#instead it's time for my favorite game : ship names out of my arse

[rubia-peregrinart]

the scent of the moon, of flowers they no longer dream of ; it drives the old hunters into a frenzy.

inspired by Konstantin Korobov's Agnus.

[otterintheflightdeck]

For the writing asks: 1, 3, 17 and/or 20, please and thank you! :D

Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Ohhh boy. I have two:

- Mass Effect Andromeda fic: A Ryder/Avitus thing that started mostly as an excuse to try my hand at writing alien porn, but it turns out those characters are pretty much my usual kind of emotionally repressed sad sacks, so I couldn’t resist having them be very soft and fall in love with each other. 🙄 Progress has been nonexistent for a very long time -- I have 95% of a chapter written and I just need to finish up one sex scene. I picked it up again recently, so there’s hope! I like the actual conclusion I have planned for that story. I think it ties up a few loose ends from the game and explores the pathfinders’ relationships with their SAMs in an interesting way. Now I just need to actually get to that ending.

- Geralt/Emhyr “undercover as a couple” fic, which is mostly an excuse to write about those two pawing at each other. There’s so much humor to be found in the contrast between Emhyr being a Repressed Fancy Man and Geralt being, well, Geralt. I’m probably about 80% done with this one, but I’ve faltered a bit because I’ve reached the point where something actually needs to happen with the plot, heh. My favorite thing about it is this running joke where Emhyr goes on and on about very fancy things he likes, and Geralt reacts with equal parts horniness and exasperation. It’s better than it sounds.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

So... I WILL one day be arsed to write this, but. My one personal writing project is this mystery set in Ancient Egypt, kind of an alternative take on the post-Akhenaten era. I want to explore what could have happened if Tut had died earlier, during the coup that killed most of his family, and his sister had become Pharaoh instead of having to marry him. Except with a dash of Lovecraftian horror and a conspiracy to dethrone her. :>

The protags aren’t set in stone, but tentatively it’d be a medjay who’s part of the Pharaoh’s personal guard and a young scribe who gets yanked into the whole situation because he’s in the right place at the right time and can read/write. I’ve had two specific scenes in my head forever: One where the two protags are camping out in the desert (running away from bad guys) and discussing religion, with the medjay unexpectedly having a very pragmatic/cynical view of it because of what he’s heard at court and seen at Akhetaten, and the scribe being much more naive and a true believer, partly due to learning his profession at a temple. (Spoiler alert: they fall in love and are soft. Yes, shocking.)

The second scene features Ai, the guy who became vizir after Akhenaten was killed, taking Akhenaten’s daughter to her grandfather’s unfinished temple complex to the old gods and giving her the “let’s bring Egypt back to its former glory by bringing back the old gods” spiel (which is basically what happened IRL and why Tutankhaten changed his name to Tutankhamun - and considering how young he was at the time, I’m gonna say it probably wasn’t his idea or his choice). Aaanyway, this little girl is like “nah”, has Ai killed on the spot, and sails back to Thebes with his corpse hanging from the front of her ship as a warning to leave her the fuck alone and let her rule on her own. I just love the idea of a girl Pharaoh who’s outwardly badass but terrified inside and still full of affection for her family and the god she grew up worshipping, despite huge political pressure to pretend otherwise.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

This is such an interesting question. I think I am much, much less romantic than my writing makes me seem. The words that come up most often in the comments I get are, like, “soft” and “gentle”, but I’m a pretty acerbic, logically-minded person, and when I write about all of those men being Soft with each other, I’m not really sitting there wibbling and feeling those emotions, you know? Writing is a very calculated, detached endeavor for me. I like staring at a sentence and puzzling out exactly which words or phrasing will elicit exactly the reaction I’m looking for from my readers. So while bits and pieces of myself do make their way into my writing, I think I’m more detached from it than people probably imagine.

Writing about Ryder has been a challenge for me for that reason. He’s a blank-slate character that’s meant to be customized by players, but I don’t really have a strong attachment or feel any particular kind of way about him. I know a lot of people develop very specific headcanons about that type of game protagonist (Ryder, the Inquisitor, etc.), but I mostly just watch the cut scenes a lot, listen to the way the character speaks and try to tease out some kind of personality that makes sense out of it. I find that less interesting than taking a fully-developed, static character and trying to write them faithfully, so that’s why you won’t see a lot of Mass Effect/Dragon Age/Skyrim/Fallout/whatever fic from me regardless of how much I like playing those games. Though I will say that the Cyberpunk 2077 protagonist has piqued my interest, so I might give that a whirl eventually.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Ohhh, I’ve told you about this, but there’s this tiny thing in The Plight of the Elves: Iorveth finds an ancient elven book at some point, and the assumption is that it’s something important having to do with the restoration work he’s doing, but Geralt finds out it’s actually a recipe book. HOWEVER, it’s not exactly a recipe book, it’s a “how to run a household” book intended for newly-married women. Pretty much an ancient elven version of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management. 

I was going to explicitly mention this at some point, but in the end Geralt didn’t find out and it wasn’t important enough to work in. I just like the idea that Iorveth would be very keenly aware of the irony, would hate that he likes it, and would rather die 500 times over than breathe a single fucking word to Geralt about the actual nature of the book.

I had a blast rambling about all this, thank you for asking. <333

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

A Glance at the Sun

Mass Effect Andromeda Fic - Camille Ryder x LIam Kosta - Pre-relationship  Here is my take on the first Christmas in Andromeda for Camille. Hope you enjoy!

Morale among Initiative staff had been on an upward trend, and nothing could keep that going like a big holiday party. With that in mind Addison had suggested that the station celebrate the Earth holiday of Christmas. The timing was perfect. She hoped that a party would demonstrate the good that could come from supporting the Initiative. Tann however announced the celebration was “In honor of the Human Pathfinder and her recent accomplishments.”

She knew what being manipulated was like, and this was definitely it. Forcing her to be involved to help boost morale put more strain on her, and she was quite frankly tired of “Eight” yanking her around when she had important leads to follow. Camille wanted to call bullshit, and take her crew elsewhere, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The Salarian’s scheming aside, Ryder was astonished by the decor and lights squirreled away in personal -and even official - Nexus supplies. Overnight the station workers transformed the place to look like a proper winter wonderland. With her team, and so many others, excited with the prospect, she didn’t have it in her to deny them the chance to let loose.

Instead of having the mother of all tantrums, hiding in her room with corney holiday vids, she found herself watching the festivities from Addison’s office. With any luck people would forget she was around, and she could slink back to the Tempest. One hand gripping the glass barrier, she sipped whatever beverage Dutch was calling wine, and attempted to avoid eye contact with everyone. Her plan backfired quickly as a slightly tipsy -and very handsy- Keri T’Vessa found her. Her normally professional friend had obviously drank a little too much, and was a decidedly friendly drunk.

Ryder broke free, ushered her into Hakim’s waiting arms, and rushed to the Operation’s balcony. She was flustered and blushing profusely. She knew Keri would be mortified by the interaction once sober. Smoothing out her dress, she tucked her hair behind her ear and took the opportunity to survey the area. Gil had commandeered a table, and set up an impromptu game of poker. By the look on his face, she believed he was already making a killing. Vetra was not far away, talking shop like always. She smiled to herself, the idea of the Turian taking a night off was too amusing.

Drack held court, pretending to hate the attention he was getting. Nexus Security -especially the humans- pleading for war stories and tips from the grizzled war veteran. She attempted to look casual as she glanced his way. Pretending not to be looking for anyone specific, but knowing full well that if Liam was going to be anywhere, it was near Drack. Despite their squabbles, Drack won him over with his tough love attitude that didn’t fool anyone.

She would never admit to actively keeping tabs on Liam. She toyed with the idea of confessing how she felt about him, but shoved the idea back down time and time again. Getting caught up in his teasing and flirting happened far too often. When she stepped back, silent witness to his interactions with others, she doubted that he saw her as anything special. He had a natural ease and charm, a disarming smile, and no shortage of admirers.  Ryder really had no interest in seeing him be the life of the party, no interest in playing savior of the galaxy while nursing a broken heart. Especially since he had done nothing but show her kindness.  She would never accuse him of leading her on, however, she allowed herself to rush into infatuation faster than she previously assumed possible.

Glutton for punishment that she was, she scanned the room for him, heart plummeting when she didn’t find him. She was being an idiot. Why could she handle fighting Kett, playing diplomat, and general Pathfinding, but she couldn’t talk to a guy? A very goofy guy. Hell, she could do this. She tossed her drink back, downing her mostly full glass in one go, and stopped by the makeshift bar. Shared a pointed look with Anan T’Mari, and reached behind the counter, helping herself to a bottle of alcohol. If she was going to speak to the object of her affections, tell him she was falling madly in love with him, she was going to need more courage than she had at present. Of course, her entire plan hinged on Liam being somewhere she could find him. Should she inquire about him? That wouldn’t be unusual, right? Just looking in on her squadmates, nothing that anyone could take out of context…

Like a sign from the universe, Drack appeared next to her at the bar, ordered something strong, and grumbled. “What’s got you looking like a jumpy little pyjak?”

“I don’t… what do you mean? Nothing going on here, just relaxing, hanging out….chilling.” She cringed internally, did she actually say that aloud?

He laughed, a deep rumble, and gave her a pat on the back, “Is being uncomfortable part of this Christmas of yours? The boy looked a little green, too.”

“Liam’s not feeling well?” she asked, quickly feigning plucking at imaginary lint; fighting to appear nonchalant, but the urge to bolt making her skin itch.

“Mmmhmm,” Drack grunted his assent, pausing to drink, “he got this queasy look about him like a bronto kicked him in the quad.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Maybe someone should go check on him?”

“Probably.”

“So…I should go.”

“Not stopping you, kid.”

“Ok…right. I guess I’ll do that.” Camille grabbed for her pilfered alcohol, two glasses, and walked quickly to the tram, happily leaving the Christmas party behind.

**

Liam stalked to the Tempest. The artificial air of the Nexus only slightly cooler than the interior area hosting the party. The bodies packed together had done nothing to settle his nerves. He would be lying if he hadn’t thought of trying to get Camille alone at some point, hoping to use the crowd in his favor. Maybe casually drop how pretty she looked, even if that didn’t come close to describing what he felt. When she first stepped on stage with Tann, his heart had damn near stopped. She wore a cream tulle skirt that hit her knees, and a burgundy long sleeve sweater. The heels on their own were enough to send him into shock. Sure, Ryder always looked good. She was fighting fit, got dirty on missions, and filled out the armor. But seeing her in a dress, all shapely legs, and hair curling around her neck, had him reeling.

When did everything go all pear shaped? He was standing around, trying to be obvious, in case she was looking to talk to him. Or making sure he would see her first in case some other bugger tried to talk her up. He didn’t count on the damn Asari. Were they snogging and he hadn’t noticed? That didn’t seem right, and the gossip mongers would have caught wind if she was in a relationship. Even struggling to survive, people loved their tabloids.

Inside the ship, he wandered a bit, not quite sure what to do. The quiet of the ship never settled right with him. Thoughts came unbidden, and when he had time to think, he realized how much he missed. Everything he lost, and most of it gone for good. He rolled up his sleeves, and took a good look around. Camille had a fake Christmas tree set up in the hangar bay. She begged them all to help her decorate it. Some weird team building kick she was on. Ryder had been so cute and hopeful, he had volunteered to help, even though everyone else said no.

It took them three hours. The lights had been easy, some multi colored strand she got from the Nexus. The hard part had been coming up with ornaments. They ended up using strange bits of things - cereal box pieces tied with string for Vetra, playing cards for Gil, shiny rocks for Suvi. All random ridiculous items for each member of their mixed up crew. Liam lay on the floor and stuck his head under the tree. He stared up at the lights, squinting his eyes, watching them blur. He had done it often as a kid. Mum had shown him, told him it was her favorite part about the tree. Lights shimmering, ornaments reflecting light, quiet and calm.

“Is there room for one more under that tree?”

He closed his eyes, he knew her voice like the melody of his favorite song, and damn if it wasn’t the best thing he’d heard all night. “Course, always room, Pathfinder.” She had been walking towards him, but he could see her now bare feet pause mid stride. She always hesitated when he used her title. He felt like such an arse at times. Not knowing what made him use the title. She had a name, had asked him to use it once, but it always felt wrong. Like he wasn’t respecting her somehow.

She set her shoes down on the floor, and slid next to him. Shoulder to shoulder, hands nearly touching, hair spilling around her like a halo,  it was certainly the closest they had been out of armor. Liam swore he could feel the heat of her, the scent of roses and jasmine pulling him closer than appropriate. God he was in love, and she didn’t have a clue what effect she had on him. Probably thought he was a replacement brother since hers was out of commission. “This is a great spot for a party, sorry if I’m crashing it,” she finally said breaking the silence that had fallen around them.

“No worries, Camille. I just…that was a bit much for me. Room full of people, guess I’ve gotten used to being on the Tempest out in space.”

She sighed, and rubbed a hand up and down her arm, “Yeah, I get it. Things have been different. Not what I expected at any rate. It’s exhausting being Pathfinder. I wish…”

Liam turned his head to look at her, “Alright?”

She let out a half laugh, “It’s stupid isn’t it. Mom and Dad both gone, I don’t have a clue if Scott will ever wake up, and it’s the first Christmas in Andromeda. I’m not the only person that’s missing family, but I feel so alone.” Her voice cracked and Liam reached over for her hand, holding it tightly in his own. “Everyone wants something from me, and I can’t stop thinking about what I would be doing if we hadn’t left Earth.”

He knew, knew exactly how that felt, and damn if having first hand knowledge didn’t make his heart break for her even more. “Tell me,” he offered voice a little rough with emotion. “What else did you get up to? Bet you were a right piece. Your poor mum having to deal with two of you.”

She laughed, genuinely this time, amber eyes dancing with mischief mingled with unshed tears. “Oh we did all the normal things like rummaging through mom’s closet to find presents early. We still did that, even though we were grown. Sang along terribly while we watched Muppet Christmas Carol on repeat. Mom baked, amazing and delicious things, and always let us lick up the batter.” She went quiet for a moment, then continued in a whisper, “I’m such a jerk.”

“What’s that? I don’t follow.”

“Here I am whining like a brat, and you are probably suffering more.” She rolled out from under the tree, skirt puffing up hiding her legs, making her look like a mermaid in ocean foam. She tugged at his hand, pulling him along with her. She smiled, huge and unguarded, and if he had thought she was beautiful before, he had been very wrong. Seeing her true smile was like stealing a glance at the sun, bright and warm. She set him on fire from the inside out. Picking up a bottle of wine, and waving it in his face she supplied, “I swiped this from the bar, I’m going to drink it all, are you going to make me do it alone?”

“Hell no, Ryder. Pour away.” He watched her face as she concentrated on filling each glass to the brim, tossing him a grin when she achieved her goal. They clinked their glasses together, then Liam leaned over voice soft and said, “I have Muppet Christmas Carol on vid, and I’ll share my comfy couch.”

“This is why you are my favorite man in the universe,” she squealed kissing him soundly on the cheek. He sat dumbstruck as she stood and began to walk out, leaving her shoes behind. She looked over her shoulder, eyebrow raised and asked, “You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Ryder.” He scrambled up, trying not to spill his drink, hoping there might be something between them after all. He wouldn’t press it tonight, only a sod would take advantage of a woman’s loneliness, but he would tell her soon. He wasn’t fool enough to let her slip away.

[the-captains-ayebrows]

The Long Road Home - Canon Extension for 3x11 “Going Home”

My contribution to this year's CS Storybook! Check out the cover art by @elaine--captain--swan  who makes very beautiful things, and I highly recommend looking her up on Tumblr.

A series of missing and extended scenes that mostly take place during the Season 3 "Missing Year". It begins with Emma and Killian saying good-bye as Pan's curse rolls in. Lots of internal monologue.  Canon-compliant mentions of Emma and Walsh's relationship. This also contains a favorite headcanon of mine about where Blackbeard gets all those portal beans

Length ~4K words. Rated T for a few swear words. Also on [AO3]

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

-- Killian --

One word. One word is all she gave him, but it’s enough. It’ll have to be enough. Because there’s no time now. There’s never enough time. Her friends and family surround her. Then she’s disappearing into that bizarre yellow carriage of hers, and then even that disappears from his view in a wash of purple smoke. But he meant it, what he said to her. He hopes she meant it, too.

-- Emma --

One word. One word is all she could offer. Because there wasn’t enough time. There’s never enough time. And everyone else is around her, hugging her, and when the hell did she become a hugger? Anyway, it’s not the time for heart-to-heart confessions. She and Henry have to run. She always runs. At least she has her son with her this time. At least she’s not alone. But, Hook… he meant it, what he said to her. Her inner lie detector was absolutely silent. She meant it, too, her one word. And she hopes he can hear in that word what she didn’t say.  

Don’t forget me. Don’t give up. You have to remember for the both of us.

But most of all, Bring me home again.

-- Killian --

Will mermaids ever cease to be the bane of his existence? Bloody hell. The Crocodile and Pan are finally dead - rather considerate of the Croc to have taken himself and his accursed father out in one blow - and he would’ve thought all the tribulations he encountered from his centuries in Neverland were behind him. But no. Bloody mermaids. Can’t a man pay off a harlot in peace?

Still, if the lass is telling the truth about Blackbeard and his beloved Jolly Roger, all the sins of her piscine race shall be forgiven, at least as far as he’s concerned. From where he sits, or rather crouches, behind assorted cargo crates with this Ariel person and Smee, it would appear her information is accurate.

By the gods, it's been so long since he’s seen her, the first love of his life. Before Milah, before… that lass whose name he refuses to speak aloud, though it certainly echoes through his thoughts constantly. Before any fair maid had tempted him, there was her. The Jewel of the Realm. The Jolly Roger. His constant companion. His confidant. His home.

Even as he thinks the words, he feels a tug behind his breastbone, a fisherman’s hook (the irony is not lost on him) buried deep in his chest that pulls him in a very different direction from the gangplank before him. He ignores it. He forces the emptiness in his breast into the shape of a gracefully curving hull and towering sails, instead of the softer lines, painted in shades of red and gold and green, that have haunted him of late.

“You know you’re talking about a boat, right?”

Bloody mermaids. “You have your love and I have mine.”

And he does love her, his Jolly. He needs her. Needs to feel like himself again. He feels like he’s losing himself. Losing everything. He lost his revenge, the one thing keeping him alive over the centuries. The Croc now dead by his own hand. He’d lost his ship to Pan’s curse. He’d lost…

But now here the Jolly sits, ready to welcome him back with open yardarms. What is he without her? Without his identity as Captain Hook? He’s a pirate. He’s always been a pirate, just as he told the Prince those months back. He needs to get back to that, back to himself, back home to his beloved ship. It’s all he has left.

And Blackbeard is daft if he thinks he can stand in the way.

-- Emma --

He spilled his coffee on her. Ran smack-dab into her on the street, his latte splattered all over her bright red wool coat. It’s the most cliched of meet-cutes - actually, it reminds her of some story she heard a while back. Maybe an old friend met their fiancee that way? Whatever. But still… since her place in Boston burned down, she really does need new furniture for her new home, and the insurance money was surprisingly generous. He seems nice enough. Mostly harmless, anyway. So, when he gives her his business card and an apparently sincere offer to pay for her dry cleaning, she accepts it.

Walsh Ozman, Antiques and Fine Furniture.

But, here’s the thing… The wood puns may be too much for her to handle.

“Wizard of Oak. Really? Was ‘Shiver Me Timbers’ already taken?”

His smile at seeing her in his shop flickers for a moment, and she senses she’s said something wrong, but she can’t imagine what. Perhaps he’s the one who can’t handle it? His grin is right back in place before she can figure it out. He does, in fact, pay for her dry cleaning, and she buys an end table.

He calls her a few days later to ask if she’s satisfied with her purchase. She is, of course. Something about the scrollwork beneath the table top reminds her of ocean waves, and she finds it strangely calming. She’s caught herself more than once tracing her fingers across it absently as she reads a book on her couch. He asks her to dinner, and she says she’ll think about it.

She does. Think about it, that is. Henry is, first and foremost, the love her life. She thanks whatever deity is listening every day that she decided not to give him up all those years ago. Can’t imagine what kind of a person she’d be without her son. She’d probably be a lot more guarded, more jaded, without seeing every day all the light and hope in his sweet, brown eyes.

Still, it’s been just the two of them for years. She didn’t have time for anything resembling a love life when Henry was little, to say nothing of the lingering wounds Neal had left on her heart. Henry’s not a little kid anymore, though, and she’s in a really solid place in her life. Good apartment. Good job. Maybe a nice guy is the logical next step?

She can admit that she’s been lonely. Every once in a blue moon, when the loneliness got too much for her to bear, she’d been known to send Henry off to sleep over with a friend, while she ‘slept over’ with a stranger. Not that she ever spent the night.

It feels like ages since she’s even had that level of adult contact, though. She literally can’t remember the last time that someone made her feel, well, anything really. Not even base lust, and certainly not anything resembling an actual emotion.

Even as she thinks the words, something pricks at the back of her mind. It’s not a memory exactly. Or really, it’s more like a memory of a memory? Is that even a thing? Like a Xerox of a photograph. Faded, corrupted, colorless, but still there. Pieces of a dream, maybe. Has to be. Who the hell would wear black leather in a jungle in real life? As if she’s ever even seen a jungle.

Emma Swan is far too pragmatic to let herself get bogged down in fantasy. So yeah, after getting the official go-ahead from Henry, she agrees to go to dinner with Walsh. And he’s kind, and he likes Henry, and there’s something familiar and appealing about his dark eyebrows and messy hair.

So, she tells herself to hope that this, this is what’s been missing. This is the thing that’s finally going to make her feel like she’s found a home.

And she’s not about to let some stupid dream stand in her way.

-- Blackbeard --

By Neptune’s left testicle, look what the tide’s washed in! That bloody ponce has some gall to show his face in here. He knows full well this is the regular gaming establishment patronized by Blackbeard’s crew. Wonder how he feels seeing the Captain himself in residence this evening?

Perhaps he thought his old nemesis had been swept up in this latest curse, but even a scurvy git like Hook should know better. He’s not the only sailor on these waters with the sense to steer clear of an onslaught of purple smoke. If he only knew how easily Blackbeard could extract himself from any… unfortunate situation.

He’d have used a bean when Hook made him walk the plank if that little mermaid hadn’t saved him the trouble. He’s always got a handful on him at any given time, and when he runs low, he simply uses one to transport himself to the uncharted island where he grows the blasted things. Oh, everyone believed that all the beans had been destroyed when Prince James (the original, not his insipid twin) and his little strumpet Jack defeated the Giants of the Beanstalk. Certainly, Blackbeard’s taken great pains (and inflicted great pains - ha!) to ensure that is the only story being told.

In truth, the Prince had managed to steal a small cache of the beans before the last giant set the fields ablaze, then paid Blackbeard a ludicrous sum of gold to hide them from King George. Probably planning a patricidal coup or some such thing. Blackbeard swears the Prince would’ve made an excellent pirate, not that it matters anymore. The Prince went and got himself killed, and there was no other living soul to know Blackbeard still had possession of the beans.

So, he’d made a little investment of them. He’d located a tiny island not found on any map, gathered up a crew of… shall we say, 'indentured workers' to plow and plant for him, and now he’s got a field full of lovely little stalks growing as many beans as he could possibly need. Even used one to pay off a former fairy for a bit of cloaking magic, to ensure his plantation is never discovered.

Honestly, you’d think someone would’ve noticed by now. How he can be in Arendelle in the morning and the farthest reaches of the Maritime Kingdom by tea time. Bloody idiots, the whole lot. Heads firmly up their own arses.

Ha! Oh, but this is too delicious. Hook absolutely reeks of desperation, and apparently, one such bean is the object of his desire. No. Check that. It’s a woman. Captain-bloody-Hook has been bested by a woman!

This is rich. Simply glorious! He swears by all the gods, this is the best day of his life. He shall not take a single coin of Hook’s gold. No, no. The son of a codfish tried to kill him. His utter humiliation is a far better price. Blackbeard wants Hook’s ship - the very ship they dueled over before - and he’ll accept nothing less. Far be it for him to tell Hook he’s got hundreds of the damn beans at his disposal.

Let the fool trade away his pride. His ship. His home. And all for some damned wench! Ha!

-- Henry --

He knows. She hasn’t said anything, but he knows. Henry’s a pretty smart kid, after all. And it’s been just the two of them - he and his mom against the world - for too long for him not to notice.

Walsh really seems like a good guy. He’s got terrible taste in music and his store has, like, the lamest name ever, but Henry can tell the guy actually likes his mom. Like… like , likes her.

It just... Doesn’t seem like enough? He can’t explain it. His mom still seems like something is holding her back. Like her brain and heart aren’t talking to each other. She loves Walsh - says she does anyway - but Henry is grown up enough now to know there’s a difference between love and Capital-L Love .

Henry knows his mom loves him , though. Capital L truly loves him. No question. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still lonely. For, you know, the other kind of love. He worries about her. He’s the kid and she’s the parent - she likes to remind him of that when he’s acting ‘too grown up’ - but he still does.  And she’s definitely, totally, lonely.

He just… he wishes they could find that missing piece, you know? So, he asks her to go with him to his usual thinking spot. That big fountain right beside the library. The books kind of help him focus, and the water… well, that’s what fountains are for. Wishing.

He feels - he’s always felt - like there’s something about this place. Something special. Magical.  That’s stupid, he guesses, but he can’t think of a better word for it. So, he tosses his coin and makes a wish.

He knows his mom thinks he’s upset about something from school, and he should tell her he’s worried about her. He should. But there’s something holding him back, too. Something he can’t quite remember. He doesn’t know how to tell her what he thinks is missing because he really doesn’t know. There’s just this empty space, you know?

So, he tosses a coin and he wishes - more than he’s ever wished for anything - for their little family to be complete. He isn’t even sure what he means by that. He just feels like they’re waiting for something. That something is out there waiting for them. An adventure, a future, a home.

-- Emma --

What. The hell. Just happened. Emma blinks once, twice, and again, licking her lips before she can think better of it. She can’t really think of anything. Her brain feels like a cat in a YouTube video frantically scrambling on a freshly waxed floor, but never actually getting anywhere.

“Mom? Who was that?”

“No idea. Someone must’ve left the door open downstairs.”

Because no. She had no idea who he was. Just some crazy person. He had to be, but she…

Sh- she…

She froze . Emma Swan absolutely vapor locked. It was weird enough that she opened the door without looking out the peephole first - especially since the way he’d pounded on the door already had her on high alert, but even so. A strange guy dressed like a freaking pirate is standing in her hallway sighing her name as if she’s an oasis in the desert and she just, what? Stands there with her mouth hanging open, squinting at him, listening to his voice, trying to place him.

Why would she do that? Why not just slam her door in the face of the weirdo in his elaborate costume? Nope. She asked him if she knew him. As if she’d forget that face. Or that outfit.

What the hell is wrong with her? Why did he seem so familiar?

And, and, and -

God, he telegraphed that kiss. Like, every nerve ending in her body could sense it coming from the way he was looking at her alone, not to mention the awkward full body twitch before he leaned in. Even if she wasn’t a pro at reading body language, the guy practically had a neon sign over his head that said, ‘I’m about to reach for you.’

And she stood there. And let him. She didn’t step back. She didn’t grab his wrist and twist it behind him and shove his pretty face into the wall and shout for Henry to bring her handcuffs.

She stood there and closed her eyes and… time stopped. She was in a jungle, the one from her dream. Everything smelled leafy and sweaty and a mosquito was biting the back of her neck, but she didn’t give a single fuck because his lips were touching hers, and it felt like - it felt like…

Funny thing about time stopping. When it starts back up again, it zooms ahead even faster to catch up to where it should have been. It also makes a noise that sounds very much like your own voice screaming in your ear, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The kick to his balls was a (literal) knee-jerk reaction. But even then - even then - she still stood there talking to him. A random stranger kisses her on the mouth and she gives him the chance to explain himself. Like he’d tell her the truth.

He was telling her the truth.

Just because he believes it, that doesn’t make it true.

Oh, sure, she threatened to call the cops and finally managed to remember that her door does, in fact, close. But god, the whole interaction…

There shouldn’t have been a whole interaction. Who even is she today?

Maybe she’s overly tired. She’s been working a lot of late nights recently. Maybe tonight she’ll take a sleeping pill so she’ll get a good night’s rest. No...unwanted dreams. Unwanted in the sense that she doesn’t want confirmation of exactly where she’s seen his face before.

Maybe her blood sugar is out of whack and she just needs some pancakes and hot cocoa.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

-- Henry --

What. Was. That. Let’s eat? That’s all she’s gonna say? Henry’s twelve, he’s not deaf and blind. Fine. If that’s how she wants to be, Henry can play it cool, too.   And he’ll do it better than her, without all the out-of-breath huffing. He can keep a secret after all. He hasn’t told her that Walsh is about to propose, even though it’s been a week since he asked for Henry’s blessing. So, fine. He won’t talk to her about this either.

But like… really? He knows what he heard. There was some guy at the door - he definitely heard a guy’s voice - and that guy was talking about  Cs mom having a family and that her family was in trouble and, well… Henry’s also about 99% sure his mom punched the guy or something. But then she kept talking to him? What even is that?

It was kind of like she knew the guy, but she didn’t at the same time, if that makes any sense. She never opens the door for people she doesn’t know or isn’t expecting. She says it's because of all the skips she’s put in jail. Never know when one might try to come after her. Or him. She’s really protective of him. She wouldn’t even let Walsh come over until they’d been dating for months .

Really, his mom is being super weird, even now that the guy is gone. She never acts like this. Her face is flushed, she keeps licking her lips and it’s not because of the pancake syrup. She hasn’t even touched her food which is also very un-momlike behavior. She loves food. About the only time Henry ever sees her this way is when she’s really close to solving a big case, like right on the edge of figuring it out.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe that guy is part of some big case she’s trying to crack.

Or… maybe she’s just being weird because she’s got a date with Walsh at some fancy restaurant tonight and she’s figured out what he’s going to do. That’s probably it. He really wants his mom to be happy, and if marrying Walsh will do that, then he’s cool with it. But, he’s not sure. It could be Walsh is the missing piece for their family like Henry had wished, but it doesn’t seem to fit somehow. He’s not sure why.

Speaking of that wish, Henry can’t stop thinking about what the strange guy yelled right before his mom slammed the door. “You have to remember, ” he’d said. Like it was the most important thing ever.

Family. They have to remember. It’s all so… Henry’s not sure, but it sends a shiver down his spine. It was seriously just a couple of days ago that he’d made that wish. That their family would be complete. Because it felt like there was something out there that he couldn’t quite remember. It’s spooky and way too much of a coincidence to let slide.

So, maybe magic isn’t so stupid after all? Maybe some strange guy showing up is somehow connected to his wish? And his mom just slammed the door in the guy’s face!

-- Killian --

That went… about as poorly as he should have expected. Nothing is ever easy with that lass. Crumpled on the floor outside her door, Killian isn’t sure which hurts more, his manhood or his heart. She did a rather stunning job of crushing both.

He’s a bloody idiot. He should have known, should have realized that she didn’t… that she wasn’t…

Gods above and below, he actually attempted to give her True Love’s Kiss. They’d only ever shared one kiss of any kind. One soul-shattering, life-altering kiss, to be sure but…

A one-time thing. Don’t follow me.

It was just a kiss. How is that your darkest secret?

He should have known, but he had hoped. He’d hoped in a way that he didn’t think he would ever be capable of doing again. She’s given him that, and even as he sloshes through a mire of self-loathing disappointment, he’s grateful to her.

I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah… that is, until I met you.

She is his new dream, his beacon guiding him out of the storm into a fair harbor. It matters not that she doesn’t return his feelings. He came here to save her, not to make love to her. He will find a way. He will bring her back to the people who love her. All the people who love her. He shall bring her home and she’ll save the day once more, not because she’s ‘The Savior’, but because she’s Emma-bloody-Swan and he’s yet to see her fail.

He must not give up. He must encourage her to remember who she is, her true self, not whomever Regina’s blasted false memories have conjured her into thinking she is. Emma is a smart woman, practical, but with a keen intuition. He’ll need hard evidence to get her to listen to him. Once she does, he hopes (there’s that word again) that her innate ability for detecting lies will convince her he’s speaking the truth.

But what evidence can he possibly offer? He racks his brain as he drags his sorry carcass off the floor and stumbles down the hallway. Gods, but this is a strange land. All these people living in what amounts to nothing more than little crates all stacked on top of each other into towering monstrosities. He’s seen tenement buildings in his travels, of course, but nothing like…

Wait. He’s seen exactly this kind of tenement before. It was here, in this very land. Baelfire’s - that is to say, Neal’s - place. He found it once. Perhaps he can locate it again? He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but this may very well be his only chance. The only place he can find something to make Emma believe again.

And when she believes, when she remembers… No. He tries once more to snuff out the tiny spark inside him that should have been fully doused when her knee connected with his groin, and yet it persists.

When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

Perhaps she did want him. Perhaps she does… No. No, no, no. No. At the very least, he cannot waste time thinking on it now.

For now, he must focus on the task of getting her to believe. To remember. Once she does, he will bring her home.

Whatever happens after that, well… That’s up to her. As for him, he’s made his decision. Even before he made the deal with Blackbeard. Home is where the heart is, after all, and his heart is with Emma Swan.

[hell-and-pepsi]

what is a tagged can you eat it

I guess I was tagged by @ilwinsgarden ? That was a surprise, people don’t tag me in stuff too often, thank you very much!

Rules: Answer all the questions, then add one of your own, and tag as many people as there are questions

1) Coke or Pepsi? I never drank coke in my life. I tried Pepsi once so I guess Pepsi.

2) Disney or Dreamworks? I’d say Dreamworks, especially since my brother is a huge fan of How to Train your Dragon

3) Coffee or Tea? Tea, in all forms and quantities - from a cheap-arse tea bag put in a bucket of hot water to exquisite brands prepared by the rules of the Chinese traditional tea ceremonies

4) Books or movies? First read the book, then watch the movie based on it. Never vice versa (except if the book is really crappy compared to the movie)

5) Windows or mac? Windows! Also doors. Illuminators. Ceiling lights. Ventilation vents. If you can punch a hole through a wall, that’s nice too.

6) D.C. or Marvel? Not a fan of either.

7) Xbox or PlayStation? Never had neither of them.

8) Dragon age or mass effect? I never played neither of them and I don’t even have friends that played any of these :(

9) Night owl or early riser? Early riser. If you can manage to, which doesn’t happen to often to me unfortunately.

10) Cards or chess? I can barely play any card games, I don’t even know the names of the card suits in Russian (but I know them perfectly in English because Homestuck.) So chess, even though I haven’t played chess either in a very long time.

11) Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate any time.

12) Vans or converse? I don’t care much for fashion so either is fine

13) Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar? Low Sorbian? Volapük? Or are those not weird language names?

14) Fluff or angst? Both. Both is good. 

15) Beach or forest? Um. Have you looked at my username. Well, I guess you should just look at it again

16) Dogs or cats? Cats! Especially my cat, Sebastian. Though dogs are cool as well.

17) Clear skies or rain? Clear sky! I am basically a reverse vampire, I can’t live without a blue sky and a bright sun up above. Also, stars at night *_*

18) Cooking or eating out? I’m broke, so cooking.

19) Spicy or mild food? I like spicy. But honestly, it all depends on the ability of the cook. Mild food can be very tasty too if done right.

20) Halloween/Samhain or solstice/yule/Christmas? @ilwinsgarden while answering this question said that they don’t celebrate Hallowe’en in Czech Republic and I relate - we don’t celebrate it in Russia as well save for the occasional shop sell. 

But here we go even more extreme - we don’t celebrate Christmas either! In the Soviet times the main winter celebration shifted to New Year’s Eve, and that’s what we celebrate mainly up to this day. Christmas is a religious holiday solely, and moreover, because Russia is mainly an Orthodox Christian country and not a Prothestantic/Catholic/Anglican one, we celebrate Christmas two weeks later than Catholics (January the 7th).

Actually, even putting cultural differences aside, I don’t like the themes of both holidays. The modern media has generalized and cheapened them so that Hallowe’en is merely pumpkin spice and costumes instead of being a spiritual day, and Christmas is merely presents and trees instead of an important Christian milestone. I guess I enjoy Christmas a little bit more.

21) Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? Uhhh, that’s a tough one! But I am actually often a little too cold (including today), so if I choose a little too hot perhaps it can cancel it out? :D

22) If you could have a superpower what would it be? There are so many choices! Super intellengence would be helpful. Teleportation would allow me to travel anywhere in the world for free. If I could create plant life or accelerate its speed of growth, I could end famine.

23) Animation or live action? Both have their perks. Currently I’m more invested in animation, but I would really like to explore live action movies and even create ones myself.

24) Paragon or renegade? Okay, so I learnt a new English word today! Paragon, huh. And as much as I love the sound of that word I choose renegade. I’m a rebel by nature.

25) Bath or shower? Showers are cooler and more eco-friendly, but when you’re tired all you want is a nice hot bath. So both once again, depending on your state.

26) Team Cap or team Ironman? Like I said above, I’m not a fan of Marvel.

27) Fantasy or sci-fi? Don’t make me choose like this! But when I was younger I definitely enjoyed sci-fi more, and I know there’s still a lot of classic authors for me to explore.

28) Do you have 3 or 4 favorite quotes if so what are they? Oh boy, you came for a treat. “Fears are caused by a lack of understanding. And in the world we live in, you have unlimited information out there. There’s no reason you should be afraid of anything”  - Ethoslab, my most favourite Youtuber and Minecrafter ever. I don’t remember the exact episode, but I believe it was in his Let’s Play series around 390-410 ish, when he was building Sandy City.

“I mean, I know you want it to stay pleasant around here, but — there are so many things … that are so much better. Like silly, or sexy, or dangerous … or brave. And every one of those things is in you all the time, if you just have the guts to look for them.”  - Bud Parker, from the movie Pleasantville. Go watch it. It’s a true piece of art. I watched it in my English class in detail and it was absolutely delightful and amazing and so, so true.

“I never let school interfere with my education.”  - (incorrect, I think) Mark Twain. Sums my feeling about school perfectly.

“Every moment is the moment, and everything you lose, you lose forever.”  - my teacher. He told us once to remember this saying very carefully, even if we don’t understand it fully, because there may come a time where it will be very, very true for us. It is one of those quotes that you do not memorize, but which memorizes you instead.

29) YouTube or Netflix? I don’t have a Netflix account and I don’t even know whether the site is available in my country. But I spend endless hours on Youtube.

30) Harry Potter or Percy Jackson? Look at my nickname and my avatar yet again... plus I never quite got into Percy Jackson. I think I only read one book. Its fans make cool fanart though, with many different ships.

31) When do you feel accomplished? When I do something that’s supposed to be “in my field” and I do excellent on it. Also, contrariwise, when I have to go through something I’m scared or unexperienced to do and perform well.

32) Star Wars or Star Trek? Okay, please don’t kill me for this, but I never watched a Star Wars movie in my life. I also didn’t watch Star Trek, but I relate to it a little bit more because I’m a fan of Doctor Who which is a show from the same time. Plus Star Trek is responsible for a lot of modern sci-fi tropes, its fans started the modern fanfiction culture (including the concept of shipping), and it’s a historical and innovative piece in general.

33) Paperback books or hardcover books? I don’t have a strong opinion of this, and I read books online mostly nowadays. In my experience, different kinds of books are more prone to being in a hardcover or in paperback. Both of those types can be very enjoyable.

34) Fantastic beasts or Cursed child? Seen/read neither. (I feel so ignorant while answering those... haven’t seen that, haven’t read that...) But from what I saw and heard, especially from my little brother, Cursed Child is a hectic fanfiction piece somehow gone canon (and Rowling had barely to do with it anyway) and Fantastic Beasts is, well, a fantastic piece of work. Also Americans got their own Potter movie. (like A Very Potter musical wasn’t enough)

35) Rock or pop music? My music taste is dictated by artist, not style. That being said, nowadays I have more favourites in pop than rock.

36) What is the most important thing in your life? Keeping close to my principles/morals. Expressing those principles and morals in one way or another, because I find it something important to show to other people. Trying to help the people I call my friends. Trying to make sense in this big mess of things we call the world.

37) Mountains or sea/ocean? Tough question again! But I guess I’ve been to the sea like, thrice in my life, and never been to the mountains, so sea/ocean.

38) How do you express yourself? Mostly in words and sometimes in action. But my ultimate goal is to create content through which I could successfully express my view of the world.

39) What’s the first book/film that really counted to you? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. When I was little I never cried at books at movies. But there was something in chapter 34 (where Harry has learn the truth about himself and goes to the Forbidden Forest to be killed by Voldemort) that made me shed my very first tear. The name of the chapter was The Forest Again, so, well, you can see how big of an impact it was for me.

40) What’s your element (air, water, etc.)? I want to be the Avatar! :D But seriously, I can’t really choose. By my star sign, Leo, it’s fire.

41) If you could travel anywhere, where would you go? Is “everywhere” an option?

42) If you had any job in the world, what would it be? A teacher in a school that is actually a good school. Not that those exist. Or a cartoon/anime/movie director/screenwriter.

43) If you were granted three wishes, what would they be? I guess all unlimited wishes hacks are banned, so:

1) World piece 2) Unlimited food to end world famine 3) Unlimited eco-friendly power source to end (most of) the world’s ecological problems.

44) If you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Pizza! Because you can put anything on a pizza.

45) What’s currently the most pressing issue on your mind, and what’s stopping you from fixing it? Is “everything” an option” [2]? But seriously, it’s probably my unpreparement for the uncoming exams and the search for my future career. The first one is caused by just lazyness and the boringness/objective unimportance of the exams, and the second time always takes time, naturally. So they are pressing, but at the same time I don’t worry too much at “failing” them.

46) What is your dream companion animal? A cat! Or a cool bird, like a jay or an oreole.

47) Raptors or songbirds? Raptor songbirds. Just imagine.

48) Do you think there is life on other planets in universe? “Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying. “ Arthur C. Clarke sums my opinion on this pretty welI

Woah, that’s a lot of questions! It also took me a lot of time to answer them, it’s super late for me now. Here’s my question:

49: If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, what would be some of the things that you do?

And I can’t possibly tag 49 people, so here’s just some: @polyglotplatypus, @kuufox, @artisticprotector, @cultureklub, @crap-iccioso,  @glannniglaepur, @stefan-stefansson, @moonpaw17, @klavierr, @antialiasis, @johannesviii and basically anyone else who wants to do this. And if you don’t want to do it, of course you’re not obliged in any way. @ilwinsgarden thank you so much for tagging me once again!