#how many times has Emma heard this rant? how many times has Henry heard it? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetfaust · 3 years

Note

I'm interested in hearing more about why you think Margot should've been Rumbelle's daughter. Sounds interesting, but what would that mean for her enchanted forest life? I think her being Robin Hood's daughter would've been fine if not for Zelena

Okay, Nonny, since you sent this a few days before Mother's Day, I'm gonna finally take the opportunity to try to sum up and speed-run the Belle's Daughter Margot feelings that have haunted me for THREE YEARS. Buckle in; this will be more than you or anyone asked for.

Disclaimer 1: It's been, well, three years, so my memory of Curious Archer and their story is not perfect; could be off on some details here. And Disclaimer 2: I really loved Tiera Skovbye as Robin/Margot; she did a lot with not much screen time, and she and Rose had fabulous chemistry. So although she was well cast as Robin Sr.'s kid, Tiera would be perfectly believable as a Rumbelle daughter, too--maybe give her some low-lights and call it a day. We keep Tiera as Margot in this rewrite. Okay: onward.

(Since one of the few things that would have to change about Robin if she were Rumbelle’s daughter is her name, I’ll just mostly use her Hyperion Heights name “Margot” throughout this post for simplicity.)

First and foremost, the foundation of everything: Margot is so like Belle! She is so like her. They have the same love of adventure, a similar sense of humor. She took Alice on a date to a bookstore. Most of all, she has Belle’s ability to see past “the mask of the monster” to a person’s heart. There was a great scene where Tilly explained that she didn’t want Margot to see her “bad days” because she thought it would be “too much,” and Margot said words to the effect that she was there for the bad as well as the good.

Obviously, people don't have to grow up to be exactly like their parents (Belle and Rumple sure didn't)...BUT. In fiction, one of the fun parts of next-gen stories is for the audience to see how their favorites' personalities are passed down. It's just more fun to see a Henry who has parts of Regina/Emma/Neal than one who doesn't; it's fun to see Lucy resemble little Henry. And it would be fun to see Margot be like her parents (she is very like Robin Sr; not so much Zee). Seeing a character who has so many of Belle's traits becomes just more...fun...when she learned them FROM Belle.

The family feud Rumple/Hook angle turns Alice and Margot’s relationship up another roman tic notch. A classic trope! It’s about reconciliation and love remaking and erasing those old grudges. Which is even more important when we’re supposed to believe that the evidence of Rumple’s final redemption is his saving Rook.

On a more macro level: the entire claim that OUAT is "a show about hope" COLLAPSES because it ends with the annihilation of the Stiltskin family. Rumple, Belle, and Neal are all dead; Henry doesn’t acknowledge them as his family; and Gideon is a friendless and forgotten orphan in another world. I did my rants about this three years ago, but long story short: the show’s not about hope unless it’s hopeful for EVERYONE. And having at least one of Rumbelle’s children alive and happy at the end (with her True Love and friends and acknowledged as part of the family) would fix that. My objection has never been that Rumple (and even Belle) die, but the way it happened.

And of course, Rumbelle needed to have at least one other child because Kitsowitz managed to deny them even one single shared happy moment surrounding Belle’s pregnancy with Gideon and his birth. Even if the audience didn’t get to see it (and we could have gotten a glimpse in Beauty), we deserved to know it happened.

Finally: Zelena did not belong in S7, period. I know it was fun for her fans! (Although apparently there weren't enough of them to positively affect the ratings, meow.) I do know! But it was bad storytelling. She served no point in the larger season arc, and the serial witch killer plot that was invented to serve her was one of the worst and most stupid things Kitsowitz came up with in seven years, and ate up time that could/should have gone to develop other characters. (Driz and Ana come immediately to mind, instead of having them shunted off to another universe, but also Henry/Cinda/Lucy and of course Rumple since his plot was coming to a close.) Zelena didn’t even get any significant growth herself, or develop her relationships with Regina or Robin. She still didn’t express regret for the horrible things she did to characters we love (Rumple, Neal, and Robin Sr.); the only result of all that screentime was to give an unrepentant rapist a love story with a person--we barely see and have zero investment in. And even that was ultimately negated at the end of the season, because in the finale Zee’s back in Storybrooke sans Boo Bear.

So, all that said: what would have to change about Margot’s, and Curious Archer’s, FTL storyline to give us Margot Gold?

Her name—but actually very little else. (And frankly it would have been more respectful to have Belle name her daughter after Robin Sr., who was actually her friend, than for Zee to name her kid after the man she raped, manipulated, and ultimately got killed—but that ship had sailed.)

Belle and Rumple could have given their daughter any number of fairytale names after people they know, aka fresh take on a Disney character. My favorite possibilities are Aurora (and then Curious Archer could have been Curious Beauty, and done a riff on the Sleeping Beauty story as part of their FTL backstory, with a built-in TLK) and Merlin (very pretty for a girl, I’ve always thought).

But the character herself would have been very much the same: she could be Rumbelle’s jock daughter, trained in archery and swordsmanship by family friends (Merida/Mulan/Charming), but always feeling out of place in her family of scholars/sorcerers/nerds.

I am SO sorry for the length of this--there's even more under this cut!

Robin/Margot felt insecure about trying to live up to her father’s name; Rory/Merlin/Margot could have similar anxieties trying to live down her father’s Dark One rep. There could even be a similar story where she was born with magic (like Robin was) but loses it or chooses to give it up—something that would estrange her further from her family. Or, if she was Merlin, she could keep her magic but be reluctant to use it, and part of Curious Archer’s Hyperion Heights arc would be both Margot and Tilly discovering and accepting their magic. (Sapphic sorceresses for the win.)

Now, one of the cutest things about Alice/Robin’s FTL dynamic was Robin being a girl from the Land Without Magic finding her feet in an enchanted forest, with Alice’s help. But it would only take a little finessing of S7 Rumbelle’s story to get that for Rory as well. (Of course, any decent story would have a LOT of finessing of Rumbelle’s plot so that Belle didn’t die and put Rumple on a suicide mission, but again—assuming the ship has sailed…)

Say that Rory is five to six years younger than Gideon. The Rumbelle family spend a dozen years or so traveling the realms, but then Rumbelle decide that they want Gideon and Rory to be comfortable in the LWoM with their extended Charming family, so they settle back into the Pink Palace so the kids can get a LWoM education. They still take occasional journeys, often Rumbelle going to save some hapless souls, but Rory grows up primarily in SB with very few, vague memories of all the fascinating places they visited when she was a small child. This feeds her hunger for adventure along with some envy of Gideon for having so many more fairytale experiences—another thing that makes her feel like a misfit in her family. So, presto, when she moves to FTL she and Alice have pretty much the same meeting/adventures.

One of the key notes of Rumple and Alice/Tilly's relationship, showing his growth and making it so special, was how he chose to set her free of being the Guardian or whatever, allowing her to be free and get what he never had, the chance to grow old with the woman she loves. And that would be weakened if Rumple knew that by choosing Alice's happiness over his own, he was also choosing his own daughter's happiness (because we know Rumple picks his kids over himself ever time). But--he doesn't have to know WHO Alice's True Love is when he makes that choice. He could just know that there is someone, or simply realize that Alice deserves her freedom for her own sake. (Rumple's daughter also getting happiness would be a side benefit that he didn't learn about till later, and have the added perk of Rumple actually getting a narrative reward for doing something good. Which almost NEVER happened! Bonus.)

Finally: I do understand that Robin's presence on the canvas was important to fans of Robin Sr.--getting to know he's remembered and having someone carry on his legacy. Of course I get it--Rumbelle and their family not having that is my biggest complaint (of so so many).

But we don't need a grown-up Robin Jr. to be Robin's legacy. Let her stay a cute background kid with perennially baby Prince Neal. There's already a character, one we're invested in, to carry on for the Hoods: Roland. And again, it would be satisfying for the audience to learn that a five-year-old orphan wasn't shunted off from what family he had left (Regina and Henry) into another universe and never heard from again. If Kitsowitz didn't waste time with Zelena, they wouldn't have needed the idiotic Jack-is-Hansel-the-serial-killer twist, and we could have have had Roland filling the role of Henry's best friend/little brother (and therefore Lucy's fake HH dad--God, that plot was bad all the way back in season 1; why Kitsowitz why?). We'd see Roland onscreen, part of the family, at the end of the show, perhaps with his own True Love (Drizella, maybe, or better yet Gideon) and happy future.

So, that's it: the combination of Margot Stiltskin-Gold and Roland Hood tightens and heightens the storytelling throughout S7, closes some plot holes, and actually fulfills some of the show's stated themes. Who knew!

Anyone else want three years of OUAT theory vomit? 😋 Shoot me an ask!

(I actually have another one, god help us all, but I might save it till Father's Day...)

#rumbelle #ouat of all things #curious archer sort of #rumbelle family #belle french #deserved a daughter damnit #roland hood #anti-kitsowitz as all things should be #long post guys sorry #op #UN!proofread!

42 notes · View notes

klynn-stormz · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas Indeed

Hi @thisonesatellite, I am your secret santa! here is your gift for @cssecretsanta2k19, I got this done a little earlier that I thought I would post this now! I hope you enjoy this and it lives up to your expectations! I am so grateful for the opportunity to get to know you and create this gift for you. This is a little bit of friends to lovers, with a dash of snowed in and a pinch of angst with a happy ending.

Summary:

Emma Swan has been best friends with Killian Jones since she was 8. When he suddenly disappears from her and her son’s life she thought she wasn’t enough. After finding out some secrets from an unfortunate ex, she decides to take the weekend before Christmas to figure out her feelings. So when Killian shows up to make sure she’s okay, she’s more than ready for some answers.

AO3

The cabin was settled far back off the little dirt road used for the National Park. The ground was covered in about six inches of snow from the previous few weeks, it glistened and sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun. The clearing for the cabin was small, cozy even, with tall thick trees surrounding and towering over it. Emma was lucky enough that the place had belonged to the Nolan’s long before the area was declared part of a National Park; it was the perfect way to get away for the week. With Christmas a few days away she was stressed enough, but after the enlightening breakfast at her parents’ house she really needed an escape. The jeep David had let her borrow navigated the snow easily, it wasn’t supposed to start snowing for another few hours, time enough for her to get all her supplies for the week into the cabin and start warming it up. David had reminded her of the generator in the back in case power went out, the storm wasn’t supposed to be too bad, but you never could be sure in Maine in December.

Emma closed her eyes briefly to listen to the quiet forest around her, she had only been here once or twice before, and always with David and Mary Margaret. At 25 years old she had only known her parents for eight years. They had been young when they had had her. After a lot of deliberation, arguing, family intervention and so on, they had decided to give her up for adoption. She was given to the Swan’s days after birth; when she was three, they were still in the process of adoption and found out they were having another baby, they didn’t want her anymore. Emma moved from foster home to foster home, never finding a place she fit. She had seen all kinds of ‘parents’ and been through hell with many of the homes, she met her best friend in the world though, and that was worth a lot. Eventually she ended up in a Boston foster home where her parents tracked her down at sixteen.

The jeep rolled to a stop near the front steps and she hopped out into the cold. For just a moment she took in the silence of the forest, living in a small town had gotten her used to quiet, but there was something almost magical about being all alone in the wood, she loved to wander and explore, though it was much too cold right now to do any of that. The cold wind whipped and whistled through the thick trees, creating a beautiful melody Emma hoped to fall asleep to. For a moment she considered unloading the car and sitting on the porch for a little bit, but she dispelled that thought quickly. She’d rather get settled in for the night. She had had a horrible day, which had come from a few horrible months, she needs to rest and think, that’s why she was here.

Her thoughts turned to her best friend, the one who had stuck by her through all the homes and moves, who had been noticeably absent the past few months. She had found out why early this morning, she wasn’t sure how to feel, it hurt, it made her angry, it made her sad. She sighed and hoped she would figure out what she wanted to do over the next few days. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out to find that Henry had texted her from Regina’s phone. He was the best thing to ever happen to her. Her little seven-year-old was the light of her life.

Mom! Gina snow gave me the phone to tell u I luv u! Thanks for letting me sleep at rolands for the week! We will have so much fun! She grinned at his words, thank heavens for autocorrect or she may not have understood him. Her little boy was growing up faster than she liked, and she was grateful to be a part of every moment. She sent a quick ‘I love you’ back and began unloading the car. — It was nearly midnight and she hadn’t managed to fall asleep. Her mind was still replaying the last few months, and especially this morning. When everything had come out she had bundled Henry up, dropped him off at a willing and worried Regina’s, and bolted for the cabin. Her mom and dad had been texting her nonstop since she left, trying to apologize and get her to come back, but she needed to think. It wasn’t that she didn’t see where they were coming from, it wasn’t even that she was mad at them. What she was mad at was that the entire situation came about because her ex thought he could come back into her life and she would jump into his arms. She was mad that it had been her best friend who had gotten hurt and decided to back off. Emma sighed a clutched her hot chocolate to her chest, she wished she had someone she could just spill the whole story too. As if on cue, a hard knock sounded at the front door.

Emma jumped off the couch, grabbed the gun she kept close. No one lived out here; the closest cabin was miles away. She figured it was probably David or Mary Margaret, tired of her ignoring their calls and texts, but you could never be too careful. When she flung open the door she startled, he was the last person she had been expecting. The night was dark, but not pitch black; the storm clouds in the sky cast an eerie white light she knew meant it would snow soon. He stood on the porch, wrapped in a thick black coat, jeans, a dark gray beanie, and his well-worn motorcycle boots.

Killian Jones was probably the most handsome man Emma had ever seen. It had taken her a long time to realize it though, having known him since she was 8 before she noticed boys. But he really was, seriously hot. His square jaw was lightly covered with stubble, she had the strong urge to rub her face on. His beautiful, brilliant blue eyes shined from the cabin porch light, a soft hopeful smile on his lips as he took her in. God, she wanted to throw her arms around him and cry, maybe never let go. It was this line of thought that drew her back from him, she could not deal with those thoughts when she was still struggling with everything.

“Jones.” She said softly, taking a step back into the cabin. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to- “He paused and cleared his throat; his right hand came up to scratch behind his ear. “I thought I’d come check on you.”

“You thought you’d come check on me.” She repeated, testing the words out. With them came a rush of her emotions from the last few months. “Why? You’ve been ignoring me for months now, and just happened to decide to come visit me? Who called you? Mary Margaret? Regina? Oh hell, it if was Ruby…”

Killian winced at the flatness of her tone. “May I come in love? Please?”

“Fine, but first.” She moved in front of him, her eyes fired with emotion. “I’m not your love, you lost that right when you disappeared.”

He nodded mutely and continued inside, a duffle bag she hadn’t noticed before, slung over his shoulder. She walked back into the living room, her mind racing with what she was going to do. Let him talk? Rant at him? Both? She wasn’t quite sure, hopefully she could send him back to town in the morning. Her phone rang and she glanced at it, Killian had made his way to the guest bedroom to set his stuff down. Ruby was calling.

“You bitch!” She growled into her phone when she answered.

“Hello to you too!” Ruby cheered back, not put out in the slightest by Emma’s menacing tone. “I sent a Christmas present your way. Have fun!”

“First, Christmas isn’t till Tuesday! There are four more days. Second, this isn’t a present this is a punishment! What the hell Ruby?”

“You missed him, he missed you. You had a stupid fight with your loving but overwhelming parents over the fact that your will never get with your ex, you haven’t talked to your best friend in months. This is totally a present, now you have Killian all to yourself and nobody to pester you.”

“He’ll pester me! Ruby, really, I appreciate the thought… I really do, but he was the one who stopped talking, he was the one who just left out of the blue. I really don’t need this today; I came to get away from the mess that is my life.” Emma blew out a breath and rubbed a hand down her face.

“What was that? You’re breaking up!” Ruby called, before promptly hanging up.

Emma sighed, she was so done with today, hell she was done with this year. When she turned from her place at the living room window she saw Killian standing there awkwardly, it was obvious he had heard at least the end of the conversation. She wasn’t going to feel bad, everything she said was the truth. He had ignored her, just left her, and it wasn’t even only her that he left. When he stopped talking to her, that meant Henry too. She wasn’t sure how to get over that.

“Lov—Lass I came to explain myself, if that helps put you at ease.” He began haltingly. “If we could just talk for a moment Emma, then I’ll leave, please.” The last part took on a begging tone.

All of the sudden the weight of the day seemed to crash down on her, she was exhausted. Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she thought back to earlier in the year when he had told her she needed to start meditating.

“Swan, I’m telling you! It’s god for your soul.” He was playing on the living room floor with Henry, telling her about whatever new fad he had discovered.

“I think my soul will be just fine Jones.” She rolled her eyes at him, knowing that she would probably indulge him anyway. “Alright boys, pizza’s here, go wash up.”

That had been one of the last times she had spent time with him. It was memories like that that never failed to make her smile and hurt these days. After he had started to ignore her, she had actually looked into meditation, and found that it did help, at the very least if gave her exercises to calm herself down and put things in perspective. When she opened her eyes, she made her decision.

“Not tonight Killian, you can explain yourself over breakfast before you leave.” Emma was proud her voice didn’t shake or falter.

Killian nodded, bowing his head slightly. “Then let me say good night Swan, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She moved past him to the master suite. And to her surprise, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. —

Earlier that day

Christmas time in Storybrooke seemed like something out of a movie, Emma was fairly sure she had seen the street decorations on a Hallmark movie she’d watched last night. Waking up early, she played in the snow with Henry, who was excited for the light snowfall, and headed to her parent’s farmhouse for their traditional Saturday breakfast. Henry was babbling away, asking to spend the night with Roland, Regina’s new stepson, and wanting to know when Killian would drop by for decorating the Christmas tree. At that last question, Emma felt a squeeze in her heart, she doubted that he would be coming around anytime soon. The last time they had seen him was August 12th, and that was in passing, he had greeted Henry, gave Emma a small smile, and hurried away. The sting of that last encounter was still fresh.

They turned into the long drive of the farmhouse, it was settled on a few acres of land, and that’s when Emma noticed a car that hadn’t wasn’t familiar to her. She frowned, it wasn’t uncommon for Mary Margaret to invite people to their Saturday breakfast, but she normally gave Emma a head up first. Since Killian hadn’t been coming to breakfast, her mother had taken it upon herself to make Emma feel better by inviting many random people over.

“Gramma! Gramma!” Henry cried as Emma helped him out of the bug. Mary Margaret stood on the porch, only a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders despite the freezing temperatures. She beamed at Henry, ushering him inside to help his grandpa with setting the table.

“Honey! You were running a little late, I was getting worried.” Mary Margaret admonished.

“Henry was excited about the snow.” Emma explained, “He insisted on playing in it before we came over.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “Well shall we eat? Oh! I also invited a special guest over.” She said slyly.

Emma frowned, a feeling of unease twisting in her stomach. “Mom, you’re not going to try setting me up, again are you? I don’t want that, and I definitely don’t want that in front of Henry. Remember Walsh? Graham? August?” She could go on, but hoped she’d made her point.

“Oh no! This is much better sweety! You’ll see! I promise it’s a good surprise.” And then she was hustled into the warm house.

Her mother chattered about her week, moving her to the kitchen. It seemed to Emma that she wasn’t giving her a chance to back out. Her urge to take Henry and run was now going into overtime. Her bad feeling increased when she hears multiple male voices coming from the dining room, and then her vision went slightly red when she recognized the unknown voice. Neal.

She turned to her mother. “You didn’t, tell me you didn’t.”

Mary Margaret kept an innocent look on her face, while a slight gleam in her eye told Emma she in face did do it. She had invited Emma’s horrible ex, Henry’s father, to dinner with them. Neal had shown up back in town in early August, claiming he wanted another chance with her and time with Henry. How dare she keep him from him. She, of course, explained that he had lost those rights to see him when he had set her up for his crime and ran. Never mind the fact that the police had tracked him down at her request and told him about the pregnancy, never mind that he had willingly signed his rights away. When he threatened to sue for custody, her mother had suggested that they try to make their relationship work again. She was a firm believer in true love, and first loves. Neal hadn’t backed down, so even now, Emma was in the process of talking with a lawyer to make sure Henry would be staying with her. Mary Margaret couldn’t understand why Emma wouldn’t give Neal another chance, and she didn’t want to go through all the reasons they were wrong for each other. Including but not limited to the fact that Neal was 26 when he and Emma met, while she was 17.

She walked into the kitchen as calmly as she could, but couldn’t stop from stiffening when Neal came into view. Holding onto Henry, who was trying to squirm to the floor. He was at the age that he didn’t like to be held.

“Neal.” Emma spoke coolly. “Henry doesn’t want to be held.”

Neal rolled his eyes and set Henry down. He understood who Neal was, Emma had sat him down and explained a lot when Neal had first come to town. Killian had been there as well to help him, Emma remembered how worried Henry was that Killian would leave because Neal came back. Of course, Killian had told Henry he would never leave, and then just weeks later, had done just that. She really needed to stop thinking about him, it was not helping her.

“Let’s eat!” Mary Margaret called. The table was filled with their usual ginormous breakfast that they could never finish. So, Emma and Henry were sent home with piles of leftovers.

Once they were all seated, they dug in and talked about random topics. Mostly how Henry was liking second grade, and the fun arts and crafts he was doing. Emma was quiet through most of it, not wanting to talk to Neal, and annoyed at her parents for pushing her when she’d asked them not too. It wasn’t until Henry started talking about the summer that she paid attention and jumped into the conversation.

“And then after schools done, Killian said he’d take me sailing. Gramma did you know he knows how to nava—nava—travel by stars? He said he learned in the Navy! And his ship is huge! It looks like a pirate ship! I think I want to be a pirate for Halloween next year, and Killian can be a pirate too. He couldn’t come trick or treating this year cause he had to work, but I think he’ll be able to next year. He always comes with us. Anyway, he’s gonna show me how to be a real sailor. And Ms. Belle at the library gave me books on sailing and the pictures are awesome! Mom have you asked Killian if he’s coming to my parent job day? It happens in January and he said he would come, but he has lots of work right now and I don’t want him to forget, so you have to remind him.” Henry’s happy voice chattered while stuffing his face with waffles and bacon.

Neal had gone silent at Henry’s turn in conversation. Mary Margaret and David looked uncomfortable. And Emma was annoyed at their reactions more than anything. Killian had been a staple in Henry’s life since he was born, he was there on visiting days at the jail after she’d found out she was pregnant. He was there when they let Emma out after 6 months. He was there when her water had broken just before they were going to visit her parents. He was there in the room with her coaxing her to keep going. He was the first person besides her to hold Henry. He had been there for every single milestone and had more right that Neal did, to be apart of Henry’s life.

“I’ll go to your Parents’ Day with you.” Neal announced. “After all, I’m your father. Killian isn’t. He doesn’t have any right to go!”

“That’s a great idea! Won’t that be fun Henry?” Mary Margaret chimed in brightly.

Emma tensed more when Henry frowned. “But I want Killian to go. He said he would. He’s my friend!” His voice began to tremble, his lower lip poking out. It was time to put an end to it. Even if Killian had up and disappeared on her, he always spoke to Henry when they crossed paths.

“Of course, Killian will be going with you Henry.” Emma comforted, glaring at the other adults, David was the only one who looked chagrined. “He’s never broken a promise to you sweety. In fact, I’ll talk to him in a few days just to confirm.”

Henry calmed down, appeased by her answer. They finished eating in a tense silence, only Henry seemed unaffected. When he asked to be excused to go play in the snow, Emma agreed and made sure he was out the doors before she turned to the other three in the room. Let them say their piece first, she decided. She would let them try to explain, excuse and defend; and then she would give them a piece of her mind.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret began. “Neal deserves to have a bit of a relationship with Henry.”

Neal quickly interrupted, standing from the table. “Look you can’t keep my kid from me! I AM going to parent’s day because he’s MY son. If he doesn’t like it then he’ll have to get over it. I deserve a place in his life, so it’s time for you to get over yourself, because he obviously wants his parents to be together. So, if you would stop being so damn stubborn then maybe we could actually get somewhere. Instead I have to rely on talking to your mom about what you and Henry are up to. And if this continues Emma, I swear I’ll fight for full custody.”

“There’s no need to get mad Neal!” Mary Margaret looked surprised at his outburst. David was about to say something but Emma held up a hand to stop both of them. She leveled a look at Neal.

“Let me be very very clear Neal.” Her voice was soft and deadly. “You are Henry’s father; I’m not disputing that. But you have no rights to him, when you sent me to jail and I found out I was pregnant I didn’t want you in his life at all.”

“I’ve explained that that wasn’t my fault!” Neal began, but was stopped by Emma again.

“The police found you, they asked if you wanted anything to do with your son.”

“I thought they were lying!” He claimed, then withered under her glare.

“You signed your rights away to me, regardless of whether you though they were lying, you signed those rights away. I’ve been in contact with a lawyer,” She almost scoffed at the surprised look on everyone’s faces. “You didn’t think that I would take your threats, lightly did you? You have no legal right to him, I will let you visit him, because he does deserve to know his father. But I have a stable job, a house and a support system. No matter how much money you throw at anyone one, they will look at my record versus yours and I will win.” She paused to let all of that sink in.

“Now onto the Killian issue. He is my best friend. He is, for all intents and purposes, no matter how much any of you don’t like it, Henry’s father. No!” She said loudly when they began to protest. “He might not be Henry’s biological father, but he has been more of a dad to him than you will ever be able to be. He is non-negotiable. He will always be in Henry’s life and there is nothing any of you can say to change that.” Even if he wouldn’t be a part of her life, her heart hurt.

“I knew he was lying when he said he’d back off!” Neal spat. “How long have you been sleeping with him? Probably since before us, but listen, just cause you are willing to whore yourself out to him.”

“That’s enough!” David sprang to his feet, a murderous gleam in his eyes. “You DO NOT talk about my daughter like that. I may have gone along with this stupid plan to try and bring you and Emma back together, but not anymore. I’ve seen enough of you to know that you will never be good enough for my daughter and if you think that you can compare to Killian and what he has done for her, you’ve lost your damn mind. Now get out of my house.” Emma was sure that if she had been paying attention, she would have seen her father wind up for the punch, but she was stuck on Neal’s words. The punch sent him sprawling to the floor, not knocking him out though. When David went to throw him out Emma spoke.

“Wait!” He halted and she moved closer to Neal. “What did you mean he said he’d back off?”

Neal sneered and winced as it hurt his face. “I told him that we were going to get back together but that I needed him gone to make sure you weren’t distracted. You think I haven’t seen the yearning dopey eyed looks? Mary Margaret explained to him that I am Henry’s real dad and he deserves a real family”

“I don’t yearn.” Emma defended, her mind whirling as the last few months fell into place.

“Maybe you don’t, but he does. And he agreed to back off so Henry could have a real family.”

“Get out.” She said, and turned to check on Henry.

She helped him pack up his stuff, they had been planning on staying the night. And said she was going to let him have a sleepover with Roland. Her mom watched with wringing hands as she rushed around to gather all her stuff.

“Emma if I had known—” She began, but Emma stopped her. She asked David to put Henry in the car.

“Mary Margaret, I know you meant well, but this isn’t something I can just overlook. What you did affected not just me but my son. You knew what Neal did to me and you still pushed me towards him, no matter what I said to you. You’ve never accepted Killian, ever, but you accept the man who wrongfully sent me to jail? I can’t just get over that. I need to think.” She was aware as she watched her mothers face crumple that she hadn’t called her Mary Margaret in years, but she sure wasn’t acting like a mother at the moment. She moved to leave and was stopped by David.

“I know you need to think. I called Regina to make sure she knows Henry is coming, she’s ready for him. Here,” He handed her the keys to his jeep. “I put everything in my jeep, take Henry to Regina’s and go to the Cabin. The GPS in the jeep has the coordinates. Take your time sweetheart.” He looked at her sincerely. “I am so sorry, and when you are ready we’ll talk.” — She woke up the next morning and everything came rushing back to her. She stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, it was time to get some more answers. After dressing she moved out to the kitchen and saw Killian sitting at the table. Hot chocolate was sitting across from him, he was staring out the window looking sad and nervous. When she glanced out the window she groaned, causing him to jump. She moved closer to the window and stared at the snow. There was too much, no way either of them was going anywhere for the next few days.

“Swan, I’ve made breakfast. Help yourself.” She went over to the stove to scoop some eggs and bacon onto her plate. When she was seated across from him, she took him in. Last night she wasn’t able to see the dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair was sticking in different directions from him running his fingers through it. But in the light of the day, she could clearly see the lack of sleep, from more than just last night. He looked worn.

“Alright Jones. I want to know what the hell you’re doing here. I want to know why you decided to just up and ignore me for the past four months. I want to know why you broke your promise to me and just disappeared from my life. I want to—” She broke off as her throat tightened, she was not going to cry in front of him, that would just be the perfect end to a shitty few months.

“Please let me explain. I’m not looking to excuse my actions Swan, nor am I looking for you to forgive me. If you’ll just hear me out, I swear I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the time we’re stuck here.”

She nodded for him to continue, bracing herself for his explanation.

“Neal came to me in August, a few weeks after he came back. He wanted me to back off and I refused. You’re my best friend Emma, I wasn’t just going to leave you. He got angry of course, accused both of us of some untoward things. I walked away. You have to know Emma; I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I had too.” He paused to take a drink and calm down. “Your mom came with him the next time. They sat me down and explained that the only thing holding you back from Neal was me. Mary Margaret said you would be happy with Neal, that you wanted to forgive him and move on, to give Henry a real family. She said—” He stopped, looking away from her. “She said I wasn’t good enough for you and that you needed someone to rely on. I asked if she thought Neal was reliable considering what he did. She said yes. They talked to me three more times before I agreed to step back. I just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. Ruby called me and said you’d had a falling out, that ended in David punching Neal and kicking him out. I came to make sure you were okay.”

“Why?” She asked.

He blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you want me to be happy?” She stared intensely at him, and he knew what she was really asking. So, he mentally steeled himself and answered.

“Because I love you Emma, and I want you to have everything you deserve.”

She was silent for a moment, then burst. “You asshole!” She shouted, Killian was taken aback, unsure of what to say.

“You left! You decided that because you loved me and thought that you weren’t good enough that you would just leave?! That you would just BACK OFF.” Her voice was a near screech, only broken by the obvious emotion in it. “Did you think about what I wanted? About what Henry wanted? You bastard!”

Killian was speechless, he had not expected for the conversation to go like this, he had expected her to still kick him out, though he really couldn’t leave with all the snow. And he hadn’t expected the sadness that overrode the anger in her tone.

“You tell me you love me and you say that’s why you left. You are the only one that has been through everything with me. That has stood by me, what did you think I thought of you? That you were a nice consolation prize since my stupid ex was an idiot? Do you think so little of me, that I would go back to him when I’m obviously in love with you? That I would just drop you like you aren’t the best thing to have happened to me besides Henry? That you aren’t already Henry’s father? That we haven’t been dating for who knows how long already?”

“W-What?” Killian Stuttered.

“I mean, neither of us have had a date in years, we were together every week. And I didn’t even realize we were dating until you decided to just ghost me, but we have been and you thought I’d give that up for NEAL?! NEAL?”

“I’m going to need you to back up. I may have misheard.” Killian said carefully.

“I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!!” She practically screamed at him. “I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since you threw that snowball at Jesse Martin when I made fun of my Sunday dress, when I was eight. I love you, and I’ve been afraid to say it, but now that I know why you left. I just—” Finally the tears fell.

Killian was up and around the table in record time. He scooped her up and settled them down on the couch, holding her close. While she cried, he whispered comforts into her ear. He was a bloody idiot. The conversation he’d had with his brother a week ago came to mind. Liam had berated him for being a moron when I came to ignoring Emma, telling him that she missed him and wouldn’t care that her mother didn’t approve.

“Do you really want her back with that wanker?” Liam had demanded.

It had stuck with him and gave him the resolve to talk to her, after Christmas, because he was to much of a coward to deal with rejection before it. Now he saw what a bloody asshole he had been. And now that he knew she felt the same, well he’d be damned if he made the same mistake again. When she had calmed down and wiped away her tears, she ran to the bathroom to compose herself, he let her; when she came back, she looked better, but exhausted.

“I’ve been an idiot.” He confessed, causing her to snort in agreement. “Emma, I love you and Henry so much, I thought if I backed off that you would be happy. Liam made me realize last week that I was lost without you two. I need you more than I can explain. I am so deeply sorry for how much I’ve hurt you. If you don’t forgive me, I’ll understand, but I need you to know that not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.” When he was finished, he looked at her anxiously.

“How do I know it won’t happen again?” Emma looked back with the same anxiety as he felt.

“Have you ever known me to make the same mistake twice?” He asked, her small smile gave him a sliver of hope. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up. You know that more than anyone, we’ve fought over the years, both said stupid things, but I will never let you go if you say you’re mine. You are the most precious treasure I’ve ever come into contact with. I swear to you that you and Henry are my life. I love you more every day I spend with you, and missed you more every day I didn’t.”

Emma breathed deep. “Then I forgive you Killian Jones. And expect you to do some pretty hard groveling.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her like he’d dreamed. It was everything and more, like the world stood still for that one perfect moment, to let them bask in the rightness of it. His heart seemed to beat in time with hers. No matter what came, his heart now belonged to her. Emma felt the same, as his soft lips moved against hers, she could see their future. She could see their eventually wedding, their home, their second child (because of course Henry was already his in every way that counted.), growing old with him. It all fell into place with that kiss.

He moved back to stare at her, the love in his eyes making the blue shine. “I’ll grovel every damn day for the rest of our lives. And now that we’re together, I have so many thoughts on where to begin.” HE wiggled his brows and she laughed, pulling him closer to kiss him.

“Well, we are stuck here for a few more days yet. Let’s see what you’ve got sailor.” She let out a squeak when he swung her into his arms.

“That’s lieutenant to you Swan.” He murmured, his voice deepening as he made his way to the master bedroom. Thinking of how this would be the best Christmas of his life.

“Remind me to thank Ruby when we get back to town.” Her voice breathless with anticipation. Merry Christmas indeed.

— Three years later

Emma curled on the cabin couch with her husband, watching ten-year-old Henry show his little one-year-old sister Hope all the ornaments on the tree. She could here her parents in the kitchen, laughing and preparing dinner. Killian kissed her forehead and leaned down to kiss her stomach.

“Only a two more months little one,” He murmured. “You ready for another Mrs. Jones?”

“Absolutely Mr. Jones.” She responded.

And in the firelight, she reflected on her life, how perfect everything was. She had everything thing that mattered in life.

#Captain Swan #cssecretsanta2k19 #CS fic #gift fic

30 notes · View notes

imyourliquor-youremypoison · 5 years

Text

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 1

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait... how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.

Word count: 1.5k

>>> Part 2

MASTERLIST

Today was blood donation day, the Red Cross invested one of the faculty’s buildings this morning, turning it into a momentary blood bank. About half the student body decided to do the right thing and donate, and so the line was longer than the meet’n’greet line at the San Diego Comic Con Peter attended last year.

And he couldn’t even donate his blood! Unless he wanted to have a Spider-Sidekick turn up one day, Tony had strongly advised him to stay clear of needles outside of his lab. No, Peter Parker stood in this endless line to keep company to Ned, who was afraid of needles but wanted to donate still because he had told a girl he liked that he would.

Peter was half convinced they would still be standing there tomorrow. He should have brought a tent and something to eat. A least something to do. Luckily Ned nervous-babbled to keep his mind busy, or Peter might have fallen asleep while standing – last night’s mission had lasted longer than planned and he hadn’t had as much sleep as a college student would hope for.

“Hey, it’s my turn next,” Ned told him, nudging him in the ribs and waking Peter from his little snooze.

And sure enough, they stood right next to the doctor’s little desk. Five doctors had set up their desks behind large panels as if those guaranteed any intimacy at all. Peter recognized the girl sitting in the chair at the nearest desk as one of his fellow classmates. He only knew her first name, or rather, her nickname. She didn’t look like she had any close friends, but most people called her Em. So, Emily, or Emma, he guessed.

He briefly wondered why this girl always kept to herself. She was always well put together, he had never heard her say something off, she didn’t smell weird, and he had no reason to think she wasn’t intelligent. Then again, she must have her reasons, and whatever they were, they were none of his business.

Okay, so, maybe he did notice her because he thought she was pretty, but that was it, and it still didn’t make it his business.

A part of him knew it wasn’t nice to eavesdrop, but Peter was bored out of his mind and he had no ill intention, it was just plain curiosity. Ned had finally stopped talking his ears off, therefore nothing stopped him from listening.

“Name and date of birth please,” the doctor asked, his voice as toneless as expected after a day of saying the same thing over and over again.

“Emmeline Gerard, April 1st 1996,” she answered just as flatly.

Not Emily or Emma then, well… Peter didn’t think too hard about it, but the doctor seemed to pause and the young woman momentarily gained his full attention as his eyes switched between her and the application form in his hand.

“Yes, I’m his daughter,” she snapped, clearly having been there and done that before.

The doctor hadn’t even asked anything, but Peter guessed the question was obvious – the man must know her father, whoever he was. A fellow practitioner maybe? He didn’t even know why he cared, but this was the most thrilling interaction he had witnessed today.

The doctor shook his head and resumed his questions.

“Did you eat and drink something before coming? Do you feel ready to donate blood?”

Peter’s attention dwindled from then on, until she was almost done.

“Any medical history in your family?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met them,” she quipped, sending the old man a clipped smile that showed nothing but restrained annoyance. “I’m adopted.”

Upon hearing that, Peter turned cherry red. He shouldn’t have been listening in on that doctor-patient conversation. Yet, he felt oddly drawn to her after hearing that she was an orphan like him. Sure, she had been adopted and her father was apparently someone of importance, but still, it tugged at Peter’s heartstrings.

Her one on one with the doctor quickly came to an end, but he didn’t let her go without a final word.

“Please tell your father I wish him the best of luck for the election to come!” he called just as the young woman grabbed her bag and stood up to leave.

She froze, put her bag on her shoulder, clutching at the strap so hard Peter thought she must have been picturing the doctor’s neck in its stead, and she smiled. The smile was wrong, it had something off.

“I will. Good day, doctor.”

Peter knew, by the sound of her voice and the way her smile immediately dropped when she turned around, that she would never, not even in a million years, tell her father. She walked around the panel and nearly bumped right into him.

“Oh, sorry, I-“ Peter started, feeling as though he had been caught red handed doing something bad. This was the first time he even opened his mouth in her presence.

“Oh great! You heard everything, now didn’t you?!” she snapped, clearly mad though he wasn’t convinced it was entirely his fault. That conversation must have rubbed her the wrong way. “God fucking dammit,” she cursed. “Well, go on, it’s your turn!”

She stood slightly aside to tell him in so she could walk out but Peter only stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“I-I’m not donating, I’m just here with-“ He had barely gestured towards Ned, who now watched the two, before she cut him off.

“Even better! Out of my way, then.”

She pushed him aside, elbowing her way out of the little crowd that had formed around the door so she could go to the next stall where she’d finally make that donation, now that all the formalities were over.

“Who was that?” Ned asked Peter, watching the enraged girl stride away, her angry vibes making people step out of her way.

“Emmeline Gerard,” Peter answered offhandedly, eyes not leaving her form until she was out of sight. Ned simply frowned because her name meant nothing to him, but he didn’t get the time to ask any further questions.

“Next!” the doctor called, and Ned stepped in, leaving Peter to stand in the hallway with the hundred other people waiting there.

He made a mental note to look her up tonight.

“Can you believe this? I can’t even talk to a doctor without hearing about my father!” she ranted, making angry hand gestures while Bella watched on, titling her head to the left. “You’d think a doctor would be a little more professional than that! Bringing politics into a medical consultation, ugh!” she groaned, finally seeming to calm down a little.

She had been chewing on her tongue all day, biting off harsh remarks whenever somebody dared look her way. That poor boy she lashed out on this morning! He looked vaguely familiar; she must have a class with him – she would have to apologize if she saw him then.

“I just-“ she started, glancing at Bella who walked beside her. “I’m so sick of only being somebody’s daughter.”

Bella’s ears perked up and she looked up at Emmeline, her big brown eyes full of questions.

“Of course, you don’t understand my problems, do you?” She knelt down and scratched Bella’s ears, watching her tail wag now that she had her owner’s full attention. “Your only concern in life is when you’ll next have to go to the vet.”

The sun was setting now, the last orange rays filtering between New York City’s buildings. Her walks in Central Park with Bella were supposed to be a moment of relaxation – not a moment to scare the kids hanging there with her grumbling. Most must think her crazy for ranting at her dog.

But Bella didn’t mind – at least Emmeline thought so – and she couldn’t give less of a crap what people thought of her. Her father would; in fact, her father gave many craps what people thought of him and, by extension, his family. Emmeline had never liked the word family, it just never made sense to her. She was born and immediately abandoned and then she was placed into the arms of another set of parents whose love never left right.

“Thank you for listening, Bel,” she told the happy dog who waited for her to unhook the leash so she could run around for a bit.

Pitbulls were considered dangerous dogs and Bella had to wear a muzzle every time they went out – it broke Emmeline’s heart but it was the law. She couldn’t play fetch with her like this, but at least she could play with other dogs in the park. A lot of them already knew each other, and Emmeline waved at an old lady who walked her labradoodle, Sir Henry.

She watched them run in circles for a while.

“I can’t speak about this with anyone else,” she muttered to herself, eyes never leaving her dog. “Who would pity the beloved mayor of New York’s daughter? I’m supposed to be the luckiest girl in the city.”

Reblog to save a writer

Comment if you wanna be tagged!

52 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 115: Only You

Imagine a world where everything you thought to be fiction or myth turned out to be real. Imagine a world, larger than life, where Gods ruled, a simple kiss from a Prince really could wake a Princess, and the lines between good and evil were not as defined as one might think. Imagine that all the stories you think you know so well turned out to be much different than you thought. Imagine if magic was as real as science. Imagine if you didn't have to imagine any of that and it was all true…

"This is what you have so far?" Greg asked, as a barrage of real footage they had collected and images they had captured played on the screen after Landon's voice over ended.

"Yeah...it's great, don't you think?" he asked.

"It looks like a movie trailer. No one is going to think it's anything other than that," Greg complained, as he paced the room.

"I can't believe that three years of work and this is what we have," he growled.

"Hey...this is good. We have some really damning footage of real magic being performed and real life depictions of actual people that are thought to be fictional characters," Landon admonished.

"That no one will believe!" Greg argued.

"After three years...we have nothing! My father's bones are buried in the FBI crime lab, because no one cares about a thirty-three year old crime! And you've just made a fancy movie trailer that I'm sure any Hollywood studio would love to fund, but I have nothing!" Greg raged.

"Calm down...we can take a different approach with the footage. Maybe I got a bit cinematic with the voice over," Landon agreed.

"You think?" Greg snapped. Landon sighed.

"The crime lab is still our in with all of this. I know it's been a long time, but they will get back to us. They'll get a match. They may already have, but opening a cold case will have to go through proper channels. But that's good for us," he continued.

"How?" Greg asked.

"Because if they do match your DNA to the remains and identify him as your missing father...that will attract the attention of some of the higher ups. Opening a cold case that's over thirty years old doesn't happen every day," Landon replied. Greg sighed.

"Fine...just do something about that silly voice over," he said.

"Relax…I'll get rid of the voice over and turn on the regular audio. Maybe if we just go with the bare bones footage, people will see that it's completely unedited," Landon replied, as they watched some of the unedited footage.

"I just want her to pay…" Greg growled.

"I mean...she killed my father, but they allowed her to remain free and move on. All this bull about how she's redeemed herself and even found love! It's ridiculous! She deserves to be in prison!" Greg ranted.

"I agree with you...and maybe we can take a different strategy," Landon said.

"Like what?" Greg asked.

"Well...we've managed to acquire a few beans without them knowing over the years. Hell, they've grown so many that they'd never miss them even if we took a bushel. Maybe it's time to go to the FBI and make them listen. Maybe it's time to find a way to make her confess. We get her outside Storybrooke...there's no magic there to protect any of them," Landon replied.

"How are we going to do that?" Greg asked.

"She has a son...she has someone she loves now. We can use them to get her to do whatever we want," Landon replied.

"We'd have to lure them away from the rest," Greg reminded.

"Not easy...but not impossible either," Landon surmised.

"Okay...let's do it. Let's make her confess and then take her to them," Greg agreed.

"Great...in the meantime, I'll shop this tape around the Internet. No credible documentary company will pay it any mind. But on the dark web...that will be a different story. If we can get people talking about it...then eventually, it will go viral," Landon said.

~*~

Snow's emerald eyes opened and she smiled, as she found herself firmly ensconced in her husband's arms.

"Good morning," he said in a husky tone, as they shared a kiss.

"Good morning handsome," she purred back, as he held her close and they heard some babbling coming from the baby monitor.

"Sounds like someone else is awake," she mentioned. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I'll get her," he said, as he ventured off to the adjoining nursery. She heard their bedroom door open at that point and smiled at the sound of tiny feet beating it toward the bed. She leaned over and pretended to jump in surprise.

"Boo!" little Xander exclaimed and Snow gasped, as she helped him climb onto their large, King sized bed.

"Good morning sweetheart," she cooed, as she settled him in her lap and kissed his blonde haired head.

"Morning mommy…" he cooed in return, as he was focused on playing with the toys he had brought with him. About that time, David returned with their baby. Ten months ago, Snow had given birth to their third child, a little girl they decided to name Iris. While their son had inherited David's coloring in hair and eyes, their second daughter had very fine raven colored hair like Snow and David's blue eyes as well.

"Daddy!" Xander called, as David sat down on the bed with them and let the baby crawl between them, while his son jumped into his arms.

"What do you have there, little man?" he asked, as he noticed the toy horse in his hand.

"Horsie," he replied, as his baby sister had crawled into Snow's lap. David had changed her, but she was ready to nurse. He helped her settle down in bed and she began to nurse their daughter. These were their typical mornings, spent quietly together, before their daily routine would set in. They ruled together equally. David spent much of his time overseeing the defense side of their Kingdom and Sheriffing all the Realms with Emma, which he greatly enjoyed. Snow handled the day to day tasks on the diplomatic side, though there were many meetings they attended together, especially when military officials visited from other Kingdoms.

During the day, Ruth, Serafina, and Robert happily watched their grandchildren, as did Hades, Persephone, and Eli when their ruling duties allowed it. But Snow and David's children weren't the only ones keeping their six grandparents busy. There had been many changes to their family and it had grown in more ways than one.

"You go ahead and clean up first. And then we can switch," Snow said.

"You sure?" he asked. She nodded and cuddled the baby and their son, who was very occupied with his toys.

"Okay...then I'll get the munchkins dressed while you clean up. Then we'll go get breakfast," he said, as he kissed her tenderly.

"Granny's?" Xander asked. David chuckled.

"Yeah...we'll go to Granny's," he agreed.

"I want pancakes," he announced.

"Mmm...pancakes sound good. With blueberries," Snow said.

"No...chocolate chip, like Emmy has," Xander replied, making them chuckle.

"Okay...chocolate chip it is," Snow agreed, as he smiled at them and went to shower.

~*~

James looked out over his Kingdom from the balcony of the King's bed chambers. It was almost mind boggling how much his life had changed in the last three years since he had been miraculously resurrected. He was sure now that if Cronus knew for certain that he couldn't count on James' loyalty, he probably wouldn't have chosen to bring him back. But the God of Time had much bigger problems than him. He didn't know much about Cronus' original plan, except it had involved eliminating Zeus and then claiming the power of the skies. But that power had chosen Persephone as its new champion and had almost guaranteed that Cronus would never rise to power. He had settled into ruling his own Kingdom for the last three years and while they would always be leery of him, he was not the biggest threat out there.

After Leopold unfairly took back his own Kingdom, James had opened his castle to Regina and Henry, giving them a place to stay close. While they could have returned to the mansion in Storybrooke, Regina knew Henry wanted to be close to his biological family and Regina was sincerely working on repairing her relationship with Snow; much to his sister-in-law's delight.

It was a surprising thing to see Regina and Snow become good friends, especially after all the bad blood between them. But Regina had really committed to becoming a better person, for herself and for Henry. He understood her journey better than anyone, so it probably shouldn't have surprised them when they fell in love. But they did and after the shock had worn off, they had entered into a loving relationship, one like he had never had and never expected to have. And one she like she hadn't experienced since Daniel, except for what she found with James became far more powerful. With Daniel, it had been true love, but quite innocent and unburdened. But with James, they both still had darkness in them and would always struggle with it. But among all that, they had found kindred spirits in one another and ultimately a love neither of them expected or was even looking for, or so they thought.

"Why are you up?" Regina complained sleepily, as she put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his back. He smirked and turned so he could put one arm around her.

"Sorry...you know I get this way before we have big diplomatic meetings with the other Kingdoms," he said.

"Yeah...I kind of miss the days where I could just storm in and they would agree to whatever I want," she mused.

"This democracy thing definitely comes with more bickering than I like and having to be in a room with Midas and Leopold for hours makes me want to drink," he agreed. She smirked.

"Well...we still have a while until we have to be ready. I can give you something to think about during the meeting," she purred. He smirked and turned to her, as they engaged in a passionate kiss.

"We're supposed to meet everyone for breakfast," he reminded, as she led him back inside.

"Henry is with Emma and Neal so we can be a little late," she replied, as he eagerly followed her back to bed.

~*~

Henry sat in front of the television that morning in their sitting room, playing video games, while his parents shuffled around. The blonde baby girl in Neal's arms fussed a bit, while he dug through her diaper bag.

"Henry...have you seen Tallie's stuffed unicorn?" Neal asked.

"Nope," the teen replied and Neal rolled his eyes.

"Then stop playing the game and help me look. You know how fussy she gets without it," he said. Henry paused the game and started to look around, before finding it behind the sofa.

"Hey...big brother to the rescue," Neal said, as he showed their six-month-old daughter the stuffed toy. She grabbed onto it with chubby hands and calmed down, allowing him to put her in the stroller, as Emma came downstairs.

"Okay...let's go have breakfast and then we'll get you off to school, kid. Do you have your homework?" Emma asked.

"Yep," Henry replied, as he grabbed his backpack and turned the television off.

"Hey sweetheart...are you giving Daddy a rough time?" Emma cooed to their daughter.

"Like her mother," Neal deadpanned.

"Please...you love it," she said, nudging her fiance.

"Yeah...I do. I probably should have my head examined," he joked.

"Wouldn't do any good. No doctor can fix you," she joked back.

"Haha," he mocked sarcastically.

"Are we going or not? I'm starving," Henry complained.

"You're fourteen. You're always starving," Neal quipped, as he pushed the stroller out and they walked through one of Hades insta-portals, as they had come to call them, and arrived in front of Granny's for breakfast.

~*~

"Okay sweetie...there all cleaned up," Belle cooed, as she blew a raspberry on her little boy's tummy and he giggled. Rumple smiled from the doorway of the nursery in their castle.

"Everything in order?" he asked.

"Oh yes...we just had a bit of a diaper emergency. I don't think we'll be having anymore strained apricots for dinner anymore," she replied, as she finished dressing him and picked him up.

"You know, I could have cleaned him up with a wave of my hand," he quipped. She shot him a look.

"And I told you I don't want you changing Gideon's diapers with magic," she chided.

"Fine...but can I at least get rid of the dirty one?" he countered.

"Now that would be okay," she agreed, as the dirty diaper disappeared. She looked at him suspiciously.

"Where do all those dirty diapers go when you poof them away?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Who says that I don't just disintegrate them?" he answered with his own question.

"Because the other day, when we were at Snow's and David's, you made one disappear and Hades seemed to think it was funny," she responded. He smirked.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.

"You're right...it's probably best that I don't," she replied, as she handed their son to him and got his diaper bag. An insta-portal opened and they stepped through, arriving in front of Granny's.

~*~

"Ohhh...there they are. Come to Nana…" Persephone gushed, as Snow and David arrived at Granny's with the little ones.

"Nana!" Alexander called, as he rushed to her and she lifted him into her lap.

"Hello my handsome boy," she cooed, while Hades poofed a stuffed three-headed dog for him to play with you.

"You three spoil them rotten," Snow admonished, as she hugged her father.

"That is what Grandparents are for," Eli said, as eagerly took his tiny granddaughter in his arms. Snow shook her head in amusement and sat down beside her husband. Since her father's royal role these days was simply as an adviser, he had been very happy. The stress she had seen upon him while she was growing up, at least in the alternate reality, was gone and for that, she was very happy for him. Surprisingly to some, Hades was happy ruling beside her mother and gladly maintained his supportive role to her. He had naturally worried about his former Throne and who was taking care of the dead. It was very big job and one he took seriously. He regretted the years where he had ruled unjustly, but when they managed to learn that Prometheus had exited Elysian to take up the mantle, that had been a relief to him. Prometheus was a fair man and had always been an ally to mortals, being that he had gone against Zeus long ago when he gave fire to mortals. He had paid for it dearly, but had been rewarded a hero's afterlife in Elysian by Hades, centuries ago, much to Zeus' chagrin.

Persephone had proven equally that her new role as God of the Skies was very well suited to her as well. The last three years in the United Realms had yielded peace and for that, Snow was incredibly grateful. There were still conflicts, crime, and the normal day to day strife that any society faced, but peace had mostly reigned.

"Hey…" Emma called, as they were the next to arrive.

"Hey sweetie," Snow said, as she hugged her parents, while David eagerly lifted Tallie out of her stroller.

"Hey there peanut…" he cooed and patted his grandson on the arm.

"Oh...that reminds me," David said. Snow smiled and dug out some comic books from the pocket on their stroller.

"Wow...thanks Gramps," Henry said, as he accepted the gift.

"And Nana and Papa didn't forget you, sweetie," Snow cooed, as they presented her with a new stuffed sheep.

"You seriously just lectured us about spoiling our grandchildren," Hades mentioned. Snow smiled at him.

"Well, like you said...it's what grandparents do," she mused.

"Grandparents usually don't have kids the same age as their grand kids though," Emma teased.

"You shush and Iris got a new stuffed toy too when we picked out one for Tallie," Snow replied, as Rumple and Belle were next to arrive with Gideon.

"Hey…sorry, we're a bit late. We had to change clothes already this morning," Belle mentioned. Snow winced.

"We've had those mornings too," she replied. Gideon and Iris were only about a month apart. Snow and Belle had gotten pregnant nearly at the same time and being pregnant together had made them even closer friends. It had served to do the same for David and Rumple as well.

"Sorry we're late…" Regina said, as she and James finally arrived and she kissed Henry on his head, as they sat down.

"It's okay...our order is already in," Snow said.

"How do you know what I want?" Regina replied.

"Apple pancakes, mom...you're kind of predictable," Henry teased, making James chuckle in amusement. She nudged him.

"Very funny, you...new comics?" she asked. He smiled and slid one over to her.

"Yep," he answered, as she opened it to read, while they waited on breakfast and conversation flowed effortlessly as usual when they all managed to get together. Robert, Ruth, and Serafina arrived last, completing their family gathering, just as breakfast was delivered.

~*~

Ravenna paced in the secluded chamber of her palace, where Claude Frollo had conducted his work and experiments for the past three years. It was painstaking work and she felt no closer to any of her goals. If she didn't hold control over him, then she might think he wasn't doing what she asked. But unfortunately, the particular thing she was asking for was not easily accomplished.

Originally, she had wanted to find a way to curse her former step-daughter. She wanted her to suffer a fate worse than death, but she had quickly learned that there was no curse that existed that true love could not overcome. It became clear that death was the only thing that true love could not save her from. And so the search to find the perfect way to kill Snow White began. She wanted her to suffer and she wanted those around her to suffer losing her. She was so tired of her being the one that all the Kingdoms adored. She had everything. True love with a handsome, loving husband, who thought the sun rose and set with her. Three beautiful children and a large family full of people that would do absolutely anything for her. In addition to that, most of the people in the Kingdoms, particularly her own adored her and still called her the fairest of them all.

Her jealousy had steadily grown and her hatred with it. Hans had implored her to let it go, as he could see nothing good coming of it for their Kingdom. His older brothers agreed as well, but with Arawn still imprisoned for war crimes, Ravenna was next in line and had ruled flippantly. Her own interests were first, while the people did without. She was a very unpopular Queen and their own people constantly discussed how much better the rulers of some of other Kingdoms were. Snow White was always mentioned among them, which only further enraged their sister.

But Ravenna refused to work for her people in favor of fulfilling her own interests. She was always harshly criticized at the United Realm Council meetings and Hans was sure today would be no different.

"We may finally be onto something today," Frollo said.

"You've said that before and it always goes up in smoke," Ravenna retorted.

"And without this cauldron, you may never have gotten this far," he argued.

"Fine...do you have it then?" she asked.

"Not yet...but my research has revealed one crucial ingredient we need for success. Unfortunately, it is not available in our Enchanted Forest," he replied.

"Then where can we get what we need?" she demanded to know.

"Another magical forest...across the ocean," he answered. She had heard of this place and could even see it in the distance from her vantage point. It was still a mysterious place and the only place that had not sent a dignitary to join the United Realms Council. Very little was known about it still and there were even plans to send a group of diplomats there to make contact. No one was certain of why no one from this land had sent their own individuals out, but they had so far respected their obvious desire to remain isolated. If they still planned to send a team, she knew they would never choose to send her. They were always claiming she was too volatile and had an irresponsible rule. But that would not stop her from going there if the ingredient she needed was somewhere in that forest.

"Then we will leave for this new land, in secret, after today's Council meeting," she decided.

"Yes, my Queen," Frollo agreed, though he had little choice. As long as she held the Promethean flame, the very first and famed flame the God Prometheus had given to man, she would be able to control his every move.

~*~

Breakfast was finishing up and they paid their checks, while preparing to hand off all the little ones to Ruth, Robert, and Serafina, who were happily watching all of them, while they were attending the monthly Council meeting that morning.

"Okay kid...bus is pulling up outside," Emma said, as she hugged him and Regina did as well, as she kissed him on the head. He and Neal bumped fists, as he headed out to the bus

"Have a good day sweetie," Snow called, as he waved to his family. Just as they prepared to head back to the castle, Emma's phone rang.

"Sheriff," she answered, as she listened to the complaint on the other end.

"All right...we'll be right there," she said, with an eye roll.

"Another active bar fight at the Rabbit Hole," she said, as she put her jacket on.

"I'll give you a hand," David said, as he kissed Snow quickly.

"I'll catch up to you at the meeting," he promised. She nodded.

"Be careful," she called to both of them.

"Need an extra hand?" James asked.

"Couldn't hurt," David agreed, as his twin kissed Regina and followed them out. Snow smiled, as she watched her husband and daughter do what they did best. Helping and protecting people. She kissed her little ones and Ruth smiled at her.

"Off to save the day again, those two," she said fondly.

"As always. Thanks for watching them," Snow said.

"You know we love it," Seraphina replied. To have the three of them to help out was invaluable. Snow was not a fan of hiring a nanny and since her children had so many grandparents to help out, such had not be necessary.

"Well, I guess we better get to the Council meeting," she said, as they left the diner as well. She couldn't say that they ever accomplished a lot in their meetings, but they were still important to get all the leaders together in order to discuss the issues. She always hoped for less arguing and more solutions, which she did not always receive. Thus was the reality of politics. David usually got even more annoyed than her, for her husband was always one for action. But the diplomacy and this process were important and necessary, even if the results were slow to be realized most of the time. But she felt that the future had never been brighter as far as she was concerned and she only hoped that their relative peace continued to reign...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #AU #PersephonexHades #Greek Mythology meets fairy tales #The United Realms #romance #adventure #family #dreaming out loud

1 note · View note

anonymouswriter2311 · 6 years

Note

I'm not sure if someone had already asked you to write this or not. Can you write more with Alice and Robin's interaction with Zelena and little Robin in 722? I really want to see how Zelena react to her future daughter, and maybe some Alice and Robin with little Robin. Love you!

Thanks for the prompt, loved it!

Little Robin’s Adventures, Chapter 1: Strange New People

Robin pulled a protective arm around her shaking love as they ducked behind a nearby fence. The fear of almost being shot by a crossbow, still taking a toll on their jittering bodies.

“When you told me about Storybrooke, you said warm hugs and apple pies, not crossbows to my head!” Alice whisper shouted as her grip tightened on the brunette.

“I swear if I had my bow!” Robin muttered under her breath, but because of their close proximity, the blonde heard every word.

“You wouldn’t do anything! You know these people and they are just scared…we both know what it’s like to react without thinking.” Alice added, before placing a small kiss on the archer’s nose.

“I’ve still never aimed a crossbow at someone’s head.” Robin defending her decision, prompting a sharp laugh from her blonde girlfriend.

“You forgetting how we met my love?” Alice playfully pushed the archer away from their embrace, almost instantly missing the warmth of the taller girl.

“Point taken.” Robin rolled her eyes at the blonde when she noticed a familiar car pulling up across the road from them. “Hey, look! It’s Aunt Regina’s car. If we tell her Henry’s in trouble, she’ll believe us no matter what our story is.” The archer bounced happily, before pushing the gate and dragging her love over to the Mercedes. Freezing when she saw that instead of her Aunt Regina stepping out, it was her Mother and her much younger self.

“You can stop staring,” Zelena smirked as she took a fussing Robin by the hand. “Yes, it’s me. The Wicked Witch. I’m fabulous!” The redhead added, as older Robin stood gobsmacked as she looked at her Mother and younger self.

“Mom…” Robin whispered while Alice took in the scene before her. She had met the redhead woman a few times before, but she had never looked as glamorous as she did now.

“Who are they, Mommy?” Little Robin asked as she stuck her tongue out at her older self. Alice’s eyes widened in delight as she gushed over the cute little Robin in front of her.

“Oh my! You’re simply adorable! I just want to cuddle her!” Alice whispered excitedly, as she tried to walk towards the little girl, but she was quickly stopped by Robin’s hand around her wrist.

“I’m not sure my little monkey.” The redhead coed, before turning to face them. “Well did you want a selfie or are you just going to stand there all bloody day?” Zelena glared at the brunette, with a weird feeling of familiarity.

“Umm, we were looking for Regina?” Alice stepped forward, knowing that Robin was too shocked by the sight of her Mother and younger self to speak. “Hello, little one.” Alice smiled brightly at the child, who looked up curiously at her with Robin signature smirk plastered on her 5-year-old face.

“Hi…” Robin blushed, before hiding behind her mother. This action alone was enough to melt the blonde’s heart, but it worsened as Little Robin peeked out from behind. “You’re pretty…”

“Why thank you…” Alice found herself blushing right back, before turning her attention back to the redheaded woman. “Is she around?”

“She’s not here. She and Emma took Henry on a graduation trip…just move along before I turn you both into flying monkeys.” Zelena snarled at the blonde, who was ignoring her and smiling brightly at the little girl peeking through her legs.

“No, you won’t.” Robin finally spoke up, earning a raise of an eyebrow from her Mother. “I happen to know that you don’t have magic right now.”

“Excuse me?” Zelena smirked while giving the girl the once over, hoping that it would intimidate the stranger enough to back down before she said something she would regret.

“That’s why you’re driving Robin to Ashley’s daycare.” Robin gestured to Little Robin, who smirked back at the brunette. “If you had magic you’d just poof there…you always hated driving, especially that car cause the brakes always jerk. But really it’s just because you have a lead foot.” Robin smiled fondly at the memory of her childhood in this town.

“How do you know my name?” Little Robin snapped, breaking the intense stare off Robin and Zelena were having.

“I know a lot of things about you kid…like how you keep a stash of gummy bears under your mattress, but you should probably remove them before they melt into the carpet.” Robin smiled back, watching the smile on the child’s face drop.

“How did you-”

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” Zelena shouted, pushing Robin behind her. “How the hell do you know so much about me and my daughter?”

“Okay…this may be a little hard to process, but that 5-year-old girl standing behind you…that’s me! So, you better get your game face on, and go and get that magic bean that is hiding in the cupboard because our family needs your help!” Robin ranted, as Zelena looked at her like she was a crazy person.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that my now grown-up daughter has travelled back in time just to get my help? Where is me from your time? I’m not…am I?” Zelena looked on worried.

“God no! And we didn’t exactly travel back in time…”

“We were cursed by my crazy Mother and she sent us back in time, so instead of Robin being 25 here…she’s an adorable little 5-year-old.” Alice coed at the little brunette, whose face grew red.

“Alice…” Robin hissed, grabbing her hand to pull her away from the child, that Alice couldn’t help but want to cuddle once again.

“What is with our family and curses!” Zelena mumbled as Little Robin shot daggers at Robin for touching the pretty blonde.

“Where are they?!” The group jumped at the sound of Granny shouting from a few streets away. Suddenly terrified, Alice jumped into Robin’s arms, afraid that the crazy woman with the crossbow was coming after her again. Sensing that the blonde was truly petrified, Robin placed a small kiss on her head as she stroked her hair, successfully calming the girl down.

“Come on! I’ve got somewhere you can be safe.” Zelena quickly opened the car, ushering Little Robin and Alice into the back seats, while Robin sat up front with her Mother. Little Robin was quick to move as close as possible to the blonde, much to Robin’s embarrassment.

“It’s okay little one, there’s no need to be scared,” Alice spoke softly as she wrapped a protective arm around the little girl, who gladly cuddled into her arms.

“I’m not scared.” Both Robin’s said in unison, making both Alice and Zelena giggle at the cuteness of the brunettes.

“So, you’re me? And I’m you?” Little Robin asked from her place practically on Alice’s lap.

“Yep…” Robin mumbled as she looked over her shoulder at the confused child.

“Woah…and I get to be friends with you when I’m older?” Little Robin turns to face Alice, who nodded excitedly.

“Yeah…the best of friends,” Robin mumbled, knowing all too well that Little Robin was a long way from her questioning stage and all the heartbreak that came with it.

“Awesome!” Little Robin jumped slightly, before snuggling into Alice’s side, content that was going to be able to see the blonde woman again someday.

“Seems like she’s taken great the shine to your girl…that will be an awkward one to tell the grandkids.” Zelena winked, before reaching over and taking Robin’s hand in her own. “I don’t know what future me is like…but I just want you to know that…that I’m proud of you Robin. I always have been, you’ve always been your own person and today I got to see it from a different perspective. Alice is a lovely young woman.” Zelena smiled brightly before the car jerked to a stop outside of Robin’s childhood home.

“Mommy, do I get to come with you and pretty Alice on the adventure?” Little Robin asked sweetly.

“Not this time Monkey…well not this version of you anyway,” Zelena mumbled before hopping out of the car to retrieve the magic bean she had been saving.

“Next time kid…” Robin winked knowingly at the small child, who even though they were the same person, had a rather dislike for her older version.

“But I wanna stay with Alice!” Little Robin whined.

“Don’t fret little one…I will always be with you,” Alice smiled brightly. “Feel that?” Alice asked as she took the child’s hand and placed it on her heart. “We keep each other in here…one day, many years from now. We will meet again, and our hearts will know that we are already very special to one another.” Alice paused as she looked up at Older Robin. “You just need to listen to your heart!”

“I’m gonna miss you pretty Alice.” Little Robin cried as Alice wrapped her arms tightly around the small girl.

“And I’m gonna miss you so much little one, I’m so happy that I got to meet you!” Alice placed a small kiss on her head, before giving her older counterpart a sad smile.

“I called Ruby. She’s on her way over.” Zelena announced as she gestured for everyone to get out of the car. “I couldn’t sense your magic, so I took a wild guess…” Zelena mumbled as she held out a bow that once belonged to Robin’s Father.

“I get to use that?!” Little Robin gasped.

“One day kid, but that doesn’t mean that you get to neglect your magic…it’s just as much of a part of you as this bow.” Robin smiled, as she took the bow in her hand.

“You…we are so cool!” Little Robin quickly dashed over to hug her older self, finally letting go of the jealous chip that had been on both of their shoulders.

“If you two are quite finished…we have a family to save!”

AO3

#curiousarcher #mad archer #curiousarcherff #robin hood #alice x robin #alice jones #Little Robin #zelena mills #once upon a time ff #one shot #prompt #Little Robin’s Adventure’s

63 notes · View notes

calendiles-remade · 6 years

Text

Why “s7 of ouat doesn’t exist”

I know OUAT has basically faded from Tumblr’s collective consciousness, but seeing as it’s ending soon, I figured I might as well.

As you may have noticed, this particular statement is currently written in my about page, I stand by it, and I wanted to address it (also I really just haven’t had a good old-fashioned TV rant in ages). Like many others, I hold the opinion that this show peaked years ago (in season 3 honestly, but that’s neither here nor there). But this season was just the literal Worst (as of the time of writing, up to episode 16 has aired), and the last few episodes might make it all worthwhile, but that seems unlikely. Anyway, the full rant is under the cut to save those who don’t care (or disagree) the annoyance of scrolling through it.

Spoilers, obviously.

1) The plot...is literally season one’s plot

Now, the plot of season one was never the show’s strongest, and I found myself way more interested in the flashbacks during that season than what was actually happening in Storybrooke. The thing is though, this season’s plot is literally the exact same thing. Little kid finds their parent and spends an entire season trying to convince them the curse is a thing. Incessantly. And it’s the exact same curse, with the exact same characters being awake essentially (Regina and Gold). I know the thing about Henry dying if the curse is broken was supposed to add extra drama but...it doesn’t in my opinion. Even “kid almost dying” was already done in season one.

2) The timing makes absolutely no sense

Why are some characters ageing while others aren’t? Regina, Hook, Emma, etc. all seemed the same age when they came to the other realm to see Henry, which okay, fine, maybe time passes slower in Storybrooke’s world. I’ll buy that. But that doesn’t explain why later so much time passes for Rumple and Belle? Or how Zelena doesn’t appear to get older when Robin does? Speaking of which, Regina and New Hook didn’t age in the alternate Enchanted Forest either? I honestly don’t understand it, and I’m not sure why they felt the need for such a convoluted timeline. In previous seasons, they used to say the actual year or at least “long ago”, but now time seems entirely meaningless and they’re just doing whatever they want and we’re not supposed to think about it too hard.

3) The relationships

This part may be more a personal thing, but I wasn’t a fan of any of the relationships in this season. Alice x Robin was kinda just introduced to us with no reasoning or build up, which is kinda important if you want people to actually get invested in the relationship. I get that they’ve been showing more of how the relationship came to be in the recent episodes, but you would think they would start off with that instead of tacking it on later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad there’s finally more LGBT+ and POC representation on this show, but this one just seems forced, kinda like Dorothy x Ruby. It’s like they know a big part of this fandom wanted SwanQueen and this is their meagre attempt at trying to provide f/f relationships even though the best option for that was staring the writers in the face for six seasons.

Regina x Facilier also came out of nowhere, I’m pretty sure I heard about it on Insta and was completely blindsided. Now, I’m not sure about everyone else, but to me generally being blindsided that a ship is coming usually isn’t a good sign. And plus, I generally wasn’t excited about the idea of Regina in a relationship with a villain. Like, after such a long redemption arc, it’s like they’re throwing it away and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this show feels the need to pair basically everyone off, I honestly think they should have just let Regina be (honestly what I’ve been saying every time they make her suffer tbh), because it would have been really nice to see her be happy without a man.

And to be real, Cinderella x Henry didn’t seem to have much chemistry either in my opinion. I didn’t actively dislike it, but it just seemed boring and mostly just like the writers wanted to establish this relationship without actually working for it. I feel like that’s the case for all of the romances this season, honestly.

4) Weak villains

Honestly, the villains in this show have never been my favourite, but they seemed especially boring in this season. Lady Tremaine/Rapunzel turned out to not even be the main villain of the season even though the beginning of the season treated her that way. The concept of her character was neat, but I think they missed a lot of opportunities. I do actually think Drizella is a somewhat interesting character, but she doesn’t make the best villain. It seems a bit drastic to cast this big important curse over everyone just because she wants revenge on her mother (which again is a repeat, the never-ending curses out of revenge). She also ends up being “redeemed” or at least regretting her actions. Like, I love myself a villain with complex and interesting motives, but I’m missing a villain who is just pure evil, like Peter Pan was. It makes the stakes higher and I really like seeing the heroes actually face serious problems. While Gothel may sorta qualify, her role in Hyperion Heights is barely existent. In fact, she spent a significant amount of the time so far being trapped. And now we just have Hansel, and I can’t imagine he’s going to be a grand mastermind.

5) Just general boredom

From the plot repeat to the lack of any true threats to the heroes, it just doesn’t really keep my interest anymore. They’ve even managed to make Rumple boring, which I didn’t think was possible. Instead of being an interesting (although infuriating) character, he hardly does anything. Older season Rumple would have practically reduced the world to dust after what happened to Belle, but now he’s just sitting around asking Henry about his book. Even Regina, the main reason I watched this season to begin with, has basically lost the aspects of her personality that made her interesting. They erased all of her darkness, her amazing sarcasm and humour, and just made her a typical hero, which is the furthest thing from what anyone wanted. This season is just generally missing something to keep my attention.

When I started watching, I didn’t expect to be practically begging for this to end, even though I’d seen the fandom fade and heard it goes downhill after the midpoint. Even though season six had a lot of issues, its finale still would have been a much better ending than dragging the story out. The show has just lost the spark that got people interested in the early seasons, that made me fall in love with it a whole three weeks ago. It’s no longer a complex and lively story about defining your own fate and finding happiness in every kind of love, but a muddled mess that’s barely an unoriginal echo of what it once was.

#shut up arty #rant tag #anti ouat #ouat #i had an unhealthy amount of fun writing this #i genuinely don't care if it gets zero notes i enjoyed myself

3 notes · View notes

flipperbrain · 7 years

Note

If I understand correctly people won't watch because this Hook is not the 'our Hook'. But they wrote messages to A&E that if they separated Emma from 'our Hook' they won't watch the show. Am I right?

For some people, the ONLY things that would’ve satisfied them:1) Jen comes back and CS forever2) Our Killian helps Henry while pining and searching for Emma all season then CS reunion. Killian exits show because his only purpose is to be Emma’s husband. CS forever3) Show is cancelled retroactively. 7x01 and 7x02 are erased from the collective memory. CS forever. But then again, we never saw any bed scenes or cs children, so it’s all still a piece of shit.Apparently Jen doing the best thing for her should be applauded... between begging her to return and browbeating A&E for fucking everything up, celebrate Jen’s decision. Colin doing the best thing for him on the other hand, sucks. He’s lying, he’s unhappy, he’s miserable. He’s being forced to work on this show. I think they actually chain him up at night, but that’s another story.Unpopular opinion probably but...I’m with another nonnie ask I saw earlier, I think Colin wants to be on the show. I think he’s genuinely excited. He didn’t stay because he had to... he said he decided to stay because he wanted to. I know all the contract know-it-alls will message me, unless you know first hand what his original contract terms were (and I seriously doubt any do), just don’t. I’ve heard it. Unless you were there, you don’t know.There’s been lots of things that haven’t sat well with me over the years, but I’ve still enjoyed the journey. It’s a tv show. We all love these characters, love talking about them and looking at them, but they are fictional. I am happy CS is happy, and as always, I’m a bad fan. I laughed and laughed at Colin’s portrayal of Wish!Hook, I’ve watched 7x02 way too many times. He’s still Killian to me, just a little different. I can separate them and still be happy. If some can’t then that’s ok but shitting on the actors, writers and producers because they didn’t get exactly what they wanted is unacceptable, and I’ve seen and blocked a lot of people who can’t be civilized. I feel so bad for Colin and Jen, seeing how they were when the show started, cute and chatty, Colin especially. He had no clue how horrible some fans can be. If anything, this shitty fandom behavior probably played a role in driving Jen away. Money doesn’t always fix things, I suspect she has plenty of money. Sometimes the crap you have to endure just isn’t worth it. I quit a job when I had nothing else lined up, no way to pay for my house on the horizon, because my boss was a lunatic. Quality of life sometimes outweighs a paycheck.Anyway, enough ranting. I don’t understand the mindset but people should do whatever they want, just be respectful to those working on the show. Colin O’Donoghue is and has been my reason for watching. He’s brilliant and deserving of support for a job he loves doing imo, but that’s just me.

#ouat answers #Anonymous

27 notes · View notes

emmakillianfan · 7 years

Text

Music of the Heart Chapter 54 of ?

Previous Chapters: FF.net and AO3

Henry’s fever was at its highest on Monday after their trip to New York and his own camping trip in an unheated cabin with his father. While it was on the tip of her tongue to chastise Neal for not making him wear a hat or gloves in their little adventure, she simply informed him that Henry was not available for that last minute suit fitting that Tamara was insisting on for him. There was no further question about it as she checked on her on an hour or so later and found him sleeping with a rattle of congestion when he breathed and his face flushed from the fever.

If anything good happened from the virus he had caught, it was that Elsa and Liam elected to go stay at Anna and Kristoff’s for the duration. They had beat a hasty retreat upon finding out from Emma just as everyone was headed to bed that Henry was indeed sick. Liam had a performance after Thanksgiving that couldn’t be missed and Elsa feared for her own singing voice. So rather than quarantine themselves with hand sanitizer and masks, they slept on matching couches at her sister’s.

Killian did not seem all that upset at the development, cooking breakfast that morning sans shirt and humming along with the radio without fear of being watched. That was except for Emma who was parked on the couch with a blanket thrown over her and Mary Margaret’s organized trove of wedding suggestions in her lap. Occasionally she would throw an idea out to Killian, who mustered some enthusiasm over flowers and trinkets.

Delivering a freshly brewed cup of coffee to her, he held it aloft until she raised her head and accepted his kiss as payment for the caffeine. He pulled away after the first kiss, licked his tongue over his bottom lip, and then dove in for a second kiss before placing the steaming mug within reach.

“You do know I don’t care about any of this stuff,” she said, blowing into the too hot to drink mug. “We could just go to city hall.”

“I would go anywhere with you, love, but I don’t think we’d survive the wrath of Mary Margaret or Ruby. Mary Margaret has become the pseudo mother of the bride and Ruby’s apparently designing you quite the frock. I dare say both would be disappointed beyond reason if we were to elope.”

She flipped a page in the notebook that was innocently titled bouquets and boutonnieres, barely glancing at the rose and tulip heavy cascade of flowers. “How do you know what kind of dress Ruby’s designing for me? She’s barely shown me other than to make sure her measurements are right. She may be a hot mess, but she’s very superstitious and wouldn’t want you to see it before it’s time.”

He grinned as he returned from the kitchen with his own mug, settling in next to her and resting his left arm on the back of the sofa. The breakfast frittata he was making was in the oven and already filled the air with so many flavorful scents. “She’s had some questions about my abilities.” Her raised eyebrow made him chuckle. “Nothing too offensive, mind you. She simply asked about my hand and if a zipper was preferable to buttons.”

“And your answer?”

“That it was your dress and your comfort and desire should come before my preferences.” He grimaced at the heat of the coffee as it hit his tongue. “Though I should have told her that my thoughts on the subject included you, a strip tease, and a quite enjoyable evening to start our lives out was husband and wife.”

“She would be the only one of our friends to appreciate that.” Emma tried to sound annoyed as she blew one last stream of air at the coffee. “But just so you know, she’s not designing what I wear under my wedding dress. That will be for your eyes only. Well, your eyes and I guess the cashier who sells them to me.”

The kitchen timer and a sharp knock at the front door interrupted any further discussion of what to wear or not wear for their still nebulous wedding plans. Killian darted to the kitchen, snagging a sweater from the laundry while Emma peered out the window to see who was stopping in so early. “Speak of the devil,” she announced when the whirlwind that was Ruby draped her arms around Emma to hug her. Keeping one hand holding a large paper sack, she waved it toward Killian.

“Granny heard that Henry was sick. She sent her miracle soup to help.” The dark haired beauty laughed as Killian peeked in the bag he sat next to the fresh from the oven breakfast. “You don’t want to know what’s in it. I don’t even know. I just know there is a lot of hot sauce because she thinks it makes you sweat out a cold or something.”

“That’s very kind of you and Granny,” Killian said, “But perhaps it would be better for lunch than breakfast?”

Ruby ignored the question, shimmying out of her slim cut coat and collapsing dramatically onto the couch just next to where Emma had been huddled. She lifted one of the photos of wedding flowers and promptly ripped it. “If you go with something like that, you might as well have carnations and baby’s breath. Seriously, Emma, if you insist on leaving me alone in the spinsterhood, you can at least show some fashion sense and class at your wedding.”

Emma let out an amused sigh as she squeezed Killian’s shoulder on her way back to the couch. He’d already plated up some breakfast for Henry, adding a slice of toast and brimming glass of orange juice that he placed on a tray. He made a show of balancing it perfectly and was delivering it when Ruby made a face at another photo.

“Don’t,” Emma warned. “They aren’t even mine. This is Mary Margaret’s doing.”

“I should have known. She’s called you forward to the pastel side. Shoes ready to dye? Am I right?”

“Even Mary Margaret has better taste than that,” Emma protested, hoping that the advertisements for such things were well tucked away. “I thought you promised to be supportive. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

While nobody had mentioned Ruby staying for breakfast, she made no protests when Killian returned with a plate for her and a report that Henry woke up long enough to take a bite or two along with another round of medicine. “Try the soup later. It’s bound to work.” Her lips curled around the fork and she moaned loudly in appreciation.

Killian blushed slightly over Ruby’s reaction, but Emma was more amused. “That sounded indecent. Seriously, Ruby, it is just eggs, cheese…” She turned to Killian for help.

“Zucchini, a bit of spinach, a dash of cream, and some honey cured ham.” The fork he was holding sliced though his triangular piece and dropped a modest amount into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed, something Emma found endearing. He was the same way in so many things he was passionate about, including kissing and touching her. It was as though he wanted to savor each and every moment. The blue of his eyes popped against his dark lashes as his eyes opened suddenly. “It is quite good.”

It was Ruby’s turn to be amused, wagging her fork at him. “You two need to spice things up around here. You’re turning everyone orgasmic over breakfast.” Her ability to eat bellied the thin frame that was covered in a red and black outfit that hugged each curve with definition. Her long legs disappeared under a short black skirt that was buttery soft. A zig zag of red leather crossed in both front and back.

“We have plenty of drama, Ruby,” Emma said warningly, winking at Killian as she adjusted the blanket over her lap and enjoyed her own plate. “What are you doing up anyway? I thought that you were spending the weekend with Graham? Shouldn’t you be… recovering from doing things that I don’t want to know about and you’ll end up telling me anyway?” Emma knew her friend well, having spent more than a few nights listening to rants about failed one night stands or the time when Ruby forgot the name of a date and had Emma scouring the internet to find his identity while she hid in the restroom.

Throwing her head back dramatically, Ruby threw her legs up on the solid coffee table. “Okay so I am not just here to deliver soup and mooch breakfast. I need advice.” She lifted a single eye to open and spied Emma pleadingly. “You know I don’t do this. Not really.”

“What don’t you do exactly?” Emma asked warily after she gave Killian a silent look that said it was okay for him to stay. “Or should I ask what did you do?”

“Saturday night,” she said cryptically with an arm thrown over her eyes. “I went to the Rabbit Hole.” Emma wondered how her friend was able to sigh properly with the tight outfit. On someone else it would look like they were trying too hard, but Ruby was a beautiful sight in the leather and bold colors.

Swallowing, Emma drew in a breath and waited for the worst. “Without Graham?”

“He was working.” Ruby threw herself back to sitting on the edge of the couch, her back ramrod straight. “Okay so this whole monogamy thing. It’s got rules, right? You can’t just go around sleeping with guys you don’t know if you’re in a monogamous relationship.”

When Emma didn’t answer, her mouth full of the egg dish, Killian gave each woman an amused smile. “It’s generally frowned upon, as is sleeping with men you do know.” His smirk wasn’t returned by either, forcing him to turn the laugh that was bubbling up into a cough.

“Who exactly are we talking about?” Emma asked, prodding her friend gently. She’d been through and subject to many of Ruby’s freak outs. This one seemed no different except for Ruby’s reluctance to divulge.

“Me!”

Emma reached a hand out and gently stroked through her friend’s now tousled and tangled mane of hair. “I meant the guy. Who was the guy? What happened?” She waited while Ruby’s breath returned to normal, Emma took another bite of her breakfast and chewed thoughtfully.

“He was just a guy,” Ruby said through a dry sob where no tears fell. “I don’t even know his name.”

“And you slept with him?” Emma asked, cringing at the drama this was going to cause. Confessions, tearful questions, regrets, decisions to move on, and the list would go on and on. There would be awkward moments in the future when Graham and Ruby were in the same room.

“No,” Ruby nearly wailed. “I didn’t. He said hello. I said hello and then…”

Killian and Emma both waited for Ruby to continue, but she didn’t notice them staring expectantly. She flung herself backwards again, her ankle boots clattering against the aged wood table. Hugging a throw pillow to her tight red sweater, she moaned in a painful huff.

“Ruby, whatever you did, I’m sure that Graham can forgive you. I mean this is still very new for you. If you’re honest with him, I’m sure…” She glanced at Killian with a hopeful eyebrow raised that he might have the right words now. While she wanted to be supportive of her friend, she couldn’t imagine facing such a thing herself. She would never consider cheating on Killian and had no indication he would ever cheat on her. “I’m sure it was just sex. I mean no emotions, right?”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Ruby said, lolling her head to the right and looking pointedly toward the blonde. “I wanted to. God, did I want to sleep with him. He was hot. And from the looks of his outfit, which wasn’t bought here in Storybrooke, he was rich. And when he talked to me, he was funny, smart, and everything else you could want in a guy.”

Confused, Killian placed his mug back down and then removed the plate from his knee as if the shock of this conversation might unbalance it. “Wait? You didn’t sleep with this guy?”

“No,” she wailed, still beseechingly focused on Emma. “I freaking wanted to and was going to. You know that area in the restroom where…”

“Details aren’t necessary,” Emma interrupted, not wanting to think about the nights (yes, more than one) when she and Mary Margaret had seen her disappear into that restroom and come out some time later disheveled and sated. “So you had a plan and he wasn’t interested.”

Ruby’s chin dropped and her eyebrows raised in challenge. “When have you known a guy not to be interested in sex?”

That question made Killian laugh and Emma conceded that her friend had a point. Men were never lacking with Ruby, though their quality and worth was lacking. “Point taken. So I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong here. You said you didn’t sleep with this guy. Does he even have a name because guy is a bit generic?”

“Yeah so I don’t know,” Ruby complained, rubbing one ankle on the other. “It’s freaking insane. I talked to him. I flirted. I mean not overly so. I don’t ever do that. And he’s all ready to give me his number and suggesting some not so proper things. And do you know what happened?”

Emma said nothing, knowing exactly where this was going. It was Killian who seemed the more enthralled with Ruby’s story and her rhetorical question. “Do tell, Ruby.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I couldn’t do it. I felt sick to my stomach. I saw Graham’s face in my head and knew that I couldn’t face him if I did this.” Her hands lifted to her face where she covered her features with her palms. “I never turn down a guy I’m interested in. Never. What is wrong with me?”

Emma shared a look with Killian, scooting closer to her friend on the sofa. “You realize that you’re not a bad person for this, right? I’m proud of you, Ruby.”

She lowered her hands and stared incredulously at her friend. “Seriously? I tell you I practically cheated and you’re proud of me?” She blinked a few times. “Why?”

“Ruby, it’s okay to love him. It’s okay to be vulnerable and a little scared. The reward is worth it. I promise.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ruby said harshly. “Nobody is talking about love here. And I do vulnerable. What do you think I am when I wear my stilettos out on a rainy night? That’s vulnerable. Anything could get me? A serial killer, a mugger, a pot hole. I know vulnerable.”

“You know what I mean,” Emma responded. “I’m just saying that there is nothing wrong with wanting it to work out with Graham.”

Emitting the large sigh of resignation, Ruby grabbed for one of the files of wedding ideas. “So Granny wants to know if you want to go with just chicken as the main dish or something else and give people a choice. I was thinking seafood, but that doesn’t have to work if you don’t want it.”

Killian shook his head as if the change in topic had given him whiplash. “I like seafood,” he said almost meekly before repeating it a bit stronger. “That sounds lovely.”

***AAA***

Elsa folded the blankets and placed them at the table at the foot of the stairs. She knew her sister was planning for them to stay another night, but Elsa dreaded the idea. The townhome was spacious and comfortable, but it was no longer home. She missed her own condo too much, the sight of Liam’s shoes sticking out from under the bed, her cereal and his both in the pantry.

He came down those stairs a few minutes later with his hair even curlier in the dampness from his shower. “Your sister scares me, darling,” he said, swooping in to kiss her with his minty fresh mouth. “I made the dreadful mistake of asking after a bar of soap for my shower. She proceeded to begin naming every bath oil and wash that she has in her possession. I swear to you, darling, I could hear her voice through the door.”

Reaching out to smooth some of his damp hair, she smiled uneasily. “She didn’t walk in on you, did she? I know she wouldn’t mean to, but with Anna…She thinks before she acts.”

“Thank God for locks. No, she was waxing nostalgic over something called lavender meets juniper breeze in the hallway. I now know what not to buy her for Christmas.”

“You don’t have to buy my sister anything,” Elsa teased. Or maybe it wasn’t much of a jest because that would mean she had to buy something for Killian. And the whole thing could just snowball.

“We’ll worry with that later. So…” He darted his eyes about the living room and back toward the stairs. “Your sister is wanting to make us breakfast. But I was thinking…”

“Granny’s?” She knew he was not in the mood for his sister’s steam of consciousness. To be honest she wasn’t either. The two sisters were already scheduled to do a little cooking experimentation in anticipation of Thursday and some baby furniture shopping over the next few days. Plus they were meeting with the web team at the label about some promotion for their site.

“Sounds like a brilliant plan. I’ll grab our coats and you tell that guard of yours that we are venturing out.” He half turned to leave toward the closet when he spun back and kissed her even more solidly than before. “Sorry about that. I just needed a little motivation this morning.”

“Liam!” Anna called from upstairs. “Next time you shower you totally need to try this new all natural loofa sponge that I got. It makes your skin glow. Well not like in the dark or anything, but it makes you look good. I think it would be good for you. Not that I…”

Elsa hid her face against Liam’s broad shoulder and soft sweater. “Tell her to stop,” she said in the muffled tone against him.

“Thanks, Anna,” he called out. “Perhaps another time.” His voice was strained with hidden laughter.

“Go,” Elsa told him. “I’ll distract her and get your coat. You tell Frank or Ollie or whoever the guard is right now. Don’t look back. She can totally sense hesitation. She’ll pounce.”

***AAA***

Fresh out of the shower, Killian stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were still a bit red from lack of sleep and his skin a more pallid shade than normal. While Emma had been comforting and even distracting, his father’s words played on loop in his head. Even the purplish bruise from the nurse’s needle seemed to be reminding him of the weekend.

With his phone eerily silent on the counter, Killian concentrated on his reflection again and whether or not he should shave. Deciding that he should, he was part way done artfully trimming his stubble when the phone bleated a generic ringtone that he feared was the news from the doctor in New York. No news meant that he did not have to make any decisions, something he didn’t mind postponing for as long as possible. His brother may have placed the truth out there for him to see, but it didn’t make the idea of refusing someone a lifesaving operation any easier to face.

The phone number on the screen was not a New York area code though, but Killian answered it with a measured trepidation. The conversation was rather short and he wasn’t sure that the woman on the other end fully appreciated what he had to say. However, it needed to be said. He wasn’t interested in recording let alone traveling about on tour. His brother might dream of such things, but he did not.

Killian came back into the kitchen from their shared bedroom, pushing his phone into his pocket. “Sorry about that, love.” Emma had knocked and looked at him questioningly while he was on the phone. In his haste to finish the call, he had waved her off.

“Was it the doctor?” Emma had tied her hair up in a messy knot atop her head, her emerald green sweater and faded dark jeans covered with an apron that she usually teased Killian for owning. Two bowls were in front of her with flour and other ingredients mostly in the bowls. Directly in front of her was the stained recipe for a chocolate lava cake.

“No, it was Regina’s assistant asking for me to attend a meeting with your boss.” He eyed the mess carefully as he rounded the peninsula and smiled. “I told her I wasn’t available for it. What on earth is all this, love? Are you attempting to bake?”

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, furiously wiping off some of the flour that she transferred to him. “Don’t laugh, but I wanted to give this a shot. See I always just buy the stuff Henry has to take to school for bake sales and stuff. I never really have time to bake. I can cook. I can make anything that includes meat and vegetables and is prepared on a stove. But baking…”

Ignoring the flour that clung to her, he slid in behind her, his hand skimming down her torso and coming to rest on her hip. “I’ve been known to bake a few things. Perhaps I could be of some assistance.”

Her back was nestled against his chest and his breathing seemed to coincide with hers. “Of course you know how,” she muttered, reaching for the recipe. “I feel a little bit like a bum. Isn’t this something moms should know how to do?”

“Perhaps moms in 1950s sitcoms, love, but not actual mothers. At least not any that I know.” Peeking over her shoulder, he kissed a spot just below her ear and then again at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “You have many other fine skills and qualities.”

She grimaced, flushing possibly from his compliment but also frustration. “So…no word from your dad’s doctor?”

“No news is good news, but I don’t know what good news would be at this point. I thought we decided not to make any decisions until we know there is a decision to make.”

“Sorry. I’m just worried about you. Not even mentioning the emotional impact this is clearly going to have on you, your relationship with your father, and your relationship with your brother, there’s the physical thing. Surgery like that isn’t a joke. What if…”

“I promise, love, if the doctor’s office calls and says I am a match, you and I will make a decision together. I won’t be doing anything rash or headstrong.” His fingers dug into the flesh near her hip. “Now do we want to do this together or shall I heat up some of that soup for the lad? I’m rather anxious to see if Granny’s claims of healing properties can be trusted.”

She laughed tightly, turning her head toward him. “I checked on him earlier. He’s sound asleep again thankfully. Seems he had another of the nightmares about me drowning.” She frowned. “I thought we were past those.”

“Aye, I did too. Do you suppose our being away this weekend caused any anxiety? He seems to have them when separated from you.” The dreams had not completely stopped, but Emma knew they had lessened. Either that or he was not telling her of them as frequently. She’d hoped that he would move past them as he realized that she was not planning anything so dangerous to take her away permanently. “I would guess the fever he has doesn’t help.”

She closed her green eyes, breathing in slowly. “I didn’t ask Neal if…”

“It’s alright, love. Go look in on the lad. I’ll tidy up a bit and we’ll try again on your sponge.”

She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar use of a familiar word. “Oh you mean cake.” She grinned a little. “I watch those British baking shows sometimes.”

“You have quite a few eclectic little habits like that,” he teased, his voice deep and breath warm on her ear. “I’ve caught you watching a few of those cop shows as well.”

“Believe it or not, I considered that line of work in a previous life, Killian.” She lifted her spatula like a gun. “I am good at finding people. I thought I might make a career of it.”

“You are good at finding talent. Brilliant in fact. So any more thoughts about this whole idea of producing?” He was talking and asking about something serious, but yet his tone was light and playful. His hand skimmed along her hip and up then down her torso again.

She dropped the spatula and stepped out of his embrace to busy herself in another area of the kitchen. “I thought we were going to concentrate on your father, the wedding, and making sure your younger brother stays put. Not to mention there’s Henry’s grades, Neal’s wedding, two friends having babies, and whatever drama Ruby brings in next.” Rolling her shoulders back, she kept facing forward as she searched in the cabinet for some unseen item. “What about you? Any more thought on the school thing with Mary Margaret?”

His eyes narrowed at her obvious escape and avoidance. “I planned to talk to her at this party thing Thursday. She’s taken the lead on it.” Though she wasn’t looking at him, he frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” she answered, turning 90 degrees and walking over to the refrigerator where she pulled out the soup from Granny. “I just thought we were going to hold off on my career decisions until things were more stable. But it’s not a big deal.”

He watched her for a moment and then joined her next to the stove. “I told you that we could make this work if you…I only mean that we can go at whatever speed you like.”

“Let’s get this done for Henry, okay? We’ll talk about life altering decisions later. You decipher that recipe over there and I’ll heat this up. That’s about my speed right now.”

***AAA***

“So I was thinking that it might be a little crowded at that loft,” Granny told Elsa as Liam tried to pick something new and different from the menu. There was nothing new on it and very little that could be called exciting. Yet he still tried and usually settled for waffles. “What if we took the burden off the poor girl and hosted it here.”

“Here?” Elsa considered thoughtfully as she dragged her straw through the ice water. “I’m not sure that the diner is the family feel Mary Margaret was really reaching for on this.”

The older woman huffed at being shot down, yanking the menu out of Liam’s hands. “You do realize that we are planning to fit me, Marco, August and his date, Ruby, Graham, You and Liam, Emma, Killian, Henry, Anna and her husband, David, Mary Margaret, Ashley, Sean, and whichever other strays end up at this thing, all around a table with four chairs. I’m just saying there has to be a better place.”

Liam, who had said nothing, reached out to retrieve the menu only to have her hold it out of reach. “I wasn’t done with that, Granny.” He chuckled playfully and reached again. She slapped his hand with the laminated menu.

“You’re just going to order the waffles,” she sniffed. “Just think about what I said, Elsa. Nothing is worse than eating turkey in shifts because there is no room.”

Elsa dropped her head to her hand and rubbed at her temple. “She has a point.”

“Aye, but she’s also a tad violent with that menu. And I wasn’t planning on getting waffles. I was considering that wester omelet thing until she snatched it away from me.” He rubbed at his hand as though he still felt the sting. Elsa looked at him incredulously. “Very well. I was planning to get the waffle, but she didn’t know that for sure.”

“Mary Margaret really wants to host this party for Thanksgiving. It would break her heart if we have it at the diner instead.”

“Perhaps we should cut the guest list? Henry’s feeling poorly so he may be out, which would mean Emma and even Killian…”

“You can’t go around disinviting people. Besides, it’s Monday. Henry will be fine by Thursday. What if we had it at the condo? We have that giant great room area, open concept and all that.”

Liam swallowed the coffee in front of him and grimaced. “We don’t even have a dining table. Plus the place has been shut up since this whole thing with my brother. Anna’s?”

“My sister is a hormonal mess right now. She was following me around this morning with a vacuum. Her hosting Thanksgiving would probably send her over the edge. Plus there is no parking there.” She pursed her lips and stared off toward the menu. “What about Emma and Killian’s? They’ve got a larger table and we could do something outside with heaters and stuff. It would work, wouldn’t it?”

“We do always seem to congregate there. I don’t see a problem.” He reached for the raw sugar packet, shaking it for good measure. “But if you suggest I ask my brother, you’re likely to be disappointed. I think we’ve both run out of favors owed in that case.”

Remaining thoughtful, Elsa again stirred through the water. “No, you’re right there. Besides we need to make it seem like it’s Mary Margaret’s idea. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” There wasn’t much of an explanation needed, as the woman who was normally even keeled and protective was overboard with every emotion.

“Good idea, I suppose,” Liam lamented as his waffle, sans whipped cream, was dropped off in front of him and Elsa’s healthier dish in front of her. “We are quite different, you and I?”

Spearing a piece of melon with her fork, she hummed her response wondering what he was getting at. “That’s a bad thing?”

“No, I only meant that sometimes it seems strange that the lovely proprietress here would see us as such a good match. I am not complaining, as I’m more than grateful. I just wonder what it is she saw.”

Elsa chewed slowly, giving herself time to digest the words and consider her own. Finally, she took a sip of her water and swallowed that too. “Well, we are both the oldest children in our families. We both have a love of music and writing. Both of us are stubborn and loyal. We can both be fiercely determined and not all that easy to please.”

“I feel that way too,” he said softly, looking toward the counter where it was business as usual in the diner. As it was Monday most people were at work, but there were a few extras given the holiday. The usual décor of forest wall paper and red vinyl with formica was enhanced with autumn leaves and honeycombed turkey decorations. Liam had made fun of the ornamentation when they first arrived, but he was beginning to like its simplicity. “What brought this on, darling? Are you creating some pro con list that I am unaware of right now?”

“No, it’s more about just considering what I’m thankful for this year. I suppose it’s the idea of Thanksgiving, but I’m trying to not be so focused on the negative. My career’s going quite well. My sister is happy and in love. I’m about to be an aunt. I’ve got friends who support and love me. And I have a loving and wonderful boyfriend.” She smiled, spearing another piece of fruit. “If I just focus on those things, I have to admit I’m happy.”

“I like the sound of that. You being happy.” He reached across the table to clasp her left hand. “And one of these days we’ll be back at our lovely condo and things will be back to normal.”

Her icy eyes watched their entwined fingers for a moment. “So what if we move back now? Your brother is still out there, but if we’re careful…”

“Elsa, he tried to run you off the road. He may have broken into Killian’s garage. It’s just not safe…”

“Those things happened since we left. I’m tired of living our lives based on where he’s going to strike next. I want to go home, Liam. I want to have a home again and not be a burden or a guest. I want spend rainy or snowy days with you on the couch, curled up in pajamas while I read a book and you strum your guitar looking for just the right way to express yourself. I want to raid the refrigerator at 2 a.m. and only worry that you’re going to catch me. Only it won’t be you catching me because you’ll join me and we’ll snack on good things until we fall asleep without even bothering to clean the kitchen. I want us to make love in our bed and not have to worry about your brother or my sister hearing. We have a guard. Robin’s already made some improvements. We’ll be careful and vigilant. Let’s go home.”

***AAA***

To Elsa’s relief Mary Margaret was not at all upset in the change in plans. She even volunteered to call Emma herself, saying she didn’t want to impose on her without knowing for sure with her own ears.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked Mary Margaret with the phone tucked against her ear. “I feel horrible that he might have passed his germs on to you.”

“I teach for a living. Past the first year I built up an immunity that you wouldn’t believe. Trust me. You could drop me in a room with patients of a bubonic plague and I’d be healthy. It’s not a big deal.”

“But David isn’t immune and you’re pregnant. I feel awful.” Henry was on the mend and even his pediatrician’s office had seemed rather blasé about the whole thing earlier.

“Trust me, it’s fine. Now tell me what’s going on. You sounded stressed when I called earlier.” Leave it to Mary Margaret to already be concerned about someone other than herself. Her voice lost that harsh teacher edge in these moments and became what Emma had always imagined her own mother would sound like.

“Just trying to take care of Henry, deal with this whole thing with Killian’s father, learn to bake, and somehow convince my boss that my fiancé is not interested in becoming the next big thing in music. By the way that is in random order. Plus someone keeps dropping off wedding planning stuff over here. Do I really have to pick what kind of runner I want to walk down the aisle on? How is that even a choice?”

If Mary Margaret was offended at her friend’s overwhelmed rant, she didn’t show it. “Yeah, you’re a little busy. So I guess it won’t help if I say I have one more thing to ask you to do.”

Emma flopped back on the bed, as she had closed herself off in hers and Killian’s bedroom to have the conversation. She had seen the look in his eyes that said he was concerned about her and heard his voice sounding worried he had done something wrong. While he hadn’t, she was teetering on the edge of a meltdown at that moment. It felt selfish to her to think of him waiting on life or death news about his father and she was the one breaking down. “If you want me to kill someone, I’ll try to work it into my schedule. If you want me to consider another wedding plan you saw online and just have to see in person, count me out.”

“You can’t see me right now, but I have my fingers in the Girl Scout salute. Seriously, I won’t even mention the wedding if that takes something off your shoulders. Actually it’s about Thanksgiving.”

“Oh right,” Emma said, staring at the ceiling above. She knew her friend was going for that traditional New England holiday feel. Next year their meal might include a few others, including the new babies who would be there by then. “How set were you on having lava cake? Because I was thinking that your pumpkin pie is dessert enough. Plus you know Granny will bring that stuff she makes. And since you invited Regina, Robin, and Roland you’re bound to get apple tarts from Regina.”

Mary Margaret’s laugh sounded relaxed and easy. “No big deal, Emma. I am sure whatever you want to make will be fine. See. I am not the control freak everyone assumes I am.” She paused when Emma didn’t confirm her assessment. “No, really. I’m not. But we do have a location issue. Granny and Elsa called. Our guest list is kind of getting out of hand.”

“So you want me to disinvite people,” Emma said knowingly. “I get it. Okay there are a few easy cuts.”

“No, I’m not asking that. See, Elsa and Granny were thinking the loft might be too small for everyone to be comfortable. And except for the diner, you’re the one with the biggest place. We could even get some of those heater things and place them around. What do you think?”

Within 20 minutes they had a plan that she promised to run by Killian. Then they could go about notifying everyone of the venue change. Emma was already feeling relieved that Mary Margaret’s favor seemed to be manageable.

“So you’re sure you’re okay with everything?” the brunette asked again. “Because if you need to talk…”

“I’m fine,” Emma assured her. “I’m just feeling a lot of things at the moment. I thought I was okay with everything earlier but now…”

“You’re worried about Killian, aren’t you? I would be too if it was David. That’s kind of a jerk move to abandon your son and then show up years later wanting a liver.” Mary Margaret clicked her tongue on the top of her mouth. “You do realize that most people would have told him to go to hell.”

“Yeah, most people,” Emma said ruefully. She rolled to her right and came face to face with a photo of her and Killian from their summer vacation. Henry had taken it, the sun shimmering her in blonde hair perfectly and pinkness of her skin and Killian’s well on display. The ginger coloring of Killian’s stubble was on full display with the brightness of the light. “I’m worried about him, Mary Margaret. What if…”

“Emma, it’s okay to worry. But maybe if you talked to him about this. It is him we’re talking about.”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I don’t want him to know how worried I am. It’s his decision not mine and I don’t want him to think I’m interfering.” She left out the guilt that she was feeling over his reluctant acceptance of things in her career just because he had wanted her to be happy. And the fact that Regina was apparently trying to reach him did not help.

“It’s not good to let things boil inside you. Just talk to him, Emma. You’ll feel better.”

So that is what she meant to do. She pulled herself up off the bed after disconnecting the call and ran her hand through her hair that now was falling out of the knot atop her head. She walked slowly into the great room, waiting to see if he would notice her. He did. But it was not as she had pictured the moment just seconds before. He was on the phone too, the three lines between his eyebrows bunching together dramatically. When he disconnected, he shrugged at her hopelessly.

“I’m a match.”

#ouat fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #cs ff #cs au #frozen jewel

19 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

Text

Fic: A Helping Hand From Beyond (12/16)

Summary: “You know, sometimes the deceased stay with us, waiting until they’re sure we’ve moved on before they can move on themselves. Giving us a helping hand from beyond, as it were.”

When Gloria Rush and Rum Gold meet one cold October morning, they quickly come to the realisation that they share a common goal – to help those they left behind in life to move on and find happiness again. Using what little means available to them, the two lost souls team up to ensure their widows’ future, and find their own peace.

Rumbelle, Rushbelle, Gloria/Nick, and an epic Gold&Gloria bromance.

=====

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

=====

Twelve

In Good Time

Nicholas and Belle take another step closer.

Belle is unaccountably nervous as she moves around her small kitchen preparing dinner. Although neither of them are officially framing this as a romantic date, rather than just an evening with a friend, there is something undeniably more intimate about moving their conversations from a neutral setting to her own home. If nothing happens and they continue on as friends for a while longer, then so be it, but at least she’s made this first step and shown him subtly that she’s interested in something more. She gives a little smile as she watches the pots bubbling on the stove. It’s been so long since she’s been in the dating game that she’s almost forgotten how it works, but she knows that food is always good. She’s keeping it simple, pasta in a creamy sauce and salad; she’s not the world’s best cook and doesn’t want to accidentally poison the man she’s grown to care for so much. From what she’s heard of Nicholas’s life, though, he’s worse in the kitchen than she is and seems to subsist solely off coffee and nicotine.

She looks down at her hands, still finding it a little strange for them to be bare, but the thought causes her no guilt or fear. Perhaps in the future she will remove the rings from the chain around her neck and put them safely away, but she’s not quite ready for that yet. In a way, it’s been cathartic, talking about her loss with Nicholas and learning of his own. Somehow, knowing that he’s been through much the same experience as she has makes it easier to envisage moving on and finding lasting love and happiness with him. It’s only in the last week that their respective states of widowhood have come out. Nicholas had asked her why she’d come to California from Maine, and she felt that he deserved the truth rather than a vague misdirection - not a lie, but not the full truth. It was about the same moment that she had realised he wore a wedding ring, and in his turn he had told her about Gloria.

Belle thinks that maybe people who’ve had their hearts broken in this way, in this most pure and painful of ways in which blame cannot be cast on either side, gravitate towards each other. Perhaps they both give off the same air of melancholia.

She turns the heat down under the pasta and leaves it to cook, going into the living room and looking around critically. The place is clean and fresh, and she looks at the photographs dotted around, biting her bottom lip and wondering if perhaps she should move the ones of Rum, before shaking her head. He was a part of her life, one of the biggest parts, and he still is. Nicholas knows that, and she isn’t going to start attempting to deny Rum’s existence because she’s worried about what a man who might not even think of her in a romantic light might think. She highly doubts he’s packed away all his pictures of Gloria.

The photographs stay, and almost on cue, the doorbell rings. Belle smooths down the front of her skirt, checks her hair in the fuzzy reflection of the TV, and goes to answer.

Nicholas gives her a slightly shy smile, holding up a bottle of white wine.

“I thought I ought to contribute something since I’m getting a free meal.”

Belle takes the bottle and steps back to welcome him into the apartment. She’s never really had much of a head for wine, but she’s pretty certain that this is a good one, and she goes back into the kitchen to pour. When she returns with two glasses, Nicholas is still standing in the entry to the apartment, looking around her domain.

“You can sit down, you know,” she says, handing him a glass and chinking her own against it in a toast to anything. “Make yourself at home.”

“You have so many books,” Nicholas says, gazing around at all her bookshelves.

“Yeah. I couldn’t really bring myself to part with any of them when I left Maine, so I had them all shipped here.”

“Your apartment’s like a library in microcosm,” he continues. “It’s beautiful.”

Belle isn’t sure that anyone has ever described her book collection as beautiful before. Extensive, yes. Scary, yes. Ridiculous, yes. Rum had said it suited her, and he had willingly helped her add to it and created her a library of her own within the pink house, but she can’t remember him ever describing it specifically as beautiful.

“Thank you. I do my best. Well, I don’t at all, actually. I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to buying books and I don’t even try to curb my enthusiasm.”

“You shouldn’t.” Nicholas takes a sip of the wine, savouring it for a moment before he speaks again. “Your enthusiasm is wonderfully refreshing in all aspects. You don’t tend to do anything by halves, do you?”

Belle shakes her head with a laugh. “Never. My parents were always equal parts exasperated and overjoyed by my whole-hearted dedication to anything I put my mind to. I think they were pretty relieved when my ultimate passion turned out to be books. At least it was quieter than if I’d decided to play the drums.”

Nicholas gives a huff of soft laughter and a smile creeps over his face. He doesn’t smile often, Belle’s noticed, but he smiles more often with her, and something inside her preens a little bit at that fact.

Presently the kitchen timer goes off and Belle goes to see to dinner. When she returns, a steaming bowl of pasta in her hands, she sees Nicholas studying the picture of Rum, Neal, and Baby Henry. She’s mentioned Neal, of course, but only in passing. She bites her lip, puts the dish down on the table, and steels herself.

“Dinner’s ready,” she says, and Nicholas comes over, settling himself with his wine as Belle serves. He tops up her glass, and polite small talk is exchanged as they begin to eat.

“That’s my stepson Neal,” Belle says, deciding to bring up the topic before it gets under her skin. “And my grandson Henry. Well. Step-grandson technically, but I’ve always been his nana.” There’s a screamingly awkward pause. “Yeah. I’m a grandmother.”

Nicholas’s expression is amused. “Well, I think I can safely say that you’re the most unconventional grandmother I’ve ever met. I’m sure not many children can say that their grandmothers are astrophysicists.”

Belle laughs. “I’m hardly an astrophysicist. I’m a librarian with a fascination for space.”

“I think that makes you an astrophysicist. Definitely an honorary one at least.” They continue to eat in silence for a while, but the awkwardness has gone. Belle’s a grandmother and Nicholas doesn’t seem in the least bit phased by it. “Do you see them often?”

She shakes her head. “Not since I moved, but I speak to them a lot. We’re close and we love each other as family, but we live very different lives. I’m not all that much older than Neal; we don’t really have a traditional mother-son relationship. We’re friends first and foremost. I’m going to see them for Thanksgiving weekend, which will be nice. But I don’t miss them, not in that sense. They have their lives and I have mine. What about you?” she asked. “I feel like I’ve just been talking about myself.”

“That’s all right. I like hearing about you, and it means I get to enjoy the food whilst you’re talking.”

It’s nice to see Nicholas a little bit less tightly-wound than he usually is, a little bit more teasing. The fact he’s lighter now makes Belle think that perhaps something more can come of this.

“All the same,” she continues, “I would like to know more about your family. Where are you going for Thanksgiving?”

Nicholas just shrugs and shakes his head. “There’s not really much to tell. I don’t really have any family. Well, there’s the extended web of cousins and step-cousins and twenty-first cousins half-removed and all that nonsense, but they’re all still back in Glasgow. We were never particularly close to start with and I haven’t seen them in years. To be honest I think we moved to California to get away from family.”

Belle bites her bottom lip, wondering what to say. She thinks about how lonely it must be to spend Thanksgiving alone at a time when family were supposed to come together. She couldn’t fathom spending the weekend apart from Neal, Emma and Henry.

“So you’ll be alone on Thanksgiving?”

Nicholas gives another non-committal shrug. “We never really celebrated Thanksgiving properly,” he says. “We never celebrated it back in Oxford, obviously, and we never really caught on to the thing when we moved out here. It’s just a long weekend to me, it doesn’t hold any kind of significance. I usually just spend it grading papers and watching old Westerns.” He smiles, and Belle has to smile too, because there’s no sign of regret or sadness in his face as he discusses the forthcoming holiday, and there’s no point in feeling sorry for him if he’s not feeling sorry about it himself. By mutual consent they move the conversation away from family and onto safer ground: books, music, films. Belle’s surprised and delighted to find that she and Nicholas share several of the same eclectic favourites, and they manage to rant about the inaccurate physics of some science-fiction movies for almost half an hour, stopping only when Belle remembers that she made chocolate mousse for dessert and she’d hate for it to go to waste because they were too busy talking about anti-gravity boots to eat it. As the mousse is eaten, though, Belle can feel that the evening is coming to a natural conclusion, and she’s pleased with how it’s gone. Neither of them have been scared off, and her cooking went off without a hitch. They finish the wine, exchanging pleasantries and talking about nothing of much importance. Whilst Belle wouldn’t go so far as to say that she doesn’t want the evening to end, she would say that she would very much like to see it repeated.

Eventually, Nicholas gets up to leave, and Belle walks him to the door.

“Thank you for coming,” she says.

“My pleasure.”

“And thank you for the wine.”

Nicholas gives a soft laugh. “That was also my pleasure. I know nothing about wine, so I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I enjoy wine in general, I don’t think that you could have gone wrong with a bottle.” She grins, and in that moment, with the front door half-open and Nicholas halfway out of it, she finds herself leaning in towards him, unable to take her eyes off his face, watching his tongue dart out nervously to wet his lips. Could this be it? Does he want to take the next step just as much as she does. She thinks he does, there’s a glimmer of desire in his eyes, but when they’re just a few inches apart, he pulls back.

“I, erm, I should probably go,” he mutters, sounding a little awkward but more annoyed with himself than with her for initiating the almost-kiss.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” Belle suggests tentatively, and Nicholas nods firmly.

“Yes. Thank you for tonight. I had a great evening.” He means it, he’s not just being polite, and Belle wonders what it was that made him pull back. Maybe he’s just not ready to move on yet, like she had not been ready when the idea of entering a relationship with him first presented itself in her mind those few weeks ago.

“We should do it again,” she says. A firm statement, no vague ‘sometime’ added in there. Nicholas nods. “Definitely. You should come over to mine. I’m no great chef but I’ve been told I cook a decent steak.”

Belle smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Nicholas just nods, and moves down the corridor towards the stairwell with a wave.

Re-entering her apartment, Belle looks at the stacked plates in the sink and wraps her arms around herself, feeling truly happy for the first time in a very long time.

#rushbelle fic #rushbelle #anyelle #Fic: Helping Hand

10 notes · View notes

klynn-stormz · 4 years

Text

Legally Swan

Chapter 5

Look at me posting two weeks in a row! And I even have a bunch of chapter 6 written, I am on a roll! Anyway, here is the next chapter of Legally Swan, let me know what you think :)

AO3: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

She wasn’t sure where she was running too until she was inside the salon. It was roughly 10 minutes from campus, a smaller stand-alone building on the street, the outside showed age, but in a cozy homey way. It had a red brick front, cracked and washed from time, a cursive open sign with a smiley face hung on the inside of the door. Walking inside, the smell of nail polish, hair color, and rubbing alcohol immediately calmed her. The salon seemed frozen in time. Stuck in the unfortunate year of 1976, blue and white checkered tiles lay across the walls, the floor the same retro blue as the tile with a swirly design that, if stared at for too long, could make one throw up or faint. The ceiling was normal, save for the harsh florescent lights and one large globe light (it was a few shiny mirrors away from a disco ball). Emma loved all of it. No one came over to greet her, so she took it upon herself to find an available technician and sit down, hands out.

“A manicure please.” She sniffed, her heart was still hurting from the encounter with Neal and his fiancé.

“Rough day?” The technician quietly asked. Her black hair was cut into a cute pixie cut that complemented her jaw line. She had pale skin, nearly milk white, and rosy lips. Emma noticed how kind her chocolate brown eyes seemed as she began to soak Emma’s nails.

“You have no idea.” Emma sighed.

“Manicures are for getting all the bad out and keeping the good in. If you want to rant to me you can, it’ll make you feel better.” Her smile was shy and soft, warming Emma, who was in desperate need for a confidant and friend.

“Well get ready for an insanely stupid story. I’ll tell you as long as you promise to give me an honest answer on how stupid I am.” After the technician nodded, Emma began her story.

---

After about an hour or so, with her nails looking fantastic, Emma was finished speaking, now waiting for the technician to say something. The woman studied Emma’s nails, finishing up the hand massage and making sure there were no flaws.

“So, in conclusion, you followed your ex, who broke up with you because he thought you were to pretty and dumb to be with him, to Harvard. You wanted to prove to him you are pretty AND smart, and maybe he would take you back. But, instead, you find that you love the classes, met a super-hot smart British, lawyer in training, found your ex was a tool who cheated on you because you didn’t count, and has a bitchy fiance who looks like a goddess, dresses like she’s at a funeral, and has a vendetta against you for being here.”

Emma blinked. That was the perfect summary of everything that had happened.

“Um, yeah pretty much. Sound horrible hearing it from someone else.” She felt another pang of humiliation.

“Not horrible.” The woman smiled kindly, “You wanted to feel seen and loved.”

“How did you know that?” Emma asked, stunned. What was it with the random strangers she met here reading her so easily?

“I know a little bit about that. Had someone I thought I loved, he decided he didn’t love me and kicked me out. That wasn’t the worst part though! I could handle him making me leave, but he kept my dog.” She turned her sad gaze to a picture frame on the counter, it was a picture of a little golden retriever puppy.

“That’s horrible.” Emma glanced down at Henry, who was curled up in her purse, content to watch the goings on and his person. “I can’t imagine what I would do without Henry.”

The technician smiled softly, wistfully and agreed. “It’s been nine months and it still hurts to think about my poor pup with him. I hope he’s being treated right.”

“I’m so sorry, that is the worst. I’m Emma, by the way.” Emma introduced herself. Realizing she still didn’t know this woman’s name.

“It’s nice to meet you Emma, I’m Mary Margaret.”

---

They talked for a while, Mary Margaret decided to give him a full spa treatment—besides the manicure she was getting a facial and pedicure—so they could talk more. Emma felt like she had found a close friend in Mary Margaret, someone she could confide in and laugh with. It was in the middle of them talking about Emma’s encounter with Killian that a UPS delivery man walked in the door. The change in Mary Margaret was immediate. She stiffened and tried to hide behind her hair, seemingly forgetting her pixie cut. She must have had long hair at one point, and Emma made a note to ask her that story later. When she realized that hiding wasn’t working, she turned her back to face him and made herself busy sorting through her workstation, much to Emma’s bemusement.

In the meantime, she studied Mary Margaret’s reaction, she was definitely trying to hide from the delivery man. The man was glancing around the salon as he waited for signatures. When he saw Mary Margaret, he straitened up and a hopeful look came into his eyes. With a quick look at the receptionist, who was lagging on the signature, too busy on her phone to do much, he walked towards them. Emma was fascinated by the scene unfolding in front of her, she felt like she was watching a movie, on the edge of her seat to see what happened next.

“Mary Margaret!” The man greeted happily. “It’s been a long time, over a year, right?”

“David.” Mary Margaret greeted quietly, nervously moving to tuck her hair behind her ear, and blushing when she realized it was too short to do so. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Picking up extra shifts at the animal shelter still, and delivering packages in the meantime. How are you? Your hair is shorter than last time I saw you.” He paused, slight worry crossing his face. “Not that it doesn’t look good, I mean really you look amazing, not that you don’t always look amazing. I mean to say it’s a good look on you, not there there’s a look that’s bad on you, and I see that you’re still doing nails and hair. Oh, that’s not a bad think though! You were always fantastic at it, I just thought I’d see how you’re doing and say that it’s really good to see you, and now that I know you’re here maybe we could catch up sometime.” Emma could see all the nerves fluttering around him as he stumbled over his words.

“That would be um, yeah maybe sometime soon.” Mary Margaret blushed again and looked at her work station. The receptionist called for David, finally having signed for the packages, and he somewhat reluctantly said his goodbyes and left.

Emma and Mary Margaret were silent for a moment. Then Emma broke it. “Soooo, what’s the story there?”

“No story!” Mary Margaret blurted out. “I mean I’ve known David since I was in eighth grade and we were friends for a little bit. Why? Did it look like there was a story?”

Emma chuckled at the nerves Mary Margaret was showing. “It definitely looks like there’s a story. He totally likes you, and you obviously like him. What’s holding you back?”

“It’s a really long story.” Mary Margaret started to brush it off, until she saw Emma’s skeptical expression and raised eyebrow. “Fine, we still have ten minutes left on your facial.”

It turned out to be a great story. Mary Margaret had met David when she was in eighth grade, right after he had moved to the area, and they had taken to each other quickly; though not before Mary Margaret had punched him in the face for making fun of her. They had started dating in tenth grade, when they both finally admitted how in love they were with the other. Unfortunately, David had an overbearing father that loved to control all aspects of his life, so, their senior year, he had forced David to breakup with Mary Margaret to date someone from a respectable background. David and Kathryn had dated for a few years, then gotten engaged. Mary Margaret had been devastated, naively thinking that David would jump ship at 18 to go back to her. When she heard the news, she had cried, gotten drunk and ended up sleeping with a good friend of David’s. She still couldn’t look Victor in the eyes after that.

David and Kathryn had been married for about five years before the gossip mill started turning about them not having kids and never being in public together. However, it wasn’t until their seventh year of marriage (nine years of being together), that they officially separated and divorced. Mary Margaret had always held out hope that true love, as she put it, would prevail. But it never did. Now whenever they saw each other there was this stilted awkward conversation, both desperately in love with the other yet so afraid to say it. The latter was an observation on Emma’s part, Mary Margaret convinced that David had no feelings for her anymore. She had met Lance three years before, not long after accepting that nothing would ever happen with David, and tried to move on with her life. When she saw David in town, she did everything she could to hide from him, hence him not having seen her for a year. Turned out that Mary Margaret was very stealthy.

Lance was everything she thought she deserved, and that wasn’t a good thing. Mary Margaret had grown up with a harsh step mother that belittled her and tried to control her. After the heartbreak that was David, a lot of her hold out confidence had vanished, she had found Lance, a man that played on her insecurities, verbally abused her on a daily basis, isolated her from friends and family, and when he got bored, threw her out of their house. So, there she was, without love, without family, without many friends, and without her precious dog.

Emma listened to all of this (the story well over 10 minutes by the end) with an abject sorrow and fascination. If she was being honest with herself (something that only seemed to happened when it wasn’t about herself) she found it much like the soap operas she would watch with her mother. So many interconnecting stories, all very dramatic, but in this case, no less real. She felt empathy for Mary Margaret, and felt a kindred bond. Both of them had gone through a lot, and now were trying to make themselves better. When Mary Margaret mentioned that she wished Lance would take her back, if only so she wouldn’t be so lonely at times, Emma spoke up.

“Don’t sell yourself short Mary Margaret, you deserve more than that kind of life. You deserve happiness with someone who loves you for you.” She wasn’t sure if that helped as Mary Margaret immediately teared up.

“Thank you, and don’t forget Emma.” She paused to compose herself. “You deserve the same. There’s always hope for a better future.”

---

Emma was thinking about that later that week. It was Friday night and she had gone through all of her classes with nerves and piles of homework to show for it. Her desk was currently piled high with her textbooks and books borrowed from the school library to study more. ‘You deserve the same’, Mary Margaret’s voice echoed as she reflected on her week. She knew deep down that she was right, and maybe that meant letting Neal go, but she still had to try right? She owed it to herself to keep going and to keep trying to be the best she could be.

Her phone rang on her nightstand. The cell itself was a standard phone, but the case was something else. Ana had given her the case for her birthday, saying Emma’s phone needed more personality. It was pink, fuzzy and sparkly. Honestly, Emma wasn’t quite sure where Ana had gotten it, but it must have cost a lot, but it made her smile when she saw it. The name on the screen made her smile even more, it was Rapunzel.

“Hey! I’ve missed you guys this week!” Emma said after she answered.

“Emma!!!” She heard at least three different voices screaming her name.

“Guess where we are?” Ana cried; her excitement almost visible through face-time. Emma couldn’t tell where they were, besides it being a clothing store.

“Where? Shopping?”

“I’m getting MARRIED!” Rapunzel screeched, coming into view on the phone in a white gown. She was jumping up and down so much that she ended up falling off the pedestal with a loud thump.

“What?” Emma asked, surprised. “To whom?”

“Oh my gosh, his name is Eugene and he is the most adorable guy ever. Emma you will love him!” Rapunzel was getting up off the floor, with some difficulty due to the tight mermaid style dress. “I met him like a month ago and he was this ‘bad boy’ going by Flynn, but he is the biggest sweetheart!”

“Wow, that’s crazy.” Emma wasn’t sure what to say, she didn’t even know who this guy was and Rapunzel had only known him for a little bit. Worry for her friend temporarily replaced her own issues.

“Don’t worry.” Ana whispered into the phone after Rapunzel went to try on a new dress. “I totally had one of my friends to a background check on him, Kristoff knows this guy who knows a cop. He came up clean, Eugene did that is. Kristoff did too, but well this isn’t about him. And I put him through my tests. You know the ones where I make R like an hour late to a date or call with and emergency to see how he would react. He passed! He even let R and I drag him shopping, he sat in the mall for like 3 hours for her. I had to have a talk with R because there was no way I was going to let her marry a man she just met, not after my Hans debacle, and of course you remember me telling you about my sister and how mad she was! Yikes. But I promise he’s good! Besides, if he’s not we know how to get rid of him and you can be my lawyer! Won’t that be fun?” By the end of Ana’s monologue Emma was laughing. She had missed her friends fiercely and hearing them made everything better.

She talked to both of them for a while longer, helping critique the wedding dressed and catching up on their lives. When she hung up, she laid on her bed a stared at the ceiling. Not for the first time, loneliness swelled in her heart. She was thousands of miles away from her mother, from her friends, from her life. She tried not to cry while thinking about her family, she had had to fight for it, but somehow, she got one. What was she doing so far away from it? Then she thought about the past week and how much she was enjoying her classes, sure she met a few bumps in the road, but what was that compared to doing something she knew in her soul would be a part of her life. While trying to dispel the melancholy she heard a soft knock came on her door.

Emma curiously moved to the door and opened it. On the other side stood a young woman in muted colors. Her hair was blonde and pin straight, she had kind blue eyes that gave away the nerves she was feeling, she wore a gray Harvard sweatshirt and simple black leggings. Shifting her hips, she opened and closed her mouth a few times before going for it.

“Hi, are you um, are you Emma Swan?” She asked shyly, her eyes moved to a point out of Emma’s vision, before returning to hers.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Emma responded.

“Hi, yeah, I’m um Ashley.”

“Hi.” Emma was confused as to why she was at her door. She had met a few of the girls in the dorm but they were all busy with classes, so there wasn’t much of a chance to socialize with them.

“So, with it being the new semester and all, a few of us wanted to get together and have a party. You know, one more before the year gets crazy.” She laughed, but it was a high pitch nervous laughter that set Emma on edge, especially when her eyes once again moved to a point out of Emma’s field of vision.

“A party? That sounds fun.” Emma said slowly, wondering what was going on.

“Yeah, it’s going to be very fun. And well I wanted to invite you. I know it’s your first year and I wanted to make you feel welcome.” Ashley stumbled over her words a bit, her eyes darting between Emma and the unknown point. “It’s going to be tomorrow and well, here’s the address.” She shoved a piece of paper into Emma’s hand.

“Um, yeah that sounds fun. I’ll definitely be there.” She was still wary about the whole thing, but a party might help her get a little bit of the homesickness gone.

“Oh!” Ashely paused and gulped. “I almost forgot one thing.”

“Yeah?” Emma’s lie detector was flashing red in her mind.

“It’s a costume party!” Ashley tried for excitement but her voice squeaked out, breaking. “You know, something to really help everyone let loose before the whole semester.”

“A costume party?” Emma echoed.

“Yup, so have fun with a costume, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Ashley practically ran away as soon as the sentence finished.

Emma took a moment to take in what just happened. She leaned casually on her door frame and moved her head minutely to see what Ashley had been glancing at, or in this case, who. Tamara stood at the end of the hall, smirking towards Emma, a trembling Ashely next to her. Emma pretended to look at the address on the slip of paper while her mind raced. Then all at once everything calmed and a grim determination settled in her. She wasn’t going to be put off by this, she was going to show them she didn’t care what they thought of her

#cs fic #captian swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #legally blonde au #legally swan

13 notes · View notes

an-idiot-but-a-bit-more-refined · 7 years

Conversation

I was laying in bed thinking of something and this made me laugh for like a split second, then I got mad and then I started crying a little because, I imagined that I was a lecturer and I had to teach a group of Baby Swen about why their new fandom home was the way it was.

Me: Hello Babies, Mommy's back!

Student in the back: Sweet! Evil Queen references.. Umm, professor, I have a question.

Me: Yes?

Student: Why are our fandom grandmothers, mothers and aunts against Eddie and Adam writing Swan Queen?

Me, sighing gently: Darling, we're not against them writing it, but we have our reservations on the way they ARE writing it and most likely would attempt to write it.

Student in the back seems confused. Pauses slightly before nodding. I write down a topic that blankets the class discussion. "Swan Queen". BABY SWENS WHISPER AND SNICKER WITH EXCITEMENT, but I sigh once again. Someone notices

Student: Professor?

Me: Yes?

Student: What's the matter?

Me, slightly conflicted to do said discussion, but I feel it is needed.

Me: The issue the fandom is facing my dear younglings has to do with an ever running war on Tropes, Tokenism, Sexism and just all around 'fandom fuckery' as we've coined it. Some of you- rather, most of you may be familiar with how savagely Swen are dogged for wanting something that represents this current day and age. Be it a fairy tale that's never been told, or simple recognition in a way that does not make us feel as though we've been given a half-assed story that's tossed after it's done what writers and show runners believe it's supposed to...no-no, Your home- THIS home is a home that has to fight for the equality so that the younger generation may reap the benefits of the fight. Now, this may sound tragic- or seem catty, but I assure you, Swen are not known to be such. We like to leave that to...what was that other group's name, again?

Student with all the smart ass comments whom I adore: Crap tainted Swan!

Me: Yes, them.

I begin to write down a few categories and immediately hands go up.

Student: Professor, what exactly do you mean when you say- they will fuck it up?

Me: Precisely what I wrote. The Swan Queen fandom is not fond of being lied to, deceived or played for fools my young one. We know as well as anyone that 'pushing' is a thing for two overly hetero-normative men who run to Captain Swan with open arms and away from Swan Queen with eyes shut and ears deafened, will somehow manage to mess up a perfectly good story to tell.

Student somewhere in the corner: And when you say they'll make it more difficult- what does that mean?

Me: It means that Our ladies are difficult apart- NOT together and yet the writers seem to bring that as some valid way to deter the pairing. They believe by forcing these characters to appear as though they'd be difficult together would make it hard for them to have a lasting relationship. Trying to deter someone by creating this aura that they simply can't be around one another long enough before they become snarky and catty for all the wrong reasons is absolute bull. If anything- we have proof of countless times they have preferred to be with one another simply because it was obvious of the safety they felt. The care and concern they felt.

Student: Oh, so you mean like- Regina's stubborn and sassy and sarcastic when she and Emma are apart and when they work together, she's still sassy and sarcastic it's just in reference to everyone else and not Emma... it's like they're trying to make you think that Regina can't stand being around Emma when the only time we see the real Regina is when she's with Emma-or Henry-

Me, highly impressed: -exactly!

Another student in the front raises their hand: So, that ties into your next point of it being predictable doesn't it?

Me: It does. Have you all seen the consistent template that's written for a queer character?

They all nod and someone with a good bit of brains stands up to go on a miniature rant.

Student: Yeah, I have and it sucks. There's always the one gay character- (he manages to say with an eye roll.) But then there's all these other 'templates' that are stereotypical. Like if they do marry Emma off to Hook and she magically realizes she doesn't love him or that she's gay, they use Regina and it becomes that thing where the lesbian or in Regina's case- the bisexual, quote on quote 'turns' the straight housewife and she realizes she never needed a man; just some good love.. Or one of them dies- or in their case, both of them apparently.. isn't that what was happening in season six?

Someone whispers, Lexa deserved better and puts up a fist. Other students nod at the other baby Swen and agree.

Student who laughs sarcastically all the time: Or how about this one, She realizes she's not gay either after a bunch of passionate nights with Regina and then she goes back to.. the one handed wonder.. God, don't let her get pregnant-

Other Student yells in pain: -DEAR GOD, PLEASE DON'T GIVE ME IMAGES OF ANOTHER WHINY VERSION OF HOOK! But let's not forget the ones who argue all the time and can't keep a stable relationship and are secretive and all that other junk the L Word made beyond obvious.And if that's not bad enough, they both get beards and are tortured for seasons with men they have no chemistry with and these are women who have chemistry with brick walls and can't even make that shit work-

Me: -Alright.. alright, focus. Yes, these are the templates I'm referring to. But let us not forget the ones that gay male characters also go through.

Someone snorts because they only have one template for gay males.

Student: You mean they're difficult and mysterious and cute little twinks who get thrown with other cute twinks or big buff guys with daddy issues and bam- magical ending?

Me: Correct..moving on.. The third points says-

I'm interrupted as they all say it together

Students: Tokenism!

Me: This is just the TV way of saying affirmative action.. Fanciful in meaning isn't it?

Student: It's trash!

Me: Yes, I do suppose it is... however, would someone like to express why the word tokenism still would apply to Swan Queen?

Hands immediately go up.

Student: Well, if we're being honest here, We already got it once before and we don't even know what the deal is with that story anymore...Swen fears that tokenism can still be a thing for Swan Queen because Eddie and Adam only attempt Swan Mills episodes when their ratings drop and as that becomes a case, so does the question of will they just do Swan Queen to stay on the air and never explore it the way they should... We've been hearing of season seven being the final season and our worry is no longer that they will fuck it up. Quite frankly we don't even want them to write it anymore, we'll take it off their hands and make our own show out of it. The problem arises when they create the asinine plan to use it as a last minute crutch to 'go out with a bang' or something. Like, What if this season completely tanks it and season seven is in fact the last season,right? They get the plan, Hmm maybe we should do Swan Queen in the last episode and that'll justify all of the crap we've put these people through, just to say they did something some grande and amazing thing for us, when in reality, they were trying to save their shitty revenue.

Student directly adjacent: Can I add on to that?

Other student nods.

Student: It really is sad though when we were willing to settle for anything- any sort of thing, just to know we were being heard no matter how much we fought- no matter how much our fandom grandmothers have fought. I think deep down, a lot of us know they just won't do it, like they really won't and even if they do, the luxury of it has just faded. The luxury of it would have faded and they'll try to force it to be overly gooey and 'loving' or cutesy when that's not what we asked for. We asked for a story that was true to life and very much so a proper representation for us all. We asked for a story that proved that strong women can work together and fall in love with one another. That they go through ups and downs and doubts and sticking things out and believing in one another and all of the other good things we've seen.... If we get it, if we are blessed enough to have Swan Queen- We'll be happy, but we'll be tired. We'll be exhausted and still disappointed that it had to come to this for us to be heard... I don't think we'll ever be as happy as we were the first day in season one when they met, if only because of the pain and heartbreak and the amount of horrible things that have been said to us just seems to, hit too many nails in our coffins. The fight will never be over, and we have accepted that, but I think everyone's getting tired of having to fight for something that shouldn't even be in question... and it's not to say we've lost our drive or we're losing hope. We're just done with trying to tell men who clearly don't understand that this is a revolution that needs to happen. This is a change that needs to be seen.. we're done trying to prove something we have too much evidence for to still be called delusional and reaching and all those other things. Everyone's tired of watching some forced 'chemistry' dictate how women should be treated and seen in this world. We're tired of seeing people be criminalized and denied a second chance at a love that won't leave or die on them i.e Regina.. We're done and we are tired of feeling like what we watch is what it will always be- nothing but a dream, an illusion... A fucking fairytale.

Silence encompasses the room and everyone thinks on it. (I legit cried when I thought about this part, so I'm sorry)

Me: We are tired, young ones.. we are, but we fight for us and we fight for you until it's over. We march for us and we march for you until we die and you are right, we have not lost hope.. we've just lost that many damns to give on speaking to a group of people who choose not to understand.... And maybe it is true, maybe we truly won't be fulfilled even if they do give us what we asked for.. what we've pleaded for.. and maybe it will make it all seem like it was in vain and maybe we will feel like we've accomplished nothing because we had to force hand for them to cave or pressure them... your grandmothers, mothers and aunts for this fandom realized many things.. we will not force anyone to give us anything. We will peacefully protest the injustice, but if we are not given what we rightly deserve.... we move on from trying with them and you know what we do? We make a world of our own. Eddie and Adam didn't give Swan Queen life... we did, and you did. They didn't see what we saw. They didn't understand it and they clearly didn't want any part of it, but the dream lives on. The reality lives on- the world keep spinning and life goes on and guess what, so will the memory of Swan Queen....Now I need you all to say this last point with me..together we will do this..

Even if nothing happens. Even if your words fall on deaf ears to some, remember the many that you have made hear you. Remember the many who sat with you and held your hands and kept you together...when things fall away and the glamour goes goodbye, remember your reality, your worth and yourself in all of this- Remember YOUR fight.. Through all things, every hard moment and every distressing situation.. for every negative message- comes ten thousand positive soldiers. Fight on and keep hope..

When you open your mouth and words come out and you say "May I have your attention please?" Remember that those who listen are those who wish to hear.... Remember that your fight is a plea to be heard and someone will listen.. remember that actions and words are one and you fuel them. Remember that when the world around you dies- you are to flourish and bring light back to it... remember that you fight for you just as you fight for me and I do the same... remember from now until the end of time that you've done your part in this world and if it never happens... still, keep hope, because maybe, just maybe...one day it will

With Love, Megan

#to the fandom #Swan queen fandom #swen #swan queen #this is for you guys

26 notes · View notes

funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

Text

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 14 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/savagely-funny-and-bitingly-honest-14-writers-on-their-favourite-philip-roth-novels/

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 14 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

Emma Brockes on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

I fell in love with Neil Klugman, forerunner to Portnoy and hero of Goodbye, Columbus, Philip Roth’s first novel, in my early 20s – 40 years after the novel was written. Descriptions of Roth’s writing often err towards violence; he is savagely funny, bitingly honest, filled with rage and thwarted desire. But although his first novel rehearses all the themes he would spend 60 years mining – sexual vanity, lower-middle-class consciousness (“for an instant Brenda reminded me of the pug-nosed little bastards from Montclair”), the crushing weight of family and, of course, American Jewish identity – what I loved about his first novel was its tenderness.

Goodbye, Columbus is steeped in the nostalgia only available to a 26-year-old man writing of himself in his earlier 20s, a greater psychological leap perhaps than between decades as they pass in later life. Neil is smart, inadequate, needy, competitive. He longs for Brenda and fears her rejection, tempering his desire with pre-emptive attack. All the things one recognises and does.

My mother told me that the first time she read Portnoy’s Complaint she wept and, at the time, I couldn’t understand why. It’s not a sad novel. But, of course, as I got older I understood. One cries not because it is sad but because it is true, and no matter how funny he is, reading Roth always leaves one a little devastated.

I picked up Goodbye, Columbus this morning and went back to Aunt Gladys, one of the most put-upon women in fiction, who didn’t serve pepper in her household because she had heard it was not absorbed by the body, and – the perfect Rothian line, wry, affectionate, with a nod to the infinite – “it was disturbing to Aunt Gladys to think that anything she served might pass through a gullet, stomach and bowel just for the pleasure of the trip”. How we’ll miss him.

Emma Brockes is a novelist and Guardian columnist

James Schamus on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

Philip Roth was more than capable of the kind of formal patterning and closure that preoccupied the work of Henry James, with whom he now stands shoulder-to-shoulder in the American literary firmament. So yes, one can always choose a singular favourite – mine is the early story Goodbye, Columbus, though I know the capacious greatness of American Pastoral probably warrants favourite status. But celebrating a single Roth piece poses its own challenges, in that his life’s work was a kind of never-ending battle against the idea that the great work of fiction was anything but, well, work – work as action, creation; work not as noun but as verb; work as glorious as the glove-making so lovingly described in Pastoral, and as ludicrous as the fevered toil of imagination that subtends the masturbatory repetitions of Portnoy’s Complaint. Factual human beings are fiction workers – it’s the only way they can make actual sense of themselves and the people around them, by, as Roth put it in Pastoral, always “getting them wrong” – and Roth was to be among the most dedicated of all wrong-getters, his life’s work thus paradoxically a fight against the formal closure that gave shape to the many masterpieces he wrote. Hence the spillage of self, of characters real and imagined, of characters really imagining and of selves fictionally enacting, from work to work to work. So, here, Philip Roth, is to a job well done.

James Schamus is a film-maker who directed an adaptation of Indignation in 2016

I read it when I was about 18 – an off-piste literary choice in my sobersided studenty world. I had been earnestly dealing with the Cambridge English Faculty reading list and picked up Portnoy having frowned my way through George Eliot’s Romola. The bravura monologue of Alex Portnoy wasn’t just the most outrageously, continuously funny thing I had ever read; it was the nearest thing a novel has come to making me feel very drunk.

And this world-famously Jewish book spoke intensely to my timid home counties Wasp inexperience because, with magnificent candour, it crashed into the one and only subject – which Casanova, talking about sex, called the “subject of subjects” – jerking off. The description of everyone in the audience, young and old, wanking at a burlesque show, including an old man masturbating into his hat (“Ven der putz shteht! Ven der putz shteht! Into the hat that he wears on his head!”) was just mind-boggling. A vision of hell that was also insanely funny. Then there is his agonised epiphany at understanding the word longing in his thwarted desire for a blonde “shikse”. (Was I, a Wasp reader, entitled to admit I shared that stricken swoon of yearning? Only it was a Jewish girl I was in love with.) Portnoy’s Complaint had me in a cross between a chokehold and a tender embrace: this is what a great book does.

Peter Bradshaw is the Guardian’s film critic

William Boyd on Zuckerman Unbound (1981)

Looking back at Philip Roth’s long bibliography, I realise I’m a true fan of early- and middle-Roth. I read everything that appeared from Goodbye, Columbus (I was led to Roth by the excellent film) but then kind of fell by the wayside in the mid 1980s with The Counterlife. As with Anthony Burgess and John Updike, Roth’s astonishing prolixity exhausted even his most loyal readers.

But I always loved the Zuckerman novels, in which “Nathan Zuckerman” leads a parallel existence to that of his creator. Zuckerman Unbound (1981) is the second in the sequence, following The Ghost Writer, and provides a terrifying analysis of what it must have been like for Roth to deal with the overwhelming fame and hysterical contumely that Portnoy’s Complaint provoked, as well as looking at the famous Quiz Show scandals of the 1950s. Zuckerman’s “obscene” novel is called Carnovsky, but the disguise is flimsy. Zuckerman is Roth by any other name, despite the author’s regular denials and prevarications.

Maybe, in the end, the Zuckerman novels are novels for writers, or for readers who dream of being writers. They are very funny and very true and they join a rich genre of writers’ alter ego novels. Anthony Burgess’s Enderby, Updike’s Bech, Fernando Pessoa’s Bernardo Soares, Ernest Hemingway’s Nick Adams, Edward St Aubyn’s Patrick Melrose and so on – the list is surprisingly long. One of the secret joys of writing fictionally is writing about yourself through the lens of fiction. Not every writer does it, but I bet you every writer yearns to. And Roth did it, possibly more thoroughly than anyone else – hence the enduring allure of the Zuckerman novels. Is this what Roth really felt and did – or is it a fiction? Zuckerman remains endlessly tantalising.

William Boyd is a novelist and screenwriter

Roth outside the Hebrew school he probably attended as a boy. Photograph: Bob Peterson/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

David Baddiel on Sabbath’s Theater (1995)

Philip Roth is not my favourite writer; that would be John Updike. However, sometimes, on the back of Updike’s – and many other literary giants – books, one reads the word “funny”. In fact, often the words “hilarious”, “rip-roaring”, “hysterical”. This is never true. The only writer in the entire canon of very, very high literature – I’m talking should’ve-got-the-Nobel-prize high – who is properly funny, laugh-out-loud funny, Peep Show funny, is Philip Roth.

As such my choice should perhaps be Portnoy’s Complaint, his most stand-uppy comic rant, which is gut-bustingly funny, even if you might never eat liver again. However – and not just because someone else will already have chosen that – I’m going for Sabbath’s Theater, his crazed outpouring on behalf of addled puppeteer Mickey Sabbath, an old man in mainly sexual mourning for his mistress Drenka, which could anyway be titled Portnoy’s Still Complaining But Now With Added Mortality. It has the same turbocharged furious-with-life comic energy as Portnoy, but a three-decades-older Roth has no choice now but to mix in, with his usual obsessions of sex and Jewishness, death: and as such it becomes – even as we watch, appalled, as Mickey masturbates on Drenka’s grave – his raging-against-the-dying-of-the-light masterpiece.

David Baddiel is a writer and comedian

Hadley Freeman on American Pastoral (1997)

American Pastoral bagged the Pulitzer – at last – for Philip Roth, but it is not, I suspect, his best-loved book with readers. Aside from his usual alter ego Nathan Zuckerman, the characters themselves aren’t as memorable as in, say, Portnoy’s Complaint, or even Sabbath’s Theater, which Roth wrote two years earlier. And yet, of all his books, American Pastoral probably lays the strongest claim that Roth was the great novelist of modern America.

Zuckerman, who is now living somewhere in the countryside, his body decaying in front of him, remembers a friend from high school, Seymour Levov, known as “the Swede”, who seemed to have everything: perfect body, perfect soul, perfect family. But then the Swede’s life is shattered when his daughter, Merry, literally blows up all of her father’s dreams, by setting off a bomb during the Vietnam protests and killing someone. The postwar generation has rejected all that their parents built for them, and while Roth uses the Levov families as symbols for America’s turmoil, they are far more subtly realised than that. And in a terrible way, now that school shootings – almost invariably done by young people – are an all-too-common occurrence in America, the bafflement the Swede feels about Merry seems all too relevant. “You wanted Miss America? Well, you’ve got her, with a vengeance, she’s your daughter!” the Swede’s brother famously shouts at him. In today’s America, more divided and gun-strewn than ever, it’s a line that still chills.

Hadley Freeman is an author and Guardian columnist

Hannah Beckerman on American Pastoral (1997)

By the time I read American Pastoral I was a 22-year-old diehard Roth fan. But no book of his that I had read previously – not the black humour of Portnoy’s Complaint, nor the blistering rage of Sabbath’s Theater – had prepared me for this raw and visceral dismantling of the American dream. With Seymour “Swede” Levov – legendary high school baseball player and inheritor of his father’s profitable glove factory – Roth presents us with the classic all-American hero, before unpicking his life, stitch by painful stitch. Swede’s relationship with his teenage daughter, Merry – once the apple of his eye, now an anti-Vietnam revolutionary who detonates Swede’s comfortable life – is undoubtedly one of the most powerful portrayals of father-daughter relationships anywhere in literature. But this is Roth, and his lens is never satisfied looking in a single direction. Through the downfall of Swede Levov, Roth portrays the effects of the grand narratives of history on the individual, and questions our notions of identity, family, ambition, nostalgia and love. Muscular and impassioned, American Pastoral oscillates seamlessly between rage and regret, all in Roth’s incisive, fearless prose. It is not just Roth’s best book: it is one of the finest American novels of the 20th century.

Hannah Beckerman is a novelist, journalist and producer of the BBC documentary Philip Roth’s America.

Roth in 1977. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Xan Brooks on I Married a Communist (1998)

Great novels hit you differently each time you revisit them, but a second reading of I Married a Communist felt like being flattened by a steamroller. For decades I had cast this as the brawling bantamweight of Roth’s American trilogy; bookended by the more polished American Pastoral and The Human Stain, and bent out of shape by the author’s personal animus towards ex-wife Claire Bloom (thinly veiled as Eve Frame, a self-loathing Jewish actor). These days, I think it may well be his best.

I Married a Communist charts the rise and fall of Ira Ringold, a leftist radio star who finds himself broken on the wheel of the 1950s red scare. Fuelled by righteous fury, it’s one of the great political novels of our age; a card-carrying Shakespearean tragedy with New Jersey dirt beneath its fingernails. And while the tale is primarily set during the McCarthy era, it tellingly bows out with a nightmarish account of Nixon’s 1994 funeral in which all the old monsters have been remade as respected elder statesmen. “And had Ira been alive to hear them, he would have gone nuts all over again at the world getting everything wrong.”

Xan Brooks is a novelist and journalist

Arifa Akbar on The Human Stain (2000)

I read The Human Stain when it was published in 2000. I was in a book club comprised of gender studies academics, gay women, women of colour. No men allowed. We had been reading bell hooks, Jamaica Kincaid and along came Philip Roth. I expected it to be savaged. I expected to do the savaging, having never read Roth before, precisely because of his much-disputed misogyny.

Then I read it, this tender, shocking and incendiary story on the failure of the American dream refracted through the prism of race, blackness and the alleged racism of Coleman Silk, a 71-year-old classics professor who embarks on an affair with a cleaner half his age, as if by way of consolation.

Here we go, I thought, and raised an eyebrow when she danced for this priapic old fool. But The Human Stain is much more than that single scene. Here was a Jewish American writer, taking on black American masculinity, filling it with its legacy of oppression, the perniciousness of the internalised white gaze, the “shame” that Silk feels that leads him to his lifetime’s masquerade. In less masterful hands, it could have read as dreadful appropriation.

I have re-read it since and it feels just as contemporary, like all great works of literature. It sums up so much about desire and ageing, but also institutionalised racism, the dangers of political correctness and colourism that we are increasingly talking about again.

Yes, we spoke of that dancing scene at our book club, but forgave it. There is something profoundly honest in the sexual dynamic between The Human Stain’s lovers. Roth caught male desire so viscerally and entwined it within the nexus of vulnerability, fear and the fragile male ego. I read the other Nathan Zuckerman novels afterwards and realised that you don’t go to Roth to explore female desire, but you read him for so much else.

Arifa Akbar is a critic and journalist

Jonathan Freedland on The Plot Against America (2004)

Rarely can a four-word note scribbled in the margin have born such precious fruit. In the early 2000s, Roth read an account of the Republican convention of 1940, where there had been talk of drafting in a celebrity non-politician – the superstar aviator and avowed isolationist Charles Lindbergh – to be the party’s presidential nominee. “What if they had?” Roth asked himself. The result was The Plot Against America, a novel that imagined Lindbergh in the White House, ousting Franklin Roosevelt by promising to keep the US out of the European war with Hitler and to put “America First”.

The result is a polite and gradual slide into an authentic American fascism, as observed by the narrator “Philip Roth”, then a nine-year-old boy who watches as his suburban Jewish New Jersey family is shattered by an upending of everything they believed they could take for granted about their country.

The book is riveting – perhaps the closest Roth wrote to a page-turning political thriller – but also haunting. Long after I read it, I can still feel the anguish of the Roth family as they travel as tourists to Washington, DC and feel the chill of their fellow citizens; eventually they are turned away from the hotel where they had booked a room, clearly – if not explicitly – because they are Jews. Like Margaret Atwood’s Gilead, the America of this novel stays in the mind because of the plausible, bureaucratic detail. Philip’s older brother is packed off to Kentucky under a programme known as Homestead 42, run by “the Office of American Absorption”, whose mission is to smooth off the Jews’ supposed rough edges, so that they might dissolve into the American mainstream, or perhaps disappear altogether.

It is not a perfect novel. The final stretch becomes tangled in a rush of frenetic speculations and imaginings. But it has an enduring power, which helps explain why the election of Donald Trump – who has often repeated, without irony or even apparent awareness, the slogan “America First” – had readers turning back to The Plot Against America, to reflect on how a celebrity president blessed with a mastery of the modern media might turn on a marginalised minority to cement his bond with the American heartland. Nearly 70 years after Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here, Roth insisted that it could – and he detailed precisely how it would feel if it did.

Jonathan Freedland is an author and a Guardian columnist

Roth in New York City. Photograph: Orjan F. Ellingvag#51SY ED/Getty Images

Linda Grant on Nemesis (2010)

After Philip Roth published The Plot Against America in 2004 and came to the end of the great sequence of long, state-of-the-USA novels beginning with Sabbath’s Theater, which were his brilliant, late, but not last period, he published a number of short novels that felt like a coda to the main body of work. They centred round the ageing, dying male, the declining libido, old age all alone. Then, with a final surprising flick of his fingers, he wrote Nemesis, returning to his youth in postwar Jewish Newark where it all starts. He uncovered one last story, the forgotten epidemic of polio that affected mainly children and young adults and whose malevolent transmission was the subject of conspiracy theories, a population blaming, as ever, the Jews.

It is the story of aspiring heroes and their moral failure, the lifelong consequences of striving to do the right thing and disastrously doing something so wrong you become trapped in a carapace of guilt. With his protagonist Bucky Cantor, Roth encapsulates his fascination with the heroic generation of Jewish kids destined for great things, and the ones who failed. Though I’ve read all of Roth, it’s the novel I’m most likely to recommend to absolute beginners to his work. It’s him in miniature, yet perfectly whole.

Linda Grant is a novelist

Alex Ross Perry on The Professor of Desire (1977)

I discovered the novels of Philip Roth as I have most literature during my 15 years in New York: on the subway. The experience of pouring over the sexual nuance of The Professor of Desire while surrounded by children and the elderly created a perplexing dichotomy between brown paper bag smut and totemic American fiction. This was both transformative and inspiring, illuminating for me the possibility of couching perversion, sexuality, anger and humour into a piece of work rightly perceived as serious and intellectual. Each transgressive element became less shocking as I made my way through Roth’s novels on F trains and Q trains, the feelings of shock replaced with the intended understanding of what these “amoral” acts said about the characters and the novels they inhabited.

I’m not sure if I would call The Professor of Desire my favorite of Roth’s novels (an honor I generally bestow upon Sabbath’s Theater, which I have learned seems to be the low key favourite of those in the know) but it was certainly the first to announce itself to me as massively influential. The Kepesh books introduced me to a view of improper, quasi-abusive relationships within academia that gave me the professor character in my film The Color Wheel.

When I began writing The Color Wheel in 2010, Roth was my north star. I intended to reverse engineer a narrative with the same youthful arrogance flaunting sexual taboos that excited, then inspired, me in his work. Depicting the story of an incestuous sibling relationship, but presenting it in the guise of a black and white independent art film, felt like a genuine way to honor the work of this titan; those books bound in the finest jacket design the twentieth century had to offer, elegantly concealing without so much as a hint the delightful perversions contained within.

Alex Ross Perry is an actor and filmmaker

Amy Rigby on The Ghost Writer

I refuse to accept the assertion that misogyny in Philip Roth’s novels makes it impossible for a woman to find herself in his characters. I want to – have a right to – identify with the great man or the schmuck.

I started reading The Ghost Writer looking for a road map to a stunning middle-career but found myself in a house of mirrors. The 46-year-old author looks back at himself as an accomplished beginner who visits an older giant of letters. Parents, wives, lovers – even Anne Frank – weigh in. It’s funny and moving and compact.

I picked it up again today, touched that anyone would ask for my thoughts on this genius whose work ethic and output made his greatness undeniable, whether you believe in him or not, and found this passage contained in Judge Wapter’s letter to young Nathan Zuckerman, who recounts it to us with such scorn and hope I couldn’t help but feel like a schmuck myself, or at least a poser: “I would like to think that if and when the day should dawn that you receive your invitation to Stockholm to accept a Nobel Prize, we will have had some small share in awakening your conscience to the responsibilities of your calling.’” You really were robbed, Phil.

Amy Rigby is a singer and songwriter. Her songs include From Philip Roth to R Zimmerman

Joyce Carol Oates on Roth’s legacy

Philip Roth was a slightly older contemporary of mine. We had come of age in more or less the same repressive 50s era in America – formalist, ironic, “Jamesian”, a time of literary indirection and understatement, above all impersonality – as the high priest TS Eliot had preached: “Poetry is an escape from personality.”

Boldly, brilliantly, at times furiously, and with an unsparing sense of the ridiculous, Philip repudiated all that. He did revere Kafka – but Lenny Bruce as well. (In fact, the essential Roth is just that anomaly: Kafka riotously interpreted by Bruce.) But there was much more to Philip than furious rebellion. For at heart he was a true moralist, fired to root out hypocrisy and mendacity in public life as well as private. Few saw The Plot Against America as actual prophecy, but here we are. He will abide.

Joyce Carol Oates is a novelist

0 notes

funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

Text

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 10 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/savagely-funny-and-bitingly-honest-10-writers-on-their-favourite-philip-roth-novels/

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 10 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

Emma Brockes on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

Emma Brockes is a novelist and Guardian columnist

James Schamus on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

James Schamus is a film-maker who directed an adaptation of Indignation in 2016

Peter Bradshaw is the Guardian’s film critic

William Boyd on Zuckerman Unbound (1981)

William Boyd is a novelist and screenwriter

Roth outside the Hebrew school he probably attended as a boy. Photograph: Bob Peterson/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

David Baddiel on Sabbath’s Theater (1995)

David Baddiel is a writer and comedian

Hadley Freeman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hadley Freeman is an author and Guardian columnist

Hannah Beckerman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hannah Beckerman is a novelist, journalist and producer of the BBC documentary Philip Roth’s America.

Roth in 1977. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Xan Brooks on I Married a Communist (1998)

Xan Brooks is a novelist and journalist

Arifa Akbar on The Human Stain (2000)

Arifa Akbar is a critic and journalist

Jonathan Freedland on The Plot Against America (2004)

Jonathan Freedland is an author and a Guardian columnist

Roth in New York City. Photograph: Orjan F. Ellingvag#51SY ED/Getty Images

Linda Grant on Nemesis (2010)

Linda Grant is a novelist

Alex Ross Perry on The Professor of Desire (1977)

Alex Ross Perry is an actor and filmmaker

Amy Rigby on The Ghost Writer

Amy Rigby is a singer and songwriter. Her songs include From Philip Roth to R Zimmerman

Joyce Carol Oates on Roth’s legacy

Joyce Carol Oates is a novelist

0 notes

funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

Text

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 10 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/savagely-funny-and-bitingly-honest-10-writers-on-their-favourite-philip-roth-novels/

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 10 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

Emma Brockes on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

Emma Brockes is a novelist and Guardian columnist

James Schamus on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

James Schamus is a film-maker who directed an adaptation of Indignation in 2016

Peter Bradshaw is the Guardian’s film critic

William Boyd on Zuckerman Unbound (1981)

William Boyd is a novelist and screenwriter

Roth outside the Hebrew school he probably attended as a boy. Photograph: Bob Peterson/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

David Baddiel on Sabbath’s Theater (1995)

David Baddiel is a writer and comedian

Hadley Freeman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hadley Freeman is an author and Guardian columnist

Hannah Beckerman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hannah Beckerman is a novelist, journalist and producer of the BBC documentary Philip Roth’s America.

Roth in 1977. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Xan Brooks on I Married a Communist (1998)

Xan Brooks is a novelist and journalist

Arifa Akbar on The Human Stain (2000)

Arifa Akbar is a critic and journalist

Jonathan Freedland on The Plot Against America (2004)

Jonathan Freedland is an author and a Guardian columnist

Roth in New York City. Photograph: Orjan F. Ellingvag#51SY ED/Getty Images

Linda Grant on Nemesis (2010)

Linda Grant is a novelist

Alex Ross Perry on The Professor of Desire (1977)

Alex Ross Perry is an actor and filmmaker

Amy Rigby on The Ghost Writer

Amy Rigby is a singer and songwriter. Her songs include From Philip Roth to R Zimmerman

Joyce Carol Oates on Roth’s legacy

Joyce Carol Oates is a novelist

0 notes

funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

Text

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 14 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

New Post has been published on http://funnythingshere.xyz/savagely-funny-and-bitingly-honest-14-writers-on-their-favourite-philip-roth-novels/

'Savagely funny and bitingly honest' – 14 writers on their favourite Philip Roth novels

Emma Brockes on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

Emma Brockes is a novelist and Guardian columnist

James Schamus on Goodbye, Columbus (1959)

James Schamus is a film-maker who directed an adaptation of Indignation in 2016

Peter Bradshaw is the Guardian’s film critic

William Boyd on Zuckerman Unbound (1981)

William Boyd is a novelist and screenwriter

Roth outside the Hebrew school he probably attended as a boy. Photograph: Bob Peterson/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

David Baddiel on Sabbath’s Theater (1995)

David Baddiel is a writer and comedian

Hadley Freeman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hadley Freeman is an author and Guardian columnist

Hannah Beckerman on American Pastoral (1997)

Hannah Beckerman is a novelist, journalist and producer of the BBC documentary Philip Roth’s America.

Roth in 1977. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Xan Brooks on I Married a Communist (1998)

Xan Brooks is a novelist and journalist

Arifa Akbar on The Human Stain (2000)

Arifa Akbar is a critic and journalist

Jonathan Freedland on The Plot Against America (2004)

Jonathan Freedland is an author and a Guardian columnist

Roth in New York City. Photograph: Orjan F. Ellingvag#51SY ED/Getty Images

Linda Grant on Nemesis (2010)

Linda Grant is a novelist

Alex Ross Perry on The Professor of Desire (1977)

Alex Ross Perry is an actor and filmmaker

Amy Rigby on The Ghost Writer

Amy Rigby is a singer and songwriter. Her songs include From Philip Roth to R Zimmerman

Joyce Carol Oates on Roth’s legacy

Joyce Carol Oates is a novelist

0 notes