#i think i'm getting quite tired of people pretending it's some masterpiece

[razmerry]

actually I have another piece of ENTIRELY unrelated petty beef but this one is about narrative. having now listened to the whole studio album I have to say I really don't care for the direction that odysseus's character arc was taken in. if this were an entirely unique story, then "a man who starts as a noble, kind, naive hero is ground down by tragedy after tragedy and learns to be cruel" would be perfectly fine, but this is famously NOT who odysseus is?

like if you are setting this story within the canonical odyssey, odysseus is the man who created the trojan horse, and participated in the brutal slaughter of hundreds of civilians. like yes he didn't want to participate in the war and yes he's not as bloodthirsty as many greek heroes but he is not kind and gentle?? his whole characterization is as someone who will always do what it takes to survive through his cleverness, since the beginning. literally odysseus already knows about ruthlessness, the man created the world's first giant death trap that he used to let the greek army stab innocent people to death. the reason he blinded polyphemus instead of killing him was not out of mercy, it's because they were trapped in the cave and they needed polyphemus to open the door!! if you were going to do ANY updated take on odysseus as a person it could have been an arrogant king learning humility and forced to confront the individuality of the people who suffer for him, and that being too clever for his own good has consequences of its actionssss

this isn't me saying you're a bad person for liking odysseus either, he's a phenomenal epic hero, I've always loved how he's written, and his love and devotion to penelope was so strong it literally created new words. but the way he's characterized in epic feels so... sanded down, for lack of a better word. it's very modern and not willing to really confront the brutality of greek myths (and THIS gets into another one of my problems of the jarring usage of modern and classic dialogue, AND FURTHERMORE - )

if I may engage in epic: the musical haterism for but a moment, when I started hearing songs from it I thought "huh, these are catchy, but they all kind of sound... the same?" and now that I have finally listened to the full studio album, I have confirmed that I can't tell 90% of the songs apart

[bumblesimagines]

Lie

Request: Yes or No

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

"Yeah, nah, man. (Y/N) is dope, but he's just not my type, ya know? I think I was just.. Experimenting with what I like." Chuck explained to his friends. (Y/N) played with his lighter, flickering it on and off as an amused smile tugged at his lips. He pretended not to listen, headphones in but music low.

"I hope we can stay friends cause he's the chillest guy I know." He finally brought the lighter up to his cigarette, lighting it and flicking it off.

"He was kind of.. Controlling in a way? Not possessive or toxic. You know how chicks get when they think you're cheating? Like that." (Y/N) almost snorted but held it back. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and stood up from the bench, passing by the guys without a glance.

Yeah, I heard you said I ain't the type for you

I don't regret it though, I learned from it

They should have you locked up for all the time you stole from us (Woo)

Took you out when I had no money

Only person that you ever cared about was you, that's why it's so funny

(Y/N) didn't have much of reaction when news spread of his and Chuck's breakup. He found it a bit amusing. Chuck tried to make people feel bad for him but at the same time make (Y/N) look good as well. Maybe from guilt or to keep (Y/N) as a just in case. He knew there was good inside of Chuck but he didn't expect much from the relationship. He tried to make it work but you can only try so much before giving up. The only thing (Y/N) really regretted was the time wasted on an empty relationship.

You want somebody that'll keep you warm at night

Then, tell me, why you actin' cold to me?

You ain't the only one to blame, no, I'm the one that made you rich

When I bought every lie you sold to me

Yeah, heard you threw away the pictures

But you still got the memories of us

So I guess I don't really make a difference

After the playbook, nobody really wanted to be friends with Chuck. So, when (Y/N) showed slight interest, Chuck pounced at it. Though, it seemed to have been a waste of time since he deleted all their pictures off social media. (Y/N) knew there was a romance, a spark, between Josie and Chuck. But Chuck assured (Y/N) that they were just friends. (Y/N) tried to believe him but at the end, he knew it was a lie.

Flippin' through 'em in your head

Got you texting me all hours of the night

Yeah, you told me that you needed distance

What's the deal with you?

You say you want a man that keeps it real

Then why you mad when I get real with you?

You want someone to pay the bills for you

Went from feelin' you, now I feel for you, liar

(Y/N) had to put his phone on mute thanks to Chuck. If he didn't, he'd be up all night hearing the nofications from Chuck and his texts. Crazy how Chuck wanted distance yet he was the one trying to stay close. (Y/N) had started to like Chuck, mostly going out with him out of pity, but that changed a few months into the relationship. People had started warming up to him again and (Y/N) quickly realized that he was just a tool to get on everyone's good side again. It was annoying.

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

"Hey, (N/N), how's everything going?" Betty asked, nimbling on her bottom lip as she watched him. He furrowed his brows.

"Good, why wouldn't it be?" He questioned.

"Because of the breakup?" It was Betty's turn to be confused. (Y/N) blinked and nodded.

"Oh, right, yeah." He nodded, giving a sheepish smile. "I've got a lot on my mind. I'm actually sketching out a new idea." Betty smiled.

"Really? That's good. At least you've got your mind off Chuck."

"I've been through breakups before, Elle Woods. Chuck is the last thing on my mind, but thanks for worrying. Honestly... He's not really my type."

Look, let me guess, you want to stay friends?

Tellin' people that's how we been?

Tellin' everybody, yeah, that we was barely speakin'

Ah, that's kinda funny, why'd you call me every day then?

It's immaturity, you goin' off the deep end

"I'm glad you and Chuck are still friends."

"Friends?" (Y/N) repeated Ginger's words. "We don't talk. At all." That was kind of a lie. Chuck called and texted everyday but (Y/N) barely replied. (Y/N) shook his head, sighing. He spotted the jock and sent him a text, straying away from his friends. Chuck jogged over, flashing his charming smile.

"What's up?"

"First of all, can you not blow up my phone? Second of all, quit lying. We don't talk and we aren't friends." Chuck frowned at his words.

"What are we?"

"Acquaintances? Exes? Strangers? Take your pick but this isn't friendship." (Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

You just want somebody you can chill and get some drinks with, cool

Then don't hit me on the weekend

Tellin' me you missed the way we talked and how I listen, yeah

Why you playin' with my mind, huh?

Why you playin' with my time, huh?

"Listen, (N/N), why don't we talk about this at Pop's? Like we used to. I wanna be friends with you again."

"No, Chuck. I'm tired of.. Of you." (Y/N) confessed. "You got brownie points from everyone, congrats, but can you leave me alone now? I know I sound like a dick but you're wasting my time. Either be my ex or be a stranger, I don't care which. Go find Josie or Moose to keep you company."

"No, baby-" (Y/N) rolled his eyes again at the pet name. "We aren't together anymore, you can stop pretending to like me, Chuck."

Told me, "We should let it go and put it all behind us"

That's what I did, now you askin' me what I done, I was

Waitin' for this day, I saw it comin'

I think you just like attention, tryna tell me all your problems

I got issues of my own, I ain't got time for all this drama

You told me that you don't really wanna talk—then why you callin', huh?

"Let's put the past behind us-"

"I did but it seems like you can't." (Y/N) took out his cigarette pack, glancing at a disapproving Chuck.

"I'm just trying to fit in again, (N/N). I haven't figured out what I want in school yet." Chuck watched as (Y/N) raised the rolled up blunt to his lips.

"You have problems, I have problems, we should just fix them on our own with different people, Chuck." (Y/N) said, glad school had been long over or else he would've definitely been caught and suspended.

"Fine, if you don't wanna talk, we won't talk."

"Good, don't call or text me about anything other than school, aight?" (Y/N) spun around on his heel and went back to Ginger and Tina.

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

(Y/N) grinned, shaking the spray can as he stared up at his finished masterpiece. He was glad Keller let him do art around the town as long as it wasn't offensive. (Y/N) took out a cigarette and lighter, trying to light it but he had run out of fuel. He huffed and pouted until a muscular arm moved around him and lit the cigarette.

"Thanks." He mumbled, looking at the curly haired male.

"You did that?" He asked, taking a seat beside the older teen. (Y/N) nodded.

"It's dope, shit looks professional." (Y/N) chuckled, eyeing the man.

"Yeah, I got inspired by an 'ex', I guess." He looked back at the art on the wall.

"You go to that high school nearby, right?" The man questioned, motioning to the Riverdale sticker on his bag. (Y/N) nodded. The man hummed.

"I suppose that shithole has some talented kids, the rest are nosy fuckers."

"You've hit the nail on the head, my friend." (Y/N) grinned, tossing the spray can off to the side.

How you gonna lie, how you gonna lie like that?

Baby, how you gonna lie, how you gonna lie like that?

How you gonna lie, baby, how you gonna lie like that?

No, no, how you gonna lie like that?

"Back onto this 'ex' of yours, what's the story?"

"He got into a bit of trouble with the school, everyone hated him for a while so he got with me to earn brownie points and then broke up with me. He's an annoying little shit though." (Y/N) told him, shrugging lightly.

"Those types are the worst. Bring out the worst in you." The man said, leaning against the wall. (Y/N) looked at him, admiring his handsome features.

"You don't look like someone from the Northside. So, what brings you here?"

"Wanted to wreck havoc but got caught up with the artistic babe." He replied smoothly. (Y/N) smiled, shaking his head.

"You've got fuckboy written all over you." (Y/N) cooed, ignoring the buzzing of his phone. "Plus, I don't even know your name, sir."

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

(Baby, how you gonna lie like that? No, no)

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

(Tell me how you 'bout to lie like that)

You say all I ever do is just control your life

(No, no, no)

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

(Oh, yeah)

"Malachai, and yours?"

"(Y/N)." (Y/N) replied, taking out his phone and seeing the texts from chuck. He rolled his eyes, muting his contact before putting his phone away.

"Will I see you again, Malachai?" (Y/N) asked with a grin. Malachai nodded, eyes looking him over again.

"Definitely." He purred in return, sending him a wink before walking to his car.

Tell me how you 'bout to lie like that

Tell me how you 'bout to lie like—

Yeah, yeah, hey

[angelsfalling16]

Hiii I love your writing and I'm in LOVE with 5 Times it Doesn't Mean Anything and 1 Time it Does. Thank you for blessing us with that masterpiece. Do you think you could do 9 and 22 for the cliché tropes and prompts? Thank you in advance :)

Hello! I am so glad you like that fic, and I hope you like this one!! :) So, I thought that it might be fun to combine these prompts into one fic, so I hope that’s okay, Nonnie. Also, it’s a little over 2k (might’ve gotten a little carried away...) so I’m putting it under a cut.

9. There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

22. You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute.

***

No one ever comes to Simon's door except for his friends, so when he opens it to find a complete stranger, it comes as a bit of shock.

The man is standing there with his arms behind his back in dress pants and a button up shirt. It looks like what might be considered business casual, but there doesn't seem to be anything casual about the guy.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Is that how you always answer the door?” the guy asks, quirking a perfectly groomed brow.

“No, but you shouldn’t even be able to get in through the gates. So, again, I ask, who the hell are you?”

“Your bodyguard.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“My employer thinks otherwise.”

“If my father thinks I need protection, why wouldn’t he tell me? How do I know that you’re not just some random guy pretending to be a bodyguard so that you can get close enough to kill me?"

"I am certain that there are much easier ways to kill you. Besides—.”

“Forget it,” Simon interrupts him, not really interested in what he has to say. "Come inside."

He turns and leads Baz through the entryway and into the kitchen where he was just about to eat the scones he baked. Simon doesn’t look at him as he spreads a mound of butter on one, closing his eyes as he takes the first bite.

He finishes that one off and eats two more before he says anything more.

“What is your name?”

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch at your service.”

Simon wrinkles his nose.

“What kind of a name is that? Sounds made up."

“It's my name, and I have the birth certificate to prove. If it makes you more comfortable, you may call me Baz if you would like.”

“Not necessary. I am going to call my father and have him ask you to leave. That would make me more comfortable."

“He thought you might say something like that, so he asked me to give you this letter," he says, pulling it from his back pocket.

“Of course, he did because he can’t be bothered to call his own son.”

Simon takes the letter but doesn't read it. It won't change anything, so it looks like he is stuck with this complete stranger following him around.

He spends an hour wandering around his house, straightening things and killing time. 

“Are you planning on putting a shirt on any time soon?” Baz asks at one point, and Simon turns to him, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“I’m good. I run hot, so this is more comfortable.”

Baz frowns, but there's something underneath it. Discomfort but also something else that Simon can't quite figure out.

“Why? Do you not like what you see?”

“That is not my job. I am only here to keep you safe.”

“Ugh. You are no fun.”

“That is not my job either.”

Simon groans. “Whatever. I’m going out to meet up with a friend soon. You can stay here. Make yourself at home. I will be sure to tell my father that you were a most unpleasant bodyguard but did your job.”

“I cannot leave your side.”

“My father will never know.”

“I would. And what if something were to happen to you?”

“Nothing has happened to me yet. My father is just being paranoid because he likes to have dealings with bad people.”

“Still, I must stay with you wherever you go.” 

Simon sighs. Are all bodyguards like this? Annoying and insistent on saving people’s lives? Why would anyone want to go into business to do something like that?

“Fine, you can come. But you have to give me space. I don’t need my friends thinking that I have a babysitter.”

***

Simon spends the day trying to ditch him, but Baz is very good at what he does. At least he's nice to look at.

Simon meets up with Agatha late in the afternoon in front of a little sandwich shop that they like to frequent. Her blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, a few strands hanging loose to frame her face alongside her bangs, and she’s got pink streaks in it today.

She’s got on her combat boots, bringing her almost eyelevel with Simon. It’s paired with black skinny jeans and a white top.

The only jewelry she has adorned herself with today is a bracelet that Simon made her with purple, white, grey, and black thread back in junior high when everyone was learning how to make friendship bracelets. The thread has begun to fray, and she could afford to buy something better, but she still insists on wearing it every day.

They hug as soon as she sees Simon, and she whispers in his ear, “Who’s your stalker?”

“Just some loser I can’t seem to shake. My father sent him.”

“Gross,” she says with a grimace, pulling back but keeping her hands on Simon’s arms. “Want me to help you get away from him?”

“I already tried. It didn’t work.”

“I have a few tricks we could try. Her look is mischievous, and this is exactly why they have been friends since childhood.

Simon considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s not worth it. He’s already practically holding my hand like I'm a child."

“At least he’s good looking.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, nudging her with his elbow. “But yeah, you’re right. If he wasn’t working for my father, I might try to seduce him.”

“Okay, that’s disgusting. I’m done with this conversation. Let’s go get lunch.”

“Great idea. I’m starved.”

***

Fortunately, Baz grabs his own table when they get lunch, and now that Simon is with a friend, he gives him a bit more space, but not enough that it isn’t obvious that he’s following them. He follows them the rest of the day, and they part ways when Agatha says she has plans to meet a friend for dinner.

Simon would usually go home at this point, but just to irritate Baz, he decides to spend the night in a club dancing with strangers and pretending like Baz’s eyes on him for an entirely different reason.

When he’s finally grown bored and a little too tipsy, he stumbles his way over to where Baz has been leering at him.

“You should stop staring at me or people might get the wrong idea, you know.”

“And what idea might that be? 

“That you’re interested in me.”

“Maybe that’s my cover." He smirks, and Simon is even more aware of just how attractive he is. "Are you ready to go?”

“Yep. I’m heading straight there, so you can go home now.”

“I won’t be going home. My job is to stick with you day and night.”

“So, you’re moving in with me. Cool. You could have at least bought me dinner first.”

“I will buy you dinner on the way home if we can leave now.”

“Sure. But we aren’t going home.”

“What else could possibly be open this late?”

“A hotel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Your partner hasn’t got anything to be worried about.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Good to know, Simon thinks. “You still haven’t told me why we’re going to a hotel.”

“I’m too drunk to get home, and there’s a nice hotel down the street.”

“I could drive you home.”

“No, thank you. I have to be somewhere early tomorrow morning anyway, so this will be easier.” 

Baz sighs. He’s been doing that a lot since meeting Simon this morning.

“Alright, but I’m still driving.”

***

The hotel has only one vacancy, and of course, that room only has one bed. It doesn’t bother Simon too much, but Baz is obviously discomfited by it.

“We can share the bed,” Simon suggests. "It’s plenty big.”

“I’ll just stand guard. I’m not tired.”

“You’ve been chasing me around all day. Of course, you're tired. You need some sleep if you plan to do it all over again tomorrow. Now, shut up and get over here.”

“Your father will fire me if he sees us like that.”

“My father never comes around to check on me. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“What will your girlfriend think?”

“What girlfriend?”

“The blond you spent half the day with.”

Does Simon detect a hint of jealousy? Surely not.

“She is just a friend, and I doubt she would mind. Now, get over here.”

He purses his lips then sighs. “Fine. Let me go change.”

***

Simon sniggers when he sees Baz's pajamas. They’re dark green and silk, the most proper pajamas he’s ever seen. He didn’t think people actually wore those kinds of things.

Baz glares at him, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“Nice pajamas,” Simon finally manages to say through a laugh.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Baz asks, taking in Simon’s boxers and t-shirt.

Simon shrugs. “You didn't seem to like it when I wasn't wearing a shirt, and we don’t all keep a change of clothes in our car.”

Baz doesn’t make any more comments after that, silently climbing into the bed and scooting as close to the edge as possible. Simon does the same, and it isn’t long before he falls asleep.

***

When Simon’s alarm goes off in the morning, he groans and pulls the blanket up over his head. He doesn’t want to get up. His head hurts, and the sun is far too bright. Maybe he’ll stay in bed all day.

He’s about to reach over and turn off the alarm when something shifts against him, or rather around him.

He pries his eyes open and comes face-to-face with Baz’s silver-grey eyes. It takes him a moment to realize that he and Baz are wrapped up together, their arms holding each other and their legs entangled.

It takes another moment for Baz to jerk away, nearly falling out of the bed in his attempt to get away.

Baz clears his throat, his cheeks heating up as he stares down at the bed. "My apologies, sir."

"Sir?" Simon asks, a little taken aback by the formality.

"This was highly unprofessional of me. I promise it will not happen again."

"Oh, shut it would you?" Simon says, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't care how professional you act. You're hot and in bed with me and all I could think about last night was kissing you. I'm not in the least bit bothered by a bit of cuddling."

"I see. So, is this what you do with all your bodyguards?"

"No, you're my first."

Baz's eyes widen just a fraction and Simon feels his face warm. That isn't quite what he meant.

"Bodyguard I mean. You're my first bodyguard."

"Great and I'm doing a rather shit job of it, aren’t I?"

"I wouldn't say that. My body feels pretty safe right now, but you know what would make it feel even better?"

"What?"

"You," Simon whispers then he grabs a fistful of Baz's silky pajama shit and yanks him back down on the bed.

Baz grunts as he half lands on top of Simon and he pushes himself up on an elbow so that his face is hovering above Simon's.

"Can I kiss you?" It surprises them both when Baz is the one who asks this.

"Yes," Simon breathes.

Baz leans down and captures Simon’s lips in a desperate kiss that has Simon groaning involuntarily. Simon pulls on Baz and shifts his legs so that Baz is now fully lying on top of him his legs resting between Simon's.

Simon starts rubbing Baz’s stomach, and his fingers slip between the buttons of Baz’s shirt sliding over his soft skin.

“Wait,” Bad says, jerking away from him. “I thought you had somewhere to be this morning.”

“I can cancel.”

“I will need to speak to your father, tell him that I can’t keep being your bodyguard.”

"Could we please not talk about my father when we're in bed together? Or ever?"

"But he has to know that I can't work for him. It would be a conflict of interest."

Simon groans. "Seriously. You're ruining this moment."

"Fine. We'll talk about it later."

"We'll see about that," Simon says with a grin. Then he kisses Baz again before he can say anything else.

[starlit-serenade]

Dance With Me | Chapter 1

💙 Summary: After visiting the members of ONEUS during their dance practice, you find yourself inspired to learn to dance. You ask your friend Kim Geonhak to teach you.

💙 Chapter 1: 2,386 words

💙 Pairing: Reader x Kim Geonhak (Leedo) / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader; Kim Geonhak (Leedo); Son Dongju (Xion); Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong); Lee Keonhee (Keonhee); Lee Seoho (Seoho); Kim Youngjo (Ravn);

💙 Rated: T for some minor swearing / Warnings: Minor Swearing, Jealousy (Later in the fic) / Genre: Fluff, Minor Angst (Later in the fic), Friends-To-Lovers, Happy Ending;

《 Series Masterlist // ONEUS Masterlist // Boy Group Masterlist 》

You knock on the door of the dance studio, carrying a bag of take-out in one hand and your phone in the hand that knocked on the door. You had earlier texted the group chat to alert the boys that you were on your way with lunch, and Youngjo responded with an "okay" and series of emojis.

The door opens, and you are met with Youngjo, smiling brightly at you with his phone in hand. You can see the other five members behind him, all staring in your direction while sitting on the floor. 

"Hey Y/N!" Dongju calls out before Youngjo can say anything, waving at you.

Dongju is the closest to your age in the group, the member you had befriended five years ago, before ONEUS's debut. He had been the one to introduce you to the rest of the group.

"Hey Dongju," you say, waving back. "Hey everyone!" Youngjo opens the door to let you enter the practice room. Keonhee grabs the plastic bag of takeout from your hand, sets it down on the floor, and starts taking the food out, while Geonhak, who was sitting closest to the door, quickly stands up and helps you get your coat off and folds it to set it aside for you.

"Thank you," you say to Geonhak. "It's raining outside."

"I can tell," Geonhak says, laughing. "Your hair is dripping. I should come with you next time to help you bring us food."

"What song were you guys practicing?" you ask, sitting down between Dongju and Geonhak. Geonhak sits down in his spot, helping Keonhee set all the food up.

"We were practicing A Song Written Easily," Seoho says. You sigh, smiling softly, thinking of the pretty song, which came out about three months ago. You've always admired the music, the raps, the vocals, the choreography of the song. It might not be your favorite song, but it is still a masterpiece.

"Oh, I've always wanted to learn that choreography," you say dreamily. "It's always so pretty to watch and rewatch your performances."

"You watch our performances?" Geonhak asks, turning to face you with an eyebrow raised, and you nod.

"Of course. I watch them almost every day, when I have time. I'm your friend, I want to support my friends," you say.

"Y/Nie, that's so sweet," Youngjo says.

"The choreographies are so pretty, I've always wanted to learn them," you continue.

"We could teach you sometime!" Hwanwoong says cheerfully. "Which choreographies do you want to know most, Y/Nie?"

"Oh gosh, I don't know. A Song Written Easily or Valkyrie, probably," you say. If you were to be honest, you would have listed every single one of their songs with choreographies, but that would be unrealistic.

"We still have practice for another two hours after our lunch break, you can watch us practice if you want," Geonhak suggests.

You nod, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

After the boys have finished eating the food you brought them--Dongju gave you a bit of his food--you hang out with them for half an hour.

"What choreographies do you know already, Y/N?" Seoho asks.

"Mostly girl group choreos," you say shrugging. "Especially because TWICE's and SNSD's songs are so catchy. I know a few Pentagon and BTS choreos."

"Oh? Do you know the choreo of Pentagon's Shine?" Seoho asks, and you nod. "Show us."

While he plays Shine from the speaker, the two of you do the choreography together while the others watch, laughing, clapping and singing along. After you've finished, you're sweating and panting. Seoho  as a K-Pop idol, is used to this workout. You, on the other hand, are not a K-Pop idol. You can barely call yourself athletic. Of course you're out of breath from doing the shoot dance.

"Good job," Seoho says, patting your back as you sit back down next to him. "You would make a good trainee."

Geonhak nudges you, and offers me an unopened plastic water bottle.

"Thank you," I say, taking it and downing the water.

"Y/N, what other choreos do you know?" Hwanwoong asks. An idea pops into your head, and you stand up on achy, tired legs.

"Just one. Let me get my phone out," you say, opening your phone and opening YouTube. You start typing in the search bar, 'Leedo 5G'.

The music starts playing, and the members except Geonhak and Youngjo start laughing, before getting to their feet and joining you in the dance. Hwanwoong and Seoho imitate the deep voice while Dongju, Keonhee and you just imitate the dance. Geonhak is pretending to cover his eyes as he laughs in embarrassment. Youngjo is laughing while watching, mouthing along with the song.

After the song ends, you all sit back down in your spots next to Geonhak, laughing off your joy and amusement.

"I should have quit all those years ago," Geonhak murmurs, but he can't hide his smile from you. "I hate you all."

The boys resume their practice of A Song Written Easily. They move in sync, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they dance. You're seated with your back against the wall, your computer on your lap for work.

After about half an hour, you set your computer aside and watch the boys practice. They move so beautifully, you can tell it takes years of hard work and passion.

You've sat in on many of their practices within the past few years, but they still never fail to make you smile. It's like watching a painter work on their work in progress. You know it's going to be a masterpiece in the end, but there's a strange joy or honor in watching them create and perfect the piece. You see the piece when it's nothing, when it's a masterpiece, and everything in between.

After they've finished practicing, they all wander around the room, wiping sweat off of their foreheads and grabbing at their water bottles, talking about plans for after practice. Youngjo, Keonhee and Seoho are talking on the other side of the room, while Dongju and Hwanwoong are messing around in the corner. Geonhak, sweating, walks toward you. You grab Geonhak's bottle, the closest to you against the wall, and hand it to him as he approaches.

"Ah, thank you," he says, smiling gently as he sits down next to you. You admire his figure. He’s so large. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, and his skin glistens with sweat. He dabs away at his neck and cheeks with a towel. "What?" he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"Huh?"

"You're staring," Geonhak murmurs, just barely loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for the others to hear while milling about the practice room. You blink before looking away, but you can hear him laughing gently.

"Hey Geonhak," Youngjo calls out, drawing Geonhak's attention away from you before you can even think of a response. "The rest of us have to quickly help Seoho re-record for a song, come with us."

"Okay. We'll be back soon, Y/N," Geonhak says, waving goodbye. You wave back, smiling as he closes the door behind him.

You stay in the room alone, glancing at yourself anxiously in the large mirror, which stretches from floor to ceiling, end to end of the wall and curves somewhat to the adjacent walls. It probably helps the members watch their stance from more than one angle when they practice. 

After a moment of considering what you can do to fill the silence, you push yourself to your feet and stand in the center of the room, in front of the mirror. You think back to the start of the A Song Written Easily choreography, and absentmindedly stand sideways in Geonhak's position.

You sigh, walk over to your computer and place it in front of the room, so that it’s set up against the mirror with the Weekly Idol Leedo clip of A Song Written Easily playing on full screen as you clumsily attempt to copy Geonhak's movements. You find it's not as easy as he always makes it seem, his movements confident and intentional and elegant, while your movements are stiff, clumsy and awkward, and you almost fall over several times.

How does he keep his balance? you wonder, frustrated as you restart the song for the fourth time, despite having only gotten twenty seconds into the song.

This time, you clumsily make it all the way up to the start of Geonhak's rap verse, about thirty seconds into the song. At the sound of his voice, you freeze up, watching in awe. His moves aren't elegant and flowy during his rap, but they're intentional and beautiful nonetheless. His body control is impressive.

Because he's a dancer.

"Wow . . ." you murmur. You wait until after his verse has ended to restart the song and try again.

You follow his moves as closely as you can, but you end up stumbling getting lost.

"Ah, damn it . . ."

"You're a bit ahead of the beat."

Startled, you whip around at the sound of a familiar deep voice, and Geonhak is standing at the back of the room. He’s leaning against the wall, a pleasant smile on his face as he watches you.

"I, uh, what? I mean--I'm sorry?" Your words come out in a jumbled mess as you bend down to pause the music.

"During Dongju's part, you lose your balance and move a bit too fast. You get lost right before Keonhee's part. I recommend you slow the song down to half speed when you practice at home."

You stare at him blankly.

"You're doing my part," he remarks.

"Yeah," you reply dumbly, ducking your head. Hopefully he hasn't noticed you blushing and smiling like an idiot. You're not used to people watching you do things, and you're not much of a dancer. You wonder how long he's been watching you. "Aren't you supposed to be with everyone helping Dongju record?"

Geonhak shrugs. "Thought you might be lonely. So I thought I'd check on you."

"Oh."

"Do you want help with the choreo?"

You shake your head. "That’s okay. You must be tired from practice. Maybe some other time, Geonhak."

"I'm not that tired. Try it again, I can direct you." He moves to sit in front of you, back against the mirror with your computer on his lap so you can see the screen. He starts the song over again.

You try the dance again, feeling how his eyes follow you as you move as he plays the song for you. He calls out to you as you dance, firmly but gently so as not to distract you too much. "You're rushing, slow down a bit. Step. Step. Step. There you go."

His deep voice is calming, you think. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. But right now, it is. You follow his instructions, going through the first half of the first verse twice. You stop just as his rap begins, and he pauses the music, standing up from where he sits.

"Good job, you're improving. You need to relax your muscles. And bend your knees a bit more at the beginning, like this." Geonhak demonstrates, humming the song as he moves. You watch him dance, mesmerized, not paying as much attention to the moves as you should be.

"Y/N, are you even paying attention?"

You blink, coming back to your senses. "Oh, yes. Your dancing is amazing," you say, and Geonhak smiles shyly, glancing around the room. He is easily made shy.

"Ah, thank you."

"Geonhak?"

He looks back at you, face serious once more, but he's still smiling a bit. "Yes?"

"Could you . . . could you please teach me how to dance?" you ask. "I've wanted to dance so much, but it's so hard to in my free time, plus I'm not good at teaching myself this stuff. I know you're a busy man, so you can say no, but would mean a lot if you could teach me."

Geonhak blinks at you, brow furrowed. Not in anger but in confusion. At the same time, his eyes are wide and his cheeks are a bit pink. "Me? Y/N, I'm not the best dancer on the team. I'm a dancer but . . . maybe Hwanwoong or Seoho would be better teachers?"

You shake your head stubbornly. "Other than Dongju, you're the member I'm the closest to. I'm much more close to you than I am to Hwanwoong and Seoho. I'm kind of too nervous to ask them. Besides, when you were guiding me earlier, it really helped me."

After a moment, he smiles. "Alright, I'll teach you to dance."

You look up happily. "Really?"

Geonhak laughs, nodding. "Yes, I'll teach you to dance. But not today, I'm too tired. Here's a plan. What if I teach you twice a week, after ONEUS practices. You can use this practice room whenever you need, though."

You nod. "Yes, absolutely."

"I'll also be giving you 'homework' too. You need to exercise and stretch, you need to practice on your own. Alright?"

"Alright."

The door bursts open, and in walk the rest of the members. Youngjo, Keonhee and Hwanwoong are discussing something about the recording, while Dongju and Seoho are play wrestling, Dongju trying hard to bite at Seoho's finger.

"Oh, there you two are," Youngjo says, smiling.

"How'd the recording go?" you ask.

"It went well. It's hard to get it just right, but I think we might have gotten it right this time. If not, it was definitely close."

"That’s good to hear."

Youngjo glances from you to Geonhak, then back at you. "What were you two up to?"

"Geonhak was helping me try the A Song Written Easily choreography," you say. Youngjo opens his mouth to speak when a yell pierces through the air, echoing off of the walls, startling you, Youngjo and Geonhak. You turn to find that Dongju has finally managed to bite Seoho's finger, and you laugh.

How lucky you feel, that you befriended Son Dongju and Dongmyeong all those years ago. Otherwise you wouldn't be friends with all of the people in this room with you. And your joy isn't because you're friends with all these famous idols. No, it's because you're friends with all these silly goofballs.

[ratmor]

Fairytale Lies Along (Russian Fairytales and OUaT)

4. ANOTHER TACTICS

The raspberry cake had an extremely positive impact on the mood of a woman who initially was absolutely not happy with us. Well, I’d have said, Emma and I never pushed it and demonstrated her our lack of claims. I don’t mean we wouldn’t try it in the future if anything dangerous for the kid would come out, but we had no moral high ground to do that right now. The adoptive mother of our biological son never asked the question about why Emma abandoned the child in front of said child, but that didn’t mean she never wanted to.

In view of the late hour the boy went to bed almost immediately following the second slice of that marvellous cake with the middle layer of raspberry and the top layer of buttercream with crumbled almonds. I had no idea what gods managed to invent that recipe, but that cake was a little masterpiece. Somehow Emma is capable of networking, if she is willing to. That was her ex’s Cake Shop and they broke up without any drama, still seemed to be friends and congratulated each other with all holidays they could remember, except St Valentines.

Something subtly changed in Regina Mills as soon as Henry disappeared on the second floor. He was sure that everything would be quite calm between his adoptive and biological mothers. Personally, I thought that any mother who dared to abandon the child has no right to interfere further. Just once I hinted to Emma about my real opinion, that was right after she had already repented of her deed. Unfortunately, I cannot remember either being in prison with Emma or giving birth, or how she decided to abandon the kid. Well, I can’t say I didn’t warn her before I finally managed to leave her… The moment was awful, as I understand it now. But… Well, I warned my darling idiot a hundred times about the fact that my radar goes off, no, not just goes off, it fucking yelled like cat whose balls got pulled by someone! And that cat-radar-thing was always on when her new acquaintance, and then the guy she slept with was nearby.

I already didn’t give a shit how exactly she was ruining her life, because those days I thought that the faster her body would die, the sooner I could leave to capture some real hero. Actually, I would not be very comfortable being in her body as a full owner, with all that complications and even without fully awakened magic. Better let her die, I thought, poor fellow, because there are people who are rubbish and many more are just sluggish. Well, magic can be awakened - such a surprise really! - in the magical places of power and with the help of a trusted person. And the last one was the greatest problem in that realm. There’s one more option. There are always more options than one, but it hardly helps sometimes. The bearer of magic should be engaged in deliberate suicide attempts with the participation of complex magical enemies, which is not entirely possible here either - the world is ordinary, it seems, not magical, like, at all! And I must admit, I expressed everything I thought about Swan’s stupid teen acts almost as soon as I returned to Emma after our short separation. Not even as a consequence of said separation, but during which she managed, first, to get into an FBI investigation, secondly, get pregnant.

Anyone might ignorantly ask, how that was even possible, if Emma dates women? And, well, it’s not even a question, because she’s not exactly into girls. To be honest, Emma was not heterosexual even in her snotty youth, nor was she a lesbian, no matter how my outlook influenced her emerging character. She was very rarely interested in the sexuality and even the appearance of her intended partner, if we are talking about stable canons grafted by society. It was the pansexuality in such a manifestation that was not very good for Emma herself. That was because Emma had lots of complexes, with which I didn’t seem necessary to fight for the most part, and that shit set the bar low enough for her partners and, accordingly, downgraded Emma herself. It is logical that for me it was oh how profitable, that lack of self-esteem, but sometimes I wanted to bring up a real hero from the canon of a fairy-tale genre, like most princes from classic fairy tales were. But, I'm afraid, the reality wasn’t quite disposed to ensure that I educated Emma for real. And I never raised anyone in any of my lives, I usually had to wait until some major heroism in adulthood, staying somewhere on the sidelines, just looking at the life of the hero and arising in time, but Emma was the case that was even more interesting, than when I ended up in Naruto.

There was just a simple demon there, in the only reality in which I captured the body of the child, and that demon who was planted inside the poor child had nearly crushed my very essence with all his might. By the way, it was then that I made it a rule not to touch children and their formation as heroes, because you never know what might occur. At the same time, my, in some way, rapprochement with the ward of mine was due to the fact that my heart wasn’t hardened enough, and I never saw anything special in it - to reassure the little girl, who was paying me back with crumbs of the magic, which she periodically threw out. And that gave me the opportunity to gain mobility and dump that relationship to hell. I was hoping to wait until the child would get tired of playing oh so independent lady and fulfills certain gestures conceived by fate, as I hoped would be better than just a mere non-magical world with lack of high-tech as well. Of course, it never reached extremes, but to have something intimate with that asshole… The one I would approve only in a hospital bed, and that setting would’ve happened by combining my fist with his jaw. I told her to punch his pervert balls right after the very first meeting with him. Oh yes, it was the highest degree of the very self-deprecation inherent in Emma in her early years.

Yes, and do something in defiance - we obviously can do it, we definitely know how, so we practice it, hell yes, Emma Swan. Although, as I’ve already said, everything that my ward creates before his or her heroism is, more often than not, what brings him or her to this heroism. Information, so to speak, is time-tested and the number of repetitions is remarkable. So, the face of Regina Mills subtly changed as soon as Henry went out of sight and hearing. She rose from the table and motioned for Emma to follow her.

“Cider,” the woman lightly poured alcohol into glass cups, but I whispered to Emma that we need to defuse the situation somehow. - “You are welcome.”

“Do you want me to stay overnight?” - Emma grinned, sipping a drink.

“What do you mean?” - Regina looked at my ward with quite perceptible hostility. - “I don’t think that you will spend the night in this house.”

“Whatever.” Emma almost blew out the entire glass, oh so kindly filled by the foster mother of her long-lost son, I barely felt the taste, because I was absorbed in analyzing the woman’s reaction to Emma’s words. - “I just drank alcohol, and if you are a hospitable hostess, you are unlikely to expel a person into the night, and expect that person to drive along some dark slippery road after the rain in state Maine…”

“There is a hotel in the town,” Regina shrugged, barely holding her palms - they seemed to tremble, I think, in order not to throw all her cider out of her glass into Emma’s face. - The hotel is pretty close. And the rain has never melted people in that region of the US. My hospitality has it’s limits, so…”

The last phrase sounded so threatening that Emma flinched. She even took a half step back, but there was something for her to find out from Regina. Therefore, my ward threw away the vague sensations whispering about the imminent danger to both of us, and changed the subject, making an offer that was hard to refuse.

“Madam Mayor, may we finally finally discuss what happened to Henry?”

“Let's go to the office, Miss Swan, we'll talk there. But it seemed to me that you have no right to care…”

The woman inquisitively looked at Emma, after suddenly turning around. She was about to put my ward in a very much awkward position. Swan’s eyes found something to watch out for when such a gorgeous woman was climbing the stairs, and it was not so easy for Emma to pretend that she was looking a little higher than Regina’s loins, and not lower.

“No, of course not,” - Emma rejected any accusations, - “I just do not want that to happen again, only next time might be much worse. You know, I can imagine what’s happening in the mind of an adopted child. Unfortunately.”

“Have you been abandoned?”

“She’s not familiar with the word “tactfully”” - I stated, and Emma sighed agreeing that way with me and having no coherent thoughts on the matter.

“And I was not so lucky with my parents as Henry.” - In one breath said Emma and conciliatory shrugged before entering the office at Regina invitation gesture.

“What do you mean, Miss Swan?” - Regina said with obvious curiosity. And that was said exactly for the maintenance of the conversation, because she probably wasn’t interested in anything of the life of the person she merely despised, no matter how she tried to cover it with indifference. I felt it in my guts. - Have you been abandoned for several times instead of one?

“You …” - Emma sighed abruptly and stumbled. “You are amazingly ingenious, mayor.”

“Usually, if they took the child, they can give it away, ” - Regina shrugged her shoulders and opened the door. - “We went through the procedure of full adoption. And you did not want contact. And you have no right to demand it.”

“I demand nothing” - Emma walked into the room and sat down on the sofa near the coffee table. - It’s Henry who demands. I think that one of his whims can be fulfilled by you and me both. It’s easy to be disappointed in me in a couple of days, and I will hardly be here any longer. It’s quite a sober assessment of my qualities, you know. He has the right to believe that I just never needed him, and because of this I put him into adoption. Roughly speaking, this is exactly what happened.”

“Hmmm …” - the mayor put down her glass of cider and slightly tilted her head to the side. - “It will be easier for me if you tell me the details. And I myself will assess whether Henry should know that details. Do you agree?”

“If ...” Emma jarred, and she remembered my characterization of this controlling Madame, and then continued to speak out loud, “You really need this so much, huh? Control over his life...”

“You may not understand this, Miss Swan,” - I traced an undoubtful grin in her tone - “But this is a necessary maternal care, until he grew up. You do not have the slightest right to get into our lives. And if I'm still going to give you …”

“Uh, no,” - Emma twisted her index finger in a negative gesture, interrupting Regina. - ”It doesn't work that way. I told you that the boy himself wants it. And if he's half as good as I was at his age, and at the same time he’s so sure of himself that he found me contrary to common sense, then he’ll do what he wishes. I think with Henry, Madam Mills, just like with me, you’d need a slightly another tactic.

Mayor Mills was barely holding back the facepalm. Or maybe not a facepalm but a facefist to Emma’s face, really. My beloved ward sometimes seemed to possess a very thick bone in the area of the frontal lobe. Of course, we didn’t have the right to intervene in the life of the kid, but in order to understand at least something of what actually happened in the boy’s life, it is quite necessary not to engage in prohibited stalkering, but to agree on any terms of the real mother of our child so that the child did Not decide that the whole world is against him and did Not run off somewhere else, not to Emma, but to a much less secure environment. The result was supposed to be, like, the Mayor Mills need to have that feeling that all she had to do was just to suffer this crazy woman a little, I mean, Emma and I as I am crazy of her woman or something, and then after that little bit of suffering everything will be fine. And, of course, Swan masterfully turned the situation around, and if it were not her son’s fault, I would even be proud a bit.

“Listen, swan. Do you think that if a boy is exposed to something like domestic violence… would he have a hard time?!”

“She doesn’t look like a person who’s able to beat a beloved child for his own good,” - digging deep into the nature of relationships of this kind, but at the same time being extremely sarcastic, said Emma and added. - “I always hear when you call me a bird. There is a certain difference in the translation of your thoughts into mine, I hear something like Swan the Bird, I told you already. And warned that I did not like it!”

“Yes, of course,” - I grinned, - “there are no other problems except for discussing nicknames. In which, I note, again, my cygnet, I’m gonna call you as I wish because you can’t run away from yourself...”

“Shut up. I pray thee, I am both fuckin’ funny and want to swear. She will not understand if I don’t keep my face neutral!”

“Well, then keep it.” - I advised, and yet I fell silent, as she asked.

Next five minutes were like… In the real world, a whole epic of verbal struggle unfolded for the right to be in this glorious town. Emma was sure of what she was going to do and claimed that she was Not going to get involved either in the relationship between her son and his other mother, or in the senseless and merciless altercations about whether he could be in her company at all. She simply stopped the bickering - Regina Mills started it actually at the time of our inside dialogue, disguised as reverie in the reality. The mayor felt some detachment in Emma's behavior and decided to seize the moment.

“You have no right to tell me how to behave with my son! You recklessly abandoned Henry in the past, and whatever your reasons, you have no right ...”

“Wait, I just take care for the boy!” - Emma allowed herself to interrupt this stream of polite translation of obviously obscene thoughts and continued, under the scornful gaze of Regina Mills. - “Yes, it turned out that I had to give him up for adoption. There are times when you need to decide how it will be better. And after seeing where he is now, I still think that it was better “- aha, girl, you caress her ego, keep it up, the corners of Mills' lips just started in a smug grin, but I noticed. - “I’m not trying to re-establish a maternal connection with him, Madame Mills.” Understand me, I did not come here myself - this child brought me to your town. And I would very much like, first, to understand why that happened and, second, honestly, it frightened me that he went so easily and naturally to look for me in Boston! Damn Boston Regina! Boston is in another state since 1820 for fuck’ sake!”

“I think that I’m quite able to convince my son not to do this in the future ... And I’m quite able to make you go back to where you are from and tell my, ” - she emphasized again, as if we hadn’t said anything here before on this account, - “son, so that he no longer seeks to meet you, because you don’t want it. After all, you really do not need it, Miss Swan. What is this all for?”

“I think you don’t quite understand that he shouldn’t feel betrayed again. Yes, you are unlikely to meet me again if you do this, but ... ahem ... the child will not be easier, I assure you. Instead of driving him to therapy, you could’ve…”

“How do you know about therapy ?!” - the mayor snapped to a harsh tone, and Swan soothingly raised her palms in a sign of surrender to the mercy of the enemy.

“Oh darling, calm down! We just met Archie on the square in front of the clock tower - an evening walk with the dog, and it became clear that Henry went to the sessions for him just after a minute of observing their communication!”

“All right,” - the fists of this woman were already unclenched, but we were a little wary because of that breakdown - you never know, would these failures also extend to Henry too? - “What did you want to say?”

“You can just solve the problem, and not analyze and pick it out. This is exactly what any psychotherapist does when the patient has no desire to get rid of the problem. And Henry obviously has no such desire. He is a fighter. Does not run.”

“He does not run?” - Mayor slightly mockingly looked at Emma, waiting for clarification. - “What are you talking about?”

“Henry found me, didn’t run away from certain doubts. He may think that he may not be needed. Even if he is hiding behind these fairy tales, he simply had to change something in this life, to make sure that he was needed. That is what I understood from his speeches on the way to this town, and you know …”

“Stories?” - Mills alerted, interrupting my ward. - “What stories?”

“The boy is kinda addicted to classic fairy tales.” - Emms kinda told the truth but I really saw it differently, and well I really thought to stop her because that controlling mommy might dispose of such info the way it might hurt the boy. - “It’s no big deal” - she continued. - “Say thanks to the Universe, he’s not following the comics and the anime. You see, believing in Snow White singing songs with birds and bunnies is much better than believing in punishing villains in the name of the Moon or Dr. Strange and all that I am Batman business…”

“Hmmmm” - .discouraged by Emma’s joking attempt, the mayor decided to pay attention to the obviously familiar name - and I really don’t know if there are people who don’t know that name. - “Snow White? How is she ... I mean, how is Snow White from a fairy tale related to Henry's behavior?”

Emma let pass that slip and I didn’t really pay attention to that either, but Regina’s fists were clenched again for a few seconds.

"A strange reaction. Hates fairy tales much? Realist to the bone? Would break you on the wheel for your love of Harry Potter books? Any of these explanations is complete nonsense, but something alerted me all the same. And so far I do not know what, but I am going to find out … Although, probably it’s just boy’s fantasy. She might be just an ordinary woman, even though the mayor. And Henry can just invent a fairy-tale world for himself. After all, this world really differs little from previous worlds like it in magical content, as far as I could find out. There are places - and nothing more. But it wouldn’t hurt to go to the local cemetery and check the background; it can even turn on the absorption of magic, if there is something special we can find, Emma.”

“Hey, slow down, old man! We're not going to stay here for long, are we? Or do you think something has changed? Make sure that she is not crazy or psychic, and go home.”

“Yes, Emma, yes. I'm just thinking.”

“Make your thoughts a bit quieter!”

She didn’t hold a displeased grimace under the mask of calm that she had previously held, and therefore the mayor slightly changed her tone to a more oppressive one — it was a natural reaction.

“You know, Miss Swan, for some reason I don't care much for this other tactics of yours already. Because this is my son. And I know what he wants. Always knew.”

“And I know what teenagers are thinking about, ” - Emma objected tiredly and rolled an empty glass in her palm. The hint was understood and Regina, with a theatrical sigh, poured them one more portion of her cider. - This particular teenager is still worthy not to think that he is not needed. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“For us? “ - Regina was as surprised as I was, but I would wait for Emma to explain, but this woman was less patient. - “What does that mean “for you”? For me and Henry? Or just for me? I don't need anything from you!”

“For you,” - Emma looked into her eyes, and I suddenly realized that I feel heat, spreading in my chest and getting to my throat, and Emma cannot suppress a half smile when she realizes how her body reacted to this piercing and even evil look while she was saying such intimate words to the other mother of the child. - “Because you were the one who gave him a better life than I could ever give. I can't thank you in any other way. It seems to me that giving the boy what he wants is the least I can do to improve your relationship. He may not understand, but he began to look for me because you are probably a busy person, you probably forbid him something and definetely control him. And that's fine. And at this age, rebellion is also normal, it just forms character. And now it seems to him that I can be ... I don’t know, something better? He idealizes me, and that's okay too …”

“What are you, a shrink? - Mills wedged into the arising pause and grinned at her assumption. - “Not likely.”

“No,” - Emma did not restrain a giggle, and they again met their eyes, and I again suddenly was aware of how Emma feels, it was always when feelings just went beyond ordinary, but I felt, of course, less than Emma herself. - “I am a bounty hunter with childhood, directly related to the adoption system. Psychologists in my life were ... more than necessary.”

“And you grasped them from the inside, ” - Mills nodded, to which my ward only snorted and there was a pause until. - “Pardon me, but I’d like you to finally speak out, Miss Swan.”

“I just... It’s not normal that he will become distant from the closest person in his life. He might lose his shit when he grows up a bit and he’d always have the feeling he’s not needed. Since you are unlikely to be removed from the post of mayor, you will still solve the problems of the town, not the problems of the child. Simply feeding and clothing - never enough, you know. You can get into a bad company, accidentally commit a crime ... Or not by accident. But I believe in your prudence. And I still ask you not to put pressure on the kid, he is already having a hard time with this truth about me. Especially, when that truth he doesn’t even know, he does not know the whole story, Madam Mayor. And, I assure you, in this case, forcing him to stop communicating with me will be an achievement of only a short-term goal.”

“It won't remove the problem,” - Regina looked somewhere over the top of Emma's head, wondering - “Oh, well. You… I believe in your... Another tactics."