#the people she turns into gods are people who challenge the norm and seem capable of escaping the neighborhood

[lilacerull0]

what if i made a lila cerullo + religion post and it's just people she turns into gods... what then

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond : CSSNS 2020

It’s finally here! Yaaaay! Here’s my @cssns​ for 2020, Majestically Too Far Beyond, title based on the Poem written by Komal Kapoor. You can read my explanation of how this mess all got started Here. Art is by @kmomof4​ and I threw in some too for fun. 

Summary :  Emma Swan has never been that type of girl, you know, the one that cries and sinks into a pint of ice cream after a break-up. She's never ever cared about anyone other than completely out of survival, but then came Neal, and then came the final big break up with someone maybe she sort of kind of loved. So now she is one of those girls who are homeless, living with her adopted brother and his wife at their farm in a long abandoned Victorian keeper's home, desperately trying to save to get her own place while working her difficult government job and as a merc witch on the side.  When a desperate Witch calls on her to do a spell, it's all bad news - but then said Witch revealed a mountain of gold coins, and whimpered that Emma is her only hope. How can she not be a bad ass magic savior for this poor soul? All seems to be well, until the consequences are suddenly very real.  Killian may be a Demon, a fallen Angel that now delights in the practice of revenge, but first and foremost he's a gentleman. Sort of.  Especially when his ruddy Angel brother is focused on bureaucracy and keeping mankind out of chaos, while Killian barely keeps his denizens as safe as he can in a world that wants Demons dead. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. When Killian goes above to plead for more safety laws in the metropolis of Hyperion Hills, the city that lies over a major portal to hell, he does not expect to meet a council that the elemental five sit on. He especially doesn't expect that the council would ever take him seriously in his campaign for demon safety. Regina, Snow, Ariel, Elsa, and Belle seem dead set on making it their pet project - each for their own very different reasons. Especially when they bring up hiring a tempestuous security consultant, Emma Swan. When they adjourn, he can say that he is optimistically apprehensive. An optimistic Demon never leads to good things, unless by good things you mean throwing back rum while chasing a pretty woman for plundering. He's unsure of what to expect when challenged to do shot for shot by a mysterious blonde Witch, who didn't care who (or what) he is, but he does like a challenge. Too much in fact, the challenge raising the stakes, because from there on it becomes a blur, and yeah, he's bloody well in it now. The idea of a contract sounds fantastic when they stumbled into the strange tower, half naked and wanting. It's the ritual she does instead that he should have been paying attention to. So, maybe now he's missing a hand, and has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, his and someone else's, a mirror's accursed magic the only thing to tell him what took place: he's a prisoner until someone lets him free… And a woman that he’s positive did not exist in his life yesterday, who just happens to not only be a Witch but a complete stranger, is pregnant with his child. 

Rated E, but really falls in at more of a M. Fluffy angst with some adult themes and hinted undertones.  READ ON AO3 HERE.

Chapter 1 - Long ago, eclipses were feared as well:

To say that the Jones 'Brothers' had been fighting since time began, was not an understatement, but also not exactly truthful. They had actually been fighting before recorded time, and before there was even a concept of the perception of anything besides the aether or eternity.

That's why he'd fallen, actually. Loss was a powerful motivation, enough even to question the utmost Authority - and the Authority despised questioning. Fighting was in the nature of the divine Celestials, as it seemed, and in Her infinite curiosity that She defined as 'Wisdom', God had let Lucifer burn too brightly. Their war was a lover's jealous quarrel turned violent. 

Although Liam was created moments before Killian, they were brothers (as it were) even amongst a host of angels, and they were close regardless of their stubborn spats. They fought over the world and its workings, Liam given a flaming sword while Killian was given books. They fought over knowledge of the divine arts, arguing whether humans were worthy of the Arcane. They fought over Killian's love of a mortal woman, and his questioning of commandments. 

They fought over Killian standing behind Lucifer, and Liam fought Killian right before he fell. In some ways, it was Liam's own hand that pushed Killian, but in his last angelic act, Killian forgave his brother. 

While Earthborne and some remnant Angels believed Demons were not capable of love, they were of course wrong. Demons loved, lost, and forgave just as any others. Even after the schism, even after years of passive aggressive pettiness between both sides, Demons were still seen as wayward, dark, demented creatures. Angels had done little to fight this stereotype, instead reveling in their continued status as goodwill ambassadors. 

Even their name amongst mortals was a cosmic joke, the Creator and her lover-made-antagonist too long gone to bother with proper names. They were Angels or Demons to some cultures as humans grew on God's abandoned project, while others called them by their new names. 

The Angel Diana was called a Goddess alongside Hecate, Freya, Gabriel, Uriel, and many others. The Demons Zeus, Odin, Loki, Hades, and Poseidon happily took on roles that suited their carnal needs. Angels mixed with mortals along with Demons, God's secret seeds of elemental magics taking life along beside them as Druids, Fae, and Elementals.  Some of the Celestials even birthed life as their lost parents had, Demons begetting Demons, Angels begetting Angels, and everything or anything in between. 

Humans gained magical prowess as the world changed, Witches, Druids, Warlocks, Mortismals, and Mesmerels becoming the norm for human bloodlines. 

Still, Demons were given less, all because God had cursed them irrevocably before disappearing with Lucifer into the abyss. They were cellularly different now than any of the Angels they had once been, a yoke around their neck that they could be forced to obey. Like Angels, they could be worshipped, called, trapped, or contracted even as their powers and bodies twisted into the curse stained strangeness God graced them with. They were looked on with disgust, pity, horror, and anger for it despite their best attempts.

Which was why his sodding Ponce of a brother working as an Angel ambassador for a Prince of Hell was so important - and so bloody frustrating. 

It wasn't as if being a Prince of Hell wasn't stressful enough - his people always under siege or afraid of some Witch summoning them to place a brand, then using them as a charcuterie board - no. It was that his brother was a baked potato when it came to convincing the public they were not what millennia of ingrained hatred had established Demons as. 

Bosch had died before Killian could uppercut him, regardless of his depiction of Liam as a trumpeting ferret bird or the even less flattering version of Killian. Dante had been another great PR stunt his brother had botched miserably. The Rings of Hell weren't even used, Lucifer gone before he could put God's plans for punishment into place. Now as a museum and reenactment park, it was a popular attraction that helped generate funds for the denizens that lived in the spacial plane that surrounded it, but Dante's review had been swayed by Liam taking him into The Kingdom right after. How could Hell ever live up to the paradise God herself had planned for humans? Only Cedar Point, Busch Gardens, Disney, or Universal Studios could come close as far as themed parks. It was a complete disaster. 

This newest idea of Killian sitting on the board of Hyperion Heights to work with the world's premier intersectional coven, 'StoryBrooke', was another terrible idea in the making, and Killian had no qualms letting his brother know it.

"This is absolutely ridiculous Liam," Killian gritted out, itching under the glamor that made him look mortal. Being confined in a skin suit had his molecules vibrating so loudly he could hear his canines, starlight and cosmic fire sending pinpricks of goose flesh down the dark hairs of his arms and legs. Wearing this was torture enough without Liam staring at him in disdain, his own heavenly image unblemished. Even his halo was a polished gold around his fat head. "While I am a dashing rapscallion in my original skin, don't you think it's bad form for them to see me like this instead of how I actually look? Isn't the point of this to show that even if we're not as pretty as your lot, we're still beings that deserve respect?"

Liam grunted, rolling his eyes. Blue fire from explosions of stars and galaxies lit in mirrors of Killian's own, but framed by rosy cheeks and tawny curls instead of moving shadow, a ghoulish pallor, and dark hair the color of ink or raven's feather. The Angelic glamor contained the haze of darkness that moved like smoke around him, the length of his fingers and claws, and made his flesh look pale but not tinted the color of the universe's light. It did not hide his horns (remnants of shattered halo) or his twitching tail if someone chose to leave eyes on him too long, but that was another Demonic burden to bear. 

"First impressions, little brother. Even the most progressive Witch is still a Witch. I'd rather them see you like this instead of wondering if you truly need all your giblets."

Killian swallowed hard, nodding once before grumbling, "Younger brother. Younger."

"Go over your notes again. You'll need to be your nauseatingly charming self for this, especially if they bring the males in their midst," Liam asked of him, and Killian looked out the dark windows of the car as his tail moved in agitation. 

"Regina. Head of the Coven, Witch and Mortismal that inherited her throne from her mother. Began the integration method and broke away from the Misthaven Coven to create the StoryBrooke one," Killian intoned. 

"Right. She's a tough nut too, and her ghosts do the most of her dirty work. She's not someone to cross unless you want your chairs stacked to the ceiling every morning by some bloody poltergeist." 

"Aw, well, I'm unfortunately haunted by you already, I doubt a poltergeist could do more damage." Killian slanted a look at his brother, who gave an annoyed huff as his pure white feathers ruffled. Killian was thankful in part that he did not have wings at all times, even if the trade off was painful. "While Regina is the head of the Coven, the head of the Council is Elsa Frost of the Frost twins. She's a direct descendant of the Giant Ice Sorceresses with powerful magic, but her passion is creating legislation for Hyperion Heights. Her sister Anna is the family's public relations face, and runs their fashion empire, Arendelle Designs with her Druid husband."

"Good. Good, tell me about Ariel Poisson."

"Siren and Mermaid, with four years on the council. Made history as the first water Elemental to sit on the council, beating the long seated Witch, Ursula, by a large margin. Opponents argue that her father's position as King of the seas and his dominion over fair weather and fishing made voters nervous to not cast ballots for her. Her campaign slogan was 'Part of your World', which could be beneficial to my campaign." 

"Right. Snow Blanchard?" 

"Would-be heir to the Misthaven Coven who ended its elitist reign by breaking tradition and leaving, sending them into chaos." Killian smirked. "She sounds like someone who I could get along with."

"She gets along with everyone except her family, which is more than normal it would seem," Liam replied back, and Killian snorted out a chuckle. 

"Druid, Elf, and Green Witch. Runs a high profile herbal apothecary chain Enchanted Forest Supplies, focused on holistic medicinals, herbs, and spices. Nolan Farms is a subsidiary that sells produce to the Heights, which is her husband's 'pet' project."

"Watch yourself, brother," Liam warned. "While you might get away with that if it's just the Witches, if David and Ruby sit in today you'll find that will not stand."

"Ah, yes. Ruby Reddings and David 'Charming' Nolan. You only circled that they are Werewolves in red ink everywhere you could. David is Snow's husband, and her lead farm hand. Ruby is Snow's cousin who introduced the two. Ruby is currently in a high profile relationship with your colleague, Inspector Wolfe, and they both are very active in pack politics. Many are betting they will create their own pack if the current Alphas do not abandon some of the more ancient doctrines. Nothing new there."

"Don't forget Livre and Fa."

"Belle Livre, Witch turned Vampire, runs a community literacy foundation and bookstore chain. Known ally to Demon rights. Soft spoken but brutally intelligent. Introduced a synthetic blood that allows for daytime living via plant cells collaborating with Enchanted Forest, which made history 6 years ago," Killian listed. "Mulan Fa, Vampire. Cultural Development head of the Heights, and curator of The Hyperion Heights Museum of Art, History, Science, and Culture. Teaches part time at Hyperion Heights University as an adjunct professor. Fa is married to a Fae Elf, Merida Ursa."

"Good. That's as far as we know besides the whole Swan fiasco, which is not to be brought up."

"What Swan fiasco?" 

"Oh, little brother. If you had done your research outside of the profiles I gave you, you would know all about the criminal history of the black and heartless sheep within the Misthaven and StoryBrooke covens. It's better off that you don't know."

"Er. Well. Alright. I didn't look into them because I don't bloody well care about their lots as long as we get protection. There was another slaying this weekend. A Lower Demon."

"I'm aware. Did you know her?" 

"Not really, but that's not enough either. I owe my people more. The other Lords of Hell are fine telling Demons to stay below and never use their name, which is fine for the new blood. It's the old, the weak, and the abused that are at risk."

"Careful, Killian. Your lust for vengeance will never be welcomed by mortals."

"I'm well aware Liam. They like my kind for an entirely different kind of lust."

"Could you please not." Liam sighed, sitting back against the seat. After a moment, his brother spoke quietly. "There was another attack as well, this time in broad daylight in Camelot Town. The Anti-Integration Movement has claimed responsibility."

"Of bloody course they have!" Killian hissed, clenching his fists. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "Brilliant. Just absolutely marvelous -" 

"They were going to run a story in the Times. I managed to block it for now, but we need a sympathetic writer on the inside, or we risk them running another story with their bias."

"I have a guy. I'll reach out, he's an old school Warlock who I've worked with in the past on push back. What's their excuse this time?" 

"They said that the Succubus was, quote, 'asking for it by the way she was dressed'."

Nausea rose in Killian's throat, and he swallowed it down with bitter practice. "I wasn't aware that how someone dressed meant their lives were not only void, but taking pieces of them was fine as well."

"We know they're being funded well, and we will get arrests as soon as possible. This won't be forever, Killian."

"That's easy for you to promise when this has been my - our forever." Killian bit out, glaring at his feet.

The car came to a stop, the driver opening the door to let them out. Killian moved briskly up the steps of the council building, as Liam followed behind. They moved through the lobby with an easy flash of Liam's ID that Killian scoffed at, moving into the elevator. 

"After that display, I'm going drinking after this," Killian gritted through his teeth. 

Liam blinked, straightening his tie in the door's polished reflection. "What display? They were nice."

"Exactly. If I came here alone, I would have been in that security line for an hour." 

Liam rolled his eyes, taking down his halo to polish the golden ring. "You absolutely exaggerate how you're treated. Not everyone is out to get you, especially when you look like this. Give others a break."

"I'll give myself a break after this with as much rum as I can safely consume, instead."

The doors pinged open to reveal a small atrium, dark wood flooring in stark contrast to the birch tree covered walls. A secretary stood behind a rounded desk against the far wall, motioning for them to sit. 

"They'll be with you in a moment," she offered, glancing at them with a thin smile. Killian could practically taste her distrust as he scratched behind his ear. Liam swatted at him lightly in a bid to get him to stop, both of them tense when the doors finally opened to reveal a petite woman dressed in a powder blue skirt and blazer. 

"Come in gentleman. The council will see you now." She smiled icily. His brother stood, his feathers slightly puffed in an indication of his own nervousness. 

Killian followed a second later, walking with them as they made forced, but pleasant conversation all the way into the boardroom. 

Women sat at a long table that curved slightly, facing their own small table similar to a courtroom. He was reminded of the tribunals in the old days when law had begun, but the courtiers were far different than the strange group of women scrutinizing them. 

To his surprise, the majority of them seemed actually curious instead of repulsed or bored. 

"The council recognizes Liam Jones and Killian… Jones. These are your chosen surnames, correct? And you identify as… brothers?" 

"Yes," Liam stated firmly with a curt nod. Killian watched from his peripheral as his shoulder muscles twitched, his wings held stiffly upright to keep them from the floor. 

Killian nodded, careful to keep his tail curled around his legs. The skin suit itched as it clung to him, not abated by his attempt to sit more casually. 

"Interesting," remarked the dark haired witch at the far right. A nameplate sat in front of her, marking her as Regina. He wondered idly if her stare was due to the blood on his hands only an eternal existence could bring. 

"You are here to ask for help in creating safety measures and a potential council commitment to Demon rights, correct?" Ariel, a fiery haired lass with a heart face, asked. 

"Our major point of concern is the influx of hate groups that seem to fall in line with smuggling operations and planned violence," Killian said slowly. Attention snapped to him, and he brought up the slide presentation he had prepared. "We have had some luck stopping shipments and arresting bit players, but we can't find the heads of these operations."

"You can't find them, or you are barred from digging deeper?" Mulan asked, and he chuckled darkly. 

"The latter, I'm afraid. We have consistently come to the same dead end again and again. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you ladies how difficult a foe powerful covens behind corporate entities are." He let a grimace creep onto his face, and saw the majority of the women nod in acknowledgement. 

"This could make many enemies for us, if approached in the wrong way." Belle stated quietly. "Specifically with our good friends in the Storybrooke Coven."

Snow nodded, exchanging a bitter look with her. "We may need a professional from our coven, but she's unable to get clearance without special notation."

"Oh? Who is this?" Liam asked. 

Elsa and the rest of the coven smiled in varying degrees of fondness. "The best in the business, and in my Coven. If you need to find someone, Emma Swan can always find them, and she's good at criminal magical activities. She knows the system, knows how and where to hide, and where to seek."

They'd found what the coven wanted, and their stake in the venture. Killian caught Liam's face falling, his eyes narrowing into slits. 

"You can't be serious. Involving Swan in this after -" 

"That was all a misunderstanding, and was blown completely out of proportion. We have long held up our end of the blame and accountability, while Misthaven has shirked theirs in the name of slandering her." Elsa steepled her fingers. "If you desire the best, which I assume is why you are here, you need to rehab not only Demons’ image, but hers as well. She should be sitting here with us."

Liam tried in vain to tip the scale back in their favor, his face going red. "We'll consider this as part of our negotiations."

"Negotiations? Liam, you are a detective. You should have deduced by now that you have no leverage. You have only decisions to make." Regina closed her planner, regarding them with her dark gaze. "So, make them quickly, before our patience wanes."

Killian bit back a laugh at Liam’s sudden blustered stuttering. These witches were good, and as the meeting ran on for hours he realized just how much liquor he would need to recover. 

 "Well that went well." 

Liam’s sour expression and slumped shoulders were just visible in his peripheral, even as his feathers were still quite literally ruffled. He huffed out a noise of disapproval, too vexed to even reply back. 

"Aye to that, brother." Licking his lips, they stepped into the cool dusk air. "I'm going for that drink, are you…?" Killian glanced at Liam, who shook his head with annoyance. 

"Seriously? You really -" 

"Really shouldn't what Liam?" Killian smiled, venom leaking into his tone. "Go get drunk in a town that would rather pretend I don't exist or sell me in a fine powder to the nearest bidder? I think I'll be okay, although the concern is duly noted."

He turned on his heel, his glamor falling away in a puff of smoke. The air hit his itchy, overheated skin, his tail whipping around in sharp, agitated flicks. 

"Take care of yourself, little brother! No need to be a self destructive bastard. We lost a battle, not the war!" Liam called after him, stepping into his sleek car. Killian snorted. 

Hailing a cab with some difficulty, the driver asked where he was headed with the same slight resignation he was used to for his kind. 

"A bar, Demon friendly please. Some place without swill."

The driver nodded, dropping him at a dimly lit corner of the city. A red neon sign spread crimson light along the sidewalk, soft light also spilling out the doors accompanied by loud guitar. Looking up, the looping, swirled lettering made him smirk. 'The Jealous Flask' was as good a place as any in his neck of the underworld woods. 

The inside was smoky, deep red damask wallpaper paired with dark, pitch stained wood panels, booths, and bartop. The liquor selection was displayed neatly, unlike the few early patrons sitting scattered around. The jukebox played warbly rock music, some punchy chords and an easy to memorize refrain. 

'one two three four, can I have a little more, five six seven eight nine ten, I love you' 

The bar stools were empty, and Killian slung himself onto one, the bartender nodding his head by way of a greeting. 

"Rum, neat," Killian stated, pointing to his preferred vice. The bartender did not stop polishing the glass in his hand, but the bottle floated down gently, pouring itself into a tumbler before the glass set itself down in front of Killian. "Thanks, mate."

The bartender nodded again, continuing his work with the aid of his magic. People began to trickle in as the time ticked forward, a witch or two eyeing him suspiciously, vampires playing pool in the front, a group of young werewolves forcing change into the jukebox to get edgier music playing through the speaker system. The Clash crooned out words against the Fae Queen ruling over greater Eld, the pack jumping around excitedly and thrashing their heads back and forth. By this time Killian had moved to the far curve of the bar, his glass refilled to the point of the bottle sitting next to him like a patient date. There were still no other Demons in his presence. It shouldn't have surprised him, shouldn't have even made him angry with the amount of violence they were privy to, but he burned away the emotions with the alcohol flowing down his throat. 

A soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned with a growl. It died in his throat when large eyes met his, blonde curls falling in front of her eyes in loose tendrils. 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she stammered, biting her lip. Pointing to a drink that was clearly not his, umbrella and all, she continued. "I was trying to reach my drink. It’s gotten crowded and I thought, I mean, I am sorry I wasn't trying to -" 

"Aye." He nodded, throwing back his drink. "S'alright lass. I'm sorry, I s'pose I'm just a bit out of place here."

She smiled, blushing. "Yeah, I uh, I get that. I haven't seen you around before."

"First time here. I was in the neighborhood for business." He poured himself more, and to his surprise she pushed and elbowed her way to sit next to him. 

"Business?" Her eyes were curious while her fingers toyed with the umbrella in her drink. "Should I be concerned?" 

It was clearly teasing, and Killian felt himself loosening up around her. She seemed to read him well, or at least the alcohol was working. "Not any of the good kind, I'm afraid." He grinned with a wink. 

"Ah, so we're just ships passing in the night?" She leaned in and he could smell the floral and herbal scent of her, her eyelashes batting coquettishly as she sipped her drink in his space. 

"Passing closely, I hope," he murmured. His heart raced; it had been ages since any mortal had shown interest in him that was mutual. 

His head spun as she met him drink for drink, hand unsubtly creeping higher up his hip. 

"Would you be opposed to… Maybe, I don't know… getting out of here?" 

"Are you saying you would fancy a nightcap, lass?" She smiled from under her lashes while biting her lip, and his heated blood grew hotter. 

"Perhaps." She stood with grace as she extended a hand to him. "My place is a quick and easy teleportation spell away from here, and my bed doesn't require any sort of magic outside of what I can do with my tongue." 

Killian hesitated, her golden hair in the glow of the lights making her seem to shimmer. "I don't even know your name -" 

"Eloise. It's Eloise." She pulled him up, letting him stumble into her body. Her lips met his, and soon he was pulling her closer as their mouths slanted across one another's in hunger. She bit his lip and he felt the tightness that had bloomed in his belly spread fire down his spine. 

"Lead the way, love," he whispered huskily, grinding into her. 

She smiled broadly, the world shifting until he was in her dimly lit home. A lone window twinkled starlight, moon huge outside as it hung in the sky. Her tongue slid past his lips, the bitter herbal taste overwhelming while the world shifted again, this time pulling him apart. 

 In a perfect world, Emma Swan would not be doing anything remotely close to what she was currently debating doing. It truly wasn't her fault; it fell on Neal and his stupid family if anyone was to blame, and his stupid coven with their stupid leader. She should have known back then it had been a set up, should have known that Neal was a fucking liar. How many times did the same drawn out plot have to play out? Apparently, too many, considering she had still warmed his bed until a week ago. 

This time it was final. Emma wouldn't accept him back when Neal slithered out from under the rock he had his affair in. She wouldn't be charmed by his smooth talking silver tongue, and if he so much as breathed near her, she would take another five years for breaking his smarmy Fae nose. Final. It had to be final. 

But finality meant certain conditions had to be met, especially if she was to ward him away. For one, the beautiful loft that belonged to Neal in the Heights downtown could definitely not be her base of operations any more. Neither could the various in between places she found where Emma could grieve until he took her back, damaged goods and all. No more hotel rooms, no more abandoned apartments, no more warehouses, vacation rentals, or quiet empty offices. She had to get her own place, and it had to be able to handle her particularly finicky magic. Neal's place wasn't great for her particular practice, but the view had been killer enough to ignore it. Neal's fortune had meant she didn't need to work, and with her record (or, as his coven would sneer, 'notoriety') that was just as well. 

Working added a wrinkle to her life; she would have to find somewhere that allowed her enough space for her magic to keep her employed. That would require a hefty chunk of gold - if she was lucky. The prices in the downtown area were steep, only high profile Witches, Warlocks, Fae, and Celestials could afford accommodation that close to the capitol buildings and Ley Lines. Initially when Emma had glanced through the apartment listings on the bulletin board, she had almost had a panic attack at the amount of gold they demanded. 

Her brother David, blessings be, had been her knight in shining armor. There was a large Victorian home that lay in shambles at the edge of their farm lands, its beautiful scalloped details in need of paint, and the gutters growing weeds as thick as her forearm. But, it was within her budget if she could get the down payment placed before the scheduled demolition. She put what she had down to stall as much as she could, but it was not enough in the least. 

One big job was all she needed. One big job that she could cash out on. A dip of her toes back into the waters of peddling illegal magic, just quickly in and out without a splash. 

She didn't need any more jail time, that was for certain. 

Putting out the word she was available in the whisper market was always dangerous, but listening in was free and without a snag if you were smart. 

Emma heard tell of a desperate woman willing to give a truckload full of gold to the right Witch who could perform delicate, esoteric, deeply Arcane and forbidden magics. Luckily for both of them, that's what Emma excelled at. 

She had always been good at her craft, and her magical workings were beyond powerful. She could do things that other practitioners only dared to dream of, if they could even conceive it. It was why Neal had kept her around, and why his coven's dislike would melt away if she said she would consider joining. 

(If she did that around Yulesmas for better gifts, was it really so bad?) 

The request itself was intriguing, the woman herself a Witch that could not do the spell alone. She wanted an equivalent exchange of unbreakable magical bonds, which while tricky, was not forbidden in most circumstances. The offer was too good to pass up on, but Emma didn't like leaving things to complete chance. 

Cue her sister-in-law, Snow. If anyone could throw runes, read the winds, divine from the mundane, and not keep any of it a fucking secret, it was Snow. 

Emma knocked on their cheery red door in the early morning, which must have been a surprise to Snow considering she was half dressed in business wear. She pulled up her stockings in a one footed hop, motioning for Emma to come in as she balanced the phone receiver against her neck. The coiled cord spun around her, and she groaned loudly. 

"Yes, Regina, I know. I'll be there, I'm literally - it's 2 hours away. I will be there in thirty minutes at latest, but - Well, yes, Emma just walked in." Snow gestured at a chair, and Emma sat, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, I know it's early for her. I know. Uh huh. Yes. We will definitely put her on the table; it's absurd not to, considering - yes, I would love to talk to you about this in person as I've said - alright. Yes. Okay then, buh-bye." 

Sighing, Snow twirled, untwisting herself from the phone cord. She smoothed down her pencil skirt and blouse before looking straight at Emma with a curious stare. Her mouth twitched with annoyance as she spoke. 

"Now. To what do I owe the pleasure? I have a meeting with Celestials shortly, so." She waved a hand indicating the clock in the background. Turning to the counter, she opened up a cookie jar and removed a rolled cannabis cigarette, putting it between her lips and lighting it. 

Emma swallowed, watching the petite woman slide the purple lighter back in its space on their counter. "I just need you to divine something for me. A situation, with a woman who wants me to… to uh, do something."

Snow rolled her eyes, narrowing them to glare at Emma. "We are bringing you up as collateral in our meeting today, trying to get you a seat where you belong - on the council," Snow hissed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath. 

"Please?" Emma asked innocently, batting her eyelashes for good measure. 

Snow sighed. "Alright. Picture the situation and the woman."

Emma focused on the description, the spellwork requested, the woman's pleas. She could feel Snow's magic engulf her, and the fuzziness that came with it as she wove threads out into the natural universe, time and space sending her back answers. 

A moment passed, and the feeling abruptly stopped as Snow shook her head. 

"This doesn't feel right," Snow said, taking a drag of her blunt. She exhaled, the thick smoke swirling into the shape of birds that dove through the air. Emma coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. "That woman… I don't know. She feels off."

Emma frowned, petulant that the answer was negative. "She's a Witch, and in trouble." 

"Have you rolled your runes?" Snow began to pull on her loafers, gathering her things. 

Emma chewed her lip. She had divined, or tried to, but had not found a concrete result. "Yeah, and they said it's… Questionable, but the end result leaves all parties happy. Tarot said basically the same thing."

Snow let out a little twittering laugh, pulling her purse up on her shoulder. "And how does Neal feel about it?"

"Neal doesn't need to feel any way about it. I… We… I broke it off." Emma looked at her shoes, then idly inspected the counters formica. "Forever this time." 

"Oh. Is that why you're here so early?" Snow's eyes went wide, a hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Emma, honey. I'm so sorry, I've just been under so much stress with Regina and this council. Wait, where are you staying? Oh no - are you homeless!? You mean it, you're never going back to that creep?"

"Never," Emma said firmly, even as her voice caught. "I'll find a place though, Snow. Don't worry." 

"So you are homeless, oh Emma, if I wasn't late - no. No. You know, I'll call Regina and cancel it, you need me more than -" 

"No, well, I mean -" Emma shook her head. "No. I'll stay here tonight if I have to, but you need to get to your meeting. I don't need Regina's wrath on top of everything else."

"You know you can stay here with us as long as you need, oh, Emma, I wish you had told me -" 

"I don't want to stay here. I can't work here, and I love you guys but you both are gross with your lovey dovey hippie -" 

"I get it, I get it." Snow grimaced. 

"So yeah, I need the money. I can't stay here, I need my own place… I put a tiny deposit on that Victorian down the road, but I need the full down payment to keep it." Emma shrugged. 

"The house at the --- Emma, that place is a breeze away from being condemned!" 

"No it's not," Emma groaned, rubbing her temple. "It's got good bones, and character. It just needs some… help."

"Well. I mean…" Snow hesitated, heading towards the door, as Emma followed. "Alright then. I'm just warning you, I get a terrible vibe from that woman and I could cancel this today, we could work out a plan. We have the money from the harvest. You could work for us or with David and help us with the roll outs in exchange for a loan. I'm organized, but the help would be appreciated if you're living so close… especially since I'm making sure that house is safely remodeled for you. I don't want you to end up with the roof falling on you or some gas line exploding." 

"You worry way too much, Snow."

"I hear the future through nature, and it's generally terrifying. Nature is terrifying. Excuse me for being cautious, and wanting to help you out."

Emma laughed as they walked out the door together, Snow rummaging in her bag for lipstick which she quickly applied. "Yeah well, you're also smoking weed so potent it could put an elephant to sleep. I don't want a loan from you."

"I'm not an elephant, Em. I'm an Elf. It'll take more than this to knock me on my ass." She smiled, extending a hand to squeeze Emma's shoulder. "Be careful, okay? No repeats."

"That wasn't -" Emma protested, but Snow cut her off with a sharp look. "Yeah, alright. 

"Good. I'll see you tonight, you're coming for dinner. No buts." Snow grinned, before disappearing with a puff of periwinkle smoke. 

Emma groaned, kicking dirt as she stalked away towards her new potential home. 

 In the final days before moving from the small basement apartment Emma rented, the dingy, unused, bare studio finally found some decoration in chalk outlines, herbs, and a large bubbling cauldron. It hadn't ever been a home or remotely close to one when Neal presented a better option, the bed untouched and unmade. It reminded Emma more of her prison cell than anything else, which offered a strange duality of comfort mixed with dread. It was fitting that she would meet to do this ritual here. 

Gothel arrived promptly for their 10 am arranged meeting in a well worn taupe cloak. She looked as desperate as the correspondences between them indicated, but Emma resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. They shared a nod in the form of hellos, then Emma pointed to the cauldron.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Emma asked, and Gothel drew back her cloak to reveal her tired and gaunt looking face. 

"Yes. Let's. Your payment, with more upon completion." Gothel dropped a large purse on the counter, Emma immediately grabbing it and checking the contents. It was real, her heart soaring as she shoved it in her bag. 

"So, you are to give me a token of your will, usually blood, an animal you raised, or something that's valuable to you . Something you care about, that you are tied to that a severing will make you -"

"I give you the life of my first child," Gothel interrupted. 

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh." Biting her lip, she brushed back her braid. "That's… That's super Illegal. I…" 

"You wanted something heavy, you got it. There's a reason why I came to you; you have a reputation for doing things quietly. The reason you chose me is because you need the coin. Now, my terms. I know you provide healing. I want to keep myself young and strong - youthful immortality. Grant me this." The grin on her face unsettled Emma, Snow's warning in her mind. Nevertheless, the satchel of gold meant a secured home.

"Um. Alright. Are you sure, the life of your firstborn? That's a ways off, and the strength won't happen until -" 

"Do it. Do it now, I know the spell will be enacted when payment is due. I'm well studied - Breaking a bond with a child, specifically your first, will grant me the power I need. I know that I can't do this spell myself either, so here I am."

Emma gulped. "Okay. Let me get the texts."

Emma returned with her copper cauldron, pile of books, and spell components. Gothel's grin grew wider, her eyes gleaming at the sight of the tongues, eyes, crushed butterflies, and other more macabre ingredients the spell required. 

Feeling a low tug in her gut that something was wrong, Emma backed away from the altar. The other Witch seemed to shimmer, slightly in alarm, a glamor of some sort possibly covering her skin. Feeling even more unsettled, Emma shook her head. 

"I can't do this, listen -" 

"Please. Please you must, I need this to escape a curse. It's blood magic, almost unbreakable and impossible to escape on my own. Please." Emma heard no lies in her speech. "I admit that I have not been entirely truthful. While I was able to send you the gold easily, I am trapped, held against my will. I can only project myself to you. I was afraid to tell you, because I am desperate to rid myself of this curse." When no lies continued to register, Emma felt a deep sense of pity for the other witch. A blood magic binding was no joke; someone truly must have hated the poor woman. 

"Fine," Emma said, throwing her hands up. Gothel perked up slightly, hope in her eyes. Throwing the ingredients in the cauldron, a shimmering mist roiled over the edge as she spoke ancient words and stirred in the shape of long unused runes. Adding bones that melted in soapy bubbles and stirring with a long Pegasus feather that gradually turned to ash, she looked up at Gothel, who was wringing her hands anxiously.

"Your tokens?" Emma asked. 

Gothel waved a hand over the stained cloth; several of the woman's teeth, a long braid of her hair, and a large chunk of skin fell into the cauldron. The cauldron's contents began to boil, smoke curling in darkened serpentine tangles. 

Emma began the words, Latin, Arameric, the old tongue of the Pagans, Celtic, remnants of Gaul, flowing them together until speaking plainly to her own magic. 

"Blood of one that is two, child, mother, 

Blood of my own, tear them asunder, 

Thicker than wine, thicker than water, 

Ties that bind, bound to another, 

The womb that grows life, 

Kin cared for in kind, 

A payment for power, 

Remake the ties, lift, and unbind."

Scraping her hand against a dagger, Emma let her blood drop slowly into the brew, the words flowing out in the crimson rivulets. As she pulled away the wound closed from her own healing energy. 

"Cradle of moon within flesh, 

Remake that which is to be made, 

Your reflection removed, 

Mine in its stead.

Your burden is mine, 

Carried and held as your first, 

Blood of the two, child, mother, 

As they are born, you are cursed."

She looked at Gothel, who was still wringing her hands, long nails cutting into her palms. This magic was hopefully worth the price the woman had so freely paid. Breaking an infant and mother's bond to give to another was a great sacrifice, the magic comparable to true love, if not greater. The power the Witch would receive would hopefully free her from the curse, but also give her the strength she desired.

"It's done. You must cast your brand over the cauldron, and when you, you know," Emma turned around, holding herself tightly. Caught up in the thought of what she, Emma Swan, would even do with a child, she was unaware of the other Witch behind her scrambling to the cauldron or her deep disregard for anything she was saying. "Get pregnant, let me know. I'll handle that - Wait, what are you -" 

Gothel chuckled lowly, her brand in its arcane circle around the cauldron, neon lines of electricity like power that sparked and crackled. Emma felt her hair stand on end, small pebbles lifting off the stone floor as the cauldron shook. Smoke rose in heavy plumes, purple and a noxious mauve that made the air feel sticky, her lungs not able to fill all the way. Gothel's chuckle had turned into a wild cackle, her braided and matted hair like vines or a visage of Medusa. 

Gothel's voice was crazed, shrill as she pointed a gnarled finger at Emma. "This is it. This is it! I've done it, I'm free! Oh, you silly, stupid girl. Now nothing will ever stop me again!" 

Her laugh grew into a shriek of triumph as magic swirled around them, Emma watching as the woman in front of her disappeared. Gaping at what happened, Emma checked herself for any signs of curses or hexes, unsure of what had just taken place. 

To her surprise, no sign of magic lay on her that she could see. She wasn't cursed, the room wasn't jinxed, and the second payment… Emma quickly checked her purse, finding the large satchel of gold easily. The second sat where Gothel had discarded it without looking twice, and she picked it up hesitantly. It was heavy in her hands as she checked it again and again, realizing that for once in her life, everything was going right. 

 Three hours later, she owned the Victorian home down the road from her brother's farm, the first home she had ever truly called hers. 

 Living near her brother's home had its perks, and disadvantages, as Snow had hinted. For one, Snow was cooking for her every day, and Emma was positive she was going to gain several dress sizes if she didn't stop gorging on various pasta dishes while pouring her magic into restoring the wooden floor. 

A major downside was having her brother constantly fixing her house without her being aware. She'd been woken by him cleaning the gutters, fixing her porch, and of all things, roofing. It had only been a few days, but between his insistence on the outside being presentable and her own work inside, the house was coming along faster than she ever dreamed. It was frightening, and David kept her on edge with his very obvious attempts at snooping around. 

"So, you're done with Neal for good," he said, startling her as she sat out on a newly hung porch swing. She wrinkled her nose at him in protest, and he grinned. "And… You're making doors again."

She froze, panic gripping her. 

"It's alright, I'm not mad. I'm just - just be careful. I trust you, but I know that before -" 

"I made a mistake. I know it, you know it, the Coven knows it, and so does everyone else in the Heights that saw me fall from grace." Emma curled her arms around her knees, bitterly forcing out words. "I won't make the same mistake again. I am on the straight and narrow; these doors are for commuting and hunting skips only." 

David laughed, poking her in the side. "Back to hunting skips, huh? Damn. Don't you ever settle down and enjoy the simple life?" 

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "What the hell is the simple life? Nothing is simple."

"Well, yeah, but… I mean the simple life." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking at her with a gentleness that she instantly felt uneasy with. "House, a pet maybe, hobbies, a partner, kids -" 

"If you are trying to set me up again -" 

"Not me," David raised his hands defensively. "No, I was just -" 

"I don't deserve that life," Emma stated, shrugging. The sun was sinking lower, crickets singing in the cool air. "That life isn't for me. That life is for people like you and Snow, people that are worth something."

"Oh, Emma. You know that's not -" 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Emma snapped, standing with a start. David looked at her with a hurt expression, and she felt pure rage. "Goodnight."

She stepped back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her. 

"Emma, come on," David called from the porch, but Emma wasn't listening to him as she fought the immediate urge to be ill. The sudden nausea ripped through her, and despite her attempts, vomit burst from her throat. 

She panted, holding on to the wall with one hand. The other hand gripped her side, fierce cramping making her double over in a scream of agony. She lurched forward, unable to breathe as pressure rose in her stomach. To her terror, her skin grew taut and she seemed to bloat, the pain of it ripping through her. 

David splintered the door, his arms around her as she lost consciousness. 

She woke in an ambulance, David holding her hand like he'd done when they were children. He was always the best big brother she could have asked for, always protective of her, and always pushing her to be better. He had convinced her to trust Ruth, convinced her to take a chance with the older woman who was willing to adopt both of them, and they had found another home together. When she was scared or sick, he was right there to hold her hand. Even now as pain ripped through her, he was there. She tried to understand, but her body burned until the flame became too much to bear. 

She woke again to the beeping of machines and David's yelling, her body aching but no longer in the same searing pain. Lifting herself up to try and hear what David was saying, she struggled to make out more than just fragments. 

"I'm not leaving, that's my sister ---- How did -- she wasn't, she --- I don't know, she never said anything ----- A WHAT? No! I'm --- not leaving!" 

Emma's stomach lurched, and she shifted to get out of bed. The sheets slid from her middle, and she gasped. Her middle was rounded, as if she was pregnant. But that was impossible, that was absolutely and completely impossible. 

A knock sounded, a petite woman entering. 

"I'm Doctor Mullins, Emma. I know that this may take some time to fully process, but… you're pregnant."

Emma hissed out a breath into a hysterical laugh. "What? No. No. This is not how babies work, or pregnancy, or even - I haven't even had sex since - "

"I know, and I understand that you must be frightened." The doctor attempted to console her, but Emma could not stop her rising panic. She touched the rounded skin of her stomach, the firm smoothness lined with stretch marks. Letting out a low wail, the doctor tried to speak over her still. "It's some ancient and dark magic, but it's very real. We have an inspector on the way to take your statement, and we performed a few tests -" 

"No. No, this is a bad dream, this isn't real, this isn't happening to me!" Emma closed her eyes, trying to focus. 

" - most concerning of which is the results on paternity, which indicate that the father has non-human presenting DNA. Normally that's not terribly unusual, but this is clearly not a planned pregnancy considering your… your conception being, well, this, and the genomic markers show that the parentage is half Celestial. I need to ask, have you had any relationships with an Angel?"

Emma shook her head, trying to understand what the doctor was asking. 

"Alright, what about anyone with proximity to dark, Arcane, or Demonic magics? Anyone who associates with Demons? Do you associate with them?" The doctor eyed her curiously, and Emma shook her head again. 

"I don't know any Demons, Angels, or Celestials." Emma bit her lip, frustrated at the question. Rolling it between her teeth, she murmured a thought out loud. "I did recently perform a ritual that was older. It didn't call for this though, I don't know anything about this…" 

"Well, it doesn't just happen." Emma looked at the doctor with enough venom in her stare to curdle milk. The doctor laughed nervously. "I mean, it did but -" 

"This cannot be happening," Emma moaned, throwing her head back against the hospital bed's pillow. "This has to be a bad dream."

"I'm afraid it is all very real. Considering the circumstances, an inspector of magical law will be assigned to question you regarding the situation. Because of the issues of legality, you may not leave or have visitors until then." The doctor stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "Baby looks healthy despite wanting to grow at an accelerated rate, and we have slowed that as much as we can. Welcome to motherhood Miss Swan, and, er… Congratulations." Giving a last placid smile, she left the room, leaving Emma alone. 

Emma sat stunned, unable to do anything but focus on her steady breathing. 

(Fuck)

The single word came to mind again and again, escaping from her lips as her breath finally began to turn into sobs. 

"Fuck."

[ampleappleamble]

IT KEEPS HAPPENING

I did it again. I wrote more PoE fanfiction. I keep doing it!

My AO3 account is all set up! I’ll have to transfer my writing from my tablet to my PC (it’s more comfortable to edit stuff on desktop) but once I get what I feel is a respectable amount of writing done (I wanna at least get out of Gilded Vale) I’ll go head and upload that shit to my AO3 and link it all here. I plan on changing the name of my tumblo account to reflect my AO3 name very soon, probably within the week. Mostly because I’m not particularly fond of “Grandma Mohawk” anymore. My new name is/will be much, much more annoying to say. So uh, be on the lookout for that, I guess!

As always, thank you all sincerely for reading about my grouchy furry lady. She loves you all, and so do I. ♡

Chapter 3: At Your Service

---

One foot in front of the other, Axa. One step at a time.

The orlan woman walked slowly, deliberately, carefully making her way down the dirt and gravel path to the only inn in Gilded Vale. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on her boots and the road beneath them. If she saw one more person glare at her with open disdain, she feared she'd lose what remained of her tattered resolve and simply crumple to the ground, defeated.

And if you see one more phantasmal torture victim...

Yes. There was that to consider too. Although she hadn't seen any... apparitions manifest directly in front of her since she'd left the ruins, she still heard whispers just beyond the edge of her hearing, still saw flutters and flashes of movement in the corners of her eyes.

All the better to keep your eyes on your feet, then. Not much farther.

The inn was so close she could smell it. This spoke to the quality of the facility, but Axa was in no position to be choosy. She knew that she'd most likely be curling up on a hard wooden floor that night, but even so, the Black Hound Inn was the very, very last sanctuary she had. It was the only place she could turn to to keep from spending her first night in her new homeland sleeping on the street.

So of course there had to be yet another obstacle between her and her goal.

---

She heard them before she saw them: just outside the inn's doors, a group of four kith arguing loudly. She wanted to pretend the raised voices were simply another trick of her soulsick mind, but she knew they were too real, too distinct to be hallucinations. ...And none of the whispers she'd heard so far had called anyone a cocksucker like that.

Just relax. You don't need to get involved.

She reluctantly lifted her head and got visual confirmation: three clearly drunk people, two folk men and an elf woman, posturing and poking their fingers in the chest of one slightly smaller figure that was mostly obscured from Axa's view. She could see the other kith's raised hands and rounded shoulders, though.

Three against one? Mob justice seems to be the norm around here. She furrowed her brow.

...Something's not right.

"I do apologize, sincerely, for the misunderstanding." Axa's ears perked up. The target of the angry drunks was an Aedyran apparently, and a man. As she got closer, she subconsciously slowed her pace, trying to peer around the backs of the belligerent villagers to get a better look at the other foreigner without alerting anyone of her presence.

Yet.

Although his hood partially hid the characteristic long, pointed ears, she could tell well enough that he was an elf, and a somewhat younger one. His body language suggested that he knew he was in significant danger of bodily harm from these people, but his face wore a diplomatic smile. Unfortunately, his genteel mannerisms only seemed to be pissing off his aggressors further rather than placating them, and their flushed faces and clenched fists suggested that their patience for his attempts at a truce had been worn clean through.

He could see it too, but he was clearly out of options. He closed his eyes, pressed his hands together in front of his chest, bowed his head slightly in a show of submission. "W-why don't we... put this unfortunate matter to rest with a drink, yes? Ah... My treat, of course!"

"There he goes again, thinkin' he can buy us off." The elf woman spat at his feet, and her folk companions clapped her on the back, thrusted their chests out at the other man. "There's what we think of your fancy Aedyre coin, copperfucker!" The men with her barked their agreement, and the elven man shrunk back, obviously struggling to keep from panicking.

Axa gritted her teeth. Oh, fuck this. I've seen enough unfair fights to know where this is going, and I've had my fill of seeing dead people today. Besides, they're in my way. I'm getting involved.

"Excuse me."

Suddenly four pairs of eyes were fixed on the little redhead, three of them red and bleary with drink. Axa gazed evenly into each of them in turn, before gesturing to the building behind them. "This is the inn, right? I've only just arrived here--" here she looked pointedly at the Aedyre man for a second "--and I'm in need of shelter for the night."

The hayseed triumvirate took her in, scowling. "Just what we need," one of the men grunted, "another wiseass foreigner coming in here and mocking us to our face. You ought to mind your own business, girl, if you wanna stay in our town."

"If you wanna stay alive, you mean," the other man added, glaring at the hooded elf. "Unlike certain other guests around here who've worn out their welcome." Now all eyes were on the Aedyran again, who appeared to have been blindsided by Axa's interruption and was now staring in mute shock at his would-be assailant. "Go on," the folk man growled, advancing slightly toward the hooded elf. "Say it again. I want you to." The man grinned a predatory grin, feeling the tides of the argument shift in his favor again. By Magran, he'd stick this snobby little bastard for what he'd said.

Oh shit. Shit! Axa felt the shift too, knew she had to move, now, get between the two of them before it got violent--

"I dare you. I'm itching for an excuse--" he snarled, and before Axa could intervene, she saw the elf man... change.

His posture straightened, his lip curled, he angled his face down but his eyes up to glare defiantly at his adversary.

"Fye, yer itchin' fer th' kindlin' touch o' yer sister, ye coxfither!"

It was as though he'd been temporarily possessed, and the spirit was gone as quickly as it had come over him. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his triumphant smirk melted into a horrified rictus, as though he had suddenly realized exactly what he'd said.

Axa was just as shocked as the three locals, and the four of them stared at him, stupefied into silence.

What the-- was that Hylspeak??

It didn't last long. The drunks recovered quickly and screamed, incensed, wordless cries of rage that the Aedyre man could only cower in response to. "You son of a bitch, I'll cut that barrel-licking tongue right out of your cocksucking face--"

Axa had been too slow before, but she couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice. As the elf tried to insist they'd merely misheard him (a ridiculous suggestion-- was he trying to bait them...?) she finally found her voice again.

"Stop." She kept her voice even and steady, but put a little extra force behind it as well, just to be certain she was heard. Chanter training coming in handy there, she thought as the drunks turned to her again, compelled just so by her intensity and timbre. Axa took a deep breath.

"Listen. I know you're angry. But anyone talking as big a talk as he is when they're this badly outnumbered is either out of their mind, or they know something you don't." Her gaze flitted between the three puffy red faces, looking for comprehension... and mercifully, finding it. She pressed on, encouraged: "Either way, it's probably wisest to just walk away. Look, he's even carrying a grimoire-- he's probably a wizard. Wael knows what he's capable of! Right?"

She directed her gaze at the Aedyre man, now, and found him looking back at her. Their eyes met for only a second-- and then he changed again, quickly casting a dangerous, aggressive look at the Dyrwoodans. "We've nye quarrel," he growled, before blinking rapidly and going pale again.

"He's not worth it," Axa added quickly, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. Wael's bowels, is he trying to fuck this up? He glared back at her in response, as if to challenge her assessment of him.

"Fine," the taller of the two men hissed at last, his cohorts gawking at him in surprise. "But don't think this is over, outsider. You've got a lot to learn about Dyrwoodan hospitality. Watch your back around here."

He meant it to be threatening, and the elven man seemed thoroughly cowed. But now that she really looked at him, Axa couldn't help but see the blustering, drunken buffoon as anything but pitiable.

---

The three of them staggered away at last, and once she was sure they were alone, she turned to the hooded man. The final obstacle between me and that floor I'll be sleeping on tonight, she thought, planting her hands on her hips and hanging her head as he drew near. Hopefully he's easier to get rid of than those drunks were. Gods, that was bad...

"Well. That was not exactly how I'd hoped to meet the neighbors," the elf man sighed, his voice much calmer now that the danger had passed. He fidgeted with his hood, and Axa caught a glimpse of long, dark hair resting against the man's cheek. "I must extend my gratitude to you for your assistance with that... ah... awkward situation." He smiled politely down at her, and Axa shook her head.

"No need for thanks. Couldn't leave another kith outnumbered like that. Wasn't right." She spoke softly, but then shot him a look like a bolt of lightning between his eyes. "Could have done without the extremely blatant goading, though, friend."

The color drained from the man's face and his expression went slack for just a second, but he recovered quickly, laughing a nervous little laugh. "Ah... well, it's... that is, that... wasn't all exactly as it seemed, let me assure you." He paused, seeming to reconsider his words, and then he went ahead and just started over: "P-perhaps introductions are in order?" Here, he stood to his full height, crossed his arm over his chest, and bowed slightly at the waist, extending his other hand to the orlan. "Aloth Corfiser, at your service." His voice was smooth as silk, his movements measured and precise.

Oh gods, she thought, this lad's for real, is he? Axa felt simultaneously charmed and condescended to, a strange, unexpected smile spreading across her warm face. It doesn't help that he's pretty much exactly my type... for all the good "my type" has ever done me. She thrust her fuzzy hand into his, shaking it quickly. "Axa Mala, at yours. Now-- care to explain what you think you're doing, going around cursing out drunk locals?"

The hooded man, Aloth, blinked at the little woman as he withdrew his hand, stammered an apology for dragging her into it, but Axa merely crossed her arms in front of her chest, narrowing her eyes.Thought that part of the conversation was over, did you? Sorry, friend. You're not that charming. She waited for his answer.

"As I said before, all that was just an extremely unfortunate misunderstanding. I... probably used a term that means something innocuous back home in the Cythwood-- in Aedyr, I mean-- but unbeknownst to me means something vulgar here. It's a distressingly common occurrence when one--"

"Are you trying to tell me it's an Aedyre custom to tell people to fuck their sister?" Axa cocked a burgundy eyebrow at him. "Because I'm pretty sure that's what you told that fellow."

The man's expression was neutral, but his face was a twitching, sweaty mess. "I... perhaps... both of you misheard. That must be it. Surely."

"Fye, yer itchin' fer th' kindlin' touch o' yer sister, ye coxfither," Axa stated, clearly and boldly, without emotion. "Isn't that what you said?"

And for a split second, he did it again. He changed. It was over almost before Axa had time to notice, but the elf was definitely having some sort of... emotional turmoil in the privacy of his mind, and his body reflected it. He twitched and spasmed, his shoulders locked. He bit his lip, hard, and the odd, impish grin he was wearing crumpled into a tightly forced smile.

"...I should speak more clearly, next time," he stated placidly, a vein bulging on his temple. "My apologies."

... Is he joking? Or mad? ...Or does he just think I'm remarkably stupid?

"What exactly are you doing in this backwater village anyway, wizard? You don't exactly look like a settler." Axa let her gaze wander over him. His clothes and armor were of fine quality, but just starting to fray from constant use. His face was angular and delicate, his skin smooth and clear, but dark circles were just beginning to form beneath his eyes. Whoever he was, he was clearly from money, maybe even nobility of some sort, but he seemed to be suffering a rough patch as of late.

"Begging your pardon, but neither do you," Aloth shot back, looking her up and down as well. "Nevertheless, I imagine we're both here for that exact reason-- lured by cheap land offered by a desperate lord. In my case, my relocation was forced by opportunities for my chosen vocation-- I trained as an arcane knight-- being quite scarce in my homeland. So, I... sought a new beginning elsewhere." He smiled sympathetically. "A familiar story, I'm certain. You were told of the land offer being conditional on the good Lady Raedric's successful delivery, too, I suspect?"

Axa swallowed, remembering the smug, sneering magistrate. "Yes. Only after arriving, of course. I came here with a caravan that... we ran into some trouble near some ruins north of here, and I had to walk here alone, and he tells me to sleep in a stable..."

"Ruins? Engwithan ruins?" Aloth peered at her with interest, curiosity shining in his eyes. "...I've heard rumors about them, but never been near one, of course. Not when the Dyrwoodans would arrest you for trespassing and the Glanfathans would skip the formalities and execute you on sight."

Axa said nothing. She thought about Odema with his guts around his ankles. Calisca and Heodan limp on the ground.

"Tell me," Aloth murmured, leaning down towards the smaller kith. "What exactly did you find out there?"

For a moment, she wondered if she could just... not tell him. Not talk about it. She certainly had little desire to dwell on the events of the day, and even less desire to discuss them with a stranger. And he seemed to be educated well enough in etiquette and manners to leave the topic alone if she asked him to.

"A bîaŵac." She stared directly into his eyes as she said it, and he reacted as though she'd thrown a cold drink in his face.

Never could resist that urge to be dramatic, could we?

She instantly felt oddly ashamed of herself, and looked away from him, at the door to the inn. Gods she was tired. "Can we... continue this conversation somewhere else?"

He held the door to the tavern open for her. She appreciated that.

---

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers ! another ask for u : im soo afraid in the next chapter momo will be homophobic towards ht !! I mean except Zzx who seems at ease with his sexuality, the other boys all seem kind of homophobic. Jy called ht repulsive bc he called him pretty while he was a guy, Ht is very agressive in his advances (which i linked to toxic virility which entails homophobia) ; then both of them changed for the better bc of their feelings for another man. 1/?

Good evening, dear anon-san!

“thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers !”

I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them! Every time people send me questions it always makes me happy and to be honest, a bit taken aback because I’m just a little old me. But I’m glad my answers have had such a positive reception and given people food for thought. And it’s always a pleasant surprise when people feel like they can come to my ask box with their interpretations and strike up a conversation.

Homophobia is a very complex topic, and I wondered where I should start to unravel this ask. But soon I realized before I can even begin that I have to take a moment to sort out my own feelings. Whenever people say the boys in 19 Days are abusive or homophobic for whatever reason I tend to get ticked off. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, often sparked by my own bias, but something that can very easily cloud my answer and make it unfair for you. Exchanging interpretations and perspectives requires a level of objectivity and the ability to rise above your own bias. I can’t dismiss something just because it uncomfortably pokes my nerve. Instead, I should take a step back, try and see things from another point of view, and find some common ground.

I’m not saying I had to struggle to agree with you on anything but your ask certainly reminded me of how challenging yet rewarding it is to actually listen to an interpretation that differs from my own and try to objectively look at the story from that point of view. It hurts your brain at first but is surprisingly freeing in the end.

Because you addressed so many things in your ask, I will tie my answer together under the theme of homophobia and give it some structure that way. This will be my great 19 Days - homophobia edition. \(^v^)/

Sexual orientation and environment

Let’s start with the biggest context you brought up in your ask: social and cultural environment. I’m not familiar enough with Chinese culture to have anything definite to say about its attitude towards LGBT people. Of course, I’ve heard of the discrimination and even blatant hate by their government but I don’t have any idea about how ordinary, modern-day Chinese people view others with different sexual orientations. Not to mention, it’s always risky to take fictional works as an accurate representation of the milieu in which they’re set.

But I do think that 19 Days discusses homophobia in societies, though on a more general level. As Jian Yi has come to realize his feelings towards Zhan Zheng Xi, we’ve also gotten glimpses of his struggles. They’re surrounded by other kids in school, and from the very early chapters it’s been implied two guys being that close together or comfortable with that level of skinship turns people’s heads (ch. 53, 54, 55, and 57):

Of course, those panels also poke fun at the stereotype of girls being interested in cute guys being cute together. The girls stare, take pictures, and even smile knowingly. This bothered ZZX because it put him in awkward situations and created misunderstandings that would be embarrassing to correct. And the more he would try to deny and correct them, the more he would probably end up looking suspicious. But the bottom line is, he was increasingly conscious of the weird looks and attention JY’s antics were attracting and didn’t want people to get the wrong picture of his friendship with JY. All of that could give us some hints on how two boys being close might be viewed by their peers, but it should also be kept in mind that those kinds of “gay panic” moments are a big part of the humor you find in 19 Days.

Having a crush on someone of the same gender gets more serious tones after JY kissed ZZX (ch. 142)

The secret was finally out in the open. JY had carried his feelings in his heart for a long time. He had wanted to confess them so many times and often hidden them behind jokes and antics. Perhaps every time he had jumped to hug ZZX he had caught a whiff of his scent and enjoyed the feeling of him in his arms. But to take the definite last step of confessing and lifting that curtain had always terrified him. And who wouldn’t have been scared? Not only would you have to come out but also risk losing your childhood best friend. It could be JY had even thought of never telling ZZX about his feelings because it could go horribly wrong.

For a while, things are somewhat put on pause after the first reveal which I found very realistic. JY wasn’t flat-out rejected but ZZX most definitely needed a moment to sort out his own feelings. He pestered JY to be straight with him (pun not intended...) and made it clear it would be safe for JY to rely on him and free himself of the burden. Despite that JY was still very unsure if his confession won’t result in ZZX abandoning him because “gay” is abnormal and disgusting (ch. 164):

Even when JY finally confessed he was expecting to be rejected in disgust (ch. 209):

But he had sort of reached the point of just finally getting it all out even if ZZX wouldn’t return his feelings. Even if it meant they wouldn’t be friends anymore. At least he had said it. He had heartbreakingly little faith that their kind of relationship wouldn’t be completely doomed. Thank god he had fallen for someone like ZZX. I don’t think I’ve never been as grateful for a character like him before.

A tangible example of how Zhanyi and their environment collided was Xiao Hui’s character (ch. 158):

When she called JY a disgusting gay, it was the first time he was facing that kind of homophobia. Though her actions were frustrating, I think Xiao Hui’s character was a good addition to Zhanyi. At first, she lashed out both because she was hurt and publicly humiliated but also no doubt because she had internalized the idea that heterosexuality was the norm and anything else was abnormal and wrong. Later on, she had had time to lick her wounds and calm down (ch. 258):

She still has a crush on ZZX but even though she probably realizes she doesn’t have a chance she still wants a clear rejection from ZZX. It still hurts and stings but doesn’t upset her as much. It could even be she’s a little happy for them. I think Xiao Hui’s character is a good example that people are capable of changing and reflecting when they’re given a chance. And no one should be forever held accountable and punished for the mistakes they made and have since bettered themselves.

In a broader sense, I think Zhanyi also discusses what kind of future a same-sex couple could have in society (ch. 268):

That drawing on the wall is my favorite Zhanyi moment. As cute as ZZX drawing him and JY together was, it also carries some bittersweet undertones. The original drawing represents the norm: a boy and a girl in love but if there are no skirts involved, it’s a whole other story. To be open about their relationship would most probably never be an option for JY and ZZX. Something as simple as holding hands in public would take courage and threaten to complicate other aspects of their lives (school, work, family). They don’t have the same privilege as straight people to openly and safely share their feelings and have that universal experience.

Your ask was mainly about Mo Guan Shan and He Tian, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about their environment since you also referred to it. And the easiest way for that seemed to be to talk about the progress of Zhanyi. As you suggested, it does seem the society in which all of the characters live is very much heteronormative which puts pressure on the characters to fit in. And if they fail that, they will face homophobia and most probably feel the need to hide their true selves. Case in point, Zhanyi.

Boys being boys

As much as I know that phrase is deemed Problematic™ these days, I think it fits the dynamics of the boys of 19 Days. They mess with each other, and all of that is typical humor for the comic. Personally, I’ve never taken any of their teasing and good-natured bullying seriously because it’s how 15-year-old boys are around each other.

However, I just finished talking about the environment under which influences and discourses the boys have grown up. I don’t feel like I can ignore what I had just been saying and brush it off as “oh well, they’re just boys” if they’ve always been surrounded by certain attitudes. Does that mean the boys have also internalized those attitudes towards gay people despite having feelings for someone of the same sex? Does that make them a representation of toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia?

In all honesty, I’m struggling to answer those questions. On one hand, I do agree that society’s norms of what is masculine put a lot of pressure on boys when growing up. You have to act, talk, dress, and be in a certain way to be accepted, and it doesn’t take a lot for kids to internalize those ideas. And as you said, acting or looking gay (not to mention, actually being one) is probably the worst a young boy could be. Being gay is often linked to everything a proper man shouldn’t be: sissy, effeminate, sensitive, weak, submissive, on the bottom. The list goes on and on.

On the other hand, do I think you can see that in the four main boys of 19 Days? I suppose it’s possible if that’s the direction you want to take. If you look at anything through those lenses, you can probably find toxic masculinity everywhere. Do I think HT, MGS, JY and ZZX are homophobic because they possibly showcase traits of toxic masculinity? I guess. I don’t know. I see where that interpretation comes from, but some part of my brain never manages to make the full connection between those two. I’m constantly having a feeling that my way of thinking differs from your interpretation but I can’t properly validate or argue my opinions.

Perhaps taking a look at the examples you mentioned might help. You talked about JY being homophobic when this was his response to HT calling him good looking (ch. 108):

I can’t exactly deny that panel couldn’t be taken as toxic masculinity. I might even agree with you on that. I wouldn’t probably go as far as saying JY was being homophobic but it does seem like his masculinity was threatened or questioned in that situation. Interestingly, I’ve seen that phrase pop up a lot in yaoi/shounen-ai comics. Characters who are in a gay relationship don’t often feel comfortable with guys complimenting them - or even the guy they’re in love with. I’ve always wondered that. Does that mean there’s a level of self-denial in those characters or is it just a cultural thing? Does it embarrass them?

In general, I think all of that has to do with their age, and another good example of that would be ZZX and JY’s reaction to HT messing with MGS (ch. 289 and 298):

I’ve seen people calling those moments homophobic as well and can’t really agree with them. I would say those reactions have more to do with teenage boys being awkward and embarrassed. HT putting the moves on MGS in front of them is embarrassing and something they don’t wish to see. I mean, I wouldn’t want to see my friends constantly acting like that around me either. Seeing public displays of affection embarrasses me and makes me awkward as hell. (Though, I don’t know if that’s just a Finnish thing...)

In short, I see a lot of how the boys act around each other just natural to how teenage boys are. They mess with each other and standing up for yourself in that sense (for example, getting revenge, being physical, or returning the verbal teasing) is important and typical. That’s how I see JY’s words in the example you mentioned: he felt like HT was messing with him and shot back. All of that could, of course, be seen as internalized toxic masculinity, but I don’t think it’s quite as blatant as people sometimes make it out to be. I’ve always taken it as boys just being boys and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

What comes to HT being pushy and overbearing, I don’t see that being connected to toxic masculinity and making him homophobic because of that. It feels a bit of a stretch and shakey. Instead, I actually think HT is quite comfortable with both of his own feelings for MGS and the idea of same-sex relationships in general (ch. 187):

The little heart-to-hearts JY and HT occasionally have also show us that despite often making fun of each other, they can take it more seriously when needed. JY would have never asked about having feelings for another male if he couldn’t trust HT wouldn’t make fun of him.

The case of Mo Guan Shan

You talked a lot about MGS, so I thought I’d take a closer look at his character separately. You made some interesting points I’ve also been thinking about and was glad they popped up in your ask.

Since we’ve talked about toxic masculinity so far, let’s continue on that. You mentioned that MGS is prone to homophobia because he’s had to act tough. Upholding a certain kind of image is essential in gangs. Being weak and submissive - aka gay, as I talked about above - isn’t an option in that line of work.

I agree with you on all of that. Why MGS is so uncomfortable with HT being physical with him is at least partly because he can’t come across as someone who can be taken advantage of (ch. 250):

If he can be physically overpowered and made vulnerable, it means he can be submitted. In the masculine world, physical strength seems to be the final and ultimate law that settles all the disputes at the latest. And if you lose in that you’re on the bottom or at least lower on the hierarchy. Now, multiply that mentality by a lot to fit it in the world of teenage gangs and the borderline criminal underworld. So, yes, I would most definitely say MGS doesn’t want himself to be put in that situation. Much less anyone finding out about it.

Then again, the story has kind of revisited that idea when HT “joined” MGS’s gang and his underlings started seeing HT around more. And they seem somewhere between intimidated by HT and impressed their boss has managed to make someone like HT call him “brother”. That fits the same mentality of strength, but I can’t honestly see Buzzcut or other members of the gang giving MGS a hard time even if they found out about HT’s affections. Chances are, they would be even more impressed, bless them.

Overall, I think MGS lashing out (or being homophobic) is mostly due to him not trusting HT and HT slowly but surely wearing him out and making him see his own prejudice against people like HT. Yelling out insults has been the easiest way to fight HT’s affections, although it’s not proven very successful. It’s also important to remember MGS is fairly inexperienced when it comes to love and romantic affection (ch. 222):

He’s always been rejected and discriminated by his peers and over the years, he’s started to mirror that behavior and push people away. Having crushes (let alone having a girlfriend) has never really been a concern for him. And it’s not like he’s had time for something like romance anyway because working has taken so much of his time. In this regard, MGS isn’t that mature or experienced and tends to get uncomfortable and lash out very quickly.

I’ve already talked about the note and what kind of role I think it will have (if it will be addressed at all). And I’m not really worried about MGS saying something homophobic to HT. I think we’re way past of him being like “I don’t speak to a homo” at this point already. He’s been aware of HT’s affections for a good while by now and even tentatively warmed up to some of it (for example, the aquarium date and the studs). (Even though, I think it’s still too early to talk about MGS being in love with HT.)

MGS has come a long way, and I might even say he’s gained some sexuality-related maturity on the way. Slowly but surely, he’s become comfortable with having HT around, and if after all this development he would say something like that, it would be a pretty big step backward. Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t throw insults and lash out but let’s not forget we’re talking about a purebred tsundere here. That’s always going to happen with him.

And while we’re keeping it real, it’s not like HT would pay any mind to those insults. After MGS asked for the studs, I think HT’s resolve has only strengthened.

I hope this answer makes some sense, to me it feels like a bit of a mess of this and that. A lof of “I can’t deny that but still...” You really threw some hard questions and challenged my thinking a lot. Thank you!