#we have taken the concept “the more the merrier” and run with it

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #17

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Play of Color

Shaved ice.

A summer that everyone, from kids to adults, knew about. But how to say this in English? I’d never been taught that. Could I even say it to begin with?

The beautiful man responded clearly to my offhand doubts, “‘Shaved ice’. Other options such as ‘ice frost’ and ‘snow cone’ also go into the category, but if you are to to regard the context of ‘ice that was shaved’ as important, then I believe ‘shaved ice’ is appropriate.”

“I see, so it’s a direct translation for ‘ice that’s been shaved’. Got it... A-Aaah! Didn’t you put too much syrup? Ah—”

“I will add more ice.”

A rattling sound echoed through the jewelry shop, where there was nobody but the shopkeeper and his employee. Sitting on the tabletop was an ice shaving machine. As one would expect, we couldn’t commit the barbarianism of placing it directly on a glass table, so three cloths were stacked under the machine’s legs. It wasn’t the manual and nostalgic type but an electric one.

A customer had come over with a paper bag from a famous home appliances mass retailer and bought a glittering yellow diamond that they had reserved, but on this occasion, they ended up forgetting the bag from the electronics retail store. The shopkeeper immediately noticed it and contacted them by phone, but they were in the Narita Express, going straight to Bali for vacation. Apparently, they would only be coming back in the beginning of autumn. What luxury.

The customer who was heading to the southern island had casually said, “You can use it if you’d like—actually, please use it and tell me how it went”, then bid goodbye to Richard with a lighthearted voice and hung up. Inside the paper bag was a brand-new ice shaving machine. It also came with small syrup bags. Seven types of them. The mango, ramune, cola, lime and peach ones were a shock to me, as lived in a world of strawberry, melon and lemon ones. So people could enjoy even things like the pleasure of actually visiting stalls at home nowadays?

That was how we decided to choose at our own discretion a time on the following day when there were no reservations, and began holding a shaved ice party for just the two of us. However, when I said in a joking tone that I honestly never thought we’d really get to be the first ones to use something that a customer had forgotten, Mr. Richard Ranashinghe de Vulpian sighed grievously.

“After what happened yesterday, he contacted me to inform that he had arrived in Bali. He posted on social media, ‘I forgot my ice shaving machine, so I asked an acquaintance to try it out. I’m looking forward to it’, so it seems we need to take a video of the shaved ice as fast as possible. Think of this as also a kind of service.”

“There’s all sorts of jobs out there these days.”

Marketing that introduced new products on social media wasn’t something uncommon these days. But I heard that this sort of business was strict about many things, such as obligations and deadlines, so it might be serious stuff in its own way. I thought up until this point, but then my head whispered, “No, hold on” to me. If this was really the case, then bringing along an ice shaving machine immediately before going to Bali didn’t make any sense. Could it be...?

“Did that person leave this here on purpose? It’s clearly something that you can’t bring into an airplane and would get in the way during the trip.”

“That is possible. But it is not something for a single jeweler to judge. There is a possibility that they thought they would be able to enjoy shaved ice at a beach resort but were mistaken, and are now feeling down. Oh... oh, mgh...”

“Ah, the ice turned into water. Didn’t you put a tad too much syrup?”

“Nonsense. From the market price, it is obvious that the more syrup, the merrier.”

“You told that wholesaler who came to buy a ring with lots of decorative diamonds the other day that ‘more doesn’t equal better’, though.”

“Those are two different things,” he said in an eloquent, beautiful Japanese that sounded like it had been cut and trimmed, at which I prostrated myself with a “hahaa”.

Despite the force in his eyes being certain, he seemed to be having trouble putting an appropriate amount of syrup. When he put an abundant amount of the mango, ramune, cola, lime and peach ones all together, the ski slope-like white canvas turned into a color that looked like that of Shinjuku’s gutters during a downpour. Richard would surely call this shade of gray “smoky quartz” or something like that. The fluffy pile of ice was gone, leaving a sleet – or just plain water – in the glass bowl. It would’ve been fine if he had added them little by little, but on second thought, I was thinking this way because I was Japanese, so I was used to the way we added shaved ice syrup to some extent.

As the jeweler, not discouraged, put his bowl under the ice shaving machine, pressed the button and added more ice with crunchy noises, I called out to him, “Hey. Can you lend me that for a bit?”

“I do not mind.”

I took the bowl of water in my hands, adding the syrups of each type little by little. I felt like the jeweler was staring fixedly at me, like, “You’ll only use that tiny little bit of them? Seriously?” but I ignored him. As they said, the last drop makes the cup run over.

The result was...

“Tadaaah.”

A snowy mountain had changed its form into a richly colored shaved ice. I thought it was pretty good, if I could say so myself.

His eyelashes fluttering as he blinked for a moment, the gorgeous jeweler whispered, “Hoo. Excellent. Beautiful.”

“Well, being told that by someone who’s like an incarnation of the concept of beauty is flattering.”

“Ahem. Anyway, this color is extremely tasteful. It bears a close remembrance to ammolite.”

“‘Ammo... nite’?”

“Not ‘ni’, ‘li’. ‘Ammolite’. Ammolite is a gemstone that derivates from living creatures, of which the components obtain an iridescent effect during the many years of fossilization.” Saying this, Richard opened a video on his phone and handed it over to me. I exchanged it for the bowl of shaved ice as if it were an assembly-line system.

What appeared on-screen was a cross-section view of the ammonite. It was split vertically like a CT image taken at a hospital. The contents were a rainbow-colored stone that sparkled brightly. A gradation of red, green and yellow. It changed depending on what angle you looked at it. A while ago, when I heard about the opal, it was revealed to me that this kind of effect was called “play of color”. Still, to think that the inside of a shell could go through such a transition. There was too much depth to the things that happened in nature, and they were immeasurable.

“So can this be called... a stone too...?”

“This would be something that happened about forty years ago, but it was classified as a ‘gemstone’ by the Gemological Society of America. Of course, I do not think it should be pushed through, even if the costumer themselves happen to say that ‘this is a fossil’.”

It apparently depended on how you thought of it. Thinking back, this applied even to the general idea of gemstones.

I flicked the phone’s screen, head-over-heels for the prism-like shells that showed up one after another. Some people used them as pendants or brooches by processing the glittering part with gold.

“How pretty. Hey, do we also have ammolites here in Etrang... eh?”

“There is a possibility that we will one day. Something the matter?”

The beautiful jeweler had been scooping the shaved ice with a tiny spoon and eating it. He wasn’t eating it in a rushed way at all, but half of the iceberg was already gone. With perfect moderation, so that the proportion of the colors of the syrups that I had added one by one wouldn’t crumble.

“D-Did you like it that much?”

“I have never eaten shaved ice at Japanese stalls. Having a frozen desert in a refreshing place like this has a nostalgic air to it.”

He had never waged shaved ice at a stall. Did that mean he had eaten shaved ice at some fashionable shop? Probably not, I thought. A normal Japanese person wouldn’t eat shaved ice at that pace. The reason went without saying. This pace was – how should I put it? – dangerous.

“Richard, hey, listen well. Shaved ice is—”

“Why are you coming close?”

“I’m telling you something important. You have to eat shaved ice at a high pace.”

“But why are you shortening the distance between us? You are too close.”

“Don’t get hung up on minor stuff. More importantly, you already ate a lot of this shaved ice, right? Aren’t you tired of it? I can eat the rest.”

“It is terribly disconcerting to hear this from the father of this work of art, but I do not see any reason for that whatsoever, thus I humbly decline.”

“Aah! Don’t gulp it down! I said don’t gulp it down!”

“I am not. I do not eat that way.”

“Like I said, that’s not what I’m talking about...”

“It is impolite for me to eat by myself. Hurry and make yours to eat as well.”

“Whatever happens got nothing to do with me...”

Glancing backwards at the jeweler as he gave me an aloof nod, I began making my own shaved ice.

Later on, after Richard pleased the customer by sending them pictures of the shaved ice, he reported back to me. He probably reported because the pictures he had sent to the customer was of the shaved ice that I had made for myself, on which the colors were scattered in the form of a whirlwind. I smiled back, replying that I was glad, and not saying anything else. I also didn’t tell him that, by the time he remembered we had to do a photo shoot of it, the beautiful jeweler was making a face that looked like a boy having a worrisome migraine due to some anguish towards the meaning of life and death.

Summer was not yet over. We also didn’t know yet whether or not the customer in Bali would come to retrieve the ice shaving machine. Etranger wasn’t that big, so Richard was probably troubled that it was left there. But if they didn’t come to get it, I might be able to enjoy eating shaved ice with Richard in the summer every year for a while, I thought. And each of these times, I’d be sure to make a shiny mountain of ice in the colors of a rainbow, just like an ammolite. Just like the sparkly smile that Richard showed, I thought that it’d be great if such a summer came around and was looking forward to it.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

[ericsonclan]

A Part of the Family

Summary: The Everetts are getting ready for Christmas and Louis gets to tag along for some holiday fun.

Word Count: 2539

Read on A03:

“New stockings! New stockings!” AJ chanted, bouncing happily in the backseat of Clementine’s car. The boy had been crestfallen when Lee had opened up a box of holiday decorations only to find that water had seeped in and wrecked most of them, their stockings included. But once it had been announced that new stockings would be bought, he immediately brightened up, excited by the opportunity to decorate his own stocking and also the possibility of an even bigger stocking than before.

Clementine and Louis shared a knowing smile as they looked back at the boy and then at each other. Louis had been at the house to help the Everetts with decorating for Christmas when the damaged box was discovered. So after the lights had all been strung round the house and the Christmas tree decorated, he’d tagged along with Clementine and A.J. on their quest to get new stockings.

Pulling into the parking lot, Clementine looked towards their neighborhood Target. “Doesn’t look too busy. I think the cold is keeping people away,”

“That and people are probably procrastinating till the last second when it comes to buying gifts,” Louis noted.

Clementine chuckled at the slight tone of judgment within Louis’ voice. He took his gift giving very seriously. All his gifts had been bought back in November, but additional gifts were constantly being added to the pile as he spotted more “perfect” presents that he simply couldn’t pass up. The boy was lucky he came from money, otherwise he’d bankrupt himself each Christmas.

Hopping out of the car, the trio walked hand in hand, A.J. swinging Louis’ and Clementine’s arms back and forth as he scampered along between them. Once they had cleared a patch of ice, Clementine and Louis lifted their arms and swung A.J. back and forth between them, joining his excited laughter with their own. Stepping through the entrance, they all let out a breath of relief as the warmth hit them.

“There’s a shopping cart!” A.J. cried, running forth excitedly and grabbing the first cart he spotted.

“Remember, goofball, we’re just here for the stockings, not anything else,” Clementine cautioned.

“Well, if we see something really awesome then maybe I could pick it up for you…” Louis offered before pausing when he saw Clementine raise an eyebrow. She’d already given him a talk about the half dozen early Christmas presents he’d given A.J. and how he was setting unrealistic expectations for Christmas day. Giving a sheepish grin, Louis clammed up and settled for holding his girlfriend’s hand while she picked up a red shopping basket with the other.

Going down the Christmas aisles at Target, the trio soon reached an aisle that was completely covered with stockings on one side. There were plenty of different pre-made designs that ranged from snowmen to reindeer to snowflakes, but Clementine strode past of all of them and grabbed four blank red stockings.

“Four?” Louis asked curiously.

“Of course. There’s one for you too,”

Louis blushed happily at that, a flustered smile crossing his face.

A.J.’s eyes bugged out at the news. “Does that mean Louis is spending Christmas morning with us so he gets to open his stocking in the morning too?”

Clementine shook her head. “Sorry, kiddo, but I bet Louis wants to spend Christmas with his own family-” she paused when she caught Louis looking at the floor. “Aren’t you?”

“Well, my dad’s gonna be out of the country Christmas day closing a business deal in Japan and my mom’s celebrating Christmas with her husband and Phil so I just mailed them their gifts ahead of time. I usually crash Marlon’s Christmas since his parents don’t mind but he might actually be spending most of the day with Sophie now that they’re dating. And Violet is going on a road trip with Prisha so…”

“Louis, if you want to spend Christmas morning with us, all you have to do is ask,” Clementine said, a smile crossing her lips. “We would love to have you,”

“Really?” Louis’ eyes widened in excitement. I mean if Lee doesn’t mind-”

“He won’t. If anything, he’ll be just as excited as A.J. is,” Clementine glanced down at her little brother who was practically buzzing with excitement.

“Well then, if everybody wants it… I’d love to spend Christmas with you guys,” Louis’ smile grew at his statement.

“Yeah! Louis is coming for Christmas! This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!” A.J. declared, wrapping his arms round Louis’ waist in a tight hug. Louis affectionally patted A.J.’s afro as Clementine looked on happily. It warmed her heart to see how taken A.J. was with Louis.  A few months into their relationship and it already felt like he was part of the family,”

“Well then,” Louis cleared his throat before nodding towards the basket. “Are we ready to check out?”

“We should probably pick up a few other things first. Glitter glue, puff paint, cotton balls, stuff like that,”

“Then away we go to the craft aisle!” Louis pointed his finger dramatically and began to stride off until he paused and looked back. “Do either of you know where the craft aisle is?”

Clementine rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Follow me, you two,”

 ---

About a half hour later they were back home. Lee, who had been busy in the kitchen while they’d been gone, greeted them at the door with a smile, his red apron dusted with flour as well as his hands. “Welcome back, you three. There’s hot cocoa on the table if you want to set up there,”

“Thanks, Lee. Ooh, is that cookies I smell?” Clementine asked, taking off her coat and setting it on the rack by the door.

“Yup. Sugar cookies – your favorite. Dusted them with red and green sprinkles and everything,”

“COOKIES!” A.J. shouted, booking it toward the kitchen.

“Only two to start out with, son, then we’ll see if you can handle more from there!” Lee called. He turned back to the couple with a smile, shaking his head. “That boy’s got me feeling my age. All I want to do is settle down with my hot coca by the tree but here he is tearing through the house like he hasn’t already been doing that all day,”

“He’ll refocus when we get the stocking supplies out. Louis?” Clementine looked back at her boyfriend who held up the bag of supplies.

“Got em right here,”

“Great. We’ll lay everything out on the kitchen table so we can get started while we snack,”

Bringing the supplies into the kitchen, they all worked together to clear off spots for each person to have their own workstation with space for their hot cocoa and plate of cookies as well. After a few minutes dedicated to eating their winter goodies they opened up the supplies and each person began to strategize on how they would decorate their personal stocking.

“I’m doing Disco Broccoli!” A.J. declared loudly, grabbing the red and green puff paint. “But I’m putting him in a Santa suit!”

“That sounds great, kiddo,” Lee replied with a smile. He had taken the brown paint and was beginning to lay it copiously across his stocking. Clementine eyed his choice of color warily.

“What are you making over there. A yule log?”

“Oh, I guess it sort of looks like that now, huh? No, I’m trying to recreate the crossing of the Delaware. Figure it’d be the perfect choice since it happened on Christmas Day. It may be a bit ambitious considering my skills, but I’m sure I’ll get by,”

Clementine shook her head, smiling. Her father’s love of American history really did make its way into every facet of life. Grabbing another tube of red puff paint, she began to write her name neatly atop the border of her stocking. Looking over, she saw that Louis was watching her closely, a tube of green puff paint in his hands. Slowly and delicately, he began to write his own name upon his stocking just as she had done with hers.

“Glad you could join us, Louis,” Lee commented, smiling over at the young man with approval.

“It’s an honor to be here, sir,” Louis replied, a shy smile on his face.

“Just call me Lee, son. You know that by now,”

Louis nodded quickly, his eyes falling back upon his work. It was clear that being around Lee sometimes still overwhelmed him. Clementine figured it was because he felt he had so much to prove. But in her eyes, he’d already proved himself already and she knew that Lee for the most part felt the same way. Clearing her throat, she decided to announce what had been decided on the shopping outing.

“A.J. and I invited Louis to spend Christmas morning with us,”

Louis’ eyes shot over to Clementine’s and then to her father, clearly nervous. But Lee’s reaction made it immediately clear his fear was unfounded.

“That sounds wonderful. There’s always room for another round the Christmas tree. I guess we’ll be keeping your stocking at our house then, right, Louis?”

“Yes, sir. Lee! Yes, Lee,”

Lee smiled encouragingly. “I��m sure our Christmas will be all the merrier with you there,” His approval seemed to set Louis’ mind at ease. The boy’s shoulders relaxed, and he returned to working on his stocking with a calmer focus than he’d had before.

As time progressed their stockings truly started to take form. Clementine was going for a classic look with a Christmas tree upon her stocking. The tree had always been one of her favorite parts of Christmas: picking it out, setting it up, decorating and basking in the glow of the Christmas lights. There had been many years without that after the death of her parents, but Lee had brought back the joy of welcoming in Christmas in full force. The Everetts always went big with their Christmas tree, getting at least an eight footer and decking it out with so many ornaments it was a wonder the branches didn’t collapse under their weight.

“Wow, Clem, that looks awesome!” A.J. commented, his eyes practically sparkling in admiration. His own stocking was smeared with all sorts of paints and spurts of glitter now, but if you squinted you could make out the concept of Disco Broccoli within the chaos.

“Thanks, goofball. Yours is looking really groovy too,” Clementine grinned when A.J. beamed at that description. Thanks to Disco Broccoli, he’d been calling everything he liked “groovy”. Glancing across the table at Lee’s stocking, Clementine tried to stifle a chuckle but only half succeeded.

Lee raised an eyebrow as he heard the sound, smiling over at his daughter. “What? Are you not impressed with my rendition of Crossing the Delaware thus far?” He held up his stocking so they all could see his work, leading to tittering laughter all around.

“It looks like poos with Christmas hats on!” A.J. chortled at the sight.

“Now I don’t think it’s that bad,” Lee protested, glancing back at his work. Sure you can’t really make out who anyone is considering they’re all stick figures and it sorta looks more like they’re floating on a cloud than paddling through the water, but it’s certainly a unique design,”

“Oh, definitely. The Christmas hats were an inspired design choice,” Louis replied, his smile growing when he saw Lee nod in approval at his comment.

“Thank you! I’m glad somebody enjoys my artistic efforts!”

Clementine looked over to see how Louis’ stocking was comparing to all of theirs and her eyes widened in surprise. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but surely not something so… delicate. Louis’ stocking was covered in a myriad of pale blue music notes of all sorts and scattered among them were falling snowflakes done in white glitter puff paint. Each snowflake had a heart at its center, giving an air of romance to the entire design.

Catching Clementine looking at his work, Louis paused in his careful application of another music note, grabbing a cookie and stuffing it in his mouth instead of coming up with something to say.

“I knew I was dating a musician but not an artist to boot,” Clementine commented, pausing in her own work to nab another cookie.

Louis smiled shyly at the praise before a playful smirk emerged. “Yours is looking impressive too, though may I suggest one addition? Instead of the classic star atop the Christmas tree, what if instead you had…” he paused, grabbing an orange pompom and placing it on the stocking, “a clementine?”

Lee chuckled. “That’s a good one, Louis,”

“Yeah, it’s like Clem’s own special tree!” A.J. stated happily.

Clementine rolled her eyes at the unanimous approval but couldn’t keep a smile from showing. “Alright then. If you all insist,”

“Hooray!” Louis leaned forward and placed a quick kiss upon Clementine’s cheek. “I knew you’d recognize my genius someday!”

That one definitely had Clementine rolling her eyes again. She was glad to see Louis truly unwinding and being himself in front of Lee though. The first few times he’d come over he’d been too nervous to even reach for her hand.

---

A little while longer and the stockings were all complete. After accounting for drying time, Lee shook them free of residual glitter then draped them on the bannister. “Quite the stockings we’ve made for ourselves. I think Santa will be proud when he sees them. He turned round to face the others. “Now that that’s done, should we settle in for a movie night? I was thinking it’d be the perfect opportunity to introduce Louis to Muppet Christmas Carol ,”

“That exists?” Louis asked in surprise. “I love the Muppets! I’m game!” He grinned over at Clementine who nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got nothing else planned for the night. A.J.?” She turned to ask her brother but found that he had already run over to the TV and pulled out the treasured DVD.

“It’s Muppet time!” A.J. bounced with excitement as he clutched the movie to his chest.

Grinning in amusement, the others all settled upon the couch to start the film. Clementine rested her head upon Louis’ shoulder as the lights dimmed. It had been a long day. As much as she loved Muppet Christmas Carol , she might just fall asleep on everyone. She stirred though as she felt Louis gently squeeze her hand. She looked over at her boyfriend, smiling softly.

“Thanks for including me today. And inviting me to Christmas,” he whispered.

“Of course. It’s always fun having you over. And…” Clementine paused, biting her lip as her cheeks lightly flushed, “I’m looking forward to Christmas with you,” Even in the darkness of the room she could see Louis’ large grin at her words. Before he could say anything more though, they were both hushed by Lee.

“No more talking you two – the movie’s starting,” Lee watched Muppet Christmas Carol religiously. There would be no chatting or pausing during the film.

Letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, Clementine nuzzled Louis’ shoulder and closed her eyes. It had been a wonderful winter day; she couldn’t wait for Christmas.

#fanfic #ericson's diner au #clouis #ninja fam #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg lee #twdg #twdg christmas #ericsonclanchristmaschallenge

[helisol]

ye s, well

it basically came to me like a prophet receiving a vision from an angry god. you know. like brian david gilberts video ideas but with more slow burn.

no really i wrote all this down in my phone’s note app because some nearly coherent things popped up in my head every time i was on the train or bus these last few days.

(after-actually-writing-this disclaimer/note: this is 2000 words of slightly edited rambling about Bagginshield in the Afterlife. i had to put it in a read more.)

so the gist of it

the botfa goes just as in the movie with minor details altered. like bilbo kissing thorin just before he dies which inadvertently causes a ripple in time and space that makes the valar curious of them both. you know. minor stuff.

so bilbo goes back to the shire, the war of the ring goes down, and the hobbit/elf gang sails to valinor at the end. classic stuff, not much alternating of universes here.

but here’s where things turn into the “my city now” meme because DUDE DO I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT VALINOR AND HOW THE AFTERLIFE WORKS

like, I’m sorry mister jolkien rolkien tolkien, but just putting people into a hall to await being judged like a hospital waiting room? snooze, that’s boring!

so first of all, and you can fight me on this, Yavanna Made The Hobbits And You Can’t Change My Mind.

it just makes sense for her to have been very saddened by the destruction of literally all her work on arda through melkor’s poison, so she made living, growing things that could protect themselves from harm. as opposed to the ents, by the way, which were made by Eru to protect all the other living, growing things. it was a nice gesture of Eru to make those, but not quite what Yavanna wanted or had in mind, i imagine.

as with the dwarves, Eru wasn’t all happy about the existence of another race he didn’t make but you know, whatever, ‘I’ll just let this married couple have their own kids aside from mine, it’s okay’.

so he hands both the dwarves and the hobbits independent thought and free will, but under the condition (and here is where the afterlife stuff comes into play) that Aule and Yavanna be responsible for their mortal creations after their death. meaning that both races have seperate afterlives from the halls of mandos, MEANING THAT ITS COMPLETELY FINE FOR AULE AND YAVANNA TO BE LIKE “oh look honey, these two are so very in love and remind me of us, shan’t we do something about that?”

so. they do something about that. more precisely, they rearrange their afterlife-realms so they’re next to each other and someone with enough willpower could cross through the barrier. because listen, they’re valar, they can do whatever they want just for kicks.

okay so after that tangent lets get back to the meat of the matter: gay dwarves. I know not everyone has read Sansukh, a 500k word mammoth of a fic, and I don’t really intend to copy any of det’s canon, but their version of The Halls of Mahal really inspired me. basically the dwarven afterlife is one big hunk of a mountain/underground city where they’re free to live their days until dagor dagorath doing what they do best in the company of their families and friends; like smithing, crafting, building and other JustDwarrowThings.

meanwhile the hobbit afterlife is Basically The Shire and instead of being given the materials to build things, all the hobbits who go there get to grow plants and do their gardening. they don’t have to- just like none of the dwarves have to craft stuff- since there’s always enough food for everyone, but they are just allowed to do what they do best if they so desire.

now when Bilbo arrived in the undying lands he was still Old As Hell and im sorry to put it this way, he definitely kicked the can after like, a week of living there. not really so undying, them lands, huh. anyway Bilbo bites the dust and LOOK AT THAT he’s suddenly young again, and another LOOK AT THAT he’s standing in a very comfy, but Not Quite Bag End hobbit hole that has a note hung up on the front door. you wouldn’t think gods could have handwriting but hey, again, they’re gods they can do whatever. the note just tells him that yavannah made this place special and just for Bilbo but that there’s another home waiting for him. very cryptic there, lady. he doesn’t leave at first because hey, his family is here. there’s a lot of reunions and celebrating and food because its the fucking hobbit afterlife, what else would you expect

it takes him a few days of Regular Hobbit Life in his new home to realise ‘holy shit, this is so boring’ so what does a Fool of a Took do when things get boring and there’s a note urging him to do something?

HE’S GOING ON AN ADVENTURE

so Bilbo runs through the whole not-shire, meeting all sorts of people he outlived on the way (looking at you, Lobelia), as well as some elves. because elves can definitely just waltz through all the afterlives. they can walk on top of snow, you think they wouldn’t walk around wherever they please in valinor? rip to mankind, but they’re different.

he gets to the furthest reaches of it eventually, and lo and behold, what awaits him but the view of a tall mountain, an invisible barrier and a very flustered Thorin who is at his wits end as to how Bilbo even got here.

now for thorin’s part of the story we’ll have to start after the botfa again. he basically woke up in the darkness like an episode of naked and afraid, and started talking to Aule. his maker, who loves him to bits by the way since he made thorin, just tells him he’s free to go wherever his heart takes him. again with the cryptic messages from the gods.

so thorin, still very self-loathing and bitter because of his actions right before his death, sees this as Mahal’s way of saying ‘please don’t step foot in my halls u disgusting litle creacher’, when really he just meant ‘please do some well deserved self reflecting and then come inside to be with your family, they all miss you terribly’.

after his chat with the maker thorin just spawns in right at the front gate of the mountain and he has a choice to make. go inside or stay outside. and we all know Thorin’s proclivity for drama so he basically spends LITERAL YEARS just living in self imposed solitary confinement.

oh also tiny hc here, thorin was said to have taken “any work offered to him in the towns of men”, and they showed him in a smithy, but personally I believe they meant it when they said “any kind of work”. so basically thorin is a jack of all trades, master of some. he definitely has master-level skills in certain areas though, enough to build a vaguely hobbit-hole shaped house. why is it hobbit hole shaped?

oh right, the part where Thorin is absolutely enamoured with Bilbo.

"Go back to your books and your armchair, plant your trees, watch them grow. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”- HELLO? GAY POLICE? I’D LIKE TO REPORT A CASE OF ‘DWARF KING REALISING THAT THE HOBBIT WAY OF LIVING IS A REALLY GREAT ONE IN CONCEPT / WISHING HE COULD HAVE HAD THAT KIND OF LIFE WITH BILBO’

anyway it’s a long 80 years until Thorin does get to meet Bilbo again, and in the meantime we have one of my favorite additions to any Hobbit fanfic ever: Frerin

For the uninitiated, Frerin is Thorin’s brother. They also have a sister, Dís, but Tolkien never specified when she died and she was a bit younger than Thorin and Frerin so I reckon she’d still be alive as an old dwarf lady somewhere?

Anyway, Frerin. Oh boy. Sansukh, again, does an excellent job at turning Frerin into a character with a level of authenticity that gets real fucking close to Genuine Tolkien™, so most of my own characterisation of Frerin is based on that in Sansukh. With the important omission of the dwarves not being able to see the present/their still alive loved ones in middle earth through a magic mirror pool.

so Frerin takes it upon himself to leave the mountain in search of his brother because he really does want him back. but also because Mahal has had it with Thorin’s antics and suggests Frerin fetch him so he can finally reunite with his family. Mahal doesn’t talk to the dwarves a lot because he’s like an awkward and distant dad, but he does actually speak to them.

so Thorin is supposed to go see his family, which he does, but not immediately. it takes like, a solid year of just brotherly (and sister-sonly) companionship for him to open up about all his anxieties and regrets and THEN he goes into the mountain to cry in his mother’s lap. as you do.

however Thorin still feels like he doesn’t 100% belong with the other dwarves in there, so he frequently spends long stretches of time outside, building away at his house, thinking about Bilbo. the company goes out to visit him sometimes.

more details on the house tho, cuz it’s Important; it’s built halfway into a hill near the mountain, like a proper hobbit hole would be, but the lower levels are built into stone. look, he’s had 80 years to work on constructing this. it’s near perfect in every way for both hobbit and dwarf standards and could definitely fit the entire company and more inside.

now about the barrier. elves can pass through without a second thought because they’re shiny little bastards who just get to do all the cool stuff, but the other races can’t just hop between realms like that; they really have to muster up the willpower. which usually means they can’t do it because a drawback for both dwarves and hobbits is that they favor isolation from other races even in death, and as such don’t want to mingle with each other.

unless you’re Bilbo Badass Baggins though, who simply runs through the barrier to yell at Thorin for leaving him sad and alone for 80 years. he is that bitch.

there’s gonna be some legolas and gimli shenanigans if i can fit them in (cuz i dont know when exactly they sailed west together), possibly a mention of tauriel because bruh peter jackson did us dirty by not giving her any closure besides ‘lol i guess she’s banished from mirkwood??’ and Mairon. because. I also have some thoughts about him.

also Fili and Kili as pseudo matchmakers because every fic needs that

and did I mention there’s gonna be hozier lyrics for chapter titles

i said this was the gist of it but i somehow ended up at ~1900 words. well, more power to me.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bagginshield afterlife au #this is the most coherent plot summary I've ever done for a fic so please enjoy the trash #also it's my sleepover and I get to pick which parts of canon i'll adhere by

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 17: The Show Must Go On

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Because tomorrow is no longer guaranteed the gang decides to spend a night at the theatre. In which Cal despises Shakespeare, Garrus and Krom go on an unofficial first date, and Taylor confronts his father.

[READ IT ON AO3]

He’s honestly surprised the director even bothers reaching out to him.

“Given everything your cousin has told me about the problems you have going on right now, I’m sure this isn’t really a surprise. I’ve taken the liberty of filing a personal leave of absence for you.” And Taylor just knows that was the happiest day of Antoni’s life…

“Even though you can’t be in the show, though, you’re still welcome to come Sunday. Hoping that, obviously, things have cleared up on your end by then. Just text me your head count before noon day-of, okay?”

It’s the first real and true good thing to happen without immediate consequence so far. And of course he tries to blow it off, tries to tell everyone he has absolutely no plans to put anyone else at risk just for the selfish sake of seeing a play he’s worked on for months and doesn’t even get to be in.

Not that anyone lets him finish before they straight-up tell him he’s wrong, he’s going, and if all hell breaks loose then they’ll deal with it when it happens.

“But the wards —”

“The wards have proven themselves useless,” Garrus interrupts with no small level of frustration; accepting the vulnerability of his sanctuary hasn’t been easy on the man, “we’re just as exposed here as you would be there. And I refuse to cower in fear. If they were going to attack they would have by now — don’t stop living your life because of what might happen.”

Surprisingly, too, Katherine makes a good point; “We might actually be safer surrounded by all those mundanes. A high fatality rate isn’t what the Elders are after, that much is certain.”

It’s about the only thing any of them are certain of.

So there’s really no way around it.

Sunday morning he tries to take a head count. Doesn’t argue when Vera, despite the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, insists that of course she wants to come. She doesn’t say it but its obvious she could use time away from the hospital and her mother’s bedside.

Nik’s phone vibrates on the table and Taylor glances just because he’s nearby. On really good timing the man chooses then to wander out from the bedroom — rubbing his hair vigorously with his towel.

“Kathy said she and Cade are down if we don’t mind.” One look and Taylor regrets it so bad. He’s not certain, but there’s absolutely no way all of his shirts have miraculously shrunk, right?

He totally has to buy them just shy of too tight.

Not that Taylor’s complaining. Nope. No complaining here.

Ryder gives a noncommittal grunt and shrug as he passes. “Your shindig, your choice.”

“I mean they’re our friends, so…”

There’s a pause; a lag in the matrix if you will, between when Nik stops in front of the fridge and actually opens it. Keeps his back turned as he replies, “Then the more the merrier.”

He doesn’t need to be part fae to know what that’s about — but it doesn’t hurt.

The concept of friends is plural and consistent. And just as weird for him as it is for the loner Nik is accustomed to being.

Yesterday was hard and heavy.

Today is no better from a cosmic point of view.

But its softer around the edges; the difference between being stabbed with a wicked sharp dagger and being punched in the face.

Nik all but flops down on the couch beside him; pushes the open guide on reading and interpreting tarot that Taylor’s been pouring over away with a socked foot.

“I was reading that.”

“Oops.” The only unapologetic apology he’s getting, too, so he takes it.

Its been nearly twenty-four hours since his emotional breakdown and in that time he’s learned more about Ryder — and vice versa — than would have been shared on five, six dates tops. Things that wouldn’t come up without specific and out-of-left-field context, too.

Like the fact that Nik is a cheap-ass (this he knew) who has a serious case of the moonlight munchies — two things that mix about as well as oil and water. So it makes sense now why half of the fridge’s sparse contents are signature drink and cocktail add-ons.

Does it justify the fact that a fully grown man is sitting very close to him popping green olives like pieces of candy? Not in the fucking slightest.

But he knows what’s going to happen the second Nik sees his disgust — tries his best to turn away before he’s caught. Only he’s not quick enough and its too late.

“Want one?” Nik asks even though he knows the answer.

He doesn’t have time to deflect because the man picks one up and tosses it — doubles over in laughter when it bounces off Taylor’s cheek, falls to the floor, and rolls under the nearest chair to die alone.

“What are you,” he fake-gags and wipes his cheek angrily, “twelve years old?”

His glare very nearly breaks under the sheer audacity of Ryder’s pouting face. Only nearly because there’s no fucking way he’s kissing that offensive mouth no matter how closely the man leans in. “Aw c’mon Rook — jus’ one kiss!”

“Get away from me! Ew!”

“You know you like me~”

“Wrong! Incorrect! You disgust me!”

And of course they’re joking but he’s maybe a little too loud in his protests. Earns himself a haughty snort and a glare directed at his feet of all things.

“You walk around barefoot and I’m the disgusting one.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Uh, I do — so I win.”

Despite the fact that they had spent the previous hours getting to know not only (truly repulsive) snacking habits but also (much less repulsive, like the opposite of repulsive actually) one another’s mouths, Nik follows the same pattern each time. Roams his eyes over every inch of Taylor’s face like he’s gung-ho on taking the test in his sleep — drags a fingernail feather-light over the scruff on his jawline.

Their first time hadn’t been enough to ward him away and for that Taylor’s pretty fucking grateful. But it left a mark on him. No doubt its the reason why he always takes five whole agonizing seconds between the start and the follow-through.

Like he’s giving Taylor time to pull back; to reject him without consequence.

Maybe one day they’ll laugh about it. A silly habit no longer necessary. Because there’s always a breath hidden in the meeting of mouths that tastes of bitter relief.

Nik is relieved — not once, or twice, but every single time.

Which is more than a little tragic when he gives it a deep thought. He tries not to — really, he does.

Its easy not to think about anything at all when they’re kissing.

So that’s something.

Taylor knows that glamours serve a specific purpose; to disguise the average not-human supernatural person among the average yes-human person.

He’s even come to terms with how easily they fade into the background now. How he can scan a crowd and catch a glimpse of hooves in place of boots or a tail whipping its way behind someone trying to pass by. He considers his largest achievement to be not jumping ten feet in the air at the difficult-to-describe sight of ghosts possessing glamoured bodies.

But he can know and process all of these things and still be almost alarmingly paranoid about the trio of Krom, Garrus, and Ivy waiting in line behind them, right?

Nik grabs his head before he can look back for the umpteenth time; turns it back forward with a grunt. “The only one looking weird here is you, Rook. Everyone else sees regular folk.”

And he knows that, he does. But… “Do you ever stop worrying about it, like, slipping or something?”

“Not my problem if it does.”

“Well yeah, but…” The line shuffles forward and he trails off. Probably better not to give those particular anxieties a life of their own by voicing them aloud.

He doesn’t have to anyway, apparently. Since Taylor finds himself pulled against Nik’s side, feels warm breath tickle in his ear.

“Don’t worry. You still look completely human.”

“For now.”

The performer playing Puck stands in half-costume at the front of the line with a clipboard in hand. He has a whole two-point-five seconds to remember her name — Dana? Debbie? D-something. D-something… fuck  there are too many D-something names! — before its their turn to enter the theatre.

Daphne! It comes to him like a holy revelation as she starts to go through the motions — only to notice the name and double-take in surprise.

“Hey Hunter, how’s it going?” Her small-talk is strained but polite. They’ve run lines together and he can vaguely recall being educated on her literal herd of mini dachshunds once, but whatever his ‘cousins’ gave by way of excuse for him pulling out of the show is enough to make her sheepish.

He makes a mental note to corner Garrus for the full story after the show. Especially since ‘cousin’ is a more-or-less accurate term these days.

“Uh, you know,” a one-shouldered shrug, “hanging in there. You excited?”

To her credit as an actress she checks off each body accompanying him, all eight of them, without batting an eye.

“Totally. I’m just glad the actual opening night ain’t until Mardi Gras is over, you know?”

“Director didn’t let you work the beads into your improv then I take it?”

They share a laugh. She waves them inside.

Only when they’re around a corner does Taylor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Vera gives him a nudge. “You okay?”

“Yeah — was it just me or was that…”

Cal pokes his head in between them. “Awkward as hell? No—it wasn’t just you.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

In less than a week he’s forgotten how to, well, be human. Socialize with humans, talk casually with humans. Its unnerving — not only that but it serves to remind him by the way the Coven and their pet skeleton assassin are still out there.

None of this is even close to being over and he’s already forgotten small talk?

What else might be lost along the way?

“You look like you’re thinkin’ too much about something.”

Taylor’s smile is strained and not enough to ease Nik’s doubts. What did he expect though; that one soulful look from those fathomless eyes, or a touch that sends shivers down his spine, or one of those disarmingly sincere smiles is all it would take to make him forget his worries completely?

If only it were that simple. Not that he’s turning any of those things down — no no, he’s free to keep trying as many times as he’d like.

Its a half-full house on purpose; one full run in front of a crowd before a week of changes to make the final thing as smooth as possible.

And it was supposed to be Taylor’s time to shine; a performance of understudies. He’s told himself there will be other opportunities, that this is for the best given what’s going on. He wanted to come to support his fellow actors — to celebrate in all the work they’ve done over the last few months.

He didn’t think it would be that hard to watch. Then the space goes dark and silence falls in a warm velveteen hush.

The trio of Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate take the stage — a different blocking than what they used at his last rehearsal.

The heels of his palms are pressed hard to stop his tears before Theseus even opens his mouth.

To his left Vera lets out a soft noise; both sad and comforting as her tentative hand on his shoulder turns into slow circular motions on his back. And he knows the heat-leeching palm behind him is Cal. Cal didn’t even want to come — had made it very clear there was once a school play, a bad batch of cafeteria vegetables, and a lifelong aversion to Shakespeare whose details would never again see the light of day. But there he is giving comfort where he can. He’s probably glad for something else to focus on than the stage but he knows Cal by now — knows he does nothing without meaning to do it.

Just when Taylor’s sure he’s going to have to make a mad dash for the doors, however, a familiar hand slides into his. Nik’s focus is still intent on the scene unfolding but he squeezes his fingers and doesn’t seem to care about the tears between their palms.

He’s supposed to be up on that stage. He’s supposed to be sweating under the heat of the lights and praying to the thespian gods that the tape on his mic holds fast. He’s supposed to be giving the performance of his life to an audience of friends and loved ones knowing Kristin was back in New York, that his mother couldn’t make it, and that there was no one watching that was there just for him.

Instead he’s here in the crowd. Instead he’s surrounded by friendship’s concern and holding the hand of the guy who seems to be making it a habit of standing in between him and certain death.

Instead he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

When the lights slide back on for intermission Cadence whirls around in his seat, arm thrown over the back, to practically barrage Krom with questions about artistic representation, choices made and things changed.

It feels a little bit like being back in a college classroom. Not the first time Cade has that effect on people.

“I — I really only helped with small stuff,” the stone troll stammers his protests, “heavy lifting or working on things normal people couldn’t reach.”

“But you’re a writer are you not?”

“An amateur at best…”

But the vampire isn’t having it. “Nonsense, I’ve caught snippets of your work. I only mean —”

“Ugh, just humor the man will you?” Katherine groans, rolls her head back on her own seat with a lighthearted glare between the two.

Nik pulls Taylor’s attention away from their talk with an arm around his shoulder. “How’s it so far? On the other side of the stage.”

“They changed a few things —” — more than a few, and more to do with Oberon than any other character so three guesses who made that call — “— but I honestly just keep counting their steps for the blocking.”

“Nerd,” scoffs the man, and Taylor isn’t exactly going to deny it.

Actually, since they have a second…

Last he knew, being borderline psychic was his thing, not Ryder’s. But Nik’s moved his legs before Taylor even stands and makes him backtrack real quick on that.

“I figured you’d wanna go say hey to them, or whatever,” and though that’s the spoken explanation Taylor can’t stop himself from feeling the real intention behind it.

He just cares.

He ducks his head to hide a flushed smile; murmurs “thanks” and lets his lips linger at the corner of Nik’s mouth as he shimmies into the aisle.

Only when he’s at the door does it occur to him that this thing between them is a recent one, and they’ve not mentioned things like public affection. But judging by the look he throws over his shoulder — catches Ivy hitting the man on the arm repeatedly and the bewildered grin on her undead face?

Its just another thing to tease him over.

Its standard stuff; the small lines by the bathrooms, crew members in their all-black ensembles bustling this and that around. All things he’s familiar with — that he doesn’t bat an eye at.

Then he spares a glance — less than that, actually, calling it a glance is somehow generous — down one of the hallways leading to further seating. The lights are off, the doors no doubt locked. Makes sense for an audience this size.

He doesn’t know why he does. Only knows both suddenly and all at once who he’ll see in the shadows beyond.

Taylor wants so badly to just ignore it. To reach out and knock on the doors to the maze of back rooms and do exactly what he planned on; congratulating his fellow performers.

But he doesn’t.

By now Taylor’s helped Garrus enough in the bottomless pit he calls a storage room to know that fae folk don’t ‘glow.’ They just always look like they do.

Elric, too, looks like he snatched a few moonbeams for himself on his way inside.

The shadows don’t retreat from him but they are withered by his presence; by the aura of him. Had he looked like that in Lamrian, as natural as light itself? Or was he witnessing yet another new facet to his senses brought on by interference of the man who really shouldn’t be here.

When Taylor opens his mouth to speak nothing comes out; a dozen questions all fighting to leap from the tip of his tongue and giving him pause.

Finally he settles on something more akin to an accusation.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean to wound the fae Lord — but also won’t deny that the recoil of remorse he gets in response isn’t a teeny bit satisfying.

“No, I should not.”

“Glad we agree.” Of course he wants to ask why are you here but he shouldn’t have to.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t. “I caught whispers of this event within your mind. Lines from a script, a dedication — a pride. I wished to see what it truly was. Living Memories are shaped by the person to whom the memories belong.”

And here he had thought he’d be spared of a headache tonight, of all nights.

“I — what I — there’s so much to unpack there,” and nothing amused in his dry laugh either, “so we’ll start with the fact that I didn’t do a—a Living Memory-thing. I don’t even know how.”

“To accept Memories is to offer up your own.”

“Gee, that would have been nice to know.”

“Do not blame yourself —”

“Oh, I’m not. No worries there.”

“I should have explained it to you. Not then; not in such dire times.”

“Then when?”

“Long before now.” Elric’s eyes are like diamonds; diamonds twisted into sharp, construction-grade drills trying to puncture holes straight through him. The intensity is unnerving if he’s being honest.

About as unnerving as getting what he’s pretty sure is a ‘More Proactive Parent’ apology from this guy he literally just met the other night. Not even a guy — a fae.

Elric reaches out as if to touch his hand. The movement is enough — breaks Taylor from his little trance  so he can pull back. Pale fingers instead close around air and grieve their mistake.

“I did not like the way things were left in Lamrian, Taylor.”

Taylor — like he has any right to say the name he chose all on his own.

“That’s your problem. But yeah, I can see how refusing to help your own son to save yourself might leave a bad taste in your mouth.”

It’s a very nice burn, high five kind of moment right up until the shadows creep up onto the fae’s expression. “I have the safety of an entire community to put first. Forgive me for prioritizing my life’s work and the many lives under my care over the child who only seems to acknowledge our connection when it suits his insults.”

Damn… nice burn… high five…

“Are you, Taylor?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Am I what?”

“Are you acknowledging me as your…?” He leaves it hanging there, juicy bait in murky waters. And Taylor isn’t starving — not quite yet — but he’s definitely not full either.

He glances back to the theatre atrium.

The background noise is quieter down here but soon enough everyone will be heading back to their seats. No doubt the curtain won’t even be fully opened before Nik is bounding out the doors to find him.

“Look, Lord Elric…”

Who acts like the title brings him pain; “Please, call me —”

“— I’m not calling you Dad; or Pop, Father, or any variation thereof —”

“If you would listen as often as you speak. I would ask you to call me Elric.”

Even that feels like a boundary they shouldn’t cross. What good is to come of being friendly, getting to know one another — especially when he’s facing the very likely chance of being dead by Tuesday?

On the other hand, whispers a voice in the back of his head, what’s the harm in getting to know your actual father — especially facing the very likely chance of being dead by Tuesday?

First, how rude can you be? Second, nobody asked you, rude little voice.

But after several dragging moments of internal arguing the voice ends up winning. Still rude though.

“What do you want out of this, Elric? What did you hope to gain from coming here?”

He looks almost affronted. “I wished to… connect with you. You are… my child. A miracle I had not even believed let alone known of.”

My child. Two simple words that ring in his ears unpleasantly.

“My plate’s full enough. I don’t know if I have room for ‘connecting.’”

“Would it not be worth trying?”

Taylor throws his hands up in exasperation. “Maybe! Fuck — maybe… maybe if I wasn’t so scared of dying. Or if I thought I had the time. But whatever the Coven Elders are planning it’s —”

Elric’s eyes widen, but that isn’t what cuts him off. Every hair on his body stands up at the same time. Without a chill, without a touch. It’s a feeling; powerful and consuming and coming from the fae Lord.

“Oh right,” because Elric refused to help and they’d gone to the Elders and that was that, “you don’t know. Yeah, the Coven’s the one who summoned the wraith. It’s a whole thing — I don’t have the time to go into it and I kinda don’t even want to because tonight was supposed to be one last attempt at normal but joke’s on me I guess.”

“You will make the time.”

He’d consider going at him for trying to use what he probably thinks is a tone of fatherly authority on Taylor — if it wasn’t so strikingly familiar. Commanding the wisdom and strength of his years both gone and yet to come. It demands respect, to be heard and the weight of every word understood.

Its the Elric he’d met for the first time in the Beau-Keyes Garden, and its kind of a relief.

Would have been useful yesterday, though.

He sums the encounter up as best he can; keeps throwing looks back over his shoulder as a sort of passive-aggressive-meets-non-confrontational way of saying he’s being held up.

And yes, logically he should be happy Elric is changing his tune no matter the reason. But he’s petty and spiteful and hey, nobody’s perfect.

By the time Taylor finishes Elric is already deep in thought — strings of thought becoming ropes, knots; an intricate web displayed across his entire person with just a look.

Another one of those looks he’s seen in the mirror, actually.

But they’re just thoughts. Not actions. He doesn’t need to be a little psychic to know that.

“No doubt my breath would be a wasted one were I to ask you to return to Lamrian with me.”

Elric means well — but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What, like — leave my friends behind to die and abandon the entire community that doesn’t even know what’s coming for it?”

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t have to. “And—And what would I do,” continues Taylor, “just hang out with you and your wife, maybe do something productive like learn the pan flute or whatever?”

“This is not a matter to make light of.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t!” Fuck it, he’s shouting and doesn’t care who hears now. “I can’t believe you. Cowering in safety alone is one thing but to try and drag me down with you? That’s messed up; you’re messed up.”

“You do not know of what you speak — of the centuries our kind spend trying to conceive.”

“I’m not one of you.”

“You are, denying it hurts only yourself. By all accounts you are a miracle, Taylor. But children among the fair folk are few and far between. So for you to stand there — to twist my words as though they mean nothing…”

It’s a little hard to keep his composure when Elric’s voice cracks. It doesn’t make any of it okay — not by a long shot — but there’s a wrongness to that tone normally even and cultured sounding choked with emotion.

He even tries to swallow it down. It doesn’t work. “I have seen the cost of bravery. And to see you so passionate — so determined to fight this battle that I am certain was never meant to be yours. It ensnares me in a way you cannot yet understand. Pride overtakes me, yet I am made immobile.

“I have seen enough in my life to know when fighting is parallel to dying. No matter how brief the battle or noble the purpose there are some forces that cannot be overcome.”

He takes Taylor’s hand. Clammy and cold and he tries to hide it but Taylor knows the effects of a panic attack from personal experience that no matter how refined the otherworldly creature is you can’t always hide the tremors in your fingertips.

Like before he feels a tug in his gut. Something hooking into his center of gravity and puling him, or his essence, closer.

Hears the fae clear in his mind; terrified, heartbroken, too much.

I could not bear the sight of you among the casualties. Do not ask it of me. I beg of you.

Over-thinking about the heartbreak in every word, about the things he can’t possibly understand that allow Elric to feel so much and so hard for a person he doesn’t know — it’s not a luxury Taylor can afford right now. And not just because the emotional depth it requires might very well bring him to tears again.

So he squeezes that pale grip tight, the only solidarity he allows himself to muster, then lets go.

“I can’t.”

“Taylor —”

“No, really Elric, I can’t.” He steps back; creates distance between them both physically and on a deeper level. “I wasn’t supposed to be a part of this — I wasn’t. I’m only being targeted because of you; because I’m your son. You know what the Elders called me? They called me an ‘unseen complication.’ And up until right now it’s really bugged me. By all accounts I’ve not made anything complicated except for the lives of my friends.

“But maybe I’m not done yet, you know? Maybe there’s more for me to do. Probably not, let’s be real, but I have to try. Nik— Nik is trying, and he’s never done that before. Kathy and Cade don’t have any stake in this but they keep trying because they’re good people. Cal wants to make this city safer for his brother and Vera… she could have run back to New York at any time but she hasn’t.

“I’m not gonna stand here and say I fully understand what’s going on. But that doesn’t mean I should cut and run. I think its because I don’t know jack-shit that I can do the most good. Or, you know, at least try to.”

He falters at the end; never one to finish strongly in situations like these. Would he like for Elric to stay, to try like the rest and do some good — of course.

But any part of him left hesitant about his involvement is gone now. So he can thank the fae for that at the very least.

Wow, is this what emotional growth feels like? That warm feeling in his chest spreading out to the tips of his fingers and toes, the pride in his actions, the sense of accomplishment however small?

Kristin is going to be so proud of him when she wakes up.

He doesn’t realize he’s waiting for Elric to respond until he inhales deeply. Looks Taylor over with those same eyes somehow changed. Like he’s really seeing him for the first time.

“You are brave — braver than most.”

“No I’m really not. But I’m scared enough to want to do something about it.”

“Very well. Whatever you wish to call it… the quality is an admirable one.”

“You should try it out sometime.”

“Perhaps you can show me how, one day.” But not this day.

That’s it then. The arguing, the impassioned speeches, all of it and Elric still plans on hiding.

Fine. He’s done trying to make the man see reason.

“I’m gonna get back to the show — my company’s worked hard for this and even though I’m not up there, I deserve the chance to see it through.”

Just as resigned as he had been in Lamrian, Elric closes himself off when he tucks his clasped hands in his sleeves. Beautiful embroidery becoming his wall against the world.

Against the terrible things about to happen.

“You will find no time has passed,” he says to Taylor’s surprise, “I had hoped you would return with me. The chance to say farewell to your companions was the least I could offer.”

Implications aside… “Thanks, I guess. I’ll see you around, Elric.”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy.”

He’s halfway down the hall when a definite something comes over him. Is there such a thing as too much emotional growth? It tastes a little bit like he’s downed a shot of vinegar.

It makes him turn back; it knows the other man is still there — watching.

“You risked your life coming here — in person.”

Elric nods. “Yes.”

“All the things you’re staying out of the fight for; your people, Thalissa — if the bloodwraith showed up…”

“I knew the risk.”

“But it’s temporary, so that makes it okay.”

“What it does it make it a risk worth taking.”

“There it is then…” and Taylor almost can’t believe he’s saying this, but — “Come on, there’s a few empty seats in front of us. You can take one of those.”

Maybe he’s spent enough time in the fae’s presence now to understand and see every emotion he expresses. Small flickers and ticks in facial features — and that’s being generous.

Confusion. Contemplation. Understanding. Surprise.

And more than a little heartbreak.

“The longer I stay here the greater the chance of discovery by the creature.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been here a pretty long time already. What’s an extra hour or two?”

“The difference between life and death.”

“A fair point. Counter— you wanted to spend time together, Pop.” He pops his lips on the word. And funnily enough that seems to be what does the job.

There was no reason to doubt Elric’s truthfulness but he’s still relieved when they walk back into the theatre and the curtains are still drawn.

It would be helpful if someone turned around to see them; if they warned the others. But unfortunately (for Garrus) it’s a complete surprise when they greet his return… with company.

“Look who I found at the concession stand.” Taylor throws his arm around Elric’s shoulder and squeezes for the humor of it. Shit he probably should have asked if the man had a glamour.

Well, no one’s staring or screaming yet, so probably a good sign.

The general aura of confusion is broken by Garrus who, impossibly enough, looks more pale than usual. Beside him Krom is halfway reaching out; as if to shield his unspoken crush from Elric’s unseen wrath.

“Hey there, Rook,” Nik’s look of ‘what the literal?’ doesn’t stray from the fae’s ethereal glow, “thought you were goin’ backstage.”

Because this was his fault? “Oh, I was. But then I got to thinking — it’s a friends and family viewing so, you know, why not call my estranged father Elrond?”

“Elric.”

Sigh. “I know. It’s a joke.”

Elric nods. “Ah, I see.” No he doesn’t, but that’s not the point. Actually that he doesn’t is what makes it a little bit funnier.

But Taylor realizes quickly that he’s made a mistake in just assuming this would be okay. Garrus has never been quiet for this long and it makes everyone a little on edge. What happens when the man who always has something to say falls silent?

“You look well, Gallus.”

Garrus flinches violently at the name; at Elric’s attempt to cut through the tension. “That isn’t my name and you know it.”

“It was once.”

“Not anymore.” Garrus looks to Krom in surprise. Its the most intimidating the gentle giant has ever sounded. Though rage literally flickers as flames in Ivy’s cursed eyes she manages to look at him with pride.

It seems Taylor isn’t the only one who’s grown as a person tonight, though. As the discomfort rises to an almost stifling level the Lord bows his head, speaks somber and its enough to make everyone take a breath.

“I wish not to intrude on your time, Garrus,” Garrus who reaches absently for something to ground him and finds it in Krom’s hand clasping his, “only to take what precious moments my child allows me to possess.”

Way to push the blame on Taylor.

Taylor who struggles for something to say; an apology, a get out of here, anything. “I didn’t — I mean I — Garrus if —”

He raises a hand and Taylor’s glad for the opportunity to bite his tongue. Finds relief in the fact that Garrus still manages a smile his way.

“You couldn’t know. And it doesn’t bother me, honestly —” — especially not when he has Krom’s hand to squeeze where the seats separate their thighs — “— as long as my old landlord respects his boundaries, and doesn’t have an ulterior motive.”

“I do not.”

“Pinky swear?”

Elric doesn’t understand and it shows; some kind of power move Garrus relishes in by grinning at the laughter that ripples through them and breaks the tension.

The room grows dark as the company prepares to resume. Taylor awkwardly (and if he’s honest, uncomfortably) ushers Elric into the seat parallel to his a row forward. Close enough to count as ‘spending time together’ while also glad to be a buffer between his fae father and Garrus.

Velvet curtains pull apart with a flourish. Just before the cast begins Taylor manages to lean back and give a real apology to his friend.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first.” He whispers.

Garrus places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Really, darling, no big deal here.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

He can’t remember the last time he made any promises so important as pinky promises. But he and Garrus link little fingers and exchange small smiles just in time for Titania to begin her lines.

With a deep breath of courage and only after finding Nik’s hand in the dark he leans again, forward this time, and directs Elric’s attention to the performance.

“Okay, so quick recap. There are four lovers, right, Helena who loves Demetrius, who loves Hermia, who loves Lysander, but the thing is…”

#nightbound #choices nb #playchoices fanfiction #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #katherine nightbound #cal lowell #vera reimonenq #oc: cadence smith #garrus #ivy #krom #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[damaless]

Instead Of Getting Hit, Don’t

Chapter Thirteen: Team Shouto

“There's someone I need to see again, too.” Yamada slings his bow across his back.

Shouto lets out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re— you want to come with us?”

“Indeed,” Yamada says, lifting his chin. “I’ve sat around wallowing for long enough. This looks to be as good a chance as any for me to actually do something about this miserable situation.”

Shouto looks towards the rest of the group.

Kyouka inclines her head. “Good different, then.”

Mina nods. “The more, the merrier!”

‘Merry’ isn’t a word Shouto would have used to describe Yamada based on their previous interactions, but his demeanor has completely shifted, now.

Maybe he’d only been subdued out of a sense of helplessness — resolving himself to take action seems to have energized him. The man Shouto had caught a glimpse of before, when he’d first mentioned Aizawa to him, has come out in full force.

“And you can conjure pools of acid?” he’s asking Mina, who gives a brief demonstration. He nods, and moves on, taking stock of them all.

He returns to Shouto. “You’ve got an impressive little group here,” he says. “Let’s see how they fare in battle! Lead the way, Shouto!”

***

Nemean Chariots can’t really grind an opponent into dust beneath their wheels when they’ve been rendered weightless. Half of the chariots hang in the air above their heads, giant, deadly wheels spinning ineffectively as Yamada picks them off one by one with his bow. All Ochako had needed to do was get close enough to touch each one. The other half have mostly been dissolved after running into Mina’s acid pools.

“I can’t believe you fought through all this alone,” Mezou says as they take a moment to breathe.

Shouto leans against a wall. “It’s not like I had any other choice.” He laughs mirthlessly. “It’s not anything impressive; I failed hundreds of times before I ever managed to face Endeavor at the surface.”

Mezou shakes his head. “You had a choice — you could have given up entirely. A lesser person would have. Or you could have come out of it hardened and cruel.”

Denki joins them, resting an elbow on Shouto’s shoulder. “Yeah, don’t sell yourself short. You’re an inspiration! It’s amazing that you weren’t an asshole to begin with, your dad being who he is.”

Denki jostles him, grinning pointedly until Shouto smiles, just slightly.

“That’s better,” he says, and walks off to insert himself into whatever Kyouka, Mina, and Hitoshi are conversing about.

“He’s right, you know,” Mezou says, quietly — it’s amazing that someone with such a large physical presence can be so soft-spoken. “None of us would be here if we didn’t believe in you, no matter how nonchalant about it some of them seemed back on Olympus.”

Shouto closes his eyes, sighing heavily. His time on Olympus is foggy; he’d been operating automatically, failing to process everything he’d been through, trying to come to terms with what he’d gained — what he’d lost. But regardless of how thoroughly he’d thrown himself into helping the others with their responsibilities, striving to fill an Izuku-shaped hole with new connections, new purpose — he can’t possibly deserve this much faith from them.

He opens his eyes. “We should keep moving.”

***

Shouto drops low and forms a wall out of the ground as Aoyama’s spear soars past him.

Ugh. Had it been too much to ask that their absence up until now had meant that they’d found something more productive to do than get in his way?

“Do we really need to do this?” Shouto calls. “What did Endeavor come up with this time? Now I’m a monster who needs to be kept out of the Underworld?”

“Monster?” Hitoshi whispers, crouched beside him.

Shouto shrugs. No time for a long-winded explanation of his father’s methods of roping in assistant jail keepers.

“Come out, you cowardly snake!” Aoyama’s voice seethes with animosity. “I see you’ve manipulated a few little godlings into aiding you!”

Is it really necessary to be so insulting? It’s not like Shouto’s ever done anything against him personally, other than killing him repeatedly — but Aoyama’s attitude had been around before all that, even.

Shouto frowns, looking around at his friends. Would they doubt his honesty at this point? Could they be led to believe that he had manipulated them?

“Hey, Shouto,” Hanta says, putting a hand on his arm. “You didn’t even ask us to come. We know you didn’t manipulate anybody.”

The rest nod their agreement, faces earnest — even Hitoshi and Kyouka.

“Even if you’d tried, we’re not idiots,” Hitoshi adds with a smirk.

Is he really that transparent? He twists his mouth. He hasn’t lied to any of them, no — but he has he done anything to deserve all this trust and loyalty?

Yamada steps forward. “Would you say that I am a gullible fool, Yuuga?”

Aoyama’s over-dramatic gasp is audible even from behind a barrier across the room. “Yamada Hizashi? What are you doing in the company of this contemptible scoundrel?”

“That is enough, Yuuga.” Iida’s voice rings out for the first time since their arrival. “Up until now, I have fulfilled my duty as a combatant at your side without voicing any of my doubts of Endeavor’s claims. But Shouto has fought with honor every single time, and here he stands with the clear support of Olympus. And Yamada Hizashi is championing his cause, as well.”

“What are you suggesting, Tenya?” Aoyama asks, incredulity raising the pitch of his voice at least an octave.

Their voices drop in volume, and Shouto peers around the edge of his barricade. Iida has pulled Aoyama to the side and is gesturing sharply towards their group.

Shouto nudges Kyouka. “Can you make out what they are saying?”

She nods, and closes her eyes. After a moment, she starts to speak. “The big one with the axe—”

“Iida Tenya,” Shouto provides.

“—is systematically debunking every claim your father has made against you. The shiny one—”

“Aoyama Yuuga.”

“—seems skeptical, but he’s listening.”

Shouto exhales slowly. Maybe this won’t come down to a fight after all. As a group, they would almost certainly be able to prevail against the two of them, but likely not without casualties. Iida’s axe is almost instantly lethal, and he’s fast. Aoyama’s spear can’t be ignored, either.

Kyouka opens her eyes and raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you really keep letting him go after you’d nearly defeated him, knowing that meant you’d have to face him again with his little friend?”

Shouto glances down and away. “He yielded. And it’s not like I ever actually wanted to fight him.” He’d always hoped that one day, Iida would stop wanting to fight him, too.

“You’re too good for your own good, Shouto,” Kyouka says, shaking her head. She pats his hand gently.

“Mm,” he replies, noncommittal. It’s hard to agree, knowing how badly he’d treated Izuku — inadvertently, but still. He’d taken years to make it to the surface after learning of his mother’s existence — additional years in which she’d continued to suffer, as a result of his inadequacy. And now, making everyone help him—

“They’re coming over here,” Kyouka whispers, interrupting his self-flagellation session.

Shouto tenses, readying himself to jump out from behind his wall. He grips his sword and calling his mother’s frost to his fingertips. If he can slow Iida down, maybe—

“We’ve decided to join you in your quest, Shouto,” Iida announces, and Shouto blinks.

They want to join him? Not just let him past without a fight?

He stands up, narrowing his eyes. “How do I know I can trust him?” He jerks his chin at Aoyama while maintaining eye contact with Iida.

Iida nudges Aoyama, who stumbles forward from the force of it.

Aoyama scuffs at the ground with his foot. “I apologize, Shouto. I was operating under some false conceptions about you, but still — it was excessive for me to make it so… personal.”

Ochako and Tsu come to stand at either side of him, arms folded. Aoyama’s eyes widen, and he shrinks under the intensity of their glares.

“We’ll keep an eye on him for you, Shouto,” Ochako says.

Tsu nods. “If he reaches for his spear without good reason, he’s done.”

Aoyama visibly swallows.

Shouto nods. “More the merrier,” he says, voice flat. He glances at Mina, and she grins.

She inserts herself between Iida and Aoyama, slapping them each on the back. “Welcome to team Shouto!”

Read this chapter on Ao3

Read from the beginning

#long post #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bnha #tododeku #hades supergiant games #hades #hades au #bnha au #iida tenya #aoyama yuuga #ashido mina #uraraka ochako #asui tsuyu #shouji mezou #sero hanta #yamada hizashi #instead of getting hit don't #ioghd #my fics #my writing #my stuff #greek mythology #greek mythology au #todoriya #midoroki #todomido

[dondake]

[musa/shin/king] brioche

rating: t summary: It’s hard to not fall for a boy like Shindou. AO3 Link

[=]

Sakaguchi had just returned from a late evening career fair on campus when he ran into Musa in the kitchen. Normally, he’d go straight to his room after spending hours tightly wrapped into a stiff dress shirt done up to the top button and cocooned in his stuffy wool blazer - but they’d served food at the fair, and like any resourceful college student, he had helped himself to some take-home boxes for late night snacking. The problem with rooming with all boys was that leftovers were a rare commodity, especially for growing boys like Kakeru and the twins who were leaching from the fridge at an alarming rate. Sometimes he got hungry and on late nights, he did not want to risk waking Haiji by cooking deep into the early morning. “Welcome back, King,” Musa greeted, beaming as always. Musa was never unhappy to see anyone from the house.

“I’m home,” he replied, nodding his head. It didn’t seem too long ago that Musa had moved into the house, his Japanese still broken and awkward in places. But his study-abroad proved to be successfully immersive, for sometimes King felt that Musa was more of a classic Japanese boy than he was. Passing behind Musa to get to the fridge, his eyes fell on the mess of color on the table. Musa’s room was collectively known to be the most colorful of all their rooms, perhaps second to the multi-color spines of Prince’s extensive collection; he kept a perfectly pressed Guinean flag over his bed and tended to wear more shades than the seemingly standard tracksuit colors that dominated the house. After taking care to angle his box of food in the fridge to clearly show his name, to discourage vultures, King passed behind Musa again, coming to a stop.

“Are you...making art?”

Musa looked up, too engrossed in his work to notice that King had been watching him. “Huh? Oh, no - though I’d love to get back into painting again, what with the studios and all on campus...I digress. I’m color-coding my notes; I’ve got a major exam coming up and Shindou told me that colors can help visually connect things and make it easier to remember concepts and details.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Yes. These are Shindou’s colored pencils, of course. I have the primary colors, but I suppose it would be normal for our marketing chair to have a comprehensive set.”

King let out a laugh. “That boy has everything anyone in the house would need in his room, I swear. I wanted to look up the origins of an ancient instrument to confirm something I’d seen on a show and he just happened to have an encyclopedia of traditional Japanese instruments.”

Musa nodded sagely. “Indeed. Shindou is certainly the most reliable of all of us.”

“Agreed. He’s practically a pillar of the household, holding us all up. And Haiji is the rickety floorboards urging us to run faster and faster.”

“A pillar is a good way of putting it. He was the first one in the house to really reach out to me and ask about what my home is like. I find that people here are nervous about that, that they are anxious in pointing out how I’m different. But Shindou is different; he’s got a drive to do things right and see them to the end, and he wanted me to feel welcome and a part of the group.”

King scratched the back of his neck. It had been a long time since he’d praised someone openly with someone else, but Shindou deserved all the good words about him. “I think it would kill him to leave a stone unturned; he definitely doesn’t do anything halfway. Sometimes I wonder how he manages to have his own life together and still find time to tend to all of us, like sending me obscure bits of information from some publication he subscribes to - or that time he knew the release date for once of Prince’s favorite series before Prince did! That boy amazes me.”

“Yes, yes, I totally agree. It shocked me to learn that he had been dumped, but I suppose when one is as busy as Shindou, it can be hard to make a partner feel cared for.”

The back of King’s neck was already a little irritated from the tight fit of his collar, and it was getting more and more red by the way he was fidgeting with it. “Hmm. Well. I’m sure he’ll find someone else soon. It isn’t hard to come up with reasons why someone would like him, for sure.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” A comfortable silence settled between them with the agreement, and then a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Musa put the purple pencil down. King cleared his throat.

“Huh?” Shindou looked terrified, all the pressure of being put on the spot. Musa and King were kneeling before him, formally with pin straight backs, as he gripped his notes for class before him like a shield. “Pick between the two of you? Me?”

“Yes. We’ve decided that we would like to have the privilege of dating you, as we both like you very much.” King was glad that Musa had taken it upon himself to do the confessing for both of them, but the way Musa was prostrating himself made him feel a little inadequate. After all, he was older than both of them - did that somehow count to his advantage? But Shindou rarely seemed to be affected by class year hierarchies. “So, please choose which of us you’d like to date.”

“Oh…” Shindou glanced over at King, expecting him to break form and assure them that it was all a joke, just a casual way to keep things fun in the house. Now King was wondering if he ought to have stayed in his suit as he kept his hands flat over his knees; Shindou did say once that he looked quite fetching in a tie. Shindou was one of the few underclassmen that he thought was worth their mettle, and it had made him feel good to hear that he was looking formidable when he was facing interview panels. He hadn’t dwelled much on the thought that Shindou might think of him in the privacy of his own room, but it was a tantalizing thought.

“I’m serious about this,” King said, after it became painfully clear that Shindou was waiting for him to say something. “Uh, I mean...we’re serious about this.” It wasn’t fair to Musa, who had spoken for the both of them, for him to advocate only for himself.

“Would it help if we pitched to you why you should choose each of us?” Musa perked up. “I can walk you through my classifications. We can apply a purely rational model…”

“Oy, oy...you’re putting me at a theoretical disadvantage here…”

“No...uh...how can I choose? You’re one of my best friends and you’re one of my respected upperclassmen...I’m very flattered that you both feel that way about me, though I have to say this is a bit of a surprise...I can’t say I saw this coming.”

“Maybe we should have given you a warning,” King suggested. “Like...maybe send you a text, or slip a note under your door.”

“That’s surprisingly romantic of you, King! But also, we don’t expect you to choose right away; I’m sure you must need time to think and decide.”

Shindou was fidgeting, like he had a current running through his blood. King thought he was getting disgustingly sappy that he found that charming, as Musa must have thought as well with the warm look he was giving Shindou. “Ah...I don’t know if giving me more time will really help.”

Musa clapped his hands together, startling both King and Shindou. It was appropriate that the boy thousands of miles away from home would have nerves of steel when it came to romantic propositions. “Oh! How inconsiderate of us. Perhaps it was my naivety and the fact that you always are accommodating of us - King, let’s withdraw. We never considered that Shindou might not even be interested in us.”

If he hadn’t been mortified before, he definitely felt complete embarrassment now. Shindou was nice, probably one of the nicest boys he knew - and it would be unheard of for him to outwardly reject them. It had been such a spur of the moment decision the two of them had made in the kitchen, only giving the time it took for him to change out of his suit to reconsider making the declaration and deciding to give it a go anyway. Such a direct attack put Shindou in an uncomfortable position of having to deflect politely. “Oh...yeah. So sorry about this...we clearly didn’t think it through. Forget about all this, just pretend it never happened…”

“No, you don’t understand.” Shindou hung his head, still gripping his notes for dear life. Though they couldn’t see his face, the tops of his ears were bright pink. “It’s just...do I have to choose?”

Musa, predictably, recovered first. “You mean...you’ll have both of us?”

“Well...mmm...that is, if I can have my cake and eat it too. I’m not the only person involved, so it would depend if...if you two were also okay with it…” Shindou was starting to sink deep into himself, growing shy and hunching over to avoid making eye contact while he was suggesting the set-up. “I think...I can’t pick, I like you both equally and for different reasons, so...I can commit to both of you.”

Musa was silent. This was why he wasn’t getting any job offers, King considered. He couldn’t take initiative - but what Shindou proposed was so bold, he needed time to process. Shindou was alluring in his own right, and King had to admit that Musa intrigued him, as someone who didn’t have a low center of gravity and somewhat gangly limbs. “King,” Musa said, and King held his breath too. “I would be...honored to be a part of this with you.”

King blinked as Shindou looked up, his mouth opening in surprise. “Uh...yeah. Same, I guess. The more the merrier.”

“I must say, this is very new to me, so I’m sure we’d need to figure out how it all works and everything but - wow.” Musa grinned. “This is what college is, isn’t it? Expanding horizons and having new experiences.”

“It is new,” King agreed.

Shindou deflated completely, relief making him as boneless as if he had done his long run in record time. “Ooh,” he groaned, lying on the floor of his room. “That was the most nerve-wracking thing I’ve done and said in a really long time.” Musa was looking at him now, curiously, and King couldn’t decipher it until Musa turned away and crawled over to where Shindou was still on his back. “This house is going to kill me one day--oh.” Musa had pressed a kiss to his cheek, chastely, but moved to his neck and now Shindou was squirming as Musa ran a hand slowly down his slide. “Mmm...wait a second…” Now Musa’s hand had slipped between Shindou’s legs, the movement making the boy knock his knees together instinctively. The sight was bringing a cold sweat to the back of King’s neck and in his hands and a swirling of something not unpleasant in the base of his stomach. Musa’s hand was moving, though it was a bit hard to see with how Shindou was squeezing his thighs together, gasping softly.

“K-King,” Shindou mumbled, and King shot to attention, ready to intervene, his body betraying his concern by staying rooted in place. “Get...get over here….”

Musa had told him the same thing, nonverbally. King made his way over, watching the way Shindou was biting his lip as Musa sucked a bruise on where his neck met his shoulder, his hand still kneading softly and King stared transfixed as the hand undid the button and pushed down the zipper so he could slip his hand underneath Shindou’s underwear and -

“King,” Shindou said, and King turned quickly back to face him. “Kiss me.” He was being completely unengaged, and if he didn’t get his head in the game, he was going to be outpaced by a couple of younger kids. Shindou’s lips were a little chapped, which became the least important thing he noticed as Shindou began gasping against his mouth, swallowing a whimper. It was hot, to say the least. King thought about how just hours ago, he had been wandering in a room full of booths for companies he was scrambling to just get a second look at him and now - they said, when one door closes, another opens. Then, he stopped thinking.   

#kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #run with the wind #sakaguchi youhei #musa kamala #sugiyama takashi #canadino fic #my headcanon has musa being west african and i welcome someone to tell me differently

[freechoicedreamer]

Body and Soul (Ch. 9)

AO3

Opening Theme

*

“The individual inwardly cultivated feelings of helplessness and loneliness, for he lost touch with his more human dimension, failed to broaden his virtues, and thus became unable to interact with the same essential aspects of other people. It is this process that he calls social alienation, hidden behind one's personas, yet capable of exerting a sinister impact on Humanity. At the same time that man advances materially, he moves further and further from other beings. Thus, the longed-for freedom becomes a frightening trap from which he tries to escape through the conquest of financial resources and the war for power, through absolute passivity towards authoritarianism, or through the path of social conformism. Thus, man can pretend to own something, or to own someone, for in this way he feels that he is not alone. The psychoanalyst believes that acceptance of the other and his inner treasure, the practice of solidarity and working together, the exercise of brotherhood and the institution of social comfort can offer humanity a viable way out of this tragic situation created by man himself.”

(based on Erich Fromm’s Fear of Freedom)

*

Enchanted Mountains, Arendelle

The saying ‘You are not alone’ has never been so well applied to what Killian, Emma, Key, Emm, Liam and Milah are experiencing. Nested in a warm and friendly environment, to where they headed after the early morning meeting, they prepare to cross the underground rivers in an atmosphere filled with Love.  

In fact, a large group is gathered in the still private hall of Arendelle's Shelter, at Elsa's palace, sharing knowledge and bringing emotional comfort to the six bearers of Light, Peace and Love in the upcoming fight: one grandmother - Ruth; six parents - Wish Snow, Wish David, Snow, David, Alice and Wish Brennan; three brothers - Senior, Junior and Neal; two sisters-in-law - Wish Regina and Wish Ariel; two sons - Henry and Wish Henry; three daughters-in-law - Cindy, Violet and Robyn, two daughters - Alice and Hope; one granddaughter - Lucy; and lots of friends with their closed ones - Elsa, Gideon, Anna, Kristoff, Ingrid, Merlin, Belle, Rumple, Nemo, Ursula, Archie, Lily, Aunt Em, Dorothy, Gepetto, Granny, Red, Wish Granny, Wish Red, Wish Mulan, Blue, Wish Blue and… Luna and Missy.

...

"This - the company of people pulsating and radiating the purest love energy - is the most powerful preparation and support you could receive, my dear," Wish Snow explains, combing her daughter's golden hair.

Wish David, watching them from a sofa, smiles, impacted by the scene. "We've been watching you Emma, we've been loving you from afar, but being here, so close to you, being able to touch you again… it's such a privilege and honor, my little love... and knowing that you are pregnant with twins  that just reminds me of my brother and I and… I-, oh Sweet Honey Pie, my dear Emma, this is so wonderful…  I-..." He barely holds a sob before Emm reaches out to hug him, also crying. Circling them with her arms, Wish Snow struggles hard to speak, "its alright to cry, Charming and Emma, especially you, Emma, because of the hormones! Look, here is the plan: we do this now, we cry, while they haven't been born yet and we have time to cry because soon you and Killian, on Earth, and your father and I, in Heaven, will only have time to look after the two precious treasures. Never forget, dear daughter, that we will always find a way to send our spiritual protection to all of you."

"Right, right, your Majesty, great plan - you are the Boss, my love," W. David composes himself before standing up to walk away, leaving them back to their mother-and-daughter moment.

...

As the hours advances, the rapport between everyone also progresses and so do the preparations for an event that nobody knows yet when will happen. "We will sense it," Aunt Em/Athena and W.Snow/Zeus keep repeating like a mantra, despite the anxiety felt by some. "Patience is a Virtue," explains Rumple, in vain, to Anna...

Mama Alice has taken both Emmas to a corner of the huge hall where they lie on large pillows on the floor to receive magnetic passes applied by the healing and regenerating magic of Apollo channeled by her. Snow and Wish Snow, encouraged by Alice, have joined her and are, under the Emissary's guidance, applying Reiki-like passes to their daughters. "The more the merrier," Alice explains to the two zealous mothers.

Relatively close to them, in another side room of the grand hall, Nemo, Merlin, Gideon and Liam work on both Killians' prosthesis so that their batteries will be able to recharge magically.

"After the battle, Little Brothers," Liam insists on teasing them but they decided to pretend they don't care - and deep down they don't, "I still want to work a little harder on these prosthesis - to make them even closer to the originals, you will feel, practically, as if your hands were back to where they should never have left..."

"The original hands have been preserved by magic, did you know that?" Gideon tells Liam. “One of them I already have in my lab, the other one I suppose is tucked away in Wish Rumple’s Castle, if you have time, take a look. "

"I will, I will... you know, having the original hands is much easier," Liam replies, excited about the possibility.

"You know Liam," Killian speaks thoughtfully, "as painful and hard as it has been, in perspective it may not be correct to say that our hands should not have been cut off. That's because losing them was instrumental in the narrative that brought us all here..."

"Aye," Key agrees. "And after so many centuries, so many Destiny crossroads, so much suffering, so many vows of vengeance and piracy precisely because of you and, later, because of our left hands and, most importantly, because of Milah, who would say, Older Brother, but here we are, witnessing the birth of love between you and Milah..." he winks at Killian and they both smile at how Liam blushes.

“We are truly happy for you both, Liam,” Killian then assures him patting his back.

“You have no idea how much,” Key confirms thoughtful. “After all, now we see, it was indeed Milah's fate to find true love with a Jones, it's sort of a poetical irony, a plot twist written by the Fates…”

“I hope you are right Killian, and… Key,” Liam blushes even more, struggling a bit to admit his feelings, “she is really special - you knew that already, and beautiful, and passionate and... I hope especially for her you are right, she deserves eternal happiness and that came to her after finding Peace with her two Baelfires. But let me tell you, the rest in peace concept does not imply that we won't evolve or that changes won't happen. Proving that, now there is this new development..." he sighs shyly, "she got close to a true love, that first time with you, but we all know how much it wasn't meant to be in the big picture. Now this time… though I must let you know that it's different, somehow, in comparison to when we fall in love on Earth...  That is, despite our temporary physical bodies we are just souls, spirits, Milah and I. Of course, the essence of Love, in other words, True Love, would happen for us, something meant to be, whenever or wherever dimensional plan we might be, therefore what is happening between us is really true in a deep sense. But as souls, for us, falling in love now is more… subtle, serene, it's a deep calmness though quite intense and elevated on its own.” He finally opens up and ends up laughing with his brothers in a more relaxed way.

Approaching them, Brennan, and the other Liams - Junior and Senior, complete the family team, as they continue with Gideon, Merlin and Nemo, to improve the  prosthesis mechanisms, now impregnated with magic.

"Hey Guys! I want to register this moment," Wish Ariel, self declared the photographer of the family,  gets close to the group, taking pictures of the Joneses Men.

"Love is in the air…" turning his head slightly to whisper, Brennan confides to Nemo who smiles back and nods.

…

As Aunt Em and Belle intended, right after lunch, with the empathy brought by the loving environment, everyone is already openly discussing the strategies for Day 6 - without even realizing it, a silent, tacit understanding has established that the fight between couples will take place within around 48 hours.

Hope circles from group to group, excitedly running with Missy in the huge hall where everyone is seated. Luna preferred to stay on Lucy's lap while she talks intently with her parents and Neal.

"We should ask for permission for Roland and Coralline to come here," Lucy argues, "because we were outlining an activity suggested by Aesop that could be attached to Em's orchestra alignment performance. We knew from the call for musicians in all realms that she planned to work on arranging a song and would do some online rehearsals, at first, with the selected musicians - mostly young adults. Then we thought and talked about that and… we believe that preteens and teens could contribute with an act created and performed by us. We have had a lot of ideas and inspirations... "

"Yes," Neal confirms, "and I'm feeling a lot of inspiration here in the Enchanted Mountains, as if my magic is being bred by an ancestral energy related to this place - I mean, something coming from the land that has been here for ages. That is, before Arendelle moved here bringing its own ancestral energy to add to the one that already existed, something impregnated in deeper roots... I really need to talk to Blue and Gideon about this feeling of mine."

"So let's talk to Em about the preteens and teens’ activities and to David about the permits," Cindy suggests.

"And Daddy," Lucy turns to Henry. "I think we need your help with the texts we were researching on our Shelter. During a quick visit that King Fergus gave us, he suggested that we rehearse a sort of jester on top of a text. And Aesop suggested we look for a text like a metaphor for what we're living in. But what we have done so far is getting too long, we need to define the narrative and summarize the story better..."

"I'm available to help you," Henry strokes his daughter's hair. "Perhaps the magic pen can help, it is inspiring for writing summaries of complex narratives."

…

At the end of Day 4, more Emissaries and friends have joined the party : summoned by Emm after having agreed to expand the Alignment Performance Program, Fergus, Aesop, Marian and Roland responded promptly, as well as Split Regina, Wish Robin and Coralline. In addition, at the requests of Gepetto and Roland - which resulted in an excellent contribution to the youth group - two members of the Arendelle Teens Shelter, August Pinocchio and Anastasia, also joined the creative group.

…

Having had dinner in the Shelter refectory, they are all back to their Hall, organized in eight working teams: The Savior; The Aligner; The Survivors; The Canals’ Crossing; The First Battle; The Castle Unlocking; The Army Arrival; The Final Battle.

Indifferent, in a direct sense, to all activities, throughout the day Hope, Luna, and Missy have taken several naps on the cushions, placed especially for them in a quieter corner of the Grand Hall, alternating their naps with being extremely alert and awake. Mainly from their dreams they witnessed the unfolding of a memorable day in diverse conversations...

...

"Emma," Marian got close to the trio formed by David, Snow and their daughter, "before Wish Snow comes to apply Zeus's passes on you - they will be important to enhance your lightning magic power - I want to offer you a piece of advice. Make maximum use of this friendly atmosphere surrounding you. As a Savior, you must work to internalize the feeling and energy of Family in a broad, all-encompassing sense: the Human Family where everyone is joined by the feeling of equality - equal rights and access to happiness, which explains your deep sense of Justice. Human Fraternity is the basis of your power as a Savior, my dear…"

...

"Henry," Hope called her brother. "Yeah, my little sister?" Henry bent to become at eye level with her.

"Watch your Pen!!" She smiled, enigmatic, already running away.

"What the hell?!" Henry asked, but soon got his answer, in the form of a fresh new riddle:

"Through the Elders' drums, Freedom. Through the Youngers' dreams, Legend. Through the Moon, Wolf. Through the Eyes, Soul."

Smiling, Henry closed the book, searching for his daughter and her friends . Wish Red and Red, wearing their magic hoods but sensing the energies under their skins, also joined them.

…

"Father, Mother," Gideon and Elsa approached Rumple and Belle already blushing before starting to speak. "You know that what Elsa and I are living is new but we feel it is true as in… a true love. So it is forever and, then… we wanted your formal blessing for our union before you go back to the Elysium Fields and…"

"We have just talked to my aunt, Ingrid, and she loved the idea," Elsa explained, also blushing. "We still need to figure out our living arrangements, even so our castles are relatively close but we have our duties and, you know how these things are, don't you?"

Smiling at their display of shyness, Belle smiled warmly with affection. "You two are so cute!! Of course  we will bless you. Hopefully everything will happen as we believe they will but we have a war to win first. Let's focus on that!"

"Gideon, you mother is representing the god of War!! Would you be able to imagine greater irony than that?" And with Rumple's joke they all relaxed and ended up in a family hug .

…

"Killians," Emma called her pirate and his twin.

"Aye, Swan."

"Archie has just made contact- he and Zorro are temporarily in charge of the Teleport Center, by the way, because Chynna and the Dragons are in a field trial experiment for capturing invasive souls. So, he  wanted to notify that five elders, Shamans according to them, from the Land without Magic, have just arrived at the Dragons' Castle declaring they came to the United Realms after receiving a call for help from Mother Earth. Ah! They teleported themselves using their own magic and seem to be speaking the truth. Archie explained that he doesn't have any technical means for detecting a glamour spell or any other kind of magic trick, but he is good on human psyche and for him the five men are being honest. They know about the Aligner existence, apparently, because they asked about her whereabouts. Then, Archie has asked permission for giving them Arendelle's coordinates - they don't need assistance with the teleport."

"That's intriguing… Have you talked to your father, love?"

"Not yet, he is busy in a call to Agrabah but we have autonomy to decide..."

"I think we should grant them the free pass because here we have plenty of people able to detect any magic trick... you said they call themselves Shamans, don't you?  I suspect they are coming for the Alignment Ceremony," Key proposed, already looking for his wife."

...

"I'm not an expert, this is more an Alice's - perhaps also Ruth's - thing," Ingrid explained to Anna and Kristoff as she touched Anna's belly, "but I'm sensing a little boy on the way…" she smiled at the joy in the new parents to be faces.

"A boy!!" Kristoff exclaimed in awe.

And the strong blond man lifted Anna's apparently fragile body and spun her around at the sound of her giggles. Suddenly realizing she was pregnant, he stopped her in the air and immediately set her back down with the care of the one who carries the most fragile Chinese porcelain.

'I'm still myself, Kris," she composed herself, smiling, "I won't break..."

Merlin neared Anna and Kristoff's celebration exchanging glances with Ingrid, as if talking telepathically with her. "Love will always be victorious, my friend," Ingrid comforted him and, excusing themselves with Anna and Kristoff,  the two walked away, continuing their silent conversation, arm in arm, leaving the young couple dreaming, enraptured by the prospect of parenting .

In the middle of their conversation, David and Milah approached Ingrid and Merlin with a message to Merlin sent by Lancelot, who was in charge of the Security in the prison where the revived clones were being kept. It all happened discreetly and quickly. Without alarming, with acknowledgment of just a few people and Emissaries, Merlin and Milah went away in two secret missions, promising to be back as soon as possible.

...

"She is very excited about the theoretical advances that Gideon has made after Rumple and Belle showed him where they kept his notes and her books with  studies on the separation body-soul." Split Regina and Wish Robin shared the news about Regina with Henry, Cindy and Wish Regina.

"When did you visit her?" Cindy asked.

"Today, right after lunch," W. Robin replied. "The doctor, Whale, has promised to discharge her tomorrow morning, "just one more night at the hospital," he said, "because I value my sanity and this woman will still drive me insane from insisting about going back to work!""

"Typical of my mom and you..." Henry whispered, smiling tenderly at Split Regina. "Cindy, she should stay with us, we'll find a way to host her. In both houses - ours and hers - there's a working shelter, but she needs us..."

"Sure, the rooms in the house are being used but our closet is so large that it can very well accommodate a single bed, a bedside table and a small desk without taking away our privacy, and our clothes can be stored in suitcases," Cindy agreed already thinking on practicalities, "it's better she stays with us even by the proximity to the hospital. I imagine Whale will want her heart to be returned  to her chest there... not to mention that I have a feeling Operation B&S is about to be completed soon."

"With total success, I hope, Split Regina wished, looking at  her daughter laughing with her friends.. .

…

"And what are the two Captains Charming laughing about?" Liam and Milah, she already back from her mission, asked, approaching Killian, David, Key, and W. David.

"Nothing in particular," David replied, "just remembering some of the adventures Killian and I have lived together, such as the time we followed a spell recipe!"

"Join us," Key invited them showing the rum flask."We have rum and room for two more!"

…

"After W. Blue presented Fa with a magic wand whose sole power is to transform Jiminy back into human form and then back into cricket, the two became impossible!" W. Red revealed.

"Damn you, they didn't tell us anything..." Granny commented to W. Granny and Gepetto.

"Ah…" W. Mulan smiled, "deep down they are shy. But watching them sunbathing on the porch with their eyes closed and holding hands as they sway on the porch swing is like looking at a beautiful painting…"

...

From the center of the circle, Emm, Fergus and Aesop instructed the attentive audience comprising Lucy, Neal, young Alice, Robyn, August, Anastasia, Wish Henry, Violet, Red and Wish Red about the rehearsals of which they will take part in the next day.

…

"Killian, Key," W. Snow approached them, seizing their chance to be alone. "This is me, speaking as a mother, but also in the name of Zeus. It will be your nature, as Survivors... Poseidon, through Rumple, can explain to you in more detail how that works - talk to him about it later, if you feel the need of a better understanding of technatilities - but as I was saying, it will be up to you to survive and protect your wives. Yours is the defensive magic. Your wives have the more offensive magic, especially the Savior. The Aligner will stay behind because that's the natural order of their powers: one ensures Happy Endings/Beginnings and the other ensures Happy Livings. I have applied special magnetic passes to both which enhanced their lightning strikes - combined, acting together, they may be able to disintegrate souls just like Zeus' Crystal used to do. And Key, don't worry, the babies are totally safe and protected, surrounded by special spells. Your mother, and Apollo, have already made sure of that. So... you both will ensure that your Emmas survive the attacks that they will suffer."

"I see, but… Now, you try to see from our angle. We are practical beings, you know," Key argued and turned to Killian, "and as our mother uses to say, ours is a Mathematician's mind. But we are also experienced captains. That means that despite being able to dig into conceptual abstractions, we need to know how the concrete applications they are meant for will be implemented…"

"Exactly, precisely. In other precise and exact words,  what do we have to do, more specifically? Please?" Killian then asked exasperated.

"Always stay close to them. Your power lies in your intuition and it only manifests with full intensity in the Present. Therefore, neither Zeus nor any oracle is so powerful to anticipate your action. But know that you will know what to do, acting in perfect timing - this our Oracles have foreseen."

Both Killians nodded, circumspect.

...

At the end of the long day Elsa offered the palace for all to spend the night and they thought it would be good to accept the offer, remaining united for more hours in that same place - "it will resemble a large camping area" , someone remembered. They were deciding where to spread more pillows and blankets across the floor when Midas/Morpheus and Farah/Demeter arrived sharing the news: they had sensed, in the Dream Realm and in the Vegetable Realm, the vibrations of  strongly dark activities coming from not too far from where they are. Probably from Wish Rumple’s castle.

“We suspect that the four villains have already managed to break the connection between Wish Pan and Wish Cruella and their clones, which allowed the souls of Pan and Cruella to incarnate in the clones,” Midas tells them, “which would be the only reasonable way to explain the extremely intense and unusual vibrations of highly distorted and perverted activities identified by Morpheus and his two brothers affecting and interfering in the Dreams Realm - with potential for disturbing everybody's sleep tonight, besides creating a negative vibration for the Animals, Vegetables and Mineral Kingdoms.”

"That makes sense, for them managing to break the connection" Rumple mumbles, "all they had to do was to find in Wish Rumple's castle the notes and books similar to mine and Belle's and develop their technique based on them."

“Well then, our response to that must be with stronger and more intense activities of Light, Peace and Love,” Ingrid says, discreetly winking at Ruth but her gesture did not escape the attentive gossip supporters (as Henry had labeled them) Killian, Key, David and Cindy. Immediately after, Ingrid asks Elsa to call the string quartet musicians that, as Elsa and Emm had told her earlier that day, were housed in the palace’s shelter.

…

Short after Ingrid's suggestion…

“Mommy, Daddy,” Hope, waking up from another nap, calls her parents, “I was with Luna and Missy flying over there, in the sky, and they asked to tell you that when the North Wind blows wide… no, that was not what they said, please, help me Daddy, It was not 'wide', so then what…?”

“Hmm... Would be wildly, my little pirate?” Killian tries to guess.

“Aye! that, Papa! when the North Wind blows wildly and the snow falls, then you, Mama, Uncle Key, Aunt Emm, Uncle Liam and Aunt Milah must go.”

“Very well", Rumple, approaches Hope turning to everyone watching the little girl while winking at her - she giggles.

“We have our clue, Dearies.” Many of those present stop what they were doing and look surprised after hearing the peculiar pronoun, once favored by the former Dark One. Rumple smiles sideways, pleased by the intended effect, that is, to draw everyone's attention. “Listen carefully, everyone, we know what we have to do, and right now, what we have to do is relax and… dance!” He then signalizes a command for the string quartet, already positioned high in the balcony, to play...

As the music sounds in the grand hall, everybody - old couples, new couples, old dancers, young dancers, in pairs, in a solo - start to waltz, lulled by the harmonic and smooth vibrations. Blue and Wish Blue, morphing into little fairies, flutter around spreading pixie dust, and even Hope, Missy and Luna flutter giggling, barking and meowing through the air, spreading their happiness - it's not known if Luna and Missy are flying by their own magic or by Hope's magic, but the fact is that the Light, Love and Peace emanating from the hall with all dancers and couples who, as the song advances, play of switching pairs in a choreography marked by grace and lightness, neutralize and overcome the negative effects generated by the two diabolic couples mating wildly nearby, at Wish Rumple’s Castle.

Enchanted Forest, Wish Evil Queen's Castle

While the main leaders were gathered in Arendelle, in one of the many fortresses isolated for hosting hibernating clones - 50 thousands in this case - the Shelter Guardians, Will Scarlet and his wife, Norah, spent the morning hearing weird noises and feeling goosebumps - despite the heating from all fireplaces and their bodies' isolation provided by the rubber clothes.

"Might be those Souls that crossed the path to Earth. I bet that, somehow, the shelter isolation had holes and they got in through them. Time to ask for help, Will, try to contact the Dragon…"

"Why him in particular, Norah?"

"Oir bha e gu math coibhneil nuair a bha e an seo agus a ’tabhann cuideachadh nam biodh feum againn air rud sam bith…"

(*Because he was very kind when he came here and offered help if we needed something…)

"Norah, chan eil e gu feum a bhith a ’bruidhinn mu dheidhinn Albannaich Gàidhlig - ma tha na fuaimean sin air an adhbhrachadh le taibhsean chan e an iomlaid cànain a chuireas an t-eagal orra."

(*Norah, it's no use talking in Gaelic scots - if these noises are really caused by ghosts it won't be the language change that will scare them off.)

"Alright, alright, but call him, please, Will."

"That I'll do, then, luv…"

"I love you, Husband!" Norah sends him a kiss through her veil.

…

"What is that?" Asks Will to Maleficent, who flew there with Jiao-long, Chynna and Lily (leaving Zorro and Archie in charge of the Teleport Center) upon receiving Norah and Will's call for help .

"A device, kind of a magic trap developed by Chynna under her father's supervision as soon as the news regarding the souls invasions were confirmed. It hasn't been tested yet - so we are not sure about its efficacy. I'll skip the more technical details but It requires three dragons - flying counter clockwise in a circle holding these sonars emitting a frequency out of your spectral hearing range, and three people on the ground, holding the magic traps."

"So you need our help at ground level," Will realizes.

"Exactly, and that's why Chynna came with us, to complete the triangle. If these devices work as expected, every time we need to use them we will have to make sure that there are at least three people available to operate the traps. And I guess we will need to use them a lot,  given the number… they said that thousands of souls had escaped, remember?"

…

"Hold on tight! Whatever happens, don't undo the triangulation down there, open the lid of the box when we get to the top and only close it when we land back!!" Jiao-long shouts at Will, Chynna and Norah, positioned outside the castle in a triangle-shaped formation, as he Mal and Lily, already morphed into dragons, begin a low-flying spiraling upward to the tips of the castle spears, with the sonars slung around their necks.

...

"What is going on here?" Milah asks Norah, getting out of a ray of light and intending to enter the castle.

"We're trying to trap the rebel souls that managed to enter the castle!" Chynna shouted, from one of the other three vertices, high enough to be heard by Milah.

"Oh, I see…" Milah/Persephone answers, looking at the three dragons in flight and figuring out their experiment.

Shouting back she lets them know that she will enter with two people, about to  arrive from Agrabah - "don't worry, we will be properly protected to avoid skin contact with the clones."

She then explained that they would use a locating spell to find a specific clone but promised to work without disturbing their soul-trapping experiment. Next, she contacted Charom telepathically, asking him to hold on at the banks of the Styx and wait, with the soul he was about to bring to Earth, until receiving her green signal to continue.

…

Running in parallel and without any major unforeseen events, both operations ended successfully. Taking advantage of Charom's arrival, Milah managed to coordinate with him and the Dragons a third operation: the return of all souls (captured by the new devices just tested and approved for use wherever necessary) to the Underworld, where Persephone and Arthur would make sure to keep them locked as prisoners.

Finally, with Jiao-long's help, the localized clone was carefully transported to Gideon's lab, along with the two travelers that came  from Agrabah. The two urns, brought by Charom, were taken there by Milah, Merlin and his companions: gradually, everyone and everything getting ready for next day's "experiments"...

Storybrooke, Tremaine-Mills home

Dawn brought with it the need for changes, including the move of those who were gathered in Arendelle to their next destinations: united by the common goal but aware of the diversity of positioning and strategic actions. So after saying goodbye to Lucy and her friends, who followed Emm, Fergus, Aesop, Wish Red, Red, the five shamans and several musicians of all realms to Westside Storybrooke, Henry Mills and Cinderella Tremaine returned home from where they would await Regina's arrival.

Sitting in front of his laptop, Henry updates his diary, registering random thoughts he might use later in his new book, while Cindy, by his side, coordinates permits to transport a lot of people to Westside Storybrooke.

Henry Mills' Personal Log

"Day 5 of the Emissaries on Earth

We are waiting for her return from the hospital, my mother… the one who raised me in this same house where I live with my wife and daughter, this same house created by her, then, dark magic, fruit of her own particular mess. And despite her messy mind, then, she managed to love me and raise me well perhaps because of what happened out of the bubble, where she tried so hard to keep me in, got out of her tight control and triggered what has always been meant to be...

From the perspective of Time, today I can understand how my True Believer nature played a leading role in my peculiar childhood - it saved me, ensured my sanity. When everything seemed confusing because the references around me were subjected to a Frozen Time and did not provide the support expected from a 'reference' supposed to guide the physical, psychological and emotional growth I was experiencing, my True Believer's nature came in my help and rescued me. Somehow I believed, somehow I knew that sooner or later it would all make sense, that I would have to wait and, when necessary, act. I was not able to rationalize this way, but I sensed deep down that there was a higher mechanism in motion, that the gears of Time were moving even when apparently broken (to everyone in Storybrooke except me), stopped by a dark curse that I wasn't, then, aware of.

Emotional references were the most confusing, on second thought, because despite living fake biographies and characters, the cursed people surrounding me, involuntary actors in a forced role-play where their true identity was subtracted - except for my mother, of course - preserved in some sleeping corner of their mind and heart the essence of what they never ceased to be. The most ironic thing was that I relived the story with shifted roles where my Lucy, another True Believer, was the one aware of a parallel reality subtracting our true lives - except for the two Belfrays and Goethel, initially. My grandpa Rumple was always quick to 'awake' from the curses, though...

But back to my childhood, my step mother, Regina, did love me in the best way she could, I knew she cared about me and, sometimes, with display of tenderness, but she was not an adept of affectionate words - I came to know them when I got old enough to go to School and attended Mary Margareth's classes: that was when the gears really started to incipiently be prepared to move. With her I learned to use the emotional language as a way of expressing feelings and emotions, as well as being a channel of connection with other people. I learned that, on many occasions, to understand each other in interpersonal relationships is sufficient an expression of affection, emotional, feeling or, in other words, showing what we have inside. My grandmother introduced me to the world of affections and to The Book… "

"Have you listened to any word of my question?"  Cindy smiles at him.

"Ah!? Oh, no… Sorry… I was too concentrated. Could you repeat it, please?"

"I asked at what time the Ceremony will start. People are asking..."

"Ah… I'm not sure and I guess nobody is, yet. I know I will join the rehearsals, taking the two Grannys with me, after lunch. I guess it will be around 9:00 pm. From a technical point of view, Nemo and the Dragon need the whole day to instal special repeaters in the telecom towers, replacing the ones in operation throughout the entire United Realms and also distribute new big screens in all shelters. For this task, helping Lily and Mal, Phileas Fogg and Passepartout will provide aerial support piloting their two airships, while Killian and Key will provide maritime and river support piloting their two Jolly Rogers. Not to mention that Red and W. Red will need the whole day to gather their pack and only then they will define their best timing - they need a specific Full Moon timing. And, of course, the artists and production staff will need hours of rehearsal…"

"Oh, I see, I will answer with a generic around 9:00pm  then. Thanks, my love, go back to your log..."

"You're always welcome, Honey."

…

Sighing slowly, Henry reads the last paragraphs before continuing...

"Deep down, when she was alone with me at home, my mother expressed her affection behind her façade, her persona, her Storybrooke Mayor profile, hiding her other persona, her Evil Queen mask. That is, if we define affection as all expressions that show the other how we feel when we are together, but also far away, or the desires we have for that other - she showed that to me.

However, no doubt that as a kid I have not been taught by her to communicate this way, because often she did not use this affective communication - as if she did not consider it important, even though it is actually fundamental to human relationships.

After the curse was broken, along the years that followed it, my mother and I perfected the use of affectionate words in our relationships that are full of feeling, soul, desire, content and meaning. Robin Hood represents in my mom's life the moment she really started to overcome her difficulty of expressing affection. He was her professor of showing also with words, putting out what she felt, making their relationship different and special. Her change after him was remarkable, I know she found it difficult, weird, ridiculous and even unusual to do so, because she often learned with her mother not to show what she had inside and to hide her feelings because she thought this would be a sign of weakness…

My Mom, Regina, is still healing from her traumas and difficulties based on a misconception of emotional hardness and a lack of emotional upbringing through which she should have taken the basis for teaching me to express my affections and to manage my emotions. I was lucky in finding my other Mom, Emma. I was lucky in rescuing my true origin - that prevented me from knowing the pain for not expressing myself.

By one side, my upbringing based on wrong beliefs kept screaming in my mind that by being insensitive and ignoring my feelings I would be less exposed to the pain and suffering that they can cause us. But on the other side, Emma Swan taught me the contrary (not always voluntarily), especially when she blocked her emotions and raised her defensensive mechanisms and walls. With her I learned that human reality is quite different, for pain is precisely what we feel when we do not express what we feel or when it is not communicated to us. With her I learned the power of affectionate words and we broke the first dark curse because of that. If I were taught to use affectionate words from early childhood, I would have known earlier how powerful they are, both by hearing and uttering them. They have the power to show our inner self and to bond with the inner self of the other."

Closing and opening his eyes, Henry turns to his wife, his Cinderella, with an urge to express the wave of love he felt for her, all of a sudden.

“I want you well, my wife, mother of my daughter... In fact, I love you dearly, Ella. Have I told you, today, that I feel special when I'm with you? Then, know that I'm happy by your side and that… you are the most special person I know!!"

Smiling her brightest smile, Cindy responds with a curious "what is going on, Henry Daniel Mills?" while reaching out to kiss him passionately.

"Hmm…" he answers savoring their hot kisses, "I felt an urge to express my feelings for you with words. Want to try this same exercise? Tell back what you are feeling…"

After thinking, foreheads touching, she replies with a smile, "okay… I feel good when you hear me."

"Well, I feel important when I hear you," he gives her back.

“Henry, I am at peace when I am near you...”

“I want to continue with you...”

“I always want to be able to count on you...”

“I want the best for you...”

"I want to hug you..."

"I feel loved by you...”

“I feel spoiled and… I think I've heard your phone, Henry, must be Whale.”

...

Regina is already settled in her improvised room, watching from her bed Henry and Cindy sharing a desk, both working on their laptops. "Updating your log, Henry?" She asks him with interest.

"Yeah… more a bit of musing rather than entering new data." He answers. "I was wondering about the power of healing coming from the power of affectionate words…"

"Ah, that, I like the sound of that: affection. I have thought a lot about this theme, lately… When we express our affection, we release emotions that sometimes overwhelm or block those who do not express them. If I only have known that earlier…" she sighs thoughtfully.

"Mom, loving words heal and unite those who use them, releasing the painful emotions and feelings that were at the root of silent suffering. Therefore, I want, I need you to know that I love you."

"We all love you, Regina." Cindy reinforces Henry's declaration, as they stand up, heading to Regina's corner for hugging her affectionately.

Enchanted Mountains, Gideon's Castle

Fortunately, the night passed in relative quiet, especially after Farah and Jasmine arrived in the private wing of Gideon's Castle. Only with their arrival did Aladdin finally breathe a sigh of relief since he could see with his own eyes that his beloved was indeed more flushed and restored from the sickness due to her pregnancy. His mother-in-law indeed took on the responsibility of treating her daughter with mysterious teas made from the herb mix that only she knew. "Trust me," Farah had told him, but even then his worry was inevitable.

Despite the relief, the major concern shared with Lancelot, which kept him company at night watch, remained. Few things scare Aladdin - a fearless man with self-esteem regained after healing from his guilt for cutting his fate as a Savior. But spending the night making sure that the two urns, brought by Milah,  containing two newcomer souls from the Underworld remained closed and untouched was too much. "Worse than being careful not to let a genius escape his lamp," he spent the night thinking.

To further increase insomnia, the presence of two prisoners, Wish Felix, whom he brought, and a cloned Sherazade, brought by David, Lancelot and Merlin, was more than too much. Particularly, the fake Sherazade, sedated under the effect of a soothing pass applied by Merlin, was the last straw to spill over the glass of courage. The knowledge of Nimue's presence, though anesthetized, was too disturbing for the alert minds of Lancelot, Guinevere (who arrived later to sympathize with her husband), Aladdin and Jasmine.

"The real Sherazade would entertain us by telling stories…" Jasmine whined, missing her cousin and best friend.

Despite the worry, Guinevere and Jasmine managed to relax and sleep because, fortunately, Farah stayed with them after going briefly to Arendelle to bring Midas with her for the nocturne vigil. Alternating their night watch with little naps, the others remained alert ("they have magic power, that counts...", Aladdin assured himself thinking about the two Emissaries).

…

Gideon and Belle arrive first - it is still dark in the late October morning, and are immediately greeted by all night watchers, already having breakfast.

"Where are the others?" An anxious Aladdin asks.

“They are coming soon,” Belle answers.

"I told him there was no need to worry so much, I asked him to relax ," Farah explains to Belle telepathically, "but he didn’t listen. I'm learning to never ask to relax, straight away, someone that is in such a state of nerves…" she chuckles.

"I see you…" Aladdin quickly reacts with a smart remark to Belle and Farah. "You are talking about me, aren't you? I know you are…"

"He's smart." Belle notices.

"Very much, a good observer." Farah agrees. "No wonder my daughter fell in love with him: good heart, great mind…"

"Still gossiping about me, I see." Aladdin complains with a pout and Jasmine laughs.

Turning to Lancelot and the others, Belle finally explains, "Rumple is coming soon, he made a detour in Storybrooke, a quick visit to old friends of us… And I think that Merlin, Milah, Ruth, Alice and W. Snow will follow him with negligible delay."

"Where are you keeping the clones?" Belle asks Gideon, looking around in her son's Lab.

"Over there," he points to two narrow beds in the right corner near which another ray of light shines, bringing Ruth and Merlin.

"Good morning, everyone," she says with a calm smile, already sensing the atmosphere and sending soothing waves towards Aladdin's direction.

…

Rumple arrived soon after and they have already started to assemble the setup for running the first series of trials: the one for simultaneously breaking the connection between Wish Felix and his clone, thus allowing Felix's soul to incarnate in the liberated clone.

"The procedure to be followed is completely described in my old notebook, probably the same used by Wish Pan and Wish Cruella with their own clones," Rumple explains. "We must follow it carefully or the original, Wish Felix, will die. We just need to wait for Milah, we need her help in dealing with Felix's soul..."

"Wait no more," says Milah coming with Wish Snow out of another ray. "Let's do it! Where is the urn containing the first soul?”

"Here," Belle passes the urn to her.

…

Wish Felix and Felix are both awake, but still groggy. The experiment was successful and they are under Alice's, who arrived later, and Ruth's care.  

"Are you done with us? No more exams? Now what?" Felix questions them with a mix of perplexity and insecurity.

"You are both in healthy - both physical and psychological - conditions. We are done with the exams," Alice tells them. "Now you wait, as everyone else, to meet those two old friends of yours. That will happen tomorrow."

"As soon as my son, Liam, with the help of his wife, Milah, manages to break the protection spell that is keeping those Pans, friends of these Felixes, from being reachable," Alice completes in thought.

"Wife, hein?" Ruth giggles, telepathically.

"Let's be practical and name correctly what they are to each other, my dear… You see, they were meant to be anyway but, between you and me, you and Ingrid gave them a little help, didn't you? Or better rephrasing, your divine patrons gave them a little push, haven't they?"

"I won't say no to that…" Ruth smiles.

"Now I'll call my granddaughter. Her wife, Robyn, and her brother-in-law, Roland, are with her in Storybrooke, rehearsing for tonight's ceremony, but they were eager to know the result of this operation - Robin Hood's resurrection depends on it."

"It still depends on breaking the connection with Regina's heart, don't raise their expectations too much ," Ruth advises.

"I won't, they are aware of the other risks but deserve to hear these good news… They know that walking requires one step after the other."

…

The preparations for the second and most challenging trial, since they developed the procedure based only on old books of Belle’s collection, are in progress. Meanwhile, in a small room adjacent to the lab, Merlin and Sherazade, aka Nimue, talk in private.

"Want to know what really moved me and made me give up until screaming and begging to Lancelot for allowing me to talk to you again, Merlin? I'll tell you if you explain to me what you have done to regain your physical body. No trick, just curious."

"It’s simple. Actually, my physical body is temporary, soon I'll be less dense again and will be back to my ethereal - and eternal  - subtle body; a soul is what I am, Nimue."

"I see… I will tell you, then, as promised, the truth. When I called you, in prison, you submitted me to a lie detection test and you came to the conclusion that I was really giving up, I really wanted to get out of this body. This body is my real prison, not the cell you locked me in. Sherazade's body is a healthy body - she was a pretty woman, still is, I guess. But I don't fit in it, I don't feel it as I expected. Hell, I can even touch it, trying to pleasure myself but… I feel nothing. I’m not a block of ice, though, something inside me, a residual memory that never left me, still feels and misses what I've been longing for ages. Perhaps, the coldness is blocked by something that belonged to her, I’m not sure, I’ve been dead for so long… But I never forgot the feeling... Ever.

For centuries, as a Dark One, the first in a long lineage of Dark Ones, I've been trying to feel again what I miss so much, what I’ve been longing for, but it never happened. All the power that my dark magic gave me has never been able to make me feel it again. I remember the feeling, though, the memory remains. In my secular life I had so many lovers, I took part of so many orgies and, of course, I did feel a temporary pleasure, a physical orgasm, but something was always lacking… after each orgasm what came was always an emptiness, a void and like in addition, I wanted more, I always searched for another dose of the drug…

I thought that coming back to the physical world would change things. I’ve tried before, coming back, I mean. You know, when I used Dark Hook to kill you - you Merlin, the only man I truly loved.  And still do. There... there I said it. I love you. And I have, for millenniums, tried to feel again: to love and to be loved in the way we used to love each other... You have always been my true love and I hated you so much because of that. I hated you because you knew I would kill you, through Hook, and made it easier for me by starting to prepare the Dark course knowing that the final ingredient would be your own heart..."

"It was our Destiny, Nimue, I've never challenged the Fates."

'I know. I paid the price for learning the unfolding of your 'bits and pieces' of forsightings. But that happened so long ago, there is no way back for me now.

The fact is that I would do anything to get back to a living body again. I wanted to be able to get back to what I had with you. Perhaps things could be different if I inhabited a kind of Wish Nimue's clone, a kind of my own clone twice. I guess that would be better, maybe that would work. But in Sherazade’s body it is not working, not at all. Especially after you visited me in prison…

I know I’ll be sent back to Hell, to Tartarus, I’m aware of the consequences of what I’ve done. I’ve been too much in the dark side to nourish any kind of hope. I don’t hope. At all, but as I told you, I don’t care to be treated as a traitor by the other rebels, I don’t mind their judgment. Everything will be better than to live in this body.”

Someone knocks at the door but Merlin already knows who is there:  Wish Snow, channeling Zeus.

Asking telepathically for one minute more, Merlin looks into Nimue’s eyes. "It's time to go, Nimue. You have been for so long in the Dark side that for your soul there wouldn't be salvation anymore. But as they say, the most powerful magic that exists is Love. So, I ask you to never lose Hope. I know you need punishment, but you must know that there is no meaning for a punishment if it is not used as an instrument for redemption. Once upon a time you were not corrupted, once upon a time, your soul was not dark. Don’t lose hope, my love. You will rest for a while, maybe centuries, in the same urn that brought today another soul from the Underworld. You will be put under a kind of sleeping therapy and won’t suffer. You will undergo a long, very long therapy, but you will heal. The Nimue I knew and came to love still exists underneath the darkness that corrupted her soul, you have just proved that she is still there. Now, come with me.”

Standing up, Nimue takes his hand once more, and walks with him to the lab. “And to think that it all started because of a water goblet. It all started because I wanted to be immortal, just like you were, I wanted to drink a sacred water…” she smiles sadly.

Storybrooke, Brothers' Village

Leroy, as he prefers to be called, and W. Grumpy (“or simply Grumpy since my twin denied the name that registered our fight for love, humpf") got permission to marry Nova and Wish Nova shortly after the creation of the United Realms. Blue and Wish Blue finally agreed to allow the fairies, if they so desire, to date and relate sexually to whom and as they please without losing their magical powers - and their wings. With the weddings, and the move of the Wish dwarfs to Storybrooke, the 14 brothers built a village near the docks with 18 terrace houses. Three of the four extra houses were occupied by the sailors Smee, Wish Smee, and Kevin Smith and his wife, Laura, leaving only one empty house - “for our collective meals and meetings or eventual guests…”

…

"Could you please repeat - again - the riddle…?" Doc asks his twin, W. Doc, at the large breakfast table in the guest house.

"Okay, here I go again! Life is a grain of wheat who dies to be born as bread - from pixie dust we come, to pixie dust we will return ," W. Doc says what Henry's pen has written, the best and only clue they have, so far, that confirmed that their Pixie Dust mines are indeed the place for them to search for the Earth end in the Magic Fountain connection.

"The riddle reminds me," Smee speaks, "that I was going to have another slice of cheese and that, of course, requires more bread. So," and then he turns to Sleepy with a grin to ask mischievously, "could you be kind enough to pass the bread, please?"

"Once a mouse…" Leroy mumbles to be heard only by Nova, who discreetly kicks his legs from below the table.

"Everybody fixated on the Pixie Dust part..." Kevin wanders, "but have you ever thought that maybe the missing secret information concerns wheat and bread?"

"Yes ..." W. Nova agrees, "this part is still mysterious to me..."

“I think….” W. Happy smiles, “that I get it: Life is a grain of wheat means the seed of Life…”

“Yeah…” W. Sleepy agrees, dreamily, “and then, when the grain is born it becomes wheat!”

Dopey, then, stands up and throws himself on the ground, mimicking someone dying.

“I get it,” W. Bashful explains, “to become bread… the wheat has to dye, then it will live again as a bread.”

“A delicious one, by the way,” W. Smee speaks with a full mouth, winking at them, and making all laugh.

“The circles of Life are eternal - that is the meaning of the riddle,” Kevin concludes.

“Nova,” Sneezy turns to his sister-in-law to ask, “what exactly makes - or used to make, the gods immortal?”

“You see,” she answers, “according to one of the most ancient perceptions, immortality was granted by eating a specific nutriment. The food of immortality is related to beautiful gardens and trees of the Olympus that produce sublime fruits - ambrosia - or some special nutriment inaccessible to humans. What we know for sure is that the  gods ate ambrosia drinking nectar, both prepared with a sacred water provided by the Youth Fountain. Both words, ambrosia and nectar, mean one thing: immortality.”

"You are partially right, Deary,” Rumple’s voice come from a ray of light from which he materializes in the room.

Standing up, Leroy and Grumpy start to panic, preparing to scream and run because of the ex-Dark One unannounced visit, but the kind smile of the Emissary, radiating a warm energy of peace and love calms them immediately and they sit down again.

“Who are you?” Laura Smith asks. “If you came in peace, have a seat with us,” she invites him, already making room for him in their bench.

“Thank you, but I’ll be brief, I'll be working soon at my son’s castle, the one that used to be my castle when I was alive. I really need to be there very soon, we will carry out important experiments regarding breaking the connection between the hibernating clones and their original bodies. You see, I’m Rumpelstiltskin, ex-Dark One,” and he smiles at Leroy and Grumpy. “I’m actually dead but, as you already must have heard, I’m temporarily on Earth as an Emissary of Poseidon, the god of the Seas, Rivers, Horses and Earthquakes.”

‘Wow,” that is a lot of attributes, you - that is, your Patron,  must be quite busy,” Doc remarks.

“He is, and he asked me to visit you, that’s why I’m here. You were wondering about ambrosia and nectar… the gods have both and a combination of them. The ingredients for preparing them, including a special honey produced in Persephone’s garden at Olympus, require - all of them, Water. Not any kind of water, but - as you know - the one coming from the Youth Fountain.”

“You said you are the God of the Rivers, don’t you?” W. Doc asks.

“Exactly. Listen, let’s go straight to the point as we are running against time. What Wish Pan and Wish Cruella did, instructed by Cruella who, in the Underworld, stole an ancient scroll and a book, was to cut the sacred spiritual connection between Earth and the Olympus. She instructed them to perform a ritual at the banks of an underground river, in the Enchanted Mountains, that broke the chain. To restore the connection a similar ritual must be performed by the same persons - or entities. In other words, only those who unplugged it are able to plug it again.”

"But that means all our effort, one whole day searching in vain for a Fountain was meant to be useless, so much noise for nothing ..." Leroy grumbles.

"On the contrary, Leroy," Rumple intervenes. "Your effort will be rewarded if you do what I am going to say - and in this part the contribution is much more mine than Poseidon's who, like you, had concluded that the problem was insoluble. My ability to find loopholes was extremely fortuitous and made us find the way out of this maze. Well, here's the map of Maine's water resources." And with a gesture of Rumple a map of Maine appears on the table.

"Your Pixie Dust Mines have showed you new trails of water that you have been tracking - and all of them have ended up in dry fountains. That’s because you were not the ones that performed the unplugging ritual. The Mineral World is trying to help us by creating these trails but they don’t last for too much and dry soon. However, as water always finds its way out, new streams will keep appearing in your mines. Next time you go there, that is, today, after breakfast, you will be prepared. For the connection to be restored you will have to track the streams of water with a new approach.” And at that, he magically brings a small trident and gives it to Kevin. “Here, take this with you, as sailors, you four must go with the dwarfs and the fairies - you too, Laura. Why you, sailors? Because your connection with this mini-trident will be stronger.”

“As soon as you get to the stream end, you use the Trident to touch the water: a new Fountain will spring its magic waters then.  Here is the loophole: what has been unplugged can only be plugged by whom performed the first ritual. But that doesn’t prevent anyone - us, or better saying, you, to create a new connection, one that hasn’t been unplugged because it didn’t exist before. This trident is a miniature of Poseidon’s trident and is impregnated with enough power to energize the water, to create a new Fountain on Earth. Immediately after touching the water, the Fairies, here on Earth, together with the Lilac Fairies, at Olympus, will fly over the waters to spread their Pixie Dust over them. The Mineral Elemental will help, they are on the alert, waiting for you. Good luck, Dearies!” Rumple smiles mischievously, content with the effect his dearies still have on people and disappears, heading to Gideon’s castle.

“What are we waiting for?” Happy stands up, already picking up his coat and enchanted ax.

“We are going, we are going,” Grumpy mumbles also preparing to go to their mines. “I only hope it works, this time…”

...

This time it works.

East-side Storybrooke, Multi-use Orchestra and Stage Room

Time is indeed Elastic, otherwise one single day wouldn't be enough for all the work that had to be done. And worked hard, all day towards the Ceremony at night, they have. The meticulous planning defined the day before was a key enabler for allowing them to achieve their goal. Seen from afar, the frantic pace of people resembled a swarm of bees in random agitation. However, as bees in their over-organized colonies, seen 'closely', there was a coordinated ordering where their individual activity complemented each other.

...

Although not quite ready for the purpose it has been intended, the Multiuse Orchestra and Stage Room was quickly adapted to accommodate all Alignment Ceremony preparation activities - in addition to the ceremony itself. To this end, there were taken to the new building, located on the outskirts of Eastside Storybrooke (aka Chinese Village), a great number of furniture, musical instruments, fabrics and materials for making native costumes and headdresses, real-time recording and broadcasting equipment, sound and lighting equipment, and whatever it took to accomplish in less than 10 hours of hard, coordinated work, the most important ceremony before the battle against the two Pans and the two Cruellas. (News from Nature elementals came that the two couples, also in ritualistic preparation, had spent the night before and apparently continued in the morning in a wild mating that involved sacrificing animals and plants).

Originally, the Rehearsal and Stage rooms had been designed by Emm to be part of the Music College complex, a project she had been developing. Initially, she had considered using some of her parents' castle halls, adapted as Chamber Music, Choral and Orchestra rooms, but was eventually convinced by the arguments of Storybrooke architects, most closely connected to the Land without Magic's architectural advances. “Believe us, the acoustic and sound effects we can achieve by building new facilities using state-of-the-art technological resources are vastly superior to those obtained in the palace halls adapted for this same purpose," they explained to her.

...

Throughout the day the running was intense. Backstage with proof of clothing, makeup tests, diverse rehearsals, editing of texts, adjustments and tuning of instruments and voices... Amid all this, Hope, always accompanied by Luna and Missy, and under her godmother's care, mingled with the frenzy, spreading (with small gestures of magic) twinkles and golden stars in the air - "they are for joy," she explained every time someone asked what she was doing.

Some people kept coming and going, coordinating the preparations for the Ceremony with other equally important activities taking place in parallel throughout the day. Killian and Key took turns with W. Brennan, Liam and Milah captaining the two Jolly Rogers to transport the 3-D screens to more remote locations, while the two airships and the three dragons flew back and forth, setting up the television signal retransmitters and antennas network.

"Will the signal be received at the Land without Magic?" Chad asked Nemo, "From here we get the signal that is transmitted from there..."

"Not because the carrier frequency we're using is outside the operating range of the equipment they use, and besides, I'm using quantum encryption so that even if someone picks up the signal they can't decode it," Nemo explained.

Emma, enamored with the number prepared by the Youngers with Henry's help, took over their stage direction and choreography, while Emm spent most of the time rehearsing with the orchestra and Ursula the performance of the chosen song.

Wish Ariel, Senior, Junior and Liam took over the direction of photography, sound and lighting. Liam and his Olympian Patron were extremely helpful with all equipment while Ursula took over the conduct of the orchestra, as Emm had to sing the song.

Split Regina, Wish Regina, Zelena and Wish Apprentice took on tasks that involved more sophisticated magic, and so, little by little, the Ceremony started to take shape.

In the middle of the afternoon, those who had been working on other missions joined the teams, so that by the end of the afternoon the finishing touches began to be given.

Red and Wish Red were in charge of the makeup, Snow of the locker room, and Johanna and both Grannys took over the food and drink.

To calm their fast-moving hearts as the time of the Ceremony approached, Alice, Ingrid and Ruth began to apply reassuring passes and massages and later, with the arrival of  Marian, Tiana, Jasmine, Anna and Merida, they formed a team to apply collective sessions of Reiki, energizing everyone with pacifying waves.

Gepetto worked during the afternoon on carving special chairs for the musicians, using enchanted wood, and Moe adorned the hall (audience and stage) with flowerpots.

Gradually the special guests: kings, queens, Emissaries and Magicians began to arrive and settle into the small auditorium. The cameras, sound and lighting tested, all set.

...

Henry, the first to present, takes a deep breath and walks to the backstage, where all presenters and artists are already concentrated. Cindy, from an armchair in the audience, sends him a kiss wishing him luck.

*

Enter Henry Mills, the Author.

"I greet all Living Beings in all dimensions and realms interconnected by the Power of Light, Peace and Love.

Two days ago, the Magic Pen of which I am the temporary guardian, which makes me the current Author, prophesied the script of the Alignment Ceremony - a  Sacred Art shared tonight with everyone in the United Realms, Olympus and Elysium Fields through this real-time transmission thanks to the Power of Magic, Science and Technology. Its Sacred Mystery will resonate and awaken within us the Warriors of the Earth, Moon and Sun.

The poetic riddle, base of the Ceremony defined by the magic pen, was:

"Through the Elders' drums, Freedom. Through the Youngers' dreams, Legend. Through the Moon, Wolf. Through the Eyes, Soul."

To the inner call for planning, organizing, producing, directing, performing and playing the Alignment, many responded. The Spirit of Light, Peace and Love drove, in record time, the hard work of this great number of people behind the scenes, in a collective effort, for producing tonight's ceremony.

From telecom infrastructure to big screens' distribution logistics, from magic teleport to magic protection spell, from stage teleprompter to magic assistance, from costumes to makeup, from photography direction to 3-D devices development, from enchanted wood provision to set design, from cameras' operation to stage direction, from dressing room assistance to backstage snacks, from production assistance to stage lighting, from sound engineering to live audience assistance, from magic healing to Reiki therapy, from art direction to teleplay & script, from scene choreography to screenplay, from executive production to general direction, from enchanted furniture and flowers to the delicious meals we were fed with during rehearsals and meetings: to all, Gratitude is in Order - we are making History.

In fact, the amplitude and impact of what we are living only from the perspective of History we will be able to understand. But one thing we can already be certain of: the new age of prosperity and peace to all Enchanted Lands has only become possible thanks to the luminous magic that created the United Realms. In this sense, tonight is doubly memorable because it marks the return to our conviviality of the United Realms creator - she is back, walking in her Healing path. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our Good Queen."

Enter Regina Mills, walking slowly, with elegance.

"I thank you all for your kindness and goodness. We will need all this kindness and all this goodness now, more than ever. To face our enemies, we must remain united in one heart, one mind. Together, unified, we are stronger than isolated and alone. Together, vibrating in resonance with the frequencies of Light, Peace and Love, we will become invincible. This is what the Sacred Alignment is meant to perform. It is meant to take us to the Here and Now. In the Here and Now we will Shine, Together.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a great honor for me to be here and now to declare the Alignment Ceremony open."

Enter Fergus.

"The Wabanaki Confederacy (translated to People of the Dawn or Easterner) are a First Nations and Native American confederation of five principal nations: the Mi'kmaq, Maliseet, Passamaquoddy, Abenaki, and Penobscot.

The Wabanaki are in and named for the area which they call Wabanahkik ("Dawnland"), roughly the area made up of most of present-day Maine in the Land almost without Magic known as the United States, and New Brunswick, mainland Nova Scotia, Cape Breton Island, Prince Edward Island and some of Quebec south of the St. Lawrence River in Canada.

Two days ago, five Wabanaki shamans, Elders of their five nations, demonstrated why we must rename their land to Land almost without Magic . They went to Arendelle's Royal Palace, teleported by their own Magic, in response to a Mother Earth's call, for taking part in the Alignment, bringing with their drums, flute and chants the rhythm and pulse of our Mother Earth. They will open the Ceremony with the song Freedom.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Elders' group Spirit of the Dawn."

Enter Aesop.

"Youth is the window through which the future enters the world. In making this statement I placed in the hands of the young the noble task of transforming the so-called “liquid society” into a fertile field of solid, deep and true relationships, where love can supersede hatred and indifference. After all, youth, endowed with aptitudes and peculiar creativity, cannot be molded by the exploits of the world without questioning itself as a thinking, virtuous and transforming subject of history.

Youth is the tomorrow of life, not a separate chapter from the rest of existence, nor is it the preface to a book. It is the premise of everything. It is the seed from which all springs forth. It is the foundation on which to lay the great building of life. What a majestic and beautiful mission!

The windows of life open at dawn so that big and small human dreams come true. However, the battle to reach great achievement, personal or collective change is procedural and often arduous and severe. Therefore, cultivating faith and self-confidence is a must in every dreamer's life.

The dream is the indispensable fuel for the struggles and achievements, this indomitable force that nourishes hopes and points new horizons and possibilities. The idealist is not someone who pretends happiness, but a life enthusiast who has learned the value of a treasure before he/she ever finds it. Therein lies the secret of believing for yourself! In the art of dreaming, one finds the reasons for believing in the values of one's existence. The young being who does not dream and who, in this vast world of possibilities, does not know where to go, will easily be lost in paths indicated by others, which will not always lead him to self-realization.

The youngsters who will perform on this stage have dreamed of the cultural manifestation of natives from this North American continent, which has welcomed the United Realms in one of its dimensional planes. These young people have cultivated this dream in their hearts - an ideal that they worked hard to become real.

To live is to be open to the new, to believe in love and purity of mind. It is urgent not to lose the charm of life nor the enthusiasm for the dreams that are believed - and the most beautiful thing is that these young men and young women researched and found this enchantment for the new looking into the past, into the ancestry of indigenous legends.

By the time the Magic Pen wrote the Alignment script, the Legend you are about to know had already been chosen, and the 10 representatives of Youth symbolically unfolded themselves in 10 times 10 thousand young people to translate the magic of the chosen native fable into a language resonant with the moment we are all living and pulsing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Youngers' group Spirit of the Day."

Altogether:

Enter the 5 Elders and, from behind the 10 Youngers, they play and chant the 'Wolf Song':

Enter Granny and W. Granny.

Granny: “Regardless of our gender, and despite all our apparent sophistication, we are nature, we remain wild creatures who somehow long to regain our ancient freedom to feel alive, to find our position in the world. Our challenge is to find the path for the wild without losing our vocational instinct for goodness. For that, women and she-wolves have a lot to teach everyone.”

W. Granny: "Within each woman lives a powerful force, a whirlwind of good instincts, creativity, passion and timeless knowledge that sometimes society itself makes us forget in an attempt to "tame" us. For us, women, being ourselves is, undoubtedly and profoundly, revolutionary.”

Granny: “The courage to be ourselves in any setting, in any context and regardless of who we are will allow us to preserve our identity. We are being ourselves when we are being strong.”

W. Granny: "But being strong doesn't mean exercising the muscles. It means finding our own brightness without running away, actively living with the wild nature in our own way. It means being able to learn, being able to defend what we know. It means staying and living. Strong is who stares, who does not run away, who shows without fear his/her identity, who does not surrender, who lives with joy and courage.”

Granny: "Most of today's women have been separated from their savage version, that instinctive essence with which the she-wolf knows who she is, recognizes herself, and feels strong, free, and important. We must therefore observe what our predecessors did to rediscover our value, our importance, and the energy that feeds us and makes us strong.”

W. Granny: "If we live as we breathe, holding and releasing, we cannot go wrong. This principle symbolizes nothing more than the life cycle: take, hold, let go, accept, move on…”

Granny: "The wolf, the old one, the one who knows is inside us. It blooms in the deepest psyche of women's souls, the ancient and vital Wild Woman. She describes her home as a place at a time when the spirit of women and the spirit of wolves come into contact.”

W. Granny: "Healthy wolves and healthy women have certain psychic characteristics in common: keen perception, playfulness, and a high capacity for devotion."

Granny: "Wolves and women are gregarious by nature, curious, endowed with great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive and have great concern for their puppies, their partner and their pack. Has experience in adapting to changing circumstances. They have a fierce determination and extreme courage."

W. Granny: "When women reaffirm their relationship with the wild, they are gifted with a permanent inner observer, a wise, a visionary, an oracle, an inspirer, an intuitive, a creator, an inventor, and a listener who guides. She suggests and stimulates a vibrant life in the inner and outer worlds."

Granny: "When women are with the Wild Woman, the reality of this relationship is reflected in them. No matter what happens, this savage instructor, mother, and mentor supports her inner and outer lives."

W. Granny: "Wolves and Women are lunar beings and Tonight, a specially magic Full Moon night, She-Wolves and Women will share a special connection symbolized by the silent, profoundly spiritual presence of five She-Wolves-Women from a special pack blessed by the gods."

Granny and W. Granny: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the She-Wolves' group Spirit of the Night."

Five Women walk in with their red hooded capes back to the cameras. Then they turn around taking off their magic cloaks to transform into She-wolves.

While four Wolves walk, with balance and beauty, to position themselves as guardians of the four corners of the Room, Killian Jones, Emma Swan-Jones, (Wish) Killian Jones and (Wish) Emma Sweet Nolan-Jones enter the stage, being received by the fifth Wolf, who conducts them to the center of the room where they all sit on four cushions placed on the floor.

After a pause for everybody to settle down, the 5 Elders enter the stage again playing and chanting another song, followed by the 10 Youngers  performing a round choreography while also chanting a mantra:

Round Dance

Enter W. Snow and W. David.

In silence, Henry Mills, Regina Mills, Fergus, Aesop, Janet and W. Janet Lucas (Grannys) follow them and position themselves in the grand circle formed by the 5 Elders, 10 Youngers and 4 Wolves - 1 Wolf remains at the center of the circle with the two Killians and Emma Swan, all on their marks.

W. Snow: "Life is the most perfect translation of the most perfect Mystery."

W. David: "Love is the most perfect translation of the most perfect Magic."

W. Snow: "Life is eternal, and when translated into the circle of Time, it pulsates in cyclic contrasts: chiaroscuro, day-night, male-female, life-death."

W. David: "There is no Darkness that resists Light. Darkness exists because of the absence of Light."

W. Snow: "There is no Dark Magic that resists the Magic of Love, the most powerful and luminous of all Magic."

W. David: "The Light of Love encompasses all frequencies and aligns them synchronously by enveloping them in the pulse of Peace, Harmony, Fraternity, Health, and Happiness."

W. Snow and W. David: "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Orchestra Spirit of the Light, conducted by Ursula, and the Aligner, Emma Sweet Nolan-Jones."

Soul Eyes

1,2,3

#Body and Soul #Chapter 9

[tradeshowguy]

Notes from Working with Potential Tradeshow Exhibit Clients

Not every company where there’s a sales conversation turns into a tradeshow exhibit client. In fact, it’s probably a fairly low percentage. However, each encounter has its own distinct flavor and outcome. And of course, learning experience.

No matter what company you’re trying to sell to, it’s impossible to be a fit for everyone. In fact, that’s what I tell prospects: “Let’s talk about what you are hoping to do to see if we’re a fit.” That way, the pressure is taken off. So many buyers are uncomfortable with reaching out to tradeshow companies or any company where the purchase is fairly large and time-consuming because of the pressure they think will come to them.

Let’s examine some of the interactions more closely and find some takeaways:

Example One:

I reconnected with a company that was familiar with while attending a tradeshow and started chatting. We knew each other from a previous design request in past years, and although we didn’t get the business then, they were ready to upgrade. This time it was for a larger exhibit, and even though they were comfortable working with their current provider they felt it was worth talking to a few others. Since we had a connection and had previously shown them our design work, we were asked to respond.

Respond we did. A budget range was set, an exhibit was designed based on their stated functional objectives and submitted prior to their deadline. The final pricing was presented in a range depending on options (type of graphics, backlit panels, custom vs. catalog counters, etc.). And while the overall price range started in their proposed budget range, it did run above that figure once all the options were chosen.

Towards the end of their decision date, we were politely told that their current vendor had won the business. Why? They had essentially the same design, but a significantly lower price.

Takeaway: Price speaks loudly. It’s easy to look at this from a number of angles. Price speaks loudly, often more loudly than the overall design and, the quality of workmanship and materials. Without knowing exactly what the current vendor is proposing, it’s impossible to know what materials would be used, what the design is, or how it’s built. But it’s not hard to take a look the next time it’s set up at a show.

Example Two:

This company was also a company I met at a tradeshow, and once they found out what I did, they expressed interest in upgrading to a new exhibit (this business usually has a long sales cycle, especially for new custom builds!). The conversation, which picked up and died down off and on for nearly eight months, finally led to a decision to proceed with us. That’s when the fun started!

I like it when clients ask question. The more the merrier. That wasn’t always the way, though. I had to learn that questions from clients (and prospects) are good. This client asked more questions than any other I’ve had before or since. Details, details, details! More questions about details than any other I’ve had. And frankly, they were asking questions about elements of products that I was unfamiliar with, so that lead to a lot of back and forth with producers, subcontractors and other vendors. At one point, they apologized for asking so many questions, but frankly, I didn’t mind. Not only did they get the exhibit they really wanted, they learned a lot along the way. As did I! You can’t ask too many questions about something you’re buying, especially when tens of thousands of dollars are involved.

Takeaway: Questions are good. You can never ask too many questions. It demonstrates interest and engagement.

Example Three:

Hands-Off Client. Some clients see the big picture and don’t get bogged down in details, except the ones that are important to them. Here’s an example of a company that we met with a few years ago, pitched them on a project that included a design for a 10×20 that met their budget. We were told they were also reviewing at least one other exhibit house, but the design struck gold and we ended up with the business. Since then, they’ve been very active in upgrading and expanding, but when it comes to the back and forth in creating new designs, there are very few questions, unlike our previous example. Typically, they’ll have their ducks lined up with 2D design concepts and proposed changes and are ready to move forward. As long as they have graphic dimensions, design details are left up to us. They chime in with comments suggesting modest changes, but otherwise it’s more of a “30,000-foot level” approach. Nothing wrong with this approach, just as there is nothing wrong with asking countless questions. As long as it works for the client, it works for us.

Takeaway: Trust. When a client that knows your work is at that level of engagement and stays mostly hands-off, it shows there is a great deal of trust involved.

Example Four:

We were contacted by a company that ran across our company website and asked if we were interested in responding to an RFP for a 30×30 custom booth at a tech show the following year. While there are pros and cons to responding to RFPs, we decided to proceed. The communication with this potential client was almost clinical, and I felt as if we were a million miles away. It was hard to get specific answers to questions. Everything was going to a committee at the end anyway. But we submitted a design and price that fit their price range to a T. As indicated in their decision process, the top three qualifiers would be required to present either at the company’s HQ in the Bay Area or via the web. Given the contact’s lack of genuine engagement during our design process and creating the RFP where we peppered them with questions regarding various aspects of the RFP, it was no surprise that we didn’t make the final cut. I still wonder why they were so interested in having us submit.

Takeaway: Trust your gut. From the beginning, this felt like we were a third wheel. The company probably needed to have a certain amount of RFP responses, most likely arbitrary, which lead to at least one or more exhibit providers submitting responses without a ghost’s chance of actually getting the work. But that’s the way the business world often works.

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