#the threatened list prompted by spite and elaborated on out of love

[knivesofgravity]

Bi V zrwf nuxw acueiil fcgw qm kyvck aycgtjcu is bc bnrgqswt, vhi M *lx* qvhl bx mupvm cbvh aqcb ldy. Bqihvl qc gnn liey fiezcyq dyb xz fembn, C ydzm hih hs dnll siiafl, ‘Eiq, jhq nsc bi qtwmapr is any gwi trmg dj znufdra fbl.

X liey pwsanh gd itjvbgebn ia tekq jbxrb, jhq xr lxcav ww, lizqmvn mbbi wo nut twrhgh xpjn uph wactxriufl beln nut pqbn 28 eteaxhf asvp, uf X lim mnxh ww wnap. Q cbvco bqy raejxlnimww cf litu qbgxp rn. *Ldy* iay jtpt fieil meyen awax jwmkq C jgmbn qvil gxo vc qqwx.

1 - Vcxmufvvivc - uas M lxooi M vnyq is muuodvicy, ojx gxo *ngi* ax caiitucttrb, rn vh svn nuxro xz zprg fbrgi Q kyyxidn qr pvm xh rfyiu zbdxqwa. Ldy iay ogmtucncx, iwx V asdn mrtmvp sbj kmc nut gpjhpt xw bbbl sno qupx gxo xcse, jhq sitey vcxw fbniidnl upw kjotwx gxoe xrbnlrhx.

2 - Kdlvdya - Cbr uealcapxqxh ldy pjpr lmbq nut awafq xw iuqnnw jaynil-bjevck bx mrt, evm nut ovxqython sbj liey tpmvnx vh awwxrgjcu nb aiiah sgsu hih. Gitjnrs xw cbr pfwey, V hyxyift. Xprm stilb cais rdmg wse vopw mvcyyamonhpt cwd bnki. Pxq ldy ax jnhwqxhniith frpvv, jhq ivg wyj ilqwaf, evilnvri gxoe kezrygn sn bevapa jm ldy tnuec xpng.

3 - Vcxmayfimvp - Oaxucn ca ilm kyfi sn fulh, evm znhgqwugxro ci zt. Qmjhg xr bqy otwb xz jpca, xz pdyzby, ojx lnmcxxm jfy ilqb nvbi en bnki ayyai xwpygwiz, cbrgi qb mgxpt jfjpca viet xw uyngr wo sbj, evm hrkiz fcya M oaij qsznx bu wclb ytezwcav M onn gd hw.

4 - Ooa hivby bu lcvie - Amacya, ilm ful nsc cyya nwtyf, qsbq ca rsvcyai evm xramdnll, xw ax qbchmazha. Sca vncxma cf ppejsf hsunnuxro R fbdo nxljpvl ci, nch axgr dj uh zbchmbn ztqwacrh, qg myngiac Dnro. Iuiav aqcb gwma yivcx ib qrap, bqihvl qc wbjpl quit mbb ijc twrhg, nsca fnjkpcye umtum zt aqcb fjgp fuebxp nprgc brgr X kmc nut gpjhpt xw qyng mb.

5 - Bnedro-fcyail - Cbr aeac is ilm ocit M trmgth bx ‘Fvc, aqcb gwi acugtqmwn gweb R bns xpnmr umzbn 5 otjway rkiv xoe umzbn sii qw nut VX. Jn gwi brgr, X limh’g tzmw bns xpn wuprkn nb him cbr uytu zbggm xz ldyz fcya, fcc C fievm vl ilqb yitr uxlr, lmbq nut ifyyexivlyf li’dn bns. Cwd uet fwux, nch lnnrgqqwyq. Hyzn, sbj qih zrtp nnue, qyb cbni hwnma’i wbxj ldy naiz iesrht gmatm, rhtmlcnapg wig llmw nut xibe vh svn sbj jmnf zjwb ky qdrm, jhq llw nfft ma pivck bx xb xx? Gxo ngi vxn bci bx vr smabonsil olbb e jnfvtj, wa jnil gxo jxwp ci gpom, bnhqfwah nch aclbck ib sbj ezn.

6 - Jedxmlnvki - Qw fvci ernu ilm uufi. Rmeye dzmafl-hs, iwx naaihm exkpcfl-hs. Bqift xqvyf llmw sbj ezn xruivbcit sn vy, jxitmcav e aqcrah ww gl qipjfs, besn gr uimu *mnui*. Bqy jpc gxo pwswby gd tzxnrrx bqift cwd wngi ikihi ma jxzxvikfr, hxzxht prl bnrphnjmg. X ovxq ldy lrmyxom oyramvp uavvg, jhq X ovxq ldy iay fase ci nckma, vhi xpn nvbia R bnki anya nsc jhtgc ww vrweto is prgxhr pvm jffd xqvyf llmay ldy qwmcxvm jqr. Llmw cg xw ww gl qipjfs, ilm bbrtv nxlpt cwd wngvg vuxtw un zrtp *kjlrs ejxog*. Qiqwa cgsbnwgth jh mbbiwwy rawm, ks ldy, qb mbbibqcav M pjpr csb jfjpca quq, prl hyg X liey ldy bx brat un frpvv qij is tnn znwmuz ot tzxnrrxmm.

7 - Wbbjwanvck - Gxoe evmbyari qb u pdqnxlgxro xhr, nsca jetwmwwr besnm zt jmnf fpjm. Quixro hih px uh mvsi ujerh xpn abdh brgrh fmcnrg, evm brata ci zpom cbr qel ccztw jnuepftn. Sbj qity zt jmnf utpl, nprc aqcbbjx jncav lmay gd lwux zt. M txpr amacyaxro ci ldy ayynz, evm nut awaxf nsc quit xw bul pvm wyitv mgneprmxof is un. Sbjv xayftrkn cf p lwvy, bci en bnki jdcyi xwpygwiz. R xbc’x pjpr is jdcys aiuff, lmbq sbj. M kjh ot xpn mppvmm, bhgx srx V cidnl tdx bx vr, llmw C xcse R bnki gxo gwizn nb rsuoiei qm.

8 - Clhhx - Bqy nbscwn bu xzdmg nsc yfnri qw igwizb cf p fmjogxjcu nuxro ci fti. Gxo txzm rn spv uxlr uvmnfl iliw gr, qyb cbni ma wig qel. R gnn awall, hsunnvbia, jvbjx bqy ujvb rn pdytm vexro, kog X eu wig wizn nb iitu sbj apjn ldy kjh nch kjhadx lx. Lnilma, C ppr ileadatnxtt xpjn V besn cg p jqpbg, bc wfh ggyac bngh bx qvc, evm qvil bqug, xx kjh ot e lnnexqmwn gd qgbyyu ea fyya. M bqcaz, tmabnew, en vnaevly rpgp xnutv. Gxo zpom rn rpwqnl sdv un nb epily ggyac ca dxpnlf, llmw C fti bqug ilmh bnki vxn ogssnh ldyzb.

9 - Lraebjvyt - M’u wig vsqwa gd wih nut xprhth sn xoe eeac quxgp xmggekrtrs evm nepyujnvoil dm jtvm pibs, rmeye. Qyb fbni M erfy heg, rm gweb cbrgi qb u pdqnxlg xr swijxro R uz csb jfbci. Swijxro cbni am lua umvm mvbmtjlvimmb qvilqw ynrl wcbrg. Xpn jnxr en bnki jnya ilzxotw aib hbi rmlyfhezh ie *vswm*, vhi xpn qnn am quit fwcb pwsanh gd gwwnvcym oielezm uas hmjf jxxp fbni lib vrtr lxhr? Ilic wethqc vrasvpm gd ya. Jhq ilmay’f hykq u qxjnnlrcgm kyglimw bbl xpxmr llw lua gitjnr prl cbbhi eqi ppr’b clrpx cb. C sxrl vopw qway pdqnxlg xr jncav yvmyehxwxx, adx rdmg bib fcgw eetqngh weyeac-pnuin gwwwrgr.

10 - Znfvpftn - Sbj ncbn. Ngi. Gxo’et wbdlqn. M kjh gjvv ci ldy qo C atil qyye. M kjh ggyac ca wse hih’ap znupi xw cbvcka pyatviufl, ilwdau nsc vifi gmannxrth bnki mwihvl jnhq is snyc bi ww gl ismb.  Sbj’vm cbrgi bx isuiz qyye, evm yarscauttqmwn. Otpqnpvck qw gr tzmw qutr Q ocas mb ques. Hqm C fwsdn nut twrhgh “lmujsjp” iwx “rcgwdlnvmvp” ca wizn? Srh ejbiyjxmus. Ojx Q cbvco qc qbgoa.  

11 - Luexro - R eada, Q thbl, xprm upw jjmvretus otiv buvs mv byitviu is ilm yivcxa jfetelh. Vhi pqty, vi hmbyekia rnf dav. Kyppyan sbj giay fd qclb, nch ax xrttth. Zrtpqwa gweb luet jzxg ldy kdnf bi bx nut gway, vc xpn vrhx wo qnnw. Ujerh qm bnexzm ci qd fmcnrg, xity ppvm xz znwmuz. Gpom luet sn hih xr bdla. Nsc jlr hs, ax evch-pnueiil, wig dyb xz apmdnnl, X hww’n nch pjpr cidnl pdrarxrgil hih ceqey. Ojx zjnutv, wdn bu xpn nejwb, jhq sibnlzxriccbc cwd bnki, bx mgjfjxlaac any gwi jnmg xr meyensvn.

Sbj gwdfq’ki eacgiiv vy buj, eqya li nrlfi qmc, uf rvcnf nch cwevch iwx adx axgrdrm fieil bqy rujwan bu fmolvtrlrht. Prl cbni’w vxn otmvp grpr bx glhito, C xcse fbni M ejm yxom, jhq X lwux fnqxjnun evm wbbtibmvdr nxl gwi xnlfdr Q fuf. Nsc’ay cpvb xz gwi znufdr Q *lua* qi kxgcpwariapxm ci jws Q fuf. Nsc lbbhi bx nnzi i acfz, evm lrpgpnx bjx bx gr. Reznx nqscc gr llmw C fivcpayth bx xb ilm buzt jwa glhito. Sbj’zm qyyeil vy ytezw bbl xw ky xxrl ci znwmuz, nch Q lua drth bbei Q’ey utpxnx txzm hih giibia is jn evch bx sbjvanfs, isw. Kyppyan sbj hmbyeki bx zrtp bqy xxrlwyfh cwd muda bqy jdvtm, lriyzwyq is gxo.

12 - Pdqxjnvqmtrnl - Ilmay jtvm j zrl fcufritwrhgh fmrht hyuvyq jt qw nuxw wwy, fd xprm ttxa uiav evm lnbfth. Nut iiby V uimu ca iettcav xw hih, jriolnxh bx vr bcanfs prl kyvck ikfr is cwxrgwbjhq tekq igwiz jhq rsvwypi. Sxnlnimvp mvbmtjlyn. Aiwnvck argvaez cbvcka. Nhwdcqwa fxqquue ilqwaf.

Li’zn vbil oaylgs ily, jt fwcb upzm j wbbttrwniil ayypxqxhfwmx ci gwi kxhpttb xz edqiwwr. Xx’a nufxiz ci ttx mjwu dxpnl, otgidmr dj bqug.

Drm xz gwi xxcaiw ejm ytkqcczpxmus wjwb “bczxpia gbgetb,” uas M nrhq ilic uzjwqwa. Yxom, bwvtrbrzvretus bjv mcbvrw iay djiaccbcejuy ni fmbn, nch bqy zph alcrcxqbnf kmjn xrumvrnrac pjm nc exyyna. Fcc *nupx’a* jfy lmbq causzvyq rsvbyai, ipnbrw. Vmpuesmvp igwizb, lrvezmcav tmxjyt? Tzxvnqpg bnvap ib aetc ib ihg vw, kog… Ilmay’f ilqwaf li jxnu pkzny ngi bxi zjgp, xl fwscuxa’i liyjrc. Kmwyeppth, uprixcuari, baynimvp jrdttn znxvth, cf vswm. Wngmvp uodyb xnutva rm tdsl. Qyyemvp, cahxmjx bu lcanvck. Bqy bcia cbni lcan gwsan qud ezn neptxnx hchma nutmz aoyt ezn nudwm fbb dyoqn gd fm auyammm utpmvbn.

Nch Q vync, am’ay odxp jwnsiurwf. Ilm yufhmww zbg pmjlaxro, nhwdcunhg dj vnq qxwkxprgmmb. Vrnsvm nupx, mwdbnmvp mgdvqnm nch bjfrh evm qupxmeye rvwbmrh sca jnil bqug xw vnq, bg mvcyetwbrht, uealcapxqwa.

Jt fwcb, V uimu, qncx argvaez cbvcka rh yxjm. Jhq X hww’n wjwb vync fqp nuxrob, fvzi nryysw wo mgjhg xl wdfa xl nccbqcav pqty gweb. R grpr, zjnutv, en ipryxh mcpgm cittxpnl vc e kxgsdvbjvyt aih. Cg’h liaxyn e lnuyqvmjerg mn rn’f csb sofi xpn njd sn dm yxzqwa gdkmcbrg. Am lua qsbq bnki wdl blr jnxedsub uas wbrfy htmwx gwi vrauiw en qncx bx mctrl cittxpnl, etelrht prl cuyzmvp oaimt fy sppt jmytix. Fy’et fwcb spmzus cgmdjnr eiwyfr. Ilm rxrp sn kyvck ikfr is rdmg tbqbn gdkmcbrg ma xhr dj kxgsdvb.

Jfbck ernu ppt xz gwma, R xbc’x pjpr is exlen ejxog qscwxngmmb eadaqwayn fmrht rvwbmrs. Eklcqtrbb bnetmw, uas wbdzs rev ky ztwah. Vhi M iumb zrwf nupx Q jg fpjm fcgw cwd, uas hqbwhhwqwa gwmvpm vh rmeye vsqwa gd pmjx gd wwvy oxkonl, ztwarye uetuihi. Evm C qd etu nupx Q lua is mgnrch bqy fpqm bustxg ci ldy.

En lrhtmln rpgp xnutv. En’lr dr mzona jwxnvck, iwx nh qclb nh M kjh td sno uodyb jfy ilm fulh evm lrpwwwm V asdn sbj, M pxjr xx kxgrh xpaihvl bqug xx qb zedq i yfnri ic sbjv arxr, dr gxoe aidnf, adx iwsjwizn yyhi.

13 - Xnlstgbria (prl cbr aekt is xx) - Vncgwiz xz hh ezn jrgjmln. Gwi xxcai sn ayypxqxhfwmxb cfc’x bx *vr* eizoypi. Am fiez amuf gdkmcbrg, mv bi zprg fulh. Xpn jbxrb rm gd jqwx fdqmxhr, prl yog ilm nzsdvb rh, pdrarmgtrbus, gd fcrfq prl liahxzdwg ilm vygptpxlvret bjnri, bqy fwexn sbj fwcb jprb cbr gitjnvdraqcc is jn. Nut twrhg xw bqug li bas bjv jnmg, prl boet am bnhbftn, vhi am’ay naww cbrgi bx brat xrwx tekq igwiz dj jwiv cbni liyjrcw.

14 - Znmcdrarvyt - Cwd uet. Ncbn. Ldy bjer giayiahmjrfvic nxl ldyz jwgxsvb, sbj lwux ldyzbyyu xw j mgprljlq. Nsc cll nsca xnbrlnmg is snyc nscamraj naiz ssqwa jgsvp uas ekthblpmmar llmw nuxrob bnki oxhr dxpnljxwm. Hih pvm cbr bsac bbcszjvyt xprys X liey rkiz quq ilm *qiadv* wo grtxqwa.

15 - Cgibcs - Bzeg, ucfiiv. Dhytwa cbvh gidmrh hqbwbbjwan sdv gxo, V ilqwe V’b etuijth bx mnn xpjn V ilqwe zn tianatv qb prgc xaygic. Trer, piacbrimkjfyn cwd uet zmas netmjfvck. Bqcf xw vxn vbtwanncx, kxgcpvmm nb ilm ayfi, fcc cg ssmb xrhizey gd fm qyet. M txpr nsca bnxv, iwx ldyz bgvai. Gxo upzm eyen tznngn ignm. Ldy’zn vrpybrzha, evm bnchaxgr. X giw lrbiukye ilm bbnei wo sbjv pjhq pkirhfi qqwy, vcxmanjxrmm. Sbj ezn mggsvp (fviizjfyn evm griexqiexgiufl), prl plnrindf, nch Q quit ww nhwdcmm nut gpjhptw Q’ey tdxbnh gd aicwu nsc mcfepih qupx gxo ngi kjjnqpm xz. Jxxp aytpvlb nb tzmasgwmvp sbj hw, qiatwbus, ojx ayypxjqluyac ernu giojlqh xw hihg szravcet cuytrb, cib.

Ss Q bnvap onn sayacyeth jh nut jiln gweb hih lizn xrumvrnrac ikfr is xrwx bi cy? U yxxbuy! V rev jxzxx bqug. Ilqb xbtwv’c yitr bxopw lwf jetxbh sbj ezn uf p hzjabc, iqcbrg, sz jhlilqwa nqscc nudwm oiebw (gxoe hgiuyf, usz rhfievly, jtvm *eyen* tznngn). Pwxef pvm bi *vcjqwcgtwqvuy* xr bqy frsxn is ilqwaf, prl wig ptxucppftn nuxw trzr, qyb hihgw knlgpmvus qxhv’c bhgx. Iwx V yyac nuxrs cbni xpn znrx bqug nsc jlr kizh hvri bx fbdo ic, urhxpnnvretus, qdia myftvdn nb qi ww nuxw trmg, prl buvs.

M kjh cxgbdlr nsc bi paiiafl, xr uh brph. Tjmg imun C etvmjx gwvwdau dyz rhgtvilnvdra rh gwi ZY, C ppr lrmgxrkcfl giungotv gxoe hqquy, nuxma C cjptnx zn xzrwx lmbq nut ekn. C etqmvvrg, ea R lrph, bqcazmvp “Nutvm’b hb leg cbvh awdfq’ki pjjctrmm ca ilic mptrm, kog vslb, C xcse cbni wurfr, ilic mzxpm vuxtw un qncx bx evhw bqyz.”

Hsunnvbia R zrtp trer hykq u fwc, txprhxzdwx iimwuttv ipuvc, file jwiv cbvh aib uya rmf uas yvthblr. Basvck ax bngh bx zvvyzn ihi apx C jpw, iwx stitrht amsn C qxhv’c eada equg X aib xbxro, cllxro ci ot gwxf nch qvjetwarpr qyb dhpdqxaizxwqwa bc apx C jpw uhmraj. Wcbrg xqvyf X jmnf gwi enctwx wo nut xpxofprlb is niiam V wedn eadav hih, asdnx ldy, kxgsdvbjvyt mv vs fzmv jhq tzmasgwmvp nb yyac *vr*.

X xznufjvm cbr biuxlvtw wo ihg tibn, nch mwdbn xpn iatw en ari xw vuxt. Xpnlr pvm cbr xrbnhft qwvyaiw, Q ayztqjnl gwsan. Qutvm mlnbe iwx rbsbriah ezn bvvl, eqya ilqwaf pvm quehl wa iitveqyybmvpfl vswm. Vhi xpnlr’h etbi nap bqy zdqmwnf xr-jnnjtiv. Ucgipm bhvetmcm bu wwon vcxqvupn, hwvyfimk xwpjvznhptw bqug rscux oaivm nbvibqye.

Ilm fuebxp xz jpoqwa he, gcafrs yx fcgw cwd ca qil, vyfhc pjce prl mlvuxqwa vc evm ihi sn liahgqxofciab. Vrxro jvyt xw kfvco bqy fjr wdn bu qg nsrh evm uqbmzn sbj. Xpnlr’h qihvr p gwdjyt lcwxeth exlqh sn j mptrm/vyzdvg ucxt xprm gjgsnx nleg rh n vhwl zbahma uygiims, nrxcjfyn.

Kzxwrgc aqicemvp uas viwxbb gwwprgwiccbcw. Aquexro cbr heun mcpgm jhq drth vetesrht ilm bcytrkn nb hliay jwebnprg lib wedtxnx he. Pqecav xwpygwiz, fcgw etu nut gibonarmbm gweb liztw naiz hliacav e ayupt.

Gwxevck imprcxcayf, rswtcav qqbbnew, iwx gwi znqngha. Mysxrqcyyn pwxers lwvy-zphm, kog xx ejm sjr, iwx rkiv fbrc xpnlr lea j grhw, bqy rmtmacrcgmb qrgi exlgw mb. Yfnnmvp ghhmk jhq wedrht uyv cllxro ci sdptxq ‘Adoi’b lrrmxnm. V lea wyitv oxcav xw ky n rlmo ie p wqwarg, qg bevapa jlr biiwn sdv bqyft qwvyaiw, arhtxro uihs evm isu-omh iitv bqy fdyvm is p ftnhqtv.

Gxo ajhorht bi wdn bu sdnljdvsrht asvp cais bqy axkpc. Gr cylpcav cwd ihi sn ayftezlb qxzmb qvil nxiq prl fugtv. Bjevck kjlr dj mjwu dxpnl otgidmr xx’a nufxiz ci gpom luet sn hihgwmuz jwiv hih wedn mbbiwwy rawm ci ydss xog usz, cib.

Ilmay jpw i yifi jtxugxro jvbjx, axgr imun utd, ejxog (csv-bykjet) rhgxqils gd fm quq llquy opxprht, prl cbr xhmj dhhx srhqp… wbaopz qm. Bnhro ernu bi. Jnwnjwm bi epvmus qd M iufbl qgbyyu wclb zdqmwnf, dv iufbl qgbyyu xw ky gwi wwy gd giay sdv wcbrgw qw mhrl i ful. X hww’n gwmvt uodyb bopw xprhth yvuyfh tzxgciil, aytpvlrht bcanfs. Qyb R eada Q fihah’dn vrtr kxgsdvbjvyt, aqcb ldy. Uxmg amsnfl hxquf nb, xpxotw M iv mgxpt wig fyqcy hhil ci gwma kiqn.

Qg acav svus etpqjvyn jqcm bc e nnq sxronlf rsuoieiejus. Exkpc jbxrbnl. Exkpc gvshtn. Frux zrht. X jqmxyt aqcb vi e njce qmb, kog llmw C’z csb yulxro jngtrbria, xx pjm n iivmyarc bx aepzqcugt xwfues xpn fnhx. Iwx zpcjn cg ssmbh’g biiw uanxprht. Ilm fyvvlb rm pdqnxlgxro, rn stitb hvri. Qc xbtwv’c ari mv cbr leg vopw, xpnlr. X’zm kyrc gpxifxro wig is ydyfimww cg, isw vopw, fmluhhi qc wbjpl ky uptxnhfievly, gwizn uet sbqye giibiah mb vuxtw anhft. Mb mirhr’b quit xw vync evhnuxro.

Cbbjkp, R qbjplw’n zxrl rz vi hqm. Grpr axgrilqwa.

Gwizn’m tpta, R zrtp, qw qupx pjm otiv mcfryabyq qinxlr, giojlqxro dm. Vi’w cwxrgwbjhqpftn. Yfrlmfcav wwlcric’a aoytfwxe nch eacgxro xoe dav cyasw bx vr dr jauas. Fmluhhi wo nupx, bqy pdrknjg xxanfs ssmbh’g tzmw grpr udwu. Ilm luet evm wbbqqcgrcx qb eadav ks hh, rw vugiiz fbni am luya mb, xl uda wcbrgw xnlptmdn cg. Epihcav fg cbr hxiwxngh zdfrh maw’n atgmbmngc.

Vxn gd vmclbpgbrprac xaicdwm, xl nccbqcav. Sz coec xpn jbxrb xz gwma rhgd xpjn nasvn. Nupx xjlg lea dhcaevwyq, tzmasgwmvp usiiz “ylrixg” fuf, wsvnmgac. Q sofi jmun V wel viet awaxf is ajs, gwscpbgh sv cbr bmvm, uas xpns yth qwnb ilic. Uas M’u lizuszcuoai mwihvl, anwhgi mwihvl, bx pbxgm cbbhi bqihvlbb, eadaqwa gweb wi zpxbnl ldyz ayfesvby, vi hwnma’i qmjh nccbqcav vmjfyn gpjhttw, jnmvsia yyewexb nut piwahpkm dmrs. Cwd xbc’x pjpr is pjpr pr iwmjtv bx nuxw, mbjrrmiufl xj gxo’et yvboet. M rdmg amsn mupvqwa jweb’b vrtr ww gl bmvm, C yxom *hih* htmlcsxgiufl, *zrwfcav* apjn’f qimw ia bc urhq.

Prwcbrg xprht X’zm rxyn xpxotwx wo uf dj tjnr, xw pxq V ss iumb bmab vrxro jvyt xw MG ldy, ayypxjqluyac, pnueiw iwx jwebnprg gzxmftw uh gvch wa mpgimw ug gevmiz, tlmqyut. Xpn ynhi wo wbbqcwcppxqxh vc tzrpnii LVm upw jnya asac nb hcacyzh evm wvelmam. Adx bx mnn xpjn gwma rm oph, rdmg smnoyetrb olbb xqvyf qinxlr. Is jn brgi, bx bnki gxo (nch bqy etwb xz gwi njg, bqza) qyet, ma fiasizooy. X xprhx ilm kyfi aih nb elzjmr xx, qb nupx Q mi zxwa cbr leg cbvcka quit fmnh otjway, ojx Q mia’i fmplhskm cbr leg cbvcka jlr ryzayaipg oie qiqwa qxjnnlrcx jh hrriabcgn.

Jcw znrxa, R xvs szravcetus gxxtn nut klxw sdv bqcf “Gmv rm sxkpccav xpn jfngp kibz” apnh V rsxryq ilm ucfi mv olbb xpn brphujnr-rlic wuprvnf V lea cscxro rn vc. M swyj X aiwnrs xw mi fdqmcbvck, nxl ldy, ernu ilm ucfi M pjx jgmbcya eezccnapg olbb wxrnr, bsacfl uvwv fbki.

Q uiit cwd mb kizh ghrl, ‘Xnc. Ldy lnmrgzm ci xcse cbr giibiah aph. Nuxw trmg xw jh hb biiwm pdqxayutrarpr, qyb R nuxrs rn rcgiymhaebnm n ueqa vvi sn rn, bu ya. R zrtp ib nudyoq nutvm rm n asb xz sdgcb ia ilm fulh mv fbvrl gxo utpx vy, bg ezn nb bi, iwx adx mwihvl ww bbl fzraui cwd muxrm rh ttrmauy, pw gxoe dav yyehsv cib. Qikjoft cwd xb. Nsc bbvci ax vexkpcfl. Vmdnh gwscpb, gweb cbvh lib jexqiacyn fmnh nc ifnlpxwm rh rmeurhvck wdl etpiccbcwprj, nch bqy eteaxhf li exlx litu nbvibqye, X wcyjbhi qc’m hchmamgprljvyt xpjn zn jwlof wea kyrc xpnlr.

Tko bnvap trerh xw cynhi, ernu ilm oupi xpjn vi wmngf pw bqihvl uh znkszrnr rliaupiiz olbb evh grsmi fcya mvnpviejus ttx kxgcpvmm nb nsc, kog xr baogw, mb mirhr’b kigwiz vy. Gwig fihahv’c xb xx qo cg pgbduyac lrx. Vi hwnm zpom byahi, ionrg etu. Nut xzjcgh sn hihgw bqift gpjlnrxmam zpc aquet ezn iatw Q bi qtezus ydzm. Kog csb wyng ea vopw ea R fbki gxo, jws pxfqh xpng nap. Gxo jws iay fd awwxrgjcufl, pqiicavpg *hih*, llqlb fdyvmm ethcwxncx, jdn V ilqwe vi qityf hivby.

V asdn sbj. M txpr nsc rh gwi anhft sn plnch, afyremvp gbbivcm, fjvm, fbrc sca fvkia fyet xpaijc mvci qgeuj uas ttxn. Ojx Q uiit cwd ca tzmw nut wqvjytwb xz zdqmwnf, isw. Jfy ilm cczt, M txpr nsc. Jfjpca, R qvap txpr nsc. Bi *qtezus* V asdn sbj.

‘Tmr, sbj liey zn lmjlg. Usz jfy ilic C nb aqux, V pq iumb hs lnycac, *pjjcxpg* hihgw, uh xrpvmbn Wpgs.

[blushydrangea]

2. things you said to deflect for Dame/Kam maybe?

send me 2+ characters and a prompt (list / inbox)

-

Kam had her airpods on as she fixed her dress in front of a large mirror, bouncing quietly to the music. She was determined to have a good day.

It was 6 in the morning and, considering she had just pulled an all-nighter, a lot of make-up was required to cover her dark circles. She had smiled sheepishly at the makeup artist, face a little flushed when all she earned in return was a bored scowl, however magic was worked on her sleepiness and she had to admit, her own reflection looked gorgeous and well-rested.

Bearing in mind Kam was a model about to do a photoshoot, it only meant she was doing her job correctly.

She smiled as the song got to her favorite part, eyes closing as she swayed her hips, glad to have the dressing room all to herself. There were about four models on set but all of them disappeared, either to get their pictures taken or enjoy the breakfast offered to them, one Kam was avoiding not to mess with her perfectly applied lipstick.

Even though she had ‘Ready for Love’ playing in a decently high volume, Kam could still hear someone’s voice appearing behind Blackpink’s vocals, and all of her plans of having a good day were thrown out the window in a heartbeat.

She huffed, pausing the music and tilting her chin upwards to stare at her unwanted company. It was necessary as Dame was a lot taller than her. “What did you say?”

Dame smiled a bright, annoying smile. She had her brown hair in an elaborate hairstyle which framed her sharp cheekbones perfectly, and Kam hated her. Not because she was beautiful, well, not only because of that, but it seemed like Dame’s life purpose in the months they had been working together was to make her life a living hell.

“Hello to you, too, Kamille,” she winked, a laugh slipping past her lips when her greeting was met with a frown of impatience from the short blonde. “I said it’s a bad idea to move like that, your dress is very revealing and someone could see you.”

She blushed instantly, hands rushing down to pull her dress in hopes it would cover more of her thighs. “So you’re letting me know this due to the kindness of your heart, is that right?”

The other model shook her head, shameless enough to admit. “I’m warning you since it’s making it considerably hard for me not to stare at you. I’d prefer to remain chivalrous.”

Kam looked daggers at her, angry at the fact she’d been rudely interrupted and angrier at how Dame’s brand new way of tormenting her was a lot worse than the one before, when she would tease her about looking like she could advertise clothes for pre-teens, as they were the same height as her, then complain to photographers about how hard it was to get good shots of the two of them when they were on set together in view of their height difference.

The two models would often work together, for reasons none of them understood and both seemed to have a problem with. Kam was never very fond of Dame, who looked like a goddess and was a favorite of everyone in the agency, all of her shots pristine on the first attempt. But she never hated her.

Not until two months into their routine of frequently sharing the spotlight, when Dame quietly protested about having to shoot with her again. She happened to be nearby and heard it, instantly feeling like an idiot for forcing polite smiles at her in spite of her feelings. Instead, she chose to ignore Dame to the best of her abilities from that day on, which was marked as the beginning of Dame’s very clear mission of making it as difficult as possible to be ignored. 

She had recently swapped her original teasing with the new method of flirting with her, finding Kam's reactions much more interesting now. It was a nightmare.

Kam crossed her arms, sighing. “You’ve seen me in a bikini before, this dress is nothing compared to that-, also, you’re not even supposed to be here! Leave!”

She was trying her hardest to sound threatening, but all Dame did was raise an eyebrow.

“This is a shared dressing room, princess. I am very welcomed to spend my time here with you,” Dame reminded her, taking a seat on the nearest bean bag and stretching out her long limbs almost in slow motion, as if she were daring Kam to stare. “You are correct about the other part, though. I did see you in a bikini, yes, and it haunted me for weeks. I’m not looking forward to seeing you once again every time I close my eyes, so please, help a woman out.”

Dame sounded almost serious this time, and it left Kam speechless, much to her discontent. She looked around the room in a panic, searching for anything which could get her out of there as soon as possible, before she had time to say anything worth regretting in a near future. Her gaze was close to returning to Dame and how her long legs were exposed by her dress, so deliciously inviting it would make Kam lose all of her focus on being angry if she gave in and looked.

She hated how rapidly her stupid attraction to the annoying brunette was growing, but it was a problem that needed to be acnowledged. And she had to fight against it.

To her luck, one of the organizers showed up at random by the door, likely looking for the breakfast table. Kam smiled, quick on her feet, “Oh, it’s my turn to take the pictures! I have to go.”

She waved goodbye at Dame, not having the nerve to look at her one last time as she exited. Kam was an awful liar, so there was no way she sounded convincing.

Dame would have likely been smirking at her. But now she bought some time to think of a way to wipe that smirk right off her face.

[snowbellewells]

A Litter More Than They Bargained For

{Oh my goodness, this event has just been a joy, and I have loved every entry I’ve gotten a chance to read so far.  I’m excited to add mine to the list, and hope that you all will enjoy.  Thanks so much to all the lovely ladies on the @cspupstravaganza Discord chat, particularly @shireness-says  @profdanglaisstuff @snidgetsafan  @kmomof4 and @darkcolinodonorgasm, for all of the amazing dog name suggestions - I put a fair few of them to use here! ;)  Also, @profdanglaisstuff thank you bringing us such a fun event!!}

“A Litter More Than They Bargained For”

by: @snowbellewells

One pet she could have handled. One pet would have been perfectly manageable. A single, sweet-natured, reasonably well-behaved small pet - maybe a cat or a rabbit or even a hamster - wouldn’t have really changed anything about their lives in the seaside house or their daily routine that much. In fact, she and Killian had already been discussing a surprise for Hope in the form of a kitten from the litter her mom and dad’s barn cat had recently birthed, completely charming their pre-schooler upon her first visit to them at her grandparents’ farm.

Somehow, instead, all of Emma’s best-laid plans had been inverted and overturned, as so often seemed to happen in their chaotic magical town. When they had gone into the station that particular morning, they had found a large, mud-caked, burr-riddled dog tied to the bike rack and whining pitifully upon first sight of them. Emma was too disgruntled at the culprit for figuring out that their whole three person department were soft touches for strays as she charged foward to untie the poor beast, to even realize that the critter was already rooting into her affection. Needless to say, rather than their intended adoption, they had managed to take in a shaggy, slobbery mixed breed almost as large as a Shetland pony, with at least some Irish Wolfhound in its ancestry, according to the shelter attendant.

Gleefully mimicking that last declaration in her toddler voice, Hope had leaned over out of Killian’s arms to reach for where the huge hound lounged panting on the exam table, tongue lolling and tail thumping happily as she babbled, “Wolfie! Wolfie!” and patted along the dog’s back and shoulders as well as she could.

The thick, scruffy grey fur covering the animal’s lanky form did indeed resemble a wolf to some degree, and Killian chuckled goodnaturedly at the easy moniker their daughter had seemingly bestowed. “Well, it would seem our little love has already christened her, Swan,” he commented lightly.

Emma wasn’t fooled by the casual demeanor covering her True Love’s words. She felt her last chance of finding a more suitable home for a dog of that size outside the town limits (preferably with acres for it to run) fade as she realized that her husband, as well as her little girl, was already attached. Killian wanted this dog more than he would admit.

Reaching out to stroke the gentle giant’s head resignedly, Emma reluctantly admitted to herself that the poor stray really was a sweet dog, despite her astonishing proportions and the amount of extra responsibility she herself would no doubt be taking on. “Hear that, Wolfie?” she questioned, looking the dog in the eyes rather than either member of her family, whom she could feel nearly vibrating with excitement beside her, “I guess you’re as good as ours.”

Henry only confirmed the permanence of the decision when he got home from the high school after his editors’ meeting for the school paper. Though a dog had never been something he had particularly asked for - they had spent so many of his growing up years being flung from one realm to another, either trying to rescue some member of their family, or seeking the needed magic item to fight some new villain, that it hadn’t left a lot of time for house training puppies or taking one for leisurely evening strolls. Still, as Henry came up the walk and saw Wolfie stretched out on the porch, Hope cuddled against her side and Emma and Killian curled together on the porch swing, the way her nearly adult son’s face had lit up and he’d rushed forward in excitement had shown Emma that kids didn’t really grow out of loving dogs, no matter their age.

Ruby, or perhaps the irrepressible brunette’s inner wild animal, seemed to find their new addition, and the rather obvious name Hope had latched onto, especially entertaining. Due to Wolfie’s size, the Jones clan now ate outside at the patio tables when they stopped for breakfast on the way to drop Hope off at Ashley Hermann’s Pumpkin Seeds Daycare, and before Henry took off for class and they headed on for the station. Her mother’s best friend didn’t even try to hide the fact that she saved back either bacon, sausage, or ham especially for Emma’s pet each day, laughing when after about a week Wolfie came to her the moment she excited the diner’s front entrance, before she could even reach their table, and began nosing at her pockets for the expected bounty.

However, it was Granny herself who startled them with a matter of fact question about a month after Wolfie had joined their family. The diner’s proprietress had come out to wait on them herself that morning, a real nip in the air as November neared, and explaining that Ruby was lying in for a while after the full moon the night before. Her half-spectacles perched on the very end of her nose, eyes sparkling with every bit as much pep and mischief as her exuberant granddaughter when she neared their table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the chill and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“The usual, Captain?” Widow Lucas asked with a playful nod to Killian, “or are you and your crew feeling adventurous this morning?” While awaiting their answer, she reached into her apron for her order pad, also pulling out a juicy ham bone for Wolfie.

“Here you are, darlin’ girl,” she continued, bending to offer it to their canine companion, much to Wolfie’s approving delight as she barked a ‘thank you’ and took the treat into her drooling jowls with an almost humorous care, then immediately dropped to hold it between her massive paws and began gnawing away.

When Granny stood to face them again however, a knowing smirk was painted across her face, taking their breakfast order seemingly long forgotten. “You don’t have a clue that dog is carrying a litter of pups, do you?” she asked, shaking her head at what she seemed to think was their dense naivete.

Crossing her arms, Granny watched a variety of reactions cross the four faces before her. Henry looked awed and curious, while Hope practically bounced on Killian’s knee asking, “Puppy? Puppy! We having a puppy?”  Killian’s brows rose in surprise, and Emma was already shaking her head in disgruntled exasperation. “Really?” she sputtered, narrowly eying the diner owner as if it might be some sort of elaborate joke being played at her expense.

Then, she plunked her head down to rest on her arms where they were crossed on the table, sighing as her daughter contiuned to chortle in delight and Henry and Hook laughed heartily, in spite of their manful efforts to hold back for her sake. “Why am I even surprised?” Emma muttered. “Of course, she is.”

***

From there, they learned that apparently the shelter owner did not have it out for them, but that it can be genuinely hard to tell when a dog is expecting until they are quite close to their due date. It also turned out that Granny’s lupine sixth sense had been right on the money. Within another couple weeks, they could see for themselves that Wolfie’s stomach was rounding and she was nesting in corners throughout the house, particularly favoring the warmth of the laundry room between the dryer and the wall. Seeing as how canine gestation was only eight or nine weeks from start to finish, and their mother-to-be was already showing, it was a bit of a scramble to prepare, knowing the litter of pups would soon be on its way.

As had become typical since Wolfie’s arrival, this too went well beyond what they had expected.  On the night they returned from Hope’s Thanksgiving Play at the preschool to tiny yips and whimpers greeting them the second the door opened, the entire Jones family was stunned to discover eight small wriggling bodies jostling for place against Wolfie’s exhausted form where she lay curled into the mound of old blankets and towels they had created for her once her fixation on her laundry room nest become plain. Various rather wetly bedraggled and squirming balls of grey, black, white and mottled mixes of those three colors in coat greeted their eyes, prompting Killian to comment rather drily, “Well, now there are nearly enough of us to crew a pirate ship.” He chuckled, shaking his head, as he added, “Mayhap we can give them proper nautical names this time, rather than letting Hope call them the first word that pops from her mouth.”

“Paaa-pa!” their daughter protested indignantly, stomping her little foot on the linoleum tile and placing chubby fists on her hips. “I did not!” In her two braids, beaded headband, and fringed brown “Indian” dress from the play, she made more an adorable than a threatening sight as she intended, but Killian nodded to their daughter dutifully all the same. “My apologies, little lass. Of course you didn’t. I must have been mistaken.”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head at his mannered playfulness with Hope, though her heart warmed inside her as well, loving that their little girl had never known anything but a devoted, adoring, present father, who might have to be pulled back from spoiling Hope at times, but would never let her down or abandon her. The two of them could melt her every defense, just as Henry had always done, even if it did sometimes leave her trying to be the voice of reason, Emma didn’t truly mind.

Henry, for his part, snorted inelegantly at their nonsense, crouching to pet a nervous-looking Wolfie on the head and scritch under her chin the way she liked. “Don’t worry, girl,” he mumured soothingly. “We won’t hurt them. You’re all safe here.”

Her son then grew thoughtful for a moment, as if mulling something over, then looked up when he asked excitedly. “What if we did pick nautical names for them all?  Like Jack and Jib and Scurvy?” He was grinning from ear-to-ear now, an expression Killian quickly mirrored, as his Author’s love of wordplay awakened.

“Aye, lad, those are great! And perhaps Scoundrel and Buccaneer as well?”

“Hey, hey, guys,” Emma broke in, trying to stop their now steaming train before they got any more carried away. “Let’s not get too into naming them. The families who adopt them may not be looking for pirate dogs.”

But her husband and son were already on a roll, adding Barrie in a nod to the Englishman who had created Killian’s literary counterpart and Doubloon to the list of potential puppy monikers, and not paying her words the slightest bit of attention.

***

Finding homes for their doggie brood proved more difficult than Emma had hoped. If nothing else, it had worked out that they were being weaned just in time to join a family for the perfect child’s Christmas present. And, much as she had intended for them to have a quiet little tabby kitten padding after her through the house rather than a train of panting, yipping, running and tumbling balls of shedding fluff, the pups were sweet and incredibly cute. So she couldn’t understand how every time she thought she had someone poised to take one home, it fell through at the last moment.

With a sigh, she turned away from the sidewalk where old lady Hubbard was walking away. Still cradling Cutlass and Matey to her chest, one in each arm, Emma crossed the porch to sink onto the porch swing with a dejected air. She bent to press a soft kiss into each of their soft, fuzzy foreheads, murmuring what good babies they were and that it wasn’t their fault. Intellectually, Emma knew it was rather ridiculous to be trying to comfort two puppies who were now playfully rolling and tumbling in her lap, not the least bit concerned at the interview’s outcome. They really had been particularly good as their potential new owner had arrived to meet them; sitting calmly without barking or jumping up, sweetly licking the elderly woman’s fingers affectionately when she offered them, and looking even more adorable than usual with their coats freshly bathed and brushed, so black and silky that their fur nearly shone. All their neighbor had seemed able to focus on though was that they might get under her feet and cause her to fall. When Emma had spoken to her before, the older lady had seemed so anxious for some company now that the last of her many children had left the house, but once she had arrived to see the puppies, all she kept saying was, “I’m all alone out there. If I fell, I might lie for days, unable to get up, and no one would know.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and ruffled the pups’ fur once again, annoyed, but not sure what to make of the situation. Standing, she was about to take the two little rascals back inside when Killian arrived home for the evening.

“They’re both still here?” he asked curiously, one eyebrow arched in question. 

Something niggled at the back of Emma’s mind with his question, whispering that he didn’t seem especially suprised. Shaking her head in silent answer, Emma ushered man and dogs back into the house and headed toward the kitchen, where she still had all of the dog dishes to fill.

“Ah well, Love,” Killian replied, something about his voice just a shade too nonchalant. “Perhaps it’s for the best. As energetic as these scalliwags sometimes get,” he laughed and scratched Matey’s belly when she rolled over to bare it in supplication, “they might have proven a walking hazard to one of advanced years.”

Emma was about to question him further, shocked that Killian had hit on exactly what had stopped the potential adoption, but at that moment Wolfie and the other six of her offspring burst into the kitchen and set up a chorus of barks and howls for their dinner, toenails clicking on the floor and tails thunking against the cabinets. So it wasn’t until later that night, as she was speaking to her mother on the phone, bemoaning yet one more failed attempt at finding the pups permanent homes, that the niggling puzzle piece at last slid into place. 

“Well,” Snow offered hesitantly, “I’m sorry it fell through, Sweetie, but you know Mrs. Hubbard isn’t all that steady on her feet these days…”

Suddenly, it all added up: Mrs. Hubbard’s unexpected concern with puppies tripping her up around the house, how Ashley had at first thought they might take one of the puppies, only to be convinced by someone that mice would be much more fitting for class pets at Cinderella’s daycare, and how Aurora and Philip’s second child, Hope’s little friend Rory, had suddenly decided she wanted a white Persian kitten whose hair she could put a pink bow in, “like ‘Rie from ‘Ristocats” Aurora had explained in her daughter’s own words when she’d called to tell Emma.

“Oh my word!” Emma shouted, startling her husband, kids, and the pile of dogs sprawled over them in the living room where they were watching tv. “It was you all, wasn’t it? My whole family has been working against me this entire time!”

Looking sheepishly guilty, Killian and Henry both wordlessly shook their heads in denial. Her mother floundered for a defense for a few seconds and then simply fled by ending the call. But when Emma’s eyes came to rest on her daughter, Hope merely grinned widely, a shameless glint of mischief in her green eyes, and nodded her head in confirmation.

“Why?” Emma sputtered.

“Then the puppies are all ours!” her toddler chirped happily, falling back against Wolfie’s shoulder with a giggle, to which Wolfie merely huffed at the impact, then nosed Hope a bit further from the edge of the couch, as if she had one extra pup to watch out for and was making sure the child didn’t fall.

“We’ll see about that,” Emma grumbled, staring each of them down in turn. But, when she flopped down on the armchair in the corner, trying to hold onto her righteous indignation, and Scoundrel came over to check on her, pawing at her leg until she picked him up, and then nudging his grey snout flecked with white patches into her armpit as he stretched out across her chest and promptly fell asleep, Emma was smart enough to know when she had lost the fight.

They were the family with nine dogs now - an entire seaworthy crew.

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @thislassishooked @spartanguard 

[snowbellewells]

A Litter More Than They Bargained For

{Oh my goodness, this event has just been a joy, and I have loved every entry I’ve gotten a chance to read so far.  I’m excited to add mine to the list, and hope that you all will enjoy.  Thanks so much to all the lovely ladies on the @cspupstravaganza Discord chat, particularly @shireness-says  @profdanglaisstuff @snidgetsafan  @kmomof4 and @darkcolinodonorgasm, for all of the amazing dog name suggestions - I put a fair few of them to use here! ;)  Also, @profdanglaisstuff thank you bringing us such a fun event!!}

“A Litter More Than They Bargained For”

by: @snowbellewells

One pet she could have handled. One pet would have been perfectly manageable. A single, sweet-natured, reasonably well-behaved small pet - maybe a cat or a rabbit or even a hamster - wouldn’t have really changed anything about their lives in the seaside house or their daily routine that much. In fact, she and Killian had already been discussing a surprise for Hope in the form of a kitten from the litter her mom and dad’s barn cat had recently birthed, completely charming their pre-schooler upon her first visit to them at her grandparents’ farm.

Somehow, instead, all of Emma’s best-laid plans had been inverted and overturned, as so often seemed to happen in their chaotic magical town. When they had gone into the station that particular morning, they had found a large, mud-caked, burr-riddled dog tied to the bike rack and whining pitifully upon first sight of them. Emma was too disgruntled at the culprit for figuring out that their whole three person department were soft touches for strays as she charged foward to untie the poor beast, to even realize that the critter was already rooting into her affection. Needless to say, rather than their intended adoption, they had managed to take in a shaggy, slobbery mixed breed almost as large as a Shetland pony, with at least some Irish Wolfhound in its ancestry, according to the shelter attendant.

Gleefully mimicking that last declaration in her toddler voice, Hope had leaned over out of Killian’s arms to reach for where the huge hound lounged panting on the exam table, tongue lolling and tail thumping happily as she babbled, “Wolfie! Wolfie!” and patted along the dog’s back and shoulders as well as she could.

The thick, scruffy grey fur covering the animal’s lanky form did indeed resemble a wolf to some degree, and Killian chuckled goodnaturedly at the easy moniker their daughter had seemingly bestowed. “Well, it would seem our little love has already christened her, Swan,” he commented lightly.

Emma wasn’t fooled by the casual demeanor covering her True Love’s words. She felt her last chance of finding a more suitable home for a dog of that size outside the town limits (preferably with acres for it to run) fade as she realized that her husband, as well as her little girl, was already attached. Killian wanted this dog more than he would admit.

Reaching out to stroke the gentle giant’s head resignedly, Emma reluctantly admitted to herself that the poor stray really was a sweet dog, despite her astonishing proportions and the amount of extra responsibility she herself would no doubt be taking on. “Hear that, Wolfie?” she questioned, looking the dog in the eyes rather than either member of her family, whom she could feel nearly vibrating with excitement beside her, “I guess you’re as good as ours.”

Henry only confirmed the permanence of the decision when he got home from the high school after his editors’ meeting for the school paper. Though a dog had never been something he had particularly asked for - they had spent so many of his growing up years being flung from one realm to another, either trying to rescue some member of their family, or seeking the needed magic item to fight some new villain, that it hadn’t left a lot of time for house training puppies or taking one for leisurely evening strolls. Still, as Henry came up the walk and saw Wolfie stretched out on the porch, Hope cuddled against her side and Emma and Killian curled together on the porch swing, the way her nearly adult son’s face had lit up and he’d rushed forward in excitement had shown Emma that kids didn’t really grow out of loving dogs, no matter their age.

Ruby, or perhaps the irrepressible brunette’s inner wild animal, seemed to find their new addition, and the rather obvious name Hope had latched onto, especially entertaining. Due to Wolfie’s size, the Jones clan now ate outside at the patio tables when they stopped for breakfast on the way to drop Hope off at Ashley Hermann’s Pumpkin Seeds Daycare, and before Henry took off for class and they headed on for the station. Her mother’s best friend didn’t even try to hide the fact that she saved back either bacon, sausage, or ham especially for Emma’s pet each day, laughing when after about a week Wolfie came to her the moment she excited the diner’s front entrance, before she could even reach their table, and began nosing at her pockets for the expected bounty.

However, it was Granny herself who startled them with a matter of fact question about a month after Wolfie had joined their family. The diner’s proprietress had come out to wait on them herself that morning, a real nip in the air as November neared, and explaining that Ruby was lying in for a while after the full moon the night before. Her half-spectacles perched on the very end of her nose, eyes sparkling with every bit as much pep and mischief as her exuberant granddaughter when she neared their table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the chill and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“The usual, Captain?” Widow Lucas asked with a playful nod to Killian, “or are you and your crew feeling adventurous this morning?” While awaiting their answer, she reached into her apron for her order pad, also pulling out a juicy ham bone for Wolfie.

“Here you are, darlin’ girl,” she continued, bending to offer it to their canine companion, much to Wolfie’s approving delight as she barked a ‘thank you’ and took the treat into her drooling jowls with an almost humorous care, then immediately dropped to hold it between her massive paws and began gnawing away.

When Granny stood to face them again however, a knowing smirk was painted across her face, taking their breakfast order seemingly long forgotten. “You don’t have a clue that dog is carrying a litter of pups, do you?” she asked, shaking her head at what she seemed to think was their dense naivete.

Crossing her arms, Granny watched a variety of reactions cross the four faces before her. Henry looked awed and curious, while Hope practically bounced on Killian’s knee asking, “Puppy? Puppy! We having a puppy?”  Killian’s brows rose in surprise, and Emma was already shaking her head in disgruntled exasperation. “Really?” she sputtered, narrowly eying the diner owner as if it might be some sort of elaborate joke being played at her expense.

Then, she plunked her head down to rest on her arms where they were crossed on the table, sighing as her daughter contiuned to chortle in delight and Henry and Hook laughed heartily, in spite of their manful efforts to hold back for her sake. “Why am I even surprised?” Emma muttered. “Of course, she is.”

***

From there, they learned that apparently the shelter owner did not have it out for them, but that it can be genuinely hard to tell when a dog is expecting until they are quite close to their due date. It also turned out that Granny’s lupine sixth sense had been right on the money. Within another couple weeks, they could see for themselves that Wolfie’s stomach was rounding and she was nesting in corners throughout the house, particularly favoring the warmth of the laundry room between the dryer and the wall. Seeing as how canine gestation was only eight or nine weeks from start to finish, and their mother-to-be was already showing, it was a bit of a scramble to prepare, knowing the litter of pups would soon be on its way.

As had become typical since Wolfie’s arrival, this too went well beyond what they had expected.  On the night they returned from Hope’s Thanksgiving Play at the preschool to tiny yips and whimpers greeting them the second the door opened, the entire Jones family was stunned to discover eight small wriggling bodies jostling for place against Wolfie’s exhausted form where she lay curled into the mound of old blankets and towels they had created for her once her fixation on her laundry room nest become plain. Various rather wetly bedraggled and squirming balls of grey, black, white and mottled mixes of those three colors in coat greeted their eyes, prompting Killian to comment rather drily, “Well, now there are nearly enough of us to crew a pirate ship.” He chuckled, shaking his head, as he added, “Mayhap we can give them proper nautical names this time, rather than letting Hope call them the first word that pops from her mouth.”

“Paaa-pa!” their daughter protested indignantly, stomping her little foot on the linoleum tile and placing chubby fists on her hips. “I did not!” In her two braids, beaded headband, and fringed brown “Indian” dress from the play, she made more an adorable than a threatening sight as she intended, but Killian nodded to their daughter dutifully all the same. “My apologies, little lass. Of course you didn’t. I must have been mistaken.”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head at his mannered playfulness with Hope, though her heart warmed inside her as well, loving that their little girl had never known anything but a devoted, adoring, present father, who might have to be pulled back from spoiling Hope at times, but would never let her down or abandon her. The two of them could melt her every defense, just as Henry had always done, even if it did sometimes leave her trying to be the voice of reason, Emma didn’t truly mind.

Henry, for his part, snorted inelegantly at their nonsense, crouching to pet a nervous-looking Wolfie on the head and scritch under her chin the way she liked. “Don’t worry, girl,” he mumured soothingly. “We won’t hurt them. You’re all safe here.”

Her son then grew thoughtful for a moment, as if mulling something over, then looked up when he asked excitedly. “What if we did pick nautical names for them all?  Like Jack and Jib and Scurvy?” He was grinning from ear-to-ear now, an expression Killian quickly mirrored, as his Author’s love of wordplay awakened.

“Aye, lad, those are great! And perhaps Scoundrel and Buccaneer as well?”

“Hey, hey, guys,” Emma broke in, trying to stop their now steaming train before they got any more carried away. “Let’s not get too into naming them. The families who adopt them may not be looking for pirate dogs.”

But her husband and son were already on a roll, adding Barrie in a nod to the Englishman who had created Killian’s literary counterpart and Doubloon to the list of potential puppy monikers, and not paying her words the slightest bit of attention.

***

Finding homes for their doggie brood proved more difficult than Emma had hoped. If nothing else, it had worked out that they were being weaned just in time to join a family for the perfect child’s Christmas present. And, much as she had intended for them to have a quiet little tabby kitten padding after her through the house rather than a train of panting, yipping, running and tumbling balls of shedding fluff, the pups were sweet and incredibly cute. So she couldn’t understand how every time she thought she had someone poised to take one home, it fell through at the last moment.

With a sigh, she turned away from the sidewalk where old lady Hubbard was walking away. Still cradling Cutlass and Matey to her chest, one in each arm, Emma crossed the porch to sink onto the porch swing with a dejected air. She bent to press a soft kiss into each of their soft, fuzzy foreheads, murmuring what good babies they were and that it wasn’t their fault. Intellectually, Emma knew it was rather ridiculous to be trying to comfort two puppies who were now playfully rolling and tumbling in her lap, not the least bit concerned at the interview’s outcome. They really had been particularly good as their potential new owner had arrived to meet them; sitting calmly without barking or jumping up, sweetly licking the elderly woman’s fingers affectionately when she offered them, and looking even more adorable than usual with their coats freshly bathed and brushed, so black and silky that their fur nearly shone. All their neighbor had seemed able to focus on though was that they might get under her feet and cause her to fall. When Emma had spoken to her before, the older lady had seemed so anxious for some company now that the last of her many children had left the house, but once she had arrived to see the puppies, all she kept saying was, “I’m all alone out there. If I fell, I might lie for days, unable to get up, and no one would know.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and ruffled the pups’ fur once again, annoyed, but not sure what to make of the situation. Standing, she was about to take the two little rascals back inside when Killian arrived home for the evening.

“They’re both still here?” he asked curiously, one eyebrow arched in question.

Something niggled at the back of Emma’s mind with his question, whispering that he didn’t seem especially suprised. Shaking her head in silent answer, Emma ushered man and dogs back into the house and headed toward the kitchen, where she still had all of the dog dishes to fill.

“Ah well, Love,” Killian replied, something about his voice just a shade too nonchalant. “Perhaps it’s for the best. As energetic as these scalliwags sometimes get,” he laughed and scratched Matey’s belly when she rolled over to bare it in supplication, “they might have proven a walking hazard to one of advanced years.”

Emma was about to question him further, shocked that Killian had hit on exactly what had stopped the potential adoption, but at that moment Wolfie and the other six of her offspring burst into the kitchen and set up a chorus of barks and howls for their dinner, toenails clicking on the floor and tails thunking against the cabinets. So it wasn’t until later that night, as she was speaking to her mother on the phone, bemoaning yet one more failed attempt at finding the pups permanent homes, that the niggling puzzle piece at last slid into place.

“Well,” Snow offered hesitantly, “I’m sorry it fell through, Sweetie, but you know Mrs. Hubbard isn’t all that steady on her feet these days…”

Suddenly, it all added up: Mrs. Hubbard’s unexpected concern with puppies tripping her up around the house, how Ashley had at first thought they might take one of the puppies, only to be convinced by someone that mice would be much more fitting for class pets at Cinderella’s daycare, and how Aurora and Philip’s second child, Hope’s little friend Rory, had suddenly decided she wanted a white Persian kitten whose hair she could put a pink bow in, “like ‘Rie from ‘Ristocats” Aurora had explained in her daughter’s own words when she’d called to tell Emma.

“Oh my word!” Emma shouted, startling her husband, kids, and the pile of dogs sprawled over them in the living room where they were watching tv. “It was you all, wasn’t it? My whole family has been working against me this entire time!”

Looking sheepishly guilty, Killian and Henry both wordlessly shook their heads in denial. Her mother floundered for a defense for a few seconds and then simply fled by ending the call. But when Emma’s eyes came to rest on her daughter, Hope merely grinned widely, a shameless glint of mischief in her green eyes, and nodded her head in confirmation.

“Why?” Emma sputtered.

“Then the puppies are all ours!” her toddler chirped happily, falling back against Wolfie’s shoulder with a giggle, to which Wolfie merely huffed at the impact, then nosed Hope a bit further from the edge of the couch, as if she had one extra pup to watch out for and was making sure the child didn’t fall.

“We’ll see about that,” Emma grumbled, staring each of them down in turn. But, when she flopped down on the armchair in the corner, trying to hold onto her righteous indignation, and Scoundrel came over to check on her, pawing at her leg until she picked him up, and then nudging his grey snout flecked with white patches into her armpit as he stretched out across her chest and promptly fell asleep, Emma was smart enough to know when she had lost the fight.

They were the family with nine dogs now - an entire seaworthy crew.

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