but she has trouble focusing on any of that over the sound of her heart pounding in between her ears and Ruby yelling in her earpiece that Emma has to get down to the field.

The field.

She has to get down to the field, and somehow, she does. Jeff must have carried her there or pushed her or something. It’s a madhouse, one Emma can’t navigate, and she knows that she’s supposed to be doing some kind of interview, preferably with Will, but there’s no way for her to find anyone. It’s a mass of players all huddled together and jumping up and down as coaches and wives and children all join in, the rain coming down even harder than earlier.

All Emma really wants is to find Killian and kiss him like she’s never kissed him before.

That’s saying something.

Emma sees him standing ten feet away from her on the outskirts of a pile of men embracing each other in happiness, his hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it for the past two hours and his smile so large that it reaches his ears. He looks beautiful, ethereal almost, and Emma can scarcely breathe looking at him after pushing through so many people to find him.

That’s when he sees her through the people and the rain and the unending joy.

Killian pulls his arm up to tap his closed fist over his heart, and Emma’s heart stutters at the movement before a slow grin stretches across her lips while she reaches up to tap her fist over the ring and her heart.

She was cheering him on the entire time.

One. Two. Three.

Emma takes off toward him, ignoring Ruby in her ear and Jeff behind her with the camera, and in six strides, she’s pressing up onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, holding onto him so tightly that her feet come off the ground and Killian’s hands scramble for her ass, barely holding onto her as he lifts her in the air and swings her back and forth as they both get covered in the continual downpour of rain.

She can hardly see, the water far too much, and when she cups Killian’s cheeks and slams her mouth into his, he tastes like water and spearmint gum and quite possibly all of the happiness in the world bottled up into one human being.

Kissing him and being here with him is everything she ever wanted and everything she never allowed herself to dream.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan,” Killian laughs, his mouth still pressing against hers.

“What are you talking about, Jones? I was right here last year.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, the grin the most infectious thing she has ever seen, “but I think I like this year a hell of a lot better.”

“Can’t wait to see how you try to top this next year.”

Killian throws his head back in in laughter, his skin covered in rain, and he finally puts her down on the ground so that her feet sink into the soft grass below her, arms still wrapped around Killian’s neck so that she’s close enough to see the sparkle in his eyes and the smile on his lips.

“You know what, my love? I think I’m good staying right here in this moment for now. We can figure out the rest later.”

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ @397bartonstreet​

[onisiondrama]

PART 8 - video #14 & #15

(Click here for video mirrors)

[I just want to note: these are not my thoughts or words. I’m only summarizing what Greg / James is saying in his videos for people that don’t want to listen to him. I had a couple messages in my inbox from people who (I think) misunderstood what I’ve been posting, so I wanted to clarify I’m not defending Greg lol.]

the did nots

- Greg says someone named Kelly wrote him. He asked her to watch one of the many videos about him and tell him what the accusations were because he wants to address them because it’s easy and fun for him. - 4:25 His ex claimed she had a seizure and he was the cause of it. - He asks how could he be the cause of a seizure? Unless he hit someone over the head with a rock. Despite what people say about his brow, he’s not a caveman. - He didn’t call an ambulance and he recorded it for a Youtube video. - Greg says she faked the seizure. She had done it twice before. One of those times when he went to call an ambulance she popped up and snapped out of the seizure. If you met someone like that you’d understand, but it takes life experience to understand who they are. - 6:00 Claimed he groomed an underage person. - Says grooming isn’t calling someone a c-u-n-t. That’s like brushing your hair with razor blades and lemon juice. - 7:38 Greg targets vulnerable people. - Says it doesn’t make any sense. Are all these people damsels in distress? Are they incapable of defending themselves? Sarah was arrested for beating the crap out of a grown man. Not vulnerable, actually scary. So scary he spend the night in the garage because he was afraid she’d murder him. She had a full gremlin face. People like talking without knowing and call themselves reporters. - 8:31 Kai send and received explicit photos. - Says we no, Kai hates p-o-r-n. People make these claims with no evidence. You don’t have to give $20,000 to some a-hole, you just need legitimate concrete evidence. No one does that because no one has it. He’s seen people threaten to fake evidence. He’s seen screen shots of people who want to create fake evidence with deep fakes. If you wanted something done you should have talked to a lawyer and handled it privately, now the case is manipulated and contaminated. The livestreams contaminated everything. It’s a circus. - 8:00 Two people argued over who will take someone’s virginity. - He says “retarded” isn’t a good enough word for that. No one would argue about taking someone’s virginity unless you’re talking past tense. He says that’s totally different. They didn’t take her virginity. Kai did nothing and just layed there. [He talks about the crime against Sarah again.] People shouldn’t say Kai likes CP. That’s crazy, kids are disgusting. Nothing is attractive about them. Snot, my little pony obsession, backpacks, they don’t understand anything in the world. - 9:07 Claimed he instigated and had a threesome with someone then kicked her out shortly after she turned 18. - He says no. He says one person was receiving oral and he made love to the 18 year old but they weren’t kicked out shortly after. They were kicked out when they said he needs to impregnate them when they were “mano y mano” with each other in hopes the three of them would come together and be poly. He realized she didn’t care about the other person. - Greg abused his ex. - He asks if it’s the one that cheated on him and got pregnant with someone else’s baby? One time he called the cops on her because she threatened to kill herself and make it look like he did it. That person? Asks why no one considers the abuse toward him. Threatening to make it look like he murdered her is a crime. If he sold prescription pills, he’d be in jail. Sarah sold pills and she told him her mom tried to set her up to marry a guy for a green card and he’d pay her. Those are crimes. He thinks Sarah’s mom is innocent because after everything Sarah said about them they can’t believe anything. It’s loco Sarah shit. She admitted to doing cocaine too. - He dated Shiloh when she was underage. - He says you finally got something- [he cuts off and nods his head]. She was 17. They were both in areas it was legal and he was 24. The police looked into their relationship and checked stuff and they were good to go. Someone tried to get him in trouble, but he knew the law. When you love someone you don’t worry about taboo. - 11:08 Greg had an affair with her while he was still with Skye. - He says if his pp is 3,000 miles long maybe. He didn’t meet her until he filed for divorce. He says this person is an idiot and is spreading slanderous statements. How can you cheat with someone who is on the other side of the country? He laughs and says Skye’s last name isn’t Tantaga, that’s her username. He got a plane ticket when he was already filed for divorce. - 11:55 Shiloh may have been 16 when they first met. - He says he didn’t even talk to her until November 2010. He says look up her birthday she was 17 1/2. “Fucking facts yo.” Why don’t people care about the truth? -14:24 Greg made videos about ex girlfriends that were filled with lies. - He sarcastically says, “very specific, very proof.” No logic, just say “they lie.” - 22:17 Greg had photos from 12-17 in various states of undress on a forum. - Greg says you could just prove that if it’s true. Everyone forgets that website was 18+ and was heavily moderated. “Fucking idiot.” - 23:50 Greg removed forums because they were being investigated. - He asks what forums? He didn’t have forums and he doesn’t care about Hansen. He’s the one that called the cops on Hansen. The cops weren’t there for Chris Hansen, they told Greg to file an anti-harassment protection order against him. There’s nothing to fear. Chris Hansen is an old man and his last job contract wasn’t renewed because someone sued for $100 million and won. The only things to be afraid of are his douchiness and his creepiness. “Fuckin’ boomer.” - 26:10 Youtuber admits he gets more views when he talks about Onision. - Greg says finally something truthful. When this guy talk about anything that doesn’t have to do with Greg it’s like [thumbs down and laughs]. Greg tells them you know what you do and you don’t actually care. - Greg silences ex girlfriends by threatening to sue. - Greg asks when did this happen? He doesn’t remember that. If he did that it didn’t work. The girls are re-tweeting people threatening to burn his house to the ground. Sarah tweeted she wants to psychically attack him. He says she is going to be no one’s victim because she’s a fighter and he’s scared of her.  - Greg has 7-8 other victims, possibly more. - Greg says that’s a tough sell because these people aren’t his victims, they’re just people he dumped. He says it’s like high school when people break up and they start rumors about each other. Youtube is high school 2.0. - 29:00 Kai is a victim and was underage when the relationship started. - Greg says Kai was 17 1/2, but told Greg he was about to turn 18. When Kai revealed the truth Greg already fell for him. He doesn’t agree with the victim part because they’re still married. This Youtuber should let kai speak for himself and not speak for people and pretend to be their hero. “Douchebag” - 29:10 Greg violated the mann act, accuses him of human trafficking. - Greg says if that happened, then prove it. When and how did he violate the mann act? - 30:15 He forced someone into signing an NDA and forced her to remain silent after they kicked her out. - Greg says Sarah said she wouldn’t sign the NDA unless she gets what she wants, which was sex. Later on she apologized for r-a-p-i-n-g them. He doesn’t know if she denied it yet, but she probably will. What she did was extortion and was a crime. Says this guy should make a hate video about Sarah now if he really gave a shit. - Greg took advantage of Kai because he was a fan, but that’s subjective. - Greg says stop speaking for Kai. Nobody asked Kai. - Greg groomed Kai. - Greg gives the same response. He says Sarah said she wasn’t groomed. She said “if anything I groomed you” and they thought it was funny until it was real. - Kai had a tinder. - Greg says that was for a video. It was a joke. He calls the Youtuber a joke.  - Says he might respond to more because he doesn’t gibe a fuck anymore. He tells people to join OnisionFans.com to DM him questions.

oh my

- He apologizes from the heater noise. He says certain people get mad at him when he turns it off for videos because it makes the house cold. - He’s not sure if he’s being left now for speaking out. He doesn’t know what Kai is going to do now that he’s speaking out. - He wants to talk about the “investigation” (air quotes). He says he doesn’t take it seriously because he knows what actually happened. [Sarah NDA story for the 100th time] If an officer investigated the situation, he would arrest Sarah instead of Greg. Greg also has a witness who was also heavily pressured. You never heard this story from Sarah because she’s a fraud, a liar, she has BPD, she has a number of mental problems. Sarah wouldn’t say anything that would get her in trouble, but Greg said things that might get him into trouble about pressuring Kai. He did that because he felt bad for Sarah, but he should have had no sympathy for her like her mother. Her mother saw her for who she really was, one of the most toxic people he’s ever met. [Locked himself in the garage story.] When Sarah’s mad at you her eyes go from brown to black. - He says a lot of people will agree with him because it’s common sense. About Hansen and his crew, you don’t talk about a open investigations. You don’t try to monetize people’s pain when you’re trying to pursue them legally. You’re supposed to catch them by surprise.  - He says when Chris had a show about people who went after 12 year olds, Chris didn’t warn them and tell them he was looking into them. He didn’t make a 9 month series about how terrible they are, then tell them he’ll go to their house to get them. He says it doesn’t make any sense. - Chris is getting donations and ad revenue. These girls feel sorry for themselves because they were dumped. Now they’re vengeful and malicious and they want to get back at him because they probably still want to be with him. If he never dumped them, would they still be together? They never dumped him except when Shiloh dumped him for h-e-n-t-a-i. He thinks they would still be together. Why are they only mad at him after he rejects them? - Hansen is paid to say there is a crime here. Greg saw Hansen allegedly stated he didn’t care about any of them and just wanted money, but he doesn’t believe that. He also saw Hansen hired someone named Anonymous Gene to dox Greg and his whole family. Greg says that doesn’t make sense to dox his whole family. It takes an evil person to do that.  - When you have an investigation, you are supposed to stay silent then you catch them by surprise, take their stuff, and try to find something that would prove they’re guilty so they don’t have time to hide anything. - He has never spoken to Regina before as far as he knows. He thinks Regina is ugly. When Regina started talking to Kai when Kai was 17 so anything Regina has to say in nonsensical because of their ages. Kai denied anything was exchanged and isn’t interested in p-o-r-n. Kai is a beta male cuck, nervous, scared, anxiety disorder person, which is why he didn’t want Greg to talk about anything. Regina is a scumbag, horrible human. Regina is now working for Hansen and that’s a conflict of interest. You can’t have a witness work with someone who is making money going after someone. That’s absolute corruption. - Now people are saying they have evidence on him, they have a laptop. Spoiler alert, if you have evidence you tell someone they have it so they can get a warrant. It’s ridiculous because he has nothing of interest, but if he did the audience would have tipped him off forever ago. This was all handled horribly. He saw the other day he saw a public figure say”I hope we get this guy” with no evidence that Greg is guilty. You can’t do that, that’s slander. - The person who had the laptop before Sarah was a woman and she would have never looked at CP. It went from a woman, to another woman who apparently held onto CP for years, said she brought it to the police who did nothing, got it back, sent it to Vince, Vince sent it back. Vince got fired and changed Chris Hansen’s site to his mugshot. Greg says he was told Chris Hansen’s site now redirects to OnisionFans.com. He thinks that’s weird and funny. - Sarah started off by saying she was not groomed and only had her feelings hurt. Then people started working her up and her story progressively became something else. - This is the sloppiest investigation he’s seen in his life. He can’t believe the lack in professionalism. This isn’t a reality show, it’s real life. Greg is worried for Hansen because he put his whole career on this [he lists Hansen’s financial troubles] and if he doesn’t find something legit he’s screwed.  - [Sarah laying in his lap story.] Greg thanks Sarah for describing his junk as “perfect.” “It’s just so perfect.” [Sarah being loud story again.] He says she complained he didn’t use the wand on her after he broke up with her. [He shrugs.] Says he meant to but didn’t get around to it. - So your investigation is a guy who had sex with an 18 1/2 year old? This person sexually extorted and blackmailed them. You should investigate her. [He lists supposed crimes she committed.] Greg said she had no idea these were crimes until he told her. “Idiot.”

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (21/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I technically don’t have a horse in the race for the World Series that’s currently happening (tonight could be the last game 🙀), but since this lil’ universe exists because of @wellhellotragic​, I’ll be pulling for the Astros to actually win a game at home! 

@resident-of-storybrooke​ remains the best for reading these words, which include some more meeting of the fam jams! 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |

Tag list: @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @youraverageshipper​

-/-

New York City in the summer is both the best and the worst.

There are approximately a million things to do, which is pretty much always true for this city, but things seem to multiply this time of year compared to any other time. Well, maybe besides around Christmas, but then every street is so full of tourists that Emma can’t do anything for fear of losing her temper and yelling at a middle-aged couple simple trying to enjoy their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary trip.

Bah-humbug.

And as much as Emma likes the way she can wear her jeans with a cozy sweater and coat draped over her with a warm beanie covering her ears, summertime is pretty much the prime time for her with so many baseball games happening and with the US Open coming around at the end of August. But it is decidedly not the end of August since it’s more like the end of July, and all she feels right now is like a big puddle that’s ready to melt whenever she walks outside. Also, that she smells like garbage, but that’s more likely the city than her considering she showered this morning and used vanilla body wash that she can smell on herself.

As well as sunscreen.

And sweat. There is definitely some sweat involved despite the fact she is only wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top with a hell of a lot of deodorant. She literally has deodorant in her backpack next to her laptop and notebook full of stat sheets.

Her hair is really gross too despite the braid it’s in, and the game hasn’t even started. It’s going to be a long day. For a multitude of reasons.

David, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking toward her in the hallway is near the top of that list.

“Emma,” Leo gasps when he sees her, quickly running toward her and leaving his parents behind in the dust. He’s got on a Captain America shirt and the signed Killian Jones hat gracing the top of his head. They didn’t explicitly tell Leo that she and Killian are dating – kids being kids and not being able to keep secrets and all that – but he pretty much knows. And he’s definitely going to after this.

“Hi, bud,” she laughs, squatting down the slightest bit (he’s getting too tall) to wrap him up in a hug that she knows is far too tight. “Long time no see.”

“I saw you for dinner last night.”

“That is too long.”

“You’re clingy,” Leo scoffs before pulling back from her hug to look at her with those furrowed little brows of his.

“Clingy? Who taught you that word?”

“Mom said that about dad.”

“Hey,” Mary Margaret huffs, sliding her arm around Emma in greeting, “don’t be telling tales.”

“It’s true.”

“I’m clingy?” David questions, his forehead wrinkling when he raises his brows. “Since when am I clingy?”

“That’s a conversation for another time.”

“But I – ”

“Okay,” Emma claps, breaking up the argument that is very inevitably about to happen no matter how small it’s going to be, “so I’m going to show you guys to your suite before I have to go out onto the field for a bit.”

“Emma, I know my way around the stadium,” David grumbles like he always does when there is any implication that he does not know absolutely everything that he needs to know, but then he’s kissing her cheek in greeting and gently patting her back in that David way of letting her know that he’s teasing even when she already knows this. It’s, like, a whole full circle thing. “Why is it that you are taking us to a suite today instead of us just sitting in my seats?”

The scorecard keeps ticking higher on David mentioning his investment in baseball by mentioning his season-ticket seats, but honestly, she can’t even say anything.

“Because,” Emma sighs, wrapping her arm around Leo’s shoulder and pulling him forward, “you are a workaholic who needed to get out of the office and spend some time with your family, and I made some special arrangements for that. Also, it’s crazy hot outside today, and the suites have air-conditioning.”

They’re in one of the first suites that Emma comes to, and she unwraps her arm from Leo’s shoulder to flash her badge at one of the security guards in charge of the player family suites before a door is opened for them to go inside. Liam, Elsa, Anna, and Kris are already inside sitting down on the couches that are in front of the TV monitor, and Addy and Lucy are watching something on an iPad, pink headphones covering their ears.

“Emma, are those?” Mary Margaret asks, trailing off at the end.

“Yep, that’s Killian’s family.”

“But we haven’t even met Killian yet.”

“Oh,” Emma sighs, smiling a bit to herself at them reacting to this exactly the way that she knew that they would, “I know. He’ll be up here when he finishes with the game though, okay? I’m feeding him to the lion’s den while I’m working, but he’s going to take us all to dinner afterwards so that you guys can do your creepy interrogation like Liam did to me.”

“He did what now?” David fumes, reaching forward to gently grab her elbow while Liam himself turns around, finally spotting they they’ve entered the room.

Emma can’t help but roll her eyes while her stomach does that twisting thing that is pretty much becoming its trademark. All of these people are ridiculous. “It’s fine, David. It was a joke. But seriously. I might be in and out depending on how the game goes, but Killian is going to come up here after he finishes his cool down, and afterwards, we’re going out to dinner.”

“How is that going to work if you guys are keeping things quiet?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders, a little bit of nervous energy washing over her. It’s something she and Killian have talked about a lot in the past week now that everyone important knows about everything important, and while they’re still figuring things out, they’ve decided that it’s probably safe to go somewhere low key for dinner as long as they’re in a group. Maybe eventually they’ll be able to go to dinner with just the two of them without Emma looking over her shoulder. It’s not like Killian is Brad Pitt or anything, but her worries of being spotted are legitimate. She’s in a very happy little bubble right now, and even though a bit of it has been burst, it’s still holding strong.

She deserves this. Killian does too.

“We’ve got it figured out,” she tells David before walking toward Liam and greeting him with a hug and doing the same with everyone else. Killian’s family are a bunch of huggers, even for people they don’t know very well, and that’s something she’s figured out very quickly. “Okay, so I’m about to do some quick introductions, so everyone brace yourself.”

“David Nolan,” David interrupts, reaching forward to shake Liam’s hand in what Emma can tell is a far too hard handshake to show off some kind of weird masculine authority. “It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Liam Jones. And this is my wife Elsa, her sister Anna, and Anna’s husband Kris. The two munchkins ignoring us are my daughter’s Addison and Lucy, and I bet they will be great friends with your son.”

“How old are they?” Leo asks. “Because I don’t want to be friends with anyone younger than four.”

Elsa actually snorts while Mary Margaret’s intake of breath might as well be a sign that death is coming with how dramatic it was.

“Leo,” Mary Margaret admonishes, “that is not very nice. You should apologize.”

Elsa stops laughing to wave Mary Margaret away, a kind smile on her face. “It’s fine, I promise. I get it. The girls do stuff like that all of the time, and luckily for Leo, they are both a little bit older than that. Plus, Addy really likes Captain America too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why don’t you go over there and talk to her?”

Leo smiles and nods his head before sprinting over to the girls, plopping down on the couch hard enough that Addy and Lucy might as well bounce off of it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Mary Margaret says again. “He was stuck with me working with a bunch of younger kids the other day, and I think that’s scarred him.”

“It really is fine,” Elsa smiles. “At least he’s a kid and there’s a bit of an excuse. Anna here sometimes says things like that, and she’s an adult.”

“Only technically,” Anna laughs.

“This is true,” Kris adds in.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to talk about me like that.”

“What? It’s true. It’s how you are. You have the enthusiasm of a kid with a bag of skittles. It’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t supposed to say things like that when we’re trying to make a good impression with Emma’s family. We’re supposed to look normal.”

It’s Emma’s turn to snort and shake her head before reaching forward to squeeze Anna’s forearm. “There’s no such thing as normal, which I’m sure you guys will realize as soon as I leave you all here to make some awkward small talk.”

“There isn’t going to be anything awkward about it,” Kris smiles before bumping his hip into Anna’s, “unless Anna keeps talking.”

“You are something else today.”

“You guys are all something else,” Emma laughs, hoping to everything that this is going to go well. This isn’t something she’s ever really had to do before, and it’s kind of terrifying. “But I trust that you can all get along with your spouses, since that seems to be a problem today, and each other. Now I’m going to go sweat my ass off outside, but you guys have a good time up here. And if they bring in those cheeseburger sliders, save me some.”

With that, she turns to walk out the door, knowing she doesn’t have time to go through proper goodbyes with all of them (she’d be there forever), and quickly makes her way to the elevator so that she can get to the tunnels that are going to take her out to the dugout. She always loves the days where she gets to spend some time in there, to really get a behind the scenes feel at it all, and while she’s a bit wary of some of the players now, she knows that it’s all going to be fine.

This is a game, but it’s also a job.

Al nods his head at her when she pushes open the door and walks toward her designated spot at the end with the water cooler and bat racks. August and Lance greet her, the rest of the guys sitting around ignoring her, and she’s thankful when she finds Jeff already in his seat.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his legs shaking up and down.

“Hey, why do you look nervous?”

“I’m fucking hot.”

Emma laughs and takes her seat next to him, and Jeff hands her the microphone pack and her earpiece, which she immediately turns on even though she knows Ruby is probably about to bombard her with questions.

“We can go inside for a bit when the first inning is over. I don’t plan on being out here the entire time.”

“Thank you.”

Emma knocks her knee into Jeff’sJeff’s,but he ignores her and turns his head to look out at the field. He’s always such a character.

“So,” Ruby teases, her voice breaking through the static, “how did the meeting go?”

“Fine. I bolted pretty quick, though. Also, Rubes, we can’t really talk about this stuff while I’m working.”

“Why not – oh, wait, never mind. I got you. There are a lot of people around who can hear you.”

“Yep,” Emma sighs, shaking her head a bit, “so tell me what kind of coverage you want me to get for this game. Jeff and I are already dying of heat.”

“Fine,” Ruby grumbles, and Emma can practically imagine the roll of her eyes, “I guess I will give you instructions for your job instead of gossiping about your life.”

-/-

Killian only pitches three innings, and while it’s a bit unusual, Emma doesn’t think anything of it. They’ve got their first road game in Boston next week, and she imagines Al doesn’t want anything to happen to Killian’s arm. And there’s no reason for him to overexert himself when they’re so easily winning and have already got this series in the bag no matter what happens the rest of the afternoon.

Plus, he winks at her when she finishes doing a quick interview with him after he’s pulled from the game, and the smile on his face tells her everything that she needs to know about how good he’s feeling.

She hopes that he feels that way after he goes upstairs and meets most everyone.

They probably should have eased everyone into it, but honestly, she thinks Killian will be more comfortable with his family around.

“Are you going to make me do one of those Instagram filters again today?” Will questions, as he plops down on the bench next to her, tilting the water cup back and drinking it down in one gulp. “Or am I playing twenty questions? Do you want to talk about my wedding? Or maybe even the game?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Emma laughs before reaching up to fan her face and wipe the sweat from her brow. “You’re the worst.”

“Um, actually, I believe you quite like me.”

“That’s debatable.”

Will hums as there’s some shuffling in front of them with Arthur King reaching around Emma to get his bat and helmet. Anxious shivers run down her spine when she sees him now, and her entire body stiffens until there’s a gentle pressure on her forearm from where Will is squeezing it.

“Hey,” he whispers, dipping his head down to look up at her, his goofy grin replaced with a soft smile that she usually doesn’t see with him, “you okay?”

She nods her head, wishing that her stomach wasn’t twisting like this. “I’m fine.”

“He’s not going to say shit like that again, Emma,” Will promises as his hand squeezes her arm again. “You are a member of this team, just like me and Killian and Rob, and we’ve got your back no matter what happens. I don’t let people talk shit about anyone but especially my friends.”

“Are we friends now?”

“Jones told me that we had to be.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she still knocks her knee into Will’s, a smile curving at the corner of her lips. Who knew that Will Scarlet was going to be so in her corner this early on? Or at all.

“Thanks. I’ll let you pick the filter you use the next time I do Instagram stuff simply because of that.”

“Sounds like music to my ears.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t get any chances to go back up to the suite during the game, but afterwards, when she’s wrapped up all of her work stuff and told Jeff goodbye, she finds herself walking through the suite doors only to find Killian standing at the counter wrapping sliders in a paper towel while talking to David.

Should she focus on the fact that she knows that Killian’s wrapping those up for her even though she asked everyone else to do it or the fact that Killian is talking to David?

Probably both.

“Hey,” she says slowly, stepping up to the two of them so that they both glance over at her, small smiles gracing both of their lips. Okay, good, that’s a good sign. “How are things going?”

“Just dandy,” Killian tells her, lifting his arm so that she can step into his space and press up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Dave is telling me about how he makes me look good on TV.”

“Dave?” she questions, and all Killian does in response is brush a kiss over the hair at the crown of her head.

“That is not exactly what I was saying,” David clarifies. “Killian asked me about work, and I explained it to him. Him thinking that he needs help to look good is all on him.”

“I mean, I get it. I help him look good every week when I could very easily make him look awful.”

“You are so kind to me, darling.”

“I know.”

Killian smiles down at her in that way that makes her heart stutter and her breath hitch, and there are so many emotions flying through her right now that she’s not entirely sure what to feel. There are also a million questions she’s going to have to gulp down, and Emma already knows that she’s going to have to ask Mary Margaret or Elsa for all of the details how everything went.

She really, really, really  wants Killian and David to get along. That’s, like, everything to her even if she didn’t realize it when this whole thing started. Ruth and Mary Margaret will like anyone who is nice to her, but David has seen so much of the shit that’s happened in her life that he’s a little bit more particular.

Okay, a lot.

“Are these sliders for me?” she asks even though she already knows the answer.

“Aye. I figured you’d want something to eat on the way to the restaurant since I didn’t see you eat during the game. Were you avoiding it so as not to get on camera again?”

“Kind of. It was also too damn hot to eat.”

Killian’s lips tick up on the right, his brow arching high on his head, and she knows that there’s a dirty joke rumbling around in there. It must be hard for him not to be able to say it, but they are most definitely not at a comfort level where he can talk about having sex with her in front of David. In fact, it’s probably best if they never get to that comfort level.

“Dad,” Leo groans as he walks over to the them, “Mom said to ask you when we can go eat.”

“I think we can go now since Emma’s all finished with work.”

“Thank goodness. I thought I was going to starve to death.”

“You know, kid,” Killian laughs, dropping his arm from around Emma’s shoulder, “you sound a lot like your aunt.”

What can she say? She and Leo like to eat.

They go to a low-key pizza place six blocks over from Liam and Elsa’s townhome. All of them are so spread out in different boroughs of the city that it’s pretty much impossible to meet in the middle, but Liam suggested the place since he knows that it’s quiet and that the girls like it a lot. Emma’s honestly pretty nervous walking inside, Killian following right behind her with his hand ghosting over the small of her back. It’s odd to have been dating someone for this much time and never really been out with them, but this relationship is never going to fall into the category of ordinary anyways. It’s always going to be a little off and a little funky, and that’s fine with her because it works. She’s never been one to need to be wined and dined anyways.

And maybe she’s also nervous because of the fear that someone is going to see them and that connections are going to be made, but Elsa quickly talks to the hostess and has them moved to a large corner booth in the back that no one else in the restaurant can really see. Bless Elsa. Honestly and truly. Emma knew she would be great for how Killian always talked about her, but Emma had no idea that she was going to so quickly hit it off with the woman so that they almost feel like friends now too.

It’s been a week since they met, but everything goes so naturally that it feels like so much longer.

This isn’t her or her life or the way things usually go. Emma doesn’t just make friends with people she meets and doesn’t integrate her life with others. The only constant friend she’s had over the past six years that isn’t somehow quasi-related to her is Ruby – toss Graham in there too – and if it wasn’t for Ruby pretty much demanding that she and Emma get along, Emma would probably still think of the woman as just her producer.

How different life would be.

So Emma is definitely not the type of person to have multiple people texting her throughout the day or asking about plans, knowing and understanding that the rigorous game scheduling makes those plans kind of difficult to make. But here she is at a table with ten other people where the conversation is easily flowing from subject to subject because all of these people are making an effort to get along for she and Killian.

She’s got some pretty awesome people around her, the man whose hand keeps inching up on her inner thigh included.

Emma twists her head to look at Killian and tell him to stop teasing her by squeezing her thigh, but instead of seeing the smirk she was expecting, his free hand reaches up to cover his mouth as he yawns.

“Are you tired?”

Killian nods as he keeps yawning, small tears escaping the corners of his eyes, and when the yawn finishes, he has to keep blinking the tears away. “Exhausted. I could go for an entire vat of caffeine.”

“Or get an IV of coffee in your arm.”

“What?” he questions, very obviously not getting her reference.

“Gilmore Girls reference, twenty-nine,” Emma sighs, patting his hand on her thigh. “Gilmore Girls. I know we’ve talked about it before. You should watch it when you have time. It’s, like, a peak early 2000’s show. But you can skip the last season.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I inevitably forget about this conversation and the show.”

“Do you need to go home? We can leave whenever.”

“No,” Killian promises even though he yawns when he says it, “I’m good for a little while longer.”

“Is it past your bedtime?” Lucy asks quietly from her seat next to Emma.

“Do you think your uncle goes to bed before you, sweetie?”

“He looks sleepy. Do you want my pizza?”

Emma’s not exactly sure where the correlation is there, but that’s kind of how kids are. It’s much more entertaining than talking to adults sometimes.

“No, Luce,” Killian promises, leaning over Emma to talk to her, “I don’t want your pizza, but thank you. That’s very sweet. I think it’s past your bedtime though.”

“It’s not Lucy’s bedtime for another hour,” Addy helpfully adds in, much to the amusement of everyone else. “Mine isn’t until eight because I’m older.”

“Mine is at nine,” Leo says.

“I wish I could go to bed that early,” Elsa sighs as she reaches down to pick up her glass of water. “You guys don’t know how good you’ve got it sleeping that much.”

“I don’t like to sleep,” Addy laughs.

“Me either,” Leo says back to Addy, giving her a high five.

Mary Margaret is probably already planning their wedding or something ridiculous like that for how much fun they seem to be having. Actually, Mary Margaret is probably planning hypothetical weddings for several people at this table, but that is not something Emma is going to start thinking about. Nope. Not anywhere near to even being close to being ready and the little thoughts need to chill the hell out. So, if Mary Margaret is going to plan creepy hypothetical weddings, it can be her son’s.

They’ll probably have Captain America-themed plates with baseball hats and stuffed animals from the zoo lining the aisle.

Okay, now Emma is the crazy one.

Maybe she’s a little tired too.

“So, Killian,” David starts, very obviously changing the subject, “I mean to ask earlier, but why did Al pull you out of the game so early?”

Killian’s hand squeezes her thigh, nails digging into the skin a bit roughly, but then he’s letting out a breath and releasing her thigh so that he can scratch at his jaw. “Ah, preservation for the Sox series. Nothing to worry about. I wasn’t feeling top notch, and it’s better not to risk it, you know?”

“That makes sense. I feel like I spend so much time simply making sure things run smoothly on camera that I never get to actually pay attention to the game, so today was nice.”

“See,” Emma huffs, looking between the two of them and pushing down that little feeling of worry over Killian not feeling well today. It was probably just the heat. “I told you that it would be nice. You got all defensive about sitting in the suite.”

“To be fair, I had no idea we would be meeting Killian’s family today.”

“Yeah, hon,” Mary Margaret sighs before picking up a slice of pizza and taking a bite, “we were blindsided a bit, and apparently everyone else already knew.”

“I didn’t want you to prepare questions or some kind of actual interrogation or something else ridiculous beforehand. You have a tendency to be a little too much on the friendly scale.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do.”

“How?”

“Marg,” Emma laughs, “you probably would have been like Ariel and tried planning a vacation for all of us before you even shook Liam’s hand.”

“I would not have.”

“I bet if I looked at your phone right now there would be flights pulled up to Aspen or something.”

Mary Margaret narrows her eyes at Emma, but then Anna is clapping her hands together and making everyone look at her. “Oh, I just love this too much! I think a group vacation would be the most fun.”

Everyone starts laughing, and Killian picks up his bottle of beer to tilt at Anna. “Emma was right when she said that you and Mary Margaret get along swimmingly. It’s uncanny, actually, how similar you are.”

“Friendly people make friends, little brother.”

“Liam, I don’t know how many times I have to say that there is nothing little about me. Ask Emma.”

“Oh my God,” Emma gasps, reaching back to slap his chest, “no. We are not talking about that. You’re an idiot. There are children here.”

“To be fair,” Kris starts, and everyone turns to him, “they got here by the either little or not-so-little attachments we’re alluding to.”

Nothing like alluding to dicks to make a group of people come together.

Okay, that thought could be taken a lot dirtier than Emma intended, so it’s a good thing she’s not thinking out loud.

They all quietly leave the restaurant half an hour later, the conversation and laughter not at all slowing down for the rest of the time there. Maybe it was the bit of alcohol that most everyone had or maybe it was simply hitting a stride in conversation, but it doesn’t really matter. All Emma knows is that her stomach hurts from laughing and she’s got this smile on her face that she hopes stays for awhilea while.

“Today was nice,” Mary Margaret sighs as the two of them stand outside the restaurant while David and Killian settle the bill inside. “I like Killian a lot. I really like that he makes you smile.”

Emma blushes, and her smile increases despite her best efforts not to let it. Who in the world is this woman who is smiling all of the time? This is not her. But maybe it is now.

“You are such a mom, Marg.”

“Literally I am.”

“You know what I mean, though.”

“I do, I do,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around Leo’s waist and pulling him closer so that he doesn’t wander off the sidewalk and into the street. “But you’re basically my first baby even though this one came so close after I met you. All I want is for you to be happy, and that man makes you happy.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Emma,” Leo asks, looking up at her as the restaurant doors open behind him, “can I meet Will Scarlet now too?”

“We’ll see, kid,” Emma laughs. “We’ll see.”

“You ready to go, love?”

Killian walks over to her and moves to wrap his arm around her shoulder before stopping himself, eyes glancing to the few people around them, and Emma’s heart sinks at that. But she knows that this is for the best, and Killian not being able to wrap his arm around her shoulder when they’re about to get in the car isn’t that big of a deal. It’s really not a deal at all, and Emma pushes down her worries so that she can look up at Killian and smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

The two of them say their goodbyes to everyone else before walking two blocks over to find Killian’s car where it’s parked, Killian opening her door for her even when she insists that she do it herself so that Emma can quickly slide into the passenger’s seat.

“You and David took a million years to pay.”

“Did we?” Killian hums, very pointedly taking a little too long inspecting the gearshift.

“You did. Did he go all big-brother on you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Swan.”

“You, Killian Jones,” Emma scoffs as Killian pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street, “are a liar.”

“And obviously not a very good one either.”

Emma sighs as Killian twists his head and winks at her, a mischievous smile painted on his lips. “What did David ask you?”

“About my intentions with you.”

Groaning, she sinks down further on the leather seat, wondering if it’s acceptable to unbutton her shorts because she’s eaten pizza and cheeseburger sliders in the past three hours and has food babies inside of her stomach. Multiple. That’s how much she has eaten.

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Killian laughs, turning the blinker on before reaching over to grab her hand and bring her knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss there, the charmer.

“What’d you tell him?”

“That I love you and am very much in this for the long haul as long as you’ll have me. Now do you want to go to your place or mine?”

“Mine,” Emma tells him as her heart stutters in her chest at his words and all of the implications behind them. “Let’s go to my place.”

[alexsmitposts]

Anti-Racist Uprising Infiltrated by Extreme-Right Hooligans The city of Minneapolis is where it all began. It is where the last drop fell on the surface of a proverbial overflowing lake, causing the dam to burst, consequently starting to destroy the foundations of the empire. A death of just one single man can, under certain dreadful circumstances, put into motion the entire avalanche of events. It can smash the whole regime into pieces. It can fully rewrite history, and even change the identity of a nation. It can… although it not always does. George Floyd’s death became a spark. The city of Minneapolis is where the murder occurred, and where the ethnic minorities rose in rage. But it is also where white extreme right-wing criminals, and some even say, entire regime, perpetrated the uprising, kidnapped what could have become a true revolution and began choking legitimate rebellion by a stained duvet of nihilism and confusion. Here, we will not speculate. We will not point fingers at “deep state” or some multi-billionaire families, and to what extent they have been involved. Let others do this if they know details. But this time, I simply came to listen. And to pass to the world what I discovered first hand and what I was told. This time I simply went to Franklin Avenue and Lake Street, both in Minneapolis. I spoke to Native American people there. To those who joined forces with the African-American community during those dangerous days after May 25, 2020. To people who dared to defend their neighborhoods against brutality against white gangs, which came to loot, infiltrate, and derail the most powerful uprising in the United States in modern history. *** Bob Rice is a Native American owner of Pow Wow Grounds, a local entrepreneur, and a ‘community protection organizer.’ His legendary café is located on Franklin Avenue. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been reduced, for the time being, to a takeaway business, but even as such, it is enormously popular among the Native Americans, as well as others. At the back of the cafe is huge storage, full of food. Everyone hungry, in need of help, can simply come here and take whatever he or she needs. We grab some freshly brewed coffee from the shop and take it out to the public benches outside. Bob Rice then begins his story: “There has been police brutality for a very long time, against people of color. Not only talking about Minneapolis but in all these other places, since the 1991 Rodney King incident. Things were boiling and building up – leading to a big blow up.” “And all this discrimination did not start here; it came centuries ago from Europe.” “After the George Floyd murder, I wanted to show solidarity. Native Americans were experiencing an even higher degree of persecution than Black people. We had to stand together. I went down to the site of the murder of George Floyd, in order to support protests.” For a while, we talked about the mass media in the United States, an official and even some ‘independent one,’ and how it quickly and violently turned against the left, as well as against those who have been daring to expose endemic racism in the United States. But soon, we returned to the events that took place here, in May and June. “I noticed the presence of strange elements right from the start. I was watching guys breaking windows. At about 6 am, the morning after, I traveled down to South Minneapolis. There were piles of rocks in front of the rioters. Flash hand grenades. I kept on moving around the areas and kept on seeing rocks. I noticed the Minneapolis Umbrella Man, dressed all in black, with mask and black umbrella and black hammer smashing things – at the end being stopped by black guys. People were walking out of the store with car parts, and I thought, “why stealing those things”? These guys didn’t seem to be as part of the protest. I started moving and going away from the area, thinking that these guys would burn down stores and places soon. I even called up my insurance company the following morning to see if my policy covers civil unrest. That night they burned a lot of stores – auto stores, liquor stores, all types of businesses. I thought that if we do not do something ourselves to protect our neighborhoods, they will burn down all of our areas, too.” “From what I saw, I couldn’t tell you who these guys were, but they were not from here. So, we put up our protection zone calling out people on Facebook. We became the Headquarters of protection of Native American businesses and nonprofit organizations, as well as banks, shops, investment properties, etc. all belonging to the Native American community around here. I noticed there were Caucasian people, driving cars very slowly with no license plates, yelling racial slurs out of the windows. We formed a human shield, chain, along Franklin Avenue, to protect ourselves and our people. At a high point, about 300 people were protecting the area all night long for about eight days in a row. It had to be done, because here we had people from all over, including Wisconsin, descending on us – we had white supremacist group Proud Boys here. They arrived wearing masks. We had young white kids – 16 and 17 years old – coming from Wisconsin, looting liquor stores. We caught them. Obviously, they came out here because they thought it was an exciting thing to do. They didn’t even know where they were – this area is very dangerous with drug dealing and gang violence at night. Lucky, they got caught by us.” And the coverage? I wanted to know whether these events, in the heart of Native American neighborhoods, were described in depth by media reports. Bob Rice replied readily: There was no media reporting on these matters – mass media blamed everything on the Black Lives Matter movement. When liquor stores and tobacco shops were on fire, no police or fire trucks were around. Then the National Guard took over – using tear gas. Mr. Rice sighed, still in disbelief: Just incredible how our so-called President has done all the mess going and even made it worse! *** Robert Pilot, Native Roots Radio host, drove me for days all around the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, explaining what really took place on both Franklin Avenue and Lake Street. But before, we visited provisory, impromptu monument, where the murder of George Floyd took place. There were flowers, graffiti, works of art; there was grief, and there was solidarity. Native American people clearly supported the plight of the African-Americans. The area was safe; it was well organized. People of all races came here to pay tribute to the murdered man, and centuries of atrocious history of the United States. As we drove, Robert Pilot explained: “Native American neighborhoods armed themselves after the Floyd murder. But not only that: economic hardships ensued after the murder; food banks have come up. The Pow Wow Grounds used to be a food distribution deport but ended up becoming a food bank for anyone to donate and get what they need. Protesters were everywhere; the young generation got fed up. So different from other murders. The last straw was the murder of George Floyd. Four years earlier, in 2016, Philando Castile, an African American man, got murdered by police. He had worked in a school cafeteria. His murder was broadcast live on Facebook. It was a buildup. 10,000 people protested on 38th Street and Chicago in Minneapolis – the site of the murder of George Floyd. Combination of racial and overall frustration.” We drove by burned stores, services, gas stations. Everything was resembling a war zone, and in a way, it was. If you are there, things are extremely raw, emotional. It is not like analyzing things from a distance from the comfort of one’s home. Robert continued explaining, as we drove by block after block of the Middle East-style combat destruction: “There is a small percentage of African American people as compared to White Americans. We need allies, too. We have to support each other. Signs everywhere in my neighborhood, ‘Black Lives Matter.’” “Some young white people have woken up. They see the truth. The opinion of the masses is moving to the left; they are feeling fed up with what is happening around them and what it is that the country is doing to the world because of oil. What is interesting is that there is a protest every single day, which is something new and mind-blowing. The media is misreporting, minimizing the enormity and magnitude of protests, CNN, MSNBC, etc.” Robert Pilot is not only a radio host, but he is also a teacher: “White teachers are still teaching history; they are teaching it to black and Native American kids! Political standing of my students – a few are engaged, but definitely not all. Perhaps 10 percent of people are engaged and doing the work for 90 percent. The white guilt now and then… But many of us feel: You should stand behind us and with us but not in front of us. Revolution is happening in that sense. Everything is changing since protests are happening.” Not everyone likes the changes; definitely not everyone. The establishment is fighting back, trying to survive, in its existing, horrid form. Robert Pilot concludes: “Generally, Black and Native Americans are together, supportive of each other. It is symbolic that the Native American movement started on Franklin Avenue, where protests began in 1968. We would never burn down our own stores like grocery stores and hospitals. Why should we? But we had to mobilize and stop members of the KKK and Proud Boys type of guys.” *** We drive some 100 miles north, in order to meet Ms. Emma Needham – a young Native American activist. Emma was kind enough to bring traditional medicine from her area. We met halfway at the Sand Prairie Wildlife Management Area. Before our encounter, along the highway, we are surrounded by true ‘Americana’: endless open spaces, half-empty highways, more than 100 car-long cargo train pulled by two monstrous engines, while pushed by yet another one. We pass by St. Cloud Correctional Facility – an ancient-looking prison that bears the resemblance of some massive medieval English mansion surrounded by an elaborate system of barbed wires and watchtowers. MI734854 In one of the towns along the road, there is a big makeshift market selling posters, T-shirts, and other memorabilia, all related to the current President. It is called Trump Shop. Big banners are shouting at passing cars: “Trump, Make America Great Again,” “Trump 2020 – No More Bullshit,” and “God, Guns & Guts Made America. Let’s Keep All Three”. Emma is a storyteller, a writer. She is an intelligent, outspoken, sincere, and passionate person: “Where we were, we did not see a lot of white men with masks attacking, but what we did see were two young white kids, around 16, from Wisconsin, looting a liquor store which was run by Native Americans.” “I stayed over Friday and Saturday nights around the Indian American Cultural Center in Minneapolis. On Friday night, within half a mile to a mile in all directors, we could see and hear the riots and looting. There were gunshots, helicopters hovering all around us. But nobody came to rescue us.” “On Saturday night, we could see white people on Jeeps, waving flags, cruising around the neighborhood. “The white kids from Wisconsin were there, it appeared to me, opportunistic grabbing whatever was available.” “Majority of those who came to protest and loot were outsiders, not from the neighborhoods. It does not make sense for people in Minneapolis to burn down and loot stores they rely on.” I wanted to know whether the Native Americans and African-Americans were helping each other in that difficult hour? Emma did not hesitate: “There was big solidarity between Black people and Native American people; there was empathy.” “It has been lifelong degradation for many of us growing up poor and severely marginalized in reservations, but we had never seen anything like this, so close to what resembled a war. Those of us who were down in North Minneapolis those nights – Friday and Saturday – could not find words to describe what was happening. But we had a strong sense that what has been happening to us, Native Americans was happening to Black Americans, too – 400 years of surviving in a system of oppression. Enough is enough! Shared horrors – same for both groups!” I asked whether everything changed, and this is a new beginning for the nation? As many, Emma did not sound overly optimistic: “A black American female artist once said, ‘I love my white friends, but I don’t trust you because I know when the time comes, you need to choose your skin color. You count on the freedom and safety which you have. Whether you make that conscious decision or not, it will be there for you.’” *** On my behalf, Robert Pilot asked Brett Buckner, his fellow radio host, and an African American activist, whether he could confirm that the majority of rioters were whites and not from the community. He replied: “I would say so. Based on police reports and accounts from the community members, most of the damage was done by outsiders. Unfortunately, their actions will cause our community pain for years and even decades to come.” *** Before I finished writing this report, “Umbrella man” got ‘identified.’ On July 29, 2020, Daily Mail wrote: “Masked “Umbrella Man” who was seen smashing windows of Minneapolis AutoZone that was later burned to the ground during George Floyd protests is identified as ‘Hells Angels gang member with ties to white supremacist group’… The Star Tribune reported the 32-year-old man has links to Aryan Cowboy Brotherhood, a white supremacist gang based in Minnesota and Kentucky.” He was one of many, but the most notorious one. Looking at his photos when in action, he was bearing a striking resemblance to ‘ninja’ looking rioters – right-wing hooligans – who were unleashed in order to bring chaos to Hong Kong, people who have been supported and financed by Western governments. I know, because I work in Hong Kong, since the beginning of the riots. Coincidence? And if not: who really ‘inspired’ whom? *** Before I left Minneapolis, Robert Pilot and his wife Wendy interviewed me on their Native Roots Radio. What was supposed to be just 30 minutes appearance ended up being a one-hour event. They showed me their city and their state, sharing sincere feelings and hopes, unveiling suffering of both African American and Native American communities. This time, I traveled to the United States in order to listen. But I was also asked to talk, and so I did. During the interview, I took them to several parts of the world, where black people still suffer enormously, due to Western imperialism and corporate greed. The world where Native people of Latin America, Canada, as well as other parts of the Planet, are brutally humiliated, robbed of everything, even murdered by millions. We were complimenting each other. Our knowledge was. I am glad I came to Minnesota. I am thankful that I could witness history in the making. I am also delighted that I observed solidarity between the African American and Native American people. For centuries, both went through hell, through agony. Now, they were awakening. Minnesota is where the latest and very important chapter of American history began. But I also went to Washington, D.C., Baltimore, New York City, Massachusetts. I witnessed protests, anger, despair. But there was also hope. Hope, despite tear gas and riot police, lockdowns, despite mismanaged COVID-19 and increasing poverty rates. Something was ending, something unsavory and brutal. Whether this could be considered a new beginning was still too early to tell. In Minnesota, I chose to see events through the eyes of Native Americans, people who were here ‘forever,’ to whom this land used to belong. People who were exterminated by the “new America,” by European migrants, in a genocide that claimed roughly 90% of the native lives. These were people who were robbed of their culture and their riches. I am glad; I am proud that I chose this angle. True peace, true reconciliation can only come after history as well as reality are fully understood, never through denial. Now, both African Americans and Native Americans are speaking, and the world is listening. It has to listen. At least this is already progress. These two groups are forming a powerful alliance of victims. But also, an alliance of those who are determined to make sure that history never repeats itself.

[leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (by me)

ZEITUNG ONLINE 11/11/19

Interview: Rabea Weihser

https://www.zeit.de/kultur/musik/2019-11/conchita-wurst-tom-neuwirth-queen-of-drags-heidi-klum

Conchita Wurst : "For me as a man, this is very difficult to discuss"

Is drag cultural appropriation? Tom Neuwirth alias Conchita Wurst sits on the jury of the new Heidi Klum show "Queen of Drags" and must hear many allegations.

Tom Neuwirth just turned 31 years old. At 17, he reached the second place in the Austrian talent show "Starmania" and was a member of the boy band Jetzt Anders for a short time ! In 2012 he took part in the Austrian preselection for the Eurovision Song Contest (ESC) for the first time in the guise of his art figure Conchita Wurst. The protest was big: Should a woman with a beard represent the country? Two years later he tried again and won the biggest singing competition in the world for Austria. Now Neuwirth has gotten rid of the long hair and released his third album "Truth over Magnitude". As of November 14, he will appear on the screen of the casting show "Queen of Drags" alongside Heidi Klum and Bill Kaulitz on ProSieben. Since the announcement, there has been strong criticism of this broadcast format - especially from the queer community. How does Neuwirth handle it? We meet him in October in a hotel in Berlin, he sits down and hums a happy fanfare.

ZEIT ONLINE: Mr. Neuwirth, you have short hair and now appear as Wurst, without Conchita. From the press release for your new album, we take that is now your "masculine-edged" contrast program. Does it always need an art figure that embodies a certain facet, or at some point you can sometimes say, "My name is Tom Neuwirth and that's all"?

Tom Neuwirth: I have the feeling that I am now as close to my private person as never before. Maybe last was when I was 17 and at Starmania. I constantly get the question: Is it him or her now? I then always entice myself to open a drawer to explain to people what is actually going on. In the end, it's just me, and sometimes with a wig, sometimes without, sometimes masculine, sometimes feminine.

ZEIT ONLINE: Without this glamorous costuming you are probably much more approachable, even for the fans.

Neuwirth: Of course, I notice that without the wig the situations in which people recognize me become more and more frequent. And I'm not sure how funny that is. Barbara Schöneberger once said that she would not be recognized on the street if she did not wear make-up. I'm trying that too. (laughs out loud)

TIME ONLINE: Not really, right?

Neuwirth: Of course it's a double-edged sword. I have understood in recent years: The lightness and the world in my head are not always compliant with a First Lady Conchita in a pencil skirt and well-shorn hair. What I'm doing now is part of my personality that I have not lived up to now in a female appearance. I've always danced to electro music privately and thought to myself: Why do not I make music that I like?

ZEIT ONLINE: Does Truth over Magnitude mean a musical cut or is it more in your production?

Neuwirth: I had created a President's wife and worked and lived according to this protocol. I lost myself after the song contest. Musically, of course, it's a different sound, although on my first studio album, I already had numbers that were relatively electronic. But they did not get that much attention. And so, yes: it was probably the larger cut optically. It was the bald spot. It freed me.

ZEIT ONLINE: With this bald head you were in February at the side of the Austrian Minister of Justice Josef Moser (ÖVP) at the Vienna Opera Ball. When you won the ESC as a bearded lady five years ago, especially conservative politicians made a derogatory remark. Heinz-Christian Strache, Vladimir Putin, Jarosław Kaczyński ...

Neuwirth: Everyone was there. Thanks for the attention. (Laughs)

ZEIT ONLINE: How do you assess the situation of trans people and homosexuals in Europe today? Could you do something with your presence?

Neuwirth: I think that something has changed in the media mainstream. Even when I talk to teenagers, I notice a sensibility that I did not know before - that's when I'm being reprimanded when I say something wrong. And that, I think, is a beautiful development. But I tend to forget that I live in a bubble too.

ZEIT ONLINE: We have to talk about the great mustard yellow lacquer stilettos you are wearing right now.

Neuwirth: You can tell that I'm from Los Angeles. I looked at myself today and thought: Ah, there is a bit left over!

ZEIT ONLINE: You were in California to shoot with Heidi Klum and Bill Kaulitz the new ProSieben show Queen of Drags. This is a format inspired by Ru Paul's Drag Race, a talent show for drag queens that is very successful in the USA.

Neuwirth: Let's say what it's like: Ru Paul's Drag Race has shown a growing generation that individualism is great. This has been consumed in my community for ten years. And that has also made us a bit stronger. But when I see a couple of two women or two men in Vienna, I think it's nice, but I still notice how special that is. And I believe, as long as that is still the case, we can not say that there is equality.

ZEIT ONLINE: The German audience knows Dragqueens rather in the form of Olivia Jones, Lilo Wanders or Mary from the jam advertising. They called them Tunten and always liked to bring them as birds of paradise in front of the camera, if it should be colorful or even slippery. So, if you've only seen this before, you may be wondering, what is Drag?

Neuwirth: We all make drag. We go out in the morning with our worklook, our working face, and that is already a form of metamorphosis. In this culture of stage performance, drag is a total work of art by a person who must have an incredible number of talents. In the most understandable sense, it is the illusion of a female figure.

ZEIT ONLINE: ... portrayed by someone born in the body of a man?

Neuwirth: Not mandatory. There are also women who make drag. There are also heterosexuals who make drag. There are no limits, and that's great. At Queen of Drags, we have guys who portray their version of a female illusion. This is sometimes very close to reality, with beard, others have rather created an alienesque being. I said to all my friends, they have to try dragging once.

ZEIT ONLINE: Why is that important?

Neuwirth: This mask you put on makes you uncompromisingly yourself.

ZEIT ONLINE: If you put them back then ...

Neuwirth: No. Quite simply said: You disguise yourself and this shield is a bit unrestrained. You have other conversations, you are safer in your skin. One alienates and then comes to himself. The next day, when the make-up is down, you may not be as sassy as last night. But you have learned something emotionally, and you take that with you. To see how far your own character is, how much fun you can have with you: this is one of the most beautiful experiences you can do.

ZEIT ONLINE: Cologne Carnivalists would probably say so synonymous. Is it important for this borderline experience to change into the opposite sex?

Neuwirth: No. But the illusion of the opposite sex is a bit stronger than, for example, a toadstool costume. Because, in this case, you get in touch with your female side, which is what many boys do not do, gay or heterosexual.

ZEIT ONLINE: Drag is really a pretty committed subculture. Were you traveling in this scene before you thought up Conchita Wurst?

Neuwirth: I think I was in Drag for the first time when I was 15. I went out and never felt better and more comfortable. The Drag scene in Austria is not really big, but I was looking for my stages somehow. I moderated or sang shows, danced wherever I was allowed to. When I took part in the preliminary round of the Song Contest for the first time in 2012, suddenly there were so many opportunities for me. And I was allowed to travel. Here in Berlin, I met and understood Barbie Breakout, Melli Magic and Gloria Viagra: Ah, that's the sisterhood that everyone is talking about. I love this drag community so much because we can all be a little bit more than we want. With all our emotions and sensitivities and our ego sense of being. But when the going gets tough, we stand up for each other.

ZEIT ONLINE: Every year at carnival time is discussed whether in view of the colonial history, children are still allowed to disguise as Native Americans. Miley Cyrus was scolded in 2013 because she was twerking, and actually only black women with round butts do. Canada's Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is in for trouble because he went to the carnival 20 years ago with a dark face as Aladdin. If one wishes to continue this thought, one could also call drag a kind of cultural appropriation: men, who are generally in a stronger social position than women, play womanhood for entertainment. How do you see that?

Neuwirth: That's very interesting. And in certain parts that's probably true. I also found myself in situations when I worked with colleagues and the press afterwards wrote: I was great and she was vulgar. Then I realized: Oh, I'm still a white man. This imbalance prevails and it is absolutely right to think about it. It is true in part, it is an appropriation. But I think skin color is not a costume.

ZEIT ONLINE: What fascinates you about this appropriation of femininity?

Neuwirth: I was raised by strong women, I love women. The first almost 20 years of my life I listened almost exclusively to female singers, everything else I found boring. Empress Elisabeth or Maria Theresia were also such inspiring personalities, and that cultures inspire me is just as legitimate. But it is incredibly sensitive and difficult to handle properly.

ZEIT ONLINE: A flow of feminism criticized the Drag especially the representation of exaggerated female characteristics, while fighting for equal rights and reduce gender stereotypes. In modern societies, men become slightly more feminine and women more masculine. Why does the drag scene love the conservative female look?

Neuwirth: I breathe individualism. And I would find it terrible if suddenly we were all unified. I'm not concerned about gender roles. My point is that everyone recognizes his own color and paints himself with it. But why should not an overly feminine woman like Pamela Anderson be a feminist?

TIME ONLINE: This feminist current would now answer: she can not be a feminist because her looks are based on the satisfaction of the male sex drive. If she keeps dressing like that, she betrays women fighting toxic manhood.

Neuwirth: But why ... For me as a man, this is very difficult to discuss because I will never understand it authentically.

ZEIT ONLINE: This is the core of the discussion about cultural appropriation. The social or psychological pressure on marginalized people can not be understood from the outside. Do you have the right to disguise yourself as her?

Neuwirth: How could one find an answer to that? I put on clothes, because I find it stunningly beautiful. And not because I think about stepping on someone's neck ...

ZEIT ONLINE: ... or, if you agree with the image of those who may find it beautiful?

Neuwirth: Yes! I'm sorry, in my world it's all about me. I have only one life and I would like to have it as nice as it gets.

ZEIT ONLINE: The criticism of your participation in Queen of Drags must have met you. Especially drag queens have publicly lamented the sell-out of their subculture. Is not it also a kind of cultural appropriation by Heidi Klum, who is not a drag queen, to profitably use this subculture as an entertainment program?

Neuwirth: Maybe. I take this opportunity to bring the drag theme into mainstream and find that Heidi, even if she is not from that scene, has an absolute right to judge a performance. She comes from entertainment and is probably one of the most famous German-speaking people. Would this format have been achieved without her? Maybe not now, or maybe never. Or maybe on a slot, where nobody would have been interested. She is of course a multiplier and a very sensitive one. The criticism was incredibly loud, and I was a little bit confused, because our community always strives to be inclusive, inclusive and without prejudice towards people.

ZEIT ONLINE: I read a quote from the drag queen Dita Whip regarding the jury constellation: "Finally Conchita Wurst will sit next to the extrovert over the top Heidi and watch, powerless how Klum and ProSieben clog their pockets at the expense of queer culture."

Neuwirth: (laughs softly) I would not let that "powerless" stand. (laughs louder) I talked to my friends because I too needed to be sensitized, especially with regard to this cultural appropriation. I am relatively naive and draw my inspiration from everything I see and experience. I was told that financial enrichment was the main problem. And I can understand that for a while. I hope, but also that our Queens have careers according to this format and can do what they like most every day. I focus on that. Not that this statement is now total nonsense, but I think the truth is in the middle.

ZEIT ONLINE: Can I accuse you of opportunism?

Neuwirth: opportunism? I need a translator now, please.

ZEIT ONLINE: Once you said in an analogous sense: Maybe my career will last another 20 years, I just take everything with me. Let ProSieben pull you out of the car to bring credibility to the show?

Neuwirth: Oh, opportunism!

ZEIT ONLINE: There is money, attention, airtime. Is it justified to offend parts of the sisterhood? Or say, "Yo, run with me, that's the business"?

Neuwirth: I have received many such inquiries in the last few years. It took us until we got to the point of being able to realize this show. And I'm probably not an opportunist. I'm just fired up if anything interests me. I am a drag race fan and I come back from L.A. with a full heart. Of course it's a huge show and I love to be in the limelight, I love being in the spotlight. At the same time, I consider myself selective and do not do everything. I hoped that this project would be more personal to me than just a TV show. And that's what it actually has become. It was so much fun that I just hope it translates to the audience. It was just awesome.

[idasessions]

Famous Muses & Groupies in Rock Music Pt. 39

GROUPIE: Pamela des Barres (born Pamela Ann Miller)

So you might be wondering why, nearly 40 posts into this series on muses and groupies, I haven’t focused on the queen bee herself yet. Well to be completely honest, it’s because I don’t like her I figured everyone already knows her story, lol. But I might as well give it a go just for the sake of continuity. Pamela was born on September 9th, 1948 in Reseda, CA to a housewife and a gold miner. She grew up in the San Fernando Valley right in the middle of where the first wave of rock music history was taking place. She passionately fangirled Elvis Presley, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Paul McCartney was her blueprint for the perfect boyfriend as a teen, and in her first memoir I’m with the Band (1987), Pamela claims she got an ‘A’ on an art project by drawing Mick Jagger’s crotch (….). She quickly met her first musician through high school classmate Victor Hayden—who just happened to be Cpt. Beefheart’s cousin. Through Victor, Pam got to go backstage and to local parties where she met Frank Zappa, the Byrds, the Stones, the Doors and Steppenwolf when she was 16-19 in 1965-68.

Even though she had been meeting and befriending rockstars since 10th grade, Pamela says she was mostly a virginal groupie in the late 1960s, and didn’t sleep with any of them as a minor. With a couple of intimate exceptions—like making out with Jim Morrison when Pamela Courson wasn’t around—Pamela didn’t lose her virginity until she was 19. The guy ended up being bassist Nick St. Nicholas of hard rock band Steppenwolf, and she claims the experience was ~just okay (i.e. she barely remembers it). Since then, Pamela went on to casually date and randomly hookup with stars in the 1970s like previous art class subject Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin, Keith Moon of the Who, Noel Redding of the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Chris Hillman of the Byrds, Gram Parsons, and Waylon Jennings. Her first and only husband would be Michael des Barres of the B-list rock bands Silverhead and Detective from 1977-1991. Her only child, son Nicholas, was born on September 30th, 1978. She also went through a movie star phase and went on dates with former child actor Brandon de Wilde, TV star Don Johnson, comedian Michael Richards (??) and comic-turned-filmmaker Woody Allen (?!?!).

For work, Pamela had random jobs around the Sunset Strip from waitressing and retail to TV hosting and B-movie acting. After she finished school, she briefly babysat Frank & Gail Zappa’s kids and became part of Frank’s side project Girls Together Outrageously (AKA, the GTOs). The group was comprised of local LA County groupies as an experiment to see if they could make their own music too (spoiler: they can’t). During this period, Pamela went by the moniker ‘Miss Pamela’ or just ‘Ms P.’ The girls broke up after only two years together (1968-70) and one album released, ‘Permanent Damage’ (1969). Pam and fellow GTO Lucy Offerall both later had cameos in Zappa’s cult film 200 Motels (1971) alongside Ringo Starr, Keith Moon and Mark Volman. In her late 30s, Pam was inspired to take up writing after gossip journalist Stephen Davis told her she was a good storyteller while interviewing her for the (awful) Led Zeppelin biography Hammer of the Gods (1985). Soon she went on to coin the first ever groupie memoir in 1987 called I’m with the Band, which quickly gained notoriety in the music community. Since then, she’s written three more memoirs: Take Another Little Piece of My Heart (1993), Rock Bottom (1996), and Let’s Spend the Night Together (2007). In modern times, she occasionally writes featured columns for publications, her own blog posts and has her own ‘groupie’ fashion line. She’s also still friends with GTO pal Miss Mercy and fellow Led Zep groupie Michele Overman.

But how does she feel about carrying the title of ‘the most famous groupie in the world?’ Well, it’s complicated. Pamela claims the first time she ever heard of the word ‘groupie’ was by a Zeppelin roadie at a Hollywood party in 1969. For a decade she battled with people labeling her the ‘G’ word, as she tried to be taken seriously and not viewed as a slut. But by the time she was writing her books, she changed her tune since it’s the only reason anyone knows who she is. She even goes as far as to argue that groupies are the ‘real’ muses of rock music and feminist. 😒 Another little issue that occurred after living it up in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s. There was a new, wilder, less legal breed of groupies in town: baby groupies (or the Star Girls). Teen girls between ages 13-17 who were ~stealing all the rockstars from the 20-something, seasoned groupies like Pamela and Bebe Buell. In 1971, while Pamela was dating Don Johnson, she noticed that 14-year-old Melanie Griffith was hanging around his film sets and neighborhood a lot. Soon ‘a lot’ became all the time, and Don infamously dropped Pam for Mel. Then only two years later the same shit happens again, when Zep guitarist Jimmy Page ditched Pam at the English Disco for 14-year-old Lori Maddox in 1973. (BTW, Jimmy wasn’t even legitimately with either of them. He was living with French model Charlotte Martin. Oh, and Jimmy and Pam’s husband Michael were friends at one point and Jimmy would hang out at their house sometimes…awk.) Now seen as ‘old,’ or ‘over the hill’ as queen baby groupie Sable Starr apparently called her, Pamela went through an existential crisis at age 25 about her exes leaving her for literal school girls.

But rather than, I don’t know, raising her standards on men, she spends the next 30 years shaming these teen girls for being man-stealers or something. In I’m with the Band, she’s a lot more forgiving of Melanie and even claimed they’re friends now, but she still held a grudge at Lori. Then sometime in the mid-2000s, Pamela and Lori are suddenly ~good friends and Lori is subject of a chapter of Let’s Spend the Night Together. When David Bowie died in 2016, Pam finally started publicly stating that teen groupies are unethical. But then #metoo blew up in 2017, and it quickly occurred to people that in an environment where sexism and sexual misconduct are being re-evaluated; music stars getting one-night stands and random blow jobs while partying with young women anywhere from 13 to 30 years old started sounding really, hella sketchy. Instead of owning up to the culture being outdated, Pamela doubled down hard on groupie-ism, defended the statutory rape with the baby groupies, and thinks ‘sex, drugs and rock & roll’ isn’t an issue. In most of her interviews from 2018, like on “Ken Boxer Live,” and in Women Wear Daily, NME and The Big Issue Magazine; she says she’s ‘bored’ with being asked about #metoo and that it’s a whole different vibe in the music industry. (I’m sure the women accusing R. Kelly, Ryan Adams and Russell Simmons of abuse agree.)

I’m sorry, but you can’t claim being a groupie is feminist, and at the same time say all that shit and brag about giving hickeys to Jim Morrison or blowing Mick Jagger. Just admit it was all about partying and being with famous people.

P.S. Penny Lane in Almost Famous (2000) is not based on Pamela, no matter how much she (or any other famous groupie) claim the character is. Penny’s based on Pennie Ann Trumbull. Check out my earlier post on her.

[southeastasianists]

Shahiran Shahrani’s voice wavers as he describes the serene beauty of Borneo’s tropical rainforests, knowing that he’ll never see them up close again.

‘Despite everything, [Brunei] is a beautiful country,’ Shahiran says, reflecting on the journey he’s been on, culminating with him fleeing his home country of Brunei to seek refuge in Canada.

Speaking to Gay Star News over the phone in early April, Shahiran talked about life in his new home in Vancouver, a city where he says feels safe and secure.

The 40-year-old asylum seeker — who fled Brunei after being charged with sedition — had suddenly found himself in high demand.

Just days before his interview with GSN, it was reported that his home country was pushing through with its implementation of the Sharia Penal Code (SPC), a controversial piece of legislation that specifies brutal punishments for declared offenses such as male homosexual sex, apostasy, and adultery. Brunei, usually ignored by the international press, suddenly found itself at the center of the world’s attention. Shahiran, a gay Bruneian, received an influx of requests for interviews or to appear on news channels.

Freedom of expression is lacking in the country, and many LGBTI Bruneians do not speak openly about their experiences. Being outside of the country, Shahiran and a handful of other LGBTI Bruneians living in self-imposed exile formed the minority who were able to speak freely on the topic of homosexuality in Brunei.

The irony of an exile becoming a de facto spokesperson for the situation at home hasn’t been lost on him. ‘We’re the ones the world press are coming to to ask our opinions,’ he says. ‘So in effect, we’re the ones speaking for Brunei.’

Shahiran lending his voice to commentary on Brunei has not gone unnoticed in his home country, and, in many cases, has not been welcomed. Shahiran remains a divisive figure in Brunei, where many have accused him of using the media as an opportunity to lash out against Brunei’s government and society.

Aside from the predictable threats and curses commonplace on social media, a number of Bruneians have expressed concerns that relying on the voice of a gay Malay man with vested interest in portraying Brunei in a negative light not only loses nuance of a complex matter, but also privileges certain perspectives over other affected groups, such as women, who will also be affected by the harsh penalties of the SPC.

In turn, Shahiran’s response to the online backlash has been far from diplomatic. In an Instagram video, he goads people into more reactions, claiming that the more negativity he courts online, the better it will be for his asylum application in Canada.

It is safe to say that the distance between Shahiran and Brunei is an emotional one, as well as geographic.

‘Feelings of loneliness and isolation are commonplace’

While the implementation of the SPC has focused the world’s attention on the tiny Southeast Asian nation, the law is essentially the latest manifestation of the stigma and marginalization the Bruneian LGBTI community has experienced for decades.

A former colony, Brunei still retains a sodomy law introduced by the British. Although no one has been convicted under that law, its continued existence helps to legitimize prejudice and discrimination. With highly restricted options to organize and advocate for their rights, the LGBTI Bruneian community has been effectively forced underground.

‘Feelings of loneliness and isolation are commonplace [in Brunei],’ says Matthew Woolfe, founder of the LGBTI rights group The Brunei Project. ‘The lack of information and support services available to LGBTI Bruneians is something that The Brunei Project has been concerned about since its formation.’

‘These feelings can really damage their relationships with their friends and families,’ Woolfe adds. ‘In many instances, LGBTI Bruneians are not out to their families and friends or have only confided in a select few that they know they can trust.  They may feel that there is no one they can turn to for advice or to share their feelings.’

This is the world Shahiran grew up in while trying to come to terms with his sexuality. ‘If I really think about it, I first realized I was gay at six-years-old,’ he says. ‘But I was always in denial.’

He says it was only when he went to study abroad that he had a breakthrough. ‘When I was sent to the UK at 17 I still wouldn’t come out to myself. So when I went to Northern Ireland, to Belfast, to [study] medicine, it took like a year or so before I said to myself “You know what? I like guys!”’

Shahiran moved back to Brunei in his late-20s and found work in the health sector. During his 10 years living in the country he had two serious relationships, neither of which lasted.

Unlike heterosexual relationships, same-sex couples in Brunei face high levels of prejudice and social stigma. This necessitated sneaking around and ‘looking over each other’s shoulders’, trying to hide his relationship from the prying eyes of family and neighbors. The pressure became too much for the Shahiran and his boyfriend, who eventually parted ways.

Shahiran’s next (long-distance) relationship with a man in Malaysia did not come with the same scrutiny, but the distance and prolonged periods apart began to take their toll. As a means to intensify their time together, Shahiran and his boyfriend began indulging in harmful behaviors such as drug abuse and chemsex. ‘It was to numb the pain,’ Shahiran says. ‘Because I was very much in love with him, and couldn’t see him much. And then whenever he was around I wanted to enhance that meeting because we would only see each other once a month.’

‘I think Shahiran’s experience is a pretty accurate reflection of the circumstances facing LGBTI in Brunei and their coping mechanisms for dealing with them,’ says Woolfe.

‘When society shuns you for who you love or because of how you identify as a person and your own government goes so far as to implement laws that effectively say that you deserve to be jailed, tortured or killed for those same reasons, how do you deal with that level of hate and how that makes you feel about yourself, especially when you are feeling so isolated and alone? It pushes people to take extreme measures.  

‘I am aware of instances in which this desperation and feelings of loneliness and self-loathing have been major contributors in LGBTI Bruneians turning to illegal substances or attempting suicide.’

Over the years, Shahiran had also built up a small, close-knit group of friends, all of whom were gay. While none expressed their sexualities openly, they became a de-facto support network who could confide in one another, share feelings, and open up in ways they were unable to with to anyone outside of the group.

But everything would soon change.

‘I would’ve been in jail for more than ten years’

One weekend in mid-2017, Shahiran returned to Brunei after a chemsex-filled weekend in Kuala Lumpur. He logged onto Facebook and read news about Brunei’s health ministry announcing that they would be employing staff in all kitchens to ensure food was being prepared in a halal way. The move was rationalized as a way to boost recruitment and ensure food is prepared in accordance with Islamic standards.

Shahiran thought it was ridiculous. He posted a short rant about issues with the move, criticizing the ministry in the process. He then went to sleep; when he woke up, he found that the post had gone viral. It didn’t take long for the authorities to come after him.

Because he had complained about the ministry, state prosecutors claimed that he had posted ‘inflammatory comments’ about the government and their policy and charged him with sedition.

There was more: ‘I was charged with a further three charges under Sharia law,’ he says. ‘If I was found guilty for all of them, including sedition, I would’ve been in jail for more than ten years — over that Facebook post.’

It’s still a sensitive topic for Shahiran to discuss: ‘I never said anything against the Brunei government; I never said anything against the monarchy. I said something against a bloody department that I wasn’t happy about.’

Once slapped with charges, Shahiran’s world began to fall apart.

He says his group of friends steadily began to drop off. He says they ‘didn’t want anything to do’ with him, worrying that the authorities were following him and that they too would come under scrutiny. With the state determined to prosecute, Shahiran’s close friends and support network began to distance themselves from the beleaguered health worker.

‘When I was charged with sedition, all of them didn’t want anything to do with me […] They perceived that I was being followed — this guy, who’s being charged with sedition, obviously the security service is now going to follow him.’

He believes that the stakes were higher because they were a group of queer friends. ‘There’s less of a suspicion of each other among straight friends. They can’t betray each other, really — what is there to betray?

‘At the end, there were only two guys left. Even my best friend from the very very beginning disappeared. He was nowhere to be seen.’

Socially isolated, Shahiran fell into self-harming, usually with toenail clippers that left marks he could pass off as careless, accidental cuts. The stress of his trial meant he began lashing out at those closest to him — including the only friends he had left. He also occasionally began binging on methamphetamines to escape the solitude he found himself in.

‘It all went so fast. Because I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I just went in on myself,’ he says. ‘Losing friends… I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to get drugs to forget about it. And when I didn’t have drugs, I was just an annoying person to be around.

‘When I was on meth, I couldn’t give a shit about anyone. Because those binges, they were few and far between, but they would last for a week. And I wouldn’t sleep the whole time.’

Eventually, the pressure and paranoia became too much. He fled Brunei by taking an illegal taxi across the border into Sarawak, a region of Borneo under the Federation of Malaysia. He then flew to Kuala Lumpur and holed up in a hotel room.

After a year and a half of non-stop anxiety mixed with self-destructive behavior, Shahiran thought of taking his own life. ‘It’s really hard to talk about,’ he says. ‘I did try to attempt suicide because I’d just had enough.’

He says that his life was saved by a local drug dealer he knew and a friend from Brunei who came to his aid. The two began looking at countries Shahiran could seek asylum in. ‘[They] both kind of nursed me back to health and put me on the first flight to Vancouver,’ he says. He claimed asylum upon arriving in Canada.

A new life outside of Brunei

Living as an asylum seeker in Canada is a tough life. ‘My living situation is much worse in Vancouver than it was in Brunei,’ Shahiran says. He is barely supporting himself, constantly moving from one accommodation to another, often relying on food banks, and sometimes having to go whole days without eating.

But Shahiran also says that he’s found a happiness and a sense of belonging in his new home which he never experienced in Brunei.

‘I don’t scream at night [in my sleep] like I used to. I don’t wake up in a sweat, scared… Here I don’t bite my fingers until they start bleeding. I’ve never felt the need to start hurting myself, or never felt the desire for everything to end. In Brunei it was almost every fucking day — I was like “I wish this shit would end; I wish I would end.”’

He spends his time volunteering and getting to know the place he now calls home. ‘Here it’s such a diverse community,’ he says. ‘There are so many things to do.’ But despite his online bravado and animosity towards the Bruneian authorities, there’s still a part of Shahiran that continues to yearn for his homeland.

‘There’s nothing more majestic than the natural beauty of the rainforest of Brunei,’ Shahiran says. ‘Because they’re ancient rainforests. They’re among the oldest rainforests in the world […] The beaches are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen in almost all of Asia.’

‘That connection to the land that I have, that I will miss the most,’ he continues, his voice wavering. ‘Because I’ll never see that land again.’

[supergenial]

The Byleth Diatribe

clickbait title: if you thought Byleth was creepy, wait until you read this!

Intro

In the past couple months it's really gotten my attention the fact that some people cannot stand looking at images that depict the teacher character from fire emblem three houses (Byleth) with their students in a romantic manner. They arrive at this disgust due to the parallels it traces with real life teachers who take advantage of their students. While I don't share this sensibility, I do think it's an interesting topic to think of so I'd like to explore why these people are correct in their conclusion that Byleth is creepy, but entirely wrong in their logic-path to it.

1) Byleth is just not an actual character

To address the elephant in the room, Byleth is literally a non-character. In a game filled with wonderful dialogue that fully exposes character motivations for a massive cast, it's hard to think of this one silent teacher as a real character that normally exists in that world. Byleth's "character" is purely an afterthought to their role as the Player Avatar. Surely enough in previous installments of the series you had Robin, Corrin and Kris, but their situation was partly different.

Robin and Corrin were proper characters as much as every other character in their game. They held conversations with the other characters, they expressed themselves in regards to the events that happened to them, some would even dare to argue they were better written that some other characters in their respective games if only because their heightened importance to their respective plot lines inevitably helps them have more dialogue, and even a bad writer has to stumble into writing something good eventually which means in some scenes they’re able to overcome the barrier of being bland by design.

Byleth however has none of this. At best they're given 2 or 3 text choices at any given time, and any bipartisan conversation that involves them is more of a soliloquy by the other character, with the player input being largely irrelevant to the flow of the conversation aside from changing the very immediate reaction that follows that same input.

As such, the notion that Byleth is a creepy teacher who's grooming their students to be their personal sex slaves is misconstrued in the fact that Byleth simply has no real motivations, hence no intent. It is equally as valid to assume they could be a straight laced no-nonsense teacher or a deviant who preys on children, because no conjectures can be traced to their personality, as it doesn't exist. We can't deduce what is it that Byleth wants out of life because the avatar has no life and exists purely as a videogame terminal. We don't know what they enjoy outside of the very few things we the players are allowed to do as the character, which is why so much Byleth fanart involves fishing, cooking, or drinking tea, the few hobbies we indulged in while playing as them.

There is however something innately perverse about Byleth, it's just not the fact they're a teacher, but rather the fact they're the player.

2) Player avatars are inherently creepy, and so are dating sims

Fire Emblem is a fantasy game. In Fire Emblem games you will not only find unreal things like dragons and magic, but also straight up impossible things such as kind-hearted rulers that care about protecting and improving the lives of their constituents. The three real main characters in this game all have pure motivations and genuine desire to improve the world (yes... even Edelgard). As such, we can expect the same purity and lack of reality from a hypothetical Byleth that has a personality. It's fair to assume they'd be legitimate teachers with no creepy intentions who, through the vicissitudes of life, end up inadvertently falling in love with their students. In a fantasy land where every "good guy" is pure in nature there is no concern of Byleth grooming Dimitri, or of Edelgard forcing some ill intentioned quid-pro-quo with her right hand strategist whom she is obsessed with, because it's simply fantasy where everyone is nice and pure so things just magically always work out.

There is however an insidious factor lurking over this fantasy land, and that is the player. An omnipotent being who decides who lives, who dies, who gets married to who, and who stays alone because we just don't like them that much. The player can send Ashe to get the last hit on Lonato, just out of morbid curiosity to see what is the special dialogue that they have in that situation. The player can recruit Felix and then have Felix kill Rodrigue in the crimson route, just to see what hilarious quip will the son bark at the father. And of course, the player gets to decide who gets married to the lifeless slab of meat and bones with no emotion that is the Player Avatar. If anything breaks the idea that these characters are well written or realistic, it is the fact that they can all fall in love with someone who cannot communicate with them, all because of the emotions they magically choose to believe the avatar has, or rather, we choose to make them believe it.

In a "set" story like fire emblem echoes or path of radiance, the epilogues have little to no variety because the characters will just be themselves regardless of the player's input. No matter how much you want to see Celica's reaction to Faye getting together with Alm, that is simply not going to happen because their bond is set in stone, it cannot be altered, it is a "set" story. Likewise Nyna in new mystery of the emblem will never, ever fuck Sirius regardless of what she or the player wishes. Three Houses on the other hand is more like a playground than a book, the player will mess with the lives of these characters until they get bored of them, seeing every possible unlikely combination programmed into the game just out of curiosity to see what the characters will say, to squeeze out every last bit of "Content" that the game has until they get bored of it and move on to something else, effectively reducing the characters from "characters" to mere consumables. 

Hence why I can't help but laugh at the notion that Byleth is creepy by nature of being a teacher when they're so much more than a teacher and so much more creepy than a creepy teacher. They're an in-game god (hell, lore-wise they're also a god in every ending except crimson). Byleth can quite literally mind control other characters into loving them as long as they're given enough flowers and tea. Look at Sylvain's C support with Byleth and tell me if it's natural for a guy like him to fall in love like that after saying he wants to murder Byleth (surely enough, it's even creepier for players to fall in love with him because of that support, as Sylvain is an extremely interesting character but only in his other supports).

This is why you see people saying that Felix and Annette are a great couple, or that Marianne and Dimitri are made for each other, but you don’t really see people saying that Byleth’s pairing with x is cute. When two proper characters interact all the way to their A support and fall in love that way, you’ve actually seen their story develop, you can feel happy for them. Pairing Byleth with a proper character fulfills your desire to monopolize that character and get a neat special artwork of them, but has it really been a good story and feel like this is a good conclusion for them? No. (I’d be willing to say Byleth and Dimitri do make a somewhat good couple though, but that point would be much easier to defend if Byleth could actually communicate properly)

It wouldn't matter if Byleth was a 15 year old teacher, or a 17 year old student that's a peer to the classmates, or if all of the classmates were older than Byleth AND teachers instead while Byleth is a student. By the mere nature of the player input and Byleth's lack of character, the pairing is screwed up to begin with. 

What I'm getting at is that pairing Byleth with Catherine or Shamir is equally as fucked up as pairing Byleth with Dimitri (I would argue moreso because come on... Shamir and Catherine are totally girlfriends and you're just squeezing yourself in, have some respect).

In other words Byleth is only creepy because you are creepy. You're playing a game where you can date people who cannot possibly refuse you. Even if you remove that factor, you'd still be playing at making children fuck each other in whatever way you see fit. Something is wrong with you. You're the only impure factor affecting this game.

3) Fire Emblem will always suck

This is my favorite series of games but come on guys, you know fire emblem will always suck if you care about this kinda thing. In fire emblem fates Corrin has a wide variety of about 9 flavors of incest to choose from. In fire emblem awakening Robin can marry an amnesiac woman with head trauma who can't even speak complete sentences and is entirely dependent on him to subsist. The fanbase has grown so twisted they actively wanted Byleth to get married to Alois, a married man with children, and were disappointed when they didn't fuck in that paired ending (though I understand getting upset about the lack of gay supports, but hey that's just yet another way in which fire emblem chooses to suck).

Hell this is the fanbase that considers Berkut and Rinea to be a cute couple, what the actual hell guys. Go ahead and criticize the games but as long as the shipping simulator is included in the series, the games will always be creepy in their very nature, and guess what: the shipping simulator happens to be one of the most popular features and the one that people say it's the best written part of every game, so go figure if they're going to remove that.

ps: if you want a fire emblem with no paired endings, path of radiance has your back, it is my favorite! and if you want to avoid supports altogether, try Radiant Dawn, that's some good stuff.

4) Just for fun: the actual most fucked up ships in the game

-Lysithea with Linhardt, Byleth or Hanneman, or anyone.

When I recruited Lysithea in my first playthrough I didn't know she was a strong unit, instead I simply did it because I saw this sassy lost child wandering the halls and just really didn't want to kill her. I wanted her to live on and see her have a happy epilogue. Imagine my surprise when I reached the epilogues and it turns out she just simply dies shortly after the story if you don't pair her up with anyone. The exact one thing I wanted to avert was having her meet an early death, yet the game simply has her die anyway.

At the end of my deer playthrough I was all set to click on Hilda when I realized, wait a minute, Lysithea is going to die if I do this, right? And that is in fact the case. She can only live by supporting Hanneman, Lindhart or Byleth, and I had not recruited those two. So I click on Lysithea but it's kind of a tainted click isn't it? Not that I dislike her or anything, but once you throw in that additional motivation the scales have been irreversibly tipped in an unpleasant manner. I have effectively been guilted into picking her.

On to a third playthrough. I see Felix has really cute supports with Lysithea, but I can't have them supporting each other because I know she still meets an early death with him. And Lindhart, well his supports aren't bad and he's a great guy but they're certainly not as fun supports as Felix's. Hanneman fortunately doesn't seem interested in that way when you pair him up with Lysithea (not that he has any restraints when it comes to his supports with Dorothea...) so you can still have that as effectively a "solo" end for her in which she lives, but it's still kind of messed up. By giving her the Hanneman ending I'm condemning her to miss out on love for the rest of her life so that she can live on, but isn't love the reason we live on to begin with? Overall, I'd say Lysithea x Lindhart or Byleth is certainly a creepy support in the very nature that you have to do it or else you're a murderer, because you had the power to prevent this death and chose not to.

-Flayn with literally anyone

Imagine if a grown adult man could disguise himself as a high schooler, infiltrated a school and got married to a girl less than half his age. People would hate it, people would riot, Intelligent Systems would be over. But that is Flayn everyone! Fire Emblem is no stranger to the stupid trope of "little girl who's actually hundreds of years old", but I'll argue that Flayn is markedly different from Nowi. Nowi is most definitely a cartoonish fantasy character, who still acts like a little girl despite being hundreds of years old. She's literally bait for pedophile nerds with a flimsy shield in her supposed age, which she and her fans openly flaunt as if it really meant anything when the intent of her character is so transparent.

Flayn on the other hand is a legitimately mature character (as far as maturity goes in this game...) who is pretending to be a high schooler to get hitched with a student, all while hiding her real age entirely on purpose. An actual wolf in sheep's clothing (or dragon in sheep's clothing in this case...). And she can s-support literally every single male student except for Hubert (for story reasons) and Sylvain (for Sylvain reasons). Not only that but she doesn’t support any females other than Manuela, her fellow cougar, and she doesn’t support any of the older men like Hanneman showing she’s only interested in young blood.

But hey everyone! Flayn is just the little meme fish girl trapped in the mcdonalds playplace so we all give her a pass right. Overall though I'd say her creep factor is still significantly lower than Nowi's if only because her design isn't a chore to look at.

-Rhea x Byleth

This is some galaxy brain 5D chess grandmaster type of shit I tell you. Capitalizing on the sickening mommy fetish that's been rising up recently internet the crackhead team of geniuses at intelligent systems decided to pull Joker's Trick on people who are into that kind of thing. First they have her be the oldest non-wrinkled character, then they give her Kikuko Inoue as a seiyuu (famously known for often playing mom roles), then they give players that one scene where Byleth rests on her lap like their kid, and then? Then the game tells you Rhea is the daughter of Byleth. Wait a minute, what the hell? I can't even begin to think this one out because at this point my brain has turned to tofu and I am forever perplexed by this turnaround, hats off to intelligent systems for their ultimate jest.

After fates and this I positively cannot wait to see what new incestcoaster they'll turn my guts inside out with in the next entry of the series, Fire Emblem is truly the finest series of horror games disguised as jrpgs.

Obviously, this post was written in jest. I don’t actually believe you’re an inherently creepy person for playing fire emblem, nor do I think Flayn is a predator deviant (hell I don’t even think Nowi is that bad). I just found it truly interesting how people’s sensitivities can activate in these fictional settings (and do think those sensitivities should be respected) but when I try to activate those neurons my mind ends up in a whole different place. So yeah, just having some fun.

Also check out the rest of this trilogy with Three Houses sucks actually and Three Houses is good actually. I seriously hope I never feel like writing anything about this game ever again.

[closetofanxiety]

50 Wrestling Questions: Why Not

Remember this? It’s been a while. Let’s do this again. Let’s twist again like we did last summer. Or the summer of 2017 in this case.

1. What got you into wrestling?

People ask me this all the time, and I don’t really have a good answer. I’ve liked it on and off since I was very young, and who knows why you like the stuff you like when you’re a little kid? 

2. What is your favorite wrestling promotion?

Of all time: ECW, even though I would probably think of it very differently if it were happening today. Currently: Beyond Wrestling. 

3. Favorite male wrestler of all time?

Gorgeous George, but if we’re talking about people who were alive when I was alive, Dusty Rhodes. I want to say Bruiser Brody, but in my heart I would know I was just saying that to look cool. 

4. Favorite female wrestler of all time?

Gail Kim. For the longest time, she was the only woman in a major global wrestling company who got over based on her wrestling ability. She was doing stuff in TNA that was years ahead of its time, and could adapt her style to get great matches with a variety of opponents with very different backgrounds. And she can still go, as she showed in the match against Tessa Blanchard the other night. I know it would be cooler to say Bull Nakano or Chigusa Nagayo or something, but I don’t know enough of their stuff to make that claim credible. I am who I am, a person who goes to the mall to buy shoes. 

5. Favorite current male wrestler?

Nick Gage

6. Favorite current female wrestler?

Momo Watanabe 

7. Favorite theme song?

Joey Janela’s music captures his vibe perfectly, and sounds great being blasted out of PA speakers inside a small bar or VFW hall. Of all time, probably, I don’t know, Honky Tonk Man? In an ironic way that slowly becomes sincere?

8. Least favorite theme song?

Ricochet’s WWE theme music is pretty dreadful. 

9. Favorite gimmick?

Currently: Orange Cassidy. All time: Road Warriors maybe? They were almost 100 percent gimmick, and they were the biggest tag team in the world at a great time for tag team wrestling. 

10. Least favorite gimmick?

All the racist and gay-hating gimmicks that have been used throughout the years are more or less equally horrible. If we’re talking about a terrible gimmick that was non-malignant, I’d say it was taking giant indestructible ass-kicker Mike Awesome and making him “That 70s Guy.” 

11. Best entrance (either their usual entrance or a special one, like a Wrestlemania entrance)?

Gorgeous George had the best entrance of all time, and it’s been copied ever since (Ric Flair’s entrance is basically Gorgeous George’s, scored with a different piece of classical music). The Sandman also had a great entrance. He was kind of all-entrance, now that I think of it. I also love those old shows in Japan where Brody would come out to “Immigrant Song” running through the crowd, swinging a fucking chain over his head like a lunatic. An entrance that makes you fear for your life: mission accomplished. 

12. Best Undertaker Wrestlemania match?

I am not the right person to ask for Undertaker superlatives, but the Lesnar match had a legitimately shocking conclusion that I still appreciate 

13. Most overrated?

I’m tempted to incur the wrath of the online by making a contrarian hot take selection like Ken Omega, but in reality it’s probably the Undertaker. 

14. Most underrated?

There are a million choices from before the 1980s, the Before Time of contemporary pro wrestling. Edouard Carpentier, say; he was having matches in 1970 that would not look out of place in 2019. Since the 1980s, I’d say Jerry Lynn is a very strong contender for most underrated. The popular choice would be Sid or Lex Luger, but I think they’re pretty much rated exactly as they should be. 

15. Have you ever been to an event? If so, which one?

I certainly have been to many pro wrestling events. I go to one or two a month. Like a lot of things, wrestling is pretty much always fun in person. It helps that the Northeast has a ton of good companies within easy driving distance. My favorite show of all time might be Americanrana 2016. 

16. Who has the best merch?

We’re in a weird period where people on Instagram are making better shirt designs (in insanely limited editions) than the vast majority of wrestlers or wrestling companies. I will say that Kris Wolf has yet to make an ugly or boring piece of merchandise, which is a huge complication in this day and age. 

17. Do you own any merch?

Nope! Wait, I mean, “yes, entirely too much.” Shirts, 8 x 10s, DVDs, magazines, random pieces like fancy enamel badges and a stack of Okada bucks. The one thing I’ve never gotten into is action figures, and that’s probably good for the ol’ bank balance. 

18. Best nickname?

"The American Dream” Dusty Rhodes is an all-time classic. 

19. Worst nickname?

"The Game” is a dumb nickname. “The Cerebral Assassin” is also a dumb nickname. Are assassins supposed to be stupid? I bet they’re typically very smart, although of low moral character. “Triple H” is his only good nickname, and even that sounds like the nickname of a guy who owns a car dealership out by the highway.

20. Best mic skills?

Nobody was ever better than Bobby Heenan, who had incredible range and versatility. He could do comedy and he could do menace. He could do calm and he could do spitting rage. He had an uncanny sense of timing and was quicker on his feet than almost anyone. No one really comes close at matching his astonishing depth, but Dusty Rhodes was an all-time great promo. He really made you care about wrestling matches, which is not an easy thing to do.

21. Most annoying?

I mean, it has to be Vince McMahon. 

22. Most attractive male?

Is Tanahashi too obvious a choice? Best hair in wrestling. It’s incredible and luxurious, like an untamed mountain stream. Andrade “Cien” Almas or whatever they’ve shortened his name to (”And”) is a handsome man. Killer Kross: very handsome. We live in a golden age of attractive wrestlers. Just look back at the gassed-up Zubaz mastodons of the 1980s, or the territories-era guys who all looked like they were 48 years old and had pot bellies. You almost have to try to find unattractive wrestlers. Nick Gage, for instance. But I’m sure even he has his swooning admirers. 

23. Most attractive female?

Again, what a time for attractive wrestlers. It may be shallow, but wrestling is a business that’s at least partially cosmetic. Attractive people sell tickets. I would, and have, bought a ticket to see Hana Kimura. 

24. Favorite faction?

Of all time? Probably the Barry Windham-era Four Horsemen. More recently, Team Pazuzu. 

25. Worst faction?

BULLET CLUB. No, it’s not the Bullet Club, as exhausted as they’ve become. It’s probably the nWo after early 1998 or so, when they had like 60 members and dragged down every storyline. 

26. Best ring gear?

Su Yung and Pentagon Jr. 

27. Who do you think would be the nicest in real life?

I bet Jerry Lynn is a good guy to know. People in wrestling universally praise Little Guido, which is very rare. The Young Bucks seem like they might be decent dudes. Willow Nightingale told a story on a podcast about Nick Gage excitedly playing with Solo Darling’s dog backstage, so you never know. 

28. Who would be the rudest in real life?

On the indie level, it’s probably someone who doesn’t work very much. Above the indie level, I bet some of those British guys are secretly horrible, like Jimmy Havoc. 

29. Favorite heel?

Currently it’s a tie between MJF and Alisha Edwards, two of the only people who can regularly get indie crowds to boo them. Of all time, heel Flair was hard to beat. 

30. Most hardcore?

It’s definitely either a guy in Japan or a guy in Mexico, and he’s definitely been burned by explosive charges multiple times. Onita? It’s probably Onita. Or Jun Kasai? I think Onita has probably been exploded more times than Jun Kasai. 

31. A wrestler you could beat?

At wrestling? Not a single one of them. Nicholas, the small boy who won the WWE tag team championship with Braun Strowman, would wipe the floor with me. Even the most callow bodybuilder-turned-wrestler would not break a sweat beating me senseless. But writing talking points for senior administration officials in preparation for legislative testimony? Now you’re on my turf. Not so tough now, huh, Nicholas? 

32. Best story line?

Freebirds vs. Von Erichs or Stone Cold vs. Vince. My heart says the former, my head says the latter. 

33. Biggest missed opportunity for a story line?

The WWE blowing the invasion angle after purchasing WCW is the obvious one. More recently, they blew it by not turning Reigns heel. 

34. Worst story line?

Ha, so many of them. Impossible to choose just one. At least most of the dumb embarrassing Russo ones in WCW and TNA were basically harmless, like the time Samoa Joe got kidnapped by ninjas. The Chuck and Billy wedding thing was far worse. A low point even by Vince’s impressively cretinous standards.

35. Which wrestler should turn heel?

I’d like to see a Jordynne Grace heel run in Impact. Heel Finn Balor would also be good. 

36. Which wrestler should turn face?

Samoa Joe has a good fiery babyface, “I’m tired of doing your dirty work, McMahon!” run in him. 

37. Who would be the worst to room with?

Can you imagine sharing a living space with Enzo Amore? Or the thicket of twee Disney merchandise you’d have to negotiate every day if you lived with Johnny Gargano?

38. Who would be the best to room with?

I bet Eddie Edwards would be a surprisingly thoughtful roommate, like he’d always do the dishes “because I love doing them!,” that kind of thing. I have nothing to base this suspicion on, he just seems like my old roommate, Shane, who was like that. 

39. Who would be your best friend if you were a wrestler?

I’d like to say Jushin Thunder Liger, and posit that we would go on exciting adventures, but the answer is probably something like “Comp Time” Terry Dandridge, who wrestles monthly for 2Xtreme All-Pro Wrestling Alliance out of Euphoria, Kansas and has a 9 to 5 as a hardware store manager. 

40. What would your job be in a wrestling promotion?

I’d normally make a self-effacing joke here, but I do social media training at my real job, and so many wrestlers are badly in need of help in this area. 

41. Favorite wrestling podcast/Youtube channel?

I like AIW’s “The Card is Going to Change” podcast a lot, and there’s one by the owners of RevPro that’s pretty good. It’s hard to find a well-produced wrestling podcast that talks about independent wrestling. My favorite wrestling YouTube channel is OSW Review. 

42. Favorite finisher?

BURNING HAMMER

43. Least favorite finisher?

The Bayley-to-belly suplex. HOW IS THIS A FINISHING MOVE

44. Favorite match?

Kerry Von Erich vs. Jerry Lawler at Superclash III. It was a bloody, weird, engrossing spectacle, and it was the symbolic end of the territories era. 

45. Favorite PPV?

Royal Rumble is the last PPV my casual fan friends reliably want to see, and with good reason: it’s engrossing.

46. Guilty pleasure wrestler?

Big Banter Baron Corbin, but I feel no guilt here. He rules. 

47. Favorite submission?

THE KATA HA JIME, otherwise known as the Tazmission.

48. Most entertaining to watch?

All time? Randy Savage. Currently? Io Shirai. 

49. Best spot?

Anyone spitting mist into the unsuspecting eyes of their foes

50. Who do you most respect?

I respect you, booker man.

[meepmorpperaltiago]

If I Go There’s Just No Telling How Far I’ll Go (a b99 Princess Diaries AU) (1/9)

I’ve finally turned the Princess Diaries AU I wrote a few weeks ago into a full series, so I hope you enjoy this! I also want to give credit to @middleclassaunty for coming up with the title (and yes, it is a Moana reference) and @amez-santiago for coming up with the idea of putting this in a diary format!

Thursday, 17th of April 2014

Breaking News: Tragic Plane Crash Takes Life of Genovian Prince

Tributes have been pouring in from all over the world, as Prince Mateo, Genovia’s beloved heir, has tragically lost his life in a plane crash.                The Prince was traveling in his private jet to a meeting with several international leaders, when the engine of the plane started to break down.       The Genovian Prime Minister released a statement earlier this morning.       He said: “It is with great sorrow that we confirm that our beloved Prince has been lost. We ask that the press, both national and international, respects the Royal household’s privacy at this difficult time.”                                                                                            There were no survivors and the conference has been suspended for the next week.                     

The news is also expected to throw Genovia into political turmoil, as the widowed Queen has no immediate relatives to take the throne.                  

It’s likely that the Genovian government will need to look further afield for a future monarch – but for now, the country and indeed the world, will mourn this extraordinary Prince.

 Monday, May 12th 2014

Dear diary,

Sorry for the lack of updates, but there’s not been much to report on over the past few weeks. Since my victory in the Jimmy Jab Games, nothing much exciting has been happening in the precinct and things have been the same as usual with Teddy. I like that about us though – we’re steady. I think that Jake and I are starting to get over all of the awkward stuff that happened before he went undercover, as we’re still working on the murder case I wrote about last week. I honestly don’t think we’ll be able to crack this one, as our only lead at the moment is a witness who refuses to talk, which is of course the most frustrating type of case. I’m so relieved that we’ve been able to work together and be friends again.

I almost forgot, I did get a weird prank call the other day, from a guy claiming to be the Genovian Foreign Minister – of all the pranks to pick, that has to be the strangest! Especially as, (fun factoid about me), I am distantly related to the Genovian Royal Family.

Love,

Amy

Tuesday, May 13th, 2014

Jake solved it. He had one thought, then he worked it all out in less than a minute and our suspect confessed! He really is brilliant sometimes. Well, a lot of the time actually. I’ve begrudgingly given him all of the credit for cracking the case and we went out to Shaws with the rest of the squad to celebrate. I did feel a little guilty, as I haven’t seen Teddy since our date on Sunday night, but as we’re both cops I’m sure he understands the thrill that comes from closing a case (even if I didn’t technically solve it this time).

Love,

Amy

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

I got another prank message today, this time an email, saying that I was the new heir to the Genovian throne – I thought it might be a new scam, but when I tried to google it nothing came up!

In other news, Gina spent the entire day using her camera phone to film the first episode of her new reality show, Linetti Set Go. Eventually Holt took her phone away and I honestly thought she was going to try and attack him. She looked like she was in mourning for the rest of the day. Nothing much else to say really and Teddy and I are going out for dinner in half an hour, so I guess I should go and get ready!

Love,

Amy

Thursday, May 15th, 2014

This Genovia thing is starting to get weird – I’ve had 3 emails, but they all seems to be specifically targeting me. I have no idea what to do, but I haven’t told anyone, not even my mom and as you know I tell her everything (within good reason, of course).

Also, a new stationery store opened across the street, with so many beautiful binders that I know are going to be such a drain on my bank account.

Love,

Amy

Friday, May 16th, 2014

It was real. It was all real. I’ve been asked to become the new heir to the Genovian throne. I got a letter today, with the official Royal seal and signed by both the Prime Minister and the Queen. I got into contact with the Genovian Foreign Office, (I of course checked that I was calling a legitimate number) and they confirmed it.

I can’t believe it. I’m a 33-year old living the dream life of a 5-year old. There’s so much to consider – I would have to leave my entire life behind to rule a country I’ve never even visited, I would have to give up on all my career ambitions, all my dreams, everything I’ve ever wanted. I would also have to leave my family and the squad, who are basically like a family to me at this point – I would miss all of them so much. I would miss Jake so much.

And, (admittedly further down on my list of priorities at the moment), how would all of this affect my relationship with Teddy? We haven’t been dating long, but I was really hoping it would go somewhere – now, for it to work long-term, he would have to move to Genovia and become a Prince consort. I mean, I’m not completely sure that I want to marry him, but you get my point. Not that I wouldn’t potentially want to marry him, in some hypothetical future, but I don’t feel at the moment that… well you get my point.

At the same time, it is an incredible opportunity and I know that their country will be thrown into political chaos without an heir.

I would have “Princess Lessons” in the meantime, and my decision would be announced at Genovia’s Independence Day Ball. They said I could take my time making my choice, so that’s what I’m going to do.

Love,

Amy

Sunday, May 17th, 2014

I called the Genovian Foreign Office today and told them that I will consider becoming the Princess of Genovia.

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (20/21)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So, friends, this is the penultimate chapter! The next chapter is the epilogue with all of the happiness that this family deserves, so be looking out for that one! I’ll post when everyone has had some time to read this one! 💙

A special shoutout to @shady-swan-jones for prompting me this story back in November. I was going to write a one shot, never could figure out how to do it, and then posted the introduction to the one shot so I could encourage myself to keep writing it. Another shoutout to @wellhellotragic for helping me formulate ideas and for making sure everything made sense and another one for @bmbbcs4evr because she literally messages me after every chapter with detailed notes that point out little things that I figured no one would notice and flails over something that’s super angsty. And thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for simply being herself 😊

This has been such a difficult story to write, but I’ve really, truly enjoyed getting to put my heart into crafting it. 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @pirateherokillian @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @idristardis @blowmiakisscolin

-/-

“Hey, Ems,” Neal smiles, looking for all the world like he belongs in this house while suddenly the place where she once felt safest no longer feels secure. Her heartbeat has picked up by a solid twenty seven more beats per minute, and her legs seem like flimsy toothpicks beneath her as she places her hand against Henry’s shoulder, the warmth of Killian’s hand on her back the only thing that seems not to be freezing her out.

She’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming. There’s no other explanation for any of this. She’s going to wake up in thirty seconds and Killian’s arms are going to be wrapped around her and the man who abandoned her isn’t going to be holding her daughter in the way that he never held his son.

Vomit makes its way up her throat, but she swallows it down and closes her eyes as she attempts to take one deep breath after another. The tension is practically rolling off of Killian, but he’s the ones who brushes by her first, quickly heading into the living room and pulling Neal into a hug only to come out with Ada held securely in his arms.

Good.

Okay, good.

That makes her breathe a little more easily, and when Killian nods at her, a soft smile on his face, she takes that as her cue to try to act as naturally as she can. It’s difficult figuring out what that is, especially since even if she didn’t know everything she knew, she would still be pissed at Neal and at their conversation from yesterday. Every bit of that was unacceptable, but she can’t knock the teeth out of his mouth with Henry in here.

She really wants to knock the teeth out of his mouth and possibly break a bone or two.

But she can’t. She can’t do any of that, and it’s so damn unfair. This man has made her love him time and time again, even if it has been in different ways, and then ripped her entire life out from underneath her. All she wants is to scream and yell and work out every bit of anger and resentment, but none of that is possible.

This man is her son’s father, and even if he is a criminal and an undeniable asshole, she cannot degrade him in front of Henry. Not yet. They’re going to have to have that conversation, but no part of her is ready for it.

And she imagines she can’t be ready until someone arrests her ex-husband.

What the fuck is her life?

“You look like a ghost,” Ruby laughs, and Emma blinks in response several times until her vision clears of the blurry tears and Ruby comes into view. She’d forgotten that Ruby was here. How did she forget that? Why didn’t Ruby text her that Neal was here? “Of course, I would too if my ex-husband showed up in my house,” she whispers in Emma’s ear, making her laugh even if she doesn’t know why.

“When did he get here?”

“About five minutes ago.”

She nods, swallowing her gulp again. “Thanks for watching the kids, Rubes. Were they good?”

“They were great. We got ice cream, like I promised, and then we did stop by my house to pick up some paints. They’ve both got a few pieces drying out on the back deck, so make sure to look out there and get them.”

“What’d you paint for me, kid?” she asks Henry, her voice cracking as she tries to smile at him.

“Dinosaurs. Ruby looked them up for me online and drew them for me before I painted them.”

“Well that’s nice of her. Why don’t you thank her before she leaves, okay? I’m going to go say hi to your dad.”

Henry nods before he starts chatting Ruby up like she hasn’t been with her all day. It makes her legitimately smile when she’s having a difficult time keeping control of any of her limbs, but she focuses on the way that Henry is currently happy and Ada is babbling without stopping to Killian as he sits with her on the couch all the while she steps closer to Neal and pretends that he doesn’t make her feel like she’s covered in a layer of un-washable grime.

Unlike Killian, she doesn’t have the wherewithal to give him a hug, so she steps in front of him and straightens her shoulders all the while he smiles down at her. She’s never found his smile creepy until this exact moment. Condescending, sure. Creepy, not at all.

“What are you doing here, Neal?”

“What? A man can’t come and surprise his son?”

“Not without talking about it to me first.”

Neal’s jaw ticks. “He’s my son. I can see him when I want to.”

“That’s not how parenting works when you don’t live in the same house, and you know it. I’m not asking for the world. I’m asking for you to give me a heads up before you show up at my house.”

“Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Emma laughs, something dark and sadistic, and she has to reign herself in. She will not let Henry see everything right now. At least he’s still talking to Ruby. “Yeah,” she lies, forcing another smile onto her face, “I think you showing up here is the highlight of my day. How is it that you couldn’t make it up here on Friday like you were supposed to and yet you’re here today?”

“Change of plans.”

She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest before sitting down on the arm of the couch, all of the remaining strength in her body leaving her as the lack of sleep and stress catches up to her. “Well, I’m sure Henry is excited to see you. I’ll order some pizza for dinner, and you guys can watch a movie or something after he finishes his book report.”

God, she doesn’t want to deal with having to do a book report even if it’s for a third grade class.

Life goes on even when hers is falling apart, it seems.

“Dad,” Henry says, coming to stand between them as he bounces up and down on his toes, “I have to show you my room. I got new books. Come on.”

Henry tugs at Neal’s shirt, and Neal smiles before following him up the stairs, his footsteps leaving an imprint on each stair. She doesn’t really want him alone with Henry, but honestly, it’s a relief for the both of them to be out of the room so that she can breathe. Why can she still not breathe?

Leaning down, she props her head between her legs and places her hands on her neck to try to squeeze out the tension that’s remaining there. In muted tones she hears Ruby saying goodbye, her laugh the loudest part about it as she talks to Ada and Killian, and vaguely she realizes that Ruby is saying goodbye to her too. It’s difficult to get her voice to sound normal, to think straight as she hugs Ruby goodbye and promises that she’ll explain everything at work tomorrow.

Except she knows that she’s not going to be at work tomorrow. There’s no way.

As soon as the door clicks behind Ruby, everything becomes a little louder, Ada’s babbling clearer, and she walks into Killian’s side before he even gets the chance to lift his arm. She’s always been able to stand on her own, but sometimes she needs the support. Right now is one of those times. Killian lifts his arm out from between them and wraps it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him so that she can feel all of his warmth as his lips press against her forehead. She nearly sobs at the feeling.

“It’s okay, love.”

“It’s n-not. How is he here? Why is he here? What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll…I think that I’ll text David and let him know that he’s here, and he’ll talk to Graham. They might – Emma, they might not be ready to bring him in yet, and if that’s the case, I need you to act like nothing is wrong. If Neal gets a whiff of anything, if he knows that someone is on to him, I’m sure he has the resources to run.”

“Would he do that?”

“He’s done it before.”

She nods her head against his chest before pulling back and looking directly at Ada. It’s kind of like looking in a mirror, but right now her eyes show more blue than green, and her eyelashes fall darkly against her cheeks like Killian.

“Hey, bug,” she sighs, taking her in her arms and holding her. Her limbs are still shaking, nerves and tiredness winning over determination, but she knows that she has to push through this.

Nothing has ever completely knocked her out before. She can do this. She has to.

The entire night is this odd blur of confusion and anxiety and tenseness that can’t be fixed. Neal is acting like everything is normal, like he didn’t just show up at their house, like he isn’t a liar, like he didn’t try to cut Killian out of Henry’s life. She still doesn’t understand any of that. The man left her, left Henry, and yet he came back. Why in the world did he come back when he obviously wanted nothing to do with them? Why does he want something to do with them now, and what is his issue with Killian? If he didn’t care enough to come home, why would he care about Killian’s role in Henry’s life?

The only thing she can think of is jealousy, and that seems like the worst excuse in the world. He didn’t want her or want to be with her, and yet he’s acting like he has some right to the life they used to share.

Neal may not have died, but their old life is dead and buried in the ground far more than six feet under.

Instead of putting Ada to bed in her room, she lets her fall asleep on her chest, the small puffs of air more reassuring than anything, and throughout the night she never takes her eyes off of Henry to make sure that he’s okay. She’s sure that he’s safe, that they’re all safe in here, but her life has been so unpredictable that she can’t help the worry that is continuing to fester in the pit of her stomach as she waits to see just how much longer she’s going to have to live with Neal being back in her house.

When all of this is over, she wants to move. She wants to be away from this place. It has been her home, the place where she’s felt the most secure and the place where she conceived her daughter, but it’s been tainted by everything that’s happened over the past nine months.

Ada turns one in two weeks, and this is not a year that she wants to remember even though it will be inked like a tattoo on her brain for the rest of her life. Hopefully the bright spots will blur away the darkness.

It simply has to.

Neal doesn’t make any odd moves, doesn’t say anything else that is horrifically wrong, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a father who loves his son and loves spending time with his family. For all of the world, and most of the western world does know who they are if they watched the news at some point last year, they are some kind of perfect family who is making the best of a complicated situation. That’s what Neal put on in his interview, what he made everyone including her believe even if she’s never been under the impression of anyone being perfect, and now she wonders what parts of her life are still true.

Killian is true. He may have withheld things from her, and they may have their issues, but he’s real. And he’s not going to abandon her. Of that she is completely and totally sure.

Her children are true, her brother, her mom. She needs to call her mom and tell her that she loves her and thank her for helping to give Emma so many good parts of her life. No part of her would be the same with Ruth having adopted her, and even if it’s a shitstorm right now, it’s still good.

She has to have hope that it’s going to get better too.

“Alright, time to go to bed,” Killian yawns when the Lego Movie ends, their thousandth viewing of it finally over.

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch. “Seriously?”

“Aye, you’ve got school in the morning, and I imagine that Mary Margaret won’t be too happy if you’re sleeping through one of her lessons.”

“I’ve done that before.”

Killian laughs at the same time that she does, and for the briefest of moments, everything feels normal again, especially when Henry slides down the couch cushions and is basically a noodle for forty five seconds until Neal scoops him up from the couch, standing him on his feet and placing his hand on his shoulders.

“I’ll put him to bed.”

“Thanks,” she says with a forced smile. How can he be acting so normally when everything is not normal? How has he spent nearly this entire time like that with only a few slip ups? “Goodnight, kid. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She watches as Henry and Neal make their way up the stairs, the two of them peas in a pod, and her heart sinks again at absolutely everything. Henry is a smart kid. He’s going to understand a lot of the fallout of everything that’s inevitably going to happen, but he’s also still eight years old. There are a lot of things he’s not going to understand right now, but he’s going to understand them one day. The repercussions are going to follow him forever.

Can they still get that group rate on family therapy sessions?

Her sadistic jokes have got to stop.

Emma adjusts Ada on her shoulder, wondering when in the world she got so heavy, and carefully stands to join Killian in the kitchen where he’s putting away the leftover slices of pizza in a Tupperware container, neatly sliding it into its spot in the refrigerator before his phone chimes.

“Who’s that?”

He doesn’t answer, but she watches as his brows pinch together and the lines on his forehead all focus in on one area as the skin at his jaw convulses, Killian very obviously frustrated and focused.

She runs her hand over Ada’s back and takes a step closer to Killian. “Babe, what is it?”

“David says that Graham and some of his coworkers are going to come to the house to arrest Neal so they can question him.”

“What?”

“They’re – they want to move ahead with the investigation, to stop losing money on manpower. Apparently after talking to you they realized they weren’t going to learn anything new without Neal, and they’re willing to offer him some kind of fucking deal.”

Her heart is never going to take up residence in her chest again. It’s permanently going to live in the pit of her stomach and never return to its normal beating within her chest. At least it’s still beating because her breath has been escaping her all night.

“Right now?”

“Aye.” Killian nods his head before he drops his phone onto the countertop, the clanking loud against the marble, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around she and Ada, pulling her as flush against his chest as he can with their daughter in between them. She doesn’t even realize that she’s shivering until Killian rubs his hand up her back. He’s always doing that, and she needs him to never stop. “Take Ada upstairs, darling,” he whispers in her ear so that the warmth of his lips press into her skin and his beard scratches her. “Put her to bed and make sure that Neal is finished getting Henry to go to sleep. Our kids are going to be in bed when this happens, and when they wake up in the morning, nothing is going to be different for them, okay?”

“How do we tell Henry about any of this?”

“We’ll figure that out later. He doesn’t need to know right now. We won’t tell him until we have to.”

She nods her head against Killian’s neck and presses her lips against his collarbone. His arms fall from around her, and she moves toward the staircase to take Ada upstairs, hoping that she doesn’t wake up when Emma places her in her crib. She stirs a bit, but mostly she’s able to put Ada down without any fuss. She’s always loved this nursery, loved the calming neutral colors and decorations, and even though Ada spent most of her time in her bassinet in their bedroom, Emma can’t begin to count the hours that she spent in here nursing or reading Ada to sleep. Her baby is so full of innocence, of light, and she wishes for all the world that she could give that same innocence to Henry.

“I love you, bug,” she whispers to Ada, leaning down and brushing her lips against her forehead before pushing her hair back.

Swallowing the emotion in her throat, she walks out of the nursery and sees Neal closing Henry’s door. It’s something she grew used to in his time living here, and if she closes her eyes, it’ll be just like it was then. Neal will have read Henry one of his books, told him he loved him, and there would be no underlying history of betrayal. It would simply be a father loving his son.

But it’s not that. How can it be?

“Is he asleep?” she questions, trying not to let anything slip past that shouldn’t while she messes with the pendant on her neck, needing something to do with her hands once more.

“Out like a light. He kept talking about his goal from yesterday.”

“It was a good one.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Do you have tomorrow off of work too? When are you going home?”

Neal smiles and takes a step closer to her. She instinctively wants to take a step back, but she doesn’t. She holds her ground. “Why? You trying to get rid of me already?”

“Never. I’m glad you’re here for Henry.”

(Always. You’re a bastard, she wants to say.)

“I felt bad cancelling on him. You have to believe me on that.”

“I do. Let’s – ” she hesitates, turning her head to look back down the hallway toward the stairs, “ – let’s go downstairs. I want you to tell me a little bit more about work.”

Neal quirks a brow and tilts his head to the side, and a shiver runs down her spine in recognition that he’s studying her, that he realizes that something is off. Neal may have lied to her, may have hidden truths of his life, but they were still together for four years. He knows her, and it terrifies her that she’s somehow given something away that she’s not supposed to.

“You want to talk about my work?”

“It’s important to you.”

“Huh. I just thought I’d be in for more of a lashing because of yesterday.”

If only.

“I have nothing more to say about that,” she grits as she turns on her heel and starts to walk away so that she can compose herself. She has a hell of a lot more to say, but really, she knows that it doesn’t matter. Not now. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink.”

She doesn’t turn around, but she can feel Neal’s heavy presence behind her, a continual hovering that weighs her down over time. That’s how he’s always been, and she’s been too naïve to realize it. It’s how he works, apparently. He’s nice enough, saying and doing all of the right things only to gradually break her down and make her feel worthless. But then he’ll be sweet, do something kind for Henry, and she forgets all of the snide remarks he’s made toward her.

That’s not okay. It never has been.

“Babe,” she calls when she gets to the bottom of the stairs, “will you get Neal some whiskey?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes follow Killian as he reaches up to grab a small glass out of the upper section of the cabinet. His muscles strain under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and her eyes fall to the dark hair that covers his forearms and the veins that lie beneath them. His shirt rises to show his stomach and the strong lines there that dip into his sweatpants. Her limbs are still shaking, goosebumps covering her arms, but Killian is steady. He’s always steady.

Right now she feels so incredibly weak, but really, she knows that she’s rarely had to be this strong.

Slowly but surely Killian pours all three of them glasses of whiskey, the liquid sloshing into the glasses, and when she’s handed hers, it takes everything in her not to gulp it all down so she can feel the harsh burn of it falling down her throat. Her gaze watches her drink move, the slow steadiness of it, and she takes pleasure in the consistent back and forth movement. In the back of her mind, she knows that she, Killian, and Neal are having a conversation. She can hear her words in her own head, hear the forced sound of Killian’s laugh, and then hear the quiet murmuring of Neal’s voice.

Mostly, though, she hears the click on the door as it opens, the crunch of boots as Graham walks into their house with a woman she’s never met following behind him, and she hears Neal cursing and questioning what’s happening before suddenly legal rights are being read over the clink of handcuffs snapping together.

That’s when the muted sounds stop, when everything comes back to full volume, and she listens to the familiar sound of Neal’s voice, the one she only heard in her dreams for eight years, and the unfamiliar sound of Graham’s voice as he continues to explain what’s happening. The woman, Agent Fa apparently, thanks she and Killian for their assistance, tells them that they’ll be able to get more information tomorrow, and then she’s gone too, closing the front door behind her and letting it click into place.

She places her drink on the counter, the whiskey untouched despite her desperate desire to drink it, and it takes one and a half steps for her to fall into Killian and rest her head on his shoulder, burying her nose into his shirt so that she can smell the faintest whiff of the detergent they use. It’s that familiarity, that normalcy of the smell that grounds her as her arms tighten around his stomach and his come to rest on her back again. This time they don’t move, they don’t rub her back to reassure her. They simply stay still, a warm presence when she feels so incredibly cold.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you,” Killian mumbles into her neck, and she nods her head in response as she feels a tear slip from her eye quickly followed by another until she’s uncontrollably sobbing, every single part of today and yesterday and the past twelve years of her life coming back to her while Killian finally rubs her back up and down. “You are so brave, my love. Undoubtedly the strongest person I’ve ever come across in my life.”

She chokes on one of her sobs, air struggling to get to her lungs, and she knows that she’s got to be wiping snot on Killian’s shirt from how she can’t stop her body from falling apart.

She’s thirty one years old, and she’s lived five lifetimes worth of pain.

“Shhh, shhh,” he comforts, his hand now moving against her back, patting her every time she gasps for breath, “I have got you, Emma. I’ve got you.”

No part of her misses that he doesn’t say that she’s okay, that it’s okay, and she takes comfort in that too. There’s no point in lying.

“I love you,” she gasps in a quiet whisper that he most likely can’t hear over her. “I – don’t…I’m…can we – I really need to go to bed,” she finally gets out as she pulls back to look at Killian through her blurry vision. She blinks through the tears, trying to clear her vision, and Killian moves one hand up her arm until he’s wiping away her tears with his thumb so that she can see the tears falling down his cheeks as well.

“Let’s go to bed,” Killian agrees, and she can’t help herself from pressing up on her toes and kissing away the tear staining his cheek.

The next day is the most difficult day, she thinks, because she spends the entire day wondering what exactly comes next and wondering if she’s ever going to get the answers she craves. It almost feels similar to how she felt when she was told that Neal couldn’t be found, that he’d disappeared, that he was most likely dead. She knew for sure that he was dead, that he was gone, but the way that there were no definitives made the tiniest glimmer of hope radiate from within.

Now all that radiates is dread.

They take Henry out of school that day, she and Killian call in sick, and after they tell Henry that Neal had to go home early, his brown eyes full of disappointment, she and Killian take the kids to Willard beach, packing up a picnic and beach toys to entertain everybody since it’s still a bit too cold to get into the water despite it being early May. Henry is definitely a little down at first, the highs and lows of thinking his father is going to be around only for him to be gone the next day definitely taking a bit out of him, but when they get onto the sand and Killian starts kicking a ball back and forth with him, he seems to forget, especially when Killian purposefully kicks the ball far enough away that Henry is running with all of the speed that his legs will allow him. He runs back, red faced with his hair all a mess, but he’s smiling.

Her little boy is smiling, and that’s all that matters.

Ada keeps trying to stand only to fall down into the sand, the uneven surface not good for her as she tries to walk (oh man is Emma not ready for that for whenever it comes), and Emma spends her time helping Ada out as much as she can but mostly lifting her in the air and making her giggle as she listens to her daughter babble every little word and sound she knows.

It lifts her in ways she never thought possible.

For a few hours she forgets everything that’s going on in a police department downtown and forgets everything that’s happened in the past forty eight hours. These three people in front of her that are making her laugh as mustard gets stuck on Killian’s beard and Henry sticks his tongue out to make his little sister laugh are making her see that there is such good in the world that makes everything else seem a little less harsh.

At least for now.

Three days later the news breaks that Robert Gold has been arrested at his home in London, and it’s all a spiral from there. She and Killian have to explain to Henry what is going on, and she adds it to the list of the hardest things she’s ever done. He doesn’t understand, even when they break it down into the simplest of terms, and the first hour of the conversation is spent with him yelling at the two of them telling them how they’re liars and that his dad would never do anything, that his dad is a hero. It’s what they’ve told him his entire life, and it’s an awful dose of reality having to explain that heroes fall and that dads aren’t infallible superheroes even when it seems like it a lot of the time.

Her heart shatters once more, the pieces becoming a little more broken, and when Henry finally stops yelling, finally stops being angry at her, he falls into her arms and sobs as loudly as she’s ever heard him sob. His small frame shakes in her embrace, and no matter how tightly she holds him she can’t get it to stop.

She may be shaking too.

Emma promises that she loves him, promises that he is a good kid with a good heart, but all of her words seem to fall flat to a kid who’s finding out that his dad, the one he just got to know, is going to be in prison for the foreseeable future.

It’s twelve years.

That’s the deal he made with the FBI or Interpol or whoever the hell it is in charge of his case in exchange for giving details up about his father. David tells her that when he, Mary Margaret, Leo, and Ruth come over for dinner to try to distract Henry from everything that’s going on. Maybe to distract she and Killian too. David says things factually, Mary Margaret overly worries about if everyone is eating and drinking enough, and Ruth stays being the calm in the storm. It’s difficult dealing with all of these people worrying about her, especially when her natural tendency is still to close herself off and deal with it on her own, but they help. And weirdly, she holds herself together until Killian is video chatting with Liam to give him an update on what’s going on and she sees Caleb in the background lining up cars in a neat row.

She sobs once more, covering her mouth with her hands, as she looks at how at home that kid is. In all of this mess she hasn’t properly had time to talk to Liam and Belle, to let them know how happy she is for the two of them, and seeing them with their son breaks her down to her core.

“Birdie,” Liam coos, concern filling his voice while that same concern fills Killian’s eyes. “Lass, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, really unsure of why exactly she’s crying. She takes a step into Killian’s space and settles down on his lap while his arm comes to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as his chin rests on her shoulder, beard scratching her skin. “I’m just so happy for you guys, and I really want to hold onto my nephew. Hi, Caleb.”

Caleb looks up at her from his spot and smiles, giving her a frantic wave before he goes back to playing.

“You can’t take him away from his cars,” Liam explains, the smile on his face exactly the same as the one that Killian gets when he’s thinking about their kids. The similarity would be weird if it wasn’t so heartwarming. “He loves the things. And trains, though he doesn’t seem to like riding on them.”

“That’s pretty much how it works,” Killian laughs as he presses a warm kiss into her cheek, making her close her eyes as a slight smile forms on her lips. “Ada loves messing with her bows when they’re on the ground, but if I put one in her hair it’s like I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Where is she? I need to see her on her last day before she turns one.”

“She’s napping,” Killian sighs. “Am I not good enough to talk to you?”

“Never. Though Emma does help. She’s always elevated you.”

“Amen,” she and Killian laugh at the same time, and the comfort of it has her leaning back to rest her cheek against his while he taps his fingers against her upper thigh, squeezing the slightest bit. “We’re going to come see you guys when life is a little less crazy, okay?”

“Take your time, Birdie. We’ll always be here.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Liam has to go, and when the conversation is over, she takes a deep breath, the air around her lighter than it has been in twelve days.

“We need to bake Ada’s birthday cake.”

“Aye. We could always buy one. There’s a bakery ten minutes away.”

She places her hands over his on her stomach and pats down. “I made Henry’s first birthday cake. I want to make Ada’s even if I’m still not the best baker.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got me then.”

“Hmm, probably the best thing.” She twists her head until she can slide her lips over Killian’s, their mouths lightly brushing over each other for a minute until she pulls back. “And I want to get all of the decorations up tonight because I’m not going to be here in the morning.”

“We can do that. Are you – do you still want to go? You don’t have to.”

“I need to.”

Killian nods against her forehead, every word he says making his lips brush over hers. “I know. I can come in with you.”

“No, no. I want to…Killian, I need to do this one thing alone.”

“Of course,” he says, kissing her one more time in a way that makes her stomach melt. “I’m going to go get Henry so he can help us with the cake.”

“That sounds good.”

It’s a bit of a mess baking the cake, especially when Killian and Henry keep swiping icing out of her bowl, but they do make progress on Ada’s lady bug cake. She’s turning one and won’t care what kind of cake she’s eating as long as there’s sugar involved, but this is her baby, her little lady bug, and dammit if Emma’s not going to make sure she has a good first birthday. Her boys end up being bigger helps than she expects, and Henry has a great time placing the black dots onto the rounded red cake. Just like everything else they’ve been doing, it takes her mind off of everything.

Seeing Henry be happy makes all of the difference to her when he’s been having a really difficult time. Dr. Hopper tells her that he’s handling everything as well as can be expected, and she has to take comfort in that. Dr. Lawrence says the same thing about her, and yet it’s still harder for her to accept that.

“You’re a regular star chef,” she tells Henry, wiping a bit of icing off of his face.

“I am pretty good, aren’t I?”

“Fantastic. I think your sister’s going to love this cake even more because you made it.”

“She’s a baby, Momma. She doesn’t care.”

“But she loves you,” Emma promises, pulling him into her side and pressing a smacking kiss into his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I go outside now?”

“Of course, kid. Let me get some sunblock on you, though.”

“Mom,” he groans, resting his head against the countertop in despair. “I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do, lad,” Killian adds in. “Unless you want to end up all shriveled and wrinkly like a raisin.”

“I like raisins.”

Killian rolls his eyes before winking at her. “You’re wearing sunscreen. Let’s go.”

The baby monitor goes off to show that there’s movement in the nursery, and she opens up the app on her phone to see Ada propping herself up on the crib grabbing at her mobile to reach for the little red crabs. She’s cried so much more than any human being should cry recently, and even though she knows she’s going to be emotional over her kid turning one, over the memories of that day nearly three hundred and sixty five days ago, it’s a good kind of emotional. She’s here and alive and healthy as can be.

She and Killian did a good job when it comes to that chubby-legged menace even if one day she’s going to turn on them and try to get out of having to wear sunscreen.

Among other things.

After spending the rest of her day with her family, keeping things as normal as possible, she has a restless sleep, constantly tossing and turning around on the mattress. At one point, Killian tugs her into his front and wraps his arm around her middle while sticking his legs between hers, and she knows it’s because she’s driving him crazy with her basically running a marathon while in bed. It helps to feel his solid warmth behind her, but when Killian falls back asleep, his grip on her relents and she keeps moving. In the morning, she knows that she’d eventually fallen asleep because of the way she jerks when the alarm goes off, and even though she needs more rest, she immediately gets up and takes a shower, readying herself as if she was getting ready for her daughter’s first birthday party this afternoon.

Once she’s dressed, eyeliner applied to her eyes and her natural waves curled a little more, she quietly pads down the hallway and into the nursery to see Ada. She’s still asleep, her lips curved into a serene smile, and all Emma can do is lean down and press her lips to Ada’s forehead once more before she walks down the hallway only to find Killian standing against their bedroom door with his hair sticking up in several different directions and his arms crossed over his chest, one brow raised on his forehead.

“Did you really think you were going to slip out without me knowing?”

“I was coming back to tell you I’m leaving.” He nods his head, and she steps into his space, placing her hands against his chest so that she can feel the beating of his heart as she looks up at his tired eyes. “I’m going to be back before two, and we’re going to go on with our day like nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“You’re going to talk to Neal in prison. That’s not ordinary.”

“I need answers, Killian. He may not give them to me, but I have to ask. I deserve to know.”

“I can still come with you. Ruth can watch the kids.”

“I still think I want to do this on my own, but thank you.” She presses up on her toes and slowly slides her lips over his in a gentle caress. “I love you, and I’ll text you when I get there and when I leave, okay?”

“Alright. I love you too.”

She studies Killian’s face for a moment more, making sure that he’s okay, before patting his chest and stepping away so that she can go downstairs. For as weirdly calm as she is, she doesn’t want to risk anything by putting too much on her stomach or drinking enough caffeine to make her jittery, so she simply grabs a water bottle and her keys before leaving the house. It’s an hour and a half drive to New Hampshire, and despite her running into a bit of early morning traffic, she makes good time.

Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, she doesn’t know, but she’s in the prison’s parking lot thirty minutes before visitors are allowed in.

There’s something she never thought she’d think.

She texts Killian that she’s here, and leaves her phone in the car before going inside and going through security after filling out all of the paperwork. It’s insane, but being here makes her feel better than she did last night. Worrying makes the reality worse before reality even gets a chance to happen, but that’s never stopped her from tossing and turning at night.

Obviously.

When she’s told that she can go inside the room, she takes a deep breath to settle the still nervous set of her stomach and finds herself settling down onto one of the center tables while the other people fill in the spots around her. A ringer goes off, a harsh buzz surrounding her, and her head turns to the side as a sliding door opens and several men in gray jumpsuits walk out. She doesn’t recognize any of them, wouldn’t expect herself to, and for a moment she thinks that Neal isn’t going to come and talk to her until he rounds the corner and enters the room after a guard.

It’s…she doesn’t like seeing him like this. He was wrong, is a criminal who hurt a lot of people even if he wasn’t actively hurting them, and he hurt her in a way that’s permanently going to affect her, as well as Henry. She’s so undeniably pissed and broken, but there are still good memories of him buried not too deeply in her brain.

She’s a mess.

Unlike a lot of other people in the room, she doesn’t get up to hug him. Instead she stays sitting and nods while he cautiously slides onto the bench in front of her with his unshaved beard and unruly hair.

“Never thought I’d see you,” he greets, curving the right side of his lips into a smile that she doesn’t return.

“Surely you didn’t think that I was never going to come.”

“Didn’t think you cared about me anymore.”

“Whether I like it or not, Neal, a part of me will always care about you,” she admits, leaning forward and placing her joined hands on the table. “How are you doing?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been in captivity, and honestly, this is a hell of a lot nicer than the first time.”

He’s trying to joke, probably to cut away some of the tension between them, but to her, all it does it make it grow.

“Why’d you do it?” she blurts out, figuring that she may as well get straight down to why she’s here. She’s got other things to do today, and if she’s not going to get her answers, she doesn’t want to wait.

He shrugs on the other side of the table, the wood dividing them in more ways than one. It’s still so surreal that this is happening. In all of her wildest dreams (nightmares), this was never one of them. There was never one even similar to this. This is…this is the absolute last place she ever expected to find Neal.

“I wasn’t always a bad guy, Ems.”

She flinches at that, but she also knows that it’s true. He wasn’t. He’s never been the best man in the world, but she loved him. She loved him before he died and she loved him in a way when he came back and got to be a part of their lives, even if it caused them all problems for a little while. But he was alive, he was here, and she was happy to have him home.

But that was then. She isn’t any longer.

“No, you weren’t,” she agrees, giving him a soft smile even if her heart feels hardened over it all, the smile more forced than anything. “But you abandoned me, Neal. You abandoned your son. A part of me doesn’t even care about all of the arms trafficking, which, holy shit is that fucked up on so many levels, but you left us. You told me over and over again that you loved me, and you left us. Why?”

His shoulders sag, his back falling toward the open air instead of leaning forward. She honestly didn’t expect him to talk to her at all, but she needed to know answers. She can’t live without them again when she’s already spent so much of her life that way when it comes to her birth parents and the eight years that Neal was gone. She deserves more, always has, and one day when Henry is older and can understand all of this, he deserves more too.

“I really was captured,” he starts, drumming his fingers on the table so that she focuses on his fingers instead of his face. “That part is true, Ems, you have to believe me. I was captured and tortured and beaten, and even though I was a shitty husband to you at the end, I did think about you and Henry to get me through it all. But then my dad – he made a deal to get me out, and I had the opportunity to come home to you guys. I was going to, but I…After everything that happened, I just needed a fresh start. I could have everything, all the things I couldn’t have at home by staying and working with my dad. I could have freedom and money and – ”

“Women who didn’t have abandonment issues and a newborn baby.”

“Ems.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

His lips part before snapping shut again, a subtle nod of his head. It’s almost like he’s accepted what’s happening, that he’s not going to deny it, and of everything, that shocks her most of all.

Asshole.

“What do you want?” he finally says.

“The truth.”

“It’s not simple.”

“I just want to know, Neal. I get it. You’re selfish. You wanted a new life where Henry and I weren’t going to hold you back, and your apparently alive father helped you out with that because he freaking had contacts with actual terrorists. I don’t – you don’t need to break my heart again by telling me that you abandoned me and lied to me when you knew I had issues with that. But I do need to know why you came back. And damn it, if you have any decency at all, I need you to tell me about all of that so I can stop wondering.”

His jaw ticks, but he nods his head anyways and she feels such apprehension but mostly relief that she gets to know.

“My dad and I had a plan. We knew if I came back home and everyone thought I’d survived for nearly a decade under captivity, I’d be hailed as some kind of American hero. It’s why I did the interview, why I continuously sought out the attention. I wanted people to know my name because our goal was Congress.”

Congress, she thinks. Why would his goal be Congress? How would that…

“You bastard. That’s why took the job in the State Department. That’s why you were so insistent on moving back to DC even though we had a life in Portland. What was the plan? Schmooze politicians and try to change laws for some kind of way to make your dad’s business bigger?”

He shrugs again, and she knows that she’s right. “That’s the gist of it, but me working at the State Department was a bit of a roadblock. I – I didn’t know that you were with Killian. I checked to see if you had remarried, but since you guys aren’t married, there was no record. I didn’t think to check for kids. I didn’t…I figured you hadn’t moved on from me, so I came back. We were going to be reunited, and it was going to be this big thing where our family made us this kind of all American dream that helped propel me more toward a role in Congress so I could make contacts in the government and help ease our sales.”

“You don’t need to sugarcoat it. You haven’t with anything else. Bribes. That’s what easing sales means, right? And what, you thought that I was sitting around waiting for you for a decade? How self centered are you?”

“I missed you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.”

“You left me, Neal,” she yells, making everyone in the room look at her before she quiets her voice. “There is no changing that. You abandoned your family, and I mourned you every day of those eight years. But I also grew the hell up, realized how shitty you treated me, and I allowed myself to find happiness again. Happiness that you didn’t seem to care about and yet suddenly resented when you found out I had it with someone else. And now you’re telling me that you were going to use me? You were going to use us to paint this pretty portrait to further your business and to seriously fuck up an already fucked up system? That’s – that’s…you’re a dick. I can’t even believe any of that, and yet I can. After all of this I can. I mean, God, you don’t even care about me or Henry, and yet you pulled all of that shit about how you are Henry’s dad and Killian isn’t. You tried to poison that kid against the man who raised him out of some petty jealousy, and I…did you ever even love me?”

She doesn’t know how she got that question, not really, but deep down it’s been blazing its way to the surface, breaking its way through every other muddled thought that she’s been pushing down.

She’s not even sure if she wants to know the answer.

“I’ve always loved you even if I didn’t know how to show it. I’m a selfish man, Emma. I always have been. My father is too, and it’s the only thing I ever knew growing up. I guess I couldn’t help myself. But yeah, I fucked up. I fucked it all up, and none of it worked. I’m…I guess I’m sorry that I dragged you all into this, but you were never supposed to find out about my dad or that I hadn’t been in captivity the entire time. It was part of why I was distancing myself from you guys. Yes, it was to go along with the plan, but I also didn’t want Henry to get hurt. And I guess I let myself have feelings for you again, and I was pissed that I couldn’t have you and couldn’t have the relationship Henry has with Killian.”

“That’s your own damned fault.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“I don’t think you know anything about what it’s like to have a family.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

She laughs, one of those dark laughs that makes her own skin crawl, and while she’s trying to contain herself, she rubs the heels of her hands just below her eyes. When her chest has stopped heaving, the rage calming itself for a minute, she looks directly into the eyes of the man who she once loved more than anyone in the world.

“I know more about family than you ever have, and I may screw up a hell of a lot, but I would never abandon the people I love for some money and the ability to fuck around. I would never abandon them for anything.” Emma presses her lips together before standing from the bench and leaning forward on the table. “You know, all that time that you were gone I wished you were alive, but now, I wish you were dead.”

With that, she gets up and walks from the room. He doesn’t deserve more of her time, and she doesn’t need anything else from him.

Walking out of the gates of the prison and loading up into her car is exhilarating, and as she drives down the open highway with music blaring through the speakers, she feels free. She hadn’t realized that she felt trapped until now, but the shackles that have been holding her down are no longer binding. She knows that this is all something that’s going to stay with her for the rest of her life, but that doesn’t have to stop her from living.

When she gets home, she quickly parks in the garage and steps through the door into the kitchen. There’s a spread of finger foods on the island that makes it look like it’s a Saturday and Killian is having his friends over to watch a soccer match with Henry excitedly following him around wearing whatever jersey he’s decided on today, and she smiles a little as she picks up a carrot and dips it into the sauce that’s in a bowl. Killian took the day off of work today so she could go see Neal and so they could have everybody over this afternoon for Ada’s party.

“Babe,” she calls out, grabbing another carrot and walking to the living room where she finds Killian laid out on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and Ada sleeping in just her diaper on top of him. “Kid,” she asks Henry as he sits quietly reading his book in the arm chair, “why in the world is your daddy asleep?”

“He said that hosting people is exhausting, and he needed to nap with Ada.”

She hums in acknowledgement and walks over to Henry, shimmying down to sit in the chair next to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “What have you guys been doing all day?”

“Getting ready for Ada’s party. I wanted to see if I could catch real ladybugs outside, but Dad said I couldn’t put them into the food.”

��Gross.”

“No, cool.”

“We’re not eating bugs.”

“But what’s the point of having a ladybug party if there are no bugs?”

“Because it’s cute, and it’s our nickname for Ada. But for your birthday, if you want to have a bug themed party, we’ll have lots of bugs…just outside, okay?”

“I think I want to go out on a boat for my party.”

“We should definitely do that,” Killian pipes in, sitting up on the couch and sliding Ada down onto his lap.

“Oh look, Henry, you said the magic words to wake your dad up.”

“Ha ha,” Killian mocks, rolling his eyes before he rubs the sleep out of them. “When’d you get home, love?”

“About three minutes ago. I’ll tell you about everything later, but I think right now we have to go get my bug dressed for her party.”

“What? The diaper look doesn’t work for you?”

“Only when we’re eating the cake.”

Emma takes Ada from Killian and walks her upstairs to change her diaper and get her dressed in the romper Emma has for her. It’s a hassle, but she gets the headband on her too, brushing back her slight curls as she tells Ada the story of the day she was born. She does the same thing with Henry, even if she has to embellish the details, and she takes the time to appreciate that Ada can’t complain about Emma getting all sentimental as she talks about that painful, magical day. Ada will hate hearing about one day, but it’ll forever be one of the best days of Emma’s life.

Her mom, David, Mary Margaret, and Leo show up an hour later, Ruby, Robin, and Roland following behind them as well as a few of Henry’s friends from school that she told him he could invite. Everyone is aware of what’s been happening lately, most of them intimately so, but none of them mention it as they laugh and talk and have the carefree time that she’s wanted for today. Ada loves all of the attention, really hams it up for everybody, and she laughs at her continuously trying to steal everybody’s food even if Henry is the one actually swiping food.

But eventually it’s time for Ada to finally get to smash into her birthday cake – because what better idea is there than giving a child that much sugar – and she, Killian, and Henry crowd around Ada’s high chair so that Mary Margaret can take a picture of the four of them before Killian lights the candle and they all sing. For the briefest of moments, she looks over to Killian, and he winks in return before threading his fingers through hers.

When the song is over, everyone claps, Ada moving her hands along with them, and Emma leans down to blow out the candle for Ada, extinguishing the light on the completion of one year and signaling the beginning of a new one.

[amazinggirl55]

My extremely long rant about sexism in Asia

So anybody who thinks the most sexist country is America has clearly never been to Asia. In Asia women go through so much and I want to highlight some of that with my own experiences/knowledge. I’d be really grateful to anyone who reads this all the way down.

But first, a little backstory. I was three years old when my parents moved to America and twelve years old when we moved back to our home country. My home country is in Central Asia. It’s a third world country. That was three years ago. Now I’ve lived here for three years and I’ve seen so many things that infuriate me. But let’s start small.

Because this is Central Asia, we’ve been having problems with terrorist websites. There was this one app where you start playing and you end up committing suicide. It doesn’t matter how mentally healthy you started off, they have their ways of sinking their claws into you and backing you into a corner until you don’t see a way out. Anyways, one day, I was at my grandma’s house and there were some guests there. I remember we were talking about this website, and my older brother made a joke about my cousin trying it out. Everyone laughed. My cousin made a joke about one of the guests also playing it. My brother also said he wants to try it out. Everyone laughed at these two jokes as well. Then I made a joke saying pretty much the same thing and you know what kind of reaction I got? Dead silence, until my mother said, super serious “I will disown you if you ever play that game.” When I asked why she didn’t have the same reaction to my brother, who said the same thing, she said “you’re a girl, you’re not allowed to make these kind of jokes.”

Another similar scenario. I was at my grandma’s house (again) and I remember I was so fucking mad. I was furious. I don’t remember what happened, but I know it was something serious. As in, I wasn’t just being moody or petty. There was an actual legitimate reason for my anger. A lot of my close family members were there. I was fuming and trying to control my anger and you know what my grandpa said? He said “don’t be angry, you’re a girl. Girls aren’t allowed to be angry.” My grandpa literally told me that I was supposed to be some little delicate flower that always agreed with other people and backed down from arguments. And that made me so much more pissed off. I remember I was crying angry tears and I had no outlet. I didn’t know what to do. There were so many people, all of them were waiting for me to calm down and apologize like a good little girl. My mother was angry at me for losing my cool. And I was just wondering what I’d done to deserve such a family.

I remember, when my brother and I still went to the same school, my brother had told on me about how I act around guys. How I start conversations and go up to my classmates and start annoying them when I’m bored. To Americans or Europeans, that’s not a big deal, heck it’s not a deal at all, but apparently it’s a huge fucking deal for these stupid ass Asians. My mom got mad at me and started talking about how I shouldn’t act like that and blah blah blah. My cousin was also there (a girl cousin this time) and the two of them agreed that the only circumstances on which I was allowed to talk to to guy is is and only if, I was with a friend (that’s a girl, duh) and a guy came up to me asking about schoolwork, was I allowed to talk to guys. Now can someone tell me how fucking ridiculous that is?! There are millions of girls out there who have guys as best friends where I literally can’t shake a guy’s hand without feeling like I’m disappointing my mother.

One question you might have is, what kind of stuff do you wear? Well, I wear whatever my mom lets me. Which isn’t all that much when I think about it. For example, I don’t own a single pair of jeans or pants. The shortest thing I have goes to my knees. Makeup? Hahahahaha no. That’s not even something I can think about. I’m only allowed to wear makeup after I get married. Most types of jewelry? After I get married. Pretty much anything with sequins or shiny stuff? After I get married. All my life, I’d ask my mom if I could wear makeup or put on this earring or go to this wedding or party and my answer would always be “after you get married” and it’s always pissed me off. Even today, my aunt gave me this really nice bracelet and my mom told me she’d give it to me after I got married.

Now I know what you’re all thinking, if I’m not allowed to interact with guys (and most other girls have similar limitations as well), how the hell am I expected to get married? Well the answer is rather simple. When I turn 16/17, depending on how pretty I am and how rich my family is and a few other stuff, mothers will starts coming to my door to talk to my mother about marrying me and their son together. Oftentimes, it will be the guy who sends his mother to a girl’s house. Sometimes the guy also has no choice, but that’s a lot more rare than a girl with no choice. If my father decides that he likes that family (or if they’re rich enough) he’ll say that I can marry that guy. My age won’t matter. If I’m 16, maybe they’ll wait for a while, maybe they won’t. Once the wedding is over, I get a lot of stuff. And I mean a lot. The family of the groom sends a lot of gifts and all the stuff that my mom has saved for me over the years will finally be mine. So does this mean I can wear whatever I want and go wherever I want? No, it doesn’t. It means, if my husband is lenient, if he says I can do this and that and if my mother in law lets me, I can do some stuff, within reason. Now, I’m maybe 18/19 at this point. I’m married, I wear makeup all the time, maybe I go to university if my husband is kind enough to let me go and what’s the logical next step? Kids. If I don’t get pregnant within the year, most people will gossip about if something is wrong and what not. Everyone will be pressuring me to have a kid. Once I do have that kid, I’ll raise him or her. I’ll stop going to university, or maybe I’ll be able to finish by some miracle, but it won’t matter because my husband won’t let me go to work anyways. And why would he? I have an infant to take care of. Why should I be going to work? And then I’ll probably have some more kids and raise them too. And then my first kid will be old enough to get married and I’ll marry them off (or get them a wife, depending of their gender) and then I’ll take care of their kid all the time because if they’re a guy, they’ll still be living with me. All my life, I will listen to what my parents and brother told me, then my husband and parents in law (and if I have older siblings in law, them too) and and then I’ll just raise my kids and forever live for someone else. I’ll never be able to live for me or be independent. (Side note, the whole ‘I’ theme I have going on this whole paragraph isn’t exactly accurate, but I do know many, many women who have lived through such a life and more women who are currently living such a life. The only reason I kept saying I is because I didn’t want to use different pronouns and get myself confused. Trust me, my fate will most likely be very different from this) (this is the only part of this whole thing that’s not about me personally)

And now, I’ll share what happened today. Today is August 20th and it’s a big Muslim holiday. My mom woke me up at 7:00 AM and my dad was pissed that I woke up so late. (Which is fucking bullshit, because all summer long, I’ve been waking up at 9-11 and no one gave a damn). My mom was telling me how my dad said a bunch of stuff to her about me. But that was only the start of the day. Then we all went to my grandma’s house (they live down the street which is why we’re always there) and my cousin’s cousin was also there. (I’m not related to him and I know him very distantly). All the males sat on the table, but because there were no room for the girls, we all ate on the floor with a table cloth (it’s not as bad as it sounds, it’s actually part of our culture to eat on the floor) and when we were done eating, some people left. There were just enough people to fit at the table, with me as the only person with no place to sit. I was eating some watermelon, standing next to that guy (my cousin’s cousin, who is 18) and my mom motioned me to go somewhere else to eat it. Now this guy, he could care less about me. He wasn’t even looking at me, but my mom was telling me not to be anywhere near the table, on the off chance that he... I don’t even know what she was so afraid of. What would he possibly have done?! But that’s okay, that doesn’t matter. After a while, my parents and my siblings went to my other grandma’s house, who lives pretty far away. When we got there, there were a bunch of people. A lot of the women were doing chores and the only guys (my mom’s cousins) were sitting at the table outside. I went inside and sat around for a while. I will admit I didn’t do any chores during that time. My mom said we’d all go outside and eat there (it’d been a couple of hours since lunch), so I went outside and the only people sitting down were my dad, my mom’s cousin and my 6 year old sister. There were a few women doing this and that. I asked (in English) where I should sit. My dad gave me the dirtiest look and told me to go inside and eat with the woman. I told him nobody was eating inside, so he told me to go help with the chores. I was pretty angry, but I didn’t say anything. I just went inside and ate my food quietly. All of the little kids were playing with water guns outside and my brother joined them for a while. Everyone was laughing and smiling. After a while (my brother had already started doing something else) I started playing with them too and everyone was all like “you’re getting wet” “you don’t have any other clothes” “what are you doing, you’re a big girl” and all that shit. So I stopped and I went inside. Some time later, the men had dinner outside, while the women ate inside. My mom and aunt went outside and sat with their husbands and cousins. I stayed inside. I did some chores and helped out my other aunt. When I finally went outside, hopefully to get a drink and maybe finally get to talk or something, my mom immediately started giving me the empty plates and dishes. When I was trying to drink a cup of Fanta, I was handed a plate with a cup on it, and while I was still drinking, she kept handing me stuff as if she expected me to put it on my heads or something. I was barely able to balance it on the plate with one hand. Eventually, I finished cleaning (after I was almost done, my mom started getting the little kids to help me) and sat down for a few minutes and then we had to leave. In the car, I sarcastically thanked my mom for an amazing holiday and she was like “what do you mean” as if she literally has no idea why I didn’t like this holiday. And then she was like “what? you’re not going to go to your grandma’s anymore?” (We go to my grandma’s house literally every week and the other grandma’s every day) and I said “yeah, you all force me to go” and she ended the conversation by saying “I’m not even going to think about this or I’m going to get so mad” as if she had any right to be mad at what I was saying.

I know that almost all of this was a rant about my personal experiences, but this was partly to get some stuff off my chest and partly to show you guys what Asian girls go through. Every day, we’re told not to compare ourselves to our brothers and cousins, because they’re guys and we’re not. Every day, we’re told to keep our heads down and our mouths shut and not complain. Every day, we’re told that we’re girls and we were created to do housework. Every day, we’re told that we’re not equal to men. And you know what’s even worse? Every girl in this country believes it. They don’t know what feminism is, or what sexism is, or why they would ever stand up to their brothers or fathers or husbands. They believe that they’re the belongings of the oldest man in the house and that it’s their job to clean and cook for everyone. They don’t even know that this isn’t how it works in other countries. They just do as they’re told and live by the orders of the men in their lives.

Now I want to note something important here. My life isn’t all that bad. Yes, my parents and relatives can be misogynistic as hell at times, but they’re also considered to be very open minded amongst other people who live here. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t even know that this kind of behavior/treatment isn’t the norm. My parents allow me to do many things that I know for a fact other girls aren’t allowed to do. So I guess, for as bad as I think I have it sometimes, there are millions of girls who have it much worse and don’t even know of anything different.

But please, don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to trivialize American or European girls’ problems or experiences by saying that mine are worse. The pink tax, equal pay, sexual harassment (on women or men), misogynistic dress codes, unfair laws or regulations, victim blaming, etc they’re all a huge problem and everyone should be working together to fix these issues, but they should also acknowledge that there are women who are being treated horribly on an endless cycle where pretty much no one gives a damn.

I’m not going to ask for reblogs or likes, but I would like to talk to people who have gone through a similar experience to mine, so if anyone can agree with what I’m saying, please message me and we can talk about the similarities and differences in our situations.

And for anyone who read all the way down here, man you deserve to be called a saint.

[ivarinleatherpants]

ok, OTP questions all of them. Or one through ten. Or one through five. You know what, I don't care. Gimme, I'm desperate.

Whelp, we’ll see how many of these I can get through! XD

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

-Ivar. Totally Ivar. He’s the one who has never needed to stick to a budget, and he loves spoiling Gwen with all the nice things she could never afford growing up.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

-Ivar wants Gwen to sit in his lap more, but she gets worried about hurting his legs. More often, it’s Ivar who ends up falling asleep with his head in her lap while she runs her hand through his hair.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

-Pfft. Ivar, obviously. The second he comes home the shirt comes off. Gwen doesn’t mind so much, but she needs to get stuff done, dammit! She can’t keep getting distracted by the... arms... and... the other muscles... and...

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

-It’s pretty equal. Though Ivar’s the one who’s more likely to actually be out all night. He loves to go to punk concerts or to play with his band, but Gwen doesn’t like the noise and crowds. Sometimes she’ll come pick him up, but a lot of times she just waits for him to come home.

It probably doesn’t help that he always gets very... erm... energetic... after all the adrenaline. Then he comes home with his full punk-regalia on, his makeup all smudged and his hair messy and... yeah...

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

-Gwen. She’s a competent cook, and can make a decent meal, but she has to have a recipe she can follow or else things can get out of hand. Ivar is just proud of her for trying to go out of her comfort zone, even though she can’t cook a steak to save her life.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

-Ivar doesn’t know what an OTP prompt even is, and teases Gwen horribly for reading fanfiction.

Ivar: *Gleefully* This is straight-up porn, Ging!

Gwen: GIVE THAT BACK THIS MINUTE!

Ivar: Metal arms? Really? Is that your thing, babe? Blue eyes and a bit broken?

Gwen: I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN!

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

-Gwen totally wears Ivar’s shirts.

It’s unlikely anything but Gwen’s most over-sized ugly sweaters would fit Ivar.

Not that he’s ever tried or anything... but there was that one pair of pants that would have gone SO well with his jacket...

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

-Again, probably equal. Gwen does a lot of the shopping early on, just because-again-Ivar had no clue how to shop frugally. But later on she ends up working at Kattegat U as a research scientist/teacher, and he has Heathen Hotrods so he can stay home with the kids, he ends up running a lot of the errands.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

-Depends. They both like to drive. There are some cars Ivar prefers to drive, but he categorically refuses to drive Gwen’s Subaru Mom-mobile, so it’s a toss-up. It also depends of in one is more tired, or if Ivar’s legs are hurting more than usual.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

-Gwen is the only one who draws, but she doesn’t do people. Ivar does like to take pictures, though, and has quite the collection *wink wink nudge nudge*.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

-Ivar is the backflipper, while Gwen would be following behind, shouting at him to be more careful and STOP doing that he’s going to hurt himself!

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

-Oddly enough, Gwen is probably more likely to overdo it. She doesn’t know her own limits the way Ivar does. He’s good at keeping an eye on her and letting her have fun, but making sure she drinks water and stops before she makes herself really sick.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

-They’re both the sort to get little things just because it makes them think of the other. Ivar probably a little bit more, just because he’s more financially spontaneous. 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

-Gwen hyphenates when they get married. Ivar proudly introduces them as Dr. and Mr. Wessex-Lothbrok. It gets to the point where he sometimes forgets he didn’t actually change his name. XD

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

-Neither of them are super bothered by spiders. Unless it’s a really big one and it shows up in the shower, then both of them are likely to shriek and cry for help.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

-Gwen probably spends more time wearing Ivar’s jackets than he does. She doesn’t even have to indicate that she’s cold, he just has this sort of sixth sense and immediately swoops in like some leather-clad savior.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

-I think this is pretty obvious, considering it’s already happened. lol. It’s a long time before Ivar and Aethelred actually start to get along, and even longer before they can really be considered ‘friends’. 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

-Let’s see. Ivar pretty much jumped in head first, but Gwen was the first to say “I love you”. It’s easy for him to be affectionate, but hard for him to talk seriously about his feelings. Whereas Gwen grew up in a family that was much more open about that sort of thing.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

-They both have their strengths and weaknesses. Gwen has less experience with kids, and is pretty uncomfortable with them when she first meets Ivar’s huge family. He’s the one who is the most gung-ho about having kids, but isn’t actually all that into kids that aren’t his own.

With their kids, Ivar is really good at handling the not-so-serious stuff, the tantrums over silly things that Gwen has a hard time being patient with. But it’s really hard for him if one of his kids is really hurt, whereas Gwen is very good at remaining calm during crises. 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

-They’re both grammar Nazis, and mock Alfred for using numbers and other text shorthand.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

-They will both come in, guns blazing, if someone tries to hurt the other. They even aggressively defend each other against themselves. Self-deprecation is met with physical assaults with deadly plushies.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

-Ivar makes ALL the bad puns, and is SO happy when he’s finally able to legitimately use dad humor. Gwen pretends to cringe, but she actually thinks he’s really funny.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

-Gwen has come home to find a new animal many times. Many, many times. Once it was a daschaund puppy that had lost all it’s fur (Napoleon), another time it was a mini horse in their shed. Ivar argues that he tried to say ‘no’, but the kids insisted.

Ivar: No guys, we aren’t adopting the horse.

Judah (a.k.a Ivar Jr.): *Slapping his little four-year-old hand down emphatically* Daddy! He needs a famiwy!

Alyssa (a.k.a Gwen Jr): *Two and already running the world with an iron pout* Pony! Pony!

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

-Ivar: Are you tired? Wanna ride on my back?

Gwen: No.

Ivar: Giiing! C’moooon!

Gwen: No! Your legs are already going to be hurting from all this walking!

Ivar: Ging, get over her and let me carry you!

Gwen: No, you can’t make me!

*Continues, ad infinitum.*

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

-Ivar is more likely to play a sport, but really, he’s the shameless fanboy. Gwen’s maybe tried to leave him at home once or twice when she’s getting an award of some kind, because he makes that bad of a ruckus.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

-Ivar. He just can’t get enough of his cutie-patootie. Gwen protests that her drooling isn’t cute, and if he doesn’t delete that right now, so help her...

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

-Also Ivar. The few times Gwen’s gone with him to a show, she lets him give her a full punk makeover. Just in general he likes to pick out her clothes. He may know the contents of her closet slightly better than she does.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

-Neither of them is really afraid of the other’s pet, but Gwen is deeply suspicious of Napoleon on occasion. She’s sure he’s not as innocent as he looks, especially considering the number of times he’s conned Ivar into letting him sleep in their bed.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

-Ivar has a strong streak of chivalry, hammered into him since birth by Aslaug. She taught him how to behave in high society, and there’s certain things that he still does on instinct.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

-They’re both homebodies to a certain extent, so they wouldn’t be constantly travelling, but they’d still like to visit other countries. Especially Ivar, who loves history. They probably take a couple trips every year. Gwen plans out the itinerary and makes Ivar stick to it despite his tendency to wander off. They like to see historical sites and go to museums. Probably a good mix of exciting stuff like amusement parks, and just chilling in a nice hotel somewhere scenic.

Ivar, of course, brings two or three cameras along and uses all of them.