#that you can just meet people in public!! and especially that bookstores are sort of...

[a-passing-storm]

I have forgotten that it is actually kind of Therapy Homework for me to post things online!

[astaroth1357]

MC's Family Finds Out that They're Actually Dating a Demon the Hard Way

Demon boys more or less going demon on the MC's family. Bound to happen really. This one ain’t so cuddly guys. Special thanks to @anonimo324 for the inspiration for this one. Literally never would have occurred to me if they hadn't have said something and I love the excuse to revisit this idea. 😄 

Check out the Masterlist for more!

IMPORTANT: Continuation to "Demon Brothers Meeting the MC's Family" The general setup to this post is in that one.

Lucifer

You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true, right?

Oh, their MC's new boyfriend was smooth, put together, intelligent…

And prideful. So very prideful.

It radiated off of him like no tomorrow, there was just a subtle but constant air of superiority to everything the man did or said. Some may find it attractive but others? It can drive other people right up the wall.

And that's exactly what it did to some members of the MC's family. Even if he seemed educated and well-spoken what made him think he was so special? What made him think he was just so much better than the rest of the world??

They couldn't have known just how angry he'd get when they confronted him about it.

They couldn't have known that they weren’t questioning an arrogant man, but a prideful demon who'd take offense at the mere thought of being anywhere near their level.

It was only when he stood towering before them, demonic wings and horns in full view, did they learn the folly of their actions.

In their hospital beds, bones broken and bodies bruised, they'd rant and rave to anyone who'd listen "He's a demon! A demon! My child/sibling/etc. is dating a demon!!"

The MC disappeared with Lucifer that night, however. Their family writes them off as either dead or kidnapped for torture purposes.

In truth, they returned to the Devildom and Lucifer will never hear the end of how he lost control and attempted to skewer the MC's family members. Surely such a mighty demon should have better control than that... 🙄😑

Mammon

His dumbass let it slip a couple months in, but not without good reason for once.

He had actually been doing pretty well with their family. Sure he wasn't perfect,  but he made it clear enough he was looking out for MC and honestly the rest of them as well.

It was small things. Checking up on them sometimes. Making sure the little ones, if any, were safe. Not stealing anything that isn't nailed down (though that's something the MC notices more than their family of course).

It takes a lot. A lot. A LOT to make Mammon break out his demon form. He's better at keeping it in than Lucifer. But showing him something that’s threatening MC is actually a pretty quick why to do it.

The family was out together on a shopping trip, a giddy Mammon included because he knew that meant he could beg ask the MC to buy him stuff.

They really should have checked before they started strolling down the damn crosswalk, but they didn't, and an impatient taxi went hurtling towards them.

Before they could even open their eyes Mammon was already lecturing them about their stupidity, holding them on the other side of the street. Shirtless because his demon form was out and the dumbass forgot to hide it again. Even though they were in public.

He was quick to change back once he noticed, but the damage was done. You can say their family was a little surprised that he straight up grew wings and horns. Only one of them fainted anyway.

To avoid causing further panic, Mammon just legs it away with MC still in his arms, shouting back an quick expletive laced "apology" over his shoulder.

MC smooths things over with their family later by phone. No one can quite wrap their head around the fact that Mammon is a demon, despite what they had seen, but it helps that he did seem to want to protect them.

The MC is not allowed to come home if they want to bring their demon boyfriend too, but their family isn't as worried about them as they could be. Mammon's looking out for them after all.

Leviathan 

Okay. They always knew the boy was a little weird but hot damn did that opinion suddenly go from 0 to 60 real quick.

Levi was distant and off-putting at first but in time it became pretty clear that he was just pretty awkward. He wasn't the best with people, but he seemed harmless enough.

It was the MC's idea to bring him along on a family weekend trip to the beach. They honestly couldn't understand why at first. He never seemed to like being with them...

It DID start to click for them a little more when they saw the guy in the water though. They can say it's probably the first time they'd ever seen him so comfortable in his own skin. He even started smiling!

Things were actually going smoothly for them all for once… until other people started taking notice of MC in their swimsuit and one bold gentleman decided to make a cheeky comment on it.

Now, Levi had always stuck close to MC when he was around them. He was practically a second shadow. But it seemed like the second he took notice of those glances he got extra clingy and after that comment.. he started to have a meltdown.

The once bold gentleman was kindly picked up by the neck and hurdled into the ocean like a Frisbee. It would have been hilarious if it weren't so horrifying.

It was about the time that the lad grew a snake tail that the MC's family peaced out off the beach, screaming in terror. MC and Levi left too, mostly because Levi was hellbent on dragging them back to the Devildom in a jealous rage. Obviously THIS is the kind of shit that happens when he leaves his room!

No plans are ever made to go visit again, which he's very happy about. He hated being out in "the real world" anyway.

Satan

Nice as he could be, that temper was bound to catch up to him eventually…

There would be small incidents. A kid cuts him off on the sidewalk and he'd get a little loud and snippy about it. A dog won't stop barking at him and he'd just glare and send it away with a terrified whimper. These things were… worrisome. But not all that demonic.

Then other red flags started showing up. A person on the street would be rude to him and he'd look honestly ready to kill. It'd take MC physically holding him back to keep him in place. Their family was worried about them… Had they'd fallen victim to a possible abuser...?

MC had never listened to what their family had to say, always claiming that they were perfectly safe with their boyfriend. That he had to listen to what they said. But no one really bought that…

Well if there is one way to piss Satan off (and there are many) probably the fastest and most lethal is to doubt his intelligence. Especially if you're only one of those everyday, average humans...

That poor employee at the bookstore had no idea what kind of mistake they made when he told Satan he wasn't looking for Camus but Kafka then refused to double check. Satan doesn't make mistakes about his authors. Ever.

What was originally just supposed to be a relaxing afternoon with the family turned into a night in the station as everyone was questioned about the employee whose head got flattened against the store counter-top. The police weren't entirely convinced a demon did it, but they would look for a blonde.

Said demon had chucked MC over his shoulder and took off before the police arrived to investigate, which as far as they're concerned also kind of amounts to kidnapping.

Satan's now a fugitive in the MC's hometown and on the FBI's Most Wanted List so safe to say that they won't really be visiting anymore.

Asmodeus 

Not as surprised as you might think. There were some signs…

Asmo had a bewitching quality to him that went well into the unnatural. He could soothe and win over right about any person or animal to an… uncomfortable degree.

He also kept bringing up and babbling about nonsense products all the time. He always seemed to have the perfect hair treatment or know the best drinks but no one else had ever heard of any of it. What the heck even is Demonus…?

But the real kicker was, well, just how lustful he was. There were horn dogs and then there was this guy. It felt like he could flirt with a potted plant sometimes.

Though he was nice, no one in their house thought Asmo was faithful to MC. And even if he were, his blatant willingness to tease right about anyone he came across was showing them disrespect. 

Unfortunately, they had made the poor decision to confront him about it and claim that he didn't actually "love" MC….

There are few things more brutal and less forgiving than an enraged Asmo. Here he was with these humans, people he had been nothing but nice to, and they were doubting his love for MC?? What gave them the right!?

He had his demon form out and his whip already raised to teach these slanderers a lesson! Even if he had grown to like some of them, his anger took over his reason and he had to vent his displeasure NOW.

The MC stepped in before he could crack the whip and made him stop. Their family was terrified but he charmed them into calming down while he and MC talked things out.

They (by which I mean mostly a fuming Asmo) decided that since their family couldn't understand their love for each other, they didn't deserve to see it.

They leave the house calmly and don't come back. MC still sometimes calls their family, but they refuse to leave the Devildom or their beautiful fallen angel, no matter how much their family pleads for them to come home.

Beelzebub 

On the one hand, absolutely no one wants to believe it… But it also does make a lot of things make more sense in hindsight.

Like, he was built like a linebacker so it was sort of understandable just how many calories his body seemed to need but there was a limit.

He. Just. Kept. Eating. Never-endingly hungry. Always poking through the kitchen or ordering a mountain of pizzas. More impressively, he never made any leftovers… Ever.

He was such a sweetheart though… They tried to turn a blind eye for a while. Make excuses and rationalize the impossible… but it couldn't last.

It was only supposed to be one nice dinner out. MC had gone over the rules with him ten times before going, "This is a human restaurant and I'm paying, so you HAVE to stop at thirds. Okay? Okay??"

He tried. But the food was sooo good, he just couldn’t stop! And, like clockwork, here comes the manager to cut him off and there goes an angry Beel. Full demon form, tossing tables and wrecking chairs to everyone's absolute horror.

MC had to use the pact to stop him. They could only leave their family with a quick goodbye before they had to book it from the cops on Beel's back as he flew away.

To say there was a mini-meltdown among the members left behind would be an understatement. What the HELL just happened to the sweet young man they had come to know???

The damages were paid for by Lucifer a "mysterious donor" and everything was explained to their family by MC over video call from the Devildom with a very guilty and apologetic Beel in attendance.

When it was clear that the MC wasn't going to leave him or literal Hell despite their protests, they either had to accept it or never hear from them again. Members made their choices, but it's pretty hard to stay mad at someone they've grown to like so much...

He's no longer allowed to go visit them in the human world (which is probably for the best) but shows up on MC's video calls regularly. They still kind of think of him as family even if he could eat them all. He's just such a nice lad, you know?

Belphegor

…. You know, there was always something kind of off about that kid.

It was always hard to place what made Belphie so… different. It could have been the way he never seemed to take any of them seriously or the kind of amazing lack of energy he brought to things.

It also could have been the fact he kept making comments about being a demon, going to "hell," knowing Satan personally, etc. but always played them off as jokes.

Honestly when it finally came out that yes, he was actually a demon, it was almost a relief because it made waaaay more sense than not.

Still fucking terrifying, though.

One of their family members had made the mistake of waking him up from a nap when he and MC were there for a visit

Now. It's not easy to wake Belphie even on a good day but an airhorn to the face is probably not the way to go about it.

When he sent said family member soaring out the window, one-handed, with his horns and tail on full display and a familiar look of murder in his eyes, MC knew the charade was pretty much up...

True to his word, Belphie doesn't let some humans keep MC away from him. He scooped them up and hopped out the broken window before they could really even protest or explain anything.

Which, I mean, how does one even go about smoothing over the fact your demon boyfriend just yeeted one of your family members out of the house?

Their family is kind of able to put two and two together themselves regardless. Which is good because neither Belphie or MC are probably coming back any time soon. If ever. Hope they enjoy postcards...

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Oases

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

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I’ve talked a lot about the importance of safe places, of how important it is for us to be able to be our true selves. I’ve talked about how our families and the Society provide us those spaces, but I haven’t really talked about those spaces themselves yet, or how they operate. I call them oases. Kestrel calls me dramatic. She needs to lighten up {Editing Note: Does that sound funny or mean?}. As ever, though, I’m an anthropologist, and I need my definitions if I’m going to explain things clearly, so oases is what I’m going to keep calling them.

While I’m being scientific, indulge me in some definitions. An oasis is any place run by ghouls that caters to ghoulish needs or wants. I’ll subdivide those further into open oases and closed oases.

{Editing Note: As far as I know, I’m the first person to formally classify this stuff. Am I naming them right? If this book is as successful as I want it to be, these terms are going to be used forever. Should I stick my last name on one of these? Would that be egotistical?}

Whatever you first think of when you hear “safe place” or “ghoul haven” or whatever, you’re probably thinking of a closed oasis. A closed oasis is a place for ghouls and ghouls only. No humans allowed, and usually no ghouls that haven’t been invited either, given our usual security concerns. These places are usually specifically social spaces, like bars or private clubs, places specifically designed for ghouls to unwind without having to keep our true natures hidden. These places are more varied than I’ve probably made them sound, to be clear. Like, I’ve been to an all-ghoul book club meeting before.

We were reading Dracula, in case you were wondering.

The closed oasis that I’m most familiar with is a members-only poker club, at least in name. Obviously I’m not going to name it here, but a lot more goes on there than poker. They keep a bit of flesh on hand, obviously, but it’s not really an eatery. The proprietor, Goji, has done a little of everything to hear him tell it. I know he’s a damn good card shark, and I don’t know if I actually believe that he was in an all-ghoul circus, but he can actually sword-swallow. And he’s a talented tattoo artist, if a little too willing to work on drunk teenagers. Scarlet’s Shakespeare tramp stamp is exceptional, but for some reason he doesn’t like it when we tell him that {Editing Note: That might actually be too much identifying information. I don’t think that’s a common tattoo}. Spatha, on the other hand, really likes showing off the sword he did for her. I kind of wish she’d gotten it in a less intimate spot, what with how eager she is to flash it.

{Editing Note: Clean that paragraph up. The fine line between relatable and rambling keeps eluding me.}

Other than that, Goji’s place has got some nice couches and beanbags, a pretty good tv, and even a few old arcade machines. It’s just a genuinely pleasant place to unwind. It even has a pretty decent bar. Given the rest of his clientele, I don’t think serving drinks to minors counts as much of a moral quandary for him. I do wish he’d cut Scorpio off sooner, though. He’s of age now, but he gets drunk fast, and when he gets drunk he gets weepy.

Goji’s an accepting guy, though, which is mostly a blessing. Being a ghoul doesn’t make us immune to human prejudices, so it’s doubly nice to get a break from the less instantly deadly kinds of othering. We’ve met a lot of interesting people at his place, a lot of ghouls from a lot of backgrounds with a lot of stories to tell and ideas to share. Not that I’m always entirely comfortable with what they have to say. One of the advantages of a closed oasis is that it gives ghouls a place to vent their frustrations with humans, which is important, but some of the venting from the ghouls less integrated into human society, like the Hunters, goes places that I’m not comfortable with. Even if it’s just hot air, I don’t like hearing about how much better things were when “humans were our cattle.” Especially not from people who choose to kill for their food.

{Editing Note: I don’t know if it’s safe to include that here. I want to present an accurate portrait of us, not an idealized one, but I haven’t even talked about Hunters as a group yet. That might be too much, too soon, too bluntly.}

Open oases, on the other hand, are an entirely different beast. Open oases cater to humans as well as ghouls. Obviously the humans don’t know that ghouls are part of the target clientele, and they aren’t places where we can typically be fully ourselves, but they have other advantages. Open restaurants or candy shops or bakeries give us places we can go with our human friends and not have to eat food that makes us sick. Open doctors can check our teeth and claws for problems, and they can check the rest of our bodies too, for that matter - we avoid normal doctors like the plague for reasons that I hope are obvious. I even know of a few open butchers, though I’ve never needed to go to one myself.

I have, however, spent a lot of time at one particular open oasis: my patron’s shop. She runs it as a small indie bookstore with a cute little cafe attached. The cafe will serve you flesh burgers or sandwiches if you know the right signal, which makes it a decent place to meet new ghouls discreetly. I know Yaga uses it to meet other influential ghouls that she considers dangerous, since it’s too public for them to start trouble. Other than that, the shop floor just operates like a normal book store. Yaga’s fond of her collection and she likes talking to customers and making recommendations.

It’s what’s off the sale floor that makes the bookstore special. In addition to the normal storage space, Yaga maintains guest bedrooms, which she lends out to any ghouls that need a place to lay low, or just to sleep. She’s had all sorts back there - lone fugitives, feral children, sometimes whole families waiting on some fake documents to be ready. She’s especially good at getting ghouls off the streets and integrated back into human society. Kestrel was living in one of those guest rooms when I first joined the household.

I met her the summer before I returned to public school - high school, specifically - and my mom and I were still in the early stages of integrating into the household. Yaga offered to watch me while my mom was at work, and she let me hang out in the bookstore and read whatever I wanted while she handled customers. My mom ended up having to work late, though, so Yaga kept me around for dinner, and introduced me to a girl who was staying with her for awhile. 

Kestrel’s about two years younger than me, we think, and her growth spurt ended up being more of a growth bump when it finally came, but even then she was tiny. She was also quiet, but I’d always wanted a younger sibling, so I didn’t let that deter me. I asked a lot of frankly insensitive questions. I wouldn’t get real answers to most of them until later, and the ones I did get aren’t really mine to share, but suffice it to say that she was a feral orphan before Yaga took her in. Yaga didn’t think she was ready to interact with the human general public unsupervised yet, but I promised to watch out for her like a really good big sister if she got to come hang out with me the next time I visited.

I didn’t get an answer that night, but when my mom dropped me off again a week later, Yaga went and got her. She didn’t really appreciate me trying to be her big sister, but she did want to be my friend. It was a little awkward at first, but I’ve always been pretty good at getting to know new people, and pretty soon she was joining me and Scarlet and Scorpio on our afternoon outings. Turns out she didn’t need the extra family anyway; Yaga formally adopted her a few years later. She’s still one of my best friends, and quiet or not, I swear she’s better adjusted than Scorpio.

Yaga isn’t the only patron out there using an open oasis as a halfway house. It’s not the most common thing in the world - it takes a certain kind of person and a fair few resources - but I think it might be the most valuable thing the oases do. No one needs a space to learn how to be themselves more than the ghouls who slip through the cracks. Kestrel is taking a gap year before she decides on college, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she takes over the shop once Yaga’s gone. I hope, one day, that I can help people like that too.

{Editing Note: I might just be paranoid, but I think that this draft makes it way too easy to find the bookshop, especially since Yaga’s masque isn’t exactly subtle. There can’t be that many indie bookstores/cafes owned by old Russian women with  much younger adopted daughters. I’ll need to do some serious rewrites.}

[moomeecore]

Currently in Minneapolis/St Paul there are very few actual protests anymore, because the cities have gotten so unsafe. Undercover police started most of the more violent actions, and police have escalated them. The corporations like Target being destroyed is fine, and the police station being burned was great - but at this point people have been coming from out of town, and out of state, and using the riots as an excuse to steal and destroy stuff. This includes white supremacists who are using this as a chance to destory the property of minorities as well as make a bad name for protesters. The KKK has litterally been spotted

This is a list of donation links for small buisnesses, libraries, and museums that have been looted or burnt. But first I will give you the GoFundMe for George Floyd's memorial because we should ALWAYS remember, that while peoples livelihoods in the twin cities are being threatened right now because of the damage, buildings being destoryed will never be as important as someones life being taken.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

And here is District Attorney Mike Freeman's number: (612) 348 5550 Tell him you want Derek Chavin on 2nd or 1st degree murder charges and the other 3 officers arrested as well. You can also try contacting the Hennipin Auturney's Office Facebook page here since the phones are known not to work.

Feel free to correct me if any of these links don't work or are fakes, or add on! As someone from MN I know for a fact that more small businesses (+ libraries, museums) where hurt than just these. Also if you dont live here, do remember that even the for the small businesses being destroyed, most of the owners have stated they 100% side with the protesters still.

Under the cut there are donation links for 9 specific buildings as well as some extra links at the end. PLEASE CLICK THROUGH. EVEN A 1 DOLLAR DONATION IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! If you feel bad about not being able to donate- not to worry. Calling the number and contacting the Facebook page above is free, do that !

Now, here's the donation link for Migizi, it is a Native American history museum that was burt down. They have surpassed their original goal, but you should still heavily consider donating. Most of the items in the museum where saved, but some where still lost, and the building itself honestly might have suffered the worst damage of any you'll see on this list.

This doesn't fit into the description of small business or library or museum, but here is a donation link to help fund rebuilding the Tawfiq Mousque, which was burt down as well

This is the donation link for SacDelux, a home-owned consigmnet store owned by two black women that was looted and destroyed, all the windows smashed. It is one store, a small business, and is fairly new, being opened in 2014 I think, making it's destruction extra sad. As of this post, they have only reached about a third of their goal.

This is the GoFundMe for El Sabor Chuchi, a Ecuadorian family-owned restaurant, which was looted and had all it's windows broken. The GoFunMe has only only made a small portion of it's goal, and the owners have small children.

This is the facebook donation group for Ghandi Mahal, a family-run Indian Restaurant that was burnt down. The owner has stated his full support of the protesters, and in fact was helping provide resources for protesters before his building was burned. All of these where obviously not done by actual protesters, but this one especially since the building was used as a space to support protesters. The owner is a very wonderful person, who pledged his support publically to the protests after his building was burned, still stating it was worth it in the hope of positive change!

Here's the GoFundMe for Emily's Eatery, it is a small breakfast diner owned by a family of Italian immigrants. It is a lovley place, honestly, and is not meeting it's donation goal, unfortunatley.

Here's the GoFundMe for Lloy'd Pharmacy, it was a beautiful, independently owned pharmacy in an old historical building and was considered real important to people here in MN, and was burnt down almost completely! It has thankfully reached most of it's goal, but still consider dropping a donation if you can, it's sort of a cultural loss as well as an being an independent store.

Here's the GoFundMe for Midori's Floating World Cafe, it is a cafe owned by a family of Japanese immigrants, and they have shown their full support of the protesters! Unfortunately the store has suffered vandalism and looting.

Here's the GoFundMe for Town Talk Diner. It is a home-owned diner that got looted and completely smashed up and destroyed with vandalism. The owner was actually participating in protests elsewhere when it was destroyed.

OTHER

Here's the donation link for a program called "We Love Lakestreet". All the money is going 100% to community efforts to clean up and repair small businesses on Lake Street, which is in Minneapolis.

Here is the GoFundMe set up by a newfound group called MN teens, which is a community-led group of St Paul and Minneapolis families who plan to split all funds between small businesses in their areas

Also check out the website for Moon Palace Books. It's is a small cafe/bookstore that is owned by LGBT people and considered an LGBT space. They have been using their space to help protesters, and while they haven't got much vandalism, if you plan on buying a book online, consider purchasing from their website to thank them for their support! It is on a block of small buisnesses, most of which are minority owned, a lot of which have not been spared as much as Moon Palace has, and I'd like to think Moon Palace would help the other businesses out, since I can't find donation sources for any right now.

[arigatouiris]

you // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: Bakugou Katsuki is someone I can write about anytime anyday. 

Ehh so this is my first time writing anything yandere and this is happening because guess who binged all of season 1 of You in one day? Me. Yes. And while I haven’t been posting as much, it’s been a very very hectic year for me, mental health-wise and professionally, so using tumblr is a luxury. There’s a twist here because it’s more of a reader being yandere than Bakugou.

Word count: 3254

Pairing: Yandere! Reader x Bakugou (there’s a twist)

Warnings: yandere elements, sexual references

❝

It had been a rather long day. 

Not that you were complaining. With rising levels of anxiety, a long day was a refreshing break from all things related to your mind. Honestly, you like being busy because it somehow takes a large load off of you, giving you a chance to breathe, move around in your own space and think of things that are actually worth thinking about.

And you’re really trying here; to make a difference to yourself. You’re really trying to not let the growing anxiety creep under your skin, to tell you about things that don’t actually matter and despite how much you want to listen to the voice that says ‘if it bothers you, then it matters’, you want to do the right thing and focus on yourself for a change. You’re going to do better, you’re going to stop fixating on things that will only damage you, you’re going to move past what can only hurt you and think of better things, healthier things—

     “Hey,” You spun around and blinked, before your eyes slightly widened at the person you grabbed your attention, “You dropped this.”

Oh.

Oh no.

His eyes were on you, not to say it in a creepy way, but there they were—glowing red and power-hungry, falling on you like satin on the floor. Your hands nearly trembled when he handed you the scarf you had ‘dropped’, and your fingers were inches away from touching one another, not that you wanted to touch how his skin felt like, but it wasn’t something you would have minded. Not one bit. You smile at him, shyly, because you don’t want him thinking you were happy about dropping the scarf. 

His hair was all over the place and you wondered how it would feel like in between your fingers when you grasp at them as he’s holding you, breathing down on your neck, caressing your skin and you could finally know what he smelt like—

     “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

You’re glad your voice wasn’t shaky, and your smile sat firmly in place. You didn’t want to creep him out on the first time you met him.

Oh, but you know, deep down, that it isn’t the first time. You remember the first time like you remember falling in love for the first time. There are things you don’t forget, and there are things that you cannot forget—like the time you had your first drink or the first time you have sex or the first kiss you share with a boy you harbored a crush on for the longest time. 

And meeting Bakugou Katsuki was one such thing you simply cannot forget.

     “Don’t worry about it.” 

He sounded gruff like he didn’t even want to be there, but he didn’t mind helping people. You could see through his cold exterior rather well, almost as well as you could understand yourself. And you knew yourself quite well if you could say so.

Bakugou Katsuki was no rude or intimidating person. He, like you, only wanted to be loved the right way. Bakugou Katsuki was rough around the edges, but it was something you were willing to work with. He wasn’t too complicated, but sometimes, he’d like to think he was because then he could hide his insecurities of being terrible with people away deep inside his mind, and not let it show to just anyone who walks by. 

But you’re not just anyone. 

He’ll soon realize that. You were sure to make him see that this time, unlike the several times you’ve been wrong in the past, you were right. You were right about looking for love in Bakugou Katsuki because he was looking for it too.

The first time you met Bakugou Katsuki was not the first time he met you. Yes, it sounds strange when you read it like that, but that was how your story began. A week ago, you were trying to pick the best book from the one bookstore you knew that actually sold books from time to time, and there it was. A loud explosion that almost sent everything outside the store scattering—cars, people, name it. But, the source wasn’t a villain or anything that would normally cause such a scene, it was Bakugou Katsuki.

He ensured no one was hurt, which was remarkable in its own way, but the fiery nature he carried with himself sent your heart to the skies; there was nothing he was hiding. He wasn’t like those other heroes who smiled and was nice to every pedestrian out there. He was doing his job, and he didn’t need to be nice about it. And from the looks of it, he was doing a good job too. It took him roughly 4 minutes to catch the villain, despite the explosion, and that was the time you noticed him. 

Hi, there, your mind spoke to him as you watched him speak to the authorities. You took in his appearance, the way his hero costume sat on his shoulders; the aggression wasn’t passive, he knew what he had to do and that was attractive too because you liked men who knew exactly what they wanted. You knew of him until then but it was the first time you were seeing him in flesh. People gathered around him but kept a distance because of his reputation and you knew he liked that because, despite the loudness, Bakugou Katsuki was a private person. 

You promised yourself you were going to stay in the clear. You weren’t going to involve yourself in someone else because it isn’t good for you. Any sort of obsession is bad, you knew this to be true, but Bakugou Katsuki was inviting especially with the air he had around him. Not anyone can get through it, but you were not anyone. 

So when Bakugou Katsuki was being Bakugou Katsuki, what more could you do but love?

*

It didn’t take you long to find him on social media. He had a private account for everything, but since he was a hero he had a public hero account that he had no choice but to leave public. Despite his arrogance and nonchalance to the rules, he was a pro-hero at the end of the day, and that meant doing things like this from time to time.

You nodded to yourself a bit, swallowing the need to smile and browsed through the ten pictures he had in that account. It was all of him with children and you realized that despite being gruff he was someone who could be soft to kids if he tried. Maybe, he wasn’t in the past but he was now. Now, you jumped to Facebook and it didn’t take you long to find him there but then again, there were several fan accounts and just one public account of his hero page again. You hummed before noticing the various other public figures in his profile—the hero Deku and Shoto, who seemed close but there was one more person.

The hero Red Riot.

You knew from the media that Ground Zero and Red Riot were best friends from their school days, so now you had another lead. You used Red Riot’s public profile to look at Ground Zero; and no, this isn’t stalking, you were just harmlessly checking out the person you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with. 

And viola. 

There was just so much to see! Red Riot was a social media whore—and there was just so much he wanted to share. Bakugou Katsuki didn’t look too pleased in these pictures, but you could tell from the bottom of your heart that he loves feeling belonged and he loves his friends and the tough guy act was to initially keep unwanted people away but if you were a certain way for a very long time then it becomes who you are now. 

     “I know how that feels,” You muttered because you did know how that felt.

So, you waited. You didn’t want to rush, because you knew the best things came with a slow pace and a calm heart. Though you knew your heart was anything but calm, teaching it calmness is a gift. 

The next morning, you walked into the cafe and eyed the manager there. Your right hand was holding the flier for a new waitress and you were in need of a new job. Things were perfect. Smiling, you walked over to the manager and greeted him once.

     “You’re (l/n)?” He asked, blinking at you.

He was an old man, but he wasn’t weary. He seemed like the most active old man you’d ever laid your eyes on, but no matter. You were going to get this job, and you knew you were hired the second you walked in. All of this was just an unnecessary procedure.

     “Yes. Hello. It’s very nice to meet you!”

You were enthusiastic and didn’t push it. Things were going to go well.

     “Preppy! I like that. When can you start?”

     “I can start right away, haha!”

Oh no, too enthusiastic. You could see doubt cloud in the manager’s eye. You need to play this smart. You need to do something to get yourself out of this mess—

     “Perks of not having a job right now.” You cleared the air, and you finally could breathe again.

The manager laughed once before suggesting, “Today at 5 sound good?”

     “Five sounds great.” 

Five o clock didn’t come soon enough. You were tired of waiting outside the cafe like a stalker, which you weren’t, because you weren’t weird. You were just freshly in love and the enthusiasm was too much for your small heart to bear. If you were being a completely open book, you knew you had a glass heart. You gave too much and expected too little but even that little bit that you expected sometimes never came through. And that hurt. 

You get hurt easily not because you have such little faith in people, but merely because people intended to hurt these days. 

As soon as the clock struck 4:57, you entered the cafe. The manager noticed you, coming in early but not desperate early, and smiled to himself. It was just the first day, everyone comes early on the first day. You tossed him your best smile before getting to work. 

If your calculations were right, then in just 17 minutes, the rest of your life was going to begin.

*

Bakugou Katsuki walked into the cafe being Bakugou Katsuki and not Ground Zero. 

This was a lesser-known fact about him that most people didn’t know, except for his close friends. Red Riot, or Kirishima, and himself were at this cafe calling it “Bakugou’s second home”, which meant he came here a lot.

It was a risk you were willing to take. Who isn’t willing to take risks for love? It’s thrilling, really.

So you made your move, slowly. You were making a fresh start. You were given a clean slate and there was nothing that could hinder this progression or movement. It was going to be Bakugou Katsuki and you, in your love story, reaching a point both of you would be forever happy in. You were so elated you barely noticed someone else walk into the cafe, someone else who could be just as elated as you.

     “Katsuki-kun!”

Now, who the fuck is this?

Your eyes turned to spot the brown-haired, round-faced individual walk in and sit opposite to Bakugou, who didn’t even look irritated, to say the least. You knew who she was, but who was she to Bakugou Katsuki? You blinked a couple of times before feeling the rage build in your system. 

What the fuck was Uravity doing here? 

Wasn’t she with Deku?

Wasn’t she not interested in Bakugou Katsuki?

What the fuck was she doing here addressing your Bakugou Katsuki as “Katsuki”?

You hadn’t even reached Bakugou-kun yet!

You walked over there, carefully, a soft smile on your face—knowing exactly what to say and what to do.

     “Hi, may I take your order?”

Bakugou Katsuki’s eyes shot at you before a small hint of recognition struck his features. He wasn’t going to act on it, of course, he could be wrong, but perhaps it was the entire timing—Uravity, him not recognizing you, everything made it crash down hard.

     “An Americano for him, right Katsuki-kun?”

She even knew his order? What the fuck was going on here?

     “Stop doing that, round face. Jesus,” You felt ease at him insulting her, but it wasn’t enough, “She’s not going to have anything, she was just leaving.”

     “Oh? But we have a very good—”

     “She was leaving.” Bakugou Katsuki interrupted you, and you stopped talking right away.

You weren’t going to let anyone know how elated you really were on the inside. Uravity sighed before grumbling and stopping midway as she was leaving.

     “You know,” She turned around to give him a serious look, “I really someone figures you out.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? You gulped before turning to look at Bakugou Katsuki, wondering what had just happened and why you were so confused.

     “You,” You jumped on your spot, “Americano.”

You nodded once before rushing to get him the best Americano he had ever tasted. While you were returning with your drink, you placed it there with a small savory biscuit and that got his attention.

     “I don’t think you remember, but you saved our lives a week ago. Just a small token of my gratitude.” 

You didn’t need him to know this. He was a pro hero, there was no need for him to know.

     “Book store girl.”

You froze. Your wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

     “You didn’t even come out because of the whole hassle. Yeah, I saw you.”

He’s a hero. He had to be alert and aware of who was around. That was the only reason he knew about you. 

Six days went by, and you were slowly trying to piece together who Bakugou Katsuki was little by little. You’d leave him little savory snacks randomly and you could spot a soft change in his glum expression and notice how he’d linger longer than he would usually stay. You had more eye-contact than before and you swore you even saw him smile at you once.

When he wasn’t being a hero, he was being Bakugou Katsuki and wow, you were thrilled that he was choosing to be himself with you.

So, you decided to take it a step further. Six days was enough before you could ask him something personal right? You didn’t want to rush, but you were trying very hard to be anything but fast because you couldn’t wait to see how he felt in your hands and how his skin and hair smelled like and how it would overall feel to have love in your hands.

So, on giving him his third Americano for the evening, you plopped yourself opposite to him and smiled at him.

     “Don’t tell me you want an autograph.”

     “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Bakugou Katsuki chuckled at what you said and you swore to all the heavens you had learned language for this particular reason.

     “Just wanted to get to know you a little.”

Bakugou looked at you. Yes, he was starting to become Bakugou now, it was slowly adjusting itself in your head.

     “You sure you want that?”

You felt a bit hurt at his sentence but couldn’t help but admire how mysterious he sounded as he said it.

     “I don’t go do things I’m not sure of.”

     “Like work in a coffee shop?”

You chuckled, “This was all I’ve ever wanted.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

     “No, but really. Who are you, Bakugou Katsuki?”

He gave you another look, a softer one this time, a look you could barely discern but could spend the rest of your life trying to understand. He leaned forward and your faces were merely inches away.

     “I’m no hero, (l/n) (y/n).”

You swore you could feel your heart rate increase with the way he said it.

     “And I’m no damsel that needs saving.”

Bakugou smirked at what you said before what you knew as something very darkly sexual began between the two of you. The second you entered the cafe, you were left to wonder what Bakugou Katsuki would want to do to you later that night. The way he touched you, the way you touched him, the way he smelled and the way his skin felt when it slapped against yours, it was driving you closer and closer to insanity. 

He didn’t even have to do anything. All Bakugou had to do was sit there and be himself and you could swallow yourself wholly into whoever he was and whatever he was—it was just that easy. Bakugou Katsuki was a man who knew how to please and how to be pleasured from that pleasure and you felt no remorse for even being selfish with him.

Not that you were.

But, you couldn’t help but notice something strange. Every touch, every word that you uttered, it felt as if Bakugou knew where it was coming from and if this wasn’t a sign that it was meant to be, you didn’t know what was. 

It was one night that changed everything, however. Not that you’d know.

You and Bakugou were done for the night. Tired, but happy—wounded but whole, you were cradled into his muscular arms, naked to the very bone, but you were satisfied.

     “Baku—”

     “Katsuki.” He whispered, kissing the tip of your forehead.

You smiled to yourself, “Katsuki,” you repeated, wanting the taste of it, “I think I like you,”

What you didn’t know was he knew. 

He knew you liked him. He thought back to the time when he started heading over to the cafe you were working at, that one time with Kirishima—who obviously exaggerates everything he writes about. He thought about the fact that he told his red-headed friend that he liked the cafe, thus rendering it Bakugou’s home. He remembered that it hadn’t even been a week since Kirishima had posted that picture and yet, there you were.

There you were, now, suddenly working there.

After having seen him just once. 

Oh, if you think Bakugou Katsuki’s first time meeting you was when he handed you the scarf, then you were wrong. The first time Bakugou Katsuki met you was when you didn’t even know it. 

You had a strange habit of smelling old books right in the middle—there was something about the way the pages smelled that gave you a high. You’d smile just a bit after that, enjoying yourself a little bit publically, allowing yourself just that one gesture to please yourself. 

You licked your lips after and Bakugou wondered if they tasted just as scrumptious as they looked.

They did.

You slid some strands of your hair behind your ear and he wondered if they felt as soft if he’d pull on them as he pounds into you.

They did.

He noticed how supple your skin looked from under the light in the bookstore and wondered if they’d smell just as divine if he had you under him, begging for him to take you.

It did.

So, he knew you liked him. See, the one thing you liked about Bakugou Katsuki was that he was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

And this time, he wanted you.

[mordigen]

Wicca is a Sex Cult - you won’t change my mind. Pt 1

I have always had a since of unbelonging and curiosity my entire life. So, I’d like to believe that my ‘path’ in the craft has been eternal. But, if we are scrutinizing - I guess you could say it didn’t really begin until I was about 9-11 years olde. Can’t remember the precise age or year - just how it went, and my friends that started on that path with me. When you are olde enough to start developing your own likes and interests, olde enough to start having questions about anything and everything in the world around you - and young enough to have complete reckless abandon and lack of frontal lobe development to indulge such questions, curiosities, and probably otherwise, not the *smartest* of explorations. But boy, did we make some memories. 

But this was also the time when only the ~rich folk~ had internet in their homes, where the rest of us were reduced to the free 10 minute sessions at the public library which came with the intrusive screaming of dial-up, met with properly humiliating glares of disgust and disapproval that was just too much for a bunch of pre-teens to handle. So what other options could were we possibly left with? Well, if you had guessed the idle corners of book stores’ New Age  sections, you would be correct, friends! And what else could be found on New Age shelves in the early-mid 90s but Wicca in all it’s Llewelyn glory?? Nothing, friends. The answer is nothing, unless you hoped to find a few odd horoscopes, a token copy of the Necronomicon stashed away behind some UFO conspiracies from the O.G. David Childress & Co. But if you were looking for anything spiritual in nature beyond the status quo puritan American heritage? Nothing, friends - except Wicca. 

So, needless to say - this was my only experience at this age with anything magically or pagan inclined whatsoever. Now, I came from an immigrant family, lived in an immigrant neighborhood, went to an international school with friends of immigrant families so we were well versed in stories of other customs and cultures - but always in an intangible way. Just stories, things of fictions or long-dead ancestors which no longer exist. I personally came from a mixed-bag family, Irish Pagan, Southern Methodist, strict Catholic, Native Shamans. So religious discussions were always heated topics of animosity - so people just didn’t  talk about it, either out of spite and grudges, or just to avoid constant fights. So though I had family that participated in pagan rites, they didn’t talk about them - and they certainly weren’t teaching me anything (not yet anyhow, more on that later) So these books we perused, for hours without buying to the chagrin of the bookstore employees, were really the only introduction and information we had to go on with regards to anything spiritually related to the magical or to the pagan - and we took it as gospel, as we didn’t know any better - and I simply thought this was the modern term used today for a whole vast array of pagans and witchcraft followers. I thought it was a modern day term for a very olde religion. That is what I truly believed for years, especially with my Irish background - and the very heavy Irish influence in Gardener’s foundation of his religion, I felt like YES - I had finally found what had been calling to me for all these years. This was right, this is what I was meant to be - as a lot of the tales he recounted I had remembered being told, or reading, in my families books and stories my entire life. I recognized the names. I knew what “feast days” he was referring to - this was my blood, my heritage - and this MUST be what my family and ancestors had been following - and this MUST have been why I felt so out of place for so long : I was meant to find this.

 It was awe inspiring, it was liberating. It was exhilarating.....until it wasn’t. One day, after restocking the shelves with a new shipment, did we stumble across the works of Gardener himself. Wherein book after book, chapter after chapter, detailed the use of ‘Skyclad’ rituals and initiations through the ‘Great Rite’ and meditation through the ‘Great Rite’, and visualization through the ‘Great Rite’, and energy rising through the ‘Great Right’  and just about anything and everything through the use of the ‘Great Rite’ or some incarnation thereof. In the particular books that we read, there were even specific instructions on how to handle ritual situations involving young children and minors, with or without parental involvement, and the importance of secrecy.  

This should be a red flag to anyone with a brain cell. 

But, for some reason, it wasn’t. My friends ate it up - the fact that they were being referred to, and treated, as adults and equals. What is more enticing to a bunch of hormonal preteens/teens who are certain they know everything, than to be treated as the adults they are very certain they absolutely are?  We even had intent debates and discussions with each other where we defended that it was completely respectable and not at all inappropriate. We hung on the language they used as proof that, see, they are not creeps - it is at our discretion, and intimacy level. Using words to be extremely specific about consent, and age, and detailing liaisons between mentors/students and members/High Priest(ess)es to not take place until they are of age and to be very mindful of that at all times. It felt all sorts of wrong to me at the time, but I was in complete denial - it just felt uncomfortable because it was new to me. We made arguments that our very strict, closed-minded Christian influence was why it felt uncomfortable. 

As a now wizened adult, not only is this “language” and position the very same argument pedophiles use to skirt the law and rationalize their actions as simple fantasies and free speech, but there is the bigger issue of the “secrecy”. Officially, on record, they are pillars of responsibility and advocates or legal boundaries and sensitivity -- but behind closed doors, don’t ask, don’t tell. Whilst making a not-so-subtle point to acknowledge all the legal boundaries, in the same breath they advocate the freewill, and consent of the member - regardless of age. Making the not so intuitive leap to assume that age is an afterthought if the member should be a willing participant. Nonevermind to the impressionable mind and intimidation or persuasion a younger member may be susceptible to - if they agree, then whose to stop them? Using the guise of secrecy as an underlying tenet of the faith. They aren’t “hiding” anything if their rites and rituals and teachings are just an understood secret knowledge only bestowed upon the most worthy individuals - or even that they are protecting the sanctity of such important rites by not publicly discussing them all willy-nilly. Nor do they bat an eye on the fact that presenting these rites and secrecy in such a prestigious manner would lead a younger audience even more inclined to actively participate, AND more inclined to also stayed shut-lipped about it -- as why wouldn’t they?? They are special. They are the chosen ones. They aren’t like everyone else - not just ANYONE would be allowed this opportunity. These are classic grooming techniques, that you can find examples of in the cases of sex offenders and sexual predators all over the world, let alone key tenets seen in nearly every other publicly recognized sex cults - so why is Wicca the exception?

What bothers me more looking back at these discussions we had is that they were completely unprovoked -- nobody had challenged us, nobody had warned us that this sounds fucked up - no one had ever tried to stop us or steer us away.  This was just our knee-jerk topic of discussion and reaction to what we CHOSE to follow. We knew from the get-go that there was something shady going on, our gut and our subconscious was screaming at us to not be those dumb little girls....and we were desperately trying to rationalize it to ourselves without realizing that’s exactly what we were doing. And our rationalized denial won - for a while, at least. 

I started straying more and more from that path ever since that day. But, as this was all I had at my disposal to build my world on, I only strayed so far. Other paths still seemed like the works of myth and legend - not “real” beliefs - so I stayed the course, just tended to keep my mouth shut and smiled and nodded when such debates continued on amongst friends. Eventually, several of my friends found local covens to join. They were sweet, and innocent. They opened up certain meetings and classes to new members as a sort of “tiral” phase - to see if it were a right fit. One of my friends in particular went to many of these. She came back with all these fantastic stories and experiences. Learned so many cool new things, and was really growing and developing and learning in the craft. She now had her very own mentor, and I found myself seething in envy. They were all growing and flourishing, and I was left in the dark with my nose stuck in books just dabbling. So I gave in, and went to some meetings with her. They were innocent and informative enough - meditation lessons, a fun Ostara celebration. Sermons on the Summerland and origin stories, God-specific lessons so we could learn all the various pantheon and what they represented. Workshops on creating candle spells, and how to properly sage and cleanse a space. We did yoga. We danced, we played instruments and tries to get into a trance-state. We had potlucks. It was fun.  And so we decided to join.....

(...continued)

[arrantsnowdrop]

A Dangerous Game - Chapter 1 (Theseus Scamander x OC series)

Prologue

Summary: When Victoire McKinnon, one of the wizarding world's most proficient curse-breakers, is asked to assist and protect the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department in their crusade against Grindelwald, she finds herself stuck working with the extremely annoying, exceptionally good looking Theseus Scamander.

Warnings: swearing, kinda mature themes (Grindelwald kills people so mentions of death), 2466 words

..........

It was a rainy morning in London. Victoire had found a small cafe nestled between a bookstore and an antique shop, and there she sat, watching the heavy downpour out of the large front window. The pastry in front of her lay mostly untouched, but the two white mugs that had been filled with coffee were empty. She needed to be alert, despite how early it was and how little sleep he had gotten.

Her meeting with Torquil Travers was at eight, and the old clock on the wall read seven thirty. She had been up ever since Griphook had summoned her to his office at five in the morning (on her first day of vacation, no less), and her anxiety had been steadily rising since.

She hated that she was nervous. This was far from her first visit to the Ministry of Magic; her father had been the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and she had visited him at work every Saturday with her mom and brothers until she had started school at Hogwarts. Her oldest brother, Emrys, now worked there as well, fulfilling some position in the Department of Mysteries that he had been told not to disclose.

In more recent years, Victoire found herself attending a multitude Ministry events, including galas to raise funds for advanced equipment and research, and countless meetings to seek approval for more risqué assignments. Though Gringotts and the Ministry worked separately, having their support in more controversial endeavors guaranteed less backlash from the public.

However, the situation at hand was odd to say the least. 

Travers, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had requested an experienced curse-breaker from Gringotts to aid the Aurors in their crusade against Grindelwald. Gringotts curse-breakers hardly ever worked in coalition with any Ministry workers, especially not the Aurors (there was a bit of an unspoken rivalry between the two parties). Victoire knew Travers usually had too much pride to ask for help outside his department, much less a completely different organization, so she figured something pretty bad must have happened for him to seek assistance.

That’s what made her nervous, really; she didn’t know how bad the situation was, or who she was working with. The lack of information was putting her on edge. She did know that about a week ago, a few aurors had gone missing after they had miscalculated how dangerous the situation was, but that alone was not enough to justify Travers’ request. There had to be more.

Still, Griphook had assured her the assignment wouldn’t last more than two or three weeks, and that the vacation she was supposed to be on would be extended for another week afterwards.

A low rumble of thunder snapped her out of her thoughts, and she glanced at the clock again. Seven forty five, not too early to head over to the Ministry.

She pushed herself out of her chair and brushed a few stray crumbs off of her skirt, leaving a tip on the table and stuffing the croissant in her pocket for later.

“Thank you for the breakfast!” she called to the barista, waving goodbye as she walked out of the front door and into the rain.

She groaned, quickly realizing that the coat she had grabbed this morning was not one of her waterproofed wardrobe pieces, and that there were far too many people walking around her to even think of casting a spell without someone noticing. She figured she would deal with her wet clothes once in the Ministry, and quickly took off down the sidewalk.

The rain only seemed to pick up as she got closer and closer to the phone booth at the end of the street. She squeaked at a rather loud clap of thunder and practically jumped into the booth, slamming the door behind her to shut out the rain and dialing 6-2-4-4-2 rather hastily.

“Good morning! Is it still raining up there?” the welcome witch asked warmly.

“Yes, cats and dogs,” Victoire replied, whipping out her wand and quickly drying herself off.

“That can’t be fun. Please state your name and reason for visiting us today.”

“My name is Victoire McKinnon, I have a meeting with Torquil Travers at eight.”

“The Victoire McKinnon? Curse-breaker Victoire McKinnon?” the witch asked earnestly.

“That’s the one,” she said uncomfortably.

“It’s an honor to meet you miss, I keep up with all your work in the Daily Prophet!”

“Thank you so much! I’d really love to talk about it all but I do have somewhere I need to be,” Victoire said.

“Oh yes, sorry! Sending you down right away miss!” came the eager response as the floor began to descend into the ground.

“Thank you,” Victoire replied, rubbing her hands together nervously.

The one downside of being one of the most well-known curse-breakers of the century was the fact that she could go nowhere in the wizarding world without someone noticing her and getting all flabbergasted. Of course she adored the people who read all of her research, but when they acted like she was some famous witch, she couldn’t help but feel quite awkward.

The lift slowed down and then stopped, and the doors in front of her opened with a soft “ping.”

She stepped out onto the wooden floors of the atrium, weaving through a group of tourists before catching sight of Travers standing next to the statue of some old wizard.

“Victoire!” he called, waving her over with a grin on his face.

Most people thought Torquil Travers was intimidating at best, and terribly harsh and dictating at worst, but he had been close friends with Victoire’s father and was almost like an uncle to her.

“Hi Mister Travers,” she replied, smiling as he wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’m very glad you came,” he stated.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?” she sassed, stepping back and crossing her arms across her chest.

“Oh come on now, you can’t be that upset to see me?” Travers teased, beginning to walk across the floor towards the lifts on the other side. Victoire rolled her eyes.

“I wish the circumstances of this visit were a bit different, that’s all.”

Torquil sighed and nodded seriously.

“Me too, Victoire. You know I wouldn’t have asked for you to help if the situation wasn’t desperate.”

“I know, Mister Travers,” Victoire assured, following him into a lift while he pressed the level two button.

“Did you change the ceiling? The blue looks different,” she said, her eyes drifting to the top of the atrium.

“I didn’t do anything, for all I know the ceiling changes color,” Travers replied, laughing as the lift began to move.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was, in Victoire’s opinion, perhaps the most dismal looking floor of the whole Ministry of Magic. She followed behind Travers through a sad looking hallway with worn blue carpets and walls that were practically begging to be redone.

“Have you ever considered adding a little color around here?” she asked as they walked past a pair of double doors leading into the Auror Headquarters.

Travers shot her a glare as he walked into a room across the hall.

“Close the door behind you,” he called, picking a set of papers off of his desk and straightening them out while he sat down.

Victoire obliged, shutting the heavy set door and taking a seat on the other side of his desk.

“I knew they were going to send you,” he started. “You’re one of the best witches of the century and your skills in both curse-breaking and defensive wizardry are unparalleled.”

“Well, uh, thank you sir-”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident we had last week?” he inquired. Victoire nodded.

“Griphook told me, have you found the three aurors who went missing?”

Travers shook his head, handing her the stack of papers he had been sorting.

“This is a report on that and three other situations of similar consequence. All four have taken place within the last two months, and collectively have resulted in 14 aurors either dying or going missing.”

Victoire bit her lip, skimming through the summaries of each report.

“This is a problem,” she said finally, looking up at Travers. He nodded.

“I’m quite aware. That’s why I need you to prevent this sort of thing from

happening. I can’t fight Grindelwald if all my Aurors are gone,” he said.

“Do you have any sort of exact job description I could see? I just want to know what my specific role is in all of this,” she said, gesturing towards the papers in her hand.

Travers nodded, pulling yet another paper off of his desk and handing it to her.

“I’m going to pair you up with one of my head aurors,” he said. “You’re going to accompany him to all of his cases related to the crimes of Grindelwald and his followers, and make sure they’re not rushing into any traps.”

Victoire nodded, “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Travers said, “I have a feeling that European houses with relatively newer curses are easier to detect than what’s in your typical field of work.” Victoire chuckled, and Travers gestured back to the packet of papers in her hand.

“And in your spare time, I wouldn’t mind if you could figure out what’s happened to the aurors who have gone missing. It’s getting hard to explain to their families that I have absolutely no idea. Even some sort of closure would be better than what they have now,” he said somberly.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Victoire said.

“I know you won’t, Victoire,” he said, standing up. “You start tomorrow, but while you’re here I want to introduce you to the fellow you’ll be working with.”

Victoire followed Travers out of his office and back into the main hall, then further down and away from the lift and the Auror Headquarters.

“This is where all the Head Auror offices are,” Travers clarified, as if he could sense her confusion.

“Ah, so I’m working with a Head Auror?”

“Yes, one of the best,” Travers said, stopping outside one of the many wooden doors and knocking it twice with the back of his hand before entering.

“Theseus, do you have a minute?” Travers asked. Victoire peered into the tidy looking office. It was smaller than Travers’, with shelves against nearly every wall, filled to the top with books and file folders.

“Of course, sir,” came the voice of the young man sitting behind the desk. She watched as he stood up quickly, gaze flicking over his neat suit and tall figure and tousled brown hair. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Victoire, this is Theseus Scamander, Head Auror and expert Dark Wizard Catcher,” Travers said, gesturing to the young man.

Victoire sucked in a breath. She did know who Theseus was.

“Theseus, this is Victoire McKinnon, the Gringotts curse-breaker behind their extensive research in Japan and Africa.”

This was the guy who called curse-breakers “glorified history nerds on a scavenger hunt without a purpose” during an interview with the Daily Prophet once.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss McKinnon,” Theseus said smoothly, sticking his hand out for her to shake with a smile plastered on his face.

The comment had stung a little.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” she said coldly, keeping her arms at her side.

“Theseus, you and Victoire are going to be temporary partners on your Grindelwald cases, her purpose being to keep you and your team safe from any curses or traps,” Travers said, completely oblivious to the emerging tension in the room.

“With all due respect sir, I don’t think we need protecting,” Theseus said, turning to Travers with a look of distaste.

Victoire scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Theseus, too many Aurors have gone missing for us to keep doing things the same way we have been,” Travers said sternly.

“But sir-”

“I am not going to risk any more of my staff because you can’t bring yourself to admit you could use help. If I can do it, there’s no reason why you can’t,” the older man finished, clapping his hands together as if to conclude his thought.

Victoire smirked, finding it hard to not laugh when Theseus glared at her.

“Well, I’ll leave you two so you can get acquainted. Victoire will be joining you in the field tomorrow, and I expect you will get along just fine,” Travers said, looking at Victoire expectantly.

“Oh yes, sir, I’ll be on my best behavior,” she said with a curt nod of her head. Travers rolled his eyes.

“Tell your father I say hi, alright?” he asked, bidding farewell once more before walking out of Theseus’s office and closing the door behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the ticking of a clock somewhere on Theseus’ desk.

It was a rather dark looking office. There was definitely light coming from somewhere, but it seemed faint, and there were no windows. It wasn’t like Griphook’s office, which was dark but very aesthetically pleasing; it was simply dark and boring.

“Well, this should be an interesting couple of weeks,” Theseus mumbled, breaking the silence.

Victoire turned on her heel sharply and glared at him.

“Are you always this negative?” she asked crossly. Theseus looked at her in disbelief.

“Are you always such a know-it-all?” he retorted, grabbing a piece of blank parchment from a drawer and setting it on top of his desk.

“Listen, I’m just as annoyed about this arrangement as you are, but you could at least pretend you weren’t completely disgusted by the prospect of working with me,” she said dryly.

“Oh no, am I hurting your feelings, sweetheart?” Theseus mocked, sitting down on his desk and pouting at you. She rolled your eyes.

“You wish,” she grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that he was still taller than she was sitting down.

“Are you even any good at your job?” Theseus asked offhandedly. “I don’t want to die because you don't know what you’re doing.”

Victoire gaped at him, struggling to form a response.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” Theseus asked chuckling.

“Fuck off,” she spat, turning around and walking towards the door.

“I’m hurt, Miss McKinnon, I really am,” Theseus said sarcastically, sitting down behind his desk and pulling his quill out of the ink pot.

“Are you going to be this rude tomorrow, Mister Scamander?” Victoire asked dryly as she opened the door.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Theseus shrugged, diverting his attention to the paper in front of him.

Victoire groaned and slammed the door behind her, already looking forward to the end of this stupid coalition.

..........

[A/N: I'M BACK Y'ALL!!! This literally took like months to write bc of school and then summer was distracting, but I'm back and ready for consistent posts and more fics and all the fun stuff. Shoutout to @littleyellowladybugg for being a goddess and proofreading this for me (follow her plz she's amazing). If you like this, drop a like or comment or reblog! I love feedback! Also I'm thinking abt making a tag list for this so if you're interested message me or something :) thanks loves, hope you like/liked this!]

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 17

Hello my lovelies! I hope you are all doing well. This chapter took me awhile to write, but at last, it is finished and I’m not sharing it with y’all. This chapter would not have happened without four important people in my life: @nomadicpixel @mycapt-ohcapt @heather-lynn (thanks for the title, yo!) and @alievans007. They constantly encourage me and sometimes give me a kick in the butt when I need it.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in March 2014, specifically the week of the Los Angeles premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 16.5

Episode 17: Unofficial Plus One

March 2014

Chris was unusually quiet and reserved during the first two days he was back from his seclusion. Ellie would have worried about it if he hadn't spoken to her candidly about similar situations in the past. He'd explained that sometimes in order to process everything going on around him, or even within his own brain, he needed to take a step back and distance himself from the situation, even if only mentally.

Knowing that how his brother could be, Scott, had assured her on the morning of the third day that Chris would snap out of it soon and be as good as new.

Sure enough, that afternoon, Ellie was in the office finishing up a video chat with a prospective new author when Chris appeared in the doorway. She gave him a smile before she redirected her attention to the person she was talking to. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chris taking in the changes she'd made to the room; namely the fact that she had stolen one of the arm chairs from his bedroom.

After saying goodbye, Ellie closed the chat window and then turned her attention to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied before nodding his head towards the chair. "That looks good in here."

"You said I could make it my own," she replied with a small shrug. "And this room gets amazing afternoon light and I can only sit in this computer chair for so long. Not to mention the chair was free and easy to move." Chris raised his eyebrow at the idea that she'd moved the chair by herself. "Ok, so I might have bribed your brother to help me."

"That's more like it," Chris said with a chuckle before turning serious. "Sorry I've been in a -"

"You don't need to apologize," she quickly cut him off. "You warned me that sometimes you need your space and I get it. I'm the exact same way, especially after I've been at the coast with my family and all of us in a very small space."

A small smile spread across his face and Ellie couldn't help but get out of the computer chair and go to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. His arms closed around her and he held her close to him.

The fact of the matter was, even after spending two weeks alone with his thoughts, Chris still wasn't sure what the future held for himself and Ellie. Until he knew that, he couldn't make a commitment to her. He'd spent the last two days keeping himself away from her in hopes that the answer would magically come to him, but the only thing he'd figured out was that he missed spending time with her. That, in itself, was an answer of sorts. He figured that, for now, it was answer enough.

While Chris had been away, Ellie had worked with his mom to figure out just how many people could logically stay in the house when his family and friends came to Los Angeles for the premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Logically, they knew that there was a limit, but Chris was notorious for telling anyone who asked that they could stay at the house. With help from his management company, they had located a couple of houses nearby to rent for the week, in order to lessen the number of people sleeping on the floor or sharing beds.

Even with the additional housing, they'd known that there were people that Chris absolutely wouldn't let stay anywhere else. Which was why Ellie would be sharing her guesthouse with Shanna. His mom would take one of the guestrooms, Chris's friend Tara and her husband would take the other guestroom, and his sister Carly and her family would take Chris's bedroom. Which left Chris and Scott on air mattresses in the office and numerous other people camped out on couches and air mattresses on the main floor of the house and in the basement.

With Chris seemingly back to normal and knowing that a lot of people were coming for the premiere, Chris and Ellie spent as much time as they could together during the week that followed. With Scott making himself thoughtfully scarce despite still living with them, they had their sexy times, but spent most of their time together clothed and out of the bedroom. With projects on both of their radars, movies for him and editing for her, they often sat quietly together working and, occasionally, taking makeout breaks before returning to their tasks.

It was after one of these makeout sessions that Chris asked Ellie if she wanted to go to the premiere. He'd been trying to figure out how to ask her since he'd gotten back, but hadn't been sure how to address it. They'd already agreed, before he'd gone on his trip, that they weren't ready to let everyone know they were together, but he wanted her to be there if only as a friend. Going with that notion, he didn't let her say no before he said:

"I want you to be there. At the end of the day, you're one of my friends and it would be weird for you to miss it," he explained. "You wouldn't have to walk the red carpet or even be seen with myself or my family. I would send you and your friend with my former roommates and their wives, safety in numbers, right?"

"How can I say no to such a well thought out request like that?" she replied with a smile. She had secretly been hoping that he would invite her, but she hadn't wanted to press the issue so early on in their relationship. She was relieved that she wouldn't have to walk the red carpet with him, something that she hadn't even thought of when she'd been mentally preparing herself for the event. She'd already scheduled the day off at the bookstore, just in case, and now all she had to do was figure out what to wear. "So, what does one wear to a premiere?"

"Something dressy that won't keep you from dancing at the after party?" he suggested with a shrug.

"The after party? Isn't that where you guys go to let your hair down and get drunk away from the public eye?" she teased, tilting her head. In all honesty, she had no clue what happened at any Hollywood parties.

"And visit with our family and friends that get the invite to said party. We can talk about it more later, if you want to," he replied, his voice trailing off as his eyes dropped to her still swollen lips. In a lower tone, he said, "but right now, I think I'm done working for the night."

Ellie gave him a knowing look before she pushed him back against the couch cushions and pressed her lips against his. They had worked enough for tonight.

Eventually, they made it to the guest house for one last night together before everyone started to arrive. Chris stayed with Ellie for a while after, but when the alarm went off on his phone, he kissed her forehead and got up. He pulled on his boxers and gathered his clothes before making his way back to the big house and his bedroom. His mom and his best friend Tara would be arriving sometime before noon and he didn't want to risk being caught in Ellie's bed or be seen sneaking back to his own.

----

Ellie chewed on the end of her pen as she studied the rough arrival notes for Chris's family and friends. His mom and his friend Tara were due to arrive at any time. The rest of his family was arriving tomorrow and most of his friends, including Tara's husband, would be here on Monday, which was the night they'd planned a large get together at the house.

Flipping to that page in her notebook, Ellie quickly counted the number of guests, again. It was up to fifty people now, after the text she'd gotten from Chris's mom last night. The good news was that she and Tanya Kelley, the wife of Chris's friend who had catered the Super Bowl party, had counted on 75 people being at the party so their numbers were still ok.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up to find Scott in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Mom and Tara just got here," he told her. "Come on."

Setting her pen down, Ellie took a moment to adjust her clothes and her hair before she followed Scott at a much slower pace. She had heard all about Tara from Chris and Scott and was nervous about what the woman would think of her. She knew she was special to Chris, but she also knew that Chris considered Tara his best friend and Scott held the woman in a similar esteem.

By the time Ellie got to the front door, Chris and Scott were pulling suitcases out of the hired car while their mom and Tara, she assumed, made their way to the house.

"There you are, Ellie!" Lisa Evans exclaimed with a smile as they entered the house.

Ellie returned the smile and gave the woman a hug. There was something about Lisa's embrace that put Ellie at ease and she felt her anxiety over Tara vanish almost immediately.

Upon letting go of Ellie, Lisa seemed to recall that she and Tara didn't know each other. She made the introductions as Chris and Scott came into the house with the suitcases.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Tara said, shaking Ellie's hand. "I've heard so much about you."

"It's nice to meet you as well," Ellie replied. "Chris and Scott both rave about you."

"I wouldn't believe half of what those two say," Tara muttered conspiratorially and Ellie couldn't help but laugh as the brothers protested.

"I've learned that," Ellie said with a sidelong glance at Chris as he and Scott carried the suitcases up the stairs. "Full of hot air the both of them."

Tara snickered beside her.

"I can see you two are going to get along just fine," Lisa said with a smile. "Just don't be too mean to my boys. Sensitive egos and all that."

"MA!" Chris and Scott shouted from upstairs.

Still giggling, Ellie led Lisa and Tara into the kitchen and brought them up to speed on the arrival plans and the catered dinner.

"We've been doing events like this for years and it has never been this easy," Lisa said, shaking her head in amazement. "And it's all because of you."

Ellie felt her face flush, but shrugged off the comment. "You gave me all the information and I just made it happen," she replied as she heard the alarm go off on her phone. "I've gotta go to work. I'll see you guys later."

"You're going to dinner with us, right?" Tara asked.

"No, I won't get off work in time," Ellie replied as she grabbed her purse. "I'll grab something on my way home." She passed Scott as he came into the kitchen and found Chris waiting for her by the front door.

"Have a good day," he said with a smile.

"Oh, Chris, I'm glad I caught you both," Tara's voice came from behind them before Ellie could reply to him, causing them to both turn. "We should get a to go meal for Ellie that way she doesn't have to stop on her way home."

"It's not a problem," Ellie said at the same time Chris said, "That's a good idea."

Ellie looked up at Chris and saw that he was giving her his 'I'm not backing down from this' look and sighed. "You know what I like," she said simply. Then she gave him and Tara a small wave before she slipped out the front door.

It took Chris a moment or two longer than it should have before he closed the front door, Tara noticed, and when he finally turned around, he blinked in a manner that suggested that he had forgotten she was standing behind him. Curiosity peaked, Tara made a mental note to watch the two of them while she was in town.

----

For Ellie, the majority of Sunday was spent going between Chris's house and the two rental houses. First thing in the morning, she, Tara and Lisa went to the other houses to make sure that everything was ready for company. Then they went to the grocery store to stock up on the basics for the people that were staying in those places. Chris's dad's family would be staying in the smaller of the two rentals while his friends with kids and their wives would be staying in the second.

Once the other houses were good to go, they returned to Chris's house to act as the official welcoming committee and direct people to where they were staying. For those staying at the other two houses, they were shuttled there, while those who were staying at Chris's house were assigned a spot to put their luggage.

With so many people coming and going, Ellie had planned an easy taco bar style dinner. It meant that people could fix themselves whatever they wanted and heat it up as they so desired.

"You're used to big groups coming and going?" Tara said conversationally as she helped Ellie replenish the empty containers.

"Definitely," Ellie replied and then found herself unable to not explain. "I've got three sisters, but my parents each have four siblings. And my dad is really close with his cousins and their kids. We spend a week in August at the coast together. We used to be able to fit in the cabins my grandparents and my grandma's sister purchased in the 1970s, but we've outgrown them and have to rent additional cabins to have enough places to sleep. But even then, there are usually five or six tents set up for people to sleep in."

"Sounds like a lot of fun," Tara said. "So tomorrow shouldn't phase you at all then?"

"Honestly, I'm a little nervous about tomorrow," Ellie confessed as she glanced towards the dining room that was full of people. "I've met a lot of people today and I know I didn't get all their names and I know more people are coming to the party tomorrow night and -"

"Relax," Tara said with a smile. "We'll be here and so will Chris's buddies, the Frat Boys."

"The Frat Boys?" Ellie asked, confused. "You mean his old roommates?"

"One and the same," Tara replied with a grin. "You've met them, right?"

"Yes I have," Ellie said with a nod. "Many times. I've gotten some fun stories from them…"

"I have even more," Tara said with a grin as she saw Chris come into the room with his brother.

Chris froze as he saw the smirk on Tara's face and then an amused smile on Ellie's. He glanced at his brother who just grinned wickedly before continuing into the room. "What's going on?" he asked Ellie.

"Nothing," she replied with an all too innocently look.

Turning his attention to Tara, he leveled her a menacing look and said, "No storytelling."

"You ruin all my fun," Tara pouted as she crossed her arms.

"Someone has to," Chris replied before winking at Ellie. Hearing his name called from the other room, he nodded at both women and then walked away.

After making sure Tara was busy, Ellie let her eyes follow Chris as he headed towards the dining room. He was wearing her favorite pair of jeans and she didn't think it was on accident. He knew exactly what she thought of those jeans and the way they hugged his ass.

Next to her, Tara cleared her throat and asked, "Are there more taco shells?"

"Taco shells?" Ellie repeated confused at first. Then her mind snapped back into place and she nodded. "In the cupboard next to the fridge. Second shelf."

Ellie was practically dead on her feet by the time she retired to the guesthouse for the night around 10. She'd stuck around for an hour to play charades with the others, but the craziness of the day had caught up to her eventually and she had made her excuses.

By the time Ellie was out of the shower, Shanna had come to the guest house and Ellie helped her blow up the air mattress she was sleeping on. Then, while Shanna showered, Ellie got into bed and read while she waited for Shanna to come back out and turn out the lights.

Hearing her phone ding from an incoming text, Ellie grabbed her phone and smiled when she saw she had a message from Chris:

Set an alarm for 5:45

Her smile fell from her face as she read his message and she replied:

As in the morning?!

Chris replied immediately:

Yes. I want to see you before I leave for the day.

Just come outside the guesthouse and I'll meet you there.

I promise it will be worth your time.

Ellie couldn't help but smile at his rapid fire responses.

I'll be the judge of that, but yes, I'll set an alarm.

Chris's final reply was a thumbs up emoji and a simple "see you in the morning."

----

At 5:45 the next morning, Ellie was cursing Chris under her breath as she forced herself out of her bed.

"What's going on?" Shanna mumbled from the air mattress she was sleeping on.

"I've got to let Daisy out," Ellie replied. "Go back to sleep."

Shanna mumbled something but promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

Confident that Shanna wouldn't check to see if Daisy was there or not, Ellie left the sleeping dog on the bed and pulled on the sweatpants, sweatshirt and flip flops that she had set out after getting Chris's text. She carefully made her way past Chris's sleeping sister and let herself out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

When she turned, Chris was making his way towards her with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Is that for me?" she asked.

"I told you I'd make it worth your time," he replied as he held the steaming cup out to her.

She took a sip and sighed contently. He'd doctored it just the way she liked it, which was way sweeter than he liked it.

"Is it worth your while yet?" he asked as he took the cup when she offered it back to him.

"Not quite," she replied, letting her voice trail off. She wanted to suggest a good morning kiss, but they could be caught at any moment. And then she remembered that it was 5:45 in the morning and no one in their right mind would be up yet.

Her eyes met his and he gave his head a slight nod before he leaned in to kiss her.

Though she could smell trace amounts of coffee and something that smelled like maple syrup on him, he tasted minty fresh. She rose to her tiptoes as she held onto him, wanting the kiss to continue, but knowing it couldn't.

It was a text from the car service that brought the kiss to an end, a moment later.

"Fuck, I've gotta go," he grumbled. "I'll see you tonight." He gave her another short peck on the lips before he turned, coffee cup in hand, and made his way back to the big house.

Ellie watched him until he disappeared from sight and then quietly slipped back into the guesthouse. She made her way back to bed and slipped back under the covers after kicking off her shoes. Closing her eyes, she fell back to sleep with the feeling of Chris's lips still against hers.

With Chris's mom taking care of breakfast and getting people out the door for various activities, Ellie slept in until eight when Daisy's whimpering woke her up.

As she let the dog outside, she noticed that Shanna was already up and gone. It wasn't until she and Daisy made their way to the big house for breakfast that she recalled Scott mentioning that they were going to Disneyland today with some of their dad's family. Many of Chris's guests had opted to do the typical touristy things during the days leading up to Thursday's premiere, which meant the house was nearly empty.

Arriving in the kitchen, Ellie filled Daisy's water and food bowls and then fixed herself a bowl of cereal. She was almost finished with it when Lisa and Tara came into the room.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lisa said with a smile. "Chris told me last night that you're coming with us to the premiere."

"He invited me Friday night," Ellie replied after swallowing the last bite. "My cousin Phoenix and I will be going with the Frat Boys and their wives."

"That will be a fun group," Tara said with a grin. "Chris also mentioned that you had never been to a premiere and that you weren't sure what to wear to it."

"I've got some stuff but nothing that seems right for a movie premiere," Ellie confirmed.

"Come shopping with us then," Tara told her. "There's nothing for us to do here until this afternoon when the party rental place gets here with the extra tables and chairs."

"Alright," Ellie replied since she didn't have a good reason to say no. Tara was right, there was nothing to do but sit around and wait.

Five hours later, she was thankful to be back home. With Tara and Lisa's help, she'd found a simple, black cocktail dress to wear to the premiere with a pair of teal heels to wear with it. It had taken them four hours to do their shopping, with both Lisa and Tara finding dresses to wear as well, and then Lisa had treated them to lunch.

After depositing her outfit in the guesthouse, Ellie switched into party setup mode. The weather was in the 70s which meant that everyone from the east coast would likely want to sit outside while everyone from California would likely want to sit inside where it was warm. There would be mingling between the two groups, Ellie knew, but it made it easier to arrange the rented tables and chairs on the decks and grass in the backyard. By the time Tanya arrived with her catering staff, everything was ready to go and Ellie gladly let them take over the kitchen.

With Chris due back around seven, people started returning to the house around six and other people started to arrive around 6:30. Ellie was talking to one of Chris's many cousins when she felt her gaze pulled towards the front door where Chris had just entered. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, but dimmed briefly when she saw his face shift as he tried to hide how tired he was from a day of dealing with press.

The decision to throw the party tonight or another night had been heavily debated, but the decision had been Chris's ultimately. He'd reasoned that he was going to be exhausted by Thursday and that it was better to have the party earlier in the week than later because of how drained he would be.

As she watched him greet friends that had come to the party, she spotted his mom making her way towards him with a hot cup of tea. After a long day of talking to reporters, she knew that was exactly what his strained voice would need before spending an evening talking to family and friends.

Across the room, Chris gladly accepted the cup of tea from his mom and gave her a one armed hug in thanks. He took a sip of the hot liquid and felt its soothing embrace as it slid down the back of his throat. Seeing that his friend had started a conversation with someone else, he took a moment to survey the group that had gathered. Then he felt his stomach flip at the sight of his younger sister leading their dad towards Ellie. He watched with a twinge of jealousy as Shanna introduced the two, wishing that he could be the one to introduce them.

Sighing, Chris looked away from them and found Tara looking at him with an odd expression on her face. He gave her a questioning look in response and she just shook her head and smiled, playing off the look as nothing. She then nodded her head towards the kitchen and mouthed that dinner was ready.

With a nod, Chris turned back towards the group and whistled loudly. There were chuckles as the crowd both inside and outside, on the patio off the living room, quieted.

"Before we eat, I just want to thank you all for coming and give an extra thank you to Ellie, Tanya, my mom and Tara for making this party happen. Now, Ellie is going to tell us how to go about getting food," he said loudly.

Ellie blinked in surprise at being singled out, but recovered quickly. "There are two buffet stations setup, one in the formal dining room and one outside by the pool deck. There is a lot of food, so please eat as much as you want so we don't have a lot of leftovers to try and fit into the fridge." That comment got her several chuckles. "And with that, go get yourself some food and find a place to visit."

In the end, they still had a lot of food leftover. Even after sending food to the other houses and home with people who lived in the Los Angeles area. It all worked out, however, because it meant that people could reheat the leftovers on Tuesday and Wednesday as they desired.

Unlike Monday, the next two days were pretty low key. Most of the guests spent the day out exploring and very few people who weren't staying at the house came over in the evening when Chris returned from his press duties.

Despite how tired he was both nights, Chris hadn't been able to turn down the invitation to play games with his family members and they had all badgered Ellie until she'd agreed to play, too. When it was all said and done, Ellie had to admit she'd had a great time playing the games even though it made her a little homesick as Chris's family reminded her so much of her own.

----

The morning of the premiere started much like the days before. Chris left the house early to take care of promotional stuff and everyone had breakfast at the house before leaving for whatever they had planned for the morning and early afternoon.

Ellie had planned on spending the morning relaxing before getting ready for the premiere in the afternoon, but a text from Chris changed all that.

Scheduled a surprise for you. Be showered and in the big house by noon.

He didn't reply to her attempts to get more information from him, so she went up to the big house in hopes someone else could shed some light onto the situation. She found Chris's mom, sisters and Tara in the kitchen discussing similar texts they'd all received from Chris, too, and they were all as lost as she was.

In the end, it wasn't until noon when a hair and makeup team showed up at the house, that they finally found out what Chris had planned for them. A few hours of pampering before the premiere. He'd thrown in one additional surprise for Ellie though, in the form of Gus, the hair stylist from Ray and Kady's wedding the summer before.

Much like their first interaction, Gus took one look at Ellie's hair and let out a long breath. "We've got some work to do," he said.

In no time at all, the kitchen and breakfast nook were converted to a makeshift salon with hair, makeup, pedicure and manicure stations setup to take care of them all while they sipped mimosas. And, three hours later, all five ladies were ready for the premiere, save for being in their outfits for the occasion.

Shanna and Ellie went down to the guesthouse and quickly realized that they needed each other's help to get changed without messing up their hair or makeup. After a lot of cursing and nearly pissing themselves with laughter, they finally managed to get out of their street clothes and into their outfits for the premiere before making their way back to the big house. As Lisa had instructed the night before, everyone going to the premiere was gathering in the living room while they waited for the hired cars to arrive.

Ellie's cousin Phoenix arrived a few minutes before the limo and the party bus. The limo was for Chris's mom, sisters, Tara and anyone else who was walking the red carpet with him. Ellie, Phoenix and the other guests would be riding in the party bus that would drop them off away from the red carpet entrance and they'd entered behind the scenes.

As it was her and Phoenix's first time at a movie premiere, they followed the others off the bus and got into line with the other people waiting to get into the theater via the private entrance. The line was hidden from the view of the fans and press that had gathered around the red carpet, but they could still hear the screams.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," Phoenix said, raising her voice to be heard.

"I haven't heard a crowd like this since I saw Hanson in concert as a teenager," Ellie said with a laugh.

"Ah the memories," Phoenix said with a sigh.

It wasn't until the cousins had made it to their reserved seats within the large auditorium that they found Chris's former roommates and their wives. They visited as they waited for the rest of the audience to come in and for the event to start.

The cast, director and Marvel executives were the last to come in and there were a couple of speeches before the movie started. There was an excited cheer as the room darkened and the movie began to play.

Ellie had worried that she would just see Chris on the screen, but she quickly lost herself in the movie and forgot that Captain America was played by Chris. She felt like she was on the edge of her seat as the plot twisted and turned in unexpected ways. There was an audible gasp from the audience as the Winter Soldier’s true identity was revealed for the first time. They all knew that he was Bucky Barnes, of course, but knowing and seeing it play out on the big screen were two very different things.

The audience cheered and applauded as the end credits began to roll. No one got up to leave, however, and as everyone waited for the credit scenes, the applause died away. In its absence, Ellie could hear people murmuring about what the collapse of SHIELD meant for the successful TV show and how it would affect the storyline.

Once the credits had finished, there were a few more speeches before the celebrities were escorted from the auditorium ahead of everyone else. Then the ushers let each section out a couple at a time, so there wasn’t a mad rush for the doors.

Ellie and Phoenix stuck with Chris's friends as they made their way across the street to the after party at the Hard Rock Cafe. They grabbed food and drinks on their way inside and then found a table that was large enough for their group, even resorting to stealing a couple chairs from a nearby table to make it possible.

Chucky was telling them all about the Captain America: The First Avenger premiere when Chris finally made his appearance after taking care of additional press and photo ops. He playfully slugged Chucky in the side for the story before accepting a hug from his friend and everyone else at the table. During the exchanges, the chair next to Ellie became available and he took it, giving a nod of thanks to Tanya, who was now perched on her husband's lap.

"The movie was really good," Ellie told him with a smile. "Really good."

"Thanks," Chris replied with a slight flush to his cheeks that only deepened as his asshole friends gave him similar but sarcastic comments as well. He knew it was all in fun and, not wanting Ellie to feel awkward, he bumped her knee with his under the table and gave her a reassuring smile when she glanced in his direction.

Chris sat with them for a few more minutes before he forced himself to get up and move about the room to visit his other guests. Despite that, he found himself looking in Ellie's direction every so often and, occasionally, she was looking back at him. He wanted nothing more than to return to the table and hang out with her, but he knew he couldn't.

After being at the party for a couple hours, Ellie and Phoenix decided it was time to leave. They said goodbye to Chris's friends before making their way over to Chris's mom's table to see if any of the other guests, who had stayed for the after party, were ready to go back to the house, but none of them were.

They were making their way to the exit when they bumped into Chris talking to a couple of his co-stars.

"Are you guys leaving?" Chris asked, after introducing them to Anthony Mackie and Scarlett Johansson,

"Yeah, it's been a long day," Ellie replied with a nod.

"Well thanks for coming tonight," Chris said. He gave Ellie a hug and then gave Phoenix one as well. "Do you guys need a car to get home?"

"We ordered an Uber," Ellie replied and had to fight back the grin when she saw Chris's jaw twitch. She wasn't sure what he had against her using Uber, but it amused her to no end.

"Congrats on the movie, Chris," Phoenix said, stepping in to diffuse the tension. "I think it's going to be a massive hit."

"It was nice to meet you both," Ellie said to Anthony and Scarlett. "See you later, Chris."

Then she and Phoenix made their way out of the restaurant and down the street to where their Uber driver was scheduled to pick them up. The driver took Phoenix home first and then took Ellie to Chris's house. It wasn't until she was in the guest house that she sent Chris a text saying that she had gotten home safely.

----

It was after two in the morning and, even though he'd been up late every night that week and had had jam packed days, Chris was too wired to sleep. He briefly considered texting Ellie and asking her to come outside, but that would only raise questions he wasn't ready to answer yet and there wasn't anywhere to go where they could be alone. So, instead, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and went out to sit on the deck.

He'd only been out there for a few minutes, when he heard the door open behind him and, looking over his shoulder, saw Tara closing the door behind her as she came outside.

"Am I really that predictable?" he asked as he patted the spot next to him on the outdoor couch.

"Yes," his best friend replied as she sat down. "The movie was great, Chris."

"Thanks," he said, bashfully. There was something about getting praise for his work from his close family and friends that made him feel a bit shy and awkward.

Tara chuckled next to him and took the opportunity to steal his beer. She took a quick sip of it and then gave it back to him. She waited until after he'd taken a sip to say, "So Ellie?"

She smirked when she saw his body go rigid and knew she'd been right about the glances she had witnessed between the two when they thought no one else was looking. She had to hand it to them, they had been very sly about it, but having known Chris as long and as well as she did, it hadn't been hard to figure out. Realizing that he was still on edge, she finally let him out of his misery. "Relax, I like her."

At her words, Chris did relax to some degree, but he still seemed on edge.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, cautiously.

"Only to someone who knows you really well," she replied with an arm on his shoulder. "I really do like her. She's not like the ones you usually date."

"She's not," he agreed though his mind was still whirling over Tara's words. If she had figured it out then his mom probably had, too. Clearing his throat, he casually asked, "Do you think mom knows?"

His best friend snickered into the back of her hand, clearly enjoying his discomfort. He glared at her, momentarily forgetting they were sitting outside in the dark and that his glare wasn't effective if she couldn't see it.

"Honestly, I don't know, we haven't discussed it," she replied though they both knew the topic would come up eventually. "Your mom isn't dumb and she knows both you and Ellie. I'm sure she has an inkling that something is happening, but you and I both know she won't say something to either of you until you or Ellie tell her that something is going on."

Chris nodded his head, knowing that she was right. His mom had always been the type that would wait for you to confess your sins and/or share news before she spoke to you about it, even if she knew what had happened before you told her. And she always seemed to know, especially when he'd done something bad.

After downing the rest of his beer, Chris rolled the empty bottle between his hands. He knew he should tell his mom what was going on with him and Ellie, especially if she already suspected something was up. But telling his mom would change her relationship with Ellie and he knew that Ellie valued his mom's friendship just as much as his mom valued it. Not to mention the added pressure that came with telling your family you're dating someone and the expectations that naturally arose from such an announcement. Adding all of that to the fact that he still wasn't sure about things made it even more complicated.

"You don't have to decide or do anything tonight," Tara's voice interrupted his thoughts. She squeezed his shoulder as she stood up. "It's late and I know you have a flight tomorrow. A long flight with lots of time to overthink it all a million times. Go to bed. It's going to be a madhouse around here tomorrow with most of us leaving."

Somewhat reluctantly, he followed her into the house and made his way up to the office where his empty air mattress awaited him. As did the loud snores coming from a couple of his buddies. He shook his head as he crawled into his sleeping bag. Maybe next time he'd insist on sleeping in a real bed after his premiere and maybe not by himself.

Episode 18

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[purplesurveys]

634

What's the song that makes you want to dance? I grew up from the 2000s to part of the 2010s, so I think I’d dance along to almost any dance bop that got put out during that period. Right now, the first songs that came to mind were Gaga’s Poker Face and Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance. Have you ever called yourself a gangsta? I probably stupidly did when I was a kid. It was a popular term, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I used it to refer to myself. Do you use push pins or tape to keep things on your wall? I just use tape. I don’t have bulletin boards that have the brown material that would let me use push pins. How old do people guess you are? I reguarly get guesses between 17-20. So pretty close, and I also get to feel good because they think I’m younger than I actually am hahaha. Does it annoy you if they guess too high? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a >21 guess.

Use any styling products in your hair? Nope, I just use good ol’ shampoo and conditioner. What is your favorite energy drink? I don’t take energy drinks. They smell scarily sweet and I don’t know what it can do to my body. Have you ever snuck out of your house? If I ever did, it was in the daytime and not done in a rebellious way at all. I remember when my younger school bus mates Yanna and Lex surprise-visited me at home for my 18th birthday, then they invited me to go out and walk to their houses so I did. That’s probably been the most sneaking out I’ve ever done. Describe your clock in the bedroom: I don’t have a clock in my bedroom because I’m already okay with my phone and laptop’s clocks. Do you chew on your cuticles (the skin under your nail)? I’ve never done that. I didn’t even know that was possible. Do you feel like you found your place in the world? I’m only 21, I’m still on my way there. I’m fitting in okay, though. What is your dream job? I have several. Astronaut, surgeon, veterinarian, and lawyer are the more notable ones. At one point I also wanted to be a psychologist, then I realized how much it would ask of me mentally, so I had to put that ~dream away. When did you last go to the bathroom? Around 15 minutes ago when I woke up from my nap. Where does the 'magic happen' in your house? I don’t know what this means, but based on context clues I’m going to assume this is referring to sex – and it’s a little disgusting to answer the question of where my family members have sex in the house :/ Do you have pens that don't work, but you still keep them? I have a G-Tec that I haven’t thrown away even though it’s so close to running out of ink. I keep planning on buying refills for it, but I always either am too far from a bookstore, or I entirely forget about needing refills when I’m already in or near a bookstore. What do you use your lotion for? Primarily, it’s for when my arms or legs are feeling dry. Sometimes, if there’s no perfume lying around, I’d put lotion on my face as well to mask the smell that comes along with drinking. Do you own some sort of MP3 player? No. I had a fake MP5 (but it was a cool fake product because it was able to store music, photos, and videos, and had a collection of vintage Nintendo games). Being fake, it didn’t have the best lifespan so shortly after my parents got me an iPod Nano, and I guess that counts as an MP3 player? If so, do you ever leave the house without it? If not, do you want one? We weren’t allowed to bring gadgets to school, so it was a while before I felt brave enough to sneak my Nano into the school bus and proceed to hide it all day while in school. When I got used to it, I brought it everyday. Is love a labor to you? It can sometimes feel a bit of a chore especially if we’re both being stubborn. If love was a labor, would you join a union? Ohhhhh...you mean THAT kind of labor...what the hell dude? Who are your friends? I have lots of them, but one thing that’s for sure is that my friends are either ones I’ve kept since high school, or friends I met during college. What do you consider a friend? I should be comfortable with them and our senses of humor must meet at least on a few points. It doesn’t have to be completely the same, but it would help if we had one or two things to laugh over together. Have you ever had your nails painted black? Yeah, as a teenager. I had each nail painted half-black and half-pink, because that was AJ Lee’s style back in like 2013 and it. was. huuuuuuuuge. I got a few stares in public and I do realize now how silly it must have been and looked like, but I was genuinely happy with how it turned out and comfortable enough to have worn that style of nail polish in public, which says a lot. Is your room messy? I didn’t make the bed earlier so yep, I’d say it’s messy.  What would you do if you were mugged on the street? Scream as loud as I can to attract attention. Have you ever done a Mad Libs? No.  Does a persons dominant hand actually affect the age they'll die? I doubt it. When is the last time you skinned your knee? More than a decade ago. This would happen to me almost everyday because I was a clumsy kid and would trip every single time I was allowed to play outside. Do you own a flashlight? Yeah, it doubles as a taser. Is there something in your bedroom you wouldn't want your grandma to see? There’s nothing too explicit, but there are some memorabilia pertaining to my relationship, and I don’t know yet if I’d want her to know about that. Have you ever heard someone label you? If you mean eavesdropping, then no. When is the last time you read "Green Eggs and Ham"? I don’t think I’ve ever even read it, or had it read to me. If it happened, I’m guessing it was also more than a decade ago. Define communist: Everybody does the same tasks, everybody gets the same necessities. At least that’s the gist I’ve gotten after four years of being in UP. Define republican: I’m not American and this isn’t a term used in Asia. But I do know I like this side much less than the Democrats. Would you rather see the opposite sex naked or dressed in a slammin outfit? Uh, dressed I guess. Is today your unbirthday? Sure. The most annoying thing about being human: The fact that I never asked to be here, lmfao. How many fans do you have in your house? Six. When is your next dentist appointment? I’m not sure, but my dentist told me I have to go back in a few weeks because he has to put fillings on the spot where I had my tooth extraction. Something important to you: My dog. If you had to choose a color to describe how you felt what would it be? Gray.

[peachofyourheart]

How To Be A Professional Author And Not Die Screaming And Starving In A Lightless Abyss

Your reading today comes in the form of this Medium article by Heather Demetrios: “How To Lose A Third Of A Million Dollars Without Even Trying.” It’s a good article. I feel deeply for the writer, because this shit we do comes with no real map. No creative map, no story map, no industry map, no money map. “HERE IS A BUNCH OF MONEY,” a sinister shadowy figure says in an alley. “IN SIX MONTHS, WE WILL EXTRACT FROM YOU A BOOK, AND THEN THE DEAL IS COMPLETE.” And then the shadowy figure is gone, and all you’re left with is the crisp smell of burning paper and a mysterious whisper in the well of your ear that says, “deckle edge.”

But, the good news is, there exist answers to a lot of these conundrums, and so I’m going to do some painting-with-shotguns here and try to broad-stroke some thoughts and answers about the challenges this writer faced in her Authorial Journey.

Your Agent Is There To Help You

You need an agent, and a good agent who will explain to you this stuff — an agent who answers questions you don’t know to ask and who also (obviously) answers the questions you do ask. Now, an agent isn’t psychic, and I’m gonna guess a lot of them default to expecting you know some of this stuff, or they’re so brined and pickled in the industry they’re like fish swimming in water who don’t know what “water” even is anymore. Which leads me to highlight the next point:

Definitely Ask Questions

Deeeefiniiiiitely totally utterly absoflogginlutely ask questions. All kinds of questions. No questions are foolish, especially when it regards your career, your finances, your future. Ask your agent. Ask your editor. Ask anybody you know in the industry. Ask other writers! I have found other writers to be a wonderful well of fresh, clean water when it comes to that sort of thing. Certainly I must acknowledge that I feel the SFF genre is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to industry folks willing to share their experiences and offer answers. Oh! Speakawhich, may I recommend Dongwon Song’s PUBLISHING IS HARD newsletter?

Definitely Ask Questions From Multiple Sources

Crowdsource better answers by getting multiple answers. That’s it, that’s the deal. One answer may not be comprehensive. Also, authors are not always right about how things work. Hell, I’m probably wrong about stuff in this very post. Also, if your agent isn’t clear on this stuff, or won’t answer questions, fire that agent out of a cannon, and into the mouth of a great white shark.

Publishing Money Is Fucking Weird

Publishing, particularly big publishing (sorry, Big Publishing, aka Big Book, or The Bibliodeities of Mannahattan) pays advances ahead of your royalties. Smaller advances mean you’re likelier to earn out, but a small advance also does little for you up front. Larger advances mean you’ve got a considerably larger “cost of life” cushion, but are less likely to earn out.

Your contract likely stipulates you get paid a certain amount up front — a third of the contract, let’s say — upon signing, and then you get paid the rest of your advance usually in chunks when you meet certain milestones. Turned in first draft, or final draft, or upon publication. I have found these milestones to be different at different publishers (and I’ve worked with a lotta publishers).

You owe 15% of that to your agent/agency.

Earning out is a theoretically straightforward affair — calculate how much you make per book based on the percentage royalty driven by format. Let’s say 10% per hardcover sale, or 25% of an e-book. But there, we enter into squirmy, less certain territory already. If Amazon discounts your book, do you make the 10% on the cover price, or the sale price? (My understanding here is, it depends on who initiates that sale. Amazon initiates, you get it on full. Publisher initiates, you get on the publisher’s choice of price.) So, every sale of a book is earning you a specific amount of money —

So, if my book Wanderers is a hardcover at $28.99, I theoretically make ~$2.90 per sale of that. And an e-book at $13.99 earns me ~$3.50, so from there I should easily be able to calculate what it would take in this round to “earn out,” but I’ve done that math on other books, and I’ve never found it particularly accurate. Why? Because it actually isn’t that simple. Between audio sales and library sales and less traditional sales channels and then book returns (yes, bookstores return unsold stock sometimes and that can ding you), it starts to become a bit of occult calculus that only sorcerers can understand. You can kinda eyeball it? You can make some educated guesses as to how many books you’ll have to sell to earn out, but even then, how many in what format? Some books sell 75% in e-book. Some sell only 25% in e-book. Wanderers, to my shock, has had a rough split of 33/33/33% across print, e-book, audio. Could I have foretold that? Nope.

If you know how many books you sold, that would help, but —

It’s Hard To Know How Many Books You’ve Sold

Publishers are starting to catch up to the fact that authors want to know how well they’re selling (weird, who knew?) — Penguin Random House has a pretty robust, snap-to-it site that has daily updates to your book’s sales. It’s nice to have, if not necessarily useful at every step. And it’s not always wholly accurate, either, which honestly isn’t their fault — we imagine an age where every strand of every industry is plucked with every sale, neatly and nicely updating the total, but as with every industry, it’s less an elegant web and more a clumsy knot. Retailers are independent and not plugged into one another. Each store is not lightning fast in how they respond to things. Even Amazon on the back-end is, from my understanding, kind of a hot mess.

(It’s funny, I’ve met with Amazon multiple times under the auspices of, “Tell us how to help authors more.” Arguably because they want to help more than publishers do, making friends of authors directly, beyond publisher relationships — which, ennnh, okay. Still, I always tell them one thing: GIVE AUTHORS MORE DATA. Tell us our sales! Tell us our Kindle sales in particular! Tell us when people quit reading our books! And they say OOH YES GOOD POINT and then it never happens and hahaha good times.)

Treat Your Publishing Money Like A Demonic Bargain

You should always be fairly dubious of that money. Not that it’ll disappear — it’s just, it’s wildly inconsistent, as I hope I’ve made clear. It’s inconsistent in its timing, in its amount, in everything. It’s constantly shifting ground, and that unsteadiness of the financial earth should leave you particularly touchy. The ground can crack and fall out at any point, which is why you need to budget. Planning is key for a writer’s life, and that’s hard, because we’re a sack of cats, mentally. But you gotta know how to portion it out, and you have to see down the road to where the money is coming from. (As a sidenote, it’s why it’s vital not to give up too many rights — foreign, film/TV, other licensing opportunities — to the publisher. Those random drops of money, while totally not-count-on-able, can be helpful just the same.)

Oh also ha ha ha the taxes are killer.

You’re gonna pay taxes on that.

And they’re not fun.

Budget, budget, budget. At any meaningful levels of money coming in, GET THEE AN ACCOUNTANT, and possibly even hie thee hence to forming an LLC, which can, at high enough income levels, drop your tax burden a little bit. Others will sell LLCs as also being able to defer liability but most lawyers and accountants I’ve asked about this suggest it’s a bit of a myth.

It’s hard to get a mortgage as a writer, if you’re the only income.

Trust me when I tell you that. Doesn’t matter what you earn, you don’t fit into a box that they can neatly check on the application, so you’re a strange animal to the mortgage broker, like a Zebra who fucked a Dolphin and who is also from the future? We’ll talk more about DAY JORBS in a minute.

Cost Of Living Is A Real Thing

The cost of living is tied to where you live. And so, your Publishing Dollar goes a lot farther in places where the cost of living is lower. In other words, if you’re going to choose to live in The City (that city being NYC, SF, whatever), you are almost certainly fucking yourself in every uncomfortable position.

Now, the opposite of that is, sometimes you get advice that amounts to demanding you live in some unpleasant nowheresville — and that’s fine, if you’re fine with it. I’m not. My publishing money could go much farther if I lived, say, 100 miles to the west, but instead, I live where I live. It’s not a profoundly expensive place, especially compared to, say, NYC, but it’s also not as cheap as, say, Ohio. But (nothing personal) I do not want to live in Ohio, I want to live where I live, because of culture, because of education, because of access to places like NYC or Philly or the Lehigh Valley, and so here I dwell, even if my Publishing Dollar would go farther in Nebraska or even in the middle of my own state. As writers, I find we do thrive a little bit based a little on the place we live — and so, live where you want to live, just be aware that there are concessions to be made if you do, and costs for that choice. But also, probably don’t live in NYC or SF. Live near them, ok. In them, not so much.

Back To Those Pesky Advances

I have been fortunate enough to have a somewhat gentle arc to my career — a nice hill of slowly advancing advances. I started small, with four figures, and have added zeroes as time went on. It’s been a slow boil but I prefer that, because it demonstrates what I hope is an increasing audience and quality of books. The worry is when you jump through the gate and someone hands you a fat sack of six figures and it’s like — boy howdy, you’ve probably got nowhere to go but down. Debuts tend to get an almost weird amount of attention (same as how the first book in a series nearly always gets 1000% more publishing attention than the second or third), but even with that, it’s hard to see how a New Author is going to just Rocket to the Moon on a first, big book. It can happen! It has and will again. But just know that opening big is a trickier gambit. It’s like, you wrote some songs and have a guitar and OOPS now you’re headlining Coachella ha ha good luck I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Wait I Didn’t Even Talk About Bucket, Or Joint, Accounting

Back to the tricky calculus of “earning out” — it gets trickier when you realize that some deals don’t just demand you earn out one book, but rather, all the books in your contract. The advances-per-book are put in a bucket, and so you must out-earn the bucket amount, not the per-book amount, before you start seeing royalties beyond your advances. This can be tricky with a series, let’s say, where the first book does well, and where no subsequent book is likely to do better than that first book — it robs you a chance of earning out with one book even if you don’t on the next two, let’s say.

How Marketing Is Tied To Advance

In general (and nothing is ever universal in this industry), the higher the advance, the more money the publisher has in their budget to support the book, particularly in terms of marketing, advertising, and publicity. On the one hand, this makes sense, right? Your book is an investment, and so they don’t wanna invest a bunch of money and then just have it fail — so they contribute more money and infrastructure toward paying off that investment. But it also means that lower advances can mark you in the “uhhh let’s throw it at the wall and see what sticks!” category, which is tough. It puts a lot of burden on you. And that burden is often unfairly thought of as being high effective buuuuut

You Are Never As Effective As A Publishing Budget

Trust me when I say, you can do a lot as an author to encourage people to read your books. But also trust me when I say, a publisher’s efforts in this realm is multiplicative compared to what you can achieve. Stay in this industry long enough — and so much of this industry is exactly that, just staying in the goddamn game — and you will reliably detect when a publisher is spending money on a book. You can tell because it’ll have buzz, it’ll get media placement, you’ll have appearances, and so on. You can also tell when they haven’t done shit for your book. Even if you yourself have done a lot!

Do you need a website? Probably. Doesn’t need to be fancy, but shouldn’t look like a half-ass botch-job, either. Should work on mobile and all that.

Do you need swag? I’m of a mind that it moves zero needles, and I’ve never seen data that it moves needles, and it just seems to be a thing authors have internalized that they need?

Do you need a tour? I mean, I dunno. At a debut level, I’d say no. As with crowdfunding anything, you need an audience already in place to make that make sense. Better to do cons and conferences, I think, at earlier levels, though other authors may disagree.

This is part of the trick, by the way: advice for a debut author, and for a mid-list author, and for a mid-career author, and for a hugely successful author, are very, very different. It can in fact be as individual as writing process. It’s all broad strokes, so take everything even here with many many grains of salt.

A whole salt lick, even.

Your Day Job? Don’t Quit It

This will be the 1000th time I’ve said this and I’ll say it a million more: don’t quit your day job. When do you quit your day job? When the work is at such a level that you either have to quit writing, or quit the day job. That’s it. When you’re up against the wall and you see, “I can’t write these books and also still go to work every day,” that’s a signal. (And ideally it’s a decision made easily because you’re making enough money at writing that it makes both financial sense and is a financial necessity.)

But otherwise? Hang tight. You’ll have no health care. As I said, mortgages will be harder to get. Everything is a little harder when you’re a ROGUE AUTHOR FREELANCE MERC out there in the PUBLISHING WASTELAND. Bonus: have a spouse who has health care and a steady job.

Note, again, I’m fortunate enough to be the sole income for our household as a writer. And I’m doing okay, and am comfortable. But I also still have these difficulties, and the erratic payment schedules can be brutal. All of it adds up to:

Have Plans On Top Of Plans

It’s like, if you live in the PNW, you probably have an Earthquake Preparedness Kit? You need that as an author. (Er, metaphorically speaking. Authors are not subject to actual earthquakes in particular.) Squirrel away money. Have plans on top of plans. What if your genre collapses? What if your agent quits? What if your next advance is way too low to survive upon? What if the economy shits the bed? Have a plan for next year, for five years, for ten. Envision how you remain in this game. A writing career is, as I’ve noted before, a CLIFF MITIGATION EXERCISE. You are eternally speeding toward the cliff’s edge. You might careen off that edge and into a ravine and crash in a spectacular fashion at the end of every contract. And so you need to imagine how — before it happens! — you’re gonna build a ramp or a bridge or some rocket boosters or shit. You gotta Evel Knievel that cliff somehow — but how? New genre? New age range? Break into comics? Some self-publishing on the side? Have plans inside plans inside plans. Especially if shit goes sideways. My day to day is spent thinking 50% about what stories I want to write and 50% what I’m going to do to keep my career going. Which leaves me little time for like, BASIC LIFE-BRAIN FUNCTIONS, so uhhh oops?

To Add In, And To Sum Up

– Publishing is fucking nuts, and trying to understand it is like trying to win a staring contest with the Eye of Sauron, but you gotta try, or you’ll die

– JESUS CHRIST ask some questions, seriously

– Publishing is not a lottery, and you need to treat it like a serious business venture where you’re given the squalling baby of a writing career and your job is to keep that thing alive and somehow get it to college, and if someone wants to put that writing career baby in college before it’s learned to walk, you should be very very wary of that

– Drink the fancy cocktails when you visit NYC, but don’t live there, for Christ’s sake

– Not every publisher is the same, some are fucking amateur hour karaoke, and some are well-trained machine assassins who never miss their shot

– You don’t control what a publisher does; get me drunk and I’ll tell you STORIES

– You should definitely know when your book is coming out and not via Google Alert, like, just ask, just ask your editor or ask your agent to ask your editor (your agent can be a very good “bad cop” if you need them to be, and they should be eager to fill that position, because a good agent is working for YOU, not for their relationship with the publisher), AHHH ASK QUESTIONS

– Art and Commerce are fiddly, uncomfortable fuck-buddies, they’re always fucking, but they’re always fighting too — but that doesn’t absolve you from cleaving only to the art and failing to learn about the commerce side of things

– You’re never dead in this industry until you stay dead, otherwise, get up, claw your way out of the grave, write the next book, change your name if you have to, change an agent, change genre, whatever; you do it because you love this thing and being undead is cooler than being regular dead

ANYWAY

There is probably shit I’m missing.

Feel free to ask questions — I may not get to them quickly, as I am dealing with lots of LIFE STUFF right now. (I wrote this post in a bit of much-needed down-time.)

If you like this post, and find it helpful, don’t buy me a cup of coffee.

Buy WANDERERS. Or tell your friends. Or leave a review.

Lest I die starving and screaming in a lightless abyss.

[fmdjoosungarchive]

fmdmeme001

yes, i’m late. at the bottom, there are pictures of the asks i got for this meme back then, so you know i’m not cheating

what is your favorite single you’ve released?

“if it’s just about what single i like best as a song, i think it’s hola hola. i’m quite partial to more upbeat, summery songs. it’d probably be hola hola for what makes me happiest too, because it reminds me of officially debuting, and i was really excited back then! but i liked the concepts for you in me and bomb bomb the most. you in me has more of a story to it which i like, and bomb bomb makes us look really cool.”

what are your favorite b-sides/non-title tracks you’ve released?

“overall one of my favorite songs we’ve ever released, b-side or not, would be living good. it’s the song i’ve had the most hands on approach in creating, and i’m always wanting to give back to the fans and show them our love. if it’s strictly about sound, though, i think it would be trust me, in any which version. it’s the closest to the kind of music i’d like to make for myself some day.”

what is your least favorite song (title track or b-side) you’ve released?

“ah, i don’t think i have a least favorite? i love all of our songs! if i had to choose a song, it’d be bomb bomb. it was really nice to get to have a comeback and for it to do as well as it did, but it’s the furthest song we have from what i’d normally listen to. it’s a bit harsh for me.”

if you could do a duet with anyone in the industry, who would you choose?

“anyone? gosh, um, i’d do a duet with all of my idols if it were up to me. maybe [gold star soloist 1]? i’ve been a fan of her as long as i was into music, so about ten years now. i’d like to do a soft duet about love where i get to sing. she’d sing way better than me, of course, but i don’t mind being upstaged, especially by her.”

what do you think of your/your group’s concept?

“it’s really cool in my opinion! a lot of what we do has been very different from other groups, and in some ways, it’s worked in our favor. when the company told me i’d be representing the water element, i thought that was fun because i love swimming and the beach. and i think it fits with our fans a lot too, because they represent the world, and so do we, in a way.”

what is one thing (a concept, a genre, an outfit, etc.) you would least like your company make you do?

“i... don’t want to come off ungrateful to the company or the concepts that they come up with but, i would really not like to kiss anyone. i don’t mind romance concepts, and i think it can be fun, but there’s something different about being that intimate with someone. i’ve only shared romantic kisses with one other person in my life, and i’d like to keep it that way. i suppose i can’t choose what happens to me, though.”

what one thing (concepts, genres, styling, frequency of comebacks, etc.) would you like to change about your current career as an idol?

“only one thing? um... i don’t like the way the company leans into my looks, but i think more important than that is the frequency of comebacks. we had a very powerful debut, which gave us the momentum, but we’ve somewhat lost it, and i think part of that is because we don’t have comebacks super often. it’s not as fun listening to a group’s discography when they only have a small number of songs.”

if you could be in any idol group, which one would you choose?

“knight. ...was that too quick of an answer? i don’t hide that i’m a big fan of bc groups, and though i love decipher and charm, they’re getting up on becoming a ‘senior group’ now and still have an incredibly strong fanbase. but if gender wasn’t an issue, i’d go with wish. i don’t like playing favorites, but wish is definitely my favorite group these days. i love their concept and every song is great in my opinion!”

if you could say one thing to your ceo, what would it be?

“i’m not very confrontational, so i don’t think i’d be able to say much beyond thanks and bowing. truthfully, i knew her better as a trainee than i do now. but, if i didn’t have to say it to her face, i’d like to kindly express that i don’t think competition is the way to build a successful company, because if they put more behind groups like us, maybe we would be more successful. but i don’t like the business oriented mindset, so, i’m biased.”

if you were auditioning for your company today, what would you perform for your audition, or what would you change from your original audition?

“i’d change everything from my original audition! i had no idea what i was doing at the time because i’d never had any training in the arts. i know at the time i was passed through because i was scouted based on my looks, but if i did it today, i’d rather wow them with my dancing, probably to an impulse or origin song, since that would be what they’d be looking for from me. i’d like to say i would sing for them as well, but that’s still a few years off, i think.”

if you could do any special stage, what would it be and who would it be with?

“it would probably be performing bemyfriend with @fmdseyeon! it’s the first song i’ve officially released outside of element, and it would be a lot of fun to do with one of my best friends. we have good chemistry because of it, and i think, especially if we had some say in the stage, or the choreography, it could be a really fun stage to do together. i’m also always up for dancing more, and who better than a man who used to fall asleep in the practice room as trainees with me?”

what career opportunities would you like to pursue that you’ve yet to, or what achievements would you like to obtain that you’ve yet to?

“i’d like us to get a music show win. i don’t know if it’s in the cards for us, but maybe if the korean public start to like us more it could happen? i’m not sure... um, personally? i don’t think there’s much i haven’t pursued that i want to, as i’ve been trying to do more of that lately. i’ve liked what i’ve been doing as i create songs and choreography, though. it makes me happy.”

if you could become a model or ambassador for any brand, what would you choose?

“hmm, maybe for a cute character i like? like kkt, or hello kitty. or! a bookstore! that would be really cool. i don’t think bookstores have ambassadors, but i love books so i’d be knowledgable enough for the gig. that sort of branding stuff isn’t big on my mind, though.”

if you could be on any variety show, which one (or which type of one) would you want to be on?

“i really love kids, so if it were a current show, i’d like to be on the return of superman. stuff about kids makes me miss my nephew a lot, but i love meeting new people, especially kids! they’re all so nice and good, and the world needs more of that. but if i could choose one that isn’t on air anymore, i think hello baby would fit me better, and it’d be fun to do it with the rest of element! we’d make good parents.”

if you were offered the chance to become a ceo of an entertainment company, new or existing, would you take it? why or why not?

“that’s a bit of a difficult question. i don’t think so. i’d like to think that i could be a fair and understanding and kind ceo, but i wouldn’t like the job. i left my home for music because i didn’t want to be in a business position. i’m not very good at having the strength to win deals and be cunning in meetings, and i think when it comes to competing against all of the other entertainment companies from the ground up, you’d need a lot of that.”

what changes would you implement if you were the ceo of your company?

“again, i don’t like the thought of being a ceo much. it’s too much pressure. but, if this were a scenario where i didn’t have any holds barred, and could make decisions as i pleased, i’d let all of the artists contribute to the music as much as they wanted, so long as they were willing to be vetoed and work with experienced professionals. i’d treat everyone equally, and use idols not based on what will make the most money, but on what they are the most passionate to do.”

what do you do to relieve the stress of idol life?

“i take baths! it’s not always an option, especially when we’re out of the country and a hotel room doesn’t have a bath, but i love it! there are so many relaxing scents to waft through the room, and it’s generally relaxing to let your muscles decompress in warm water. besides from that, though, i like talking with my friends and reading.”

what tips would you give to a trainee about to debut?

“am i the best person to ask this? i’m unsure, given element’s debut was so unconventional. i have a hard time thinking of our debut being in 2017 because it feels like it was in 2016. but, um, drink well, eat well, and look after your health. no matter how much you want to push yourself, you can’t be productive if you go too far and get hurt. you’re a person at the end of the day and deserve to treat yourself kindly.”

what was the hardest part of being a trainee?

x

did you enjoy the lifestyle of a trainee or of a debuted idol more?

“both have their ups and downs, and i don’t know if one outweighs the other. maybe debuted idol? there was some sense of accomplishment and less worries over whether i would be kicked from the company, especially in the beginning. nowadays, i’m not sure. i think it doesn’t matter in the end, because they’re connected, and i couldn’t have been an idol if i didn’t go through the training, and similarly vice versa.”

what one song or album by another group or soloist would you have liked to release yourself?

“i think... @fmdtaeyong‘s album daydream? i’m not a very talented singer, but the sounds is something i would like for myself. that’s part of why i admire him as an artist, because i love the songs he creates. if i needed to stick to something more within my position, though, it’d be @fmdjaewon‘s biorhythm album, for a similar reason as ash sunbaenim’s. we may not have gotten along much in the past, but i have always admired him as an artist and would love to work with him in the future if that is the kind of music he enjoys.”

describe your dream sub-unit (members and concept).

“can’t i be a part of wish as a sub-unit? ...alright, um, if i really think about it, i’d want to have people that i think are very talented, and work well separately and together. [gold star soloist 1] would absolutely have to be a part of it. then, maybe @fmdxsuji. her vocal power is intense. @cindyfmd too, they both have the similar punching power that could contrast with [gold star soloist 1]’s soft vocals. and then, if we choose another rapper, probably [silhouette main rapper/lead dancer]. and that way, they make a very solid group, and i can step back more and have less lines, if any at all. i don’t think one singular concept would work for us, so maybe it could be like fuse or 7rophy where we can bounce around to whatever feels right.”

out of the following six options, would you rather be allowed to play a major hand in the lyrics, production, choreography, styling, music videos, or concepts you release?

“gosh, that’s really hard. i’d like a part in at least most of those if it were totally up to me. but if i could only have a major hand in one, i think i’d choose production, if that could mean production and composition in one. as much as i love dancing, i think a lovely part of the community of dancers is learning from one another. when it comes to the sound of a song, i think that’s the biggest point in what drive’s the rest of those things. like, in element, people think of us as summery and tropical because many of our songs use tropical beats, and a lot of our styling and concepts have followed that.”

which of the two other companies (out of bc, dimensions, and gold star) you are not currently signed under would you rather be an artist in?

“definitely it’d be bc! i have friends under the company that don’t like it, which i understand but... they make really good groups. many of them have stayed together for a really long time, some without losing members in so long, and they have a lot of money and fame to back up new groups. they get the best of everything for their comebacks. and i’d... like to be a part of a company that believes in me and my group.”

what is your least favorite part of being an idol?

“the way fans talk about me and my friends. i think they think we don’t, or can’t, see the mean things they say, but so many of them are mean for no reason. they like to do this thing where they fight each other over who is a fan of the better idol? i don’t understand it, and it never gets anywhere. they both leave with the same opinions they had, but more upset.”

what is your favorite part of being an idol?

“this may sound cliche, but it’s music. the art surrounding music is the reason i auditioned for the company, and the reason i spent eight years working as hard as i could to debut. music, and the things that come with it, like dancing, singing, composing, they’re all a part of my soul. i wouldn’t give any of them up without a fight.”

would you rather be incredibly famous with a terrible reputation and hated by most or be fairly unknown with a good reputation and adored by those who know of you? why?

“fairly unknown! that’s probably the answer more close to where i am now. i am... known, of course, but in korea, i can generally get away with going out on my own and not being recognized. and, unless i’ve missed something, i’m pretty sure i have a good reputation. some people may see me as a playboy of sorts because i have a lot of female friends, but it’s not damaging as far as i know. i don’t want people to think terribly of me, because i think if there are so many people who have that awful opinions of me, i must be doing something wrong.”

what moment in your career are you proudest of so far?

x

what have you learned about yourself and/or society since becoming a celebrity?

“i don’t know if i’d necessarily call myself a celebrity... but i’ve learned a lot since our pre-debut! time does that to anyone, i think. the standards i hold myself to have changed, in that, while i’m still competitive against myself, i know i can’t push myself to the point of tearing more ligaments, because it only hurts me later on. in my personal life, i’ve become a bit different. i think some of my naivety has drifted away, and as i’ve come to find love, i’ve changed there too.”

what would you like to change about how society views or treats idols?

x

[beardyallen]

Day 3 - An extensive recap

First, I want to extend my apologies to those who have been patiently awaiting this post. I had every intention of writing this yesterday, which got away from me (as you’ll see if you keep reading), and then I had every intention of writing this in the morning, which disappeared (again, as you’ll see if you keep reading). It’s now 5:38pm on Wednesday, February 20th as I’m typing this sentence, and I’m once again exhausted from a long day.

[Edit 2: TL;DR for the following TL;DR -- A bunch of cool stuff happened, including books, dragons, lions, motorcycles, KFC, banks, SIM cards, a Starbucks, public transit, and traveling to two opposite ends of Beijing in a single day. Also my trip went from horribly lonely and daunting to pretty freaking cool and slightly less daunting in less than 24 hours. Done typing this at 8:55pm]

Edit: It’s legit 8:37pm when I’m making this edit, only a bit after posting the original. I wanted to add a tl;dr for those not interesting in reading all of this shit. Basically, I made 4 friends in Beijing, none of them from the same country, only one of them is white, only one is male, and only one is from the US. All three of these descriptions describe CB, my supervisor. His wife, RB, is Indian and works with children orphaned due to birth defects. There’s ML, a half-Brazilian, half-Japanese Communications instructor at ICB, and her friend R, who is herself a former Chinese physician turned public health professional/liaison/something-or-other that seems far more impressive and is exactly what she wants to be. All of them are really cool, interesting people that I’m very glad I had the opportunity to meet. In no particular order, I went to several bookstores, a Starbucks, a KFC early in the morning, the supermarket (twice) and got beer (both times) for ridiculously low prices, experienced the Lantern Festival (still not entirely sure what this is, but there were dragons and lions and motorcycles doing crazy synchronized stunts in a metal globe) at an amusement park, rode 5-6 different subway trains and a city bus, ate 10+ new foods, bought a book (because of course I did) which has both the original English and the translate Chinese characters on each page, tried to open a bank account, then got a SIM card, then actually opened a bank account, finally unpacked my luggage, and spent 3 hours typing this blog post. Also the long flight and trip from the airport to my new apartment were mostly uneventful. See? Even this was super long!]

The last you all heard from me here was as I was sitting in a bar in the Vancouver Airport, Sunday morning. Which was sort of 2 days ago, but sort of 3. Time zones are funky, especially when you cross the International Date Line. *shrug*

After I finished writing that post, I lumbered over to my gate and waited to board with the other couple hundred passengers. At one point, I noticed an older woman (probably in her 60′s or 70′s?) trucking along on one of those things that I can only manage to call a human-conveyor-belt that you see in airports. I mention this as she, had she been on carpeted flooring, she would have been making good time; as it so happens, she was on the conveyor belt that was going opposite of her destination. She was still making progress, but every so slowly, and seemed maddeningly oblivious to the fact that the floor was fighting her at every step. Fortunately, she made it to the other end without incident, although the same cannot be said for when she attempted to enter the next belt; a concerned employee using that particular belt in the intended fashion beckoned that she stop and try the other. So she stopped walking. And didn’t do anything, even when her feet made it back to where she had started. Naturally, she took a pretty solid tumble, lessened only by the shocked, and rightfully flustered, employee, who managed to help her to her feet as half of the onlookers gawked.

The actual flight, all 9 hours of it, went off rather uneventfully. Especially compared to the above story. It was nice having the longer flight second, as completing the first gave me an unearned sense of accomplishment; I’m nervous for my return as I’ll have actually achieved something when I get back to Vancouver, only to have to sit back down for three more hours. Seems less enticing, especially as I won’t be going back to an apartment that I’m renting. Oh well: that’s a problem for Future-Me, as are most things. I will say that the food on the flight was quite satisfying, and the complementary wine was much tastier than expected! And I managed to read a good chunk of Dan Brown’s Origin.

After landing in the Beijing airport, I managed to get through customs without too much trouble and had my first several experiences of what I’ll just refer to here as stranger-staring. #sarcasticwoo

I was met near baggage claim by an undergraduate at the University who chose to call himself Paul. I would later find out that, although it is common practice for Chinese residents to give themselves “American” or “Western” names, they don’t seem to share those names with their fellow residents.

Needless to say, I was exhausted and just wanted to eat something and lie down without dealing with anymore people. To his credit, Paul was an excellent host, his English was quite good, and he helped me to my apartment without incident. I think he was expecting to escort me to dinner at one of the nearby dining halls on campus (Princess Building), but I (hopefully graciously) conveyed that I would really rather just go to bed. After he left, I took a stroll on campus to the Princess Building to check it out for myself, and then stopped at a nearby convenience store to grab some snacks. GUYS! THEY HAVE CUCUMBER-FLAVORED LAYS POTATO CHIPS!!! And so many other flavors that are mind-boggling, and somehow simultaneously vague and specific.

Once I was back in my apartment, I chowed down on some fruit bread, drank some water, had a moment of near paralyzing fear/anxiety/regret/shame/etc., scolded myself for being (I think understandably) pathetic, and then went to sleep. By that point, I had been up for nearly 23 hours, and it was somehow already 7pm on Monday, Feb. 18. I slept until 6am the next morning.

That morning, I got in touch with CB, my supervisor, who was more than happy to meet with me around 11am. So I spent the morning figuring out how to be an adult person in Beijing. Several standard things took place that were daunting only because I’m in Beijing: showering, brushing my teeth, grabbing some toilet paper to carry with me, deciding how much cash to keep in my wallet, etc. I also came to the disturbing realization that there are precisely three outlets, each with one port. One of them was occupied by the television, one by the mini-fridge, and one was free to charge my tablet; it was then that I decided to try to go shopping and track down a power strip.

Day 2: Merry Mart

First, I want to say one quick thing: the exchange rate from RMB (also called yuan) to USD is approximately 0.15:1. So, as an example, I spotted a can of beer for 5.90 yuan, or roughly $0.90. For those of you who know me, you may understand why this was my first example.

Now, the supermarket that I was heading towards is located on the other side of the north gate of the CAU (China Agricultural University, which houses ICB, or the International College of Beijing, where I’m living and instructing), and my apartment is in the very southeast corner of campus, about a 10 minute walk away. And it’s not even 8am yet. I mention this as, when I approached the supermarket, or rather the building housing the supermarket and a dozen or so other shops, I noticed a KFC right next door. Now, I shouldn’t have been shocked to see the advertisements were for food that you would never find at a KFC in the States, but I was. What I feel completely justified in being shocked at was that the KFC was already quite busy. Naturally, I stepped inside and saw that a “Chicken Burger” with a glass of milk (and maybe a side?) was going for 12 yuan, or $1.80. So cheap!!

I stepped out without buying anything and continued into the supermarket. Oh, the wonders I beheld. I’ll try to keep it short, but I’ll point out that I’ve never paid so much attention in the produce and meat sections of a supermarket as I did yesterday. Once I made it past these sections, I experienced an onslaught of packing that looked both familiar and foreign (yes, I realized how stupid that sounds as I typed it). As I was on a bit of a mission (for hand soap and a couple power strips), I contained my curiosity as best I could. But I did take a peak at all of the flavors of Lays Chips in the snack section...

Fortunately, I managed to find a power strip! They had Philips power strips going for 70 yuan (~$10.50) and some from a company I’ve never heard of for 30/40 yuan. Naturally, I grabbed on of the cheaper variety. It seems I didn’t bring enough cash the first time. I moved on, failing to find anything that I could guarantee was hand soap, but let me tell you: after being around people who I could not understand, guessing at products based on the images along, and recognizing that I’m waaaaay in over my head, I have never been so happy to see a can of Budweiser in my life!

Now, I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure a 3-pack 16-oz or 500 mL or whatever-their-volume cans came out to 9 yuan, or $1.35. What a deal! (Fast forward to this morning, and I stumbled an even better find: 500 mL cans of Guiness with nitrous rockets for 15 yuan ($2.25) a pop! In the States, those usually run $16 for four!)

After spotting way more milk (a recent trend, apparently) than I’ve ever seen, ultra-pasteurized so it can sit on an uncooled shelf for months at a time, heaps and heaps of “sanitary tissue” and slew of snacks that boggled my poor, unworldly mind, I made my way to the checkout. Fortunately, I stick out so damn much that people just expect that I don’t speak Chinese; the look of mild irritation isn’t grating at all, it just lets me know that I’m not the only one who feels moderately uncomfortable at my residing in Beijing for these next 4 months. The interaction at the stand was pleasant enough, and we mimed our way through the bits that weren’t communicable. Then I headed back home to meet with CB.

Day 2: The Book

So, I’m already feeling wildly unprepared to teaching a senior-level mathematics course, but one of the few things that was keeping me grounded was that the book was to be selected by administrators at ICB/CAU, so that would save me having to make most of the decisions regarding content for my Probability class. Moreover, the university would provide the textbooks to the students. Little did I know, and little did CB know, and little did the person supposedly in charge of retrieving said textbooks from the library, no textbook was on file for this class. #sarcasticwoo

FORTUNATELY (can’t believe how many lucky breaks I’m catching!), there happened to be a textbook titled Probability and Statistics for Engineers and something-or-other. To be honest, my eyes glazed over at “Engineers,” not because they are lesser scientists, because they are most assuredly not, but because they just don’t appreciate the fine nuances of theoretical mathematics. That is to say, they’re lesser scientists. ;) #allinjest #imsuretheyvegotsickerburnsforme So, I guess I’m teaching from an Engineering textbook.

During this brief window of time with CB, I learned how various countries measure the breathability of the air, acquired a facemask, and snagged an air purifier. Things necessary to life in Beijing! I was then invited out to lunch with CB and his wife RB; I was unaware that their would be fourth, ML. Having never met RB, and being unaware that ML existed, I waited for the 20 minutes that CB needed to get a couple things ready before lunch in my room, then headed down to the entrance of the Guest House (where my apartment and office are located, in case I haven’t mentioned it by name yet). Waiting there was a 30-something Asian-descent woman who somehow didn’t look like she was a native Chinese resident. Best guess: RB. She smiles at me and asks if I’m here to have lunch with R, to which I say confirm and ask if that’s her. Turns out it’s ML, and a reference to a particular Disney movie popped into my head. (I bet you’re not thinking of the same one I was, though!) Anyway, it’s 12:30pm at that point, and I wouldn’t spend the next 11 hours with ML, a Communications instructor for ICB who has only been in Beijing since September, barely speaks any Chinese and gets by reading it as she knows Japanese. Turns out she was born in Brazil, though! That certainly explained why her features were not quite Chinese.

CB and RB showed up a few awkward, mostly silent, minutes later as, not anticipating a fourth left me just socially awkward enough to just keep my mouth shut and let my mind wander. RB led the way to a Chinese restaurant around the corner, and we had a ridiculously cheap meal. Everything was delicious, even the rice noodles and cabbage dish! CB asked how open I was to trying things I’ve never had before, and I responded that I’m hear to make the make the most of this opportunity. He followed up with, “So, you’ll try chicken feet?” I’ve never so quickly doubted my convictions before! Fortunately, the food we order was basic enough fare for a Chinese restaurant, so I didn’t have to prove my grit just yet.

Day 2: The Big Adventure

During the meal, ML mentioned that the “lantern festival” was that night, and that she’d be joining a friend of her’s somewhere in Beijing, TBD. CB mentioned off-handedly that there was a 4-story bookstore several kilometers away. My interest was piqued, but having no means of transportation, I kept my mouth shut. ML did not. She expressed serious interest in venturing out to the store, and I asked if it would be in imposition if I joined. After lunch, CB and RB gave us a rough pin location for the building, walked us over to a bus stop, explained to me how to use my transit card (Thanks, CG!!!), and saw us off on our adventure. At this point, it seems relevant to mention that, although I have two cell phones (my usual American one, and a Chinese phone bought secondhand from ES) (THANKS ES!!!), I don’t have internet access or any real means to contact CB or RB. I also don’t access to a map app (see: I don’t have internet access). As it turns out, ML’s access is hindered by the fact that her iPhone is apparently dated enough to not operate at full capacity with a Chinese SIM card. So she has spotty internet. SPOILERS: Her cell phone would die later that evening. #dundundun

The bus ride was uneventful, and we got off where we thought was should. Without the name of the bookstore or any solid evidence to suggest precisely where the bookstore was, ML then confides in me that she has frequently found herself incapable of finding her destination, wandered around for several hours, then given up and went home. My confidence was soaring. But, as they say, “When in Beijing...”

After finding a map of the surrounding area and comparing it to a screenshot of the rough-pin-location of the bookstore in question, I managed to match shapes cut out by walkways and roads and spot where we should be heading. The pin led us to a bookstore. But this bookstore had only one floor, although the building housing it had 20 floors and an elevator that looked out over the surrounding area. Needless to say, we rode the elevator for a moment before deciding to continue exploring. Stepping outside, we tried to reach CB...and we did! He gave us a more accurate pin and the name of the bookstore. Only one of those two things wound up being helpful.

On our way over to the new location (2 more blocks West), we stumbled on a developed “alley” that housed a wide plethora of shops, including....A BOOKSTORE!!! Dudes and Dudettes: let me tell you, this bookstore was amazing!! Check out the pictures below:

So cool! But this wasn’t where the pin was located, only had two floors, and when we scaled the spiral staircase, some 20-something employees started walking towards us and speaking in Mandarin. ML goes, “I’m sorry, we don’t speak any Mandarin, but we think we know what you’re trying to say. Have a nice day!” And we walked out of the store with our tails tucked loosely between our legs.

I was I could accurately convey all of the things I saw that struck me as fascinating while we explored this area of Beijing, but honestly there was just too much, and I can’t imagine you all are still reading this carefully, given that I’m not exactly giving the “Reader’s Digest” version of events. Or so you may think. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m doing my best to keep this short while still conveying how crazy this day was. And we’re only a couple hours into my afternoon/evening with ML. I applaud any and all who keep reading attentively. I’ll try to make it entertaining.

I will say that in this alley, I got stared down by a police officer. Mildly intimidating and recalled to mind the other intimidating visual to grace me. Just after checking out at the supermarket that morning, while I was packing the couple of items I had purchased into my backpack, I looked up and saw, for the first time in my life, 4 full sets of riot gear. Helmet, vest, nightstick (or whatever it’s called), and some sort of gun in a padded case. Sure, I know that I’ve been around those things before in my life, but never were they in plain view, seemingly on display.

After a few more minutes, a few more crossed streets, and pulling ML out of the way of a car that didn’t seem to care that she was there, we made our way to the pin’s location. And none of the stores around us bore the name of the 4-story bookstore. But we did find another bookstore.........and it turned out to be the right one! Crazy!! Of course, this was after trying out what we guessed was a calligraphy shop that seemed to primarily sell books? The words on the door were somewhat misleading. Anyway, let me tell you: in spite of being in a bookstore filled with words that I can’t understand, I still felt so calm and secure being surrounded by all of those books!

At this point, ML and I seemed to have figured out each other’s senses of humor and made frequent jokes and shared stores as we roamed the shelves, looking desperately for books written in English. After searching all four floors, some twice, we find a section with no markings nearby that happened to have some books in English. After looking over all of the classics (pretty much all they had), discussing the ones we’ve read, conversing about those we haven’t, we each picked one out to buy. I’ve seen Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World referenced too many times in crossword puzzles and trivia questions to not have developed an absurd curiousity for this book I’ve never read. So naturally I bought it. It seems like a rather nice-looking copy, no artwork to speak of, but elegant in a somewhat formal-Chinese kind of way. It came to 26 yuan, or about $3.90. HOW AM I BUYING A BOOK FOR THAT CHEAP?! WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?! *sigh* Well, I seem to be getting by without my Kindle fine enough for now...(THANKS AGAIN RS FOR SHIPPING IT TO ME!!! I’ll let you know as soon as it arrives!)

Day 2: The Lantern Festival

At this point, ML had heard from her friend who I will just call R (have yet to become privy to her family name), and we were given the name of the place we were headed towards: Happy Park. By now, it was around 4:15pm, and we needed to somehow figure out where Happy Park was, how to get there, and manage to not get lost in the process by 6:30pm. So we went for tea. The place we stopped in was what seemed to be a solid attempt at a German tea/coffee shop-slash-bakery. And I got a cup of English Breakfast Tea for 22 yuan ($3.30). Not the best deal, but I learned an invaluable lesson: just take a picture of what you want to order! So simple, so elegant, so effective!!! I was also by this time learning that most people make purchases using the main “social media” app, WeChat. In fact, many shops and restaurants don’t carry any cash as WeChat is just a more effective means of payment. You can link a debit card to your account and you’re good to go! (More on this in Day 3).

<I’ve been writing for almost 2 hours! Yikes!!!> <I wonder if I can get a book deal out of this...>

Without really knowing where to find a subway station, ML and I headed back to where the bus dropped us off, thinking at the very least we could head back to campus and the subway station there. (Also, for those of you who don’t know: I’ve never ridden a subway. Sure, I use RTD rails almost daily in Denver, but somehow this just seemed different. Especially given how many lines there are and that we didn’t actually know where we were going...) We found a bus heading back towards campus, hopped on, and almost immediately spotted a subway station. The bus didn’t drop us off for 2-3 more blocks...

After meandering back to the subway station, we found a map and lo-and-behold there was a stop dedicated to whatever Happy Park is. And it’s on the complete opposite side of town. #unethusedyay #adventuretime We plotted our course and hopped on the train without incident if you don’t count the pile of vomit that I would almost certainly have stepped in had ML not avoided it just before me! *phew* The subway itself was on par, if not nicer, than the trains in Denver, if only a bit louder. Confined spaces and all that. By the time we made our three transfers and got to the other side of Beijing, the sun had set, it was 6:20pm, and we had made it just in time! R met us at the station minutes after.

When we turned to see where we were headed, I was floored. Right in front of us with giant glowing words spelling out (in two languages) “Happy Park” was an amusement park that rivals some Disney parks in it’s show-y-ness. As it was dark, I can’t say precisely how big it was, but I was impressed. Tickets for entry were 145 yuan (roughly $20), which I fortunately had brought along that morning, not realizing precisely how crazy the day would get.

Once inside, R informed us that there’d be a show starting in a few minutes. We tried to find a spot, but the girls had trouble seeing over the heads of the people ahead of us. In fact, I had to stand on my tiptoes as most of the people in front of me were holding up their children, phones, and self-sticks. There was a small mound that almost certainly was not intended for foot-traffic, but nonetheless had a solid 75 people standing on 6-foot-tall trees. When we joined the crowd up there, hoping for a better vantage point, we were disappoint. That is, until ML decided to climb a tree. And I joined her. Naturally. I don’t have pictures of the entire show, sadly. I was too busy being floored and hoping that my one leg that was supporting my weight would hold up! I’m also not including them here as I have to format the videos. But stay tuned in the near future for videos!!

After the show, we wandered around the park for several more hours. I was quite impressed. And the food we got was quite delicious!! Small, fried potatos balls, and donut-hole sized balls loosely-based on a Japanese dish that I couldn’t possibly spell correctly, topped with dried fish. YUM! Check out the pictures of some of the attractions we saw:

This was the interior of an Aquariam-themed section of the park. It was a welcome respite near the end of the night, given that it felt like it was nearing 10F outside.

A Mayan temple, with a restaurant inside and, probably, a water-slide ride built into it? Hard to say. If only our phones hadn’t died and we weren’t so cold by the time we made it to the Athenian/Spartan-inspired section of the park! So many cool statues and buildings!

A still shot as 5 motorcyclists entered the arena after some drum-dancers! Stay tuned for videos of them riding inside the wire ball on the right! [Edit 3: the videos will likely get posted as gifs. Quality will probs be not great. One of them will involve the motorcyclists doing loop-stunts, and the other will involve a dragon-dance with dope fireworks. I didn’t get any video of the lion-dancers from earlier in the show, but take my word for it: it was dope as fuck. So much so that I don’t feel bad about dropping an f-bomb in this edit. I can’t possibly find the words after 3.5 hours of writing to convey just how cool this show was!]

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what this is, but it looked cool!

This was a small bridge, reminiscent of the bridges in Europe where people write their initials on padlocks and toss the keys into the river below. From what we could tell (thanks to R’s understanding of her native tongue), the pieces all talk about the love between family, friends or significant others.

After the Aquarium-themed building got us toasty warm, and it was ticking closer and closer to 10pm, we bee-lined it out of the park and back to to the subway station. Another three transfers, some more conversation, and we were back on campus. While on the trains, either to or from Happy Park, I don’t remember which, ML commented on how quiet I had been earlier that day while waiting for CB and RB before lunch. Given how quiet I was at lunch, she was understandably worried that the pattern would continue. If you know me, you know it just takes a bit for me to get comfortable and figure out how to talk to you. Needless to say, I told too many stories with a surplus of details in each of the bookstores, on each of the trains, and all of the time in between. I’m thinking ML is going to be a pretty solid friend these next couple of months, if I she doesn’t get sick of my stories first!

As I alluded to above, it was around 11pm before we were back in the Guest House. I was ridiculously pooped but not entirely unimpressed at how not-jet-lagged I was! I passed out soon thereafter and woke up for the third and final time around 7am.

Day 3: Merry Mart II, the Second Part

Alas, morning came; and with it came a surplus of energy to spent getting my life together in Beijing. I still hadn’t unpacked my luggage, there were too many things my apartment was still missing, and I didn’t have a reliable means of feeding myself as I had been warned (and witnessed) that many places just simply don’t carry cash. And naturally don’t accept American credit cards.

So I packed a small bag and headed out again. I stopped by Starbucks, attempted to order a Black Tea Latte from the girl who said “Morning” to me, and made the false assumption that this particular colloquialism implied English-fluency. I wound up with a regular Latte. Still good, though! After that, I made my way to the KFC near the Merry Mart only to find that this establishment is one described above. My cash wouldn’t do me much good there. *shrug*

In the Merry Mart, I grabbed several more bread-based food items, a microwavable meal in a bowl, another power strip, some gum, and more chips. Pringles. American flavors. Two cans of Guiness, and two bottles of hand soap. This time, I kept track of the price of each individual item so I knew how much cash to have ready at the register. This time went far more smoothly, and I filled my entire backpack with items that ran up to 134 yuan (~$20). HOW?! HOW AM I GETTING SO MUCH FOR SO LITTLE I LOVE THIS!!!

Day 3: Getting my shit together

After that, my mind was set on opening a bank account to connect to my WeChat account. I reached out to CB, who graciously offered his assistance for a small amount of time. Ideally, this wouldn’t take too long. After all, he has plenty of work to be getting on with!

Well, the first bank we tried didn’t work because I’m not staying in town for more than 2 years. The second bank was more accepting. He translated exceptionally while I filled out documents written completely in Chinese. I was having an internal panic attack as I did something that felt incredibly wrong or anything. No, not at all. It’s totally okay to sign your name on documents that you can’t read. Yup, totally okay...

As it turns out, the bank would need to send me verification texts, so I gave them my phone number. But my American phone number wouldn’t work for them (they didn’t even try!), so after 30 minutes of waiting and 10 minutes of paperwork, CB and I headed down the street to get a SIM card and a cellular plan. Oh boy. All told, I think I waited for another hour there while CB got some work done; the paperwork and discussions took another 20-30 minutes. Once I had my phone situated, CB assured me that I could handle the rest of the bank stuff on my own as the staff would certainly recognize me and remember what I wanted. Plus, most of the paperwork was already filled out, right? Right? *sigh

The staff at the bank were less than enthused to find that CB hadn’t joined me. This was gonna be a blast, let me tell ya...

All told, I filled out twice as much paperwork as the staff scrambled to find a way to communicate with the moronic American who didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on around him. Of course, filling out this paperwork and determining exactly what they wanted and whether or not I wrote down the right things (i.e. understood exactly what information they were after) included 5-8 different sessions with several different employees, each with somewhere between 10-70 min wait-times. On the plus side, I’m almost done with Dan Brown’s Origin. Not his best work, but certainly entertaining enough to pass the time in a bank surrounded by people who probably would rather I not exist. To be clear, I don’t begrudge them at all; their service was impeccable, and their patience was never-ending, and the entire thing was significantly less annoying than it had any right to be, given the language barrier.

I left their establishment many hours later with a debit card, Chinese bank account, and the means to buy stuff wherever I wanted to go. And a significant amount of confidence that I can get through the next four months quite contentedly. Granted, I didn’t do nearly as much to earn this confidence as the staff at my new bank did!

After the fiasco at the bank, I went back to the Guest House, unpacked my suitcases, and laid down in bed to type this novella. That was several hours ago.

Convinced that I’ve had a crazy few days?

A coworker from Denver asked me how China has been so far, and I told him that it “[w]ent from shit to fantastic so damn fast.” Hopefully my long, rambling story has here has justified that claim for those of you reading this.

There was only one other day in my life that I can recall feeling as justifiably petrified as I did Monday night. I described the feeling as trying to wake up from a dream only to find that you’re wide awake. I was encouraged earlier today to remember that I don’t have to get through all 4 months of this experience at once; I just need to take it one day at a time. I usually don’t find these adages and idioms to be particularly helpful, but this one seems to be true.

In the future, blog posts probably won’t be nearly as long. Thanks for reading!

Now to finish this beer and book!

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

[shireness-says]

The Prickly Witch’s Guide to Magic

Summary: Emma Swan tries to keep the witch thing on the down-low. But when a handsome stranger discovers her secret and begs her to teach him magic, Emma finds herself using her powers for good to try and save his brother. ~9.6K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

A/N: It’s finally here - my @cssns piece! I’m really pleased how this one turned out, and I hope you love it too.

The fantastic fic art up top was put together by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, and will also be posted on her page. Go give her some love - she deserves it! Thanks for the edit, darling, I love it!

Special thanks also go out to my beta, @snidgetsafan; @distant-rose and @winterbythesea, who helped me come up with titles at the last minute; and the great mods for this event, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, and @katie-dub. Thanks for making this such a great event, I’ve loved getting to know folks in the fandom!

Tagging the folks I think might be interested: @branlovesouat, @awkwardnessandbaseball, @searchingwardrobes, @courtorderedcake. If you ever want to be tagged in my stuff, sent me a message.

And a quick disclaimer: my knowledge of anything medical is completely non-existant.

Without further ado: Enjoy!

Emma tries to keep the whole witch thing on the down-low.

It’s not that she’s ashamed – she’s really not. It’s just that if someone’s going to put the whole witchcraft thing into the public eye, it should probably be one of the people who view it as a way of life or whatever, instead of Emma, who tends to treat it as a hobby at best.

The thing is, she wasn’t raised as a witch, and she didn’t really actively seek it out either. She just went into the second-hand bookstore looking for a birthday present for Mary Margaret, and the old, leather-bound tome had just seemed like it was calling to her – like it was there for her and her alone. Like it wanted her more than anyone (with the exception of her best friend) ever had. So she had bought it for nearly obscenely cheap and brought it home.

(She learns later it’s technically called a grimoire, but when she first found it on the shelf, it was just a weird looking old book with a lot of funny illustrations.)

It was just messing around at first. It was pretty obvious the book was about some sort of magic, filled with discussions about the pros and cons of using wands and short biographies of famous wizards (hello, Merlin and da Vinci) and the importance of using as fresh of snake scales as possible for maximum potion efficacity. Emma didn’t take it too seriously right away, but she was finally bored enough to look through it one day, and shocked to find most of the instructions actually worked. At first, it was just little things – seeing if she could turn on the lights (she could), make a grilled cheese appear (she couldn’t, but that’s apparently less about ability and more about obscure laws of witchcraft), clean her dishes (and oh fuck yes she could, this was the best book ever; her apartment would finally be clean and Mary Margaret would get off her back). So spells go pretty well.

And then she got into potions because her cramps were fucking awful one month and she never wanted to go through that again. So she looked through the book and found a potion for curing muscle aches and made up a batch to keep on hand. And the next month, when her uterus tried to kill her again, she tried it as practically a last resort, and it worked. It worked even better the next month when combined with the potion for “intestinal distress” that she found and thought might be good for the bloating (and hot damn, it was).

So Emma Swan, who can barely feed herself, is suddenly using her stove to cook up all kinds of potions – mostly the frivolous ones for, like, shiny hair or ‘an aura of confidence’ or whatever, but still. It counts. The massive soup pot Mary Margaret got her years ago has never seen so much use in its short, somewhat sad life.

And she kind of thought that’d be it – Emma Swan gains a weird hobby, keeps Mary Margaret stocked with all the aphrodisiacs she and David could ever hope to go through. But she’s out and about at a little café one day, and that same sixth sense that led her to the book starts going off again, and that’s how she meets Belle – librarian by day, witch and magical researcher by night.

And then Mary Margaret gets her a fish and calls it her familiar as a joke, and she and Belle keep meeting to try new spells, and it sneaks up on her, just like that, that oh my God she’s totally a witch. Even if Harold the goldfish doesn’t do much more than placidly putter about his bowl instead of helping Emma channel her magic, like she thinks a familiar is supposed to (that is the idea, right? The book wasn’t particularly helpful on that subject).

Things kind of spiral from there. It’s just her and Belle for a while, until Emma has to swing by the library to print stuff one day and finds a woman in there about to hyperventilate because she accidentally froze someone’s water bottle. And even if they haven’t noticed, the woman is still standing there shaking and muttering about this being why she can’t leave the house, and Emma can’t just let that go. So Emma manages to calm the woman down enough to get her into the Bug and back to her tiny apartment, and goes about plying her with hot chocolate made with magically operating equipment (à la Mrs. Weasley, if Emma’s being very honest about how this all looks) in an effort to show her that magic can be controlled and is actually a good thing. And that person is Elsa. Emma and Belle do a lot of research and invite Elsa to all their meetings, and are generally able to help Elsa get her powers under control – especially since so much of the problem was that Elsa thought she was the only person in the world who could do magic and everyone would hate her if they learned of her abilities. In time, Elsa becomes a regular member of their little social/research group.

(It’s especially nice when, after Elsa pulls her life together, she offers to let Emma live in one of the rooms of her old Tudor-style home and just pitch in on the utilities and groceries.)

(Anna still likes to periodically send Emma fruit baskets as a thank you for coaxing her older sister out of her shell, and Emma has never been one to turn down free food, even if the whole thing makes her somewhat uncomfortable. Emma Swan is not great at thanks, ok?)

Belle is the one who meets Regina at an old bookshop, when she actually has to fight her over an old spellbook (a fight that Regina wins because Belle is a total pushover, but what are you going to do). Regina is looking for a new circle after a whole debacle with her previous group – “My batshit crazy sister turned it into some sort of power-hungry coven, and I was not there for that” – and Belle is, again, too kind to say no.

(Never mind the fact that they’re practically becoming their own little coven after Belle moves in to one of the other rooms at Elsa’s, and shit, they really are becoming witches, aren’t they? Clichés and all.)

And they’re good, the four of them. Regina may want them to stretch their wings a bit, get out there and use their magic to effect small changes in the world, but Emma is more than happy with the way things are right now, searching out new texts and comparing notes with other local witches, and finding the perfect spell to extend their rooms to include an ensuite bathroom because that is a priority if Emma’s ever seen one.

But they’re not a coven. They’re just a group of mutual friends - or acquaintances, as the case may be with Regina - who all practice magic, and sometimes get together to do some research. That’s it. It’s like… a weird book club or something. And so what if they sometimes test out some of the more intriguing spells in the house or back yard? It’s not that unusual. And honestly, some of these spell names are so smudged they have to test them somewhere just to figure out what the hell they do.

(Oh fuck, they’re totally a coven.)

Honestly, Emma tries to keep her magic inside the house. That’s not everyone’s strategy; Elsa in particular uses hers out in the world, now that she’s opened an ice cream parlor, which makes sense given where her magical strengths lie. Belle sometimes uses her magic as a research tool at the library, Emma knows, especially when she needs that one specific book that has been reshelved in the wrong place (she’s actually fashioned this impressive computer application that will give her a map showing exactly where it is, which is hella impressive and something Emma thinks they could totally capitalize upon if the magic thing becomes common knowledge). Emma really doesn’t want to know if lawyer Regina is using magic in her profession because that seems pretty unethical. And Emma doesn’t want to be in the middle of it if it’s happening. Better for her to just… not know.

So she tries to keep the magic inside the house, but sometimes, exceptions have to be made. Like when she breaks a heel while chasing one of her skips and it just seems more efficient to create something magical for him to trip over than to keep chasing. Or when the horrible ancient computer in the bail bonds office freezes up again, and she sends a little spark into its ancient guts just to encourage any kind of action. Or any of the multiple things that go wrong with her Bug.

Like now. Standing on the street, staring at a dead battery.

And yes, eventually she will have to get that new battery, but it has been a Long Day, and Emma is tired, and she just wants to get home, dammit, without calling Belle or Elsa to come pick her up. And hey, she does have a way to fix this, doesn’t she?

So Emma metaphorically winds up and lets loose a little burst of magic, just enough to get the old girl running.

Unfortunately, when she steps back, satisfied with the now rumbling engine, she notices she has an audience.

Fuck.

She should have paid more attention, checked the area, but she was so damn tired, and now some dark-haired dude is staring at her with his mouth wide open. Which, granted, is warranted, since Emma just started her car with magic.

As Emma makes eye contact, his jaw snaps shut, and she throws him a look she hopes conveys “Don’t you dare tell anyone, idiot.” It must work, because he nods frantically with wide eyes. She’ll have to take his word for it; lord knows she’s not marching over there to demand a promise and even debating a memory spell feels far too Regina for Emma’s liking.

So with a final look, Emma gets into her car and drives away, trying to forget the whole debacle.

------

The problem is, she can’t just forget it, though not for lack of trying. After taking down her latest skip, Emma gets a few days off of work, finally getting the chance to replace her damn battery and even have a little downtime. But the afternoon of her first day back, when she’s just ready to get into her car and go back home to the creaky Tudor and maybe talk her roommates into takeout, he’s there, waiting for her to show up. The guy from the other day - the guy who saw her do magic, the guy who could probably expose her secret to the world if he felt like it - standing, just leaning against a streetlight right next to her car. And it’s fucking creepy, but Emma can handle herself. She’s got her gun at her hip and a switchblade in her boot and a whole encyclopedia in her head of ways to hit a man and make it hurt.

She’s just paging through her mental catalog for precisely which move she should use to get him to hit the road when he opens his mouth and shocks her.

“Can you teach me magic?” he demands, leaving Emma somewhat startled.

“Excuse me?”

“Magic,” the man repeats. “You have magic, right? Can you teach me?”

He may not actively be a threat, but he has now been reclassified as an annoyance in Emma’s book, which is almost worse. Threats? Emma can deal with threats: shoot them, punch them, kick them in the balls. An annoyance? Well, she still wants to do all that, but can’t find any justification to act on those impulses.

So again, Emma just rolls her eyes, climbs in her car, and drives away.

------

This continues for a week.

Emma will walk out of her building to find the dark-haired nuisance waiting and ready to beg. He always keeps his distance, never makes her feel unsafe, but is a near-constant irritation that she just can’t shake, dammit.

Her week goes something like this:

Monday: Tall, dark, and irritating flashes a grin he must think is flirtatious or disarming or something, starts to say “Excuse me, Miss, if I could just ask you a few questions…” and earns a car door slammed in his face for his trouble.

Tuesday: The annoying bastard comes with bribery this time in the form of a cup of coffee and that same charming smile. Emma gives him another look and drives away without words.

Wednesday: The persistent son of a bitch tries to get personal. “Hi there,” he starts, “my name is Killian Jones, and I was hoping we could talk -”

“Still nope!” Emma tosses over her shoulder before driving away.

Thursday: Emma doesn’t go in because she has an overnight stakeout that evening. It’s a nice break from Killian(noying) Jones.

Friday: He starts to seem a little desperate. He shows up with an honest-to-god hot chocolate and one of those packaged chocolate chip muffins she loves and tries to convince her (“The lady at the cafe said this is your order, and I was hoping to have a word with you…”).

Emma is not convinced, but she does take the muffin and tries to ignore the way his face falls in disappointment that her reaction hasn’t changed. (Even if she is starting to feel a bit bad, there’s no way in hell she’s taking an open beverage from a stranger. She’s not interested in becoming the next installment of Dateline, thank you very much.)

By the time the next Tuesday rolls around, he’s resorted to outright pleading.

“Please, Miss, I am begging you, teach me something about magic.”

Even Emma and her prickly heart are a little moved and intrigued by his desperation and persistence. A little. But the thing is, even if Emma wanted to teach him magic, she can’t. It’s not something he’d be able to just… pick up. You’re either born with the ability or you’re not, and Emma’s been able to tell which, ever since she first picked up the grimoire. It’s like a magic sixth sense or something, an itch under her skin that says all is not as it seems. It’s an itch she’s probably always had - come to think of it, that might have something to do with her lie detector and uncanny talent for tracking down people who don’t want to be found - but ever since she had found the book and delved into the study of magic, she’s suddenly and acutely been aware of that instinct. It’s how she met Belle, it’s how she met Elsa, it’s how she knows that her favorite waitress at the local diner isn’t just what she appears (and why Emma tries to tip extra well at the full moon, because if working with PMS is a bitch, working before you turn into a freaking wolf has to be equally awful). But this guy? This Killian Jones? Emma’s not getting any of her little mental alerts. There’s not a magic bone in his body. And Tuesday is the day she finally snaps and tells him as such.

“I can’t, alright?” she snaps. “Sorry to disappoint.”

But of course, a man as inexplicably desperate as he just has to push, to prod, to refuse to accept her damn answer.

“Well why not?” he demands. “Too busy? Just give me an hour, I’m sure we can figure something out - ”

“Because I can’t teach people who don’t already have magic, you idiot!”

His entire body practically collapses in on itself as he registers her words, and Emma almost feels bad. Almost. Except for the part where he’s been pestering her for a week now.

“You’re a muggle, Jones,” she chuckles humorlessly, before a thought catches her. “Why the hell is it so important that you learn magic, anyways?”

------

She feels like a total ass when he tells her.

Killian Jones, she learns, has an older brother, who is his entire world.

“He’s all I have left,” he chokes out through the tears. Because Liam Jones, beloved older brother of one Killian Jones, has been in the hospital ever since a drunk driver plowed into his car a month ago. There’d been a convenient bus stop nearby with a bench on which they could sit and talk, but Emma finds that he’s having trouble meeting her eye, as if fully facing the woman he’s begging for help means facing the reality of his brother’s situation. “The doctors were able to set the broken bones and fix the internal bleeding, but he won’t wake up. They’re saying things about brain damage…” the sad, dark-haired man in front of her trails off, running a hand through his hair. Emma can’t decide whether the gesture is more absent-minded or distressed. “He’s everything to me. And they’re saying it will take a miracle for him to ever be alright again.” His back straightens, as if with new resolve, and finally fully turns to face her. “Well, I don’t have a miracle. But you have magic, and I thought if you could teach me, that might be enough.” As the memory of her earlier words catches up, he slumps again. “But if you can’t teach me…”

“I can’t,” she interrupts, hating herself for the abruptness as new tears spring to his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I won’t help.”

For the first time, she sees a flicker of hope cross his face. “Yeah?”

Emma nods, once, definitively. “Yeah. Hop in.”

------

“Dinner will be ready soon!” Belle chirps as Killian and Emma walk through the front door of the old Tudor. “I found this mac and cheese recipe in one of the new cookbooks. It’ll probably be our cause of death, but hey, what a way to go - ”

“We’ve got company,” Emma finally cuts in, trying not to chuckle as Killian looks around the entryway with eyes comically wide, like he’s expecting a stack of broomsticks in a corner or something.

(To be fair, there is currently a broom in the corner where the stairs meet the wall, but it’s one of the plastic ones and there because Emma’s a bit of a slacker when it comes to cleaning.)

Belle rushes into the living room a moment later as Emma is still trying to motion to Killian to take off his shoes (technically, she could do it for him, but using magic on unsuspecting people who don’t deserve it is rude). She looks like some picture out of a misogynistic 1950’s Betty Crocker advertisement, with her heels and carefully coiffed hair and a damn apron, for fuck’s sake.

“Company?” she asks a little breathlessly - probably what running around in platform heels will do to you - “You didn’t mention company this morning.” And then, not nearly far enough under her breath to disguise the words, “You never have company.” It earns her a glare from Emma and an even more bewildered look from Killian.

“Yeah, well this wasn’t exactly planned.” Gesturing to the man in question, Emma continues into the introductions.  “Killian Jones, my roommate Belle. Belle French, Killian Jones. We’re helping him.”

Belle furrows her brow. “We? I’d love to help, Emma, but I’m not sure how much I can do to help find your skips -”

“No, not that. Magic. We’re helping him with magic.”

That catches Belle off guard, sending them into several moments of shocked silence, only broken when Killian quietly offers, “If that’s okay with you…”

Belle finally snaps back to attention. “Oh! Yes, of course! Oh Emma, this will be such a good opportunity to finally use these powers to make a difference…”

And they’re off.

------

Elsa reacts similarly to Emma’s sudden pronouncement, and Regina is practically giddy over the phone at the opportunity to finally fucking do something (and someone really needs to talk to her about interacting with people, because this is not the way to go about it). By the time Belle has the goopy macaroni spooned into bowls, they’ve brought down every spell book they own and spread them across the kitchen table.

Belle full-out cries when Killian tells the story again, and Emma knows she’ll do anything to help, what with her tender Disney Princess heart. Elsa’s already pulled out a legal pad to write down all their ideas, and Emma’s actually feeling really confident about this. Regina’s proved particularly good at locating sleeping curses and antidotes (which is, frankly, a little alarming), so that’s what they decide to try first. They all agree to meet at the hospital two days later to test their first batch of potential solutions.

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” Killian tells Emma quietly before he leaves, standing by the door and trying clumsily to put his shoes back on while juggling the Tupperware containers of chocolate chip cookies and macaroni that Belle insisted on sending home with him.

It’s the wrong thing to say, at least if he wants a real answer, because Emma Swan has spent her life looking out for herself and never really learned how to react to others’ thanks. She thinks she manages to mutter out something along the lines of, “Yeah, whatever, no problem,” but honestly there’s no telling - she’s too busy shuffling her feet and not making eye contact to really pay attention. He must sense it, because his words change from sentimental to almost business-like.

“I’ll see you Thursday, then? The main lobby at City Hospital, 6pm?”

Emma nods, grateful for the change in subject. “We’ll be there.”

He almost manages a smile. “Wonderful.” And then he���s gone.

(It’s not quite relief that Emma feels at his departure, but Killian Jones just makes her feel off balance, so it’s not sorrow either.)

------

Liam Jones looks rough.

Emma isn’t quite sure what she expected—she is coming to see a comatose hospital patient, after all - but it’s shocking all the same. She can see such a strong resemblance between the two brothers, but his frame looks diminished from a month hooked up to wires and fed through tubes, cheeks hollow and frame slim with an unhealthy, sallow tint to his skin. She can see the hint of a curl in his sandy brown hair, but it’s lank and slicked back. Overall he has the look of a man barely clinging to life, a barely breathing corpse, and it brings what two days ago in the kitchen was a theoretical problem into horrifying reality.

Maybe it’s just the harsh fluorescent lighting inside the hospital, but Emma Swan can suddenly see how awful Killian looks too. There are faint shadows under his eyes, and his cheekbones stand out in stark relief, more gaunt than they ought to be (though Emma does suspect that he always has those handsome, defined cheekbones, but this seems excessive and unnatural). Clearly, the worry over his brother is taking its toll on him.

Killian still tries to stay cheerful, plumping the pillows of a man who can’t tell one way or another and chattering away about “all these lovely ladies come to see you, you lucky bastard!”, but Emma can tell his confidence is wavering.

It’s only now, here at the hospital, that Emma realizes exactly how out of their depth they all are, how out of place to boot. They’re all here at the behest of a man they barely know, trying to help a man they’ve never met. No matter how Emma looks at it, she feels like an imposter, and even worse, a bearer of false hope for a man they may already be too late to help. Killian is trying as hard as he can to bring normalcy to this situation by making one-sided introductions, but there’s an awkward and heavy cloud that hangs over the whole situation.

It’s Elsa who’s the ice breaker, surprisingly, walking up and taking Liam’s hand like he’s anyone else she’d greet  in a meeting or on the street. Emma may have helped Elsa out into the world, but she’s still a retiring sort, shy and nervous about meeting new people. But she’s the one able to take the human, compassionate approach where the rest of them have fallen into the mistake of looking at Liam as a problem to be solved.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Liam,” she says in her soft, matter-of-fact voice. “We’re going to do everything we can to help you.”

And that’s enough to focus their attention and get everyone started.

Emma’s the first up, which is nerve wracking, but she’s the best at healing spells (way too much practice on herself), and they collectively decided that would be the first theory to try. Maybe, if they’re very lucky, this can be an easy fix, and Emma can sort out whatever is wrong with Liam’s brain the same way she would deal with a sprained ankle or broken ribs. Emma isn’t particularly hopeful, but looking over and seeing the trusting look in Killian’s eyes helps.

So she holds her hand over Liam’s forehead, gathers every ounce of concentration she possesses to collect the necessary magic from that well deep inside her, and releases it all at once. And yeah, it creates a nice little glow, but Emma can tell right away that it’s not going to work. She can already feel with her magic that there’s nothing to fix. She’s sure there’s better medical terms the doctors would use, but the closest she can describe it as is a feeling that his brain is stalled, or hibernating. She can help with some of the swelling, but Emma just knows, in a way that she can’t describe, that she can’t make him wake up.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to tell Killian with words about how she’s just failed; one look at her face, and what must be an incredibly guilty look, and he nods resignedly. “Thank you for trying,” he tells her, and that hurts almost as bad as her failure itself - the way he isn’t blaming her.

“We’ve got other things to try,” she adds, whether to remind him or herself still unclear.

And they do. Regina is already stepping forward with a list of spells to reverse sleeping curses, and Emma willingly passes the proverbial baton to allow the other woman a chance to try her solutions. A concentrated blast like she had just attempted is a pure burst of energy, and Emma welcomes the chance to slump into the nearby chair, no matter how uncomfortable, and take a moment to recuperate.

Emma has to admit - Regina is good at these complex spells, where each and every word has to be pronounced just so or it all goes awry. She’s also surprisingly gentle with their patient, brushing his hair back where a gust of magic must have tousled it, and Emma is surprised and gratified to realize that Regina must actually have a heart underneath that terrifying shell.

But even her skilled spellwork doesn’t do it. Liam Jones is still resolutely unconscious.

Back to the drawing board.

------

“I know technically it’s not a sleeping curse, but it’s not like magic is the most exact thing in the world,” Regina says, pacing the front room and blatantly contradicting her many soapbox speeches about how exact you have to be in magic and spellwork. “I was so sure it would work.”

She’s disappointed. They’re all disappointed. It had been heartbreaking to leave Killian with what was still only a shell of his brother, but they’d filed out one by one, Emma the last to leave.

“We’ll find something else that will work,” she says as confidently as she can muster.

“I believe in you,” he says. It’s funny how just those four words warm her heart. “But even if you can’t, I just want to thank you for everything you’ve tried. It’s a lot more than most would have done.”

(And damn if that doesn’t make her all the more determined to find a way to fix this.)

So they’re paging through the books again.

“There’s one here for ‘opening the mind’…” Belle uncertainly offers.

Emma shrugs in return. “Worth a shot. Can’t be any worse than that thing Elsa found about reversing a soul being trapped in the wrong body.”

They’ve made it through the obvious options - healing magic, sleeping curses - so the evening has been taken up by more outlandish suggestions. Light magic used in the wrong context doesn’t backfire, thankfully, so even their more absurd ideas won’t negatively impact Liam.

Emma has just shut one book and is about to open another when there’s a knock on the door. It’s late, nearly 9:30, and as far as Emma’s aware, they’re not expecting anyone (she’d been counting on it, actually, when she’d pulled on her fleece Mario pajama pants and an old t-shirt). But none of them are in the habit of just ignoring the door, so she hauls herself up off the old couch to find out what the hell this mystery person wants.

And (of fucking course) it’s Killian, standing there on the front porch holding a collection of Granny’s takeout bags like some sort of fried food fairy. And of course he looks bashful and adorable, while Emma’s in sloppy clothes and the glasses she never lets anyone see if she can help it. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“I, uh…” She can see his hand moving like he wants to scratch behind his ear, but he’s got too many bags and a tray of drinks to actually manage the maneuver. “I thought I’d buy you all some dinner as thanks for what you’re doing.”

Oh. That’s unexpected. Very sweet, but unexpected. “That’s, uh.... thanks. That’s nice of you.” She moves to take some of his load, and he gratefully hands her one of the stuffed bags. Emma can already smell the fried goodness, and she is so ready to eat (she may have forgotten to do so in the middle of all this research, a fact Killian undoubtedly knows somehow). Holding half the haul, she stands there, confused and with raised eyebrow, as the man on her porch makes no move to hand over the other half, and then some, of her dinner.

Seeing her questioning look, he smiles sheepishly. “I was hoping to maybe come in? Eat with you? I picked up something for myself as well.”

And suddenly, it clicks. He’s lonely, just like Emma used to be before witchcraft brought so many people into her life. He’d already said it; Liam is his entire world. And without Liam, he’s probably wondering what to do with himself. So she steps aside and lets him in the door.

“I hope it’s alright,” he says, “but I just went to the place down the street. They seemed to know everyone’s orders, so there wasn’t any guesswork.”

It’s more than alright. In fact, Emma’s switched her opinion and he’s clearly some sort of food bearing angel. The other ladies are in similar states of surprise and gratefulness - Regina earns a particularly baleful look for saying “Why are you here?” instead of a proper greeting - but dinner is a welcome distraction from their hours of research, and Emma is even convinced to give up part of her sprawl on the couch so the bearer of diner food can actually sit down. And then Granny is the saint, because the bags contain everyone’s favorites - some sort of salad and an iced tea for grease-phobic Regina; lasagna and a Reese’s milkshake for Elsa; a burger, loaded fries, and strawberry milkshake for Belle; and Emma’s classic grilled cheese, onion rings, and butterscotch shake. It’s just what they need to refresh their depleted energy, and offers a chance to step away for a few minutes and come back looking at things from a new perspective.

“Can I help?” he asks, halfway through his own bacon cheeseburger, and Emma can’t find any reason to say no. Especially not after he adds, “I’m surprisingly good at research.” This is an all hands on deck type of situation; another pair of eyes would be more than welcome for wading through stacks of dense text and Regina’s weird internet research.

He actually is pretty good at it, they find out. Killian Jones may not have a lick of magic in his entire body, but he’s got a knack for recognizing when some of the weirder wording might be applicable to their goal, like the “cleansing of the mind spell” that’s probably meant as a forgetting tactic or the “jolt of wakefulness” potion they could probably feed into his IV (and that Emma definitely wants to try on some of her stakeouts).

“Thank you for letting me be a part of something,” he tells her at the end of the night, his eyes hinting at meanings she’s not yet ready to understand. So she shrugs it off.

“We’re the ones who should be thanking you. You’re the one who brought us dinner, after all, and then stayed to keep looking at spellbooks. That’s not everyone’s idea of a good time.”

He smiles, a sad little thing. “Maybe not, but it’s an awful lot better than sitting at home, worrying about Liam and unable to do a damn thing.”

And she hates the confirmation that her suspicions were correct, that he’s lonely. But the good thing is, they can do something about the loneliness, because if Emma never had to be alone again after meeting her collection of witches, Killian won’t have to be either. Still, she tries to keep her words as nonchalant as possible. “Well, you’re welcome any time. Belle’s always looking for someone else to fuss over.”

He still smiles, like he can see right through her and knows Emma likes his presence too. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, in a final maneuver she thinks must be unplanned, if the way his ears turn bright red is anything to go by, he grabs her hand to press a kiss to its back. “Goodnight, Emma.”

And then he’s gone into the night, leaving Emma wondering what the hell just happened.

------

They’re back in the hospital again on Saturday, this time at a more decent hour. Liam Jones doesn’t look any better in the full light of day, and it’s with some alarm that Emma thinks he might be looking worse. She hopes it’s all in her head, that her eye has been prejudiced by the sight of all the hospital equipment, but she can’t help but remember what Killian had said - that the doctors decreed Liam would need a miracle. It’s absolutely crucial, imperative, that one of their attempts work.

Killian is still trying to keep the positive attitude on in front of Liam, but Emma can almost physically see the frayed edges of his optimism. “The lovely ladies are going to try a few more things, Liam,” he says, adjusting blankets. “So hold still, would you?”

There is some progress. The wakefulness potion is a dud, but the spell for opening the mind does increase brain activity, so Emma’s counting it as a slight victory. Even if Liam is still firmly unconscious, Killian is thrilled to see any change in his status. But unfortunately, they still end up having to leave again without finding a real solution.

It’s a pattern that continues over the next two and a half weeks. Emma, Elsa, Belle, and Regina spend every spare moment researching, and Killian will bring them food from various local restaurants or, on a few memorable nights, cook a meal (and Emma doesn’t even really like fish but damn if that baked whatever with the lemon sauce wasn’t the best thing she’s had all year). Schedule permitting, they visit Liam in the hospital every two or three days to test out new potential cures, some with more success than others - the potion for “opening one’s eyes” turned out to do literally that, which resulted in a still unconscious Liam staring at them with unseeing eyes until Killian carefully lowered his lids again.

Killian tries so hard to hold on to hope, but Emma can see the toll this has taken on him. He’s gotten progressively quieter, his shoulders more slumped, the determined fire in his eyes becoming dimmer and dimmer. The more she sees his optimism fade, the more her own determination grows, until she finds herself pushing to try some of the more risky solutions that the other women are hesitant about, because anything has got to be better than making Killian just watch his brother slip away.

“I don’t understand why you won’t try these things!” she argues one night.

“Well, we’re trying to cure Liam, not cause his demise,” Regina drawls, and somehow that only makes Emma’s anger burn hotter.

“And this is better?” she demands. “Sitting around, just hoping the right solution will fall into our laps? When it hasn’t in the past three weeks?”

Belle, as always, is a voice of reason. “I think if we end up moving into the riskier options, that’s a decision Killian should make, not you, Emma. If that’s what he wants, I’ll be more than happy to try.”

All eyes turn to Killian. He’s been especially quiet and downcast today, only picking at his sandwich and fries. That’s part of the reason Emma’s pushing especially hard for a change in tactics today - it hurts in a way she can’t explain to see Killian like this. But even with so many eyes on him, he just sits there quietly, rolling a French fry back and forth between his fingers and not responding.

“Well?” Emma prods. “What do you think?” If she can just sway him to give it a try, maybe they can make this better, and maybe she can put that smile back on his face, the one he gave her when they first started this endeavor and he was still excited and hopeful…

But something within Killian must break, as he stands up and mumbles something about needing fresh air before he stalks out of the room, the front door banging shut in the distance.

Regina offers her a disapproving look that is, honestly, probably deserved for her actions. “Great job, Emma. I’m sure it was absolutely helpful to piss off Jones when he’s the one whose favor you needed to win.”

Emma glares right back before exiting the room herself, following Killian out to the front stoop and sitting down at his side. He looks a mess, honestly; his hair is all mussed from running his hands through it, and she now finds him clutching his head like he’s trying to block out everything else that’s going on. They sit there for a few moments in silence - Emma gathering her thoughts, Killian seemingly suppressing them - before she finally finds her words.

“I’m sorry for pushing,” she says quietly into the night. “I know this is all your decision, and you shouldn’t do anything that you think isn’t what’s best for Liam -”

“It’s not that,” he says, flapping a hand to wave off her concerns. “I appreciate all you’re doing, really. It’s just…” He trails off, head dropping again before he finally turns back to her and completes his sentence, so quiet she has to strain to hear. “The doctors told me today that if Liam doesn’t show marked improvement by the two month mark, the middle of next week, that he probably won’t ever. And then, I’ll have to seriously consider letting him go.”

Killian’s quiet explanation leaves Emma feeling like there’s suddenly ice running through her veins instead of blood. It’s been obvious from day one how important this is, but now they will have to contend with the fact that they’re running out of time. There’s no words she can say to fix the situation; she can’t even begin to imagine what Killian is going through. All Emma can offer is to take his hand and squeeze it gently, simply offering the comfort of not being alone.

“I don’t know what to do, Swan,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to lose him, but if we don’t do anything, it’ll still happen.” There’s a heavy pause, as he once again stares off into the darkness, lost in his thoughts, before he finds the words to continue. “I trust you, Emma, and I trust your magic. Do you think the best chance to save Liam is in some of these riskier options?”

She’d suggested it out of desperation, but the truth is, she does. They’ve gone through all the obvious and safe answers, so if they’re going to save Killian’s brother, they’re going to have to step outside their comfort zone, try other options.

So she takes a deep breath, gathers all her courage, and replies in as confident a voice as she can muster:

“I do.”

------

Regina and the others take the new direction somewhat better when the marching orders are coming from the man any issues would most affect. There’s still quite a few mentions of “If you’re sure…” but that’s more or less expected, and they continue on all the same.

They’ve really had to get creative now. It’s not entirely unexpected that they start looking for spell combinations that might work in tandem where they’d be ineffective alone, but Belle also starts dabbling in writing new ones herself, taking the useful parts of several different incantations and somehow mashing them together. It takes a skill with languages that Emma frankly doesn’t possess, but she thinks the results ought to be effective, and Belle gets excited talking about the potential for publication if any of them work.

Each of their next several tries is still woefully ineffective. Liam is stubbornly unresponsive, and all the attempts just result in utter exhaustion on everyone’s part. Killian tells Emma over and over how much he appreciates their efforts, her efforts, that he’ll remember that regardless, but they’re all tired and desperate and it’s not working.

Until it does.

It works. It finally all works. Emma is so relieved, she doesn’t have the words to properly describe it. Killian’s belief in her may never have wavered, but Emma’s faith in herself certainly had, and the last days had been plagued with the panic that maybe she wouldn’t be able to save Liam Jones after all, that she’d be forced to disappoint Killian and his beautiful hope. But they succeed.

She’s right, too; solution that ultimately works is so far outside the box that it’s a miracle in itself that they were able to devise its steps. The easiest way Emma can think of it is as the human equivalent of turning the computer off and then back on again: Elsa freezes his brain in stasis for protection, Belle enacts a complicated spell for removing the soul from the body in a shining ball of light before reaffixing it as Regina shocks his heart with a burst of magic like defibrillator paddles. Then Emma’s left to send another glow of healing magic as Elsa removes the freeze, the whole thing topped by a kiss from Killian to his brother’s sleeping forehead - a True Love’s Kiss. It’s a cheesy measure, one that makes Regina roll her eyes, but Belle had argued that it couldn’t hurt.

And it hadn’t. There’s not some ridiculous blast of rainbow light or anything, but the moment Killian’s lips touch Liam’s brow, Emma feels the world settle in a way she can’t quite explain but attributes to magic, to things setting to rights again, to a sleeping soul breathing a sigh of relief.

It’s not like the movies. Liam doesn’t gasp and sit up in bed, eyes flying open in a cinematically dramatic moment. But he squeezes Killian’s hand where it clasps his, and that’s enough to signify drastic improvement.

“Liam?” he asks, so hopefully, and while the elder Jones may still be unconscious, they all watch as his hand tightens around Killian’s. It’s conscious movement at last, and with that realization, the room becomes jubilant, exploding in a chorus of cheers.

There’s hugging and smiling and they may all be tired but Elsa lets out a little joyful screech, and it’s probably a miracle they’re not all kicked out. Somehow, Emma finds herself in Killian’s arms, and he’s smiling that smile again and there are tears in both their eyes and his face is just so close—

—and she kisses him.

It’s not planned, not at all, but her lips meet his and he’s kissing her right back, and God, she could get lost in this if not for the fact—

—if not for the fact that he’s only doing this because she saved his brother.

It’s like a bucket of cold water, that realization, and Emma steps back with wide, horrified eyes to find Killian looking at her with an unfocused gaze.

“Swan—” he begins, but Emma’s not willing to hear where that sentence ends - hear the excuses and the apologies and the buts. Almost before she knows it, she’s backing away until she’s out the door and into the hallway.

And then, Emma Swan runs.

------

She knows she’s really fucked up when even Elsa comments about her desperate exit.

“I know I’m not one to comment on others’ love lives,” she says, “but that was quite harsh, Emma. We might know about all your… let’s say struggles with dating, but the poor boy was just left there in a daze without any idea why you had booked it out of there.”

Emma really hates the picture that puts in her head, of a sad Killian just standing there with that stunned look on his face melting into confusion and disappointment. There’s a shock of guilt that accompanies that vision, but she does her best to push it aside. It was a moment of weakness on both their parts; it didn’t actually mean anything. Killian was undoubtedly just so happy that something had finally worked, which led him to reciprocate… whatever Emma’s excuse is. She’s still not entirely sure. Anyways, it was surely just a one-time thing. Her usefulness to him is effectively over, now that Liam is firmly on the road to recovery; they likely won’t ever cross paths again, now that there’s not any real reason for them to.

Of course, that’s not strictly true. Emma may not be having anything to do with the Jones brothers, and Regina is not enough of a people person to willingly pursue any further friendship without measurable advantage to herself, but Elsa and Belle are much better people who still stop by the hospital with dinner and check up on how both men are doing. It’s how Emma gets updates on Liam’s condition - how he finally opened his eyes and properly woke up two days after their breakthrough, how he’s still tired and healing and a bit out of it, but how the doctors expect him to make a full recovery, against all odds. By all accounts, he’s starting to get antsy, and Emma hopes he’ll be allowed home soon for both men’s sake.

“He asks about you, you know,” Belle contributes, and Emma can’t even pretend to not know who she’s talking about. “Whenever we walk in the room, he perks up for a moment until he realizes you haven’t come with us. Really, Emma, you’re being ridiculous.”

And she probably is. She definitely is. But she can’t get over the fear that Killian isn’t really interested in her, just in what she can do.

The weeks pass by. Elsa and Belle keep inviting her to the hospital, insisting Liam wants to meet her and Killian would just love to see her, but Emma dodges and avoids and works more hours, just to have an excuse not to go.

(She’d tried Mary Margaret at first, who had relished spending more time with Emma until she realized it was an emotional avoidance ploy. And then she’d flatly refused to be a part of it.)

At the end of the month, Liam gets to go home to the apartment he and Killian apparently share, and Emma gets to hear all about it. Elsa and Liam have apparently taken a liking to one another, which has resulted in even more visits and even more updates on all things Jones Brothers and the promise of an actual date once Liam’s well enough to drive them both to a nice restaurant. Emma’s happy for her friend, she truly is - Elsa deserves the world, after everything she’s been through - but it really throws a wrench in Emma’s plans to just never see Killian Jones again. If his brother and her roommate start dating, it’s a little inevitable that their paths will cross eventually, for better or worse.

Their latest ploy - ok, it’s not a ploy, but each invite Emma has to dodge feels like an individual attack on her resolve in some larger evil plan, so she’s sticking with ploy - is a welcome home party for Liam. Emma declines, almost out of habit now - she’ll find work or something to occupy herself, give herself a plausible excuse. The thing is, if she was to show up, it probably wouldn’t be that big a deal. They’d all talk and laugh and have a good time. Elsa’s trying to figure out what flavors of ice cream she’ll bring, and there’s sure to be cake. But Emma’s a wuss, and she might have feelings for Jones, hesitant as she is to admit it. She’s not sure she could take it if she spends an entire night in his company where he treats her as nothing more than a friend or, even worse, some sort of business associate. So she’ll stay home instead, thank you very much.

And she does have plans. They just involve executing a honeytrap on the latest jumper instead of socializing at some party. The problem is, those plans don’t last nearly as long as she anticipates, and Emma finds herself back home at the Tudor much sooner than she planned, sporting a number of scrapes from where she had to tackle her man to the ground outside the coffee shop. She’s barely limped inside and taken off her shoes, flipping through the mail in the kitchen, before she hears the awful dramatic doorbell that some relative of Elsa’s had installed God-only-knows when. Groaning audibly, she hauls herself downstairs again and throws the door open much more forcibly than she really needs to. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for whatever pitch this is,” she begins, fully ready to give whatever door-to-door salesman is bothering her a piece of her mind—

—only to find one Killian Jones standing on her doorstep.

The guilt hits her immediately as his face shifts through sheepishness to shock and then on to anger.

“You are avoiding me!” he accuses, and it takes every bit of willpower Emma possesses not to physically flinch at the words. Even if they are true. “I thought I’d come check on you tonight when you didn’t show, and thought I’d find you sick or working, or any reasonable excuse, but you’re flat-out avoiding me!”

His anger hurts, somewhat, and makes her feel guilty, but at the same time, those are fighting words. And Emma Swan has never been one to back down from a fight. Defenses raised, she shoots back with all the vitriol she can muster, “So what if I am? Most people would get the hint, or figure there’s a reason.”

“Well, as the one being avoided, I think I have a right to know the reason!” he demands, before softening once again, seemingly suddenly aware of his tone. “Look, Emma, it’s just… we kissed. And I thought it was a pretty good kiss,” he adds bashfully, scratching behind his ear in that way Emma has always secretly found adorable. “But then you just… ran off. And have conveniently not shown hide nor hair ever since. Did I do something wrong?” By the end, he’s almost painfully earnest, and Emma feels that knife of guilt dig just that little bit deeper. She still needs to stand strong, to protect herself from heartbreak, but there’s no reason for her to hurt him in the process, so she finally shakes her head, all the while avoiding his eyes.

“What then?” he asks, as gently as the situation allows. “Because I’m observant, Swan, and this? This is avoiding me.”

There’s a pause. A great, big, heavy pause. How do you tell a person the fears of your heart, when the greatest fear in your heart is letting anyone in?

He plows on, nonetheless, in the face of her silence. “I like you, you know?” he says softly, scratching behind his ear again, a tell-tale nervous tic. “I don’t know if that kiss meant something to you, but it did to me. Because I think you’re brilliant and fierce and… I like you.”

“You just like the magic,” Emma mutters. She can tell the moment her words process in his mind because he suddenly stares at her like she’s grown a second head.

“You think I just like you because you can wield magic?” he asks incredulously. He almost looks insulted, oddly enough, and it takes Emma somewhat aback. “Emma, that’s… that’s ridiculous, really. You really thought I only valued your company for what you can do, and not who you are? I mean, maybe at first…” he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, and she’d almost think it was cute, if she wasn’t anxiously waiting for his next words. “But then I got to know you, Swan, and you were much more than that. So brave, and determined, and… honestly, anyone who’s only interested in you for your magic is an idiot, love. You’re so much more than that. Well, and you treat it like some kind of bloody ridiculous hobby instead of the power it probably could be.” Killian laughs at his own joke, and Emma cracks into a slight smile too, unable to resist the sound. “But no, Swan, I find you fascinating for many, many reasons, and your magic is the very least of them.”

Tentatively, Emma meets his eyes, seeking confirmation. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t disappoint, smiling and nodding back at her with a chuckle. “Aye. You’re a marvel, Emma Swan.” His smile is so wide, so full of hope and truth, that try as she might, Emma can’t find a reason to doubt him.

She’s never been good at this part of relationships - making the first move when things are still so tentative and unsure. But she can sense that Killian’s nervous too, can practically feel it rolling off him in waves, and that gives her an unexpected boost of confidence. This doesn’t have to be like magic, be precise and exact or the whole thing will fall apart and your nose probably will turn green. It doesn’t matter how either one of them approaches this, just that they do.

So Emma gathers all the courage she can muster, and steps forward to catch his lips with hers, creating a different kind of magic altogether.

It’s a little bit fanciful (okay, a lot a bit fanciful), but Emma can’t help but feel like there’s an energy that flows between her body and his, between her soul and his, as their lips move together - at first softly and gently, but then deeper, stronger, more passionate as lips open and tongues caress and they both lose themselves in the special magic of a first kiss. Some might call it fate, or soulmates; Emma’s not quite ready to call it anything yet.

(But she very well might be some day, perhaps sooner than she thinks.)

They’re both breathing heavily when they finally separate, foreheads still touching as if connected by invisible threads.

“That was…” he begins, a smile creeping over his face.

Emma quickly interrupts. “If you say magical, I swear to God, I’ll smack you, don’t think I won’t.” She tries to look stern, but honestly, her kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair from where Killian had slipped his hand into her curls probably ruin that illusion.

“Of course not, darling,” he good-naturedly replies with a smile and what she suspects is a suppressed laugh. “Who am I to challenge a witch?”

------

Killian Jones has no magic to speak of.

But he’s a great cook and patient with all the chaos only a house full of witches can conjure up - not to mention, a damn good kisser - so Emma’s more than willing to overlook that fact.

Magic and Killian don’t always mix - he’s particularly not a fan of how Emma sets off the magical equivalent of firecrackers under their bed for April Fool’s Day - but overall, he’s so casual about the whole topic that Emma wants to laugh at herself for believing even for a second that he’d have a problem with any of it.

Things change, of course. Their relationship strengthens and solidifies and eventually relocates to their own place when Elsa decides they could all use a bit more privacy (especially since things have gotten serious between the elder Jones and herself), but their relationship is the constant. That little corner within Emma that hosts her magic simultaneously boils and settles every time she and Killian are together.

Killian Jones couldn’t perform a spell if he tried. But sometimes, curled into his side in bed and feeling her heart glow with happiness as he pulls her just that little bit closer, Emma Swan thinks he possesses his own magic all the same, one born of the feelings they share for one another.

And that’s a witchcraft more powerful than any spellbook.

[gaijinschoollibrarian]

Manga and Women: Buying Manga for School Libraries in the #MeToo Era

When I talk to other school librarians about manga and anime, many of them voice a similar concern: the manga they see has horrible treatment of women. These are not invalid concerns, especially as school librarians are working to make their collections more inclusive and affirming. And when students are requesting series that depict sexual harassment and assault as comedic occurrences (I'm looking at you, Seven Deadly Sins), or at the very least, series which treat women solely as sexual or romantic beings, I can't blame my colleagues for their hesitation.

That said, there's a lot to unpack with this debate. There are elements of Japanese society that are inherently different from American society. Many school librarians also know nothing of the distinctions between genres of manga, or have only heard of what's most popular among their patrons. Manga is often seen as the way to get boys reading, and so masculine titles tend to be extremely popular for purchasing. What I'm going to do is try to unpack these things, piece by piece, to try and provide some context- and maybe show my peers that the stereotypes of shōnen manga are not all there is out there to purchase.

Societal Differences in the Perception of Gender

If we all work from the supposition that gender is a social construct, then perhaps it might be easier to understand that Japan's constructs are similar and different to Western constructs. Japanese media can come across as being both freer and stricter with gender roles. Here are a few things you need to understand about Japan in relation to women:

Japan is ranked 110 out of 144 countries on the World Economic Forum's annual report on gender equality.

There is only one female member of the Japanese Cabinet.

As of 2017, only 3.4% of executives in Japan were women.

The ratio of female-to-male physicians in Japan is 21%.

Japan has been trying to improve the standing of women in society, but it's been difficult.

Japan has a long history of having a traditional gender balance of labor wherein women are expected to raise children and take care of housekeeping, while men are expected to work. Japanese society generally has a very heavy line down the center in this division, much more so than there currently is in the West. Since 1986, the Equal Employment Opportunity Law has been in place to try and provide more gender equity in the workplace in Japan, but it's been a struggle. Part of the problem is that there was no penalty for employers who did not adhere to the changes.

Japan, also, has a serious problem with the way it handles and reports sexual harassment and assault. Certain occurrences which Western women consider assault are not necessarily seen as such by Japanese women. In her article, "Shifting attitudes toward sexual violence in Japan", Masami Ito describes her experiences:

When I was in junior high school, a young man who lived in the same apartment building flashed me in an elevator, blocking the entrance as he did so.

When I was in college, a middle-aged man cornered me in the box seat on a train and masturbated in front of me.

When I was in my mid-20s, a man pressed himself against me in the aisle of a convenience store and then followed me home. I had to call my father for help that time.

And, of course, I have been groped on trains many, many times.

Until recently, I never considered these incidents to be sexual assaults, nor did I ever view myself as a victim. I told myself that such things happened all the time and I was never physically hurt. I compared my experiences to those of other women and I considered myself lucky.

In Japan, there's even a word for men who grope women on crowded trains: chikan. Tokyo's Metropolitan Police Department reported 1,750 cases of groping on the trains. (I attempted to find figures on this particular crime in NYC from the same year, but was unable to find any exact report of figures.) It's such a common occurrence, it's often a plot point in manga. In My Love Story!! the protagonist meets his future girlfriend by stopping a man from groping her.

I want to be clear, and maybe the panels of My Love Story!! do something to show this, that the problems of sexual harassment in Japan are seen as problems by people in the country. There are Japanese feminists and citizens who want things to change. Last year, the BBC released a documentary titled Japan's Secret Shame, which went into the experiences of three different women who were raped in Japan. It's not available at the moment, but if you can find a way to see it, it may give insight into the issue if you want to know more.

Shōnen, Shōjo, and So Much More

The complaints I hear the most are in relation to what is known as shōnen manga. Shōnen is geared toward boys between ages 12 and 18. There's a reason this stuff flies off the shelf with our male-identifying patrons: it's literally made for them. The longest running series in Japan are shōnen manga, and are household names here in the West (you've probably heard of Dragonball Z, I presume). Typically, these are high-action, hyper-masculine stories. And while there are exceptions, such as My Hero Academia, there's a large history of "fan service" in shōnen. There's also some pretty big issues with some of the creators of shōnen titles.

For example, the author of Rurouni Kenshin was found with an enormous backlog of child pornography DVDs. Not only did he have this material, he admitted his attraction to young girls. His manga is currently still in publication, after he paid a fine of only ¥200,000 (about $1,800 USD). No, I am not joking.

I don't want you to come away from this thinking shōnen manga is evil, by the way. What I want is for fellow school librarians to know that what they're seeing is just a fraction of what manga has to offer. Some shōnen has female protagonists (Yotsuba&! features a mostly female cast with little to no fan service, as its main character is a child). And a lot of women and girls read shōnen.

Shōjo manga is the counterpart to shōnen: manga written for girls between the ages of 12 and 18. Honestly, shōjo can have its own issues. Some titles feature girls whose identities revolve solely around romance or a desire to get married and make babies. Kidnapping and threats of sexual assault can be normal (the idea being that these girls need to be saved by their boyfriends, who frequently are much older than them). There's a whole slew of manga revolving around schoolgirls having romantic relationships with their teachers. So, I also don't want you to think that being labeled shōjo makes the content automatically appropriate for students.

I recently reread a manga I loved as a teen, Ayashi no Ceres. It featured multiple rather explicit sex scenes and the main character dropping out of school to have a baby. It was an easy decision to select other series over that one, although I still consider it a classic. I leave it to students to select series with those sort of themes at their own pace through alternate pathways such as the public library, bookstores, or manga apps.

However, I do want to point out that shōjo manga is a category in which feminine fantasy and identity is often at the forefront. And while this is the case, there are many shōjo manga which widely appeal to boys. Titles which spring to mind are Escaflowne and Magic Knight Rayearth.

There are other categories as well: seinan (for adult men), josei (for adult women), kodomo (for children), and gekiga (for adults, with a more "artistic" and "literary" reputation). The differentiation between adults and teens has more to do with the difficulty of the Japanese than the content or target demographic. Gekiga is probably the most "different", because it strives to be taken more seriously. (I have a plan to talk more in-depth about each category in their own posts).

Look For Women

When purchasing, if you are looking to move away from the pure moe that is popular among certain titles, I'd suggest looking for women who are mangaka. The likelihood that problematic behavior will be present is lower, and honestly, women creators can always use the boost. Series that are beloved by boys are written by women: Fullmetal Alchemist, Inu-Yasha, and Ranma 1/2 are examples (admittedly, the latter two were both written by Takahashi Rumiko).

Note: I kept this fairly pared down, so if you'd like to know more or have any questions, please don't hesitate to comment. If you would like me to go more in depth on any topic, please let me know, and I will do an expansion in a future blog. I have some deeper dives planned, but if I know of a direction people specifically want me to go, I’ll tackle it.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 11

read on ao3

It takes forty minutes to get to the library and two subway changes. Alec is still woefully early, though, walking up to the front steps a quarter of an hour before they’d agreed to meet. He pulls out his phone to check his notifications and his phone is silent. There hasn't been any texts from Magnus today and Alec has the errant thought that Magnus might be avoiding him, that he might not show up this evening.

He’s glaring at his phone, already planning on just how embarrassing it will be to walk back to his place with Simon still hanging about, when a voice breaks through.

“Good evening, darling. Looks like we both like to be early,” a smooth voice says.

Alec looks up and sees Magnus. His breath stutters.

Magnus is wearing black trousers cuffed at the ankle with black ankle boots with a low heel. His shirt is a swirling mix of gold and red and there’s matching blond highlights running through his hair. His makeup is sharp and flawless. Alec’s brain short circuits a bit and there’s a beat of silence before he comes back online, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

“Magnus, hey. You’re looking well.” He fumbles a bit at the end, but Magnus’s smile doesn’t falter as he gives Alec a once-over.

Magnus waves a head dismissively. “No need to flatter me. I’ve been running around all day like a chicken with its head cut off. My students were exceptionally needy today. Inconvenient that it was today of all days, but it’s good to know that they do care a bit more than their blank faces suggest most of the time.”

Alec lets out a breath as he processes Magnus’s words. There’s a pinch of relief knowing that Magnus was busy. He wasn’t actively ignoring Alec. Although in the next second that turns to sardonic self-chastisement. They’re barely friends and Alec is worried about Magnus losing interest? This isn’t high school and he needs to get a grip.

The two of them stare at each other for a long minute, a bubble of stillness as people bustle around them, heading home from work or out to dinner.

Alec shakes himself and nods towards the glass doors of the library.

“Ready to head inside?”

Magnus nods once and smiles, turning with a bit of flair, and holds the door open for Alec when they reach it.

Alec swoons a little at such a simple gesture and tries to ignore how such a little thing makes him warm.

The New York Public Library is buzzing. There are children in one area enthralled with story-time and teens sitting on their phones looking disillusioned and bored in the lobby. There are a number of adults standing at the checkout line and as they walk through the library towards the event room, Alec’s eyes catch on a book display.

Alec keeps up with a handful of writers, is passionate about a range of topics. The display looks to be about new nonfiction and as he looks over the book covers, his gaze lands on a name. Magnus, who was keeping stride with him, falters imperceptibly as he, too, takes a closer look at the line of books.

Alec takes in the title as he picks it up.

European Conquerors: The Rise of European Imperialism in the Seventeenth Century.

It looks to be an anthology and Magnus’s name is the last one, in the place where the most well-known academics are always put, as a sort of literary coup de grace. Alec doesn’t know Magnus’s last name, but it’s not like his is a well-known first name.

Alec repeats it in his head. Magnus Bane. Looking over at the man in question, he’s fiddling with his ear cuff, studiously not returning Alec’s questioning gaze.

There’s a moment of silence as Alec reads the synopsis, glances through the book. Finally, he looks up to see Magnus’s eyes already on him.

His lips quirk up as he raises a brow. “I mean, obviously you’re a brilliant professor, but I didn’t know just how well-regarded you were in your field.”

Magnus shakes his head a little, smiles as he sees Alec tuck the copy under his arm. He starts speaking as they continue to make their way to the meeting room.

“And why would you, darling? We travel in very different circles. You might be well-read but I’ve chosen a career as an academic. I don’t dedicate my life to things that I’m not very good at.”

Alec huffs out a laugh, hums a little in agreement. It’s only a minute later that they’re entering the room. It’s one of the library’s bigger meeting rooms, with a projector hook-up on the ceiling and the screen already pulled down. It’s only about a third full, as they’re just under half an hour early, and Alec faces a bit of a conundrum.

It’s impossible to deny that if anyone saw him, this could turn into a circus within minutes. Alec has had to give up a lot of things for his career but he loves going to lectures and museums and movie theatres-- he’s just gained a better strategy these past few years.

Seeming to pick up on Alec’s thoughts, Magnus falls back a step, following Alec as he makes his way to a row in the middle at the very end, opposite from the door, by the window. They sit down on the hard plastic chairs and there’s a moment of silence.

Alec is overtly aware of Magnus sitting right next to him, so close that their shoulders brush together. He smells his cologne-- sandalwood-- and is a little overwhelmed.

Alec can’t remember the last time a guy affected him like this.

He doesn’t have long to think about the repercussions of that, though, because Magnus turns in his chair, angling towards him, and gives him a less-than-subtle once-over.

“So, darling, tell me. How did such a famous celebrity become so interested in scholarly pursuits?”

Alec laughs a little. “It’s a pretty boring story, really. I started singing when I was sixteen and by the time I graduated high school, I was lined up to tour and record for the next few years. It seemed liked every moment was taken up with making sure I stayed relevant back in those days. College was out of the question, but I was class valedictorian. I was a giant nerd, really, and I figured just because I couldn’t get a degree didn’t mean that I couldn’t learn on my own time, about things I was really interested in. Reading, and documentaries, really became an escape from the crazy world I was not only catapulted into, but was kind of made the king?

“I could learn about Chinese emperors from thousands of years ago or how the brain works. I love history, though, because it’s just so vast, but I dabble in a lot of different areas. Plus, I like to read fiction. Honestly, you name it, I’ve probably read a book on it. I guess, reading is just a passion of mine. I always like to pop into bookstores in every country I tour and I’ve held a NYPL library card since I could walk. I make sure to keep it renewed and while it’s gotten harder the past few years, when I’m in the city for a while, I always visit. They have really excellent collections and their programming is always full of interesting events.”

Alec breaks off, realizing that he’s been talking nonstop. He looks over at Magnus, expecting to see glazed eyes and regret. However, Magnus is looking at him attentively, smiling just a bit.

Alec gets a little lost in those eyes, such a deep brown, and jolts a little when Magnus starts talking.

“I’m proud of you, Alexander,” he says warmly. “It couldn’t have been easy being so young and then thrust into such a world. It’s great to have that anchor that lets you take a step away every once in a while.”

Alec flushes a little, uncomfortable with the praise. He’s received every possible compliment in every combination, but just a few kind words from Magnus has heat building in his cheeks.

He clears his throat.

“Thanks, Magnus. I know it’s not as impressive as you-- a professor at Columbia for fuck’s sake-- but I enjoy it. Speaking of, what made you go into academia?”

Magnus barks out a laugh. “Well, I promise you I never intended to follow this path. In high school, I admit I was a bit of a dismal student. I aced my classes but it was purely because I didn’t have to work for it. School was easy and it left me with entirely too much time to get up to no good. I hung out with a bit of a bad crowd who thought school and homework was ‘lame’ and useless. I usually felt like a criminal working on my papers and assignments in secret.

“It was my senior year and by the grace of God, I had a teacher who took an interest in me. She had to be seventy-- she wore those tortoise shell glasses that hang from the neck-- and she told me that I had potential. Now being a snot-nosed teenager, I curled my lip at the motivational speech and dashed off to meet my friends. Yet, she didn’t give up. Slowly but surely, I started pulling away from those friends and staying after school with her. She would grade papers while I worked on homework and, eventually, college applications. She must have written one hell of a recommendation because I landed a spot at Yale and I haven’t looked back.”

Alec takes in what Magnus has just said, impressed.

“It had to be hard moving to a brand new city, right? Especially since you’d left your old friends behind even before graduation.”

Magnus hums, thinking. “I think it would have been harder if I wouldn’t have made such great friends right off the bat. My roommate freshman year was a transplant from London and while he’s insufferable, he’s also the best friend I could ever ask for-- just don’t tell him that. We both teach at Columbia and it’s been, my God, over ten years now that we’ve known each other.”

“Wait, where are you from,” Alec asks, backtracking a little as he realizes that he’d just assumed that Magnus had upended his life to move to university.

Magnus smirks. “New York born and bred, darling. I live in Brooklyn, now, and honestly can’t imagine myself living anywhere else. I went to England for my doctorate and while lovely, there’s just something about this city that I don’t think I can escape-- or that I would even if I could.”

Alec’s just opening his mouth to ask a question-- the more he knows, the more he wants to know-- when a voice comes on over the speaker.

There’s a few seconds of feedback from the microphone before it’s clear.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the New York Public Library. This evening we have Dr. Lorenzo Rey who’s here to talk about the history of fascism and its role in today’s political climate. Lorenzo is an adjunct professor at NYU and wrote his thesis on the topic.”

There’s a smattering of applause and Alec sinks down a little in his seat, trying his best to remain unobtrusive. He claps a few times but notices that Magnus doesn’t, that he just recrosses his legs and leans back in his seat. It’s a little incongruous that he’d be so rude, especially given everything Alec’s seen so far about the man, but he shrugs it off. Not everyone needs to applaud all of the time, after all.

Dr. Rey talks for an hour. His presentation is informative and Alec wishes he’d thought to bring a notebook to write down some of the more interesting tidbits. He has a tendency to speak directly from the slides-- breaking off only to share personal anecdotes that are probably meant to be funny and endearing, but all in all it’s not the worst lecture Alec’s ever been to.

The speaker opens the floor up for questions and Magnus’s hand immediately shoots up, along with a half a dozen others. If Alec didn’t know better, he’d think that this Dr. Rey was trying to ignore Magnus, as he calls on every other person before finally acknowledging him.

Magnus hasn’t gotten impatient or frustrated. He’s been calmly keeping his hand raised, waiting to be called on.

With an infinitesimal pause that Alec doubts anyone but the three of them notice, Magnus starts speaking. His question appears to have several parts and though Alec is obviously no slouch, he can hardly keep up with the esoteric language.

Magnus is the picture of earnest, appearing like the proverbial scholar just trying to gain answers to a topic of extreme interest. Alec detects the edges of a smirk curling on Magnus’s lips, though, and wonders what he’s missing.

Rey takes a few long minutes to answer, stumbling over his words a few times. At this point Alec isn’t paying too much attention to the content, trying to figure out the dynamics and hidden meanings between these two.

There’s a pause and Alec shakes his head a little, turning in to see that Dr. Rey is apparently finished with his response. Alec can’t be sure but it looks like he’s sweating.

Alec looks over at Magnus and sees nothing but professional calm, though he can’t deny that smug tilt of his head.

The program ends just a minute later and they stay sitting while everyone else floods out, some people walking up to the front of the room to speak to the presenter more directly. It had been a packed room-- over a hundred people-- and once there’s only a dozen or so people lingering, Alec stands up, Magnus following suit.

“So,” Alec starts. “What did you think of the lecture?”

Magnus hums, narrowing his eyes a little as he thinks. “There was a lot of good information. Overall, I’d say he did a competent job.”

They walk out of the room into the busy center of the library. There are people everywhere and Alec’s heart warms-- he loves libraries and it’s good to see one thriving.

He looks over at Magnus as they start walking towards the self checkout kiosk-- Alec still needs to get the book he’d picked up before the program.

“Competent? That’s more generous than I expected. I’m fairly sure I detected some tension between the two of you.”

Chuckling, Magnus responds, “What you detected, darling, was professional rivalry. That I’m winning. Really, it’s not even a rivalry. It’s just Rey oozing his envy all over the place.”

Magnus breaks off and gives Alec a look as he realizes where they’re headed. His eyes dart down to the book that Alec’s been holding onto since they walked in the door.

“You don’t have to actually checkout that book, you know. I’m sure you have better things on your reading list than a dry anthology about imperial conquests several centuries ago.”

Alec just hums a little as he reaches for his wallet, taking out his library card. “No, this has just moved to the number one spot. I won’t guarantee that I’ll read it all-- but I’m definitely going to at least read your chapter.” He throws an open grin over to Magnus.

There’s no response. Magnus just fiddles with that ear cuff and smiles a little, seemingly to himself. Alec quickly scans the book and takes his receipt before facing his new friend completely.

It’s just shy of eight and the sun’s still up. They’ve been together a little over two hours but Alec’s not ready for the evening to end. Magnus is quickly becoming an endless fascinating puzzle to him-- the more he knows, the more he wants to know. Magnus’s intense focus during the lecture was endearing and. . . a little hot, if he’s being honest with himself.

Sue him, he’s always been attracted to the smart ones. There’s just something about intelligence-- as long as it’s balanced out with warmth and humor-- that never fails to make him a little hot under the collar.

Clearing his throat, Alec chastises himself and reiterates that they are just friends. Nothing more. Magnus is looking at him expectantly and Alec says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t know what your schedule is like but if you don’t have a too early morning, we could get ice cream? I know this little mom and pop shop just a block or two over.”

Before Magnus can respond, Alec rushes out, “But, there’s no pressure obviously. We only agreed to the library part. Who knows, you might already have plans for the rest of the night.”

Magnus smiles at him and as they walk out of the library.

“I do have plans. It looks like there’s a little ice cream shop that I simply have to try,” he says with a grin.

Alec’s nerves settle a little and he nods, smiling back at this entrancing man before him. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

They start walking down the block. The streets are busy and the two of them stay close, walking in sync. Their hands brush together, once, and heat climbs up the back of Alec’s neck.

Neither one acknowledges it.

It’s only a few minutes later that Alec’s swinging open a cheery blue door, hears the faint tinkling of a bell chiming above their heads. Magnus nods once to thank Alec for holding the door open for him.

Alec’s studying him closely, gauging his reaction. The place only has four tables, all of them currently unoccupied. It’s really not trendy, just a hole-in-the-wall ice cream parlor that serves homemade ice cream-- the best he’s ever had. The decor is eccentric with jarring patterns and clashing colors. It’s hideous but fun and their flavors match the ambiance.

Magnus looks around for a moment before turning to Alec, who’s just inside the door.

“Well, darling, I have to admit that even when you said mom and pop, I wasn’t expecting a place so hidden away. I’ve probably walked right past this place a dozen times and never given it a second thought. It’s cute, though.” He laughingly grimaces. “In a kitschy sort of way, of course.”

Alec laughs. “Their decorating is a bit of a train wreck, but I love it. It really fits the owners.”

The two of them walk up to the counter and look over the dozen flavors displayed below. Against the back wall there’s a menu with a few other treats-- sundaes, blizzards, milkshakes, and some novelty desserts like frozen chocolate-covered bananas.

There are a few of the classics like vanilla and rocky road, but one reason Alec loves this place is because their offerings can be a little out of the box. There’s a lavender, pistachio rose, and even the ubiquitous chocolate and bacon. Alec shudders just thinking about trying that heinous flavor.

Magnus’s eyes are roving over the shop, looking at the ice cream and the menu, occasionally getting stuck at a newly seen piece of decor, when the door behind the counter swings open to reveal a graying man with two tattoo sleeves, a buzzcut, and a septum piercing.

The man laughs delightedly as he takes in his latest customers.

“If it isn’t Alec. Boy, it’s been too long since you showed your miserable face in these parts.”

Alec laughs as he walks closer to the counter, leaning over it to give the man a bear hug.

“Hey, Marv,” he says, pulling back. “I just got back from work and figured I’d stop by.”

He can feel Magnus’s eyes on his back but doesn’t pull his attention from Marv. There’s a minute of pleasantries before the bell above the front door chimes open and an elderly woman as round as she is tall walks in. She has to be eighty if she’s a day, but she has good bones-- she doesn’t look over sixty-five. She breaks into a smile as she takes in the customer at the register.

“Alec,” she cries and toddles forward. Alec meets her halfway, bending down to return her hug. She only comes up to his chest.

“Anna,” Alec says warmly. “Long time, no see.”

Anna slaps at his arm, playfully, as she glares at him. “A bit more than a long time. It has to be a year since you last graced our place with that handsome face.”

Smiling, Alec just offers, “You know how work is. You put your head down to finish a project and before you know it, it’s been months and you’re just catching up to real life.”

Both Anna and Marv laugh. “We know all about that, son. The first few years we owned this shop, we barely took enough time away to sleep.” He points a gnarled finger at Alec. “Just make sure you don’t run yourself ragged. You have to take time for the important things and fuck knows work isn’t that.”

Alec laughs a little and when he looks up, his eyes meet Magnus’s. Alec’s breath catches, just for a second. He doesn’t know what Magnus is thinking, but Alec can’t help but picture a life in the slower lane, even if it's just for a moment. He won’t ever leave the industry, but it does sound idyllic, imagining coming home from either a long day at the studio or from getting his ass handed to him from corporate execs, and there’s a man waiting for him with a soft kiss and lingering touch.

A man that looks suspiciously like Magnus.

The moment, whatever the hell it was, is broken in a second as Anna turns to Magnus and takes him in. She goes in for a hug and, though obviously surprised, Magnus returns it, smiling at Alec above her head.

She pulls back and pinches his arm, lightly, obviously admiring his muscles.

“Well, I see you brought a fella around, dear. It’s about time. God knows Marv and me have been wondering when you’d settle down with a nice man.”

Alec chokes on nothing.

“Uh, no, Anna. This is Magnus. He’s just a friend.”

Anna walks over to Marv, behind the counter, and they share a look. She throws on an apron and washes her hands before turning back to them.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

She smiles as she says it, but then she winks at Magnus and Alec wishes the ground would swallow him up.

Magnus truly is a friend, and while Alec can’t help but think of what it could be like to have more, he doesn’t want to scare Magnus off before they’ve finished hanging out for the first damn time.

Magnus takes in stride, just raises a brow to Alec before laughing it off. Alec knows it’s stupid, but he feels a little disappointed at Magnus’s obvious brush-off.

He rallies instantaneously and clears his throat. He tilts his head to Magnus, towards the tubs of ice cream, a silent question.

Magnus nods and they walk up to the register. Alec orders a double scoop of cookies n’ cream in a cup while Magnus chooses clementine pomegranate in a cone.

Alec pays, brushing off Magnus’s offer, and sits down at the table nearest the door. It’s in front of the window, a perfect opportunity to people watch as the sun starts to dip in the sky.

There’s a few minutes of silence as they get settled and take the first few tastes of their ice cream.

Finally, Alec can’t take it anymore.

“So, what do you think?”

Magnus takes another lick of his cone, tongue slowly trailing up the side where some had started to melt down, and hums.

Alec feels death.

“It’s delicious, of course. I should have known that you’d be right. This is definitely my new favorite dessert stop.”

Alec blinks a few times, trying to break his focus on Magnus’s mouth.

He grins. “I’m glad you like it. This is one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

“You’ll get no disagreement from me. How did you even hear about this place, darling?”

“I was just strolling through the city one morning, looking for inspiration. I had planned to write all day-- this was during recording for my fourth album-- and I saw this bright blue door tucked into an alley. I was curious, so I checked it out. They’re open twenty-four hours a day, and I just set my songbook on a table and walked up to order. It was fun and I thought that even if I didn’t get anything done for the day, I could enjoy some ice cream. Turns out, Marv and Anna were both working that day and I ended up talking to them for a few hours. They’re a hoot.”

Magnus takes another obscene lick and laughs. “I got that impression, really just from the shop.” He pauses, sucks some ice cream that’s dripped onto his thumb into his mouth.

Alec’s blood rushes south and he starts reciting lyrics from his first album as a distraction.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I get the impression that Marv and Anna don’t know that you’re famous.”

Alec huffs out a laugh, takes a breath. He’s comfortable answering this question.

“They don’t,” he says, bluntly. “I think they think I’m like a Wall Street broker or some shit. They just know I work a lot. Nothing else.”

Magnus studies Alec for a minute and Alec looks down at his ice cream a few seconds in, taking a few large spoonfuls as he waits for a response.

“It must be nice to be anonymous here,” Magnus says softly.

Alec’s gaze shoots up and his eyes bore into Magnus’s for a moment.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m used to being recognized anywhere I go. I like to savor the moments when I can just be, when I’m just one man among a million. It sounds like bullshit I know, but these simple times keep me sane.”

Magnus gets it. It’s only a piece of the bigger puzzle, a little hint at his life, but Magnus understands that his life isn’t completely his own. It’s nice to know there are still people who see Alec as a person.

He’d been running out of hope.

Magnus seems uncharacteristically fidgety for a minute, his hand lingering in the air before returning to the table in a loose fist.

He smiles at Alec.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Alec immediately nods. “Of course. I know we just met and that we’re new friends, but I hope that we can be friends long-term, Magnus. I like hanging out with you and hope we can do something again.”

Magnus finishes his cone and stands up to throw the last of it in the trash. When he comes back to the table, he’s smiling, softly.

He’s beautiful, Alec thinks.

“I like hanging out with you, too, Alexander. I want to be friends with you. I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t see something worth pursuing.”

He’s probably grinning stupidly but Alec can’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

“Great. I’m glad we’re on the same page, Magnus.”

It’s quiet, both of them taking in the night, watching people rush by outside, as Alec finishes his own ice cream. This quiet is nice. It’s different than what he’s used to. Alec loves silence when he’s by himself but he’s found that when he’s with other people, there’s a constant need to fill the space. Not by him, but whoever’s he’s with always talks. They can’t just stand still for a moment and enjoy the peace. It’s by turns saddened and pissed him off. These days, it’s just annoying when someone won’t shut up.

He’s glad Magnus can enjoy the quiet, too.

Eventually, they stand up and head out the door, Alec leaving a hundred on the table after Magnus is outside.

He hurries to catch up to him and breathes in the cool air. There’s not quite as many people out now. It’s just Alec and Magnus standing still as people walk past them.

It’s a moment Alec savors, commits to memory. This is the first time he’s been with anyone new in a strictly platonic sense in longer than he cares to remember. It fills his chest with warmth to know that there’s potential here for a real connection, no matter what kind.

His thoughts break off as he hears Magnus clear his throat.

“So, darling, I was thinking we could meet for lunch one day next week. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I’ll probably be living at the university next week, but I’d still like to make some time to see you again.”

Alec nods, probably more enthusiastically than strictly needed. “Yeah, that sounds great. What day works for you? I’m pretty flexible.”

Magnus’s eyes squint adorably as he thinks. “I have a standing lunch on Mondays and office hours all afternoon Tuesday. What about Wednesday? There’s this little diner on campus with the best burgers.”

“That sounds perfect. I do love a good burger, you know,” Alec says, delighted.

Magnus nods, dryly. “I had heard that, yes. What do you say to meeting there around 1:30? It’s summer, so campus is usually pretty dead. There shouldn’t be a lot of people there who could recognize you.”

Alec nods, gratefully. “That works. Thanks for thinking of that.”

“Of course, darling, goodness knows I don’t want to be responsible for a riot on Columbia’s grounds. Think of my reputation, after all,” he says with a joking grin.

“Right,” Alec rolls his eyes. “You’re just protecting yourself.”

There’s a beat of silence. This is usually the part where, if this was a date, Alec would lean in and kiss him. This isn’t a date, though, and Alec is at a loss. Thankfully, Magnus steps up.

“I had a wonderful time, Alec, but I need to be heading home. I have that dreaded 8 a.m. class in the morning and I need my beauty sleep if I’m to be presentable for my students. Goodnight, darling.”

Magnus takes a step backward, winking.

“See you, Wednesday.”

Alec nods, unspeaking, and Magnus turns around and heads down the street. He looks relaxed and confident and Alec notices a few heads turn as he passes a few people, street lights showing both men and women taking a second look.

Alec sympathizes.

Alec stands for a moment, letting the last few hours play over in his mind before he turns around and starts heading towards the subway station.

It’s been an exciting day but he’s ready to head home and crash.

He only hopes Simon is already asleep. He doesn’t want to be confronted with an endless string of questions, no matter how well-intentioned.

This thing-- this friendship-- with Magnus is so new and so are the feelings it’s dredging up. Alec wants to sit on tonight for a while. It feels so fragile. It’s just his, no one else's. He doesn’t think he wants anyone else to know about it yet.

It’s just him and Magnus for now, in a little bubble.

Alec smiles, content at the image.

He walks quietly down the block, minding his own business.

He doesn’t hear the flash of a camera down the block, doesn’t feel the eyes following him from the ice cream parlor.

[tipsycad147]

How To Start Your Own Pagan or Wiccan Study Group

With a study group, you and a few friends can learn together. Brand X / Getty

By Patti Wigington

Updated April 22, 2018

Many Pagans choose to form study groups rather than covens. The word "coven" implies some degree of hierarchy. In other words, there's someone nominally in charge who probably has more knowledge than everyone else. This is typically a High Priest or High Priestess. With a study group, however, everyone is on an equal playing field and can learn at the same pace. A study group is far more informal than a coven, and offers members a chance to learn about different traditions without making a major commitment to any of them. If you've ever thought about forming and facilitating a study group of your own, here are a few tips to keep in mind.

First, you'll need to decide how many people to include. Not only that, how many of them do you want? Do you want have a group of friends already in mind who are interested in learning about Wicca or some other form of Paganism? Or are you planning on starting a group with new people you haven't met before? Regardless, you'll need to figure out a manageable number of people to have in your group. Typically, any number up to about seven or eight works well; any more than that can become difficult to handle and organize.

If you're going to lead a study group, some basic people skills are critical. If you don't have them, plan on developing them soon.

You need to be able to manage discussions so that everyone has a chance to express their ideas.

You'll need to be able to help resolve conflicts if they arrive. In fact, don't be surprised if you end up as the group mediator.

You'll need to be able to help the group set goals and make decisions as needed, or to make those decisions and set those goals for them.

You'll need to be able to wrap things up when done, rather than letting people sit and linger for an additional two hours.

If you're going to seek out new people for your group, figure out how to find them. You could place an ad at your local Wiccan or Pagan shop, if you have one. Your local library or even your school (if you're a Pagan college student) might let you post a notice as well. Decide in advance whether or not your group will accept anyone who's interested, or if you're going to choose some members and reject others. If you're going to be picking people, you'll need to create some kind of application process. If you take anyone who wants to join, until all spots are filled, then you can maintain a "wait list" for people who want to join but didn't get in.

You'll need to figure out where to meet. If your group consists of people you already know, you might want to hold meetings at someone's home. You could even rotate among members' houses. If you're including new people in your group, you might prefer to get together in a public place. Coffee shops are a great place to do this. As long as you buy coffee and other items, most coffee shops are pretty great about letting you meet (please don't be one of those groups that shows up, drinks a lot of free water, and hogs all the good tables without paying for anything). Bookstores and libraries are also good places to meet, especially if you're going to be discussing books, although you should be sure to get permission first. Decide when to meet; usually once or twice a month is plenty, but really, it's going to depend on members' work and school and family schedules.

Are you going to simply be discussing books, or holding Sabbat rites as well? If you're going to hold Sabbat celebrations, someone will have to be responsible for leading them. Is there anyone in the group who could do that, or will you take turns creating and leading rituals? If everyone in the group is new to Paganism, it may be best to start off as just a book discussion group, and add rituals later when everyone has more knowledge and experience. Another option is to take turns creating and leading rituals, so everyone gets a chance to learn by doing.

Once you've figured out who's going to be in the group and arranged a meeting place, have a kickoff meeting. Each person should be able to speak freely about what they hope to gain from the group, and what sorts of things they'd like to read. The best thing to do is take turns with each person selecting a book and then leading a discussion on it. For example, if at the first meeting Susan says she'd really like to read Drawing Down the Moon, then everyone reads it before the second meeting. At that meeting, Susan can lead the discussion on Drawing Down the Moon.

When books are discussed, make sure everyone gets their fair share of time to say what they think. If you have one person who tends to dominate the meeting, the person leading the discussion can say in a friendly way, "You know, I like hearing your opinions on this, Hawk. Do you mind if Della tells us what she thought of the book?" Some groups have a structured format for discussion topics, others have a more informal method where everyone just talks whenever they feel like. Decide which works best for your group.

Finally, make sure everyone's needs are being met. If there's someone who really really really wants to learn about feminist Wicca, and in ten meetings you haven't read a single book about feminist Wicca, that person's needs are not being met. On the other hand, if one person is choosing all the books to be read, you may need to intervene and give the other members a chance to make a selection. Make sure you've got a variety of titles and topics to choose from.

The most important thing is that the group should be enjoyable for everyone. If someone feels like reading a book is a chore, or "homework," then maybe your group isn't the right one for them. Make sure everyone's having fun–and if they're not, find out how to change that. Ultimately, you'll end up with an experience everyone can learn and grow from. If you're really lucky, you'll meet some people you like enough to form a coven with later on.

Tips:

Rather than having people simply say about a book, "It was good" or "I hated it," come up with a list of questions. These could include things like "Why did you like this book?" or "What did you learn about the author?" or "How has this book affected your practice of Wicca?"

Scour used bookstores for multiple copies of the same title; it can save everyone money in the long run.

Keep a list of books the group has read, and books that people WANT to read.

https://www.learnreligions.com/start-your-own-pagan-study-group-2562611