#the box said made to last and then in small print it said guaranteed for one year

[deadlifts-and-deadlines]

I know a lot of people feel this way right now, but I am definitely heading into an underconsumption era. Everything is so expensive. There’s so much stuff everywhere and most of it is crap. It just all feels gross right now.

I’ve always been a quality over quantity person but I feel like the quality of things is starting to lack to the point where so many purchases just aren’t worth it anymore!

[thatotherfooltheycallweaver]

Another test

A completely different fic that im working on

Tuesday afternoons are always oddly slow, regardless of the location Cordelia found herself in. Earlier that morning, her brother had asked her to take on the role of his receptionist for a few days, as the woman who usually worked at the front desk of his office was unable. She sat at the desk, reorganizing papers out of complete boredom. Men had been coming in and out all day, but she felt like there was nobody she could talk to. She was more than happy to help whenever she was needed, but it was, in her mind, ridiculous that there was nothing to do. With a sigh, she tapped her fountain pen against the loose papers--schedules, notes, and other things--it almost took on a pointillistic look on the page. She leaned on the desk before noticing that her hair was a bit of a mess and started trying to pin stray strands back into place--she knew she should have been more careful when she was doing her hair that morning. She hated having her it pinned up, but attempted to be more professional, for her brother’s sake. She had heard rumors of a baronet all the way from England--she couldn’t remember if they had specified from where in that country--would be visiting Buffalo for the time being. A baronet, no less. That title was uncommon enough to warrant questions, as nobody she spoke to understood exactly what it meant. She made it a point to ask her friend, Edith, later--she would likely know. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open and shut. A tall man dressed in all black walked in, carrying a wooden case. The only other visible color on him was the silver chain of a pocket watch. He removed his top hat as he approached the desk, revealing short, dark, slicked-back hair under it. His eyes met hers for a moment and he smiled.

“Good afternoon, miss. I’m looking for a Mr. Baker. I have an appointment, though I suspect I’m a bit early.” Cordelia looked through the papers to find if there was something written down. “It’s for Thomas--ah, I’ve a card, my apologies.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. Printed across it, in neat black ink, was the name ‘Sir Thomas Sharpe’ and the title of Baronet under it. She had no idea how accurate the rumors would have been, but each of them mentioned he was attractive. They were inaccurate, as none of them could accurately capture how handsome the gentleman before her truly looked. Though tempted to keep him in the lobby until it was time for him to go back to speak to her brother for answers--she was curious, wanting to know more about him--she decided against it.

“My brother wouldn’t mind if you went back early, actually. If you’re ready to, of course.”

“Really?” He asked, a bit surprised. “Yes, miss, I am ready. Where do I go?”

“I can show you.” She stood, deciding against prying for information and resigning to interrogating her brother later--she didn’t want to risk seeming nosy or inconsiderate. “My name is Cordelia Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Baker.” He nodded with a smile. They reached the end of the hall and she knocked on the doorway.

“I’ll be right there.” A voice from within called.

“I wish you the best of luck.” She looked at Thomas, smiling.

“Thank you.” His eyes met hers for a moment. “I might just need it.”

“I have full confidence that everything will go well for you.” There was a look in his eyes; as if he was unused to warm smiles and genuine words with no hope of recompense--no cynicism or idle words. He was unsure, for the moment, if it was how America simply operated...or if she was one of those rare, kind souls. The type that would set him free from all the horrors, all the burdens--he pushed the thoughts away from his mind, reassuring himself that he needed to take things one step at a time. Thomas brushed off his coat in an attempt to make himself at least feel more presentable. The door opened, and a man a little shorter than the Baronet was standing there. He had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a blue shirt with a tawny vest over it.

“Sir Sharpe.” He held out his hand to the dark-haired man. “I’m Anthony Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” Thomas shook his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, I truly appreciate it.” He let go, the shorter of the two opening holding the door to his office open, motioning for him to follow. Cordelia left, wanting to give them privacy if they wanted.

“Please, just call me Anthony.” He said with a smile, gesturing to the chair. “I don’t know what you plan, but do make yourself comfortable.” Thomas found it odd. Other investors had not been anywhere near as considerate, or kind. He did not understand it, but he wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity.

“I have a model. May I?” He asked, gesturing to the box.

“Of course.” Again, much to his surprise, Anthony actually picked up some of the papers and things to make a bit more room for him to work. He was ready to take notes and already seemed interested. As if he was half-expecting the redhead to change his mind, the baronet quickly set the small model up, taking the jar and box that was inside. The man across from him watched, allowing him to concentrate. Taking a breath, he did his best to steady his sudden nerves.

“The Sharpe clay mines have been royal purveyors of the purest scarlet clay since 1796. In its liquid form, it is so rich in ore and so malleable that it can produce the strongest bricks and tiles.” He gestured to the jar, left of the machine model.

“May I?” Anthony asked, gesturing to the smaller wooden box with a clay tile in it. Thomas nodded. “I've never seen anything that vibrant a shade of red in my life.” He mused, letting him continue explaining.

“Excessive mining in the last 20 years has caused most of our old deposits to collapse. This is a clay harvester of my own design. It transports the clay upwards as it digs deep.” He turned the machine on. “I have absolutely no doubt this machine will revolutionize clay mining as we know it.” Anthony looked at the machine, amazed.

“This is very impressive.” Thomas looked up, a bit caught off-guard, unused to compliments. Now he had to wonder if it was those two siblings, or it was the country.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Have you had a chance to test it, full-scale?”

“Not yet, but we’re very close. We’re hoping that with funding, it will work. I've built the harvester on my estate, but more parts would be needed to keep it running smoothly.” He explained.

“Of course, of course, my apologies. Do you happen to have schematics? Sketches?” He asked. “I would like to look into this more before I make a decision. I believe it will take a bit of time. Research and all that, I hope you understand.” Thomas nodded, a little surprised he got this far.

“Of course.” He nodded, grabbing a folder from the case. “I have everything right here.” He handed it over--inside were schematics, other information that would hopefully be useful.

“This is genuinely impressive--I apologize for repeating. It's just so well designed.” Anthony smiled for a moment. “I will have to look into it, though I can't make any promises.”

“I understand. It is a bit risky but I wholeheartedly believe it's worth it.”

“I will do what I can to respond quickly. How long are you still staying in Buffalo?"

“I believe we are--my sister and I--staying until autumn. I’m unsure of the exact dates. My sister hasn’t told me anything, yet.” Anthony nodded.

“Well, I can at least guarantee it won't take that long to get an answer.” He chuckled softly. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I do thank you for being here.” He stood. “It was nice to meet you. I'll have my sister…” He said that as if trying to show a bit of solidarity, or they at least had something in common. “...show you out." As if on cue, there was a rhythmic knock, a code of sorts. He got up and opened it. Cordelia was there. Thomas felt a little less uncomfortable...something about her, something about the way she carried herself.

“I swear I wasn't eavesdropping,” It was honest, but she was a bit nervous about how it came across. She pulled on her sleeve, letting out a soft snicker. “I just came by to drop off some letters for you. Including one from a certain Miss Cushing." She teased Anthony, who blushed a bit in embarrassment.

“Had it not been for witnesses…” He hissed. “I’ll trade you. Would you please show Sir Sharpe out?”

“Do I have to give you the letters?” He gave her a look and she handed them over, begrudgingly. Not that she didn’t want to spend the time with Thomas, she just wanted to see Anthony’s reaction.

“Shall I leave anything here for you to examine further?”

“No, thank you; if you want to take it, please do.” Thomas nodded, packing up the machine and carefully stowing the jar and box.

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

“And thank you for yours.” Anthony smiled, looking over his notes. The baronet looked at Cordelia with a soft smile. Her presence was almost comforting, in a way, he couldn’t quite explain it. She shut the door behind them both.

“Hello.” She greeted as she began to lead him back to the lobby. “How did it go?” She asked gently.

“I believe it went well--at least it seemed to.” He looked at her, tilting his head slightly. “Your brother is much kinder than others I’ve gone to.” He mused, finding the situation rather refreshing, in a way.

“Anthony loves listening to people talk, and their ideas. And from the look at the machine I got when you were putting it back in the case, it was rather interesting.” The comment caught Thomas off-guard. He wouldn’t have guessed a lady like her would have found his clay harvester fascinating. There was a level of intrigue they both felt, curiosity between strangers. The tall Englishman who dressed in dark clothing and spoke with a gentle elegance she was unfamiliar with; the American woman in rich lavender who took an interest in his work, unprovoked, not to just be polite--each unusual to the other, and yet it felt captivating. “So...you've got an accent. English, right?” She asked. “Sorry, I don’t know many people from Europe…”

“No, no, Miss Baker, you don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind answering...though I suppose others will have the same questions, no doubt.” He looked at her with a small smile. “I am from England.”

“Is it nice there?” She asked, looking up at him with a curious smile.

“Where I’m from, it’s rainy and dark in some of the most beautiful ways.” He smiled at her, finding the curiosity endearing. “Not like Buffalo.”

“It sounds beautiful, really.” She smiled, listening intently. Cordelia definitely loved his accent, though she knew there was more to him than what everyone else might care to ask about. High society had a tendency to gloss over personality, beyond the obvious and surface level. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. Everyone I know who’s been there speaks highly of it.” He looked over, a little intrigued. Her smile felt...reassuring, in a way. Her curiosity was almost comforting.

“I think everyone should go to London at least once in their life. It’s quite amazing--the art, architecture…” He looked over. “Perhaps I could be the one to show you, someday.” She looked over, unable to tell if he was subtly flirting, or if he was just being kind. She didn’t know if she was misinterpreting things.

“How could I possibly refuse an offer like that?” She looked over. “If you want, I could show you around Buffalo...make things even?” The idea of spending time with her was inexplicably something he wanted--no, needed. He was drawn to her, he needed to find out more about her. The fact that she would even suggest that she’d give him a tour was astonishing--nobody else he met up until then had brought it up.

“That sounds like a fair deal. I would love that, actually.” He admitted with a smile--it made her blush faintly. It was unexplainable...she had no idea how this man had an effect on her already. They reached the lobby, the door in sight. The soft evening light started filtering in through the glass.

“You know...I’m hosting a party on Friday night--this Friday…” She got irritated with herself, internally, wondering if she was embarrassing herself by talking too much. “...if you would be interested, you are more than welcome there.”

“Really?” He sounded a bit stunned. “I would very much enjoy that. Would it be alright if my sister came along with me? I’d hate to leave her out.”

“If she wants to, of course she can.” She looked at him with a soft smile.

“Well, that’s great.” He smiled back, brightly. “Until then, Miss Baker?”

“I’m already looking forward to it, Sir Sharpe.” He took his hat, putting it on and chuckling softly as he left. With him gone, she sighed. There was something about him that she couldn’t describe. Cordelia immediately set off to bother Anthony for information. She knocked on the door and opened it. Her brother had a completely smitten look as he was reading over the letter. “So...how’s Edith?” She teased, amused.

“She’s fine.” He muttered, closing the letter and putting it on top of the papers.

“Have either of you told the other, yet?”

“No. Stop asking.” He looked at her, half-glaring. “And don’t ask about the baronet. I’m not giving you anything, yet.”

“Fine, fine.” She shook her head. “Then I’ll get back to planning the party.”

“Alright. Have fun.”

[prairiesongserial]

15.5

Val pressed himself against the window as much as possible, ostensibly to watch for more mutie scouts, but really to avoid bumping knees with Johannes. Since Enis had accelerated past the muties in the trees, there hadn’t been any sign of more. Val wasn’t even worried; he was thinking about how annoying it was that Johannes had forced him to come along on this excursion for no reason.

After a tense couple of minutes, Enis broke the silence.

“Did you know there was a mutie colony out this way?” he asked.

Johannes leaned against Val, reaching across him to open the glove compartment and pull out a badly folded map. Val grimaced out the window.

“No, I didn’t,” Johannes said distractedly as he paged through the map. “What was this town called again?”

“Monocacy,” Val said.

Johannes’s finger traced over the map. “Don’t have any notes about it,” he said. He sighed theatrically. “But why not? The Virginia muties have spread west since last summer, they may as well spread north, too.”

Johannes looked more agitated than Val was used to seeing him. He tapped his fingers on the map, as if that would bring them to Monocacy faster.

“The signs are recent,” Val said. Johannes’s eyes snapped to him. “The signs for corn and peaches. They’re from this summer. It’s strange that even with muties around, clearly the town is…”

Val didn’t want to say fine. There were never any guarantees.

“Still selling peaches,” he settled on, instead.

Johannes folded the map, leaving it worse than he’d found it, and put it back in the glove box. The truck passed under brightly colored banners strung between the trees on either side of the road. One after the other, they ushered the truck forward into the little town of Monocacy.

Enis laid off the gas, letting the truck slow itself as it rolled past the red, blue, and orange banners and fluttering streamers. The banners advertised fruits, vegetables, and jams - or read “Welcome to Monocacy: A Good Place to Live.”

“Shvitsers,” Johannes muttered. He craned his neck to see around Val and scan the trees. “I don’t think the muties followed us.”

As the truck entered the center of town, Val was abruptly reminded of Outpost. Outpost, Utah hadn’t been surrounded by quiet forest like Monocacy was, but the town was small the same way Outpost had been. And Val felt the same sense of dread as the truck finally rolled to a stop in front of a building painted robin’s egg blue - he just couldn’t say why.

“Enis, you see a garage anywhere?” Johannes said. He was climbing out the driver’s side door after Enis. Val hurried to keep up.

“Yeah, maybe,” Enis said. “Stay with the truck a second; I’m gonna look around.”

Val came around the hood of the truck just as Enis took off at a jog, leaving Val suddenly alone with Johannes. Johannes looked up at Val, eyebrows raised, a familiar smile on his face.

“Well, preacher - ”

“I told you to stop,” Val said, too harshly. It felt like a joke to be wearing his collar again after so long without it, and he knew that was what Johannes was responding to. He couldn’t take being teased about it, even if it made him a jerk. Johannes stopped mid-sentence.

“Alright,” he said, his smile shrinking. He took his hands out of his pockets and twisted one of the rings he wore. “I have to talk to you. Before Enis gets back.”

So that was why Johannes had wanted Val to come. It kind of figured. If not for this diversion in Monocacy, Val probably could have gone on avoiding Johannes for days. Val didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t know how to feel about it, except queasy with panic.

He was mortified at the thought that Johannes had been sitting there next to him in the woods, listening, while he’d let himself say whatever stupid thing came into his head. He didn’t like that he couldn’t remember half of what they’d talked about, and it especially bothered him that he didn’t remember what Johannes had said that had made Val punish him by blowing smoke in his face. Johannes had coughed, and called him names, and Val had still been laughing at him when Johannes had kissed him.

Val didn’t know if he’d kissed Johannes back, or if he’d muddled what had actually happened with the series of missed possibilities his mind had cobbled together afterward as he lay in bed, still high, listening to the lake in the dark after everyone else had gone to sleep.

“Actually, I’m going to go buy peaches,” Val said, already putting distance between himself and Johannes. “And Enis needs someone to stay with the truck, so I guess that’s you.”

The look Johannes gave him was undisguised incredulity - a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance that Val wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Val gave him an exaggerated shrug as he walked away, thinking, as he did so, that it was something Friday would do.

He walked away. If he picked a direction, he’d find peaches eventually. Never mind that the only coins he had in his pocket were from a mismatch of States west of the Mississippi. He passed Enis, who was banging on the flimsy metal garage door of a mechanic’s shop, trying to get the attention of whoever was inside. Val decided not to interrupt, and kept walking.

After he’d passed another two shuttered businesses, the not-right feeling Val had felt when they’d first arrived in Monocacy returned. The town was too quiet for the middle of the day. Something should be open. Someone should be outside. Val shouldn’t have been able to hear the tinny sound of Enis struggling to open the garage door by himself in the otherwise silent town.

He probably should have found the peaches by now, but for all the colorful banners and streamers, he hadn’t passed a single fruit stall - not even an abandoned one.

Val wasn’t watching where he was going as he slowly walked down the middle of the road; he craned his neck to look into the dark windows he passed. He slowed as he passed a tailor’s shop. He saw his reflection in the black window, and next to it, a girl’s. He turned to face her, stepping back as he did. She was as real as her reflection. The girl stood with him in the middle of the road, not speaking. She was probably twelve or thirteen, and wore a sharp sailor dress in light blue. There was a baby in a sling strapped to her back.

She looked up at Val with icy eyes and held a finger to her lips. He watched in stunned silence as she pulled a notepad from the pocket of her dress, flipped to a fresh page, and began to write.

“Hello,” she printed. Her handwriting was neat, but still hard to read - the shapes of the letters were formed perfectly, but the standard here was clearly not quite the same as what was taught in the convent. “Matthew is asleep,” she wrote. “I’m Penelope.”

Val opened his mouth to return the greeting, but Penelope shook her head. Behind her, Matthew stirred. Val held out his hand for the notebook, but the dirty look Penelope gave him informed him that this was an affront as well.

Val wasn’t sure what to do, and after a few awkward seconds, mouthed the question “Peaches?”

A bell began to ring from very close by, ringing not in the musical peels of a church bell, but the high pitched urgency of an alarm. Val looked for it, and in doing so, looked behind him. Penelope wasn’t the only child in the street. A silent army of them, none of them phased by the bell, watched him and Penelope with interest.

On Penelope’s back, Matthew began to wail.

“Well, you’ve woken him,” Penelope said with a sigh. She returned her notebook to her pocket. “Welcome to Monocacy. And it’s not peach season.”

15.4 || 15.6

[fandomlife-giver]

The Twins Fight!: 4

Pairing: Eventual!Kyoya x Reader

Warnings: None

@animallover1089 @katgirl05 @kikigunth72

Word Count: 4318

Your name: submit What is this?

“Kyoya-Senpai, what are you doing here?”

Haruhi’s voice made you snap out of your shock and instead be replaced by a sudden urge to hide since you remembered what you were wearing. Your pajamas. Your unicorn print pajamas to be more specific.

In a panic, you swerved to the side of the room, hidden behind the door. 

Kyoya raised his eyebrows in surprise at Haruhi. “I could ask you the same thing, Haruhi. But to answer your question, I came to drop off the key to the host club which I informed Y/N about before she left earlier.”

Haruhi glanced over at you as you pinched your nose out of annoyance at yourself. You had completely forgotten about that.

Moving her eyes back on him, Haruhi tilted her head. “Well yeah, but you said you’d have a driver drop it off, not you. I was there too, remember?” 

He hummed for a moment. “That is true, however, I have something to discuss with Y/N so I figured I’d come myself.”

Hinata grinned as she looked at you from the corner of her eye. “Well don’t just stand there and catch a cold, come on in. I’ll get her for you.”

Your eyes widened as your lips formed a straight line and you frantically shook your head at her.

He flashed her a smile. “Thank you, Ms. Kitihara.” 

Once he stepped inside, she closed the door and your teeth ground when she feigned surprise and pointed in your direction. “Oh, there she is! Well, I guess we’ll leave the two of you to talk. Haruhi, would you mind giving me a hand?”

Your eyes locked with Haruhi, silently begging her to help but she took the safe route by doing whatever your foster mom said. “Sure.” She mouthed an apology before running off with her, leaving you with a heavy heart.

You bit your bottom lip as he turned and got a look at you. His eyes seemed to stare straight through you. “I do apologize for coming this late unannounced. I know you probably don’t want to see me. Your mental health is valued, I had to guarantee you’d be back to normal by the time you returned to the host club.”

Your eyebrows furrowed because he ignored both the embarrassing outfit and just admitted the only reason he came was for his own personal reasons.

“Wait a second, are you saying you...were worried for me? You came here this late by yourself because you wanted to make sure I was okay?”

He adjusted his glasses and shrugged. “I wouldn’t quite say that, but whatever makes you feel better.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips. “Well thanks anyway. But it’s alright, I just really don’t want to see the twins for a bit. I know you might not understand, but what they said really hurt me.”

He continued to stare at you, his eyes scanning every part of your face and his lips parted as if he was gonna say something, but he decided not to and instead reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring.

“Anyways, here’s the key to the club. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure you’re busy. And time is money after all.”

You took the key from his grasp and watched in confusion as he hurried to the door while scratching the back of his neck. He looked back at you one last time.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

Your nose scrunched up at his behavior. “Yeah...you too.”

He nodded before opening the door and walking out. Once you heard the lock click back in place, you looked down at the key with pursed lips.

“I wonder what that was all about.”

******

Stretching your arms above your head, your mouth widened as a quiet yawn escaped you. Your eyes lazily rolled open, glazed over with the remnants of a dream.

The sunlight was so bright that it forced you to cover your eyes as you made your way to your truck. Haruhi stayed a little later than you thought she would and because you needed to make the meal plan for the school, you had to stay up longer than you would’ve liked.

Still half-asleep, you slapped your face a few times to wake up before putting the key into the ignition.

You suddenly jumped, however, when your phone began to ring loudly. Shaking your head you quickly grabbed your phone and answered. 

“Hello?”

‘Y/N! You need to get here, like, right now.’

“Tamaki? What are you talking about, what’s going on? And how did you get my number?”

‘That doesn’t matter and no time to explain, just get over here. Now!’

You sighed loudly. “Alright, I’m leaving right now.”

‘Hurry! No, hey, put that down, that’s mine--’

At the sound of the call suddenly being cut off, you pulled your phone away from your ear and started the engine. 

“Great. Now what?”

******

“Y/N, what are you doing out here?”

You turned around when you saw Haruhi stare at you through the small glass window. 

“Oh, hey Haruhi. I’m just dropping the food I made off at the cafeteria.”

She nodded as the lunch lady handed her a carton of milk. “Oh okay. But weren’t you supposed to be here later?”

You picked up your boxed lunch sitting beside you and walked out of the small booth to come around to stand beside her. 

“Yeah, well, I was but Tamaki ruined those plans when he called me yelling for me to come quickly. I don’t know what’s up with him but it sounded like something was wrong in the club.”

Haruhi’s shoulders slumped and you gestured for her to come to a nearby table where you plopped down onto, placing your box on the surface.

“Yeah...he was probably talking about the twins.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of them. “The twins? Now what did they do, start a fight with someone?”

She tilted her head as she tossed the carton between her hands. “Not exactly. More like start a fight with each other. They’ve been fighting ever since your outburst yesterday.”

You stared at her for a few seconds before busting out laughing. “That’s a good one. You really had me going for a second there.”  

She looked at you as if you were crazy, growing confused by your laughter. “I’m not joking, though. Earlier, they were in the host club throwing whatever they could find at each other. And that was only because they found out they both dyed their hair to not look the same.”

Your jaw opened as your eyebrows furrowed. “So not only are they fighting but they dyed their hair, too? Yeah right, those boys are inseparable they couldn’t have broken up just because of me--”

“Stop copying me! Just leave me alone!”

Your heads instantly turned at the loud shouting. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw them. Hikaru and Kaoru, or more accurately, pink thing #1 and blue thing #2. 

Thye were glaring daggers at each other, seething with anger. It was a sight you never thought you’d see.

Haruhi chuckled under her breath. “Amazing. Perfect unison, even when fighting.”

She turned away from you, backing up. “On that note, I’m going back to my classroom to eat my lunch. Good luck.”

You shot her a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you started noticing a bunch of girls giggle and look to the entrance, you turned your attention to the source and sighed from seeing the rest of the members.

Tamaki put his hands in his pockets as he looked at the twins. “I was wondering what all of the fuss was about. I can’t believe the two of you are still fighting. You’re a disgrace to the Host Club.”

You saw Honey race up to the twins, holding up a cake, completely oblivious to his presence only pissing them off even more.

Tamaki noticed you only a few seconds after. He raced over to you, eyes watering with joy at your appearance.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here. You’re gonna fix them, right? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

One of your eyebrows raised at his sudden change of attitude. “I don’t know what you mean. This isn’t something that I can fix, Tamaki. They need to work this out on their own. I’m just here to do my job.”

His lip quivered at your response as he turned and walked away with a now gloomy demeanor. “Why did you have to say that?”

You rested your chin on the table, your eyes closing at the coolness. Your stomach began to loudly rumble to the point where a few people looked over at you but you ignored it, in need of more sleep than anything else.

“Y/N. Can I sit here with you?”

Your eyes snapped open, moving to the side where you saw Hikaru staring down at you with a dejected demeanor. You didn’t say anything in response and only moved your chair away from him, offering him more space.

He pulled another chair out and sat down, his golden tray nearly blinding you with its glare.

You tried to look anywhere but at him, a part of you wanting to just leave.

“I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry for what I said. Kaoru was being a jerk and I said something I didn’t mean because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. You’re not a frump. We all know how beautiful you are and I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Gulping, you listened intently to every word he said without looking at him still.

“I don’t blame you for staying away, but just know that I never wanted to hurt you. Kaoru’s the jerk here. I don’t even want to talk to him.”

You briefly shut your eyes, feeling more annoyed by the second. Not because of Hikaru anymore, though. Now you were just annoyed with yourself because you knew you were overreacting a little bit but you were too stubborn and too fragile hearted to admit it, yet the guilt of the situation was beginning to set in.

You finally turned your head and looked at him as you straightened up and let out a sigh. “I appreciate the apology, but next time, don’t speak before thinking. Spewing lies out like that can ruin relationships.”

You shook your head in disappointment. “You and Kaoru are prime examples of that. So I’d fix that before it becomes too late because then you’ll regret what you never did.”

He only looked at you, a mixture of emotions in his eyes but none on his face. “You don’t think I’m telling the truth?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I know you’re not.” 

You sighed when he scoffed at you. “And believe me, Hikaru, there’s nothing worse than a man who isn’t a man of his word.” 

He waved his hand to stop the conversation from proceeding. “Well, let’s move on from that.”

You gave him a look but he ignored it and pointed at your box. “So what’s that? What’d you bring for your break?”

You looked at it half-heartedly. “Yesterday’s leftovers. Haruhi made some food and brought it over, so I thought I’d have it again.”

From behind you, Tamaki’s head snapped in your direction at the mention of food by Haruhi’s making.

Hikaru suggestively outstretched his hand. “You wanna switch with me? I had to order something different than Kaoru so I ended up with stuff I don’t like.”

You eyed his tray, noticing the food on it was from the selection that you had displayed from the host club.  

“Eating my own food, huh? Sure.”

Within a second, he snatched the box and slid his tray in your direction. But before you could even pick up your fork, the sound of running footsteps behind you made you look back.

Tamaki had appeared out of thin air, leaning into Hikaru’s personal space with his own tray in hand.

“Well played, Hikaru. As a reward, I’ll trade you my lunch for your boxed lunch.”

Hikaru didn’t even look at him as he replied. “No way.”

“Come on, trade with me.”

“Forget about it.”

You soon tuned them out as you turned your attention back to your newly acquired lunch. The moment the first bite entered your mouth, your eyes widened, tears threatening to prick them.

“Wow...I was so tired before I didn’t even realize how good this was when I tasted it.”

As you shoveled the food into your mouth, the sound of a chair scraping made you stop. You glanced to the side to see Kaoru in the middle of sitting down beside you.

“Hey Y/N...I just wanted to come and say I’m really sorry for what Hikaru said before. I didn’t want you to leave but you shouldn’t have heard that anyways.”

You gulped down the previous bite you took and nodded in assurance. “It’s okay, Kaoru. I’m not really mad anymore. Just forget about it.”

He smiled at you and it turned into a smirk as he saw the food smeared across your mouth from how fast you were eating. 

 “Is it good, Y/N? Here, try some of mine, too.”

He delicately grabbed your chin and brought the spoonful of some of the soup you made to your lips but just as it was about to enter your mouth, Hikaru’s mouth suddenly shot forward, gulping down what was on the spoon.

“Quit butting in. Get lost, Kaoru.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Kaoru moved to pick up his cupcake. Right when he threw it, you screeched at the impact. Only, it wasn’t on Hikaru’s face, but instead, Tamaki’s, who Hikaru had quickly pulled by the tie to use as a shield.

You looked between them, feeling the rage increase where you sat and you prepared yourself for what was about to happen. “Oh no.”

Within a second they began to grab anything in sight and launch it at each other, which unfortunately included your lunch. But before anything could hit you, strong hands grabbed you by the waist and pulled you up and away from the table.

You looked up to see Mori, who had a disappointed look on his face. Your eyes grew with worry as you watched them.

“This is bad.”

******

“Looking at the numbers, I’m afraid if this situation isn’t resolved, I’m afraid we’re going to have to stop offering the brotherly love package. We’re down one pair of loving brothers.”

You barely acknowledged what Kyoya had said as you stared out the window, admiring the golden view of the sunset. You and the rest of the members minus the twins were sitting around the meeting table in the host club, discussing how to fix the problem that had manifested.

“Oh, Y/N.” You moved your attention to Kyoya when he called you, his face was pulled back into a tight and obviously fake smile. 

“I just want you to know there’s no reason for you to feel responsible. Even though it was your little outburst that started this whole feud between the twins in the first place, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed with the blame he obviously had toward you. “Gee, thanks, boss.”

He continued to punch the buttons on his calculator even when Honey spoke up from where he sat. “It’s weird seeing Hika-chan and Kao-chan fight like this. Since preschool, in all the time I’ve known them, It’s never happened before.”

Haruhi perked up in her seat. “They never fought?”

You scoffed at the very idea. “Of course they haven’t.”

They all turned their heads to you, slightly surprised at your tone. Tamaki straightened up and looked you in the eye.

“Y/N. Maybe it’s about time you told us exactly how you met. They seem close to you the most.”

You glanced at the pairs of eyes that stared at you, waiting for some kind of answer. And after a few moments, you leaned back and kept your gaze on your hands.

“I met them when we were little. It was a different time back then. I never saw them before but they definitely stood out. It was like they always kept everyone at a distance except each other. It was such an endearing thing, seeing siblings so close.”

You gulped back the emotions that threatened to show through your memories.

“There was a girl around my age, maybe older, picking on them.  It was really irritating to witness so I stood up to her and basically annoyed her until she left them alone. After that, I thought I’d try talking to them. At first, they didn’t seem to like me. But then I invited them to finger paint with me and when I kept prying they eventually said they would if I could do something for them.”

You looked up, a smile pulling at your lips.

“They told me their names and said I had to pick who was who. If I got it right, they’d spend time with me. And I did. And that one time we finger painted was the only time I ever spent with them then I never saw them again until I came here.”

You locked eyes with each of them before landing on Kyoya.

“I may not have been around them as much as you have, but I know this: they will never leave each other because at the end of the day that’s all they have is each other.”

Tamaki took a moment to process your words in his head before smiling and crossing his arms.

“I agree. I think this fight could be good for them if they work it out themselves. We shouldn’t interfere.”

While they continued to talk, your eyes wandered over to the window again as you silently hoped he was right.

******

Fatigue was officially beginning to set in with every second you and the members spent watching them. For fifteen minutes straight they were not wasting any time trying to mercilessly destroy the other. Your eyes grew heavy with shame, knowing full well that it was truly your precious emotions that were tearing two brothers apart.

They finally stopped throwing things around once they ran out of energy, huffing and puffing as the stares given to one another seethed with poisonous intent.

Tamaki sighed, a vein popping out of his forehead. “Don’t you guys think that maybe, it’s time to give up all this fighting? It’s driving me insane!”

Hikaru turned to glare at him, annoyed at his comment. “What did you say? It’s driving you insane? You’ve gotta be kidding me--how do you think I feel right now? Every time I look in the mirror I see his face.”

He returned his attention to his foe, stepping forward to emphasize his point. “I am sick and tired of constantly being mistaken for you, Kaoru! The truth is I hate your guts!”

Kaoru didn’t seem fazed by his words and only shrugged. “You took the words right outta my mouth.”

Your eyes opened fully, though, when Kaoru reached into his jacket pocket. What you saw made your jaw clench in anger.

 “In fact, I hate you so much that I took this from Y/N. Belzenef the curse doll!”

Tamaki shrieked from beside you and you noticed Hikaru visibly gulp. Your blood began to boil.

“I’m going to complete the curse, Hikaru. I’m going to write your name on his back.”

Once he clicked his sharpie and began writing on it's back as he said he would, your eyes narrowed and your fists clenched.

“From this day forward you’re going to experience nothing but misfortune and sorrow!”

Within a second you raced forward, your steps heavy and wrathful. “You know what? That’s it!”

They began to scream in pain once you harshly pinched their earlobes, which resulted in Kaoru dropping the doll on the floor.

After a few seconds, you threw them to the ground and released your grip before picking up the doll and shoving it into their faces.

"What is wrong with you two?! Kaoru I can't believe you'd go as far as stealing from your 'big sister' to try and off your brother. This is getting ridiculous, look what you did, you're gonna drive the host club into the ground if this keeps up!"

You felt your eyes getting watery but you didn't care.

"I really do think of you as my brothers and seeing you act like this hurts so much! Enough is enough, now apologize!"

The entire room was staring at you in shock, mouths agape. Your face was growing red while the twins never broke eye contact with you, tears in their eyes as well.

“If you don’t make up right now we won’t spend any more time together, have I made myself clear?!”

The echoing of your screams bounced off the walls, ringing in their ears. After a painfully long and silent few seconds, the corners of their mouths turned up as they hummed in what sounded like...amusement?

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

"Hm?"

Slowly, they stood up and placed their hands on their hips. You shrunk back at their towering figures, even more so when they walked around you, never breaking their gaze on you.

“So what you’re saying, Y/N, is that if we make up you’ll want to spend more time with us? Because we...are your brothers?” 

You felt them place their arms around you, one hand still on their hip while they stared down at the doll in your hand.

With a shaky breath you, too, looked where their stare was. And sure enough, on the back of the doll was the word 'blank' written in sharpie.

"Oh no…"

With smiles of triumph on their faces, they turned toward each other, each draping their arms around the other's body and stared deep into one another's eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Kaoru. Even though I was just following our script, I said such awful things to you. I’m not fit to be your brother.”

A gasp rang out that was muffled by your scream of horror once you let it sink in, what was happening. 

“Don’t say that, Hikaru. I was so worried. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever thought I had hurt you.”

“Kaoru, I’ll never let you go again!”

“Hikaru!"

Your eyes were wider than they've ever been and you barely felt your grip becoming loose, not even flinching when the doll hit the ground. It felt like your heart had dropped to the floor with it.

Honey shouted out at them. “You’ve gotta be kidding! You mean you guys were faking it this whole time?”

They only smirked at everyone's reaction. 

Hikaru shrugged innocently. "Well, you guys were giving us a hard time the other day. We just wanted to prove to you guys how close we are with Y/N, because after all, we are her brothers."

His eyes slid to your direction. "Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You didn't say anything and only glared at them.

Kaoru pouted at you. "Aw come on, butterfly, smile for us. We know how much you cared when we pretended to be mean to you. But we just needed it to be believable, you get it, right?"

You grinned at them dangerously. "Oh yes. I understand perfectly."

Their smiles dropped when you marched over to them.

"H-hey wait, Ow!"

"Okay, Y/N, I know you're mad--agh!"

Within a moment they were back on the floor, clutching their heads and rubbing their scalp.

Your figure’s shadow covered them completely. "If you ever pull something like this again, I'll make sure you walk away with more than a bump on the head, got it?"

They nodded instantly.

"Yes, big sis."

Meanwhile, the members watched the scene unfold in front of them with nothing to say. Until Kyoya spoke.

"Well, I guess it's time to advertise the brotherly love package again."

******

“Okay, it’s time to play the ‘which one is Hikaru’ game!”

The twins stood before a table of three guests, their smiles as bright and cheerful as ever.

One of the girls raised her hand. “I know. The twin with the pink hair is Hikaru.”

They outstretched their arms in her direction. “We have a winner!”

One of the girls tilted her head with a smile on her face. “So are you two going to keep your wild hair color even though you’ve made up? It’s much easier to tell the two of you apart now.” 

As you walked by with your serving tray in hand, you sucked your teeth.

"No, it's not."

The twins' smiles dropped as they looked at you. You stopped to glance at them over your shoulder, a knowing look in your eye.

“Today the pink one is Kaoru and the blue one is Hikaru. You swapped colors for the day, huh?”

When they didn’t say anything, you knew you got your answer. You giggled at them before continuing to the kitchen.

They watched your figure fade off down the hallway, their hands holding each others tightly. 

Hikaru smiled widely, his eyes shining as he stared after you.

“Don’t you see what happened that day, Kaoru? Up until then, it was always us and then everyone else. But at that moment, someone had finally crossed over into our world and they never truly left.”

Kaoru tore his gaze away from you for a moment to look at his brother out of the corner of his eye. Seeing the face of pure joy on Hikaru, he looked back at you.

"Yeah. You're right, Hikaru."

He smiled softly. 

"I knew you'd be."

[frauleinsmaria]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered {1/1}

Summary: Emma is frustrated with where she's at in life, and even more frustrated with her job as a retail manager. Killian is the UPS driver who starts making deliveries at her workplace. And maybe, somehow, their brief interactions every week mean more to each other than they ever expected.

Rated T, includes references to sexual misconduct.

A/N: Kicking off @csseptembersunshine with this story I’ve been sitting on for a while! Just for clarification, the premise was based on my job as a retail manager, and the sleazy UPS driver I have to deal with on a regular basis. So, of course, I had to write a fic where Emma is me but instead gets the hot, polite driver me and my coworkers have always wanted. I know it’s a little weird, but I am pretty proud of the end result, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Major thanks to @thejollyroger-writer and @scientificapricot for providing beta duties, @shireness-says for the title and the store name (I’m letting you name everything for me now), and @let-it-raines for bringing up the “frost yourself” thing and inspiring the rom-com element. You’re all fantastic humans, and I appreciate you immensely. 

Also on AO3

-/-

Tuesdays were the worst. That’s how everyone seemed to feel about Mondays, but Emma didn’t mind those quite so much. After getting her one guaranteed day off every week on Sunday, it was a bit easier to come into work the next morning, semi-well rested and ready for a new week.

The same couldn’t be said for Tuesdays, though. Retail was far from booming at the first of the week (which Emma understood; shopping wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities until the weekend.) Any project Elsa or Anna gave her to work on was usually simple and completed within a relatively short amount of time. So that often left her with far too much time with nothing to do but refold the same shirts, wipe down the same counters, and scroll through the same posts on her Instagram feed while waiting for business to come or her shift to end.

Emma was grateful for her job at Crystalline. She’d been looking for a new job for almost six months when Mary Margaret suggested she reach out to the Frost sisters to ask if they needed an additional cashier at their boutique during the previous holiday season. And after working there for three months, Elsa and Anna offered her a promotion to become their assistant manager. She hadn’t hesitated before accepting. Not only would the position come with a small raise, but also additional responsibilities to help her feel like she had a purpose in a season of life that seemed so monotonous and uncertain.

Turns out, though, there weren’t really a lot of added responsibilities she didn’t already have as a cashier. Sure, she had a key to the store and acted as the manager on duty for a few hours every day before or after Elsa and Anna’s shifts. And she could tell one of the part-time employees to do something and be taken a bit more seriously. Sometimes. But unless it was around a holiday or a weekend that brought in a significant amount of business, Emma found herself spending most of the day trying to conceal her boredom. The store was a typical boutique that sold mostly women’s clothes, shoes, and accessories, meaning there were significantly less tasks and responsibilities than she’d have being a manager at a corporate store.

The store had been open for less than an hour, and she was on her third cup of her coffee and hot cocoa mix since arriving earlier to open. It was only she and Jasmine working this morning, since Anna had taken the day off to celebrate her husband’s birthday with him, and Elsa didn’t come in until after lunch since she would be closing tonight.

Emma took her thermos to the front of the store and propped herself up against a rack of overpriced shirts. (They sold few things in Crystalline that she could afford at full price. Thank goodness for her employee discount at least.) It was her typical method of trying to look like an attentive supervisor when she was too tired to walk around or even stand straight up. No one had yet to call her out on it, which she took as a sign she was doing something right.

Jasmine stood in the middle of the sales floor by the cash registers, dusting and wiping down every surface regardless of whether it actually needed to be done. Emma hadn’t had the heart to tell her she was saving that as part of her personal list of things to do to keep her preoccupied later when Jasmine left for the day. But they’d had a grand total of two customers since opening, a pair of older ladies who looked around for approximately thirty seconds before leaving. She couldn’t blame Jasmine for wanting to stay busy.

While Jasmine dusted the jewelry counters, Emma sipped her now lukewarm drink and composed a mental list of everything that needed to be taken care of after work. A trip to the grocery store was unavoidable; she’d put it off for too long now and had been stuck with peanut butter crackers for breakfast as a result. The clothes she’d washed and dried the day before needed to be folded and put away. And she needed to write. Even if it was only a few hundred words based off of a random prompt she found online. Something was better than nothing, and nothing was all she’d done lately when it came to any of her stories.

“Five hundred words,” she muttered to herself. “You just write five hundred words tonight, and you can start the new season of Queer Eye.” Priorities. Some days she had to take motivation wherever she could find it.

The next half hour or so elapsed with little activity other than overhearing Leroy yell at Deputy Humbert across the street over what sounded like a parking ticket. It was mid July, and Emma could make out the sweat beading on Leroy’s brow if she concentrated enough. (At least she did have the bonus of being in an air conditioned space all day.)

To be fair, he knew damn well not to park his truck in front of a fire hydrant. Part of Emma couldn’t help but feel for Graham as Leroy hurled insults at him, even though thinking about him came with an inevitable feeling of discomfort now. The two of them had gone out a handful of times a few months prior. Each date had been a bit worse than the last as she came to realize she had zero romantic interest whatsoever for Graham, but hadn’t known how to say as much without hurting him. The moment she came clean was incredibly awkward, and he had avoided her ever since, something easier said than done in a small town. It didn’t help that she was close friends with the sheriff and his wife, meaning Graham was often mentioned when David shared recent stories about work at their weekly dinners together.

Her attention was taken away from Leroy and Graham with the arrival of the UPS truck outside. Emma sat her coffee to the side and went to prop open the door for the driver, more than familiar with this routine after her seven months on the job. They received deliveries several times a week, packages containing everything from new merchandise to supplies and equipment for the store. The days on which these deliveries happened varied by the order date and shipping location, but they almost always took place later in the morning following any drop-offs to Dark Star pharmacy and Storybrooke’s Animal Shelter up the road.

Emma heard the truck’s back door open as she used her foot to set up the door stopper. She hoped today’s drop off would be quick. Over the past few months, deliveries had been made by the same man —  Walsh, she thought she remembered hearing — who went out of his way to hit on her, calling her “baby” and “sweetheart” and sticking around to make uncomfortable conversation that she wanted no part in.

She’d come close to calling him out for it several times. Telling him “Ms. Swan is just fine, thank you,” or that she needed to get back to work. But it was the fact that she was working that always stopped her. There were a number of ways he could react to being told off. She had learned the hard way how badly men could react if their advances were rejected. Emma was hesitant to cause a scene in front of customers, despite knowing Elsa and Anna would take her side should anything happen. The joys of being a woman in retail.

Stepping back from the door, she glanced up to see the man pushing a hand truck stacked with boxes in her direction. The reluctant “Good morning” she’d prepared for Walsh died on her lips as she took him in. Because this wasn’t Walsh.

The man wearing the standard brown button up and matching pants had never made a delivery to the store, at least not during one of her shifts. She would have remembered his head of dark, messy hair and blue eyes that met her own as he reached the store’s entrance.

“Good morning, lass.”

Of course he would be English to boot. It was almost unfair.

“Morning,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“This is my first run in this part of town, but I do believe I’m at the right place.”

“If it’s 723G Greene Street, then it’s ours.” She noticed the familiar logo printed on the side of the cardboard boxes. “Unless there’s another clothing store I don’t know about nearby that also sells Steve Madden.” This must have been the new sneakers Elsa mentioned ordering a few weeks earlier.

“Aye. What I saw of the pharmacy and the animal shelter makes me think anything here wouldn’t fit well.” He gestured around the storefront. “Where would you like these?”

Emma stepped back and nodded to an open space at the window. “Here’s fine. We’ll probably need to make some room in the back office before they’ll fit with the rest of the new inventory.”

It was difficult not to stare while he stacked the boxes up where she’d indicated, the fitted uniform showing off the taut muscles in his arms and shoulders. (The pants suited him too. Not that she’d admit to paying attention.) When he’d finished, he unclipped a device from his belt and offered it to her. She’d done this enough times to know how it worked, quickly using the attached pen to scribble her last name on the blank line before handing it back.

“Thank you, Miss,” he glanced down at what she’d written, “Swan.” He smiled back up at Emma. “Quite the unique surname.”

She didn’t respond, only smiled politely as he clipped the device back to his belt and turned with the hand truck in the direction of the open door. It was better than, Thanks, I chose it myself, which was all she could think of to say. Not the best can of worms to open with a stranger.

He paused just before stepping out the door and turned back to Emma. “Perhaps I’ll be seeing you again? For future deliveries, I mean,” he added when her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Such a smooth talker she was.

The man gave her a quick nod before exiting the store, a long list of delivery stops probably awaiting him. Emma watched from the window as he climbed back into his truck and drove off, disappearing around the corner.

Part of her mind was preoccupied with the fact that she’d never seen a UPS truck with its doors closed before. Shouldn’t that be a safety hazard? It was more than likely time efficient for deliveries, but she wasn’t sure if there was a point in saving time if your life was going to be threatened in the process. Storybrooke had its own breed of crazy drivers too.

The other part hoped the driver was right about seeing her again.

Emma thought about him more than she would like to admit over the next few days. The lilt of his accent, the lines around his eyes that crinkled when he’d smiled at her. She felt more than a little ridiculous for noticing such specific details after a single encounter lasting all of five minutes. If only she could have that level of concentration when it came to writing. She’d gone home that night and tried to muster up a few hundred words of something, anything. Instead she had stared at the blank screen in front of her and questioned if there was even any point.

Regardless, it was a poor decision to even give him more thought. She reminded herself of this as she went through her usual routine to open Crystalline again on Friday morning. The only information she had on the man was what he did for a living, and a vague idea of where he was from if the accent was anything to go by. For all she knew, he lived a nice, white-picket fence life with a partner, a few kids, and maybe a dog.

(He looked like a dog person. Emma believed that was something you could easily determine.)

And yet her pulse did something she refused to acknowledge when he entered the store around the same time that he’d come on Tuesday. There were several packages today, at least four or five stacked on the hand truck he pulled in behind him.

Emma approached him as he stacked the boxes at the normal spot by the window. “So you did make it back after all.”

He glanced up and her and smiled. “Indeed. It appears from the looks of it that this area is going to be part of my regular route for the time being. I hope that’s alright with you,” he added, one eyebrow inching toward his hairline. There was a hint of teasing in his remark, although it seemed to be genuine too.

It was more than alright with her eyes. Her nervous system, maybe not so much. “I think we can manage that. If you can deal with all this excitement.” She gestured to the empty store. He was the first person to enter that day besides Elsa and herself an hour earlier.

The smile on his face remained, thankfully. It would have been awkward had he not understood her sarcasm; that happened with Walsh a few times. “Sounds tricky. But I do love a challenge.”

Emma struggled with a response but came up short. If only he knew how many challenges she could present.

“Crystalline, eh?” he asked, glancing around the store. “Interesting choice. It means having the structure and form of a crystal, right?”

Was he a walking dictionary or something? “Uh, yeah, I think so. The owners’ last name is Frost, and they wanted to name the store something that went with it, so, like, ice crystals.”

“I see. It’s certainly an easy name for me to remember.”

“When Elsa first hired me, I made the joke that they should have gone with Frost Yourself since we sell jewelry, but she didn’t get the reference until I showed her a clip from the movie.”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?” he answered, as if on cue.

It seemed this man was full of surprises. “That’s the one.” What were the chances that she’d come across a guy who shared her love for mediocre rom coms from the early 2000s? She’d tried to watch Love Actually with Graham once; he’d yawned the whole time.

A moment of silence passed between them. Emma looked down at the device she still held and realized he was waiting for her to sign for the delivery. Of course he wasn’t standing there to make idle conversation, he had a job to get back to. Like the last time, she quickly signed on the screen and returned the device to him.

“Have a nice day, Miss Swan.”

“You too, um—” she paused, not wanting to call him “UPS guy” to his face.

“Killian Jones.” She took his hand when he offered it. But instead of shaking hers, he briefly brought it to his lips.

Emma took a sharp intake of breath that she hoped wasn’t audible. The only time she’d ever seen a man kiss a woman’s hand was in one of those period movies Mary Margaret made her watch every now and then.  

But she didn’t necessarily mind it. Maybe more men should take notes from their predecessors. Or rather, the actors playing them. Technicalities.

“Right. You too. Have a nice day, that is.”

He flashed her another smile before leaving. Emma watched him return to his truck, not hearing the footsteps coming up behind her.

“I didn’t realize we were getting so friendly with the new UPS driver.”

She jumped and turned to see Elsa, who sported a knowing grin. “Clearly that paperwork didn’t take as long to get through as you’d expected.”

“No, and I’m glad,” said Elsa. “Otherwise I would have missed your little interaction just now.”

“What was there to miss? He just dropped off a few packages, one of which I hope is wrapping paper refills. Regina wasn’t exactly nice a few days ago when I explained that we only had two options for her to choose from, and neither were red.”

“She should just be grateful she got it wrapped for free. Beggars can’t be choosers. But back to my point,” Elsa continued. “He kissed your hand, and you looked like you wanted to devour him.”

Oh no. “Did I really?”

“I don’t blame you; he’s gorgeous. Although I can’t exactly allow said devouring to take place on the sales floor, even though it would probably add some much needed excitement to our day.”

“Ha ha.” She hope Elsa wouldn’t notice her cheeks reddening; it would only make the teasing worse. And she had been one of the few people who never tried to set Emma up with someone or meddle in her love life. “Don’t even get started with me about Killian, though. He’s just our UPS driver. I’ll probably see him for a collective five minutes a week max.”

“If you say so. But if you have a chance at any time during those five minutes, can you find out if he has a brother?”

Anna’s head popped up from behind the shoe fixture she’d been reorganizing. “Who has a brother? Is he cute?”

“You’re married,” Emma and Elsa reminded her in unison.

Anna rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice face. I’ll make it a point to be lurking the next time I see him come by.”

Despite Elsa’s insistence, the chances of finding out anything else about Killian during his deliveries were minimal. Something told Emma it wasn’t a great idea to play twenty questions while he was trying to unload packages.

At least she had a name to put with the face now. A very nice face (thanks, Anna) that she thought about often that night while she ate pretzels and watched Pride & Prejudice without any prompting from Mary Margaret. She even added a few paragraphs to one of her old short story drafts afterward. Maybe something was changing.

But even if the perceptions she’d inadvertently made were inaccurate, even if she knew more about him (or even knew him well), that didn’t mean getting to know him more than necessary was the best idea for either of them. She already received enough pity or disdain — sometimes both —from everyone else in Storybrooke. The girl who moved back home after a horrendous breakup no one knew the details of. The unsuccessful college student who’d dropped out her junior year to find herself working retail to keep a roof over her head. If only they knew.

So, yes, it was better to keep her distance. No matter what her pulse did when she saw him approaching. Or when he’d kissed her hand. Distance was best for everyone.

But distance was tricky to maintain when someone frequently came to the place where she spent most of her time. Killian made deliveries twice the following week, and three times during the one after. (Thankfully, those deliveries always happened while Elsa and Anna were busy elsewhere.) Each of their additional encounters were similar to the first, brief but with enough friendly conversation that only made her want to know more about him: What made him start driving with UPS? When had he moved to America and why? What did he like to binge watch on Netflix? Was he single?

That last question wasn’t one Emma truly needed answered. She was just curious. They were getting somewhat friendly, and friends knew these things about each other. Didn’t they?

Regardless, something about Killian Jones captivated her in a way she couldn’t explain. And she wasn't sure just how to feel about it.

As summer ended, the new fall merchandise quickly began arriving. Their tank tops and sandals were replaced with sweaters and boots Killian brought in, not to mention beanies, scarves, and jackets Emma knew she would take advantage of once the temperature dropped. On one of the first cool mornings, Killian made his delivery wearing a standard UPS jacket over his regular uniform. How he still managed to make the bulky brown option look good was something she couldn’t understand.

The two of them continued to make casual conversation when he came by, often on a number of different topics depending on the day. There was one Wednesday morning she’d worn a blush colored blouse and he made the comment that he was glad she’d remembered to wear pink. And another day when something he said reminded her of that one quote from Legally Blonde. It seemed he shared her affinity for 2000s rom coms after all. She would have to ask him about that sometime when she wasn’t overthinking every one of their interactions.

One of the biggest downfalls to retail was working almost every weekend. Emma seldom, if ever, had a Friday night or Saturday free without requesting to be off several weeks in advance. She didn’t always mind. It wasn’t as if she had a long list of prospective plans to keep her busy. And even when she did have to work, her friends occasionally talked her into doing something after the store closed, regardless of how exhausted she was or how much she’d be kicking herself for it in the morning.

Her free Saturday in October just so happened to be the weekend of Ruby’s thirtieth birthday. Her friend typically liked to do something big for the day, like a trip down to Boston or New York. This year, however, Ruby had surprised everyone by asking that they meet up at The Rabbit Hole. Her and Mulan’s wedding was the next Sunday, and they both were too swamped with the last of the wedding planning for her to feel up to doing more.

Emma found herself sitting between Mulan and Belle at the large table they’d chosen in the middle of the bar, sipping at her drink as her friends teased Ruby about being another year older.

“You do realize you’re two years older than she is, don’t you?” she reminded David after he made a joke about people in their thirties, which also should have applied to him.

He shrugged. “That’s beside the point. It’s not my birthday.”

“No. But it will be in three months, which means I’m gonna start preparing all kinds of old man jokes for you now.”

“Why do I have the feeling my wife is going to join you on that?”

“Because I most definitely am,” Mary Margaret piped up from her seat on his other side.

As much as she preferred staying home in front of the TV on her nights off, Emma had to admit it was nice getting to go out and have fun without waking up early for work the next morning. Most of the people who’d shown up to celebrate Ruby were ones she hadn’t seen in far too long.

It was hard to ignore how Graham insisted on keeping his distance from her, sitting at the far end of the table and looking away if she merely glanced in his general direction. But if that was how he chose to act, then fine. She’d done her best to break things off as amicably as possible; it wasn’t her fault he’d chosen to become so bitter.

They’d been at the bar a little over an hour when two men entered the room. The one in front, blue eyed with dark curly hair, glanced over at their table, a look of recognition in his eyes when he caught sight of David. Her friend waved him over, and it was only when he started approaching that Emma got a look at the person he’d arrived with.

“Killian?”

He did a double take when he saw her, eyes widening before his lips parted into a wide grin. “Hello, Swan.”

The other man paused in the middle of the conversation he’d just started with David and looked between the two of them. “Little brother, you two know each other?”

Emma could see the resemblance now that the relationship was clarified: Killian and his brother didn’t look identical by any means, but they had they same defined cheekbones and blue eyes, although Killian’s were still bluer somehow, probably a result of the dark blue button down shirt he wore.

(It was a bit odd to see him in something besides his standard brown uniform. Not that she was complaining. Not at all.)

“Liam, you ought to know by now that there are few people in town I haven't made deliveries to at some point or another. Emma works at Crystalline.”

“The one the Frost sisters own?” It was hard to miss the way the man — Liam, she supposed — perked up at the mention of her bosses.

“Yes, that’s the one Elsa owns, since I know that’s what you were really asking.”

Well, this was interesting. Elsa had no idea that she was onto something when she’d joked about Killian having a brother.

She turned back to David and Liam. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“Liam’s daughter is in Leo’s class at school,” David explained. “I hear stories about Harper every day. He loves her.”

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me that! I thought I had at least another decade before she and I would have to discuss boys.”

The two of them continued to chat about their children while Emma became fixated on Killian again. She wanted to say something to him, but what? That it was nice to see him outside of her workplace? She hated forced small talk and didn’t want to trap either of them in an awkward conversation.

She went back to what David had just said about Liam having a daughter, and the comments he and Killian had made that hinted he was interested in Elsa. A quick glance at his left hand showed that he wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean much. Could she broach the subject to Killian without appearing to cross a line? Elsa may be her boss, but Emma also considered her a friend. Maybe she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, but she’d want someone to do the same for her and spot any potential red flags.

Emma’s train of thought was broken by Mulan getting up and walking over to the jukebox. Soon, the opening notes of “Single Ladies” played from the speakers, and Mulan came back over to drag Ruby to dance.

Emma glanced back at Killian. He looked somewhat shy standing there alone, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans and the other scratching behind his ear. Liam had clearly abandoned him for a conversation with David, probably discussing Leo’s intentions with his daughter.

“You can have a seat if you want,” she told him, nodding to the now empty seat beside her. “Something tells me the lovebirds won’t be coming back any time soon.”

“Something tells me you’re right. I’d hate to be a bother though,” he added, seeming to notice the space (or lack thereof) between the now empty seat and her own.

“No bother. Plus, the bar stools here are ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

It wasn’t until he sat down beside her that Emma was aware of just how tightly the chairs had been packed around their small table. Killian’s right thigh and shoulder were nearly pressed against her own. It normally would not have been a situation she’d object to, but she now realized how much personal space she was sharing with an attractive man she barely knew (and had embarrassed herself in front of on at least one occasion.)

“I can’t get over the irony of Mulan choosing a song that basically celebrates being single to dance with her fiancee to,” Emma blurted out when it occurred to her. “And a few weeks before their wedding at that.”

“Something tells me she’s too inebriated to care considering they’ve made their own dance floor in a bar that doesn’t actually have one.”

“Touche.”

They both laughed. Maybe making conversation with him outside of work was easier than she’d assumed.  

“I take it you have the night off?” he asked. “Not to sound intrusive; I just noticed the list of store hours on one of my last deliveries.”

“I do. Saturday’s off are few and far between for me, so I try to make the most of them. Tonight, that’s celebrating my friend’s birthday even though she’s clearly done paying attention to any of us.” They both glanced back over at Mulan and Ruby, who had started slow dancing in the middle of the room. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if they made an excuse to leave soon, Ruby’s birthday celebration be damned.

“I understand about your weekends,” said Killian. “I’m lucky enough to have a fairly regular work schedule, but Liam is an ER nurse on top of being a single father, so his free time is quite limited. He’s great at his job and an even better dad, but I like to make sure he gets to go out and do something for his own enjoyment every now and then.”

His comment about Liam being single cleared her earlier suspicion. She didn’t feel comfortable asking what had happened to his niece’s mother, so they discussed the child herself instead. Emma learned that Harper was four years old and already a spitfire, keeping both Liam and Killian on their toes at any given moment. She found out that the two of them had moved from England to the States as teenagers, where Liam went to nursing school and Killian enlisted in the Navy.

“How long have you been driving?”

“About two years. I did some truck driving in the Navy and was able to get my CDL while I was still enlisted. It wasn’t my dream career field by any means, but it paid decently, not to mention it wouldn’t keep me confined to the same cubicle or office all week long. I applied at UPS because I didn’t like the idea of being gone for days at a time on a regular basis. This way, I get most weekends and holidays off, and have an idea of what time I’ll arrive home every night.”

“Seems like you’ve got a decent arrangement there then.”

“Aye. I like having a consistent schedule most of the time. The driving helps clear my head when I need it to.” He paused and Emma saw what looked like a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “But enough about me. I’ve gathered next to nothing about you so far. Well, other than the fact that I interrupt your work day at least twice per week, sometimes more, but I don’t think that counts.”

He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever it was driving helped clear his head from. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. If I’m being honest, your ‘interruptions’ are a nice, albeit brief, distraction from the monotony that just causes me to question what I’m doing there.”

The frown reappeared. “You don’t like your job?”

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Elsa and Anna are great. It’s nice knowing I get the same day off every week. And I save forty-two percent on my shoes.”

“But?”

She shrugged. “I mean, that’s about it. Nothing ever happens. It’s not that we don’t get business or anything, but it’s not the kind of store people feel the need to come into on a regular basis, like Target or something. I spend most of my shift being bored. Which really just gives me more time to think about where I’m at in life — more like where I’m not at in life —  and how unfulfilled I am with, well, everything.”

She hadn’t expected to open that can of worms tonight, but once she started, it was hard to hold back everything she’d been keeping to herself for months now.

“I take it retail wasn’t your first choice when it came to finding a career?”

“Far from it.” She laughed dryly. “I was a creative writing major in college. So many people in Storybrooke gave me hell about it, said I’d never be able to do anything with my degree. But I didn’t care. I just loved writing and knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Until my junior year anyway.”

“What happened then?”

“I took an upper level Writing Fiction course during the fall semester. I was really excited about it because the professor was a fairly successful author, and I’d always had a conflict with another class before that kept me from taking anything with him. To make a long story short, the class was great at first. I got along well with the professor, and he seemed to like the projects I turned in for him. He liked my boyfriend’s projects even more.”

She forced down the lump forming in her throat and took a quick sip of her beer. Talking about Neal became a bit less difficult over time, but that didn’t mean it was easy either. “He was a writing student too. We met sophomore year in an intro creative writing course. I fell for him right away despite all the warning signs: he cut class a lot, was disrespectful to me — to all women, for that matter — and thought he could get away with anything because his dad was loaded. But, despite all this, he told me he loved me. And I fell for it.

“Anyway, back to the class we had together. I noticed every now and then that the professor would make a comment or say something overly friendly that felt a lot like flirting. I never brought it up with Neal outside of class since I thought he’d tell me I was overreacting.” Emma now saw the fact that she thought that way about him should have been a red flag in itself. “So, the end of the semester comes around. Our final was to write a short story. We turned them in to him before classes ended and then were supposed to come by his office during finals week to pick them up to see our grade and hear any comments he had for us.”

She paused to take a long sip of her drink. She had told this story a handful of times since it happened, but the next part never got much easier to share. “I went by as soon as his office hours started. I had worked really hard on the story I submitted — like, spent weeks planning and pulled several all-nighters to write hard. Anyway, I get to his office and he tells me to take a seat. I figured he wanted to talk to me about the story. And he did...for a few minutes anyway.”

Killian listened as she told him about the professor quickly changing the subject and talking instead about how much he'd enjoyed having Emma as part of his class. How he'd enjoyed it so much that he came over and put a hand on her knee while making the comment that he thought he would enjoy having her in other environments too. “I bolted. I was so scared of what he might do; I never even found out what my grade was. Not that it really mattered in retrospect.”

“Bloody wanker,” Killian muttered. “I’m glad you got away from him when you did. What happened after that?”

“I went to Neal. I ran straight to his apartment and told him everything, thinking he would at least try to, y’know, help me or be supportive or something.” Emma shook her head and laughed dryly. To think she was naive enough to think he’d react differently than he actually did. “He accused me of making it all up. He said I was jealous that he and the professor got on so well, and that I came up with a story to have attention on me instead. To top it all off, he said I was a shitty writer who would never amount to anything outside of school.”

There was a sour expression on Killian’s face. “Please tell me you broke up with him.”

“I did.” She sighed and smiled sadly to herself. “The damage was done though. I withdrew from school and left the city as soon as I could. I came back to Storybrooke and had intended to only stay for a few months and then reapply somewhere else, but I never got around to it for one reason or another.” One reason being the fear of being stuck with another sleazy professor. Another being how she’d constantly questioned her potential as a writer since those comments from Neal. She wasn’t sure she could risk the time, energy, and funds required to go back to school if it was all just going to crash and burn for her in the end. It was also why making progress on any story had felt like pulling teeth ever since.

She hated that he and his words still got to her like they did almost eight years later.

“I’m sorry you were treated so terribly in both circumstances. Truly.” Something about the way his eyes softened as she’d spoken made her believe he wasn’t just speaking out of pity. It seemed that he genuinely cared. “And perhaps I’m overstepping here since I’m simply the man who makes deliveries to your workplace, but from what I’ve gathered over the past few weeks, you appear to be a strong, compassionate, and capable woman who can do anything she sets her mind to. Whether it be venturing into another career field or going back to school, I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s best for you and do it well.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, too dumbfounded to speak. She had just poured her heart out to a man who still felt like little more than an acquaintance. And yet he wasn’t judging her, criticizing her, or even looking at her like she’d lost her mind, and she would have normally expected as much. But Killian seemed to get it: her past and her fears that the future would be no different.  

She found herself thinking that maybe Killian Jones had come to understand her more during their first lengthy conversation than anyone else had in years.

The idea didn’t scare her nearly as much as it once would have.

As fate would have it, Killian came by Crystalline with a delivery first thing the following Monday morning. She’d spent most of the weekend both taking his words to heart and wondering if he’d act differently after their conversation. But, to her relief, he entered the store with the same smile on his face she’d become used to seeing with his arrival.

“Good morning, Swan.”

“Morning. What have you got for us today?” There were three or four boxes stacked on his hand truck.

“Oh, this is just the first load. There’s at least seven more where those came from.”

Emma quickly helped him move the boxes to their normal waiting place by the door while he went to retrieve the rest of their packages. She knew the rest of their winter merchandise for the holidays was supposed to arrive soon, but she hadn’t expected so much of it to come at once. She, Elsa, and Anna were going to have a whole lot of fun sorting it out over the next few days.

She stood there feeling somewhat awkward as he finished unloading, wanting to say something to him about the other night at the bar, but not knowing exactly what. She was still contemplating it when she signed for the delivery. “What do you call this thing, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve just been calling it ‘UPS device thing’ in my head, but I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.”

Killian chuckled. “It’s called a diad. Stands for Delivery Information Acquisition Device — so you weren’t too far off.”

“Huh. Maybe I should come work with you then, considering I already know so much about how things work.”

“I’d certainly prefer you to some of the ride alongs I’ve had before. Remind me to tell you about what happened on Will Scarlet’s first day sometime.”

“Will do,” she confirmed, handing the device —  diad —  back to Killian. He clipped it back to his belt and was turning to leave when she spoke up. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are we friends? Sorry,” she continued when his eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “It’s just that we see each other pretty regularly and I actually enjoy our conversations, and you let me spill my guts to you Saturday night without judging me and that seems like something a friend would do. But for all I know, you might not even want to be my friend. Which makes this really awkward and—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I would like nothing more than to be friends with you, Swan. Truthfully, I’ve thought of you as a friend for some time now. And it’s nice —  no one else I know has the same penchant for cocoa and romantic comedies.”

“I’m one of a kind, I guess.”

“That you are.”

“Will I see you at the wedding this weekend?”

“Aye. Liam and I will both be attending, him more so not to let Ruby down.” Another fact Emma had learned at the bar was that Liam and Ruby were classmates in nursing school and had remained friends since. “Weddings haven’t exactly been one of his favorite social events since Harper’s mother passed.”

Emma’s heart sank. She’d never been married, but could only imagine what it felt like to attend an event where people celebrated the very thing you’d lost. It may have stung when Neal turned his back on her, but she knew it had to be worse when someone was taken away unexpectedly, leaving you to wonder how much more time you could have had together.

“I get that,” she told Killian. “He’s really lucky to have you around, though.”

The responding smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced back to the stack of boxes he’d brought instead. “Yes, well. If that’s the last of it, I’m afraid I have to keep going. Goodbye, Swan.”

Emma stood there frozen and perplexed as she watched him go. Had something she said about him or Liam that struck a nerve? The thought nagged at her over the next few days, causing her to wonder if she’d unknowingly caused some kind of problem just minutes after confirming their friendship.

But when he arrived for their next delivery on Thursday morning, he was himself, charming and witty as ever. Emma was glad to see him act as if nothing had changed, but she knew there was much left to learn about Killian Jones.

Ruby and Mulan’s wedding took place on Sunday afternoon in the yard behind their house. The space had been adorned with fall decor in various shades of orange, yellow, and of course, Ruby’s signature red. The ceremony itself was simple, no wedding party or long introduction from the officiant. But the vows were touching and heartfelt. Emma found herself wiping her eyes more than once at both women’s words, and then again when they were pronounced as each other’s wives.

The reception that followed the ceremony, however, was anything but simple. There was a great deal of food, music, and alcohol, not unlike the celebration they’d had for Ruby’s birthday the weekend before. There was, however, a makeshift dance floor set up in the yard, where the brides once again ignored everyone else while they alternated between slow dancing and spinning each other around in circles. (Funny enough, no one was playing “Single Ladies” this time.)

Emma sat at one of the round tables placed around the dance floor, eating what may or may not have been her second slice of wedding cake while she and her girl friends chatted about a handful of different things: the recipe Mary Margaret had recently found for chocolate coconut brownies, what they’d each been watching on Netflix, and the town’s upcoming fall festival.

“Speaking of approaching events, I do believe someone has a birthday soon,” said Belle, glancing toward Emma, a warm smile on her face.

She wasn’t sure whether to smile back or sigh in defeat. Her birthday was on Wednesday, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed celebrating nearly as much as someone like Ruby or her other friends. And everyone knew this, although their knowledge on the reason why was minimal.

What was the point in celebrating a day that only reminded her of what she didn’t have? Because, in spite of any gifts or attention her friends might try to shower her with, she was never able to focus on anything but what the day signified and the questions she may never have answers to. The main one being why was she abandoned outside of Storybrooke just after (if not on) the day in question.

She forced down the lump quickly forming in her throat. Her friends’ wedding was the last place she wanted to reopen those old wounds. “I need more punch!” she announced, getting to her feet. “Anyone else?” Not waiting to hear anyone’s answers, she took her mostly full cup to the punch bowl at a table on the other side of the yard.

Emma topped off her drink and grabbed a handful of crackers she didn’t actually want just to appear preoccupied. She didn’t feel up for going back to her seat just yet.

Then it hit her: she had yet to come across Killian or his brother. Hadn’t he said they were coming?

A hand tapped Emma’s shoulder just as she began looking through the crowd for a familiar face. She turned to see bright blue eyes and that smile she’d become so partial to. “Hello, Swan.”

All of the tension seemed to leave her when he said her name. “Hey, Killian.” He wore a well-fitting navy suit with a crisp white shirt. How he kept finding things to wear that made his eyes look even more blue was lost to her. “Nice ceremony, huh?”

“Aye. I believe that was the most enthusiastic kiss I’ve ever witnessed at a wedding.”

“This is Ruby we’re talking about. There was little chance of her keeping things PG, wedding or not.”

“A valid point.”

He looked over to her friends’ table where she’d been sitting earlier. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your friends. I’d been looking for you and wanted to speak while I had a moment.”

“No, you’re not. I was honestly trying to avoid them. Let’s just say they’d brought up a subject I wasn’t up for discussing today,” she continued at his questioning look‍.

“That’s certainly understandable. In that case, I’m willing to distract you for as long as you may need it.”

“Okay, weird question. Your brother’s here, right?”

“He is. Although I’m not quite sure why you think that’s an odd thing to ask.”

“Well, that’s what I was getting to. I got the idea at The Rabbit Hole last week that he has a thing for Elsa?”

“That’s an understatement. Liam has been absolutely smitten since he was introduced to her at the Miner’s Day celebration back in the spring. But I don’t believe he’s made much of an effort to get to know her. He’s never come out and said as much to me, but thanks to a few bad experiences he’s had with dating over the past few years, it seems he thinks that she wouldn’t be interested since he has a child.’

She wasn’t sure just how to respond to that, mostly because she understood. The more a person had lost and been hurt, the harder it became to open your heart back up to something (or, in this case, someone) new again. And, truly, she didn’t know how Elsa would feel about potentially dating a single father. But she did know that both she and Liam deserved to be happy.

“I obviously can't speak for Elsa or her feelings, but I can put in a good word for Liam if you don't think he'd mind me intervening.”

(Had she gone and turned into Mary Margaret?)

Killian's answering smile made her stomach swoop in a way that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol in the punch. He was just unfairly attractive and she liked seeing him happy, that was all. “I think he'd appreciate that quite a bit. And even if he did mind, I'm sure he wouldn't anymore if it works in his favor.”

She returned to her table a moment later, this time taking the empty chair next to Elsa rather than the one she'd been sitting in before. “Hey. So, I have a question.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“You remember that day when you saw Killian for the first time and you made that comment about him having a brother?”

Elsa glanced at her and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Well, you're in luck. He does have an older brother, Liam. Apparently you met him at the Miner’s Day festival.”

“Wait, that Liam? He's Killian’s brother?”

“So you remember him?”

“Yes, I do. I just remember thinking there had to be some kind of catch for him to be so good looking, a wife or a criminal past or something.”

“There's no criminal past that I know of, and no wife. But he is a widower and a dad to a little girl. Would you be okay with that?”

Elsa pursed her lips. “It's not something I've given much thought to. I don't think I've ever dated someone with a kid before. But if he’s a good guy, and a good dad to his daughter,  I see no reason to object.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” She looked back over to where she’d left Killian at the punch bowl, where he now stood talking to Liam. Smiling at Elsa, she nodded in their direction. “He’s over there with Killian now if you want an excuse to go get another drink. You kind of know Killian already from the store, and something tells me it won’t be hard for you to get introduced.”

Her smile grew as Elsa’s face lit up. “I am getting thirsty. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and went over to the brothers, not even remembering to take her cup with her.  

Emma watched as she spoke to Killian first, then turned to Liam, obviously feigning ignorance. Killian’s gestures indicated he was making introductions between the two of them. She couldn’t see Liam’s face since his back was turned to her, but Killian shot her a wink that said all she needed to know.                                                                                            

She eagerly anticipated hearing details about the meeting from Elsa at work the next day, not wanting to ask intrusive questions, but hoping her boss would choose to bring it up. All she mentioned was that Liam was “just as charming as his brother” and had made a comment about hoping he’d see her at the town’s fall festival the night before Halloween. But there was color to her cheeks and a gleam in her eye when she spoke of it.

Killian’s first delivery of the week happened on Wednesday, the day Emma turned twenty-eight. Per her request, Elsa and Anna had kept the surprises minimal, although there was a cupcake in the break room she looked forward to eating on her lunch break. Chocolate was a hard thing to object, even if she objected everything else about the day in question.

Seeing the familiar truck turn the corner, Emma went to open the front door and wait for Killian as she usually did. Was it weird for her to do that? She was just trying to make his delivery easier. And maybe she looked forward to seeing him. Because they were friends.

It was odd not to see him pulling in a hand truck, but instead carrying a single package. “Good morning, love.”

“Hey. Is that all today?”

“Aye. Don’t be alarmed, though. I’m sure I’ll have at least a dozen for you next time.”

“You’re probably right.” She took the package from him, looking for a name on the return address. It was just boring office supplies.

Checking to make sure Elsa wasn’t out on the floor, she asked “Has Liam said anything about Sunday? My boss is being minimal with the details.”

Killian barked out a laugh. “My brother has been anything but minimal. I haven’t heard him speak of anything else since. I’d give him hell about it if I wasn’t so glad to see him happy, even if they’ve only had one real conversation together.”

“Sometimes one conversation might be all it takes.”

It was when she was signing her name on the diad (and feeling proud of herself for remembering it’s actual name) that the idea came to her. “Killian? Are you doing anything tonight?”

He considered it for a moment. “Nothing besides going home after my shift and finding something on TV to entertain me for a bit. Why do you ask?”

“Would you maybe want to come over and watch a movie? As friends,” she quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t detect any desperation in her voice. “I was going to order pizza and find something to watch, and just figured it would be nice to have the company. I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything if you have something better to do. I just thought I’d offer.”

His following silence and perplexed expression were enough to make her regret asking. She’d made it clear that it was meant to be strictly friendly, but maybe the invitation still hadn’t come across the way she’d wanted it to.

But then after what felt like an eternity (probably a few seconds in actuality), a grin broke out across his face. “I would like nothing more, Swan. As long as you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing on you.”

“Of course not. You’ll probably be doing me a favor by not making me eat the pizza alone since I can never finish it all and get stuck with leftovers for, like, five days afterward.”

“In that case, I expected to be well-compensated for my assistance.”

She refused to let her mind run away with that idea in public. “We’ll see.”

Emma then remembered she didn’t have as much as a phone number for him. All of their interactions so far had been face to face. “Here.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, opened the screen to start a new text, and handed it to him. “Put your number in there, and I’ll text you my address. Not that it’s that hard to find in a town this small, but still. Six-thirty work for you?”

“Sounds great. I look forward to it.”

By that evening, she was equal parts excited and terrified. She’d spent most of the day wondering if inviting him over had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with him, but because of how many things could go wrong.

There was a knock on the door at six twenty-eight. Emma took a deep breath and went to answer it, glancing at herself in the hall mirror and hoping she didn’t look like she was having an internal crisis.

“You’re right on time.”

“Of course. It would be bad form to keep a lady waiting.”

“Honestly, where did you learn to talk like that?”

“A number of different places. My mum had a penchant for Jane Austen, for one. Liam and I were forced to sit through that bloody BBC series so many times I practically had it memorized by the time I was ten years old.” He rolled his eyes but laughed when he spoke.

At least she knew that’s where the hand kissing had come from. “I’m partial to the 2005 movie myself. What does she think about that one?”

Killian’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid I don’t know. She passed that same year.”

“Oh my gosh. Killian, I’m so-”

He dismissed the attempted apology. “It’s alright, Swan. You didn’t know. She was sick for quite some time, but she did ensure my grammar skills were impeccable.”

“That they are. And speaking of impeccable, the pizza place was running a special. So I got garlic knots too.” Food was her go to method for deflecting awkwardness, it seemed.

“You’re quickly learning the way to my heart.”

They settled onto opposite ends of her couch with the pizza box and bag of garlic knots between them, not even bothering with plates. Emma turned on the TV and opened Netflix. Her first suggestion was going to be Love Actually, but maybe something without Colin Firth would be a better option after what he’d just shared with her.

“I’ve learned without having to ask that 2000s rom coms seem to be a guilty pleasure for you too. Any suggestions?”

“I’m open to anything. Although I did see Love Actually was back on Netflix if you’re not one of those people who thinks it’s too early for Christmas movies.”

Huh. Maybe she’d been wrong. And maybe he was a mind reader.

“Are you kidding? It’s never too early for Christmas movies.”

“As I just said, you are learning the way to my heart.”

Almost everything she learned about Killian continued to surprise her. And there was so much more she wanted to know. How he took his coffee, what his favorite subject in school had been, if he spoke any other languages, topics he had strong opinions on. He was like an addictive prologue that made her want to stop and binge read the rest of the story.

They sat in comfortable silence for the first half hour or so of the movie, eating the pizza and garlic knots and occasionally making a comment about a specific scene or line.

“What’s your favorite storyline?” she asked him. “And please don’t say the Alan Rickman one, or I’ll be forced to question this friendship.”

“Of course not. He was a bloody wanker to his wife. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Okay, good. Friendship officially saved.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. “In all seriousness, however, I do quite like Jamie and Aurélia’s story. They’re able to fall in love despite an inability to communicate, and then he goes and learns another language for the sake of confessing his feelings. It’s quite romantic.”

Of all the things about Killian that she’d learned so far, this surprised her the least. Of course he’d be the romantic type, maybe not with flowers and chocolate and other material things, but in his actions, the things he would do to to show someone they were loved.

“What about you, Swan?” His voice broke her train of thought. “Your favorite storyline, I mean.”

Oh, right. They’d been having a conversation. “That’s easy. David and Natalie.”

“Because of Hugh Grant?” he teased.

“No. Because she got the kind of support I wanted when he found out about everything with the president.” He placed the blame where it was due and never expected the victim to take responsibility for a horrible man’s decisions.

Killian’s smile instantly faded. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, love. I should have been more considerate.”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” she continued when he attempted to protest. “I mean, that whole situation in itself isn’t fine, but I know you didn’t mean anything by asking. It’s just...well, frankly, today’s not a great day for me and I guess it’s made me reflect on all of it a lot more than usual.”

He pursed his lips before he spoke. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

Here goes nothing, she thought. “Well, today’s my birthday. I didn’t mention it before because it’s not something I really like having a lot of attention on. To be frank, I don’t have a family, I never have. I was found on the side of the road right after I was born and grew up in foster care. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I lucked out and got a scholarship through the high school. And you already know how that ended.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I have a lot of great things in my life that I’m thankful for. I have friends who are like family to me. I have a job, that, despite my frustrations with it, still pays the bills and keeps me on my feet. But today makes it hard for me not to wonder where I could be now if things had gone differently. If my parents had kept me, if a family had wanted to adopt me, if my first love hadn’t been the kind of man to make me question every bit of my worth. Along with every other decision I’ve ever made.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry to invite you over and then dump all of this on you. I honestly wasn’t intending on bringing any of it up. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone tonight, and, well, you seem to understand me a lot more than most people do.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Emma’s heart dropped and she felt her palms grow clammy. She’d finally done it. She’d said too much and was pushing him away without even trying.

Just as she was preparing a long, drawn out apology, Killian broke the silence. “You know Liam and I lost our mother. She took us and left our sorry excuse of a father when we were young, and we lived in Boston until she passed. Despite the fact that I was nearly grown, Liam felt as if he had to look out for me for years after. I enlisted in the Navy both because I couldn’t think of a better option after school, and so he could feel he had the freedom to go to nursing school like he’d always wanted.

“My first few years are a bit of a blur now. I was still consumed with grief over losing Mum, and turned to whatever I could to avoid facing it —  drinking, gambling, women. Whatever could distract me. Things went on like that until I met Milah when I was twenty-three and stationed on the West Coast. She was older, adventurous, free-spirited, everything my own demons kept me from being. She was also married, something I knew from the beginning but promptly ignored until I was in too deep.”

Emma listened as he explained how he received news that he would be transferred back to the northeast. How he’d gone to Milah and asked her to come with him so they could have a fresh start together. Instead, he’d been crushed when she objected —  despite whatever connection the two of them had, she couldn’t leave her husband and their life behind.

“And that was it. I assumed there was no chance of me convincing her otherwise, despite how much I wanted to. So I left and went on to my next post. I’d been there less than two weeks before I heard from one of my old mates that she’d been killed in a boating accident.”

If she’d thought her heart couldn’t sink any lower, she was wrong. “Oh, Killian.”

“I was a wreck for months. I told myself if I’d tried harder, if I’d fought for us, that she might have come with me and would have still been alive. The only thing that kept me from spiraling back into grief was Liam. When he found out, he threatened to leave school to make sure I didn’t go off the deep end. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got in the way of his dream. And I started driving. I can’t explain how or why, but being out on the road gave me the release I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “My point behind all this, Swan, is yes, I do understand you. Our pasts may be different where circumstances are concerned, but I know all too well the feeling of questioning how your life could have been different or if you’re where you’re supposed to be. It’s okay to be confused or even upset about how some things have turned out, but I really hope you won’t think less of yourself for it.”

It was difficult to hold back the tears she felt pricking her eyes. She had no desire to cry in front of him after everything else, even though she knew he wouldn’t judge her for it. “How do you always know exactly what to say to me?”

“It’s like you said, love: you and I, we understand each other.” He considered the thought again. “Then again, maybe it’s just all part of my instinctive charm.”

She rolled her eyes and whacked his shoulder with a throw pillow.

Long after the movie ended and Killian had left, Emma found herself lying awake in bed as she considered their earlier conversation. She’d known he was nothing like Neal before she opened up and told him about her past. (Truthfully, she’d known he was a better man than Neal from the day they’d met.) Still, the way he listened, accepted her for who she was, and tried to encourage her when she needed it was nothing like she’d expected.

She also didn’t expect that abnormal thing her pulse did when the UPS truck arrived at Crystalline now. Or when he’d taken her hand earlier. Or when he smiled, laughed, or even so much as cracked a corny joke in her presence.

Everything she’d wanted but had never been able to find with Graham.

Shit. Had she really gone and fallen for her UPS driver?

The answer, she soon learned, was an absolute yes.

Killian was constantly on her mind over the next few days. She thought of him every time she passed a UPS truck on the road, or when one of the literary memes pages she followed on Instagram posted something related to Pride & Prejudice. And his deliveries, which were already one of the better parts of her work days, soon became something she eagerly awaited, despite feeling silly for it.

Emma only hoped that if there had been a shift in her demeanor or actions since the revelation on her birthday that he wouldn’t notice.

And he wasn’t the only thing often on her mind, either. She wasn’t even looking for writing opportunities when one fell into her lap. She’d been online, researching the English and creative writing programs at a handful of colleges in Portland, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else. It was still uncertain when or even if she would be able to go back, but there was no harm in looking, right? That's when she found the promotion for a Young Fiction Writing contest open to residents of Maine under 30.

A few months ago, she might have glanced over the details and moved on. But something made her stop and carefully read through the description and guidelines. It wasn't necessarily the particular contest itself that stood out to her; it was standard as far as events like it were concerned.

No, what stood out to Emma was the confidence she hadn't felt in years when it came to writing. Because, for once, her immediate reaction wasn't thoughts of doubt or self loathing. She felt as if she could actually get it a shot. Even though the deadline was less than a week away.

Within minutes, she'd bookmarked the posting and opened the word document for a short story she'd written about seventy percent of before abandoning it several months earlier. It was an adventure story about a runaway princess who leaves home after a dictator takes over her kingdom, and finds unexpected romance with a reformed pirate as they team up to overthrow him.

She had never even finished plotting the last quarter of the story. It was part of her cycle of getting excited about an idea, writing part of it, and then giving up at some point thanks to doubt and insecurity.

But cycles could be broken.

For the rest of the night, she went back and forth between her laptop and the notebook she used to jot down story ideas and managed to come up with the bare bones for the remainder of the story. The rest of the details could be filled in along the way; she had what she really needed.

The next few days passed in a blur of working, helping prepare for the town’s fall festival, and spending hours in front of her laptop in attempt to finish her story before the contest deadline.

And somehow, she managed to do it all. After one last read-through to catch any technical errors she might have missed before, Emma submitted her contest entry less than an hour before the midnight deadline.

The chances of her winning anything was minimal, she’d known that from the beginning, especially since she’d thrown together the last bit of the story so quickly. But that wasn’t important to her now. She had done it. She’d finished a story for the first time in months, years maybe, and that alone meant more to her than any prize.

And she couldn’t wait to tell Killian.

She had hoped he would be making a delivery the next morning so she could tell him first thing. Of course there was always the option of sending him a text, but she wanted to tell him in person considering how significant his encouragement had been to her wanting to write again in the first place.

At least she knew he would be attending the fall festival that night with Liam and Harper. Surely she could find a moment to talk to him while Liam was off romancing Elsa.

Since there was no delivery, she spent the rest of the day on pins and needles waiting for the festivities to start that evening. Elsa and Anna closed Crystalline a few hours early, and at six, the three of them walked to the town square where the event was being held. The space was packed with both people and various attractions, but Emma’s only concern was locating a familiar head of dark hair and blue eyes.

After half an hour of wandering around through vendors and game booths, she finally spotted him at the face painting table with Liam, and a little girl with her father’s dark curls that was having a unicorn painted on her cheek, courtesy of Belle.

She came up behind Killian and tapped him on the shoulder. “Please tell me you’re getting a matching unicorn on your cheek too. It would really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

“Hello, Swan. And, as much as I hate to disappoint you, the answer is no. With my luck, I wouldn’t be able to wash it all off and wouldn’t hear the end of it during my stops tomorrow.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “What a shame. I guess I’ll never get to find out what a cute Brony you would have been.”

She and Liam laughed at Killian’s objection as Liam took his daughter’s hand and suggested he take her to the pumpkin carving table.

When they had left, Emma turned back to Killian. “What are the chances he only wanted to carve a pumpkin because he knows Elsa is over there helping Anna and Kristoff?”

“Pretty likely I’d say. I can’t wait to tease him about it during my speech at their wedding.”

“I will most definitely hold you to that. Oh! I had something to tell you,” she said, remembering why she’d been so eager to find him in the first place. “So, long story short, I finished writing something for the first time in ages, and submitted it to this writing contest thing I found online. I’m not expecting to win or anything, but all that matters to me is that I did it.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “And I really felt like I needed to thank you, because I’m not sure I would have done it if you hadn’t encouraged me so much and made me feel like I could have a purpose outside of being a retail manager.”

The massive grin on his face made her pulse do that thing she still wasn’t sure was completely normal. Or safe. “That’s wonderful, love. I don’t think you truly needed me to make any of that happen, but I’m honored I was able to help all the same.”

“Help is an understatement. Trust me.” She could go into a long, emotional speech about the number of things he’d helped her see differently, but she’d save that for another time, one when they weren’t surrounded by everyone in Storybrooke.

But their present circumstances didn’t stop her from taking an additional leap of faith, not unlike the one she’d taken by inviting him over on her birthday. “Will you go out with me?”

Killian’s eyes widened as if wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “Come again?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just figured that while I’m on a streak of doing things I wouldn’t normally have the guts to, maybe I should keep it up before I lose my nerve.”

His brow furrowed and he placed a hand under his chin like he was deep in thought. “Hmm. I’ll accept on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let me take you out to dinner, but we’re having pizza, garlic knots, and cinnamon twists.”

Maybe he was a man after her own heart too. “With an offer like that, I think I’d be a fool to say no.”

[the-bonehoard]

Wyvern CCG

So my second article. Here we go! I know I said my next article would be about Ophidian’s gameplay, but in trying to learn to play I found I actually didn’t know anyone who liked card games enough to try their best to learn this one... Wyvern though. I have things to say about Wyvern.

Wyvern was a CCG initially released in 1995, designed by Mike Fitzgerald and published by US Games Systems Inc. Now I think its safe to say Mike Fitzgerald isn’t exactly a household name in the gaming community, but surprisingly he did work on other games after Wyvern. Most notably a couple games for WOTC and Dragon Hunt (more on that shortly). He also helped design the starter decks for the early Pokemon TCG, which when I found out about I was genuinely in awe a little bit. 

Allow me this small tangent, but this is someone who had a very small impact on all of our childhoods even if it was in an extremely minor way. A starter deck can really impact how you respond to a TCG, so this was obviously a really interesting job for someone to have and how he decided what cards to put in them is something I’d love to find out, or just generally how these things are decided and who actually designs these things.

Anyway, back to the article. US Games Systems Inc were largely a tarot and playing card publisher, and also a publisher of Wizard Trump cards (I’m guessing in the vein of Top Trumps, but I couldn’t tell you exactly how the game plays). And they still are. Wyvern didn’t put them under the same way other TCGs/CCGs buried their publishers. But again, more on that later.

So Wyvern. It was a game about dragons and dragon slayers, with a unique gameplay style I quite enjoyed (more on that in my gameplay article), with art that ranges from “Legitimately good” to “Comically Bad”, which is odd considering all the cards I’ve checked from the Limited Edition were illustrated by the same artist. It also has the coolest card back I’ve ever seen on a trading card. It has a real fantasy tome vibe, with a gold that really pops in person. There’s a reason I made it the icon for this blog. It would probably fit in well among CCGs today if it lasted. Alas, it did not.

Wyvern lasted two years (Ah the two year curse... Check out Kohdok’s Seven deadly Sins of TCGs for more on that), with five total releases; the Premiere Limited Edition, the limited edition, Phoenix, Chameleon and Kingdom. Limited edition largely consisted of Premiere edition reprints and a few added cards, while Phoenix and Chameleon both added 90 new cards each. Kingdom was similar to the limited edition, in that it was reprints from previous sets, but this set also errata’d several cards and fixed certain errors on others.

While I wasn’t able to find any information on Chameleon’s cancellation, my best guess it ended for the same reason so many card games are cancelled, it didn’t make a lot of money. And it didn’t make money because it wasn’t popular. While I do enjoy the game, the current score on BGG is 5.2, which is pretty bad even for a CCG. Besides that, you can generally get boxes or starter decks of Wyvern on ebay for ridiculously cheap prices. I got my box for £30. Thirty. Pounds. That’s almost the same price of buying each individual booster from when it was originally available, and that’s not accounting for inflation. If that’s not a sign that this game wasn’t popular I don’t know what is. 

On a side note, Limited Edition does seem to be the most widely available and from what I can tell Chameleon and Kingdom seem to be a lot harder to track down. I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, but I can tell you that the Premiere edition is almost impossible to track down due to a printing error resulting in a lot of Magic the Gathering cards being printed on Wyvern backs in the premiere edition, resulting in them being extremely rare collectors items now.

So what happened after the game? Well there was one more Wyvern adjacent release. Dragon Hunt.

Dragon Hunt, from what I am able to tell, was a set deck game using Wyvern cards and the Wyvern ruleset, but simplified and more streamlined. The BoardGameGeek rating for this game is a 5.7 so maybe it was slightly better received at the time, but I can guarantee this isn’t an item you need to track down if you can find regular Wyvern product any easier.

So that was Wyvern. Sorry for the odd structure of this one. I might take another pass at the story of Wyvern one day, but for now, that’s the story of a card game that maybe didn’t stand a chance in the flooded CCG market of the 90s, especially with its wide range in art quality and less eye-catching product design.

I’ll see you soon with my gameplay review. 

Until next time friends,

Kay, Keeper of the Bonehoard

[mastersvisualjournalmclain]

Supervision 3/4  & The Varnished Truth

In my discussion of my supervision sessions here, I try to highlight one or two major themes, points, or ideas that really stood out for me and that I need to pay attention to, and more importantly, what that means to me, rather than provide a blow-by-blow recap of what happened or what was said.

Last week, my supervisor and I discussed the importance and quality of the wet plate portraits I’d done back in June and I showed her some digital test shots of still life work that I’d done and was emulating wet plate with these pictures to get a feel for how these might turn out. When she pressed me about why I wasn’t doing more with the portraits (which I really find satisfying for a variety of reasons), I said because I could actually do digital work in my flat right now, not rely on work that hadn’t been done in the course of this calendar term. This led us into a discussion of the appropriateness of using work that you’ve done previously and incorporating it into a work or project that is currently under production. I came to the realisation that this constraint (that word, again) that I was placing on myself, rather than any prescription from anywhere else, and most importantly, that it was really limiting and unhelpful in the progress of my work. This realisation, and the sense of release and relief that came with the understanding that I was imposing something on myself no one else was that was unrealistic, gave me a greater sense of freedom to explore the older work.

A second, more pragmatic topic emerged when we started talking about permission to utilise people’s images in the project. I am quite conscious of the ethical and legal dimensions of using someone’s image in my work. Having worked in high schools, I assiduously avoided taking pictures for my own use that even *might* include a student in the frame because I don’t want to deal with the hassles, and, to be honest, the appearance of taking a picture of a minor, especially if it might appear in a social media context. That said, when I’ve been working on wet plates, I’ve been working primarily in an open studio situation, where lots of artists have mini studios in a large building, and when I’m going to do a plate, I run around and find people willing to sit in front of the camera for about 5 minutes while I create the plate and shoot it. If someone doesn’t want to sit and have their picture taken, that’s usually the moment where they opt out. But I was resigned and dreading that now I would have to go back and ask for permission and potentially ask them to sign model releases to use the work in a public setting. But that’s the right thing to do. I was most concerned about an image I did of another artist’s kids (with her permission and their cooperation) which I feel is a very strong and really ‘works’ that I want to use might have to not be used if I couldn’t get permission from the parent and the kids themselves. Luckily, after sending out emails and texts, I’ve received positive responses for use from all the subjects bar one, whom I think I simply haven’t heard from yet because he doesn’t check email very often. But I do acknowledge not merely a legal obligation, but a moral one, to use people’s images with their approval, since we are making something together.

This week we discussed the contrast of old and new technologies on the work I’m doing. The portrait plates I’ve shot have been done with a ‘modern’ camera (an Intrepid MK IV Black Edition) which is made of 3D printed parts, but really, in wet plate photography, the camera is itself merely a lightproof box used to hold: A) the plate and B) the lens. These two elements are where the image really happens. The lenses I use are both quite old. One is a 300mm Ross Extra Rapid f/5.6 originally meant for 9x7 work. The other is an older, unmarked, likely French made lenses that is stamped by City Sales and Exchange of London. It’s a Petzval 150mm f/4 lens. It was possibly made as a magic lantern lens and repurposed as a camera lens by CS&E, who were notorious for doing just that. Both lenses have unique character to me; does is this ‘character’ objective, or is it because I know how old they are that I feel there is a unique feel to the images they produce? This is a question for philosophers to thrash out. Which they’ve been unable to do, convincingly. However, I do know that I love the images that they help to create and they both deliver images that are quite sharp in some areas with lovely bokeh in others. There is, I feel a warmth and a depth to them where the crystalline images I get with my mirrorless camera and its sharp autofocus feel a touch sterile. I am also keenly aware that I am using an historical object at a historical moment in human history. All of these portraits have been created using an old technique with mostly old equipment to capture people at an important moment in human history. And, while I’m not willing to ditch digital and go exclusively wet plate/film, there is a quality to the portraits that, no matter how much digital sorcery I use, can re-create the bespoke, one of a kind plate emerges from the tray of my wet plate rinses.

Another point that we discussed this week was two-fold. I have begun writing on my images. Wet plates are not pristine pieces. They are, like all people, flawed and imperfect. This is not a bad thing, to my thinking. I was working with a master furniture maker a couple of years ago on a project. He told me that so few people make a piece of furniture by hand any more that there are people who go out and look for flaws in pieces because imperfection is the only sure guarantee that the piece was made by hand. I like creating things. I like that the things I create are unique and one of a king. Yes, they can be scanned or photographed and those images can be reproduced, but the image itself, the sensory, tactile, olfactory image is alone in its existence. One of the things I love about wet plates, which, sadly will be missing from reviews is their smell. The final step of creating a plate is varnishing it. (See images below) Sandarac gum resin is mixed with lavender oil and alcohol to create this varnish. Even after drying, the aluminium plates retain a faint lavender smell which I find powerful in surfacing the memory of creating the plate. I would have dearly loved to be sitting in studio for a Review and pass around the small plates for people to see, touch and smell. Alas, another thing that 2020 has robbed us of.

The second element my supervisor and I discussed this week was my addition of text, in my own hand writing, to the digital images I am producing. I recently listened to an interview with Duane Michals and when I began researching him, I was struck by his incorporation of text into his images. I was also reflecting about a lecture from Critical Frameworks last semester that was a discussion of words as art. I wanted to place myself in the character of the people the images and get them to speak something to us as witnesses to COVID-19 and its myriad changes to our lives. I wanted these words to be live the images themselves, a little messy and imperfect. At the same time, I didn’t want to fill up the frame with words. I wanted to pair words up with the images that left things open to the viewers understanding and interpretation of the image. Remembering the lesson I learned last term, I didn’t want to fill up the borders of the images, which are being displayed digitally in November, and I wanted to give the viewer credit for being able to fill in the images with their own meanings about the correspondence between text and image. Showing her a few examples, my supervisor was quite supportive of the direction I’ve taken these images.

Finally, here are some pictures of me in the final step of making a wet plate, varnishing. The collodion emulsion on the plates needs to be durably sealed or else it will scratch and peel over time. The coat of varnish applied to them makes them quite durable. Tintypes from the 1850s on are still found today in attics, basements, etc after being stored in relatively abusive conditions that would have destroyed other photographic media and they’re little worse for wear. 

(Many thanks to Alex Pomnikow for taking these images while I was working.)

[poli9048]

Part 2

"Righteous Christian"

It was after ten when Chris returned from Oprah's party. This time was especially pleasant to the young man: the foggy empty streets, filled with the echoing silence of the night, opened up space for thoughts and feelings. He couldn't get the image of the girl sitting on that small wooden nightstand out of the mind, how she's looking at Chris's face, scared from sudden and completely incomprehensible feelings, with a fervor in her eyes. The young man right now wanted to turn around, go into that house and press Leia to that hated for a few seconds nightstand, kiss so that the lipstick smeared the face, smears lay on the neck area. It was like she was a canvas and Chris was an artist, but it was just the opposite. This Frenchwoman made him change his emotions like the colors of a palette, mixing shades that had never been seen before. Sarah quickly faded into the background, the captivating scent of her perfume Chris no longer felt near, rather, did not want to feel near. In his mind's eye, he could smell the familiar scent of French lavender shampoo.

The Windows of his house were always warm with chandeliers with beautiful antique shades - mother loved things from flea markets and antique stores, so all the rooms were filled with old decor items bought for a few dollars. The front door was slightly ajar. Quite unusual at this hour of the night. He entered the house and smelled the sharp smell of alcohol.

-Mom, dad, I'm home!"

Chris walked down the hall. His father, Mr. Morris, was sitting in the living room watching TV, paying no attention to the images that flickered on the screen. His eyes were fixed blankly in front of him, his lips were muttering involuntarily, and with an exhausted hand he was furiously pulling back his hair.

-What's wrong, dad?-Chris asked carefully. At the sight of his father, something inside him shrank and sank-obviously nothing good was to be expected.

-Your mother... She... She's - " Mr. Morris gasped, his throat constricting. His speech was incoherent, his eyes wild, and his hands were shaking. - She got sick... Badly... With heart..."

-Where is she?-Chris could hardly believe his ears.

-In the hospital-having drained already not the first in a row a glass with alcohol, the father began to sob hysterically.

There was no point in asking him what hospital his mother was in, just as there was no point in running to it. The only facility that Mrs. Morris could have been in was Blackpaines, a hospital on the outskirts of Blackpain, a suburb of Seattle. The hour was late, and of course no one would let Chris into the room, and the attending doctor would not come until the morning.

After such news, the native bed seemed like a lot of small needles, digging into the body with every movement and thought. Chris didn't sleep a wink, trying all night to figure out if what he'd heard in the living room was a figment of his imagination after a cocktail, or a new problem in the Morris family's life. He stared ahead with slow, suffering eyes, letting his thoughts and images take him deep into his subconscious.

The boy remembered the taste of lipstick on his lips, hot breath in the area of the chin. A white cloud of smoke that had something in common between them faded into the darkness of his hair and fell over his lush lashes that covered his emerald eyes. After a little digging in the back of his mind, he remembered where the insolent neighbor had left a pack of thin cigarettes. His hand found a thin dark box with nicotine bundles inside. She didn't smoke American cigarettes; her brother sent her several blocks of French Marlboros. His gaze skimmed over the inscription; Chris had not studied French, and the young man simply could not hear this speech from someone other than a girl. The lighter was carefully placed in the same pack, so it was not difficult to smoke.Opening the window wide, Chris exhaled clouds of white smoke that disappeared into the night. The sky was surprisingly starry - the next day promised to be warm. His father was probably still sitting in the living room; there was no slamming of the door, no heavy footsteps. It's amazing how the absence of one person can turn a house into such an apathetic and dreary place.

Night gradually gave way to morning. The sky was lit up with timid sunlight, the ground was covered with a semi-transparent fog, and the air smelled fresh. The neighbor has already gone for a walk with the dogs, and the rest of the residents have started to get ready for work. It wasn't a very long walk to the hospital: ten minutes and you were there. Chris couldn't wait any longer and went to his mother.He saw streets that smelled of autumn rain, a few sluggish stray dogs, and houses where people were gradually leaving. Does this city wake up so early? The lights were on in the hospital, and a pleasant woman in the waiting room quickly ushered the young man into the cardiovascular surgery Department.

The room smelled of medicine and hope for the recovery of a loved one. His mother was sleeping, breathing steadily. Chris stared at his own face, and fragments of memories flashed through his mind: how she had taught him to ride a bike, carefully treating endless abrasions; how she had read him bedtime stories as a child - he loved the mysterious, fairy-tale, fascinating sound of her voice; tender warm hands stroking his head during a difficult school period; the way she gathered the whole family to spend an evening playing board games, invited neighbors to her birthday, which coincided with Independence day in a pleasant way. Chris found it hard to believe that this could be happening to her. Even more difficult was the thought that he was in danger of losing her. Forever.

The idyll of mother and son was disturbed by the creaking of the door, and a heavy man in a white coat entered the room.

-Good morning,-he greeted Chris and hurried to introduce himself.- I'm Dr. green, the attending physician, Mrs. Morris. Who am I dealing with?

-Kristoffer Morris, her son,-the young man said shortly. After a sleepless night, there was no strength to go into lengthy explanations.

-Nice to meet you,-Mr. green said, giving Chris a quick handshake while commenting on what had happened. "This is her second heart attack - not as severe or devastating, but you know, her body is already weakened.

Chris frowned.

-What are you implying?

-I mean, everything is stable now, but the medications that keep her stable need to be bought, and they are expensive. There may not be a strong need for them, but this is not guaranteed. Who knows what will happen next month, right?- Mr. green patted Chris gently on the shoulder and, after checking the readings on the device monitors, left for his morning rounds with his patients.

***

"Lord Jesus Christ, our God, bless us with food and drink through the prayers of Your most pure Mother and all your saints, for you are blessed forever and ever. Amen" the father's lips quickly whispered the usual prayer, after which the Brossard family members let go of each other's hands and began to eat. The dining room was filled with the head-spinning aroma of French cuisine, which Leia's mother adhered to, despite the fact that they had long left their native country. Mrs. Brossard sliced the chicken in a smooth motion and spread it out on the plates to match the clock on the wall.

-Lea, my mother and I have a favor to ask of you,-Mr. Brossard said, slowly turning his mirrored gaze on his daughter. It was probably only because Leia's father was a clergyman that she was tolerated by the school administration, because no one wanted to quarrel with the Confessor - especially the religious people, who were most of the older population of Seattle.

-I listening to you- Leah looked questioningly at his father.

-Our neighbors, the Morrisons, have family problems. Emily is in the hospital, and we have to help Chris while his father is away. Therefore, if he needs help, never refuse, you are a good girl, a good Christian-the father smiled gently from the corner of his lips.

***

The need for money for his mother's recovery made Chris think about work. The only thing he was good at was photography, so he decided to try to get a job at a local newspaper and went to the office the next day. Outside, the rain continued to fall, as if responding to the anguish that was tearing at Chris's soul.

The young man fidgeted with a battered portfolio - an old folder of his father, in which he had pasted several printed photos.

-May I come in?-he tapped steadily on the office door and went in after a soft "come in".The young editor-in-chief stood at his Desk, his black tie stretched at the neck, the collar of his ironed shirt unbuttoned, and a loose jacket over his broad shoulders. He was Smoking a cigarette, studying the latest issue of the newspaper. -Hello, Mr. Blythe.

-I'm listening- he said, looking Chris up and down, then stubbed out his cigarette and abruptly folded the newspaper.

- My name is Christopher Morris,-the young man began.-I'm a photographer, I'm looking for a job and I would like to get a job at your newspaper.-He handed the folder to the editor, but the editor did not move to take it, and only sneered.

-I'm sorry, friend, but we don't have a Union or a job center, and we don't need workers,- Mr. Blythe said, squinting and pulling a smug smile.

-At least, take a look at my work poi o-Losing his composure and completely forgetting about the need to make a good impression on the employer, Chris shoved the portfolio directly into the hands of the editor. He looked at Chris's work arrogantly for a while, turning the pages quickly and clearly trying to get rid of the annoying young man as soon as possible.

-The work is completely mediocre,-Mr. Blythe said at last.-I don't have instagram with a selection of aesthetic images for teenage girls. But as compensation for the time spent, I will take one photo from you.- he put one photo back in the Desk and handed the folder back.

Chris was filled with anger and resentment, but at himself, only at himself for the fact that the person closest to him needed help more than ever, and he could only imagine the rustle of bills in his hands, no more. Flipping through the portfolio, which now seemed like a useless collection of pictures, Chris discovered that Mr. Blythe had taken one of his favorite photos. A typical image of Leia from behind - it was one of the usual evenings when She came to smoke with him. Her hair was a little longer then, and she was facing the window, and the full moon shone on the curve of her back, the thinness of her shoulders, and the sheen of her hair.

[apositivelifeaffirmingway]

Holding On and Letting Go

Alex Manes Appreciation Week:    Day 5: what-if (with tiny a side of AU thrown in)  [Mature/Explicit]

What if, when Jesse Manes burst in on Alex and Michael in the tool shed, he'd smashed Alex's hand instead? What if, instead of Alex, it was Michael who enlisted in the Air Force?

 ( AO3 link )

"Alex."

Alex froze, his hands hovering over the ‘artifacts’ he was in the process of rearranging, attempting to make room for some new thing Grant had found on the dark web that he wanted to add to the display.

That voice. His voice; it sent an electric energy traveling up the length of him - from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers and back again. Alex had forgotten how much he'd missed it. Both the voice and the feeling it elicited; he'd forgotten how much he’d suppressed the loss, how well he’d been able to ignore the giant hole in his chest that had appeared when Michael had left.

Alex turned, slowly, preparing himself to set eyes on him again, the first time in almost four months.

“You’re back.”

He must have come straight from the airport, because he was dressed in fatigues, a giant duffel and an overstuffed camo print backpack both lying discarded at his feet. His hair was cut short, what used to be a wild mess of curls now tamed and combed back from his face. Alex involuntarily flexed his right hand, the memory of the feel of Michael's curls in his fingers overwhelming him.

"I'm back," Michael echoed, his expression slightly clouded, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone cautious.

Alex felt a pang of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the one who’d run away… Still, he took a step toward Michael, pulling the visor off his head and tossing it to the ground as he flashed back to their first kiss. It wasn't lost on him that they were in the same section of the museum, the same cheesy displays surrounding them. Really the only thing different now was them.

"How are you?" Michael's eyes flickered from Alex's face to his hand and back again.

Alex, who had only just had the cast removed from his hand a week prior, raised his left hand up and slowly flexed his fingers, internalizing the dull, lingering ache, ignoring the tightness in the tendons from the permanent scar tissue that would prevent him from ever pursuing a career in music...

The surgeon had only been able to do so much...the damage had been extensive.

"I'm okay," he replied, dropping his hand and meeting Michael’s gaze.

It wasn't a lie, not really. He was okay. He was managing, anyway. His father was locked up and his brothers were coming around, being semi-supportive and growing more so as time passed. Alex was surviving, moving past the trauma. He certainly didn't intend to work at the UFO Emporium the rest of his life...he still had plans and dreams and they didn't seem as impossible anymore, even if he had to adjust his expectations to fit his new reality.

"I tried to write you," Michael said, dropping his shoulders and jamming his hands into his pockets before looking away, "so many times. But I didn't know what to say. I feel like that -," he turned his head back and nodded at Alex's injured hand, "- was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have ever stayed in that tool shed."

Michael’s hunched posture was in direct conflict with the authority and respect his uniform demanded and Alex, who had grown up surrounded by military and the supposed steely strength it implied, felt a pang of sadness.

Taking another small step towards Michael, lessening the distance between them, Alex shook his head, the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"This,” Alex lifted his scarred hand into the space between them, “wasn’t your fault. My dad is a homophobic monster. It was his fault. Only his fault," Alex's voice rose slightly, hoping Michael would understand...hoping Michael would know that he didn't blame him for what Jesse had done that day.

Michael nodded, but he looked unconvinced and that broke Alex's heart. It wasn’t fair, the amount of damage and destruction his dad had caused the last few months. It made Alex seethe with anger, and also regret.

Alex had spent weeks blaming himself after Michael left Roswell. He was convinced he was the reason –even after everything they went through after the day Jesse had found them – that Michael was just too traumatized to even look at Alex let alone be in the same town and so he bailed. It took Alex a long time, and the support of friends, to get over what his dad had done to him. Even if those friends still didn’t know who it was that had been with Alex the day Jesse barged in on them…

When Michael had left Roswell it had been sudden and unexpected, at least for Alex. After Jesse had attacked them in the shed, shattering Alex's hand with the hammer, they'd not seen each other for nearly a week. Alex had literally been in lock-down (recovering from surgery and downing painkillers). Even when he was finally lucid enough to go anywhere he wasn’t allowed out of the house. Jesse wouldn't let him leave and expressed to him, more than once, using all sorts of colorful and cruel slurs, that Alex was to keep his '%*#^ mouth shut' about what had happened. Not that anyone would believe it if Alex told. Jesse Manes was a pillar in the community. A respected military man who was third generation Roswell-ian.  

Alex knew the implied threat was real; the tone in his father’s voice more than enough to deter him from attempting to sneak out. Even when his father would pass out from drinking too much, Alex didn’t dare try to leave. His father had never hurt him so badly before, the majority of the violence at home prior to that day mostly verbal, with the occasional hard shove against a wall, or a direct punch to the gut; bruises that were easily hidden by clothes and always assumed to be the result of the occasional bullying he experienced at school. Alex had seen his dad mad before, but never as full of blinding rage as when he’d bust through the tool shed door. Alex attributed the excessive drinking, which was also new, to the violence of that day. He found himself hoping, as messed up as he knew it was, that his dad felt guilty for what he’d done.

Alex knew he’d never really know. Their relationship was too fractured; there was too great a power imbalance and too much disappointment directed towards Alex. His father would never deign to lower himself to admit any regret or shameful feelings regarding his behavior, and the fact Alex even wanted him too was his own burden to bear.

Then, about a week later and after one too many glasses of whisky at the Wild Pony, Jesse chose to drive the handful of miles home from the bar, causing an accident that killed three teenage girls, one of which was Rosa Ortecho.

Alex was finally free.

Alex left the house for the first time in a week on a mission to seek Michael out, and he found him at Sanders Auto. He’d just started working there right before the tool shed incident. Michael’s face, upon seeing Alex, was full of concern and relief and sadness and joy. Alex could read it all, because he felt all the same things. They’d embraced, holding each other for a long time. The news about Jesse was all over town, Alex didn’t doubt Michael knew. They didn’t talk much that day, which suited Alex fine. He wasn’t ready to face what had happened in the tool shed, or what his father had just been responsible for; he was fine with ignoring all of it for one blissful moment.

Things progressed rather quickly after that. Jesse was charged with three counts of vehicular homicide, pleading guilty (he had no other choice – there were multiple witnesses to his presence at the bar and Mimi DeLuca expressing gleefully all over town, to anyone who’d listen, how she’d happily testify to how many drinks Jesse consumed that night; not to mention, his blood alcohol level was well over the legal limit). The judge sentenced him three days after the accident; twenty years with an opportunity for parole after ten.

It was outrageous, the sentence he’d been handed down. He’d cost three young women their lives, and it seemed that wasn’t worth more than a guarantee of ten years prison time. Alex had gladly joined Liz and Arturo and the families of the other girls in protesting the sentence. But their protests didn't matter. The judge’s decision was final as he stated he’d taken into account the 'upstanding nature' of Jesse's life in Roswell (up to that point), as well as his 'outstanding service to this country' (even though he was shortly thereafter dishonorably discharged).

After the sentencing Alex had felt a deep pang of guilt for having never reported his abuse. His father might have been sent away for much longer if there’d been record of his cruelty; if everyone knew how disturbed and violent and homophobic he really was.

Alex also avoided the Crashdown after that, ashamed of his connection to the man who’d killed Liz’s sister. Even after he learned Liz had left town, deciding to skip graduation, he couldn’t bring himself to face Arturo. At least not yet.

Alex was 18 when his father was sent to prison - an adult by legal definition - so he was allowed to continue to live in the house where he'd grown up. His first night there without Jesse, he'd packed up all the photos and awards and ribbons and medals; everything military or Air Force related went into boxes and into the tool shed. Alex wouldn’t be returning there for escape; the tool shed was tainted with the violence of that day, and Alex’s reason for needing a place to escape was locked away. It was freeing, erasing his father from the house.

It was only a few days later, after Jesse's sentencing, that Alex asked Michael if he wanted to stay at the house, too. He didn't use the words 'move in', he just mentioned that there were a lot of empty bedrooms. Plenty of room for him to stay if he didn’t want to sleep in the back of his truck anymore.

Michael accepted Alex’s invitation, though hesitantly, making it very clear to Alex he was just crashing, and might decide to leave at any moment. That was fine for Alex; all he wanted was to know Michael was safe and had a place to go that wasn't the back of his truck.

They didn't kiss, or embrace, or even touch each other in any way for almost a month. In fact they didn’t even see each other all that much. Michael worked early shifts at Sanders, and Alex worked late shifts at the museum. When they did see each other it was usually just to sit in a comfortable silence, sometimes filled with idle chit chat, sometimes more meaningful words exchanged – though that was far more rare. Sometimes Alex would find Michael staring at his cast with a pained look on his face. Alex wanted to say something in those moments to alleviate what he assumed was Michael’s guilt, but Michael would quickly look away when he noticed Alex watching him, and Alex never could quite figure out the right words to say, anyway.

Some nights Michael wouldn’t come back to Alex’s at all. The first time Michael didn’t come back, Alex felt in a panic, imagining some Air Force pal of his dad’s having done something to him – even though Alex had no reason to think that. All the airmen that knew Jesse had been nothing but supportive of Alex, a few of their wives even bringing him some frozen meals.

As it turned out, Michael had gone to the Evans’ and so from that night forward, if Michael ever didn’t come back to the house, Alex had to assume he was with Max and Isobel.

It was hard, though. Being so near Michael but not touching him or kissing him. Even after the traumatic end to their first time, Alex wanted nothing more than to rekindle some of the innocent joy they’d had in their connection. Alex had never felt anything more powerful or more right than that day with Michael. It was a feeling Alex supposed he might end up chasing forever and he could only hope he would find it again, or more specifically, that he would find it again with Michael.

But Michael kept his distance, and Alex didn't push, even though it was all he thought about. Even though late at night, alone in his bedroom, he would touch himself, letting his good hand wander all over his body while the memory of he and Michael played over and over in his head. Knowing Michael was on the other side of his bedroom wall made the want all the more powerful.

It was the Fourth of July holiday when things changed, when they finally came back together. They'd spent the day at the Evans'; Max and Isobel had hosted a barbeque and most of their graduating class was there. Alex hung out with Maria and they talked about the postcards they'd each received from Liz as she’d road tripped across the country (Liz also sending Alex a very nice letter telling him she didn’t blame him for his father’s actions, and saying she hoped they would see each other more when she returned. Alex felt somewhat healed after that letter). Michael, Alex quietly noted, spent most of the day huddled with a depressed looking Max.

When it had come out, after the accident, that Rosa had been Jim Valenti's daughter and not Arturo's, Liz had rescinded her invitation for Max to road trip with her and instead she'd taken Kyle. It’d seemed odd to everyone, but she'd insisted to Maria that it wasn't romantic, that she didn't think she could ever be with Kyle like that again, not after finding out the truth about Rosa. But Liz didn't talk about Kyle in her postcards, which made Alex doubt her resolve with regards to Kyle had held out. Maria had more faith in her, and teasingly chastised Alex for not thinking better of their friend. In any case, Max was a depressed mess over it all, and Michael was seemingly his emotional crutch.

It warmed Alex's heart to see Michael be there for his friend. Michael had a big heart and a caring nature and it was one of the things Alex liked best (loved) about him. Even if he wished Michael were at his side instead of Max’s. But no one knew about them (and they weren’t even officially a ‘them’; they’d just had one magical, momentous night. It wasn’t Michael’s fault that it was all Alex could think about). It never seemed to be the right time to talk about it or confess it, either. So Alex held it in, trying not to stare too much or too long. Trying not to attract the attention of Maria, or Max, or Isobel. Trying not to let on he had fallen hard for Michael Guerin.

Alex sometimes thought Maria knew, just by the way she'd look at him, but she never asked. So 'museum guy' remained a mystery to her, and Alex continued to keep the more intimate details of that day to himself.

Things were noticeably different with Michael when they'd returned from the barbeque. Rather than retreat to the room he’d been sleeping in as he usually did, Michael followed Alex to his bedroom. Alex let him, curious and hopeful about what it meant, and when he turned to ask what was going on, Michael was on him, hands grabbing and pulling, lips hot and wet and hard and desperate and Alex let his question die on his lips as he eagerly accepted Michael's advances, his own hands grabbing and pulling until he had Michael held so close he could feel his pounding heartbeat against his own chest.

The clothes quickly come off, both Michael and Alex pulling and tugging and kissing every newly revealed patch of bare skin until they were both naked and hard and rubbing against each other and when Michael pulled back slightly to grip both he and Alex in his fist, pumping them together as he pressed heated kisses to Alex's neck and collarbone. Alex gasped, sparks of white spotting his vision.

Somehow they made it to the bed, Michael on top of Alex, his hips pressing and grinding and Alex felt like he might pass out because of how good it felt. It was good. So, so good. His memory of being with Michael nowhere near this level of intensity. His skin was on fire, his senses heightened so that every brush of lips on skin left a blazing trail of white hot nerves that sung out with pleasure. Alex let Michael take control of it all, happy and willing to be an instrument in his hands.

Alex hummed with pleasure as Michael’s touch traveled his body; he felt like he was floating in the clouds while simultaneously drowning in a vast sea of pleasure. When Michael stopped and pulled back, his face slick with a sheen of sweat and his pupil’s exploded wide with desire. Alex swore he could see straight into Michael’s soul. Alex felt himself lose his breath. The man was a vision and Alex wanted him always and forever.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, his voice husky and thick.

"Don't stop," Alex nodded as he reached his good hand to cradle the back of Michael's head, threading his fingers into the thick mass of curls and pulling him down into a deep kiss. His injured hand was mostly forgotten, Michael's touch more of an effective painkiller than any pill could be.

When asked, Alex directed Michael to the bedside table for condoms and lube.

Michael moved to put the condom on Alex, a reversal from their first time. Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him, silently questioning if he was sure. Michael just grinned and winked, gently pulling his wrist from Alex’s grip and sliding the condom on before moving a loosely held fist up and down him a few times to tighten the condom. Alex closed his eyes while a soft moan escaped his lips; the sudden shock of cold startled him and when he opened his eyes he saw Michael squeezing ample amounts of lube on him, spreading it up and down his shaft before putting more on his fingers and applying it to himself. Alex wanted to ask him again if he was sure, if he was ready, but Michael moved too quickly, straddling Alex’s hips and lowering himself onto and then all unspoken words faded from Alex’s lips as he succumbed to the ecstasy of the feel of Michael all around him. Alex elicited a long, deep moan; Michael was so tight and felt so good.

When Michael’s weight had settled Alex opened his eyes and the expression he saw on Michael's face, the way his damp curls framed his face and stuck to his forehead almost brought Alex to tears. He was so beautiful, so open, so giving. His expression one of....love? Dare Alex even think it possible? They barely knew each other, could they even be in love already?

Michael’s features, soft and relaxed, tightened slightly when Alex shifted beneath him. But then Michael was the one moving, his hips rolling and his hands splayed out on Alex’s abdomen as they both moved with soft, breathy moans escaping both their mouths.

Alex felt it all, every slight shift and move. When Michael tightened around him he gasped loudly before sitting up and with his good hand he gently but urgently pushed Michael to the side, flipping him to his back so Alex was now on top.

They settled and Alex pulled back slightly before pressing in again. The soft moan that came out of Michael's mouth nearly sending Alex over the edge. He was so close already, he knew he had to go slower or he'd come before he’d even given Michael the chance to get there.

Alex laid down fully on top of Michael, pressing their bodies together as he let his good hand thread into Michael's hair. He rolled his hips, slowly moving in and out, pressing in as deep as he could, bolstered by the guttural pant of breath that came from Michael each time he did.

The very definition of heaven was how Alex felt at that precise moment.

Michael's legs shifted and he wrapped them around Alex, Michael’s hands lighting at Alex’s waist, then his ass, massaging and gripping and pulling Alex even closer - as if it were possible for them to be any closer.

"Harder," Michael groaned breathlessly, and Alex buried his head into the crook of Michael's neck with a grin, moving harder and faster.

Last time, their first time, had been sweet if not a little bit awkward and a little bit clumsy. That was okay, though. Neither of them had known exactly what they were doing and it took a little time for them to really figure out each other’s bodies.

But this time was NOT like last time. This time was pure desire unleashed; no awkwardness, no hesitation, no clumsiness. Michael knew all the right places to touch, and his boldness led Alex to respond in kind. But there was something more to it, too, and Alex could feel it. Michael was holding nothing back, and not just his sexual desires but his emotional desires, too. That was what made the look on his face so scary and exhilarating; in that moment Alex saw what he meant to him. He could read it in Michael’s eyes, in his smile, in his touch. Michael loved him - there was no doubt of it.

Alex's pace quickened, fueled by a young love that still contained all possibilities. An unwritten future stretched out in front of them.

Alex bit softly at Michael’s neck, his jaw, before capturing his mouth with a kiss he hoped conveyed the intensity of his emotions. He was so close, and even though he wanted to slow down to make sure Michael was with him, he couldn't. He needed to get there and the fact that Michael's voice was murmuring in his ear, encouraging him with soft punctuated groans to go harder, go faster, wasn’t helping.

Panting and moaning together, Alex thought maybe they could actually come together but then he felt it building, cresting, he so moved to pull out but Michael held on to him, wrapping his legs tighter and gripping his ass harder. Alex had no time beyond that because then he was coming, groaning Michael's name and biting his neck and pumping his hips while the waves of orgasm washed over him. It was nearly more than he could take and he wondered if he'd pass out it felt so good...

It was over quickly, yet also seemed to go on endlessly. Slowly regaining his senses, he felt Michael, still hard, between them and even though he never wanted to separate their bodies again, even though he never wanted to remove himself from Michael’s embrace, he slowly pulled back, watching Michael's face and feeling oddly happy as Michael's expression clouded when Alex pulled out of him.

Pulling off the condom, Alex tied it off and tossed it to the floor before sitting back on his heels. He was still between his legs, Michael’s knees wide apart to accommodate Alex. Michael was hard, so hard, and Alex stared happily at the naked, open visage of Michael for a long moment before reaching out and griping him tight. Michael's reaction was instant as he sucked in a breath, his hips thrusting up and down and then he was fucking Alex's hand. Alex let him thrust, varying the pressure of his hand ever so slightly as Michael chewed on his lip and elicited soft, breathy moans.

They watched each other, eyes locked, Michael lifting his hips to push in and out of Alex's fist. It was almost more intimate than what just happened. When Alex relaxed his hand, releasing him, Michael stilled. Not speaking, they just stare.

Leaning down slowly, Alex pressed a kiss to the head of Michael’s cock and Michael sucked in sharply. Smiling, Alex took all of Michael into his mouth.

"Oh, fu-," Michael gasped, his hands flying to thread into Alex's hair and he was gripping and pressing and Alex was letting him fuck his mouth.

Alex worked his mouth on Michael, responding to the gasps and moans and the tightening grip of his hair. It didn’t take long before Michael loudly groaned, pushing Alex off him and coming, his chest now slick with more than sweat.

Michael’s eyelids were heavy as he slowly blinked; Alex watched him flutter them a few times before his eyes shifted and he peered up at Alex through his eyelashes. They looked at each other, their breathing slowing and evening out, matching. It wasn’t awkward, or embarrassing. It was comfortable, and felt…well, to Alex it felt like home.  

After a few minutes, Alex moved to get up, his shifting weight causing Michael to sit up and grab his arm.

"Don't go.”

"I'll be right back," Alex smiled, pulling away and heading to the bathroom, returning with a hot, wet washcloth.

Michael was lying back, but he sat up when Alex walked back into the room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alex gently pressed Michael back down onto his back before proceeding to wipe him clean with the cloth. Michael's hand was on Alex’s arm the whole time, feeling up and down and around, massaging his muscles, working around his shoulder and upper back. His hand wandered as far as it could reach, all while Alex gently cleaned him up.

It was a level of intimacy Alex didn’t think he'd ever get to experience, and certainly not with Michael. Their first time had been special, up to the end anyway, but for Alex their second time would be the one against which all other times would be measured. Alex knew that without a doubt. And he wondered if it would always feel so magical (Ethereal? Cosmic?) when he and Michael were together. He hoped so...

"Thank you," Michael said, after Alex had cleaned him up.

They were lying together in bed, still naked, legs intertwined. Alex's head was resting on Michael’s chest, his left arm draped across Michael’s body. The weight of the cast on his hand pulling slightly and sending a dull ache up his arm, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable enough for Alex to relinquish the moment. He could live like this forever, safe in Michael’s embrace.

"It's no big deal," Alex responded sleepily, with a quiet yawn that elicited a soft, light laugh from Michael.

"I didn't mean about just now," Michael said softly after a stretch of silence, and from his position Alex could hear his heart rate quicken.

Alex nodded, squeezing Michael with his left arm and with a small smile he pressed a series of soft kisses to his chest.

"I'll treasure this night," Michael added, his hold in Alex tightening as a he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Me too," Alex replied, closing his eyes against Michael’s soft touch, his hand lightly tracing lines up and down Alex's back and he can’t remember, when he falls asleep, if he said the words out loud or just thought them; ‘this was the best night of my lift’.

There's bright morning sunlight streaming through the window when Alex wakes.

He feels satiated. Satisfied. A little sore in his legs. Stretching, he reaches out but finds the bed beside him cold and empty. Sitting up he listens but hears nothing other than the creaky quiet of the house around him. His bedroom door is ajar, and looking around his room Alex can’t see any of Michael's clothes. Alex climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and hurrying to the room where Michael had been sleeping only to find all his things are gone.

Alex was confused. Hurt. Did he do something wrong? Walking back through the house, he found no trace that Michael had ever even been there. Returning to his bedroom he stood in the doorway looking around his room. That was when he finally noticed the note; the white paper blending in with the white pillowcase.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Alex felt apprehension start to creep in, unsure if he wanted to know what the note said or not.

He was scared to know.

But he has to know.

Alex,

I meant what I said last night. I'll treasure our night together. But I have to go. I'm enlisting in the Air Force and ship out to boot camp today. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it and I really don’t think I could ever say no to you. Please take care of yourself. I will see you again.

Michael

And that was the end of it. Until now.

They were standing roughly an arm’s length from each other, their positions reminiscent of their first kiss. Alex was having a hard time separating the memory of that day six months ago from the present. He felt like he should be saying to Michael ‘Okay, talk’.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you enlist?" Alex asked instead, not bothering to try and hide his hurt and confusion.

Michael's expression shifted, and he cast his eyes down. Alex hoped he felt guilty, at least a little.

Alex had spent days after Michael had left feeling angry. He felt lied to, and used. And he didn’t even have anyone he could talk to. He didn’t know what Max or Isobel knew; Liz was gone, but he couldn’t talk to her, or Maria, anyway because he’d never told them about Michael to begin with. He wouldn’t out Michael just because he’d been left feeling like a jilted lover. They weren’t boyfriends, they’d made no promises…but none of that was of any comfort to Alex, who still felt abandoned.

It had taken Alex a bit of time to move on; knowing Michael would be back, knowing without a doubt he’d see him again and have the chance to confront him about the way he left; that was what gave him the strength to move past the hurt. Or at least he’d thought he’d moved past it.

"I joined up to protect myself," Michael responded, looking up again and Alex could see pleading in his expression, he could see a yearning from Michael for him to understand.

But Alex didn't understand; this was all seemingly out of the blue. Michael had never spoken positively of the military, in fact he'd outwardly criticized it many, many times.

"To protect yourself from what?" Alex asked, apprehensively.

"I found something, when I was staying at your house," Michael paused, "In the tool shed. In your dad's stuff. A folder of old photographs from 1947. From the crash. The UFO crash. Photos of your grandfather."

"What?” Alex leveled an incredulous look, a smile playing on his lips because...this was a joke, right?

But Michael’s expression never wavered, and Alex felt the absurdity he felt about what Michael was saying fade. He was being serious, and Alex didn’t know what to make of that.

“Michael-," Alex arched his brow and sighed before looking down and shaking his head. Why would Michael go back to that shed? And why search through his dad’s stuff? And…UFO’s?

Alex felt a seed of anger start to blossom in his gut. If Michael couldn't even be honest with him...

"Alex," Michael took another step closer, his hand lifting Alex's chin so they were looking each other in the eye, "I'm serious."

And for whatever reason, Alex’s doubt began to fade and he started to believe him. He wasn't sure he believed the UFO part (though his granddad had been stationed in Roswell in the late 40s…), but he believed Michael's motivation; he believed Michael believed it and for the moment that was enough.

“Fine,” Alex sighed and Michael dropped his hand, “So? What does a UFO crash have to do with you, or joining the military? Do you actually believe in that stuff?”

Alex sensed he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a shift in Michael’s expression, microscopic though it was, and Alex saw it. His guard went up; not completely, but it was there. Alex could see hesitation in Michael’s expression.

“Sorry, I-,” Alex started but was cut off.

"I'm an alien, Alex. And if your dad ever gets out of prison, I'll be in a position to protect of us from him and anyone else who might want to hurt us."

“You’re…what? Us? Who is us?" Alex stumbled, choosing to ignore for the moment the giant bombshell Michael just dropped on him.

"Me. Max. Isobel," Michael said, slowly, and Alex stared, the realization all this was really happening starting to sink in, things beginning to make sense to him.

“We found out your dad was part of a secret military project studying the crash and when he got sent to prison it was the perfect opportunity to try and find out more,” Michael said, slowly, and Alex felt his heart sink.

Not because of the alien stuff – which to be honest was still too absurd to even wrap his head around – no, it was because that meant…

“Did you only stay with me so you could snoop through my dad’s stuff?” Alex took a step back, his resolve crumbling as his heart started to crack. He’d been invested, he’d had real, true feelings for Michael and if it turned out they weren’t really reciprocated…well Alex wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“No. No!” Michael started to shuffle closer, but stopped when Alex held up his hands.

“No. I didn’t,” Michael clenched his jaw.

“Okay, maybe at first that was the plan, but I stayed because I wanted to. I found that stuff the first night I was there. I could have left right then, but I stayed. I stayed. For you.”

Alex crossed his arms and leveled a hard stare at Michael, trying to make sense of the changes in him. The Michael standing before him had gone through basic training; had been brainwashed by the US military complex. Alex might not be in, but he knew how it went. His dad was in (or had been), his brothers were all in. He’d seen firsthand how they’d each been changed after going through basic.

But Michael…the longer Alex stared the more he saw the same Michael he knew four months ago; the one he’d always known. The one he’d had the greatest night of his life with.

"I’ll always stay for you. And come back for you. And protect you," Michael added, "I'll always be here to protect you from him or anyone else. I refuse to ever let anything like that,” Michael indicated to Alex’s hand, “happen again."

"Alien?" Alex questioned, trying to hide the ridiculousness he felt in saying the word; seeing Michael stiffen slightly before he nodded, never breaking eye contact with Alex.

"I’ll tell you everything I know," Michael said softly, arm reaching out to gently grip Alex's bicep, and when Alex didn’t pull away he smiled.

Aliens. An alien. Michael.

Alex softened, relaxing his posture and arching his brow slightly.

The one thing Alex knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was he didn't want Michael to leave again. He didn't want Michael to walk away, or look away, or stop touching him. Alien or not, it was Michael, and that trumped everything else.

Michael let go of Alex's arm and Alex immediately reached out to grasp Michael's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of his hand. Alex looked at their hands, Alex’s showing the visible scars of the physical damage from their first time together, Michael’s showing the undetectable scars of a possible coming war, the potential scars of the unknown future that lay ahead of them.

"Okay," Alex breathed, looking up to meet Michael's gaze again.

Alex was nervous, and curious. He was scared. Not of Michael (or the others) but of the unspoken intention behind Michael being in the Air Force and what that might mean. Alex was scared for Michael. And he hoped he was making the right decision; he hoped they both were making the right decision.

And even if they still barely knew each other, Alex knew enough (Michael was an alien! That was huge!). Alex knew he was safe with Michael and that Michael would never hurt him or allow him to be hurt; Alex knew Michael was safe with him, and apparently Michael knew that too. It made Alex feel so incredibly happy to know Michael trusted him enough to reveal such a big secret to him.

"Okay?"

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched Michael's eyes move down to his mouth then back again.

"I love you, Alex," Michael murmured softly, invading Alex's personal space as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him softly, tenderly.

Alex wanted to say it back, but thought he'd just enjoy the kiss first. There'd be time to say it back after.

AO3 link

[hallodraws]

Our Confessions | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Wordcount: 3,290

Genre: Male!Reader x Peter Parker/Spider-Man | Marvel/Insomniac’s Spider-Man (PS4) Christmas Special Summary: “You’re out trying to buy the perfect gift for your boyfriend, Peter. But when criminals step in to destroy Christmas for NYC, you’re caught in the middle of it. Lucky for you, there’s always Spider-Man.”

Warnings: mention of weapons

Author’s Notes: I know I’m late, but Christmas this year was exhausting. I had something ready for you guys two days ago but I wasn’t happy with it. So after some rewrites, I finally have something I’m proud of for you guys. For any new readers, this special is a direct continuation of the Thanksgiving story found right here. I hope you guys had a wonderful holiday, and if you’d like me to continue with this “Holiday Series” please let me know in the comments below. :)

You walk through the busy streets of Times Square, blanketed in a sea of lights and snow. It's December 21st, and the city is bustling with last-minute shoppers - yourself included. You spent the majority of the day walking from store to store, list in hand, checking off the various things you still had to get. It wasn't your fault you waited so long, at least not entirely. In your defense, you weren't so much shopping today as you were picking things up. God bless the internet; you were able to buy things online early, that way you could retrieve them at the store just in time for Christmas. After a few hours of walking, you finally made it to the last name on your list - Peter.

It's been about a month since you and him got together - all from a double confession at F.E.A.S.T on Thanksgiving. The memory of that day still warms your heart, even on this chilly late December evening. You and Pete officially began dating about a week after that. He took things slow, and that was okay. You didn't mind, because you've been there before (more times than you'd like to admit). You were just happy to have Peter look at you the way you've looked at him for so long.

You make your way into the watch shop, just a few blocks away from the hustle and bustle of the square. Peter was perfect - mostly. At times he was a bit dodgy, often late to dates, or even having to cancel plans altogether. But this little quip quickly became an inside joke between you two. There were no hard feelings, he was busy and so were you. You're both adults, and he always made up for it in the end. It even gave you the perfect idea for a gift

A few weeks back, you saw the most beautiful watch online. It was out of stock at the time, but luckily it's back just in time for Christmas. You thought to yourself how cute and meaningful it'd be to give him a watch. You joke about how now he'd never be late anymore, you'd laugh, and you'd kiss. Perfect Christmas. You find yourself smiling as you make your way to the counter.

"Why hello. Can I help you, sir?" The kind old man said from behind the glass casing, shimmering with dozens of gold and silver pieces.

"Yes, I'm (Y/N). I'm here to pick up an online order." You waste no time showing him the receipt you printed out earlier from home, as well as your ID to confirm identification. You've been doing this dance all day in so many stores; you knew it by heart by now.

"Oh yes!" He happily exclaimed, pulling a small black bag from just out of view, "My newest favorite from our collection. Is it a gift?"

"Yes, it is. For someone very special." You have a bit of a giggle to your voice. You can't help it.

"Well, I can guarantee they'll love it," He places the bag in your hand. You want to do a quick check, so you dig inside and open the box, eager to see it in person. You didn't think it was possible, but it looks even better than it did online. The way the gold accents sparkled against the matte black remind you of stars twinkling in the night sky. It was perfect in every way. You can feel your blood pumping, excitement brewing at the thought of Peter opening his gift. You just wanted to see him happy. It was too cheesy ever to say out loud, but seeing him smile really did make your day all the more special. With a grin still smeared across your face, you close the box and slip it back into the bag.

"Thank you so much," You give a soft wave to the clerk as you take your leave, "and have a wonderful holiday."

"You as well!" He returns the gesture as you exit back out the glass doors into the snowy air of New York City. All you'd have to do now is get home, wrap it up nicely, and give it to Peter Christmas day. To think, this would be your first Christmas as a couple. You were excited about it, but oddly also a little nervous. Peter said he has a surprise for you - something he wanted to tell you in person, alone. Dozens of ideas come into your head of what he has to say - some good, some bad. But he didn't seem concerned when he told you about it in the first place, so you try not to worry yourself.

You're too lost in your thoughts of Christmas morning with Peter that you didn't realize you made a left when you should have made a right. When you finally snap out of your head, you try to fix where you messed up - only getting yourself even deeper into unfamiliar territory. You reach for your phone in the depths of your winter jacket, hoping GPS will come to save the day. That's when you see your news app has a breaking report for the Time Square area.

"Krampus attacks NYC," you read aloud, "Reports of robberies by individuals garbed in Krampus themed attire are active in the area. Suspects have yet to be apprehended and appear to be armed and dangerous." You feel a lump in your throat form after reading the scrolling text on the marquee. You knew what Krampus looked like; honestly, after that 2015 film, everyone knew what the Anti-Santa-Goat-Man looked like. Horns, fur, claws - basically a weregoat in your eyes. While you loved creepy things like that, you had no intentions of ending up on Krampus's naughty list this year, so you decided home was your number one priority.

You didn't know it at that moment, but you were lost. Sure New York was your city, your home. But everything changes in winter. The buildings all look the same under the ice and snow. It didn't help your case now that it was getting late, the city falling under darkness as you made your way away from the main streets. You quickly remember your GPS app - unfortunately, not soon enough. By the time you click your home address, the last ounce of juice in your phone's battery zaps out, leaving you with a black screen and a deep dread.

You try to remain calm. At first, trying to retrace your steps - only to find the snow has covered them in little to no time at all. Your next step is to find a street with light. Light meant people and people meant safety. You keep telling yourself that, but after ten minutes of failure, the panic begins to set in. That's when you hear it - voices. You could hear laughing in the next alley. Without thinking, you hurry through the soft snow towards the sound, hoping you could borrow a phone to have Peter pick you up. At the very least, you could ask someone for directions.

But luck wasn't on your side. As you turn into the alley, you see two tall silhouettes - horned silhouettes. You're still, as if the cold city air has frozen you in place. You watch as the two things before you laugh to one another, their furry outfits blowing through the wind and their horns bouncing with each hearty laugh. You're able to make out the tiniest of lights by the masks' eyes - red LEDs to make them even more menacing. Slowly, you take one step back. Silent as you are, the two men take notice of you. But that's not what scares you. What sends the chill down your spine in the sound behind you - breathing.

Just over your shoulder, stands a third man. He too is outfitted with a horrifying mask, furry suit, and beaming red eyes of the iconic Christmas demon. You can hear his hoarse, labored breathing behind the silicone face. Suddenly, he speaks.

"Hand over the bag." The man growls in a low and breathy voice, his empty hand extended. It doesn't take long for the others to join.

"Please," you beg, "Just let me go, and I promise I--" But he doesn't let you finish, choosing instead to take the bag by force. His gloved hand squeezes the handle of the bag and pulls, but you cling to the bag itself, feeling your fingers dig into the sides. For a moment, you two stare at one another, the other two merely laughing at your feeble attempt to be tough. You can't see the mans face much, but his eyes peeking through the holes is enough to say it all. You’ve pissed him off.

Almost as if you each rehearsed it, you pull violently on the bag in unison, each of you tearing at it as if your lives depended on it. In mere seconds, the bag splits through the center. You watch as the small box inside tumbles to the snowy pavement. Without hesitating, you grab the box and sprint by the man. You don't turn around. Hell, you barely open your eyes. You just let your feet carry you as fast as they can.

"Please!" You call out into the night, "Somebody help!" You can hear your voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleyways. But you also hear something else - footsteps. You somehow find the courage to peer over your shoulder to see your attacker not far behind, joined now by his two cohorts. The sight of them all sent a chill down your spine, like something out of a nightmare - a child running from demons.

You're too lost in your head again, not focusing enough on your surroundings. You feel your body slam into a wall. It doesn't hurt (it must be the adrenaline), but you do feel the terror rise when you see nothing but brick blocking your path. You look in every direction - you've hit a dead end. You turn, and there they stand. Horned shadows drape across the brick as the city lights illuminate the men, their red lights the stuff of nightmares. You look down - three knives, one for each of them, glittering in the dark. You can hear them laugh as they step closer to you.

"looks like your outta luck, bud." One man chuckles from under his mask.

"Was all that running worth it?" Another speaks, twirling his weapon through his fingers.

"Please..." Is all you can say. You're not sure what you're even begging for at this point. You feel stupid, all this trouble for a dumb watch. You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes, knowing that whatever happens to you next is going to be painful - and it's all your fault. You clutch the box close to your chest, wishing you were with Peter.

"Hey, Goat-Jerks!" A voice calls out; the men stop in their tracks. You all look around the alley, frantically trying to find the source of the sound. Suddenly, a red and blue blur drops from above, sending one of the men firmly to the ground. As it rises, you see it's a man, adorned in a blue and red suit - a very familiar one.

"S-Spider-Man?" You mutter to yourself. He doesn't respond though, instead choosing to keep his attention on your attackers.

"C'mon. It's Christmas!" Spider-Man jokes as he shoots a web at the man beneath him, fastening him to the pavement. In a few short moments, a couple of swings from both sides, and a few web blasts from the hero's wrist - the men are glued to the alley, and you are safe.

"Yuri!" Your rescuer calls out, seemingly into thin air, "I got three of your Krampus jerks apprehended. Send some officers to come put these billy-goats back in their pen." You finally deduce he's communicating with someone. Once he finishes, he hurries to your side, placing both hands on your shoulders, "Are you alright?"

"I... Yes. I'm okay." You're still a little shaken, apparently quite visibly, because Spider-Man leans in, putting his hand on the back of your head.

"You sure? They didn't hurt you, right?" You feel your cheeks flush just a bit; hopefully, the cold air would be enough of a cover to hide it.

"Y-Yes. I'm sure."

"Good," His hand drops back to your shoulder, "Listen, it still might not be safe. Let's get you out of here, okay?"

"Okay, but what--" You try to ask him, but his strong arm around your waist stops your words dead in your throat.

"Hold onto me." He whispers. You continue to blush, but stay silent, doing just as he instructs. You lock your arms and fingers around his neck and together, you lift off the ground, slowly rising to match the height of the buildings around you. It's high, very high, but Spider-Man's grip on you makes you feel safe. You gently swing higher and higher, making your way from rooftop to rooftop. 

After a couple of minutes swinging, your surprised that you're not on the street - but on a rooftop. Spider-Man lets go of your waist, you look out over the side of the building, seeing thousands of windows and headlights twinkling like stars. You're left breathless at the sight (granted, it could've also been the altitude or the cold - but it was still beautiful none the less). You hear Spider-Man clear his throat behind you, so you turn to face him. What you see behind him practically knocks you back (thank goodness not actually, considering how high off the ground you were.)

There behind him sat a beautiful Christmas tree. It was huge, maybe ten feet tall. It was so bright that you don't understand how you could've missed it. It was practically a personal lighthouse for this street.

"This is... beautiful," Slowly you walk around the tree, enamored by the glitter and glow of all the lights, "My gosh, did you do this?"

"Yeah, wasn't all that hard," He chuckles to himself as he steps towards you, "It just took some time, some planning, and a lot of untangling."

"I'll bet! It looks incredible." You laugh. It did look incredible. The elegant way the lights draped around the tree, the dozens of blubs (all red and blue to match his suit) all perfectly spaced, the star at the top shining bright like a beacon - it looked like something out of a magazine.

"Good, it's for you." He was behind you now. You were so focused on the tree you barely heard him.

"I mean this must've taken--" and then it clicks, "Wait... what did you say?" You turned, the tree now illuminating you from the back. There stood the webbed warrior, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"This is all for you. Granted, you weren't supposed to see it until Christmas." He repeated, this time a little quieter.

"I don't understand." You didn't. Did Spider-Man... have a crush on you? How could he? You've never met him. Besides, you had Peter. The idea of a superhero like Spider-Man thinking about you did tickle you inside, but the thought of Peter's warm smile and matching embrace was greater than any superpower. Lost in thought once more, you don't notice as he reaches for his mask.

"Please don't hate me..." He whispers behind his mask. You can hardly make out his words he's so quiet,

"Hate you? How could I--" The mask comes off - and you're silent. It feels like time is frozen and the world has grown quiet. There before you, clad in the same red and blue outfit you've come to see on the news every day - stands Peter Benjamin Parker. He squeezes the mask tightly in his hands, twisting it tighter and tighter with each second that passes without you saying anything. Finally, you find your voice again.

"P-Peter. You're... Spider-Man?" You don't know why you ask that. It's pretty obvious after all. But still, you needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah." He mutters, his brown eyes struggling to maintain contact with your own.

"I-I mean..." You try to formulate your thoughts, "I didn't..." but every thought that comes into your head creates another question, "I mean how? When?" You begin to wonder if you'll ever form coherent sentences again. But Peter ends your prattling by placing his hands in yours, still gripping the mask that now slips through your fingers as well.

"I've wanted to tell you for a long time." He's got a sadness in his eyes. It almost crushes you looking at him this way. The way his eyes glitter in the night make you feel that at any moment he could crumble to tears.

"I..." You try to speak, but Peter's hand squeezes. You decide to let him finish.

"I-I'm sorry I kept this a secret from you for so long," His hands slide up your arms until their at your shoulders, "I want you to know... it's not because I don't trust you. In fact, you're the person I trust the most."

"Pete..." You can feel his thumbs glide in little circles on your shoulders - something he only did when he was nervous. And just as you predicted, tears began to roll down his cheek.

"I just wanted to protect you but... It didn't feel right lying to you about this anymore," the tears sparkled from the lights of the tree, "I understand if you hate me... and if you don't want to be with me anymore--"

"Peter Benjamin Parker." You interrupted. He looks at you with shock, surprised by your little outburst. But all that sadness fades away when you place your lips on his cheek, kissing his tears away, "I could never hate you. Never."

"Y-You're not mad?" His voice breaks just a bit.

"I'm shocked, a bit confused, maybe a little anxious - but no, not mad." You take another look at him - a good hard look this time. His hair is a bit messy, some of it pushed to his forehead with sweat. His suit looks... amazing, but it has its minor flaws - scratches and imperfections here and there. You've known about Spider-Man for a long time now. He's a hero, a protector, and a good person above all else. Now that you think about it - that does sound like Pete.

"You saved me tonight, just like you've saved hundreds of others," You cup his face in your hand, "How could I hate someone who does all that?"

"(Y/N)..." Your name escapes his lips as the corners of his mouth turn into the smallest of smiles. You lean against him.

"No more secrets though, okay?" You hold him close, your head resting on his chest.

"No more secrets." He hugs you back, his gloved hand running through your hair.

"I'm not going to pretend I understand it all, and you have a lot of explaining to do," You squeeze around the small of his back, "I mean it, Pete. I want to know everything."

"I love you, (Y/N)." Peter lets out a soft laugh, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. Your heart skips a beat at those words.

"Pete, that's... the first time you said that to me."

"I-Is that okay?" You can hear the nervousness rise in his voice again. You laugh, bringing his face close to yours.

"Yes," You kiss him, your chapped lips breaking through the cold to connect with his. After a brief moment, you break away. "Because I love you too."

[fuckyeahgakuenheaven]

Autumn Fruit (Kazuki x Keita)

Here’s the translation I mentioned back on Kazuki’s birthday! A little late, but the story ended up being longer than we originally thought. And then, uh, I kept forgetting to edit it, haha... :3

This story was a bonus that came printed on inserts with the third Gakuen Heaven trading card set. Each main character has a story, and they all come in multiple parts, so collecting all of them was a difficult task. Fortunately, the full versions of each story could also be obtained as part of the mail-in bonus for the set, so as long as you collected enough points, you could get them all without buying a million packs. :D

(this picture isn’t part of the story, but it’s nice so here it is)

Autumn Fruit

Sunday evening. Kazuki and I didn't have anything to do, and we had spent the day relaxing together.

I guess Kazuki had times when he wanted to be friends and when he didn't. There were times we chatted idly and laughed as we talked about silly things like normal friends. It was the same even when we were alone. At those times Kazuki wasn't the director of Bell Liberty School or the head of the Bell Research Lab, he appeared to simply be a normal student my age. In fact, he didn't even seem like my dearest lover, he really just seemed like were only friends.

But such times didn't last very long. Especially when we were alone together. Usually, it was like some switch got flipped... and his face became that of my lover. At those times, Kazuki wasn't my usual cheerful, friendly classmate. He had something like an adult aura, or like a sexiness that made me blush... Anyway, he oozed that, and seeing Kazuki like that made my heart pound. I was overwhelmed by his aura and felt like Kazuki could do anything he wanted to me while my mind went blank.

~~~

At the moment, the situation was definitely leading to a time like that.

I was sitting on the bed with my legs stretched out and my back leaning against the wall, and Kazuki was sprawled right next to me with his knees bent. We were both comfortably reading magazines.

I thought it was probably Kazuki who spoke first.

"This would look good on you, wouldn't it?"

Kazuki flopped over onto his stomach, pointing at a picture of a sweater. He repositioned himself and placed his head on my thigh.

The feeling of Kazuki's weight and warmth through my pants made my heart pound, but I pretended not to notice and took the magazine.

"Oh, that might be cool."

I gave a response, but I was paying attention to the feel of Kazuki on my thigh and wasn't really looking at the magazine. Right when I had managed to calm my breathing and keep myself from getting too excited, Kazuki suddenly wrapped his arms around my hips.

"It's so nice having my head in your lap."

I had the feeling Kazuki's voice was getting oddly seductive. With my hips being embraced like that, I was unable to move.

I gently petted his hair and Kazuki raised his head, turning to me with a gentle look. Slowly, Kazuki's hand reached toward my neck, and the moment we were in position for a kiss, two knocks came from the door.

Kazuki and I sprang up at the sound and stared at the door. The person who had knocked appeared at the opened door. It was Shinomiya-san.

"Ito, it seems there's a delivery for you. Come pick it up, it's in the lobby."

"R, right..." we both answered, and I thought there was no way we hadn't broken out in a strange sweat. Flusteredly, Kazuki sat on the floor right next to the bed and I could feel the extreme tension coming off him. But Shinomiya-san left without noticing any of that. Spirits utterly dampened, we headed to the lobby in silence.

There was a single cardboard box sitting in a corner of the lobby. It was about the size of a box of oranges. My mom was the sender, and the item description was written as 'fruit, etc.'

Anyway, I opened the box and it was packed with pears and apples. There was also a bag with five oranges and a new shirt tucked between layers of packing material.

"Hey, Kazuki. Do you want to eat these with me right now?"

"Right now?"

"It's almost time for dinner, but now that I see them, I want to eat these... Should we?"

And so we snuck into the cafeteria kitchen.

~~~

Since it was Sunday evening, of course the cafeteria was already closed. We quickly unlocked the door and went inside before any other students saw us. The normally bustling cafeteria was now deserted and was it kind of a little scary. But thinking that I had Kazuki with me drove away those feelings.

The kitchen used to make lunch for all the students at BL School was expansive, with rows of sparkling counters. Kazuki got out the knives while I took the fruit out of the box.

"Wow, so they even have stuff like this," Kazuki commented as he arranged the knives. "A paring knife, a melon baller. There's even a carving knife."

I didn't know the types of fruit knives at all, so I was honestly impressed by Kazuki's knowledge. I'd probably share with everyone later, but since it was fruit sent specially by my mother, I wanted Kazuki to eat it first. Eager for that, I picked up the paring knife, which looked the easiest to use.

But, it was pretty... tough. The knife was small and it took a long time to cut a pear in half, and when I tried to peel it, lots of the fruit came off too.

Kazuki couldn't just watch as I grappled with the fruit and reached out. "Give me that. You'll get hurt doing it like that."

I was frustrated I couldn't do it very well, but I handed the pear and the knife to Kazuki as I was told.

"This is how you use this knife," Kazuki said and deftly began to peel. I was surprised as I watched his hands.

Kazuki, being able to peel something that well is cheating...

He was done in a flash and the peels were thin and uniform, way more beautiful than what I had peeled. "Whaaa!? Kazuki, how'd you get so good at that!?"

Kazuki smiled a little proudly at my outburst. "I'm good with my hands, you should know that."

"I do know that, but... You're not just good at knitting, you're good at cooking too." I spoke, impressed, but he laughed and disagreed.

"That's not true. All I can do is peel fruit, I can't make elaborate meals."

Chatting happily, he peeled a nearby apple. He cut it into six equal slices and made rabbits, finishing them off by etching a leaf pattern along the edge of the red skin using the thin-edged knife he'd called a carving knife.

"Kazuki... Where did you learn to do something like that...?"

"I just learned by watching. Look, I can do this too."

This time I was even more surprised. That Kazuki... he even made a rose, using an entire red apple. "Uwah, I've never seen anything like that..."

"Really? I guess I've seen them as decorations a lot at parties and stuff."

While I was little shocked at how casually he said that, I popped a piece left over from carving the apple in my mouth.

"Hey now, Keita. Don't eat the waste. There's properly peeled pieces right here, eat them."

With a wry smile, he held out a piece of apple that was shaped like a leaf. It was right at my mouth. Did that mean... he wanted to feed it to me, I guessed?

"Keita, say ah."

Tempted by the apple right in front of my eyes, I decided to go for it and opened my mouth, biting into the offered apple. "Mmm, it's delicious!"

"I know, right?"

In return, I also offered Kazuki my badly peeled pear. "Then, here's from me. I suck, so I can't guarantee it tastes good."

"Mm. It's good," Kazuki said, beaming. But... after all, since I had been bad at peeling, a piece of peel was kind of stuck on the side of Kazuki's mouth.

"...Kazuki." I was going to tell him, but both of Kazuki's hands were occupied with the fruit and knife. So I gingerly reached out and plucked it off with my fingertips. Then...

"Oh, Keita. You're supposed to remove that sort of thing with your lips. And it was just feeling like a newlyweds' kitchen too."

"Kazuki! Idiot, what are you saying!!?" I automatically shouted to try and hide my embarrassment, but Kazuki smiled like nothing had happened and muttered.

"This is really nice."

For an instant, I didn't know how to respond to his sudden words. "Huh?"

"I mean, being like this, cooking with someone, eating together."

"That's normal, isn't it?" The words somehow popped out of my mouth, but I regretted it immediately and wished I hadn't said them. It must have shown on my face.

Kazuki smiled, looking a little upset, and turned back to the apples. In the quiet kitchen, the scraping sound of the apple being peeled sounded awfully loud. "I guess that's how it was at your house. But for me, how should I put it? There was always someone around, but it wasn't quite the same as the family all gathered in the kitchen making food..."

Kazuki didn't talk much about his home and parents. I talked about my family a lot, and he always just listened happily. I had become vaguely aware of why he did that. So until now, I had tried not to ask Kazuki about it.

Kazuki finished peeling a third apple and glanced at me as he put what had become the tenth rabbit on the plate. "When I was little, there were times I found that lonely, but of course I don't feel that way anymore."

"I... see..."

"And I have you with me now."

So saying, Kazuki smiled gently at me. Was... he trying to be nice to me? Kazuki was being considerate of me even while having a conversation like this and I felt that he really was an adult. I was still a kid compared to Kazuki.

"I can do this at least, anytime from now on."

Kazuki said, that's right, and smiled, holding out an apple rabbit in front of my eyes. "Say ah."

I reflexively bit into the tail of the apple rabbit and the sweet tart flavor spread in my mouth. Kazuki watched me as I chewed, making a crunching sound, and bit into the other end of the same piece of apple. With both of us biting the same slice of apple from both ends, when we both swallowed at the same time, Kazuki hugged me. He gently caught my chin with his fingers that still had apple juice on them, and pulling my face close, brought his lips to my ear and murmurmed sweetly.

"After the apples, I want to eat you..."

Murmuring something like that and in that voice, I... how should I respond!? Heat suddenly spread from my ears over my face and neck. As I stood, flustered and incoherent, Kazuki pressed his lips to mine. Kazuki's tongue wrapped around mine, which still had sweet pieces on it. He chased the fruit pressed between our tongues as if he wanted to sweep it away, delving gently inside my mouth.

The strength left my legs as the smacking sound of saliva rang out. Kazuki's hand supported my collapsing body. I also desperately supported my own body by grasping Kazuki's shirt with both hands, but I couldn't brace myself properly and nearly sank to the floor. His twining tongue exhaustively licked mine and finally Kazuki's lips moved away, taking with them the pieces sucked dry of fruit juice.

I finally sank to the floor, shoulders heaving with my breaths. Kazuki's hands enveloped my cheeks and he tilted my face up, pressing our lips together again. This time, it was a little rough as Kazuki licked around inside my mouth. There was still some sweetness from the apple left in his mouth and I savored that and the pleasure that almost made me shiver. It was too intense, I felt like Kazuki really might eat me up, but I didn't mind... uh-uh. I actually wanted him to do it.

When we reluctantly parted from the kiss, a thread of saliva stretching between us, I... was sure I had a really embarrassing expression. Kazuki peered at me close up, and this time kissed my cheeks and eyelids. For a while, he continued his kisses that were just touching and traced from my cheeks to my chin with his whole palms. The feel of his hands wet with fruit juice was nice and I kept meeting his kisses, entranced.

Kazuki... I love you. I really love you... I really love you, Kazuki, I repeated over and over in my heart...

When I came back to myself, my arms were wrapped around Kazuki's neck and I was lost in a deep kiss. The long, long kiss ended and Kazuki leaned my head against his chest and stroked my back while I stayed embracing Kazuki as I had the whole time. It was like that during our first kiss too, but this time, I was more out of breath and my heart more full of emotion. It was all I could do to calm my breathing while holding Kazuki.

Kazuki's lips touched my earlobe. He just touched and hot breath blew into my ear with a whisper.

"I love you, Keita..."

Wait... Uwah. That was no fair... I had wanted to say it, but Kazuki said it to me first.

"K, Kazuki..."

"Hm?"

I... was really excited. I kissed him over and over and even if I hadn't, my pulse had sped up, enough that he could probably clearly hear the pounding of my heart. Kazuki looked down at me with a relaxed smile, as if he had expected my reaction, at a loss for words. It wasn't the face of a classmate, but an adult... a mature man's face.

Seeing that smile made me kind of irritated. But unable to think of any comeback at all, I wrapped both arms around Kazuki's back, burying my face in his chest as I muttered softly.

"Idiot..."

I love you, Keita, he whispered again, but I was already embarrassed and this time I lowered my eyes without saying anything.

~ The End ~

[somerandomwriter1234]

Riley and Maya: I Think I Wanna Marry You - Chapter 8 (Married Life Begins)

Riley woke up in a large bed and looked at Maya laying next to her on her side already awake. The two girls smiled as Riley said, "Hey." Maya then said, "How ya doin honey?" Riley then said, "Just happy I get to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives. How long have you been up?" Maya then said, "About an hour." Riley then said, "Well you could've started to shower or have breakfast or something. You don't have to get out of bed at the same time as me." Maya then said, "I know. I just like looking at you while you sleep. So cute and innocent." Riley giggled and said, "I love you. You know that?" Maya then got up top of Riley and kissed her on the lips for a solid minute. Once they finished kissing, the two embraced the other tightly with their arms as Maya said, "Just being with you like this... it's the greatest feeling in the world." Riley then said, "It's too bad this is the last morning of our honeymoon. This hotel is just so perfect." Maya then said, "Well lets just be glad my college scholarship included free housing for myself and my spouse. So even though both of our funds are low, we still get to live the happy married life essentially for free. Pretty good deal all things considered." Riley then said, "Yeah. Although with our low funds, it stinks we couldn't hire movers to help us with our things." Then Maya said, "Don't worry. Zay, Farkle and Smackle said they'd come here in the afternoon to help us move our things. So no worries. Now then..." Maya then began to sit up as she said, "You prepare breakfast while I prepare a special present for you." A smiling Riley said, "Ooo. One more wedding present. So exciting."

Riley who was now wearing a tied up bath robe was beginning to brew some coffee in the kitchen area of the hotel room. Riley then heard a knock on the door and said, "Hmm. Who could that be?" Riley then went over to the door and opened it seeing Zay, Smackle, and Farkle. A surprised Riley said, "Guys. What are you doing here?" Farkle then said, "You said to come over and help you start moving late, after noon. So here we are." Riley then said, "No. I meant in the late afternoon. Like around 4 or 5pm. Not just after 12pm. Me and Maya aren't ready to go. In fact we weren't expecting company after..." Suddenly the four heard Maya say, "Time to open your present Riley." Suddenly Maya stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a bath robe. Maya then began to open her bath robe up as she said, "It's time for your naughty gift and... OH MY GOD!" Maya then became freaked out as she saw Zay, Smackle, and Farkle at the door. Maya immediately tied her bath robe back up while Zay covered his eyes, Smackle stood in shock, and with wide eyes Farkle said, "Whoa... it's one of my middle school fantasies come to life." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder and Farkle then said, "OW! Sorry Smackle. I mean she doesn't look nearly as good as you when you did that same thing for me on my birthday." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder very hard and Farkle then said, "OW! Sorry I blabbed about that, but cut me some slack. It's not like I told them about your secret stash of special photos you shared with me." Smackle then hit Farkle in the shoulder extremely hard and then Farkle said, "OW! Okay, I'll stop talking now." Maya already went back into the bathroom to hide as Riley said, "Just come back in an hour okay?"

Riley and Maya both walked down a small hallway with bags as Riley said, "It's too bad we had to wait in the lobby for four hours before the dorm manager could come back and give us our room keys. We couldn't even have our friends help us carry our stuff in." Maya then said, "Eh, it'll feel more like our place if we do all the heavy lifting ourselves. Now then, here's a room number. Riley my love, welcome to our new home." Maya then opened the door and then she and Riley gasped at what they saw. The two saw an open apartment with no furniture anywhere. A confused looking Riley said, "I thought there'd be at least tables, chairs, and kitchen cabinets." As the two began to look around their new dorm Maya said, "There's a working frig and oven which they did promise us. But no counter top to prepare food on. No cabinets to store food in. No place to eat. Nothing to sit on. Not even a bed." Riley then said, "What's with this!? We got ripped off! It's time we start complaining to somebody!"

Riley and Maya stood in front of a young man sitting behind a desk who said, "This was in the fine print when you signed the paperwork. There's nothing else we can do." Maya then said, "But come on. A dorm with no furnishings? There's gotta be rules against that." The young man then said, "Some dorms do have furnishings already present but there's no law guaranteeing that. Plus you both moved into a brand new dorm. Like people moving into a brand new house, there's no guarantee that furniture will be present. You should've looked at the photos we provided you of the place before you came in." Riley then said, "But we were busy planning our wedding and..." The young man then said, "Look. You're just gonna have to take care of this yourself. I'll keep an eye out if anybody moving into the old dorms is getting rid of any furniture there. But that's the best I can do." Maya sighed and then said, "Thank you." Riley and Maya then began to walk away as Maya said, "Only we don't have any money to buy any furniture." Then Riley said, "Well... not yet anyway."

In their dorm room Riley held her cell phone up as she was in the middle of a video chat with her parents: Cory and Topanga. An upset looking Riley said, "No!? What do you mean no!?" Topanga then said, "We're not loaning you money Riley. You and Maya have a roof over your head and food. You're just going to have to make the most of your situation." An upset Riley said, "Make the most of our situation!? Mom, we're going to have to eat our meals on the floor. We don't even have a couch to get cozy on together that we can watch movies on and..." Topanga then said, "Riley, marriage isn't just about comfort. It's about dealing with hardships together." Then a mad looking Riley said, "But what about family helping us through our hardships? I mean can't you see that..." Then a stern looking Cory said, "No Riley. You made a choice. A choice to get married to Maya and begin a new family with her. And you said you were ready for that after we said it wasn't going to be easy. Did you think we were kidding? Did you think you two were just gonna play house the rest of your life and we would just always be there to bail you out of trouble? I know this isn't easy to hear Riley but it's you and Maya's world you're living in now. Not ours. It's up to you to solve this yourselves. Goodbye." The screen then went black as a sad looking Riley said, "Goodbye."

Maya was laying on the floor covered by a blanket while looking at her phone while Riley sat down next to her. Riley sighed and said, "My parents won't help us." Maya then said, "Mine neither. And it gets worse. I was just doing some math on the food allowance my scholarship gives us. It's enough money to cover one person's eating expenses but not two." A scared looking Riley said, "You mean I have to starve now!?" Maya made a small smirk and said, "No honey. You're not going to starve. But it means by the middle of the month, we'll run out of food money. Which means... we're going to have to find another source of income fast. I mean we can just store food in boxes and have dinner on the floor but... it's gonna mean nothing if we can't eat at all." Riley then said, "You mean... we have to get jobs!?" Maya then said, "No. To maintain my scholarship and thus keep this dorm, I need to take classes full time and keep my grades up. Which is gonna take a lot of my week to maintain. So Riley... you are going to have to find a job." An upset looking Riley said, "What? But wait. We were gonna be freshmen in school together at the same time. Yeah, we wouldn't be taking the same classes at the same campus but it was gonna be kind of like high school and..." Maya then said, "We're not in high school anymore honey. You have to do this... for us." Riley sighed and laid on her side as she said, "I thought this marriage thing was gonna be easy. I thought..." Maya then laid on her side and touched Riley's chin with her hand as she said, "Hey. You've still got me. We're gonna get through this." Riley calmed down and said, "Yeah. Thanks Maya. I love you." Maya smiled as she said, "I know. I love you too. And no matter what... we'll take on the world... together."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Upcoming Chapters For the Series:

-Chapter 9: The Difficulties of Adulthood (Coming 3/24)

-Chapter 10: The Secret is Revealed (Coming 3/26)

-Chapter 11: Summer Camp Counselors Part 1 of 3 (Coming 3/28)

*Note - To read the entire series in one convenient location, click here - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13229693/

[bts-love-sweat-tears]

Julie’s Love Yourself Concert Diary

Concert Date: September 29, 2018

Written: September 30, 2018

Warnings: I curse more than I should?

Words: 3,330ish-added a few  things at the last minute (phew!)

A/N:

[Update: Tumblr couldn’t upload all my photos that I spent awhile choosing and placing, so I’m going to have to pare it down. Sorry bbs! I opted to cut my personal & merch photos in favor of the boys]

So I have one thousand and one things I should be working on-for school, for work, for my eventual job hunt. But instead I am going to write about last night’s experience while it was still fresh in my mind. I was thinking of doing a song-by-song play-by-play, but you can look up the setlist on Wikipedia, so instead I am going to talk about the things that jumped out at me. WARNING: This is essentially one giant spoiler, so I will try to put a “Read More” cut, though it’s been being weird for me lately. So scroll carefully if you’re going to a later date and don’t want to know. All photos taken on my (now ancient) iPhone 6, so I tried to choose the best ones). Will edit as I see typos I made.

I’m a little nervous since I usually write fiction instead of sharing my personal experience. Anyway, full disclosure that this is just my perspective, and I’m (always) happy to discuss things (civilly) if you disagree with me.  <3  Photos and opinions are mine.- please don’t re-post anywhere else.

The Background/ Pulling a Namjoon and Leaving my Ticket at Home

Even though I was going to the Saturday show, I flew into LaGuardia using frequent flyer miles on Friday morning. I was staying with a friend in Queens, so I went straight to her apartment. I’m a grad student as most of you probably know at this point, so I spent most of Friday working on a paper that was due. I had two friends I met at last year’s concert going to the Friday concert, and they went for merch promptly at 9, but I had just arrived and had a deadline to meet for school.  Around 4:30PM, I decided that I was done for the day and opened Ticketmaster to print my ticket for the next day’s show. When I logged in, I saw the notice that the ticket had been mailed to me. I remembered having seen that when I bought the ticket in May, but in my defense I was jet-lagged and ill on that day. Furthermore, I moved to and from NYC in that time for a summer internship, and SO MUCH HAD HAPPENED. The tickets had been mailed while I was living here and I had never seen them, so somehow it slipped my mind. Obviously I lived too far away, but I didn’t know if I could express overnight them, but I think when I called Ticketmaster, the old ones were deactivated when the guy tried to send me the link.

Anyway, print at home was not an option, so I called Ticketmaster and in a panic explained my situation. They said it happened all the time and offered to send me a link. Luckily I kept the rep on the line, because it turned out that even they couldn’t email a link because of the anti-scalpers/fraud/whatever.

Then the rep said that I could show the credit card, but I had literally cut it up the week prior since the Vendor (e.g. the store that the card was through) had switched their card to a different bank (e.g. Visa to Mastercard), so I seemed shady af, even though I was telling the truth. He said as long as I had a login to a statement showing the transaction (I didn’t, since they had opted to close the account at an institutional level).  So I called my mom frantically, and luckily she is the hyper-organized type who keeps paper copies of everything and sent them to me. Seriously, Mom for the win!  I run to this print shop as it’s closing and print everything out.  I had the Ticketmaster receipt & order #, and two photo ID’s confirming my address. The guy said it should be fine, but I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. This was my one birthday gift and something I had been looking forward to for months. Anyway, my friend and I went out to a local bar near the Halsey (yes, the singer took her name from the station) stop on the L line, and I was super anti-social because I was so upset. I also burst a blood vessel in my eye  (it will heal, no worries) because of too much birthday partying the prior weekend, so I’m sure I was a (sour) sight to behold.

I slept poorly for obvious reasons, and left the apartment around 7AM, and arrived to Prudential center around 8:30ish. There were only a few people outside of will call, but the GA line was already wrapped around the building. I made small talk with people outside of the box office, and one woman told me she had gotten soundcheck both days. Seriously, what kind of karma do I need for that to happen to me? She and her friends had been camping out since Thursday, and they were SUPER organized: while she waited in line, one was at merch, and someone else was holding their GA site. I almost wondered if they were a fansite or something. ARMY are a truly organized bunch (except for me, clearly).

Anyway, after another half hour of pure anxiety, they opened up will call and I was panicking, but they were really helpful and gave me my ticket after I verified the order number, showed my id and confirmed some other personal data. I decided then and there that nothing else mattered and I was just happy to be there and be in.

Waiting in line/Logistics/Staff

I left the box office, and got into the GA line. It was probably around 9:15, and the line had already doubled-back on itself all the way around the building. The woman from earlier told me that her friend had got #1000 and was only 3 rows back, so I still had some hope. Basically, you line up to get your spot in line- though it’s kinda dumb that you have to line up twice, it makes security go faster and guarantees that there isn’t a huge surge/stronger people cutting  in line later.

I wore what I thought were my most comfortable shoes, but after standing on concrete for hours, I don’t think it makes a difference. People were so friendly though-  I never once felt awkward even though I was by myself. The same was true last year- the friends who had gone up for merch on Friday I met while in line at last years’ Wings concert. I chatted with people around me, drank the two bottles of water I had, and looked at my phone. Bring an umbrella for shade and sunscreen though-I didn’t and am rocking a nice farmers burn/tan today.  It wasn’t humid though, and it wasn’t raining, so it could have been so much worse.

Even though there were tons of people, everyone was well-behaved. I didn’t see any altercations, though as the day went on the staff seemed a bit overwhelmed with crowd control.  I didn’t see too many people selling unofficial merch like last year, though I did buy a few necklaces (Joon and Chim, ofc).

After 3.5 hours, I finally got my wristband. They told us to be back by 2pm to line up for real, as they were going to try to open the doors at 3 instead of 3:30 (didn’t end up happening).

Merch

I then ran to merch, but there wasn’t much left. The fans/pickets were selling out as I got in line, and people were basically yelling “NOOOOOOOO” everytime the staff put up a “SOLD OUT” sticker. I bought what I could that was left, including a bracelet, which I’m actually in love with, the eco-tote (super overpriced tbh, $50 for a canvas bag), but the shopper bags were gone and I needed something to carry the box and batteries V3 ARMY Bomb I bought. I had one from last year that I also forgot, but I think the new version was cool because they are synced up with the music so you can change colors and patterns along with everyone else. Overall, it’s EXPEN$$$$IVE, but if anyone’s worth it, it’s Bangtan.

Newark

I was getting super tired after this, so I kinda passed on the photo studio table, big poster, and UNICEF stuff. I tried to go to Starbucks, but even though it was the middle of the day, I didn’t feel that safe, even though it was like 11:45 in the middle of the day. I’m a 27 year old who’s lived in Latin America (which is generally stereotyped for violence), solo traveled around the world, and I’m from the Rust Belt (aka home of true urban decay), but that part of Newark sketched me the heck out. Probably it would have been fine, but I opted for caution, and went to a Dunkin Donuts and empanada place right around the corner. The timing was actually good since we had to get back pretty quickly to line back up.

The second line was where the staff struggled, telling people to back up and get in order, but it seemed like staff were doing different things. Plus, if they wanted people to back up, they should have created room at the back first, before telling the front to basically “back that ass up” on the people behind them.

GA vs. Seated

I can say this- if you are short, you probably want a seat. Or if you have any kind of knee, back, or joint problems- I stood for approximately 14 straight hours on concrete yesterday. I am just under 5”5” but I was probably one of the taller people in the crowd, so I had a pretty good view. Even though they asked people to not take videos or record, you WILL be looking through a sea of cell phones. I could see pretty well, but sometimes when they were on the main stage I had a hard time seeing around other people’s arms.

Last time I had P2 seated, and the view was wonderful. I went to the bathroom, charged my phone, and ate nachos (lol), so it was generally a more chill experience. I was still super close but up a little higher and could see absolutely everything. But last night I was SO close I could see Joon’s dimples irl, and got splashed by both Jungkook and J-Hope when they threw the water bottles.  Probably 100 people think this, but I’m also pretty sure Yoongi  (and maybeeee Jimin) saw me jumping and singing along like crazy since I was one of the taller people. At the very least, Yoongi keep looking in the general direction I was in. Ofc I looked gross af with my messed up eye and crazy hair, but what I loved about the concert is that I was 100% able to forget all the insecurities I carry around with me on a day to day basis and have an AMAZING time.

Of course the whole place is crazy high energy, but I feel like last night was INSANELY high. I’m not sure if it was the overall vibe or if that was the GA influencing my opinion.  It just depends on what kind of experience you want to have. Also, if you are claustrophobic, you should probably pass on GA. The guards kept forcing people to back up, at one point even coming in with a flashlight, and people would surge forward whenever a member came close. But someone said the night before was chill, so maybe it’s just luck of the draw.

The Show

The show was absolutely amazing. They opened with IDOL, which got people hyped from the get-go. Their dancing was ON POINT as always. People were chanting during the intro videos and chatting as it filled in, so it was a great vibe once again- just super happy feeling. The audio visual part was AMAZING, though I’m no pro, and I loved all of the concert outfits, especially Jimin’s super sparkly sweater. Lots of jumping, and lots of screams. I didn’t have earplugs and was fine, but if you’re sensitive to loud sounds I definitely recommend them. ISTG I remembered hearing a mashup of FIRE, but maybe not? Wikipedia seems to think not. But they played a few older ones too, which made me so soft and nostalgic.

More on the members during the concert

Kim Namjoon

Ok, this is so so so biased, let me start with that. If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know how much I love this man. Seeing him smiling and happy was amazing. And they had a professional translator for this concert, so I felt like Joon was able to relax a little and enjoy himself instead of worrying about translating for everyone else.  He is just as tall and proportional as everyone says he is.  Everyone talks about how soft he is these days (and I love it), but he has undeniable charisma when he raps. Plus him in sunglasses, ddaeng. Seeing him so close was akin to something spiritual for me (I SAW THE DIMPLES WITH MY OWN EYES), as were people shouting along with him to “Love.” At the end, he commented how we were all sharing the same air, and hearing him think the way (I know at least some of ) us think was so heartwarming.  

Also during some of the videos, there were some NOT AT ALL subtle Minjoon moments.  

Kim Seokjin

The crowd last night ADORED Jin and gave him all the attention he deserves to have all the time. People were chanting his name SO LOUDLY during instrumental breaks in Epiphany. His voice was phenomenal, particularly the high notes. it’s clear how hard he’s worked to make it sound so effortless.  I noticed that people weren’t moving as much during some of his notes and I can only think it’s because we were literally transfixed. It’s well established, but I don’t think this man has any bad angles. Even in the still pictures I took while dancing, he DOESN’T look awkward in any of them. #impossible.

Min Yoongi

Suga was clearly happy about something last night- he was SO cute and happy. Other ARMY on the train back to the city agreed with me. His rapping was fire (duh), but he was really smiley and took out his earpiece a number of times to hear us screaming. “Seesaw” starts with him laying on a couch and I can think of no better way to capture his true soul (lol). He was extra attentive to fans, and  I feel like what Tae mentioned in Burn the Stage, he was trying to memorize ARMY’s faces and live in the moment. I felt bad because there were clearly parts where he wanted us to sing along, but we couldn’t necessarily keep up with his tongue technology :P  But people definitely tried their best.  

Jung Hoseok

Idk what I can say here that’s new. J-Hope is one of the most charismatic members on the stage. And there’s something in the American air that turns him into Jay Hope. Seriously, he’s hard to move your eyes away from. “Just Dance” was the first solo track if I remember correctly and he did not disappoint. His glasses at the end were adorable, and one of the other members called him a “happy grandfather” or something like that.  Seriously, if you’re still sleeping on Hobi, we can’t be friends.  

Park Jimin

Jimin was ethereal as always, and the choreography for Serendipity was…..salacious, to say the least. Like if you thought the “Take Me Down” cover from last year’s Festa was too much, then idk what to tell you. Bring holy water or something. Despite  the free water that fans were providing to others (ARMY are seriously the best) there was a different kind of thirst occurring, if you smell what I’m stepping in. Jimin is pure charisma, like J-Hope. Obviously their styles are totally different, but when they move, you stop whatever you’re doing and watch. Again, I didn’t even see many ARMY bombs moving during Serendipity- I think we were too entranced. I personally thought that he killed his vocals and did great, but he seemed a little tired or like he was working hard at it. Jimin was also the one (at least that I saw from my angle) that got the closest to the fans, crouching down and leaning over the teleprompters/fans/lights/ whatever the black boxes were at the edge of the stage.

Similar to Tae and Yoongi, I saw him looking at fans A LOT during the show. He was exactly how he seems in V Lives and cameras, and I’m fairly certain I would spontaneously combust if I ever ran into him irl (even if I didn’t know who he was)- he just radiates warmth and friendliness. Seriously, if I believed in magic, I feel like he would be able to influence people’s emotions.

Kim Taehyung

So many fic writers have this ultra primal (for lack of a better word?) for Tae, but all I see is a cute sweetheart. Obviously I’ve never seen someone create as much tension with their own arm as he does during Singularity, but when he’s not dancing, I just got a super innocent, cutesy vibe from him. His voice was so smooth last night. I mean, I knew, but now I KNOW.  He actually was shooting hearts at one fan (how lucky they are), and pretended to fall down when they shot him back! They were further back in P2 as well so he really does work hard at paying attention to everyone. He actually called over another member (maybe Yoongi or Jimin? I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe, to see whatever he was seeing).

At the end he whipped a heart out of his beanie (how I pray to god someone got that moment on camera) a la Jin. He just seemed really comfortable in his own skin last night, and I was so grateful for it.  

Jeon Jungkook

I had a hard time seeing most of his Euphoria performance as it was relatively early on and people were taking a shit ton of videos. He also stayed mostly on the main stage, rather than come out to the extension area near where I was. His abs are just as great in person, and the screams were (as is to be expected), absolutely deafening. They’ve talked about it in shows, but his voice is  SO stable. Obviously they stopped at times and don’t use too much backing vocals, but it sounded EXACTLY how it does on the album. He threw something into the crowd  (I think a banner) at the end, and it FLEW so far-back to P2 or further. They’re not kidding when they talk about how strong he is.  

Final thoughts

At first, I was a little exhausted after my emotional trauma of the prior day, and from standing for so long but the minute it started I forgot everything else. I was salty when I couldn’t see that much bc of people recording (esp when they asked us not to), but I understand the specialness of the moment and wanting to have some tangible evidence that you were there. By the time the concert was over, I realized how special GA was, even if it’s more difficult logistically (since I went solo and didn’t have parents or friends to stand in). I still don’t know if it’s hit me that I was like 10 feet away from them, max. It reaffirmed how important they are to me. I didn’t write this to brag, but to hopefully share my perspective and let others live vicariously through my experience. If you want clarification or anything else, write to me!  

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Somebody Save Me

This case might just be the death of a young detective. Sleepless nights and stress filled days haunt the young detective Kim Taehyung but he’s determined to find her. Even if it’s the last thing he may do…Warnings:angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder, strong language, detective au 

 Word Count:1643

A/N:Little bit of a flow issue with this chapter. But honestly that’s okay. Writers go through that sometimes. While it’s not perfect I am happy with it. Thank you to @btsstan4life for keeping me motivated while working on this and to @namjoonsbaybay for continuing to act as inspiration for a sassy Namjoon wife lol. Always remember I appreciate the two of you. Hope you all enjoy this one and remember! If you liked it please don’t hesitate to drop a like or reblog or even a comment!I appreciate them all as they provide the motivation to keep writing~ 

  <<Part Five ---Part Seven>>

Chapter Six:The Light and Darkness of Hope

Taehyung sighed, tossing another useless file onto the ever-growing pile beside him. Jimin and Jin had the sofa to themselves, two large stacks of files separating them as they leafed through their respective boxes. Bri and Namjoon sorted through files as well, on occasion discussing among themselves something one or the other had found. But for the most part, the room was silent.

Taehyung groaned, breaking the silence as he flopped over onto the floor and rolled onto his side in an attempt to stretch the tense muscles in his lower back.

"I don't think we're going to get anywhere with these." he muttered to the room. He frowned as he sat up, his eyes meeting Jimin's who looked sympathetic and tired with a half looked through file clasped in his hands.

"We won't know unless we go through them all Tae." Jin grumbled, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose and adding another useless file to the pile. "We both know paperwork is the hardest part of any investigation. And if there's any chance that you'll find a link between the warehouses and Mr. y/ln's company it's got to be in these files."

"Not really." Bri cut in abruptly. The other's turned to look at her and she shrugged as she placed the file she'd been holding in her lap. "If these warehouses were bought under the table I highly doubt he's gonna have left a paper trail at his work. If anything it'd be buried deep in his personal computer or locked up in some secret bank vault."

Taehyung scoffed, sitting up quickly to glare at her. "So then what's the point of all this?" He said, angrily motioning to the subject of his frustration. "We've been looking through these things for hours. And you're only just now bringing that up?"

Bri returned Taehyung's glare, her irritation rising at the idea that he'd dare challenge her. "Alright first off don't you dare raise your voice at me in my own home young man. We're just trying to help. And had I thought of it before I would have mentioned it."

Jin and Jimin's eyes widened, not having ever seen Bri this upset in the years they'd known her. "H..hey now guys. It's alright."Jimin tried to defuse the situation but Bri just shot him a glare before turning back to Taehyung who now looked as if he were ready to fight.

"You came here looking for our help. At least act like you appreciate it." She said. The fight seemed to drain out of Taehyung as he slumped forward, crossing his legs before him and leaning his elbows on his knees, his fingertips pressing into his eyes as he tried to rub away the frustration.

"Sorry, Noona..." He mumbled, knowing he'd spoken out of turn and deserved the tongue-lashing he'd just gotten.

Namjoon placed a gentle arm around Bri, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her to calm her. "It hasn't been pointless Taehyung. If there isn't any evidence of them in all these files then it just proves it was all under the table. Which makes the warehouses' existence all the more suspicious." Bri relaxed into his arms as Jin and Taehyung perked up in interest at his words.

"Whoever made those calls obviously knows something about this case. And they had to have wanted us to investigate those buildings." The others nodded in agreement with Namjoon's words.

Suddenly Jimin squeaked, his eyes wide as he bounced to his feet. He waved a small sticky note in his hand, a grin so wide on his face his eyes seemed to disappear into crescents. "Guys I think I found something!" he yelled, passing the piece of paper over to Taehyung.

The younger man frowned down at the faded script printed on the yellow note. "Wungshi...pass...y/n's birthday?" Taehyung glanced up at Jimin who just grinned down at him. "Is this what I think it is?"

"The possible access code to the hidden files on the old man's computer!" Jimin plopped back onto the sofa, disturbing some of the files beside him and causing them to slide to the floor and scatter.

"What makes you think that Jiminie?" Jin asked, tossing the file he'd been looking through into the box at his feet.

Jimin held up the file he'd been looking through, his triumphant grin spreading to his eyes. "I found it in this file. It's got paperwork on all property privately owned by employees. The sticky note was stuck to a paper with the name...uh.." He opened the file and flipped quickly through the papers, pausing on one before looking up to meet Taehyung's eyes. "Does Jeon Jungkook ring a bell?"

Taehyung and Namjoon shared a knowing glance, wearing matching frowns of displeasure.

"Yea...we interviewed him earlier today and he swore up and down he didn't own any property. Said he couldn't afford it..." Namjoon leaned back in his chair, shifting the leg that Bri sat on so that she sat more comfortably.

"Well, I mean according to the paperwork he doesn't own anything. The paper's just got his name, none of the other information is filled in."Jimin said as he pushed the paper back into its file. "I still don't get why you all would think the information is on his personal computer. Wouldn't the police have looked into it already?" Jimin grabbed his drink from the floor beside him as he asked this, taking a sip as he watched the others begin repacking the files into their respective boxes.

"It's a murder investigation. They'll have only searched for emails and correspondences with suspicious people." Bri answered as she stood and stretched her arms above her head."But I bet the info you two are looking for is going to be buried down a lot deeper than the cop's tech guys are willing or even able to dig."

The others sighed in frustration, each looking dejected in their own way as they began repacking the boxes of files. Bri meanwhile had left the room, coming back after a moment or two with her purse in hand. She made her way back to Namjoon, sitting on the floor just beside his legs as she began emptying out her purse one item at a time.

"What are you up to baby girl?" Namjoon asked when he realized what she was doing.

She didn't answer for a moment, continuing to look until she finally came across a well used looking address book. Her lips pursed as she began rifling through the pages and Namjoon looked on, seemingly enthralled by the quick motions of her fingers. "Ah! Here it is!" She said as she stopped on the page she was looking for, handing the book over to Namjoon who stared down at the page.

"Sunshine boy?" He asked questioningly, an eyebrow raised in doubt as he glanced back over at her again.

She laughed, tapping the page. "That's the answer to your computer problem. The greatest hacker this side of Seoul. Jung Hoseok. Dance teacher by day, master of zeros and ones by night. I can guarantee his work is flawless."

Taehyung frowned, his skepticism rising. But despite this, a small flare of hope glistened within his chest. "Well...alright if you trust him. Can you give him a call for us tomorrow? I'll text you the address of y/n's house. Have him meet us there."

Bri smiled over at him, reaching across to pat him on the leg. "Don't worry Tae Tae. We'll find her. Don't give up hope yet. Alright?"

***

I'm giving up hope...

The things that...I can’t even call her human...that… thing… did to me? Made me do?

I’m sitting in my cell, knees curled into my chest as I massage the aching muscles in my calves. They made me kneel...for hours in front of that man. He’d sat on a throne. A literal throne of all things.

That woman had fawned over him. Feeding him food by hand and telling him just how great he was. What a joke. They’re not human. They��re less than human.

Every time my body would sway..or I’d look like I wasn’t paying attention I’d be punished. She’d beat me with some whip-like thing. The color of purple crystals flashing through the air as they lashed into the skin on my arms and back. Just the thought of it causes me to flinch and whimper in pain, even now.

I know nothing but pain. Nothing but the fear of hearing those footsteps and knowing they could be coming for me again.

I tremble. Partially in fear and partially in agony as the steps echo down the hall outside and stop before my door. But this time it’s only a food delivery. The light from the slot shines brightly and causes me to cover my eyes.

Once it’s gone I stay in my spot, listening as the echoes fade to nothing.

Should I eat?

Is it worth it?

Wouldn’t it be better to die than continue living in this hell?

But no. My hunger is my weakness. And so I crawl my way over to the tray, dragging myself across the floor on forearms already torn and bruised. I know I’m leaving a trail of blood with each inch of the floor I gain… but it doesn’t matter. My legs don’t work right now anyway.

There’s meat and bread. A cup of water. And salve and a bowl of water.

So they want me to tend to my wounds? What’s the point if they’re just going to cause more?

I sigh and pull myself up into a sitting position, leaning my back against the door and resting my head against the cold and unforgiving steel.

My wounds burn. I can feel a fever coming on. One or more of them is probably infected…

I sigh. Leaning forward I grab the bowl. And begin cleaning and treating my injuries.

[exotahu]

It’s here, the giant Bronycon post!

As per usual I don’t usually make this many words ever so shit might be wonky. and also it was written over the course of a few days so things might not line up in the right order. Also, fair warning I get kinda weird and sentimental at the end there. Also I have no idea if tumblr will break the formatting real bad so heres hoping it doesn’t

Thursday We left early without much incident. Only a group of 4 this time. Me, Andy, his brother Justin, and Andy's girlfriend Sam who was coming in via plane.

It was a really easy journey. Even stopped at the one Speedway with the good hotdogs. I decided to tie a ribbon in my hair too, I always say I should do something more with it than just tie it back. So I figured I'd try it. We got to Baltimore in what felt like no time at all. We checked in and went to our rooms and waited for Sam. I fiddled with my little electric name badge thingy I bought last year. Got it to say my name and Bronycon 2018 with some hearts and sparkles. Once Sam got settled in, we all met back up to go to pre-reg. She and I were afraid we'd weird each other out but we ended up getting along great. We all went to pre-reg and picked up our badges. Then, after dropping our stuff off at the hotel we ventured back out into the inner harbor for food and hanging out. We opted not to go to Dick's this time, opting instead to go to Tir na Nog. Got my usual pub food. The Vodka cranberry (yes even though I planned on drinking later) and the plain cheese burger. I like to eat the same thing at all the places, because I think it's neat to see the same food through the different lenses of different restaurants. Tir na Nog in Baltimore is different than O'Toole's in Albany is different from Jack Astor's in Toronto. After that we went to the big Barnes and Noble and looked at books and stuff. Then we all went to that ice cream shop thats right next door. They sell tea apparently so I got a small one. Missed the regular size straws so I had a huge straw (Like a goddamn footlong) in a tiny cup (like 3 inches). We went to the bars in Fells point after that. We only got slightly lost, but we found it. We didn't register for the actual bar trot, cause you don't really have to to enjoy drinks. We went to the Dog's Watch Tavern first cause they usually have a good shot, which in this instance was a Pinkie Pie shot. Don't know what was in it but I had several. We went to the Admiral after that. It was the best as it usually is. I think I drank like, 4 of the Trixie, there was a Sunset Shimmer drink (But it was secretly the Applejack. I liked it anyway). And I had most of a Rainbow Dash drink. I must say, I absolutely adore the atmosphere at this bar. The bartender is great and clearly loves what he does. A couple people recognized me cause I sit in the same spot more or less every time, and the goggles that I wear. That was pretty neat. Got pretty drunk, decided to go back after that to prep for the next day. We got a little bit lost on the way back too, but it brought us by the CVS so I bought a couple boxes of PopTarts. We got back to the hotel and went to bed.

Friday

Tried to get up for opening but missed most of it. Caught the tail end of it though. Sleep deprivation got me, plus the buttload of alcohol didn't really help. Hung out in the harmony plaza til the apple family panel. There was a photoshoot that happened but there wasn't a ton of people there. Saw apple family VA panel. It was pretty funny. Went to the vendor hall and walked it to get the layout, I didn't want to just chaotically walk around and not know where anything was so I strictly just walked each isle in a pattern. Actually helped me remember where booths were. I spoke to an artist about getting a comission for a friend who couldn't make it. His slots were full for the day so I figured I'd come back Saturday. I bought an original piece from him, which was actually pretty cool. I then went to the comic booth. I am trying to get at very least the A and B covers for every comic, Plus I wanted first prints of the first issue mane 6 covers. I got the first prints of the two #1 issues I needed. Then I got invited to Jonny Rockets, and due to needing to finish something in the vendor hall it took me a little bit. My friends are cool and waited for me even though I went on one hell of a journey to get there. So I got out of the vendor hall which exited by the Hilton sky bridge. Figure, shit I'll just take the sky bridge on the opposite side so I go for it. Get out there, pass the other hotel (hyatt?) and what used to be a wide open plaza. (Now it's a parking lot). Realize the goddamn thing ends there and there is no way down (unless I went back through the convention center and all the way back around), and more of the bridge is missing. Figure I don't want to walk all the way back so I go through the hotel. No idea if I was supposed to go through that door cause it looks like there were unused decorations everywhere. Nobody stopped me so I made it out to the street. Realize I still have to walk to the corner to cross, but say fuck it and randomly cross in the middle to the street island thing. Then I almost died to a puddle walking on the sidewalk behind some food trucks. Caught myself though. Finally I get there and we hang out and get a burger. On our way back I managed to drop a Pokemon on the Bronycon gym. We went back to the vendor hall. Hung out and looked at stuff. Me an Sam went shopping for pillows. We each bought one, only the case though. Had no space to store the full whole thing.  We went to the whoves line pannel after that. It was really funny, especially the bit where they acted like the friendship map was a computer that got a ton of viruses and went to a "bad dragon" website. I am surprised I've never gone to it before. We went to Jimmy Johns for dinner and then dropped our stuff off at the hotel and headed to the palooza. The performances were great, although they somehow got super off schedule. I bought a Shake-Ups CD. I stayed until the end. I enjoy the palooza immensely, but those 2AM nights are rough. My legs end up being noodles and its a guarantee I won't get to bed until atleast 330. Which is about when I went to bed.

Saturday

Had a bit of a slow start but I wanted to speak to the artist about that comission for my friend who couldn't make it. Even though I was slow, I still got there early enough. The thing he wanted would have been too complex, so I came up with something I think he'll like. Then I went to the comic booth and figured out what I needed to complete the A and B covers for the main comic series. It was cool cause they just let me into the booth to look. I believe I've done it, I just have to add everything to my app to make sure. I ran out of space in my comic storage, so I only did the main series. Next year I will buy for the side series. (There is a lot less). As of typing this out, I found the shop's location. Only a 3 hour drive. Might make a trip of it so I don't have to worry about it at next year's con. Dunno. Met back up with Andy and Sam in vendor hall. We looked around before leaving to get food and make a hotel drop. We got lunch at the JJ before heading to the script reading panel with Tabitha. Usually they're pretty strict about recording at these. Usually one of the staff says something about my camera, but nobody said anything. Or mentioned not recording it at all. I wonder if anyone uploaded it. It was about the mane 6 and a convention called "boomycon" which was about an alt. universe Derpy as a comic character who rides a meteor or something. The comic characters crossed over into the regular universe and shenanigans ensued. It was pretty funny. After that we went back to vendor hall to check on something, and I bought another of those dang pillows, and these weird flow rings, plus some other small stuff, including some super fucking adorable chibi-ball plushie things of Fluttershy and Tempest (Pretty sure I posted pictures). We made a hotel drop and got food. We tried to get into the DIY pony plush making but ultimately the wait list was too long. At this point we went to the sky terrace thing. Apparently there was a wedding, which is really fucking cool! Then we just found some chairs to just kind of chill in. Justin had a mini-pizza that came in a mini-pizza box. We're just sitting there talking and some guy came up and leaned over. We all thougt maybe he had left something. Then we notice he's signing the empty pizza box? He then just says you're welcome and leaves. It took a second then we realized... It was MA Larson. Fucking hillarious. I went back to the hotel again, meeting up with a friend on the way back. Met back up with everyone else at the palooza after that.  Brought the rings I bought and was playing with them, while doing my awkward-ass flail dancing. A couple people thought they were cool which was neat. I really enjoyed all the performances. A cover of 500 miles happened, Eurobeat was fantastic. Great show. I caught a T-Shirt that was thrown. (Which never happens ever and even though it's a small size it still fits.) Again I stayed until 2 AM, got to bed about 330.

Sunday Sundays are usually always the chill day where not much happens. Woke up around the usual time and headed over to the vendor hall. I wandered and bought some last minute things (Pillow #3...). I met back with everyone else around noon. We spent most of day in vendor hall just hanging out. One thing I did, was get a comission of my pony OC. I've been wanting to for years, just to say I had so I finally did it. I'm looking forward to it. Also saw a little digital badges that you could store pictures in. After that we went to the fountains to hang out before lining up for closing ceremonies. They opened with a nifty performance by Step2Harmony. Some of the guests said their farewells before the con chairs started talking about the numbers, a little more than 5000 people. (I don't remmeber the exact number, might have been closer to 5600?). After that was a skit involving the mascots. Blank Canvas got accepted into an art school and Hoof Beatz was going on tour, and the date they were leaving was the end of August next year. They run off stage and Mane Event just stood there like "What about us... : (" Scene end. Sure enough, the con chairs came back out and annouced that next year is going to be a 4 day event instead of a 3 day event. They also anounced that next year is going to be the last Bronycon and that they are ending the event in 2019. You could feel the moment where everybody's hearts broke. There were a lot of people crying. I was pretty choked up too, and I'm honestly not sure how I kept myself together. We walked back to the hotel. While we were waiting for the elevators, you could tell the mood was pretty sombre. Dropped off my bag and went back down to the lobby to wait for Andy and Sam. We all headed down to the inner harbor to go to Bubba Gumps. We had a hour and a half wait, that we spent hanging out in the harbor and the pavillion. One of them seemed to be closed this year. They seem to get smaller and smaller each year. Bubba Gumps as always was fantastic. I got the usual Shrimper's Heaven. Even got to eat the shrimp that Sam didn't eat. Bonus shrimp! Spent 60$ on my check and regret nothing. We went back to the hotel with the intent of playing some Shipfic in the one banquet room the hotel usually has open, which we did! Another group played the pony movie which was neat. We also saw an Insomnia Cookies down in Fells Point so we decided to order some. It took a little more than an hour. But I got the call and they showed up to the hotel and handed me a very warm box. The cookies were fantastic. Every bit worth the wait. I think I have one somewhere relatively close to my home but I'm nowhere near the delivery radius. Probably a good thing because I would go broke buying cookies. They're pretty awesome. Some guy had also had a baby skunk! No idea how he pulled that off or how the hotel was cool with it but it was really cute. Once the movie ended most of the people left. After that we went back to our rooms. Me and Sam got a group picture of all the pillows we bought. I packed most of my stuff after that and went to bed.

Monday.

Woke up, got the car all packed and cleared the rooms pretty quick. We had thought to do some other stuff, but we really didn't have time. Instead we went to Tir na nog and just hung out until we had to leave. Any day you can be mildly drunk before noon and have it not be a problem is a good day. We dropped Sam off at the airport after saying our goodbyes. We hit the road after that and started our journey home. Which was honestly fairly uneventful. No one's windsheild broke. No one's catalytic converter got stolen. We made a couple of stops but nothing really interesting. Got home way earlier than I'm used to. Like 5:30-6PM. And then I realized, Bed, Bath and Beyond was still open. So I drove out there to get the actual pillows for the pillow cases. Found the exact ones the guy at the booth I bought them from. They were on sale, so they were only 20$. Then I had the fun time of fitting 3 hugeass pillows in my really tiny car. Got back home and finished unpacking.  

Conclude:

I had a really good time this year. It was very a relaxing trip and I enjoyed spending time with everybody. It never quite feels long enough. I didn't make any real attempt at cosplaying this year. Just didn't really feel into it. I did wear my Sylveon ears that were given to me by a friend though. And I had my goggles, which are just kind of a thing now I guess. I tied a blue ribbon in my hair too. I never do anything with it and I guess I decided now was the time. I think I'm going to do that more often from now on. Next, I am beyond incredibly sad that next year is the last one. Bronycon has been one of the big things I look forward to doing each year. It's easily been one of the best cons I've ever been to. The atmosphere was great, the staff was great. The con ending will also mark the end of a 12 year tradition for me of going down to Baltimore for a con. The only year I wasn't able to go to was 2010 because there was just no way I was going to be able to swing it. Aside from that, I went to Otakon from 2006 until 2012. I had honestly kinda burned out on that though and wasn't sure if I was gonna go back, but it would be shortly after returning from the 2012 Otakon, Bronycon announced that they were gonna move to the Baltimore Convention Center in 2013. Some other friends were interested in going, and since I knew the area so well, we decided to go for it. I went every year after that. Hell, it's how I ended up meeting Andy (which is a pretty funny story all on it's own), it's also how I ended up recconecting with another friend of mine from way back in the day as well as others. There were good times and adventures to be had outside the Con as well. Bubba Gumps, the bar trot in Fells Point(that goddamn Trixie drink, looked like something I'd never have been able to drink, but it is easily my favorite alcoholic drink that has ever existed. I really hope I can get the recipe next year), the bigass barnes and noble, the aquarium, the pavillion. It seems like every year it gets better and I've never felt bored of it or burned out. I am going to miss this immensely, I suppose I'll have to find another con to go to, or atleast other adventures to have but one thing is for sure, I'm never going to forget any of this. All the good times that we've had, or this big thing I've been a part of or this place that has brought me so much joy over the years.

(Once next year ends and I walk out of that convention center for the last time, I am going to be a complete goddamn mess. It's going to be a terrible day for rain...)

Also, though I don't know if you'll ever read it, as I don't think we've spoken in several years now, to the person who convinced me to go to that first Otakon back in '06, Thank you. For introducing me to this place, and setting off a real wacky series of adventures. I don't know if any of this would have happened if you hadn't convinced me to come down here all those years ago. Once again, thank you, and I hope you're doing well.

tl;dr Good fuckin' con, but Pete fuckin' sad.

[adherentmouser]

Things To Look For In A 4g Wifi Router

4G LTE networks have actually come a very long way considering that the 3G days. It is certainly not unheard of to have a 4G link that can easily offer throughput of 10s of Mbps (Megabits every second) downlink and also several Mbps uplink. Although these amounts are a lot lower than what academic 4G vowed, it is actually still quite impressive, particularly thinking about that you may certainly not have the ability to get identical fees coming from a wired broadband hookup relying on your location.

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4G systems are unforeseeable. This suggests that although in best locations, atmospheres and opportunities, the performance of a 4G cable box could be amazing, there is no guarantee of accomplishing that result every single opportunity. Actually, due to fast-fading, slow-fading, network congestion and numerous some others factors, your performance might differ substantially within only a few milliseconds, or perhaps millimeters. Therefore, it is secure to suppose that 4G systems are actually, as well as are going to stay erratic.

The companies you make use of make a difference. Oddly sufficient, there is no crystal clear winner one of service providers, as they generally excel in various parts. Some companies have the largest protection region, some carriers possess the most ideal urban efficiency, some are actually better in backwoods etc. So, you should commonly anticipate functionality variety based upon providers. It is not unusual to find one carrier outperform one more in a particular location at a particular time, while the following day the roles might switch. It is helpful for yourself to take a look at  muama ryoko review to recognize the details of the product.

Factors and functions you need to think about in muama ryoko.

What's your make use of situation?

This is actually probably the absolute most essential think about identifying the components you require to try to find in a 4G router: exactly how will you be actually using the 4G router? Is this for a store as a back up on an existing key wired connection (picture the back up Internet for a POS sign up)? Is actually the 4G router going to be actually made use of in a specialty car (envision a police vehicle along with monitoring electronic cameras)? Or even will you be actually using the muama ryoko as an alternate household Internet accessibility?

Do you possess an industrial use situation for the 4G router?

Just in case your objective is to utilize a 4G router in a commercial application, including a data backup connection for a division workplace, or as a major connectivity for a short-lived or even mobile office, at that point your 4G router needs to have to assist some state-of-the-art features consisting of firewall program, broadband bonding and also application centric marketing. Essentially, you want to possess the 4G router ability within your main router, like an SD-WAN router with Broadband Bonding abilities. In this arrangement your wired line can failover on to a bonded set of 4G connections. Bonding 2 or additional 4G cordless relationships will definitely provide certainly not just a broader bandwidth and greater throughput yet are going to likewise provide self-healing abilities for the web traffic discussing the 4G system.

Will your Wi-fi router be your failover or major connection.

If your 4G router is actually heading to be actually bring your website traffic constantly, i.e. will definitely be your major means of Internet connection for your workplace, specialized auto or even similar, after that our company highly advise 4G routers along with more than 2 mobile 4G links. Going back to our highway comparison, this are going to imply a bigger capacity road to bring more vehicles effortlessly. For failover-only situations, where the 4G links need to maintain the connection alive for only a limited time, having merely pair of links might be good enough. Our company still caution against a solitary 4G failover for the adhering to cause.