#inspirational adventure Tuesday late night
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you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)
part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me
james potter x reader // read it on AO3
word count: 3.6k
summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”
tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader
author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!
read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)
“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.
Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.
Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”
You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.
Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.
“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”
“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.
Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”
He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”
“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.
“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.
Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.
You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.”
Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.
Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”
There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?”
Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about.
Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”
James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.
Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.
James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”
Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”
Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.”
You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?”
You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.”
You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.”
Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”
You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.
Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile.
“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly.
Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”
Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.
You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”
You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression.
“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!
He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.”
You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”
You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”
“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone.
“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you.
Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently.
You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.
“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.
James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation.
You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP
You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–
“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?
You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–
His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”
You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?”
He thought your eyes were pretty?
James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out.
Oh. Had you said that out loud?
But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–
Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.
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New Releases Week of July 17, 2023
What a week! There are so many books to get excited about this Tuesday.
Just a Hat by Shanah Khubiar
Blackstone Publishing
It’s 1979, and thirteen-year-old Joseph Nissan can’t help but notice that small-town Texas has something in common with Revolution-era Iran: an absence of fellow Jews. And in such a small town it seems obvious that a brown kid like him was bound to make friends with Latinos–which is a plus, since his new buds, the Ybarra twins, have his back. But when the Iran hostage crisis, two neighborhood bullies, and the local reverend’s beautiful daughter put him in all sorts of danger, Joseph must find new ways to cope at home and at school.
As he struggles to trust others and stay true to himself, a fiercely guarded family secret keeps his father at a distance, and even his piano teacher, Miss Eleanor–who is like a grandmother to him–can’t always protect him. But Joseph is not alone, and with a little help from his friends he finds the courage to confront his fears and discovers he can inspire others to find their courage, too.
Firebird by Sunmi
HarperCollins
Caroline Kim is feeling the weight of sophomore year. When she starts tutoring infamous senior Kimberly Park-Ocampo–a charismatic lesbian, friend to rich kids and punks alike–Caroline is flustered . . . but intrigued
Their friendship kindles and before they know it, the two are sneaking out for late-night drives, bonding beneath the stars over music, dreams, and a shared desire of getting away from it all.
A connection begins to smolder . . . but will feelings of guilt and the mounting pressure of life outside of these adventures extinguish their spark before it catches fire?
I’m Not Here to Make Friends by Andrew Yang
Terrace House meets Loveboat, Taipei in this fun, frothy, incisive YA debut, following two teens and their unforgettable summer on a reality show.
When Sabine Zhang is picked for Hotel California, a teen reality show with an all-Asian cast, she jumps at the opportunity. As one of few Asians at her high school in the Midwest, she’s always felt as if she was playing a side character in someone else’s story. But on this show, she’ll finally have a chance to step into the spotlight.
All Yoona Bae wants is to get away. The girls at church think she’s mean, her mom thinks she’s a troublemaker, and she’s tired of fighting against her unearned bad reputation. So when she’s invited to appear on Hotel California, Yoona sees it as an opportunity to chill out, make some friends, maybe even get a tan.
But life on the show isn’t all sunshine and self-actualization. The producers want drama at all costs, even if it means pitting Sabine and Yoona against each other. With the season finale looming, can the girls figure out a peaceful way forward, before they lose control of their own narratives?
Frontera by Julio Anta, Jacoby Salcedo (Illustrator)
Mateo makes the dangerous journey back home to the United States through the Sonoran Desert with the help of a new friend, a ghost named Guillermo in a supernatural borderland odyssey by debut graphic novelists Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo. As long as he remembers to stay smart and keep his eyes open, Mateo knows that he can survive the trek across the Sonoran Desert that will take him from Mexico to the United States.
That is until he’s caught by the Border Patrol only moments after sneaking across the fence in the dead of night. Escaping their clutches comes at a price and, lost in the desert without a guide or water, Mateo is ill-prepared for the unforgiving heat that is sure to arrive come sunrise. With the odds stacked against him, his one chance at survival may be putting his trust in something, or rather someone, that he isn’t even sure exists. If you’d asked him if ghosts were real before he found himself face-to-face with one, Mateo wouldn’t have even considered it.
But now, confronted with the nearly undeniable presence of Guillermo, he’s having second thoughts. Having spent his afterlife guiding migrants to safety, Guillermo knows things about the Sonoran Desert far beyond what could be explained by a mere hallucination. But even as Mateo forms an uneasy partnership with Guillermo, survival is still uncertain. The Sonoran Desert, with its hostile temperatures and inhabitants, is teeming with danger as the Border Patrol and rogue militias prowl its deadly terrain. As his journey stretches on, Mateo will have to decide exactly what and who he’s willing to sacrifice to find home.
A Guide to the Dark by Meriam Metoui
Henry Holt
You can check out of Room 9, but you can never leave.
The Haunting of Hill House meets Nina LaCour in this paranormal mystery YA about the ghosts we carry with us.
Something is building, simmering just out of reach.
The room is watching. But Mira and Layla don’t know this yet. When the two best friends are stranded on their spring break college tour road trip, they find themselves at the Wildwood Motel, located in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Mira can’t shake the feeling that there is something wrong and rotten about their room. Inside, she’s haunted by nightmares of her dead brother. When she wakes up, he’s still there.
Layla doesn’t see him. Or notice anything suspicious about Room 9. The place may be a little run down, but it has a certain charm she can’t wait to capture on camera. If Layla is being honest, she’s too preoccupied with confusing feelings for Mira to see much else. But when they learn eight people died in that same room, they realize there must be a connection between the deaths and the unexplainable things that keep happening inside it. They just have to find the connection before Mira becomes the ninth.
Under This Forgetful Sky by Lauren Yero
In the spirit of Paolo Bacigalupi and Laini Taylor, this futuristic star-crossed love story follows two teens in a starkly unequal world struggling to find their place.
Sixteen-year-old Rumi Sabzwari has spent his entire life behind the armored walls of St. Iago, which protect citizens of the Union of Upper Cities from the outside world’s environmental devastation. But when rebels infect his father with a fatal virus, Rumi escapes St. Iago, desperate to find a cure.
In the ruined city of Paraíso, Rumi meets fifteen-year-old Paz, who agrees to guide him on his journey. As they travel together, Rumi finds himself drawn to Paz—and behind her tough exterior, she begins to feel the same way. But Paz knows more about Rumi’s father’s illness than she’s saying and has her own agenda. With the powerful forces at play in their cities putting them at odds, can the two learn to trust in each other—enough to imagine a different world?
Clementine and Danny Save the World by Livia Blackburne
You’ve Got Mail gets a YA twist in this rom-com that spotlights the power of activism and community organizing in the face of gentrification.
Clementine Chan believes in the power of the written word. Under the pseudonym Hibiscus, she runs a popular blog reviewing tea shops and discussing larger issues within her Chinatown community. She has a loyal, kind following, save for this one sour grape named BobaBoy888.
Danny Mok is allergic to change, and the gentrification seeping into Chinatown breaks his heart. He channels his frustration into his internet alter ego, BobaBoy888, bickering with local blogger Hibiscus over all things Chinatown and tea.
When a major corporation reveals plans that threaten to shut down the Mok’s beloved tea shop, Clementine and Danny find themselves working together in real life to save this community they both love. But as they fall hard for this cause—and each other—they have no clue that their online personas have been fighting for years.
When the truth comes to light, can Danny and Clementine still find their happily-ever-after?
I Am Not Alone by Francisco X. Stork
Scholastic Press
Alberto’s life isn’t easy: He’s an undocumented immigrant from Mexico who lives with his sister’s abusive boyfriend—but he’d always accepted his place in the world. Until he starts hearing the voice of a man called Captain America, a voice that wants him to achieve more, no matter the cost.
Grace has it all: She has a supportive boyfriend, she’s on track to be valedictorian, and she’s sure to go to the college of her dreams. Still, nothing feels right to her any more after the divorce of her parents, and feels she needs something more.
When Alberto and Grace meet, they have an immediate and electric connection. But when Alberto is present at the scene of a terrible crime, he becomes a suspect. And with his developing schizophrenia, he’s not even sure he believes in his own innocence.
Can Grace find a way to prove Alberto’s innocence to himself and the world?
This is a page-turning thriller and a sensitive story about mental health, love, and community that will appeal to anyone who has struggled with their place in the world, from award-winning author Francisco X. Stork.
What a Desi Girl Wants Sabina Khan
The romance of Becky Albertalli meets the nuanced family dynamics of Darius the Great is Not Okay in this YA novel from acclaimed author Sabina Khan.
Mehar hasn’t been back to India since she and her mother moved away when she was only four. Hasn’t visited her father, her grandmother, her family, or the home where she grew up. Why would she? Her father made it clear that she’s not his priority when he chose not to come to the US with them.
But when her father announces his engagement to socialite Naz, Mehar reluctantly agrees to return for the wedding. Maybe she and her father can heal their broken relationship. And after all, her father is Indian royalty, and his home is a palace–the wedding is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime affair.
While her father still doesn’t make the time for her, Mehar barely cares once she meets Sufiya, her grandmother’s assistant, and one of the most grounded, thoughtful, kind people she’s ever met! Though they come from totally different worlds, their friendship slowly starts to blossom into something more . . . Mehar thinks.
Meanwhile, Mehar’s dislike for Naz and her social media influencer daughter, Aleena, deepens. She can tell that the two of them are just using her father for his money. Mehar’s starting to think that putting a stop to this wedding might be the best thing for everyone involved.
But what happens when telling her father the truth about Naz and Aleena means putting her relationship with Sufiya at risk . . .
The Legacy of Yangchen (The Yangchen Novels #2) by F.C. Lee
Amulet Books
Avatar Yangchen has succeeded in bringing a measure of stability to Bin-Er, but her successes have been limited to a single city, and rumors concerning Unanimity—a weapon capable of total obliteration—have led to increasing tensions among the Four Nations.
Desperate to restore diplomacy, Yangchen attempts to de-escalate hostilities between heads of state. But in the wake of a brutal assassination and the freeing of Unanimity, Yangchen is forced to bring Kavik—the trusted former companion whose betrayal crushed her—back into her fold.
As the Four Nations teeter on the brink of conflict and she begins to unravel the power-hungry Zongdu Chaisee’s true agenda, Yangchen is forced to measure the worth of humanity, and how much can be sacrificed in the name of balance.
This taut and provocative fourth installment in the Chronicles of the Avatar series follows Avatar Yangchen as she charts the course of her legacy, finally making peace with her choices and facing Avatarhood with the courage it demands.
Splintered Magic (The Mirror #4) by L.L. McKinney
Disney Hyperion
Can dreams come true when you’re living with a family curse?
NEW YORK CITY, 2000
Twins Trey and Tai are not like other high schoolers. Trey struggles to suppress his surging magical abilities, which continually impede his dream of making first chair cello in orchestra. A budding photographer, Tai just wants to take pictures and maybe find someone to take them with. But disturbing images keep appearing in Tai’s camera lens, reigniting the twins’ search for their mother, who mysteriously disappeared ten years earlier. As the two discover more clues, Trey and Tai also uncover strange secrets about their magical ancestors and about a cunning villain who threatens their very survival. Together, Trey and Tai must work to unearth the past and preserve the future of their family.
The Mirror: Splintered Magic is the fourth book in the innovative YA fairy-tale quartet following one family—and the curse that plagues it—over several generations.
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❝ When I was a kid, people used to make fun of me for eating chapstick. Well . . . if I wasn't supposed to eat it, why'd they make it taste so good? ❞
Seline is a villager who lives in Pelican Town who is often chatty and adventurous, loves art, and always gets injured. She works at the Blacksmith most days between 9am to 4pm and has a busy social life. She goes to Zuzu City on Fridays and has weekends off. She’s available to marry.
Monday, Wednesday
9am — she wakes up 30 minutes before she is scheduled to work , rushes through a half - baked morning routine ( wash face, moisturize + spf, lipgloss, go ). she shows up late most days but especially on monday.
10:30am — ever the silly little drink enthusiast, seline takes an inappropriately long morning break to find a caffeinated, syrupy concoction. she also picks up a Little Treat to make herself feel better for being late ( again ). if she's low on funds, she'll trot back to her house & make a drink there. she might throw on some eyeliner and mascara if she's feeling like it. during this 15-20 minutes, seline is hard to find.
1pm — by now, she's hungry for a Bigger Treat and finds somewhere to eat lunch. on nice days she will throw something together at 1am the night before & eat it outside. if she's super busy or inspired, she'll eat it at work and doodle. sometimes, she'll make her way over to wherever ( or whoever ) has something to eat.
4pm — home to shower, change into something more comfortable, and waste time. on nice days, she takes the long way home. she might go around and visit some of the residents or lolly-gag near the icecream stand.
5 pm — seline makes her way to her shed-turned-art studio and gets to work on her newest creation.
9 pm — she finishes up, goes inside for a late supper, does her quick 4 step skin care routine and some light chores.
12 am — seline is in bed reading fanfiction, trying to get her brain to shut up so she can sleep for work tomorrow !
Tuesday, Thursday
9am to 5pm is the same as monday and wednesday. after work, however, she will make a point to go to the beach and search for seaglass.
6pm onwards — seline is open for interactions and different plans. if unplanned for, seline will go to the skatepark and hangout with her sketchbook.
Friday
8am — seline wakes up disgustingly early ( for her ) with a lot of excitement. she packs a small bag with her daily essentials ( peach lip gloss, water bottle, spf, emergency hat + umbrella, phone charger, headphones ). she eats a big breakfast.
9am to 6pm — she packs up all of the glass creations she has completed this week and makes her way to zuzu city where she drops them off at a few shops she has consignment agreements with. she also puts up a few posters about her commissions. if she has time, she will stick around and shop or visit some art galleries, but she mostly tries to stick to her plan.
7pm onwards — seline either has other plans or you can find her at the stardrop saloon, socializing or sitting down and sketching some new ideas to get up to this weekend.
Saturday
this day is completely free for seline, but she sleeps in extra and then explores the valley for materials she can create art with. there are many-a-trip to the beach for sea glass hunting & she often goes by the general store to bug maude if they're working or look through the recycling bins for glass bottles.
Sunday
seline cannot be found anywhere besides her workshop from dusk til dawn. you'd have to be very special for her to spend time with you on a sunday. on the occasional day where seline does not have muse, she might have a "self care day" and spend the entire time in a blanket fort in her bedroom watching reruns.
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Week 9 in Prague: The Rhythm of the City - From Jazz Nights to Morning Markets, with a Weekend Detour to Split, Croatia
"Syncing Up with Prague: Exploring the City's Pulse Through Its Music and Markets, Plus a Sun-Soaked Escape to Split"
I apologize for being a little late this week, days go by abroad in a flash and I’ve lost complete lack of time on several occasions. To add a crescendo to this week, a weekend getaway to the stunning seaside city of Split, Croatia, provided a refreshing contrast with the amazing weather and a dose of Mediterranean charm. But despite that, as my time in Prague stretches into its ninth week, I've decided to take more advantage of the city I call home and dive into the rhythm that drives this historic city, exploring the vibrancy of its music scene and the energy of its morning markets. Traveling almost every weekend has made me realize that my days in Prague are so numbered and there’s still so much to explore. Let me walk you through my week really quickly to highlight exactly what the past few days entailed and why my blog post is late.
Saturday: Coastal Charm in Split
The weekend brought a significant change in scenery and tempo as I landed in Split, Croatia. The city greeted me with its radiant sunshine (god bless that) and the vibrant blues of the Adriatic Sea. The day was spent exploring the Diocletian’s Palace, a remarkable ancient palace that now forms the heart of Split. Walking through the stone streets, I was mesmerized by the blend of Roman architecture and bustling modern life. We found ourselves doing a party boat tour from island to island, exploring new towns and blue lagoons along the way. Big shoutout to Mary and Piero, our boat drivers who gave us the time of our lives and if you go to Split, which I recommend wholeheartedly as it might be one of my favorite cities abroad, you gotta do that boat tour.
Sunday: A Day on the Dalmatian Coast
Continuing my Croatian adventure, I took to the beaches of Split. The day was spent soaking up the sun and sea, contrasting the Gothic and Baroque rhythms of Prague with the natural harmony of the Dalmatian coast. I made my way to Marjan Hill for a late afternoon hike, where the panoramic views of the city and the sea were breathtaking. The tranquil moments on Marjan Hill, looking out over Split, provided a very similar and breathtaking view similar to the one you get when you go atop Prague Castle.
Monday: Jazzing Up the Evening
The week in Prague kicked off with a visit to a famed jazz club nestled along the banks of the Vltava. The intimate setting, dim lighting, and the soft clink of glasses set the stage for a night of mesmerizing performances. It was my first time in a Jazz club, and I had no idea what to expect. But lo and behold, it might be one of my favorite bars ever. The music was mainly classic jazz played by musicians whose fingers seemed to barely touch the instruments, yet filled the room with their melodies that make you just want to get up and dance.
Tuesday: A Melodic Stroll
Inspired by the previous night's music, I spent Tuesday exploring the streets of Prague with a new soundtrack: the melodies I had heard at the jazz club. My walk took me from the bustling Wenceslas Square down to the quieter, tree-lined paths of Vyšehrad. This was all on the way to the beer gardens, which opened up two weeks ago, but since I was traveling so much, I did not get a chance to visit. The view from the beer gardens along with the ambiance makes sense why it is such a big tourist attraction. I’ve only had a taste of it, but I can imagine that Prague in the summertime is a completely different experience with all the activities that open up.
Wednesday: Market Morning
Midweek called for a change of tempo. I headed to one of Prague's morning markets, a place where the city’s authenticity beats the hardest. If there’s one thing you start doing, please for everything you love visit these markets. There is so much fresh produce, homemade pastries, and aromatic spices. You can sample local cheeses and chat with the vendors who are all eager to hear the viewpoint of an American study abroad student. In fact, this time I went, one of the stand owners started to share recipes and food tips with a smile. He looked so happy while doing so, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’m vegetarian and can’t eat a single thing he told me to write down. This whole experience made me feel more connected to the city than ever. Each bite was a taste of Prague’s culinary heritage, revealing layers of flavor and history.
Reflecting on the Week
Returning to Prague on Sunday evening, the trip to Split remained a vivid splash of color in my memory, a reminder of the world’s vast tapestry of cultures, rhythms, and landscapes. This week's exploration of Prague through its music and markets, coupled with the refreshing detour to Croatia, reinforced how travel not only broadens our horizons but also deepens our appreciation for the diversity and beauty of our experiences.
This coming weekend, I am headed to Munich for Springfest (aka a lot of beer). Next week back in Prague, you can expect me to visit the Prague Zoo (a top 4 zoo in the world on some list so I’ll believe it and go).
Till next week's adventures,
Rachit Khandelwal
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Coffee Rituals and My Favorite Band
Working from home, French press coffee, and my thoughts on balancing personal storytelling versus my They Might Be Giants newsletter.
“Let’s type our pages into the ol’ iPhone notes app today. Sitting on a desk in DuPont, WA is a blue leather-bound book, undisturbed and not being written in. It was left there yesterday as I assured myself I would be working in the office the next day (today) and by a sudden turn of fate, I did not work in the office today. I’m working from home. Why this change of tide? Because I stayed up late and decided my morning could go a lot easier if I didn’t wake up at 5 am. Since I have the flexibility and no meetings today, it’s a viable option and as of 7:20 am at the time of writing this, it’s my reality.”
A hairdryer blows from the bathroom as Chase’s wife gets ready for work. When it turns off, a podcast can be heard faintly. Nicole, a Piss Pig through and through, is listening to her morning shows. Getting up from the couch, Chase sleepily adventures to the kitchen. His plan did not spare him from being tired. The debt for staying up must still be paid. He needs coffee and is kicking himself for purchasing coffee beans to grind and make French press rather than more K-cups for the instant machine last weekend.
“Damn you, Saturday Chase,” he writes in his phone’s app, not actually off from the couch.
“You have really made a mess of things for me with your weekend optimism and ‘love of the French press ritual’ in the mornings. That shit is for the WEEKEND. Not a Tuesday morning.”
Chase succumbs to his environment and pours half a cup of freshly ground coffee into the French press carafe while he waits for his water to boil. Today can still be a good day because at the end of it all, there is a bed about 30ft away that he will reunite with and fall deeply asleep.
10 Long Journaless Entries Later. . .
Back on the couch. It’s a Saturday morning and Grace is awake next to Chase watching Adventure Time. An incense holder designed to look like a plague doctor of the past is emitting scented smoke out of its goggle-masked eyes. On the TV, Finn the Human is visiting Primso the Wishmaster for the first time. The world-building in this animated series always inspires Chase to continue in his quest to be a more fulfilled and prolific writer. Even if not renowned or even profitable, creating worlds from seemingly nothing is something a writer does. Chase considers himself a writer.
“Nicole went camping with friends yesterday after work and I’ve been feeling like I’m getting sick and opted not to go,” Chase manages to type into his phone when not distracted by the cartoon. “Honestly, it’s in the mountains and supposed to rain. That doesn’t sound like a fun time while getting sick. Instead, this morning I’m going to have brunch with my kids at Art House Cafe and then rest.”
CUT TO:
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
Chase is lying in his bed 11:59 PM. One arm under the covers and another lying across his forehead. This is his preferred way to sleep.
CHASE (V.O.)
It’s been over 12 hours since I started writing today. Headaches kept coming on and I felt exhausted for much of it. I’ll bet if I were to search for the most used word in all of my written entries, it would be “tired.” Probably a sign that I need to exercise more, eat healthier, and do a better job of prioritizing sleep. Already not happening tonight but maybe one day.
Chase lays still and lets out a deep sigh, wondering how any of what he writes will tie into the book that he envisions. Recently, he found himself starting a new writing project. Another newsletter called, “Kiss Me, Son of Blog,” where Chase intends to write about every song by the band They Might Be Giants. He wonders if this is another fun creative outlet or a self-sabotaging distraction.
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TWITL - week 2 - felt a bit dragged
TUESDAY - 9 January
I'm thinking maybe I need a new format for my blog. Maybe not post daily but perhaps write something randomly and do a wrap up at the end of the week. If I write during the week, then I might not have as much to do at the end of the week besides some short musings or the like. Let's try it this week.
I did screenshots before bed last night of a Canadian show called STAT because Thomas Beaudoin, my new Muse apparently, made an appearance and of course I just had to have a gander. I was just going to skim to his scenes, do the screenshots, then go along my merry way. When I saw French subtitles, I frowned a little because the words were getting in the way of the screenshots. At this point, I popped on my AirPods and turned up the audio to find that Docteur Davis, his character, was speaking French AND English, which meant the French subtitles were for the folks who don't understand English. Neat!
https://flic.kr/p/2prqhE3
I must say, the fact that he can go from English to French so smoothly was just lovely to hear. I was quite happy to watch his scenes even if I had no idea what was going. Actually, I figured out the gist of it from the English bits but the whole thing was still chaos to me because I think the show is a bit on the soap opera side and the episode seemed to start in the middle of the action. Anyhoo, he looked rather nice all scruffy while wearing military BDUs. Way to hit my fangirl buttons, whew!
https://flic.kr/p/2prqU3K
Adan Canto died yesterday. I remember him best on his turn in the show The Following and I will always remember thinking how much he reminded me of "my" Kevin Smith ("Ares" on Xena and Hercules). I didn't follow his career very closely but I saw his work over the years and figured he'd appear in something I was watching sooner or later. Alas, it will not be.
Journey well into the next, Adan...
Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Tonight's episode was another good one! It was lovely seeing Timothy Omundson as Hephaestus and I will always have a soft spot for the character of Ares because of the aforementioned Kevin Smith. Adam Copeland's turn as the god of war was a joy to watch. I am very seriously enjoying this show.
WEDNESDAY - 10 January
https://flic.kr/p/2prG6Vx
We had a bit of rain today. Nothing too serious.
Since I've upgraded my webhost, I feel like I need to update this website. Maybe I should revive Moonlit Jazz, which has been languishing in its current state for... over 8 years. Eight years?! In its last iteration, it was the place where I dropped my daily photos for Project 365. I now do Project 365 at my secondary Instagram (@vasiakiari). Now it just sits as it has since 2015.
Back to this place though, kiari.com. I'm using a different theme but I think it's a work in progress at this point. Maybe I'll keep hunting around for more inspirational themes. We'll see if I settle on anything for more than a day.
THURSDAY - 11 January
Oh, Xena: Warrior Princess and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys is streaming on Amazon Prime! I already own XWP on iTunes (and DVD!) but I never did pony up the money for HTLJ. Now when I'm feeling nostalgic, I can head to Amazon Prime to watch either of those two shows. Oh, and do screenshots. For some reason, I felt like doing screenshots of Hades, as played by Erik Thomson. I marvel how back in the late 90s, it took FOREVER to do screenshots. Now it's just minutes, depending on how many scenes my subject is in. It's wild!
https://flic.kr/p/2prYUcR
from the Xena: Warrior Princess episode, "Adventures in the Sin Trade"
I should do a re-watch of both HTLJ and XWP. I'll have to compartmentalize myself a bit and forget about how the one playing Hercules didn't turn out so well and just enjoy the episodes. XWP will be easier to re-watch because it was always the stronger show to me, in terms of characters and plots, though Michael Hurst (Iolaus) did make me cry in an episode of HTLJ. Just doing these screenshots brushed aside the veil of time to remind me of how it felt when the shows first aired.
https://flic.kr/p/2prZ7tV
from the Hercules: The Legendary Journey episode, "The Other Side"
Honestly, soon after I started watching the shows, I found that I gravitated towards the guest stars, especially Erik Thomson and the late Kevin Smith, who played Ares. They were the reason I watched. They were the reason I started chatting online with like minded fans. They were the reason I started my website. They are part of the me that is Kiari. I made lifelong friends because of the show, the conventions, the mutual love for the guest stars. And I will ever be grateful...
FRIDAY - 12 January
It's finally the weekend! Yes, it's Friday evening and I have three whole days without work. Good times! Don't have any real plans. Maybe I'll clean. Maybe I'll do some laundry. Maybe I'll take lots of naps. We shall see!
https://flic.kr/p/2ps4UmV
wearing my favorite vest jacket
Since I was feeling nostalgic after doing those screenshots, I pulled out my Hercules/Xena crew vest jacket. I always LOVE wearing this vest jacket, as I'm sure I've said plenty of times here. I love all the pockets. I love all the details. I love that it crossed space and time to become mine. And I love that Chris Conrad sent it to me. I still marvel at that last point. So very sweet of him. It makes me smile to wear it.
SUNDAY - 14 January
https://flic.kr/p/2pmyEv2
Luis Gerardo Méndez y Miguel Ángel Silvestre en la primera temporada de Los Enviados
Los Enviados/The Envoys - We binge watched the second season today. I liked it! I might have liked it better than the first season. The nun had a bigger part and she was a delight. The ending felt a little as if they'd be back in the little town. The Brotherhood seemed to be unfinished business. I'd love another season of the two priests and the nun...
30 Monedas/30 Coins - We started another Miguel Ángel Silvestre show. Second season again. The first few episodes were a bit heavy on the monster-like imagery. Effectively creepy, especially if you're religious in the Catholic way. It's an adjustment going from Simón Antequera (Los Enviados) to Paco (30 Monedas). Despite being played by Miguel Ángel Silvestre, the two characters are so very different...
https://flic.kr/p/2oSKgLE
Miguel Ángel Silvestre en la primera temporado de 30 Monedas
And that's week number two of 2024 in the books! Time for bed...
Read the full article
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Join breweries Von Ebert and Gigantic in a pub crawl to celebrate their collaboration release - Enjoy House IPA.
image courtesy Gigantic Brewing
Press Release
Portland, Oregon: Gigantic Brewing Company has teamed up with Von Ebert Brewing Company to create a new beer that captures the spirit of Tokyo nightlife. Enjoy House! IPA is a summer IPA with an over-the-top hop profile featuring tropical flavors of pineapple, mango, and orange zest.
The idea for this beer came from a serendipitous encounter in Tokyo during the Hood to Fuji Beerfest, when the brewmasters from Gigantic & Von Ebert were walking the city looking for their next stop. They saw a second-story window with “Enjoy House!” painted on it that was lit with Christmas lights. They went up the stairs to discover a dive bar decorated with streamers and balloons with cool music and friendly vibes. That late-night experience inspired them to create Enjoy House! IPA.
“We were amazed by the energy of Enjoy House!, purely the vibe and style. Most people probably don’t notice the second-story bar window in the bright lights of the city, but when we walked in we felt like we’d discovered the raddest local hangout,” said Ben Love. “We wanted to create a beer that would capture that feeling of fun and adventure.”
When asked about creating the beer Gigantic Masterbrewer Van Havig said, “Sam Pecoraro - Von Ebert’s brewmaster - thought it would be fun to showcase both their and our hand-selected lots of Citra hops in a bright IPA for the summer. It’s always interesting to see what other people are looking for in the hops they purchase, so we both learned a little something about the other. We chose to dry hop with a Citra/Strata combination because it’s something we both really like”.
Enjoy House is available on draft and in bottle for First Taste Tuesday on Tuesday, June 27th at all three Gigantic locations, The Brewery & Champagne Lounge (5224 SE 26th), Robot Room at Rocket Empire Machine (6935 NE Glisan), and Hawthorne Pub (4344 SE Hawthorne). Look for Enjoy House IPA on draft and in 16.9oz refillable bottles at your favorite bar, bottle shop, bodega, or grocer in the Portland metro area! We also sent a limited shipment to the Seattle area, Southern Oregon and California.
There is also a pub crawl planned for Friday, June 30th with Gigantic and Von Ebert brewers. The crawl kicks off at 5pm at Gigantic’s Hawthorne Pub (4334 SE Hawthorne). We will then continue on to 3 more locations within walking distance. Join us, it’s going to be a lot of fun!
The Enjoy House label features art by returning artist Vidhya Nagarajan. She is a talented illustrator and letterer based in NYC. Her work has been featured in various publications and platforms such as the NYTimes, Washington Post, NPR, Google, Apple, and many more. She enjoys traveling, cooking, and watching Bollywood movies.
As always, Gigantic beer is packaged in BottleDrop Refillable bottles. BottleDropRefillables are sorted, washed, inspected, and delivered back to Oregon’s craft beverage producers to be refilled. By choosing beverages in refillable bottles, you help keep our air clean, our beaches, parks, and roadsides litter-free, promote a circular economy, and set a model for future generations.
from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/430wqOt
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Pizza and Beer Find a New Home at Nolita Joe’s in Poblacion
Two concepts join forces to create the first Pizza Bar in Manila. The mouthwatering combo of pizza and beer is taking over Poblacion, as Nolita Joe’s opens its doors this May. A union between Nolita Pizza and Joe’s Brew, the new pizza-beer joint offers the best of both worlds, with the former’s beloved fully loaded and freshly made pies and the latter’s best-selling craft ales and brews.
Originally separate entities, Pat Santos of Nolita and Joey and Marco Viray of Joe’s Brew struck a partnership that resulted in the refreshed F&B concept located in the heart of Makati. Nolita Joe’s is located at 5666 Don Pedro Street, Barangay Poblacion, Makati City, and is open on Tuesdays to Sundays from 6pm to 3am.
Known for their authentic New York-style pizzas that feature a crust with a unique combination of crunch and chewiness and in flavors inspired by the city that never sleeps, Nolita’s pies have cemented their name in the casual dining scene.
Joe’s Brew, on the other hand, boasts a truly homegrown mark, starting from the Virays’ garage and eventually finding its space in Poblacion. Following the effects of the pandemic on the restaurant industry, the two found the opportunity to team up and deliver handcrafted flavors topped with a unique concept not yet found in the area.
Perfect for a late afternoon snack to wind down after work, a starting point for a night out in Poblacion, or even a nightcap post-dancing and bar hopping, guests can savor a fuss-free meal with their favorite Nolita pizza flavors. Choose from the melt-in-your-mouth Four Cheese, the sumptuous Chicken Parmesan, rustic yet robust Wild Mushroom, or crowd-favorite SPM - that’s sausage, pepperoni and mushroom - just to name a few, and get it served hot by the slice or as a whole in 12”, 16” and even 21” pies.
Each order is made complete when paired with Joe’s Brew’s signature craft beverages from lighter hops like the Fish Rider Pale Ale and Sierra Madre Wheat Ale, to full-bodied brews such as 34th Pursuit IPA and Sunsweeper IPA.
Adventurous patrons can also sample experimental IPA and Pale Ale brews. Nolita Joe’s fully stocked bar also offers drinks on the rocks, cocktails, natural wines and more. Fans of both brands should also be on the lookout for menu updates, as more beloved classics will soon be offered.
No time to dine in? Order through Nolita Joe’s hotline, website or GrabFood for freshly made whole pizzas and cold beer bottles delivered straight to your doorstep.
The classic pairing is elevated at the first Pizza Bar in Manila, thanks not only to the F&B offerings, but also to the space inspired by a typical New York dive bar, the neighborhood go-to that everyone can rely on for a fun, yet relaxed hangout. It features a fusion of Nolita’s industrial design, with subway tiles and metal fixtures, and Joe’s Brew’s steampunk aesthetic, with one-of-a-kind retrofuture decor and accents.
The pizza bar will also be home to events for all crowds, with karaoke nights, live DJs and watch parties for Formula 1, football and more. Diners can also host their own gatherings, as Nolita Joe’s is open for private events.
There’s no better way to kick off or end the night, than with a pizza in one hand, a beer in the other and your friends all around. Swing by the new Nolita Joe’s today or order in to grab a freshly made slice of the Big Apple and take a swig of the best local brews.
Selected menu items are also available for pickup and delivery within Greater Metro Manila. Order via Nolita Joe’s website, GrabFood or hotline at (0945) 328-2561. Book a private event at Nolita Joe’s by sending a message on Instagram (@nolitajoes) or via hotline at 0945 328 2561. For more information and updates on offers, follow Nolita Joe’s on Instagram (@nolitajoes).
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Week Eight
Back to Patagonia
Week eight started with me anxiously awaiting Austin’s arrival. On Monday, I spent the day prepping our travels and finalizing all I could for my last article due before our vacation. That evening I went out for coffee with Meli, which was a great way to pass the time.
On Tuesday, Austin finally touched down in Buenos Aires! His journey into the city was a long and stressful one, but he finally made it, exhausted and excited. We didn’t do anything too crazy on his first day in town, as he was understandably jetlagged. But I was able to show him around my neighborhood and take him for coffee and delicious pizza. We had an early night to prep for the next day.
With Wednesday came a day trip to Tigre — the town in the Buenos Aires province but outside the city — with the twofold purpose of showing Austin the dense jungle and river canals of the region and finalizing my reporting for the week.
I’m noticing more and more confidence with my Spanish nowadays, and it’s been so rewarding to look back on my progress. I had a few really successful street interviews in Tigre for a story on the importance of the region to Buenos Aires. I chatted with a father-daughter duo who were both from a town just outside Tigre and who provided me with insightful views of the beautiful area. And I spoke with a shopkeeper who further contextualized the importance of tourism in the region. All in all, it was an insanely productive and validating trip. Bonus: Austin really liked it too!
We ended the day with wine and snacks at a friend’s place and an early bedtime…
… Which was mainly to make our 3:00 a.m. wakeup the next morning for our 6:00 a.m. flight to Bariloche! It seems my Calafate jam worked its magic as I had the privilege of visiting Patagonia twice in the span of one week. This time, we were heading to northern Patagonia — the Lake District — to visit the Swiss-inspired, fondue-loving, chocolatiering town of Bariloche. Our AirBnB treated us to spectacular views of Lake Nahuel Huapi, and we spent most of Thursday exploring the cute shops and drinking hot chocolate to stay warm in the considerably-more-chilly region. We had the best sushi delivered for a dinner-and-a-movie date night, and went to bed ready for our vacation weekend.
Friday brought more cold and wet, as the wind howled all day long. We grabbed coffee in the morning then set off on our main adventure of the day: high tea at the Llao Llao Hotel, a resort about 10 miles outside of Bariloche. A 40-minute bus ride later and we made it just in time for our reservation. Tea was incredible and so fancy, everything I love about loving food. We enjoyed our time and made it back to Bariloche late, happy to get some MacDonald’s fries and watch another movie, calling it a night as the rain started coming down.
We woke up to snow Saturday morning, my first snow in Argentina! The streets were covered in the soft fluff as we went for a late breakfast at a nearby cafe.
The day before, we had met a Mendoza sommelier named Ariel, and after our conversation, he invited us to a private wine tasting scheduled for Saturday. Of course we happily accepted the invitation. So after breakfast, we made the mile trek up toward the mountains and to the house of a woman named Dan, friends with Ariel and a sommelier herself. It was an incredible, intimate experience, learning about Ariel’s wine while Dan made small food pairings to go with each glass. In total, there were about 10 of us, Austin and I being the only foreigners. The entire time, I felt so grateful to have been invited, and so in-awe of the amazing opportunity to learn more about Argentinian wine and to flex my Spanish muscles. We left happy and content.
That evening, we had a reservation at a popular fondue restaurant in town. It was our first time trying the Swiss dish, and it blew my expectations out of the water. We got home that night full and wiped after such a long day.
Sunday was mostly a travel day for us. We reflected on our Bariloche trip and looked forward to the upcoming week — full of touristy Buenos Aires activities. What a beautiful weekend of eating, hiding from the cold, and enjoying our time together. Patagonia has been so good to me!
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Rating: 4.5/5
Book blurb: An airport pet groomer meets her frequent flier crush in this captivating romance novella from the acclaimed author of How to Fail at Flirting
Ollie Wright loves the thrill of taking chances, like opening a pet grooming salon in an airport where every day is a little unpredictable. The one thing she won't risk is her heart, so catching glimpses of a cute stranger from afar is enough romantic entanglement for her.
Bennett Baker is a professional risk assessor by day while writing popular romance novels at night, except he finds himself facing writer's block. His life of carefully planned stability comes crashing down when he rescues a slippery pup in the airport and returns it to the enchanting pet groomer whose laugh inspires him to start writing again.
Their chance encounter and instant chemistry thrusts them into a whirlwind of airport dates at pretzel kiosks, stolen glances at empty gates, and late-night texts that leave them swooning. If the risk-adverse Bennett can take a chance on uncertainty and adventurous Ollie will break her own rule, their relationship might stop taxiing and actually take off.
Review:
A airport pet groomer who has a crush on a frequent flier finds herself living out her romance dreams after a dog rescue. Ollie Wright is a pet groomer at a salon in the airport. She’s had a crush on one particular frequent flier she see’s every Tuesday but hasn’t had the chance to talk to him yet...until a dog escapes from her and he ends up rescuing said dog. That’s how she meets Bennett Bennett is a professional risk assessor by day but is a popular romance writer by night. He’s been having a tough time with writer’s block until he suddenly meets an extremely cute pet groomer while saving an escaped dog. suddenly Bennett has met his muse and he can’t stop thinking about her. What starts off as cute little stops soon turns into dates and something more as Bennett and Ollie try and figure out their relationship and how they’re going to make this work. This was a super cute and fun read. I loved that Bennett was a romance author who was trying to figure out his own romance when he finally met the perfect woman for him.
#book review#bookish#romance read#romance book#the love connection#love and other flight delays#denise williams
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Haikyuu poly headcannons!! <33
Pairs: Kageyama & Hinata, Oikawa & Iwaizumi, Ushijima & Tendo, Sakusa & Atsumu, Kurro & Kenma, and finally Bokuto & Akaashi.
part 2
Sfw AND Nsfw
Slight time skip spoilers!!!
let me know what you want to see next
word count: 2.6K I got a bit carried away. lol
FEMALE READER
Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyo
Sfw
It's a constant fight for attention
They are polar opposites, Hinata is warm and energetic while Kageyama is confused and awkward, but they both love you so much it hurts.
How you got together was kind of a funny story, you and Hinata knew each other from middle school and reconnected when you met at a local mall in tokyo. So when you and Hinata started hanging out more he couldn't help but brag to Kageyama about it, which led to him wanting to meet you and thus began the year long fight for your love.
You couldn't choose between them so they came to the decision that they would just share you!
Your dynamics are pretty simple, you spend as much time with whoever is not at practice at the time, lucky they have two completely different practice schedules, Hinata in the morning and Kageyama in the afternoon.
That meant cuddling with Kags in the morning and cooking lunch with Hinata in the afternoon.
You guys also have a weekly date night! You have a rotation of who gets to choose what they want to do.
Unsurprisingly Hinata likes volleyball inspired dates, but he also likes the movie and picnic dates!
Kageyama is a bit more romantic, shockingly (he read a dating book), like romantic dinners and late night walks , shopping, anything to see you happy.
They also love anything you want to do, stay in? They make popcorn for movies. Dinner? Where, what and when should they make a reservation.
They are literally so whipped for you.
Nsfw
Oh~ ho ho~
I am a firm believer that these two are switches.
Hinata is a bit more submissive than Kags (for the most part), but he has his moments.
And i have this thing where Kags makes you and Hinata fuck while he watches biut votgh of you are power bottoms.
Toys toys toys
I'm talking double ended dildos and vibrators galore.
Punishments are usually for Hinata and consist of you riding Kags while he watches, and its absolute torture.
They also have nights where they have you alone and those are sweet and romantic, rose petals and candles.
It's never boring <33
“Tobio, doesn't she look so pretty?”
“God Shoyo you’ll cum in your pants if you grind like that”
“ go fuck yourself on the fucking dldo like a slut”
Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime
Sfw
There are two ways that this happened
1. You grew up with them and slowly fell in love through your life, and you all got together in highschool
Or
2. You met Oikawa in Argentina, literally fell in love at first sight, stars in your eyes. This led to him bringing you back to Japan, which led to you meeting “Iwa-chan” (who looked much more beautiful in person). After hanging out everyday for about 3 weeks Oikawa bright up the idea of sharing
And here you are!
You guys are all similar but you share personal things with each boy
With oikawa you have the obsession with aliens and you too even have a beauty routine that you do every night before bed.
With Iwaizumi you, of course, make fun of Oikawa at every waking moment. But! You also do all different kinds of exercise with him. You have a monthly yoga class and a swim aerobics program every other tuesday!
These two spoil you so much it's ridiculous.
Perfumes, jewelry, clothes and even gaming things.
They will get you anything even if you don't want it (and they are rolling in cash so it doesn't really matter.)
Nsfw
Iwaizumi rules the bedroom.
And as much as Oikawa pretends to be the top, he falls apart the second you kiss him neck.
Favorite position?
Simple. It can go two ways.
Oikawa laying on his back, Iwa fuking him into heaven and you sitting on his face OR you on your stomach ass up with Iwa between your legs and Oikawa's dick in your mouth.
The only real times Oikawa is in you is when Iwazumi wants to see both of you be pathetic sluts, or when Oikawa is being punished, mostly cockwarming while he is tied and not able to thrust in you.
Double penetration?
Your punishment.
Whine and cry all you want neither of them are slowing down, this is really the only time Oikawa is dominant in the bedroom
“Aw, Tooru, look at her! So pathetic!”
“You look like two whores trying to fuck, Harder brats”
“Oh! Iwa her throat gets tighter when you do that!”
Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendo Satori
Sfw
Oh bby how did you get so lucky?
You have the best of both worlds!
Tendo, who you can joke around and cook with.
And Ushijima, your pillar and voice of reason.
This relationship was 100% started by Tendo. No question. He saw you and decided right then and there that you were his, and what kind of best friend would he be if he didn't share with Wakatoshi!
Thank god you were willing to do this, it would have Broken Satori AND Wakatoshis heart :((
This WAS the best decision of your life.
Your first date as a threesome was so cute, it started with walking around tokyo and you stopped and ate in a small cafe. You begged them to pay and they didn't let you so this became a game to see if you could ever find a way to pay before them.(you're still failing to this day)
After the cafe they took you to a small beach that had a little volleyball net set up. Insert uwus here
They taught you how to play, the basics if you didn't already know, and you guys played around until it was 2am
All of your dates are different but they either end like that or cuddling on the couch wachting movies. OR you know ;))
Nsfw
UHHH there are two ways this could go.
You being absolutely ruined by these two. Both being pretty big, they easily overpower you.
Tendo also has the obsession with being in your ass while ushijima rips your poor pussy apart.
Sadist tendo also makes a slight appearance, not letting yu cum for hours then making you cum over and over and over again
Or
Mr. Tendo controls what you and Toshi do!
Trust me Wakatoshi is still controlling you every waking second, but having Tendo tell him what to do (being slightly unaware of what to do anyway) gets him off just as much as you.
And when he’s feeling more adventurous, Tendo has kept you and Ushijima on literal leashes at his feet while he just chilled out. (i literally love this so much-)
You guys do a lot of exploring!
“Harder Toshi, the slut can take it”
“” we don't have enough dicks to fill all your holes”
“Satori! Please!” “Shhh, floor whores don't get to talk”
Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu
My #2 pair
DAMN, i can't even put how whipped they are for you in words.
You defiantly knew Sakusa first.
You two met in the supermarket, much to his displeasure he had to shop for himself, it was the classic strangers to lovers trope
You both reached for the same countertop cleaner!
To both of your shock you touched his hand and immediately started to apologize to him (he couldn't even reply because he was so stunned by your beauty)
He snapped back and started to interrogate you about what cleaning products you use, you both didn't even realize how much time passed with you just talking about how you clean.
Eventually you exchanged numbers and texted almost all day.
This led to him texting you back every chance he had during practice breaks, but he never told you he was a professional volleyball players AND happened to be on one of the top teams in the country, (you found out when he randomly followed you on instagram)
Eventually he got sloppy and Atsumu looked at his phone and found your number! Aren't you lucky ;) almost immediately after he started to question Sakusa about you
Who is she?
Where did you meet?
Is she pretty?
Gimmie her number Omi, i wanna know her too!
Eventually Atsumu just stole his phone and started to non-stop call you.
“Uh Kiyo? This guy keeps calling me and asking me questions about you.”
“Ignore it”
It got so bad that when you officially met atsumu he had followed Sakusa to your meeting spot, and you hit it off! (much to Kiyoomi’s disdain)
After a few months, and a lot of talks, all three of you entered a relationship!
Your dynamic was great! You were clean like Sakusa and fun like Atsumu!
Perfect!
Another spoiling group, it's like they just know what you want. It doesn't even matter what you think :// no take backs :))
Plus you have girl time when they are at practice, a good time to plan surprises ;)
You even got Atsumu into skin and hair care (kiyoomi approves)
You are literally perfect (and the hottest couple in the planet)
Nsfw
Sakusa is in control.
No question.
He wants ti fuck you? Done.
He wants to watch you play with yourself. Already rubbing circles on your clit.
He wants you to ride Atsumu until you squirt? You're bouncing on Atsumu Cumming and cumming.
Believe it or not Sakusa AND Atsumu love messy blowjobs, seeing you slobber all over yourself and their cocks is the most beautiful thing to them.
Atsumu also has the dirtiest most vulgar mouth on earth, will not spare your feelings one bit.
But that doesn't even measure up to how Kiyoomi speaks to you. He has no shame is telling you that they are going to let everyone on the team fuck you senseless.
Sakusa also loves to punish you and Atsumu for literally anything, he will tie you to each other and put vibrators in your holes and just watch you two desperately grind on each other to get relief that just won't come.
(they both love to ruin your orgasm too)
“Go Whore i know you can bounce faster than that”
“Look at her Omi! Isnt she the best little cumdump? Yes you are! Yes you are!” (pls he treats you like a pet)
“Hey Miya. Wouldn't shugo just love to have her on her knees for him? I think we should let her sometime”
I would do anything for these two-
Kuroo Tetsuro and Kozume Kenma
Oh? You're the most spoiled pet in the world?
You definitely grew up together, aka you've had both of them wrapped around your finger since you were 8.
You guys probably started dating after you accidentally let it slip that you were in love with the both of them.
After you all confessed and talked for hours, you were officially dating!
Not much has changed, but they were more affectionate and loving and more physical with you.
Your dates are really random, all the varying schedule and all.
They take you to anime cafes and gaming cafes and ALL the different cafes.
They always tell you you don't have to work but you feel bad so you started a makeup channel on youtube! And of course you were a sensation!
You and Kenma make little collab videos and were voted as the cutest couple of the year!
But that doesn't1 mean you aren't involved in Kuroos life just as much!
You help him get ready every morning, he just “can't” tie his tie even after doing it since highschool.
You make him a unique bento everyday!
You even buy him little chemistry sets whenever you see that a new model was released!
Plus living with two cuddle bugs is a dream for any girl ;)
Nsfw
The way that both of them are into cockwarming-
Whenever Kenma is not streaming he wants you to sit on his cock, just be a good kitten and do it.
No worries! Between rounds he'll start to pound you for as long as he can, but it's never enough for you to cum :// too bad you'll just have to wait until he’s done, or when Kuroo some home.
With Kuroo it's usually when he is doing more work in his home office. This is pure torture.
He won’t even pay attention to you until HE wants to cum.
To add on to that neither of them are afraid of fucking you infront of people.
Kenma has no fear of keeping you at his feet while he streams so you can suck him off whenever he wants.
One time he was on a zoom call with his PR team and they had no idea you were deepthroating his cock under where the camera could see.
Kuroo is the worst with this too, he’ll start fucking you when he knows he ahs a work call in a few minutes, so in the middle of fucking he’ll just answer the phone and make you shut up :((
Both of them together? You’re fucked. (literally haha)
Kenma a bottom , 100%, just not as much as you.
Sex mostly means kuroo fucking you and sucking kenma off.
“I wonder if everyone would still follow you if they knew what a slut you are”
“Kitten you have to be quiet for Daddy now, this call is important”
“Look at that kenma, she’s cumming all over the place while drooling all over you!”
Bokuto Kotaro and Akaashi Keji
The owl nest? Yes Ma’am.
You were akaashis girlfriend first, but that meant you were practically dating Bokuto anyway.
Akaashi? He loved it, you were just so cute when you tled to Kotaro!
When he got excited, you got excited and you were just the cutest two babies in the world!
The way you would talk for hours about nonsense and laugh about the stupidest things.
Slowly but surely Akaashi braugh Bokuto into the relationship, and you had no objections!
It started with small things like movie nights that turned into sleepovers that became full dates!
Dates? Oh man you go on one almost every night!
The movies! Bookstores! Restaurants!
Even to the volleyball gym.
Sometimes Akaashi takes you to Bokuto’s games and you two just Cheer your lungs out!
This seems crazy but one time on your anniversary that took you to an owl farm!
It was probably the funnest night of your life, and that was it all three of you knew that this was how you wanted to spend the rest of your lives.
Nsfw
Bokuto might be the driving force but Akaashi is the real mastermind behind the bedroom life.
Sex mostly includs being railed by Bokuto for hours while Akaashi whispers sweet praises in your ears, telling you how good your gtaking Bokuto.
Akaashi is also a firm believer in punishing people with toys,aka Bokuto getting ahead of himself and ignoring Akaashis commands which lands him tied up and a vibrator pressed to his sild until his orgass are dry :)
Of course you are no better, cumming before your told or vene worse masterbating without permission.
That lands you with a bunny vibrator, unable to move and just watching as Akasshi fucks Bokuto with your favorite dildo :(
But if you'd just listen this would have never happened, just promise not to do it again!
“Keji please, pease, wanna cum s-so bad”
“Gee, you're just sucking him in huh? After all this time you still want more!”
“You are just the prettiest little thing huh.”
#kageyama tobio#kageyama x reader#hinata shoyo smut#hinata shoyo#kageyama smut#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x reader#ushijima smut#tendo satori#tendo smut#tendo x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa smut#sakusa x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#atsumu miya#kuroo tetsurou#kurro x reader#kuroo smut#kenma kozume#kenma x reader#kenma smut#bokuto kotaro#bokuto x reader#bokuto smut#akaashi keiji#akaashi keji x reader#akaashi x reader#akaashi smut
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Kinktober #29: Fade In: Katsuki Bakugou
On a late-night movie date, you and Bakugou have the theatre to yourselves. You take advantage.
Characters: Katsuki Bakugou / f!Reader
Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, overworked pro hero Bakugou, movie theatre (public) sex, lots of dirty talk, Bakugou’s sailor mouth
Notes: Today’s prompt was “Dirty Talk.” The premise is inspired by real-life events that are FAR more innocent than I’m making them sound. 😂 I’m enjoying writing all of these little Bakugou bits! Let me know if you want to see more of our grumpy boi after Kinktober.
Kinktober Masterlist
The city is buzzing with life, even at 10pm on a Tuesday.
You drag Bakugou out of the train station, practically hauling him up the stairs and dashing across the street in the last few seconds of a walk light. A few months ago, you’d have been amazed that he’s even holding your hand in public, but these days he’s quite happy to- even if he pouts the whole time.
It’s a warmer night for the season, so you’ve got on something cute- with a playful little skirt swishing around your bare thighs. You figure there’s no better night to push your comfort zone than one you plan to spend sitting in a dark theatre.
Comfort zone or not, you feel cute. Especially given how many glances you’ve caught Bakugou stealing at your legs.
You’re meeting this late on a weeknight because it’s the only chance that Bakugou actually has to see you. He’s been busting ass night and day at the agency lately, and he’s been pulling weekends for months. You’ve got work in the morning, but you’re so thrilled to actually go out with him you don’t mind.
It’s not like your job is particularly exciting these days, anyway.
You file into the theatre, snag a popcorn to share, and take your seats. You’re the first ones in the theatre, which doesn’t surprise you- this movie’s been out for a while, and it’s not exactly a primetime showing.
Besides, you’re early.
You catch up a little, taking handfuls of buttery popcorn. Bakugou does not like taking on the role of sidekick, but he’s way ahead of the rest of his classmates even landing a job like that at twenty-one. Still, everyone knows that sidekicks are some of the most overworked heroes in the game.
It’s not until the theatre goes dark and the previews start that you realize. Nobody else is coming.
Holy shit.
“Are we seriously the only ones in this theatre right now?” You turn to Bakugou in nervous disbelief. He gives an absent little shrug, reaching for more popcorn.
“I’ll still kick your ass if you start texting halfway through.” He shoots you a wicked smirk, stroking an indulgent palm affectionately over your thigh. You’ve still got goosebumps from the chill outside, but fresh ones race across your skin when he touches you.
It’s been a while. For both of you.
“Be honest.” His voice is gruff in your ear, cutting deeper than the noisy previews that flash across the giant screen. “You wore that skirt for me, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t wear it for anyone,” you chide. You rest your palm on top of his. His fingers curl against your thigh- and yours curl around his.
“So fuckin’ cute,” he growls. He nips at the lobe of your ear and you suppress a gasp. “Looked so naughty, stickin’ out the bottom of your jacket. Like you were walkin’ around the city with nothin’ on.”
“Stop,” you chide, heat rushing to your face. “We’re-“
“What? In public?”
Whatever witty retort you had planned dies in your throat. You’re the only ones in here. It’s dark. The doors are shut. The music is loud.
You’re not sure how long it’s actually been since they needed someone up there in the projection booth, but you’re pretty certain it’s empty.
Bakugou slips an arm around your shoulders and tugs you in close. He nuzzles the spot where your ear meets your jaw, then tilts his chin up and nibbles at the same place.
It’s getting harder to say no to him. Not that you were ever trying very hard to begin with.
You relax into his affections as the previews end and the movie itself rolls. The opening credits begin with a burst of music as you turn your head and surrender yourself to a searing kiss. Bakugou twines his fingers into your hair and tugs gently, tilting your head back for access to the bare column of your throat.
“D’you have… any idea… how long… I’ve been thinking about this,” he gasps into your skin. You try not to whimper. It doesn’t work.
Bakugou’s rough palm slides up the tender skin of your inner thigh. You part your legs just a little, encouraging him. His fingertips brush beneath the hem of your skirt. You’re already damp and heated, ready for him after what feels like a lifetime apart.
You’ve seen each other plenty over the past couple of weeks, but it was always in passing. You’d drop by the agency at lunch (and embarrass the shit out of him in the process), he’d come home to you exhausted on weeknights and pass out seconds after falling into bed. He’s so fucking overworked these days it’s a wonder he’s got any libido left at all.
You’re going to take what you can get.
“Fuck,” he snarls as his mouth trails back to your ear. “You’re wet for me already, sweetness? I knew you were into this kinda shit. So dirty, sweetheart, so fuckin’ naughty.”
“Katsuki,” you plead. He’s running his mouth especially hard tonight. It’s doing more for you than you’d care to admit.
“That’s it, baby,” he continues. “I know it makes you sloppy when I talk to you like this. C’mere, sweetness, lemme take care of you.”
He slips his arm down to your waist and drags you over the armrest into his lap. You don’t fight him, letting your thighs spread across his jeans. Immediately, he anchors one powerful arm around your waist to hold you in place, sliding his other hand between your thighs and pushing your underwear to the side.
“God,” he gasps against your shoulder as he sinks two fingers into your tight heat. “I’ve missed your pussy. I’ve missed fuckin’ you so goddamn much.” He draws his fingers back and pushes them in again, settling into a slow rhythm. You’re right there with him, rolling your hips smoothly into his touch.
He’s hard already, stiff and excited down one leg of his jeans. You felt it the second he tugged you onto his thighs, and you’re not shy about rubbing yourself against it.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “You want it? You want my cock, right here in the fuckin’ theatre? You do, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” you find yourself whining. You never used to be adventurous. Not before Katsuki came along. But he makes you wild.
He lets go of you and you lean forward a little, letting him scoot backwards to fumble with his fly. He unzips, pulling his thick cock out and hiking your skirt up. You feel it, heated and already dripping with precum, against your ass.
With one hand braced on your hip, he lifts you. You tug your underwear out of the way and hold it there. As you sink down on him, he lets his head fall back against the seat with a feral groan.
“God damn, sweetness. Fuck, you’re as fuckin’ tight as ever. So goddamn wet for me. That’s it, ride my fat fucking cock. Shit, you really know how to milk it outta me, don’t you?”
You start to rock your hips atop his, keeping the movements subtle. As you let go of your panties, your skirt flops back down around your thighs, concealing your union. Bakugou keeps one hand braced on your hip while the other roams, tugging your shirt out of the top of your skirt and slipping his palm over your chest.
“Not… gonna last long,” he warns tightly behind you.
“Me neither,” you pant. It’s been too long for both of you.
Bakugou loses patience and lifts you by the hips, planting his feet on the sticky theatre floor and rutting up into you with a sloppy slap slap slap. He pants hard into your shoulder, sucking and biting at your tender skin and growling more filth into your ear.
“That’s better. God, I really needed to fuck you, baby. Look at you. You’re gonna cum so fast on just my cock. You’ve been holdin’ out on me this whole time, huh?”
He’s right. You’re tipping your head back against his shoulder and riding out the waves of pleasure he pumps into you. He knows your body well- he can feel the way your thighs begin to tense and shake as you get ready to cum.
“Fuck, Katsuki… b-baby, I…” Your voice dies in your throat as your peak hits you, tight and silent. You dig your fingers into the fabric armrests on either side of your hips and grip him tight, descending into shivers atop him.
“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” Bakugou’s voice is beginning to break, too, but he keeps it down hard and growls softly from the depths of his chest. “Wet little pussy drippin’ out all over me. God, you’re such a mess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you up. Gonna put so much cum in your belly, sweetness. Gonna make you so messy for me. Getting so fuckin’ close, baby, oh, shit, oh g-gah…”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence either. He cums hard beneath you, intense and sudden and fast. The wet burst of him inside you is harder than you anticipated but you let him fill you. You let him fuck out the pleasure and you let him collapse, spent, into the plush chair behind him.
His jeans are a mess. Your underwear is, too. Slowly, you work your way off of him and he tucks himself back into his pants. You settle into the pleasant weight of each other. To your immense surprise, nobody finds you. Nobody discovers what you’ve done. You leave the theatre without incident and later, when he takes you home, he fucks you twice more.
The next morning, your coworker slinks eagerly up to you in the break room as you’re grabbing your first cup of bitter office-brew. You didn’t get much rest last night.
“So?” She nudges you, grinning wickedly. “What’d you think?”
“Of what?” You eye her sleepily.
She rolls her eyes. “Duh. The movie. How was it?”
“Oh.” Your brain freezes up. You panic. Think of something to say. Quick. “It was… great. Such a cute ending.”
Quite an answer, considering it was a horror movie she’d recommended yesterday.
#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo#my hero academia#kinktober#jbbkinktober2020#bakugo#mha bakugo katsuki#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#boku no hero academia#bnha fanfic#gnomewrites
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as you wish | 4
your one true love was lost in a pirate accident five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)
pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader
warnings: fluff and angst (!!), reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, mentions of death, murder threats, mentions of tourture, cursing, jin isn’t in this part much (but he will be in the next one!!), hobi is the best person ever, dungeon/imprisonment, not rlly proofread 🗿
genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au
word count: 4.2k+
a/n: second to last part oooo. sorry that this is late - exams suck :(( i hope you guys like this part!! pls leave comments/likes as they always help me improve <33
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The silence was deafening. For a while, once both sides saw each other, no one made an effort to move.
You froze by Jin’s side and gripped his arm so tightly you worried it would hurt him, but Jin paid no mind to it as he guarded you with his tall figure.
Donghae and his soldiers rested stone-faced atop their armored horses, their swords hanging idly from their waists or backs. In those few moments, the Prince had an indiscernible facial expression. His eyebrows and eyes were relaxed as if he was nonchalant about the entire situation, but his lips were pursed into a firm line that suggested otherwise.
Another testament to your unfortunate engagement: even after two years of being his “fiancee”, you had no idea how to truly read Donghae. He was terrifying in that sense — the constant unreadability of his face and deceiving tone his voice carried kept everyone around him, including you, on their toes. One word could set off the crown prince, and his power could unleash a fiery wrath that most people trembled at the thought of.
His intense gaze on you and the slight quirk in his brow when your lips quivered in fear signified that he was waiting for you to speak first. Ironically, this was the first time he had ever been so courteous as to let you talk first.
You swallowed harshly and gathered every ounce of will in you to step out from behind Seokjin’s protective body and instead guard him. Pushing his urgent hands, desperate to pull you behind him again, away, you straightened your stance. With a clear and steady voice, you said, “If you promise not to hurt Seokjin, I’ll go with you.”
Donghae smiled terrifyingly at you, ready to unleash the venom of his lips. “You speak and bargain like you have a choice to go with me or not.”
Your eyes met his sharp ones. “You may think that you have the upper hand, Donghae,” you paused, taking a fleeting glance back at Jin, “but I promise you that you will regret every day you spend walking on this planet if you hurt Seokjin.”
The crown prince scoffed and turned to face the soldier next to him. “My bride seems to care an awful lot about another man, doesn’t she?” He turned towards you as he spoke the last two words.
It was your turn to scoff in disbelief. You didn’t even think about the words as they escaped you. “Don’t act like there was ever love in this wretched communion.”
Donghae’s eyes darkened as he absorbed your words. He felt the gaze of his soldiers, who were watching the tense interaction, burning on him. “Fine. Seokjin,” Donghae spit the name bitterly, “leaves freely, and you come with me.”
In one swift move, he kicked the side of his horse, advanced towards you and Seokjin, and tugged you to the side of the tall horse.
“Y/N, no!” Jin cried, instantly drawing his sword. The surrounding soldiers did the same, and the harsh sound of the molded steel brushing against their metal sheaths unsettled you.
“Jin, stop!” Your feet move and your arm extends in an attempt to reach him, but you’re quickly wrenched back by Donghae. “Please!” you shout, your eyes meeting his in a panic as the soldiers circled him, their swords pointed right at him.
The look that you shared told several sentences at once; a connected gaze of pure desperation. You begged him silently, begged him to give up before you lost him and he lost you for good. With great sadness, he understood.
“As you wish,” he whispered, voice barely audible to you, and dropped his arm to his side, his sword swaying uselessly by his legs.
Your eyes teared up when he averted his gaze from you. You desperately wished to reach out to him, to comfort him by saying you could run away with him. But Donghae’s firm hold on you prevented you from doing either.
“Drop him off at the next town over; I don’t want to see him in the capital city.” Donghae’s command was sharp, and amidst your teary sadness you missed the sly glint in his eye as he ordered his soldiers.
You gasped when Donghae harshly tugged you up and behind him on top of the horse. Jin turned at the noise, and you exchanged one last melancholy gaze before Donghae kicked the horse and quickly trotted away. Tears escaped your eyes as Jin’s figure grew smaller and smaller. Only one thing comforted you in this solemn moment: Jin was safe — alive and safe.
“You’ve had an adventurous past few days haven’t you?” Donghae asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “Anything you wish to share?”
You kept your face away from him and remained silent.
“Does my bride not wish to speak to me?”
He laughed dryly at your quietness. “You’ll speak to me whether you like it or not come Friday.”
Your brows furrowed at his words. If you counted the days correctly, then today was currently Tuesday. What did Donghae have planned that would make you talk to him within a few days?
He observed your confused facial expression before continuing, “My father passed away the night of your disappearance.” Your face dropped and you turned to face him. He scoffed and shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, you weren’t of importance to him. He finally succumbed to his illness.”
Your face screwed together at his apathetic behavior.
“Which means, my coronation and our wedding have been advanced. We are to be wed on Friday.”
All color drained from your face and your mouth dried. The shock temporarily halted your ability to breathe, and you found yourself barely listening as Donghae went on.
“I expect perfect behavior from this moment on, understood?”
You looked away from him — another attempt to show your dismay. But it was no use as his hand instantly raised and roughly gripped your face as he turned your head to face him. “I asked, do you understand?” His voice was low and threatening, and you were sure that if he held onto your face any longer, it would leave a mark.
Your teary eyes quivered. “Yes,” you mustered out.
Your return to the castle was not a glamorous affair.
Donghae ordered the guards to escort you to your room and the maids to give you a bath and get rid of the “stench of another man”. You followed his words obediently, every inch of your body seeped in exhaustion and dejection. It wasn’t until after your hour-long bath and the maids finally left your suite when you were finally able to close your eyes and rest.
Unfortunately, your rest was short lived. A few moments after you laid down and just before you fully submitted to the god of sleep, a heavy knock rang in your room. You groaned and hoped that whoever it was would go away if you didn’t answer, but they only continued knocking.
With great reluctance, you pulled yourself out of bed and opened the heavy doors. Instantly, the disgruntled frown on your face was replaced with a shocked smile.
“Hobi!”
“Y/N!” he greeted back with comforting enthusiasm. Quickly, he pulled you into a hug, but the shock of seeing him again prevented you from immediately responding. “Are you not happy to see me?” he asked with a wary voice as he pulled away, frowning at your still body.
You shook your head. “No - no, I am! It’s just…” your voice trailed off as you inspected his face, which hadn’t changed at all even after two long years. “It’s been so long,” you finished softly.
“Too long; I’m sorry,” he replied gently, taking his hands into yours.
“Don’t apologize.” You smiled at him and gestured for him to enter your room and sit. “Why have you returned to the castle?” you asked once he sat down next to you at the edge of your bed.
“I’ve resumed my old post — well, my old post with a new duty of protecting you,” he answered simply, and the intense focus he had on keeping a straight face immediately told you that his response was a lie.
“You have? Why?” you challenged, crossing your arms.
“Boredom?” he replied weakly. You rolled your eyes at his dishonest response. You knew that Hobi, who was the only son of a powerful lord and had a loving partner at his lavish home, would not return to this castle as the Head Castle Guard out of boredom.
“No one in their right mind would return to this castle for fun.”
He sighed and grabbed your hands gently as he looked into your eyes. “I was worried about you, and it seems I had full reason to be.” You looked down with a flushed face as he continued, “When I first arrived yesterday morning, I was informed that you’d gone missing! At first I thought, good for you, because you were always miserable here, but then the stablekeeper insisted that you’d been taken — kidnapped!” His facial expression conveyed pure alarm, and you instantly felt guilty for worrying your friend, even if it wasn’t your fault.
Hobi’s face relaxed and he brought his arms tightly around you. “But it’s ok now. I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered. You felt the vibrations of his words as your head rested against his chest, and the comforting feeling of his hands rubbing your back like a parent would to a child brought tears to your eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he felt your upper body starting to shake. He quickly released you and held your shoulders to look at your face. “Have I upset you?”
“No, not at all,” you started, trying your best to gather yourself and wipe away your flowing tears. He waited patiently for you to continue, only whispering “it’s alright” and “take your time” when you choked on your words.
Finally, after a few minutes, you calmed down. And so, everything spilled out of your mouth. You easily confided in Hobi, who was your only friend when you first arrived at the castle and whose sudden departure after a few months left you even lonelier, and told him everything that had happened the past few days. You talked about the three thugs and how they took you, your reunion with Seokjin and how you almost escaped, and how you had to marry Donghae in just a few days.
Like a good friend, Hobi listened to everything you had to say. He didn’t judge or interject — just listened. And when you finished your long recount of your journey, he comforted you. With his comforting arms wrapped around yours, his soft hands wiping away your tears, and his encouraging murmurs, you finally felt alright for the first time since you’ve reentered the castle.
“I know you were kidnapped,” Hobi started with a humorous smile on his face, “but it seems like you’re more upset about returning.”
You laughed at the irony of the situation. “I was scared at first, but,” you paused, reflecting back to the eccentric thugs you met and your true love, “they — Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin — weren’t that bad. Honestly, I kinda miss them.” You paused again to take a deep breath, bracing yourself to say his name. “And Seokjin… I miss him terribly, but I’m just relieved that he’s safe… It might be wishful thinking, but maybe we can be together again one day.”
“Don’t lose hope, Y/N,” Hobi said reassuringly as he brought you into another tight hug. “You’ll get your happy ending.”
Much to your relief, Hobi was still at your side even as you awoke the next morning. He made sure to dismiss the other guards, who obediently listened to his order as his subordinates, and take your breakfast from the maids so you could have your much-needed space.
“Make sure to eat, you need to keep your energy up,” he scolded you when he noticed that you barely touched the fruits and pastries he piled onto your plate.
You sighed and shoved a strawberry in your mouth to appease him, mumbling as you chewed, “It’s too early and I’m too sad to have an appetite.”
He tutted. “You’re not skipping meals on my watch.”
“You’re too kind to me, Hobi,” you said after swallowing another bite of your toast.
“Only the best for my closest friend,” he responded with a shining smile.
After breakfast, you changed into a day dress and went on a walk around the castle grounds with Hobi. Your unexpected departure from your quarters (and the rare smile on your face) shocked the castle staff members. It was probably the first time you smiled since Hobi left the castle and his post.
Hobi had a miraculous way of brightening everything (and almost everyone) he touched. His infectious smile, heartwarming laugh, and gentle movements were once — and now again — the highlights of your day. Even now, as you coped with the loss of Seokjin and your upcoming marriage, he managed to put a smile on your face.
“Just my thought, but,” you started, a friendly smile on your face as you walked through the colorful gardens with your right arm looped around Hobi’s, “I’m sure that Yoongi would be more than happy to accept a proposal and marry you by now. It’s been, what, nearly three years now since you started courting him?”
The tips of Hobi’s ears burned red as he shook his head. “I still fear that he isn’t ready, and that if I ask too soon it will ruin what we have now,” he admitted honestly.
You sighed and gestured for him to stop walking. He listened, and you took your hands into his and looked up into his shining brown eyes. “Hobi, you are one of the best people I know. Anyone would be lucky to have you, and if you’re really worried about Yoongi not being ready, then talk to him. I haven’t met him, but he seems like he wouldn’t get upset if you ask.”
“He wouldn’t,” Hobi responded quickly, the speed of his words causing his face to flush red as you looked at him with a smirk. “You’re right,” he said after a few moments while resuming the walk.
The two of you continued your walk into noon, during which you ate a small lunch together, and the early evening. Within a few hours, your friendship was the talk of the castle staff. You tried to ignore the glances that a few servants gave you and the growing feeling of dread in your stomach when you returned to your suite and noticed that instead of your lady’s maids waiting outside, Donghae’s personal guard was.
You walked cautiously towards your open door and stiffened when you entered the room, immediately noticing Donghae sitting on the edge of your bed. This was the third time he’s ever entered your suite, and you didn’t anticipate it would be better than his previous visits.
Silently, you walked past him and sat down in front of your vanity. You remained quiet as you removed your jewelry, waiting for him to speak first.
“Why am I hearing whispers that my bride is in an adulterous relationship with her personal guard?” His voice was harsh, and you distracted yourself from flinching by picking up your tub of facial cream.
You eyed Donghae through your vanity mirror, carefully observing his scornful face. “Hobi? Don’t be ridiculous,” you quickly responded and placed your face cream down. Your heart beat faster as you saw Donghae advance towards you from the corner of your eye.
His hand gripped your shoulder firmly. “Ridiculous? I told you I expected perfect behavior. Prancing around with your guard is far from that.”
You turned to face him with a solemn expression. “Hobi is a friend — a friend. I don’t expect you to understand considering you have no idea what friendship even is.”
The prince’s lip curled into a snarl. “Shut up!” he shouted, the volume of his words causing you to flinch in your seat. Donghae turned away from you towards the guard at your door, commanding menacingly, “Get rid of him.”
Your heart dropped and you instantly stood, the heavy stool under you dragging loudly against the stone floor. “No! Don’t you dare!”
“And who are you to stop me?” he snarled.
Your hands balled up by your sides, and you couldn’t contain your anger as you responded, “You can do many things to me - you have done much to me - but I will not let you harm the one person in this castle who has truly tried to be my friend and did nothing but try to make me happy.”
Donghae laughed dryly. “Happy? Do you truly believe you deserve the right to be happy?”
You clenched your hands even tighter, feeling as if you were about to break your own skin, and your voice lowered to a threatening whisper. “If you even think about harming Hobi, I will end you myself, Donghae. I have nothing to lose.”
“You said the same thing about Seokjin,” Donghae replied with a smug smirk, his words causing your face to fall in confusion. “And I still beat you.”
“Wh-what?” you stuttered, a feeling of pure terror seeping through every inch of your body. You couldn’t forgive yourself if Jin was hurt — the mere thought alone brought warm tears to your eyes.
Donghae didn’t respond; instead, he turned back to his guard and pointed at you. “Take her to the dungeons, maybe a few days will knock sense into her ungrateful mind.”
“What have you done to Jin?” you cried, your voice shaky with desperation. You shouted as his guard grabbed your hands and harshly pulled them together behind your back. “Donghae, I’m talking to you!” you screamed at his retreating figure. “Shim Donghae!”
The cruel prince turned the corner and walked away, the sound of his heavy footsteps growing quieter as he walked down the hallway. You waited until the thump of his steps fully disappeared before turning to face the guard.
“I assume you’re not kind enough to let me go,” you mumbled weakly.
He remained stone-faced, and you sighed in mild disappointment. His expression morphed into confusion when you muttered a quiet apology, and his face twisted once your foot made harsh contact with his shin.
You took advantage of his distracted state and twisted your body so your knee could meet his crotch. He doubled over in pain, and you easily slipped out of his grip. Watching his sluggish movements carefully, you reached over for the empty vase on your vanity and, in one swift movement, knocked it over his head.
The guard’s body fell limply onto the ground, and you wasted no time in placing the cracked, bloodied vase back onto the table and running out of your room.
Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you darted through the long halls and down the stairs. “Please, please, please,” you whispered repeatedly towards yourself as you pushed yourself to run faster.
Finally, after what felt like minutes of running, you reached the floor Hobi’s suite was on. You turned the corner towards his chambers, ignoring the ugly ripping sound your dress made as your feet stumbled, and desperately reached to push open his door.
“Hobi! Hobi! Hurry! You have to leave!” you announced between breathy pants as you staggered into his room.
“What?” He stood up immediately, alarmed by your urgency as you pulled him towards his window. Luckily, Hobi’s quarters was on the first floor and towards the front of the castle, allowing him a relatively easy escape if he moved fast enough.
“I - there’s no time to explain!” you cried, pulling his window open. “Don’t gather your belongings! You must leave now!”
“Why?” he asked, grabbing your frantic hands and holding them securely in an attempt to calm you down. But it was no use as you shook them off and continued to push him towards the window.
“Donghae’s out for you! He can’t harm you when you’re in your own home! Please go now!” you explained rapidly, praying that you wouldn’t hear the familiar sound of heavy feet running down the hall towards the room.
Hobi’s face fell. “If he’s out for me then he’s out for you,” he noted softly. In another non-life-threatening situation, you may have found his selflessness endearing, but right now, you wanted nothing more than for him to leave safely.
“Please… leave. I won’t let you get hurt.” Your voice was reduced to a quiet, frantic whisper. “You have a family.”
Hobi shook his head and squeezed your hand. “Go with me! I can protect you!”
The idea was tempting, but your thoughts immediately returned back to Donghae’s cryptic words about Seokjin, and you instantly knew that leaving with Hobi wouldn’t be the right option. “I can’t. There’s something I must confirm.”
Hobi’s face faltered, and you knew he wanted to argue more, but urgency began to flow through his veins when a distant shout rang through the castle. Both of you knew then that he was running out of time.
Hobi wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you reassuringly, whispering, “I’ll come back for you, please stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.”
“I promise,” you responded, but you both heard the uncertainty behind your words.
With that, he pulled back and gave you one last look, your teary eyes meeting his. You knew it was difficult for him to leave you at a time like this, but both of you understood that this was for the best.
Quickly, Hobi slipped out through the window, and you could barely see his dark shadow as he ran away from the castle and towards the open gates. You watched from the open window, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw him easily walk through the gates and towards the bustling town.
Only a few seconds later, the distinguishable sound of footsteps pounding against the floor rang from the hall. Closing your eyes to brace yourself, you sat underneath the window and waited for the guards to storm in.
Their steps grew louder, and you mentally counted down the time.
3...2...1
The door burst open, and you kept your eyes shut as the soldiers entered.
“Where is -”
“He’s gone,” you answered abruptly, your eyes still shut. “By now, Hobi will be safe at home with Lord Jung and Viscount Min.”
“Prince Donghae ordered us to-”
Your eyes flew open in anger. “I don’t care what Donghae has ordered you to do. Everyone knows that no one, even the royal family, can’t touch Lord Jung and his family.”
The front guard’s jaw clenched in anger, and you could see the frustration building in his eyes.
Despite the anxious nerves bubbling in your stomach, you continued to provoke the guard. “Isn’t it frustrating?” you asked with feigned innocence. “When things don’t turn out the way you want.” You laughed bitterly. “Did you really think I would just stand still?”
The guard walked towards you and aggressively pulled you up, not wasting any time to tie your hands behind your back. “You’re going to regret your foolish actions,” he muttered darkly as he harshly tugged you out of the room with him, the other guards following closely behind you.
You laughed emptily. “I regret nothing.”
“Enjoy your time rotting here, bitch.”
You whimpered as the guard roughly shoved your body into the dark dungeon cell. Stumbling to regain your footing since your hands were bound, you cursed as you heard the metal gate closed and locked behind you.
Once you were fully upright, you whirled around and walked to the steel bars, placing your hands on them before declaring, “I would like to speak with Donghae.”
The guard in front of you scoffed. “Prince Donghae is occupied this evening.”
“I don’t care,” you uttered. “Tell him I must see him now.” You slipped your arm through the bars in an attempt to grab him, but the guard spun around and moved out of the way before you could touch him. You grumbled as he started to walk away. “Don’t you dare walk away!” you screamed. “What have you done with Seokjin?”
The guard halted in his steps before turning back to face you with a menacing smirk. “Trust me, Princess, your lover is having anything but fun as we speak.”
At his words, you felt your heart drop and your head spin. A cold, suffocating sensation spread across your chest as your knees buckled underneath you. Hot, angry tears rolled down your face while you clutched your knees to your chest.
Your head throbbed as you thought of Jin and what they could be putting him through. Donghae’s torture tactics were not unbeknownst to you, and you often cringed in horror when you overheard him talking about them. It was one of the things about the Prince that truly made you question if he was really a human.
As you shut your eyes, you could see and hear Jin screaming in pain. Hurt and betrayal swam in his teary eyes — a stinging reminder that this was your fault. How could you have been so foolish to think that Donghae would really let Jin go freely?
“Oh, Jin,” you cried quietly with your head down. Your chest heaved as sobs started to wrack your body. “Please… please be ok,” you begged softly.
#kim seokjin#kim seokjin x reader#seokjin#bts fanfic#bts seokjin#bts fanfiction#bts x reader#seokjin fanfic#seokjin imagine#kim seokjin x y/n#kim seokjin x you#seokjin fluff#seokjin angst#bts angst#bts fluff#min yoongi#Jung HoSeok#bts fairy tale au#bts
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Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3
Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?
Read on AO3.
Chapter 3 (4753 words)
Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.
Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.
Another point for Sebastian.
Damn.
He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…
Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy.
Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too.
Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him.
He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.
Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”
But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that.
It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives.
Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit.
That may sound harsh, but it's true.
The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie.
But he's not the least bit inspired.
He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy.
He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls.
Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.
The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately.
The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure.
Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing.
Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.
He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.
He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.
Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head.
Currently, he has only one.
The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man.
Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.
The room or the infidelity.
But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?
Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.
"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."
The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.
He sighs.
Revenge-dreaming isn't helping.
It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.
He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.
The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.
Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.
He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.
Especially not today.
Today did not start out good for Kurt.
Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder.
His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.
He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.
It confuses him.
It angers him.
It saddens him.
It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.
But this is his house. He has to get used to it.
These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.
It's their unpredictability that is the true torture.
They show up even on his good days.
His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was.
As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together.
That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time.
When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.
Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life.
And not just her life.
His, too.
In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated.
Things flipped drastically when she died.
He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy.
He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.
He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.
But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her.
There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes.
He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered.
An hour later, he was on his third one.
The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.
He felt alive again.
Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.
“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”
The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.
“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.
Also, Grace’s wake.
She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.
And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated.
Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”
Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”
It took Kurt a second.
Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.
When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.
But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.
He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.
Not without his Grace.
He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.
Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.
In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday.
As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure.
12:45.
He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.
Still Tuesday.
Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation.
But he's numb.
Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.
He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.
Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill.
An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…
Kurt stops.
Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels?
Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.
The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.
Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he?
Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.
Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.
Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word.
He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.
But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.
Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.
“Lunch is ready.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.
“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”
Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?”
It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.
“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”
Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.
Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.
“Sebastian?”
Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?”
“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen.
Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside.
Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.
The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.
Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.
“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”
“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”
“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it.
Thank God.
His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself.
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”
Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.
Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.
“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer.
And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.
Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.
Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not.
“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly.
“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2.
Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.
He leaves that mystery for another day.
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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.
Interview with Syntax6
Syntax6 has 17 stories at Gossamer, but you should visit her website for the complete collection of her fics and to see the cover art that comes with many of the stories (and to find her pro writing!). She's written some of the most beloved casefiles in the fandom. I've recced literally all of them here before. Twice. Big thanks to Syntax6 for doing this interview.
Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?
I’m delighted but not surprised because I’ve written and read fanfic for shows even older than XF. Also, I joined the XF fandom relatively late, at the end of 1999, so there were already hundreds of “classic” fics out there, stories that were theoretically superseded or dated by canon developments that came after them, but which nonetheless remained compelling in their own right. That is the beauty of fanfic: it is inspired by its original creators but not bound by them. It’s a world of “what if” and each story gets to run in a new direction, irrespective of the canon and all the other stories spinning off in their own universes. In this way, fanfic becomes almost timeless.
What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?
(I feel these are similar, at least for me, so I will combine them here.)
First and foremost, I found friends. There was a table full of XF fanfic writers at my wedding. Bugs was my maid of honor. I still talk to someone from XF fandom pretty much every day. Lysandra, Maybe Amanda, Michelle Kiefer, bugs…these are just some of the people who’ve been part of my life for half my existence now. Sometimes I get to have dinner with Audrey Roget or Anjou or MCA. Deb Wells and Sarah Ellen Parsons are part of my pro fic beta team. I have a similar list from the Hunter fandom, terrific people who have enriched my life in numerous ways and I am honored to count as friends.
Second, I learned a lot about writing during my years in XF fandom. I grew up there. Part of this growth experience was simply due to practice. I wrote about 1.2 million words of XF fanfic, which is the equivalent of 15 novels. I made mistakes and learned from them. But another essential part of learning is absorbing different kinds of well-told tales, and XF had these in spades. Some stories were funny. Others were lyrical. Some were short pieces with nary a word wasted while others were sprawling epics that took you on an adventure. The neat thing about XF is that it has space for many different kinds of stories, from hard-core sci-fi to historical romance. You can watch other authors executing these varied pieces and learn from them. You can form critique groups and ask for betas and get direct feedback on how to improve. It’s collaborative and fun, and this can’t be underestimated, generally supportive. The underlying shared love of the original product means that everyone comes into your work predisposed to enjoy it. I am grateful for all the encouragement and the critiques I received over my years in fandom.
Finally, I think a valuable lesson for writers that you can find in fandom, but not in your local author critique group, is how to handle yourself when your work goes public. Not everyone is going to like your work and they will make sure you know it. Some people will like it maybe too much, to the point where they cross boundaries. Learning to disengage yourself from public reaction to your work is a difficult but crucial aspect of being a writer. You control the story. You can’t control reaction to it. It’s frustrating at first, perhaps, but in the end, it’s freeing.
Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?
I participated in ATXC, the Haven message boards, and the Scullyfic mailing list/news group. For a number of years, I also ran a fic discussion group with bugs called The Why Incision.
What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?
I started reading XF fanfic before I began watching the show. I had watched one season two episode (Soft Light) and then seen bits and pieces of a few others from season four. I’d seen Fight the Future. Basically, I’d seen enough to know which one was Mulder and which one was Scully, and which one believed in aliens. An acquaintance linked me to a rec site for XF fanfic (Gertie’s, maybe?) so that I could see how fic was formatted for the web. I clicked a fic, I think it was one by Lydia Bower dealing with Scully’s cancer arc, and basically did not stop reading. Soon I was printing off 300K of fic to take home with me each night. I could not believe the level of talent in the fandom, and that there were so many excellent writers just giving away their works for free. I wanted to play in this sandbox, too, so I started renting the VHS tapes to catch up on old episodes (see, I am An Old). After a few months, I began writing my own stuff.
What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?
I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to The X-Files. I’m not a sci-fi person by nature. I think my main objection is that, when done poorly, it feels lazy to me. Who did the thing? A ghost! Maybe an alien? I guess we’ll never know. You can always just shrug and play some spooky music and the “truth will always be out there…” somewhere beyond the story in front of you. You never have to commit to any kind of truth because you can invent some magical power or new kind of alien to change the story. I think, by the bitter end, the XF had devolved into this kind of storytelling. The mytharc made no kind of sense even in its own universe. But for years the XF achieved the best aspects of sci-fi storytelling—narrative flexibility and an apotheosis of our current fears dressed up as a super entertaining yarn.
What eventually sold me on the XF as a show is all of the smart storytelling and the sheer amount of ideas contained within its run. At its best, it’s a brilliant show. You have mediations on good versus evil, the role of government in a free society, is there a God, are we alone in the universe, and what are the elements that make us who we are? If Mulder and Morris Fletcher switch bodies, how do we know it’s really “them”? The tonal shifts from week to week were clever and engaging. For Vince Gilligan, truth was always found in fellow human beings. For Darin Morgan, humans were the biggest monster of all. The show was big enough to contain both these premises, and indeed, was stronger for it. The deep questions, the character quirks, the unsolved mysteries and all that went unsaid in the Mulder-Scully relationship left so much room for fanfic writers to do their own work. As such, the fandom attracted and continues to attract both dabbling writers and those who are serious craftspeople. People who like the mystery and those who like the sci-fi angle. Scientists and true believers. Like the show, it’s big enough for all.
What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?
I look at it like an old friend I catch up with once in a while. We’ve been close for so long that there’s no awkwardness—we just get each other! I love seeing people post screen shots and commentary, and I think it’s wonderful that so many writers are still inventing new adventures for Mulder and Scully. That is how the characters live on, and indeed how any of us lives on, through the stories that others tell about us.
Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?
I ran the Hunter fandom for about five years, mostly because when I poked my head back in, I found the person in change was a bully who’d shut down everything due to her own waning interest. A person would try to start a topic for discussion, and she’d say, “We’ve already covered that.” Well, yes, in a 30-year-old show, there’s not a lot of new ground…
Most other shows, Hunter included, have smaller fandoms and thus don’t attract the depth of fan talent. I don’t just mean fanfic writers. I mean those who do visual art, fan vids, critiques, etc. The XF fandom has all these in droves, which makes it a rare and special place. But all fandoms have the particular joy of geeking out over favorite scenes and reveling in the meeting of shared minds. It will always look odd to those not contained within it, which brings me to the part of modern fandom I find somewhat uncomfortable…the creators are often in fan-space.
In Hunter, the female lead joins fan groups and participates. This is more common now in the age of social media, where writers, producers, actors, etc., are on the same platforms as the rest of us. Fan and creator interaction used to be highly circumscribed: fans wrote letters and maybe received a signed headshot in return. There were cons where show runners gave panels and took questions from the audience. You could stand in line to meet your favorite star. Now, you can @ your favorite star on Twitter, message her on Facebook or follow him on Instagram. In some ways, this is so fun! In other ways, it blurs in the lines in ways that make me uncomfortable. I think it’s rude, for example, if a fan were to go on a star’s social media and post fanfic there or say, “I thought the episode you wrote was terrible.” But what if it’s fan space and the actor is sitting right there, watching you? Is it rude to post fanfic in front of her, especially if she says it makes her uncomfortable? Is it mean to tell a writer his episode sucked right to his face?
Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?
I own the first seven seasons on DVD and will pull them out from time to time to rewatch old faves. I’ve shown a few episodes over the spring and summer to my ten-year-old daughter, and it’s been fun to see the series through her eyes. We’ve mostly opted for the comedic episodes because there’s enough going on in the real world to give her nightmares. Her favorite so far is Je Souhaite.
Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?
I don’t have much bandwidth to read fanfic these days. My job as a mystery/thriller author means I have to keep up with the market so I do most of my reading there right now. I also beta read for some pro-fic friends and betaing a novel will keep you busy.
Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?
I read so much back in the day that this answer could go on for pages. Alas, it also hasn’t changed much over the past fifteen years because I haven’t read much since then. But, as we’re talking Golden Oldies today, here are a bunch:
All the Mulders, by Alloway
I find this short story both hilarious and haunting. Scully embraces her power in the upside down post-apocalyptic world.
Strangers and the Strange Dead, by Kipler
Taut prose and an intriguing 3rd party POV make this story a winner, and that’s before the kicker of an ending, which presaged 1013’s.
Cellphone, by Marasmus
Talk about your killer twists! Also one of the cleverest titles coming or going.
Arizona Highways, by Fialka
I think this is one of the best-crafted stories to come out of the XF. It’s majestic in scope, full of complex literary structure and theme, and yet the plot moves like a runaway freight train. Both the Mulder and Scully characterizations are handled with tender care.
So, We Kissed, by Alelou
What I love about this one is how it grounds Mulder and Scully in the ordinary. Mulder’s terrible secret doesn’t involve a UFO or some CSM-conspiracy. Scully goes to therapy that actually looks like therapy. I guess what I’m saying is that I utterly believe this version of M & S in addition to just enjoying reading about them.
Sore Luck at the Luxor, by Anubis
Hot, funny, atmospheric. What’s not to love?
Black Hole Season, by Penumbra
Nobody does wordsmithing like Penumbra. I use her in arguments with professional writers when they try to tell me that adverbs and adjectives MUST GO. Just gorgeous, sly, insightful prose.
The Dreaming Sea, by Revely
This one reads like a fairytale in all the best ways. Revely creates such loving, beautiful worlds for M & S to live in, and I wish they could stay there always.
Malus Genius, by Plausible Deniability and MaybeAmanda
Funny and fun, with great original characters, a sly casefile and some clear-eyed musings on the perils of getting older. This one resonates more and more the older I get. ;)
Riding the Whirlpool, by Pufferdeux
I look this one up periodically to prove to people that it exists. Scully gets off on a washing machine while Mulder helps. Yet it’s in character? And kinda works? This one has to be read to be believed.
Bone of Contention (part 1, part 2), by Michelle Kiefer and Kel
People used to tell me all the time that casefiles are super easy to write while the poetic vignette is hard. Well, I can’t say which is harder but there much fewer well-done casefiles in the fandom than there are poetic vignettes. This is one of the great ones.
Antidote, by Rachel Howard
A fic that manages to be both hot and cold as it imagines Mulder and Scully trying to stay alive in the frosty wilderness while a deadly virus is on the loose. This is an ooooold fic that holds up impressively well given everything that followed it!
Falling Down in Four Acts, by Anubis
Anubis was actually a bunch of different writers sharing a single author name. This particular one paints an angry, vivid world for Our Heroes and their compatriots. There is no happy ending here, but I read this once and it stayed with me forever.
The Opposite of Impulse, by Maria Nicole
A sweet slice of life on a sunny day. When I imagine a gentler universe for Mulder and Scully, this is the kind of place I’d put them.
What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?
Bait and Switch is probably the most sophisticated and tightly plotted. It was late in my fanfic “career” and so it shows the benefits to all that learning. My favorite varies a lot, but I’ll say Universal Invariants because that one was nothing but fun.
Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?
I never say never! I don’t have any oldies sitting around, though. Everything I wrote, I posted.
Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?
I write casefiles…er, I mean mysteries, under my own name now, Joanna Schaffhausen. My main series with Reed and Ellery consists of a male-female crime solving team, so I get a little bit of my XF kick that way. Their first book, The Vanishing Season, started its life as an XF fanfic back in the day. I had to rewrite it from the ground up to get it published, but if you know both stories, you can spot the similarities.
Where do you get ideas for stories?
The answer any writer will tell you is “everywhere.” Ideas are cheap and they’re all around us—on the news, on the subway, in conversations with friends, from Twitter memes, on a walk through the woods. My mysteries are often rooted in true crime, often more than one of them.
Each idea is like a strand of colored thread, and you have to braid them together into a coherent story. This is the tricky part, determining which threads belong in which story. If the ideas enhance one another or if they just create an ugly tangent.
Mostly, though, stories begin by asking “what if?” What if Scully’s boyfriend Ethan had never been cut from the pilot? What if Scully had moved to Utah after Fight the Future? What if the Lone Gunmen financed their toys by writing a successful comic book starring a thinly veiled Mulder and Scully?
Growing up, I had a sweet old lady for a neighbor. Her name was Doris and she gave me coffee ice cream while we watched Wheel of Fortune together. Every time there was a snow storm, the snow melted in her backyard in a such way that suggested she had numerous bodies buried out there. How’s that for a “what if?”
What's the story behind your pen name?
I’ve had a few of them and honestly can’t tell you where they came from, it’s been so long ago. The “6” part of syntax6 is because I joke that 6 is my lucky number. In eighth grade, my algebra teacher would go around the room in order, asking each student their answer to the previous night’s homework problems. I realized quickly that I didn’t have to do all the problems, just the fifteenth one because my desk was 15th on her list. This worked well until the day she decided to call on kids in random order. When she got to me and asked me the answer to the problem I had not done, I just invented something on the spot. “Uh…six?”
Her: “You mean 0.6, don’t you?”
Me, nodding vigorously: “YES, I DO.”
Her: “Very good. Moving on…”
Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?
My close friends and family have always known, and reactions have varied from mild befuddlement to enthusiastic support. My father voted in the Spookies one year, and you can believe he read the nominated stories before casting his vote. I think the most common reaction was: Why are you doing this for free? Why aren’t you trying to be a paid writer?
Well, having done both now, I can tell you that each kind of writing brings its own rewards. Fanfic is freeing because there is no pressure to make money from it. You can take risks and try new things and not have to worry if it fits into your business plan.
(Posted by Lilydale on September 15, 2020)
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Emma and Killian :|: CSMM
This is my last submission for the @captainswanmoviemarathon
Thanks to everyone in the Discord for letting me bounce ideas and for all the help.
Thanks to @revanmeetra87 who helped me write the thing. She kinda tricked me, she knows what I’m talking about. Still love her. :)
Thanks to @ultraluckycatnd for Beta services :)
The story is inspired by Kate and Leopold, it will not be an exact retell of the movie. I hope you guys enjoy reading it.
FFN
AO3
Will a man out of time be the happy ending of a cynical woman that doesn’t believe in fairytales? Could they take the leap together?
“I’m not sleepy Papa, tell me a story,” the girl urges with big fluttering eyes, begging.
The man looks lovingly at the young girl and smiles as he shakes his head. He starts telling her an unlikely love tale.
:|:
Killian Jones was walking through the growing city looking on as everyone went about their daily business. The noise of the Brooklyn Bridge construction was deafening. He missed life out on the open sea, but this was his life now. While looking out at the sea, he noticed a man that appeared to be following him. He stopped at a small haberdashery shop and noticed the same man from earlier was there too. This had to be a coincidence. Before he could think about it any further, the clock tower chimed; it was time to go home. Liam was going to be in a dreadful mood if he was late. Bloody parties. His brother had stopped being his older brother; he now acted like his keeper.
“Killian, you are the Duke of Albany, you need to dress better. You also need to find a wife. Brother, appearances matter.”
Brennan Jones had quickly gone through the inheritance their mother had left behind, a worthless title was all their father had left them. Once the money was gone, so was he. Liam had retired from the Royal Navy to become Killian’s guardian, even if he was old enough to not require one. He had been in the Navy himself, after all. His brother should worry more about finding himself a wife and not have to alter his life because his little brother had become a blemish on the family name. Milah had been more than a dalliance; he had loved her and she had used him. Once the affair was revealed, she played the victim; the young virile man seduced the older bored wife with stories of great adventures. So then it was decided to make the move for a fresh start.
The party had started by the time he got there, and anyone who was anyone was there. Smee, his manservant, helped him get ready for the evening. Sometime later that night, Liam pulled him aside and told him to find a wife. There were wealthy women lined up for him to choose from, but Killian’s response was simple. “Brother, I don’t want to marry for money. Marriage is the promise of eternal love. As a man of honor, I cannot promise eternity when my heart isn’t true.”
As Killian walked off, an unknown guest caught his eye. It was the man from earlier. He was walking around with some sort of strange device. With his curiosity piqued, Killian followed the strange man as he explored room to room. The man got spooked when he noticed Killian following him around. He ran out of the party and fled to the street. As Killian trailed behind, his attention was momentarily thwarted by a vision with fair skin and golden hair. After she passed, his attention snapped back to his original target.
Killian ran after him, yelling for him to “Stop!!”
The man kept running, not bothering to turn back. It seemed that his destination was the Brooklyn Bridge. The other man neared the end of the girder, as Killian jumped in an effort to stop the man from falling to his death. As he grabbed hold of the man’s hand, the other man screamed “Let go!” Killian shook his head. “No, you will die if I let go!” The other man tried to pull his hand out of Killian’s grip and finally succeeded, but Killian desperately grabbed a hold of the man with his other hand, losing his tenuous grip on the rope he had been holding on to, and they both fell into the unknown.
Wednesday
Killian woke up in an unfamiliar place. Was it all a dream ? His eyes focused on the strange surroundings. He jolted up. Where the bloody hell is he ?
A loud ringing startled him. The man he followed into the abyss emerged from a closed door.
“You really shouldn’t have followed me,” the man said as he studied Killian.
The ringing started again but this time, the man picked up an object. “Hello, oh, Emma. No, I haven’t seen your IPad. What? Yes. I’m sure you didn’t leave it here.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it will turn up.”
Killian just sat, staring at him.
“Sorry about that. I can’t believe it. You are here.”
“You obviously know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”
“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Jefferson. Your great-great-grandson,” he smiled.
“I’m not even married,” Killian scoffed. “Let’s say I believe you. Why kidnap me? We don’t have any money, there’s no ransom money.”
Jefferson scrunched his face. “What? No, you’re not kidnapped.” He sighed. “You followed me through the portal and it closed behind us. So you have to stay put.”
Killian looked around. “Where the bloody hell am I? You say I’m not kidnapped, but you want me to stay put?”
“Look, I’m not holding you against your will. It’s for your safety. You are still in New York, but things have changed. New York is not as safe as it once was,” Jefferson said.
Killian got up and walked to the window, as he shook his head. “That is not New York.” He turned his back to the window and headed towards the sofa.
A feminine voice startled them. “Yeah, that’s good old New York alright.” She smiled as she entered the room, closing the window behind her.
Killian stared at the woman. “Have I seen you before?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed at the newcomer as Jefferson grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s find that iPad. Killian, I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said.
Killian sat down on the sofa still a little disoriented, his eyes continuing to follow the lass as she left the room. He knows he has seen her somewhere, but is utterly confused about where that was.
Emma and Jefferson arrived at his small office to look for the IPad. “I told you to take care of it when you asked to borrow it,” she sighed.
He rolled his eyes. “I took care of it just fine. It was just for two days while I got my laptop back from the repair guy. I thought I gave it back to you.”
“No, you didn’t. Damn it, Jeff, I need it back!” she glared at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find it,” he said with a big smile on his face.
“Okay,” she turned to him, “why are you so excited?”
“I did it! Emma, I really did it!”
“You did what Jeff?”
“I found it. The portal, a crack in the fabric of time. I traveled back in time and walked around in 1876.” He waggled his eyebrows in unison. “That’s not the best part; my great-great-grandfather followed me.“ The crazed glee was unable to stay hidden from his face.
Emma pursed her lips. “So what you are saying is that you found a portal and I’m to believe that the man out there is not Sergeant Pepper but a man out of time?”
“Emma, I told you about him. He is the Duke of Albany. He is a brilliant engineer; he invented the counterweight pulley. You know, the elevator?”
“And that’s him out there?” Emma stated sarcastically. “Right. Jeff, if you’re trying to create a distraction from my missing iPad, there are more believable ways to do it.”
“I’m serious!” he protested.
Emma glared, placing her hands on her hips. “No. You’re never serious. That’s the problem! Your head’s always 5,000 miles away in Wonderland.”
“Emma-”
A soft tap on the door interrupted Jefferson.
“Pardon me,” said Killian, hovering in the doorway. “Might I be of help?”
“Yeah,” Emma replied. “Tell your pal Jeff to stop messing with me.”
“‘Messing’...with you? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” said Killian, perplexed.
“Oh, right.” Emma rolled her eyes. “How could I forget the whole ‘man out of time’ thing. How about this: Tell Jefferson to stop insulting my intelligence.”
As they spoke, Jefferson was digging through his desk. “Found it!” he yelped, holding the iPad aloft. “Found it. You can go, Emma.”
Emma grabbed it and walked out before slamming the door shut, effectively waking up the slumbering apricot mastiff. The startled dog’s barking was loud and constant, creating madness as she ran around the room.
Jefferson cringed, “Cat shut up!”
While Jefferson kept trying to tame the beast, Killian stared at the door.
After a few treat bribes and belly rubs, Jefferson finally broke Killian’s enchantment. “I’m sorry about her.”
“Who is she? I feel like I’ve seen her before.” Killian’s eye was still set on the door.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but women have changed since your time. They are dangerous.” Jefferson walked to the front door and locked it.
Killian kept his steely-eyes on Jefferson. “You say I’m not kidnapped, yet you lock the door.”
Jefferson laughed. “I’m protecting you. New York is not the same as it was. I can’t let you go out there.”
Killian glared at him.
Cat scratched at the door urgently.
“Look, man, your clothes make you look like you’re some Renaissance Faire crazed fanatic. I can tell you’re kind of antsy. I will get you home, but the portal closed. My backup is for next Tuesday. We can discuss this more, but I really need to take Cat for her walk,” Jefferson said as the dog barked.
Killian sighed; there was not much he could do.
“While I’m out, I was wondering if you could look over these.” Jefferson handed Killian some notebooks.
Killian grabbed them and sat down.
“I shouldn’t be gone long. Don’t open the door for anyone,” Jefferson said as he secured Cat’s leash. The door closed behind them, and then there was a click.
Jefferson and Cat were waiting for the elevator. He heard the ding and once the door opened, he took a step in, but Cat hesitated and he realized only too late why. He fell into the empty elevator shaft as the door closed behind him. He was still holding onto the leash as he attempted to pull himself up. A frightened Cat whimpering above managed to get out of her collar. Jefferson was unaware the sealed elevator door was the only thing preventing him from falling to his possible death. “Good girl, Cat stay, don’t move.” He tried again to pull himself up but failed as he lost his grip and fell, only to land on top of the elevator a couple of floors below.
Meanwhile, Killian was exploring the apartment. He was in awe of all the different appliances. He was washing his face when a knock on the door suddenly startled him. As he neared the door, it burst open, revealing the fiery blonde from before.
“Jeff!!!! Hey, you renaissance man, where is he? He forgot my charger and you can’t just kick Cat outside. She unloaded Lake Erie out there.”
“I have not, milady. Jeff stepped outside with her.”
“Fine, let’s go. I have enough time to stop for a replacement charger. I said let’s go!” she said, rolling her eyes as she handed him Cat’s leash.
He stammered and did as instructed as they walked out of the apartment building. Killian held on to Cat. “Lass, I take it you’re a career woman. I once courted a librarian in Sussex,” he smiled.
She stared at him askance. “Did you, now.”
“Indeed I did, I…” He trailed off as he began to suspect she wasn’t taking their conversation seriously. “Librarian is a fine avocation for a lady; what is yours? Please forgive me if I’m being too forward,” Killian decided to say instead.
“I’m in market research,” she said, which explained very little to him.
At his undoubtedly confused look, she continued. “I figure out what customers like and don’t like about products.”
“Ahh,” he said, nodding. “Very valuable research, indeed.”
“Yeah, well, thankfully my boss thinks so too. Speaking of, I am already running late. If I want to get my charger, I have to go now. Wait...give these to Jefferson when you see him. I am sick of getting his mail.” Reaching into her bag, she withdrew some envelopes. “See you.” With another swish of her blonde hair, she was gone.
Killian admired the no-nonsense blonde; there was something about her that called to him. She wasn’t like any of the women he had met in his life, and not just because she was a career woman. He was not afraid of that. He had a feeling she was going to be a challenge, and he does love a good challenge.
In a slight daze, Killian watched her turn the corner and continue out of sight. Was everyone in this city constantly on the move?
Cat, who had been crouched and snuffling at the street, suddenly shook herself vigorously, and Killian looked down at her.
It is then he noticed the pungent droppings she had left beside him. Wrinkling his nose with distaste, he decided to move on. After all, it would likely be indistinguishable from the horse manure every city had.
Though, come to think of it, he hasn’t really seen any horses. Or street manure. Just the noisy, swift carriages that seem to move of their own will.
“Excuse me!” a voice called over the general din.
He turned to see a female constable looking at him irritably - but surely he was imagining her annoyance. What could he possibly have done to invoke her attention?
“Sir, aren’t you going to pick that up!?” The frown lines were evident on the face of the woman.
Killian stared at the woman. “I refuse, respectfully.” He gave her a charming smile.
The woman mocked him and smiled back. “It’s against the law to leave the poop there. I repeat, are you picking that up or not?”
“I’m sorry, you’re saying there’s a law that forces gentlemen to pick up canine feces?” he grimaced.
“Yes, there is. Are you picking up the poop or not?” the lady cop urged.
“I refuse, respectfully.” He clicked his feet together.
“Alright, what’s your name fancy pants?”
“My name is Killian Brendan Rowe Conor Gordon Philip Jones.”
The woman rolled her eyes, then spotted the envelopes he was holding and grabbed one. With a wicked smile, she said, “Here, Jefferson Hatter.” She handed him a paper and walked away.
Killian turned to Cat as she wiggled her tail, and suddenly darted in the opposite direction. He jerked behind her. The city flashed before him, and they ended up in front of the completed Brooklyn Bridge. Killian was in awe that the structure still stood. The sound of the fire brigade caught Cat’s attention and she followed, with a stunned Killian trailing behind. They end up back in front of the apartment building as Jefferson was on an apparatus to move him to be taken to the hospital. Cat whimpered next to Killian.
“Killian, what are you doing outside? Get back inside. I’ll be back soon.”
“Jefferson, I saw the bridge and -”
“I know you’re excited but you cannot go out again.” Jefferson said as he was put inside the ambulance.
Killian looked at Cat and they went inside.
After leaving Killian, Emma bought the charger and headed to work. Today, they were screening a movie to see how people were going to welcome the film. Her assistant, Mary Margaret, handed out a form for the people to fill out. The movie finished to a disappointing reception. The conclusion after reading the audience's responses was that the character was unlikeable, so they needed to cut a big scene in order for the movie to do well. The director was upset about the change and told them that they were sucking the life out of cinema.
Back at the office, they were now focused on casting for a low-fat margarine commercial. The focus group was not liking the actors that were reading for the part. Yet another dead end. They needed to fill the part soon. “Mary Margaret, we are going to have to do another casting.”
Mary Margaret smiled, “I’m on it. So, I was thinking about what you said.”
Emma looked confusedly at her assistant.
“You said that I should be more proactive and not be caught up in my dreams if I want to be successful. So, in an effort to be more efficient, I was wondering if you wanted me to get some food for your brother’s return. He is set to return tomorrow.” A slight blush on her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Emma.
Emma raised an eyebrow because she had a feeling Mary Margaret had a crush on her brother. The only reason she gave her assistant a speech was because Mary Margaret was always giving her lectures about love and hope. Fairy tales aren’t real; at least when it came to Emma’s life they aren’t.
Mary Margaret continued with the list of things that need to be taken care of. “Oh, and Mr. Oz wants to see you.”
“Mary Margaret, you should have started with that! I didn’t know he was back. Is he in his office?”
“I think so. I can call and check,” Mary Margaret said.
Emma met with Mr. Oz and he told her that they should discuss the possibility of her promotion during dinner the next day. Her boss always seemed to come on a little strong for her taste and because she was an adult, she would suck it up. As soon as she reached her office, Mary Margaret grabbed her attention.
“Emma, Mr. Oz is calling an emergency meeting to discuss the Farmer’s Bounty account,” Mary Margaret shared.
“Oh, well that’s not going as well as we had hoped. I really wish I had better news for him.” Emma sighed. “I hope we find someone in the casting call tomorrow.”
The meeting went by quickly and afterward, all Emma could recall about it was the moment she spilled cocoa all over the front of her shirt. She just hoped it was not a bad omen for the next day’s auditions.
Back inside Jefferson’s apartment, Killian busied himself with some scientific books he had found on the shelf. Although the terminologies inside were difficult for him to understand, he was still able to grasp most of the overall concepts. How much humanity had advanced!
And yet, how much was still the same. The modern New Yorkers’ lives seemed to be fraught with just as many challenges and concerns as his own.
Such as Emma. Though she is clearly a woman of talent and accomplishment - her career would attest to that - she moved and spoke with a strain and pace quite unfamiliar to his own world.
Yet the more he thought of her, the more he realised he was quite interested in trying to keep up.
Killian dropped his book, startled, when he heard a loud ringing pierce the apartment.
The ringing repeated several times, and then a shrill beep squawked before he suddenly heard Jefferson’s voice speak.
“Killian? Hey, Killian, this is Jefferson. I am speaking over a machine, okay? I need you to pick up the telephone so we can talk. It’s the...lift the curved white part of the machine okay? The part that disconnects from the rest.”
Fumbling, Killian followed the instructions, nearly dropping the device. But he could hear Jefferson’s voice, now coming from the holes on one end of the machine he held.
Excited and proud of his accomplishment, Killian began talking back. “Jefferson? Is this Bell's talking telegraph? I saw a prototype at last year’s fair. Can you hear me? I saw the bridge! It still exists!”
“Killian, I know you’re excited, but you have to stay inside the apartment. I should be home tonight. They’re taking me to X-Rays,” Jefferson says before howling in pain and the call disconnecting.
“Hello?” Killian asked and was met with silence. “Bloody hell.”
The sound of the TV alerted him; he was no longer alone. Killian stepped slowly to the living area and found a young boy.
“Hello, lad,” Killian said. “May I be of assistance?”
The boy tilted his head. “You are not Jefferson. I usually come and watch TV with him until my dad picks me up. Do you want some Pirate Booty?” The boy offered the treat.
Killian scratched behind his ear and smiled.
Meanwhile, one floor below arriving early from actor camp, David Nolan entered his shared apartment with his sister. A loud voice coming from Jefferson’s place piqued his curiosity and he went to check it out.
“But one day, he lowered the Jolly Roger and set sail in search of another kind of treasure. Not money, not jewels, not gold… but a bride. Despite his being a ruffian of the brine, fearless in his plunder and merciless with the sword, the Pirate King was also lonely.”
The boy was mesmerized.
“My boy, I was fortunate enough to see the premiere last month.”
“Since when is Penzance showing?” David asks.
Killian quirked an eyebrow. “Since when is it acceptable to enter a domicile without an invitation?”
David laughed and took in the old fashioned wardrobe. “Oh, you’re an actor too? I’m David Nolan, I live downstairs.”
Emma was finally home; what a day. She was so tired that she almost missed noticing a duffle bag on the floor. That meant her brother arrived early. “David!” She was about to go to his room when the phone rang. “Hello, Jeff. Wait, you’re in the hospital? Uhm, yeah I know he got out. I made him walk Cat. What film? No, I’m not going to babysit a full-grown man. One, may I add, that you claim is from 1876.” With that, she hung up.
Once she hung up, she heard someone singing. She noticed the open window, which was the preferred way to go to and from Jefferson’s. She went to see what was going on.
The boisterous voices were singing the lyrics of some old ditty. She cleared her throat in an effort to get their attention and when that failed, she whistled.
Killian stopped playing the piano. Roland’s eyes went wide. David smiled wide.
“Hey, sis,” David said as he walked to hug her. “I missed you. Hey, what’s going on with the elevator?”
“I should have known you’d find your way here. You always do,” she said. “Aren’t you early?”
“I am. Some Tai Chi lady wanted to jab her fingers in my-” David managed to stop himself when he remembered the young boy in the room.
Roland smiled. “Hello, Miss Emma. I’m just waiting for my dad.”
“Hi, Roland.” She smiled back. “Your dad is still working the late shift.”
The boy shrugged. “It won't last. Uncle Will is moving here to work with him.”
“Good. I know you like hanging out with Jeff, but too much TV is bad for you.”
Roland giggled and turned to sit down on the couch to continue his television viewing.
Killian was silently staring at her.
“Oh, Emma, I invited Killian over for dinner since Jefferson isn’t here.”
“What about Roland?”
“Robin called and said he was already on his way.”
“Meet me at home,” Emma said as she simply waved to a silent Killian. “We’ll talk about it at home.”
David turned to Killian. “Hey, dinner is in two hours. Bye, Roland.”
Roland waved to David then leaned towards Killian. “I don’t think she likes you.”
As soon as they enter their shared apartment, David started. “Come on Emma, he’s alone.”
“He thinks he is from 1876, he is clearly crazy,” Emma pointed out.
“He is an actor!” David defended Killian.
Emma had started cooking spaghetti while David made the garlic bread.
“Emma, why are you so rude to Killian?”
“David, what are you talking about? I’m perfectly civil to him. I’m just annoyed at Jefferson, and his craziness. It doesn’t matter, I don’t have time. I might be getting a promotion. A really good one, and I’m just frustrated. This could be really good for us.”
“Oh, that’s great Emma!” David said.
Before he could say anything else, the phone started ringing. “David, can you get that?” Emma asked.
“Ems, just let the machine answer it,” David said as he put the bread in the oven.
Jefferson’s voice was frantic. “Emma, I know you don’t believe me, but just develop the film on my desk. It’s right next to the phone. If Killian doesn’t go back, the elevators will be just the beginning.” The call disconnected.
David whistled. “Jeff is still at it then.”
“David, set up the table since it was your idea to invite Jeff’s friend over.”
“Okay,” David said amiably.
Soon, supper was on the table, and just as they were about to sit, there was a knock on the door.
Emma opened it to see Killian standing there, holding flowers. “Hello. Thank you again for the invitation. I hope I am not late; the flower proprietor refused my coins and insisted they were too old and must be fake. Fake, indeed! Yet he takes the absurd little blue card with Jefferson’s name as real payment?”
Emma lifted a brow as she received the flowers. “Yeah, fancy that. Well, thanks and all, but you didn't have to go to the trouble. Come in, we just finished cooking.”
“Hey, hi Killian!” David called cheerfully.
Digging in a cabinet, Emma found a vase and filled it with water before placing the flowers in it. They did look nice, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. Whoever the weird guy was, he had taste.
They all sat down and, after passing the food around and loading their plates, Killian spoke up.
“You know, before young Roland arrived, I was examining some of Jefferson’s books and research. It is quite impressive! Did either of you ever read it yourself?”
Twirling some spaghetti on her fork, Emma hid a grimace. “Unfortunately.” She wasn’t going to pretend Jefferson wasn’t a brilliant man. But some of his theories were so ludicrous, she couldn’t understand how someone so smart could re-read some of his own work and not realize how impossible it was.
Killian either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her quip. “Specifically, I am referring to the time portals.”
Oh, boy. Here we go, Emma thought.
“The portals work rather like an eclipse, you see. They only occur at specific intervals; in the case of the one I travelled through, once every twenty years.”
As Killian was talking, Emma could see David nodding and grinning excitedly.
It irritated her so much that she gave David a warning glare before he could ask any follow-up questions.
Setting down his silverware beside his now empty plate, Killian lifted his chin and glanced toward the oven. “Well. That was delicious. I am quite ready for the next course.”
The thin cord by which she’d been reining in her temper finally snapped. “There is no next course,” she hissed.
Clearly puzzled, Killian tilted his head. “But I do not understand. Where I come from, a meal is a result of reflection and study. Menus are prepared in advance and timed to perfection. And without the culinary arts, the crudeness of reality would be unbearable.”
YOU are unbearable! she wanted to scream, though she didn’t know at that moment if she was angry with him, or at Jefferson for bringing him to the apartment, or at David for inviting him to dinner. Or at her own lingering fears at what tomorrow and her job would hold.
“You know what?” Emma asked through her teeth. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“I’m sorry, Killian. Emma had a little too much wine,” David apologized.
“It’s alright. Thank you for the lovely meal. Goodnight,” Killian said with a small smile.
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