#( that betrayed someone ; especially in the ranks of the harbingers ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fatuispolaris · 7 months ago

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headcanon time! i posted this on my old blog but it was a little bit outdated so i'll fix that right up. this post delves into how i picture childe's relationship with the fatui, with a particular focus placed on the other harbingers. i'll cover the tsaritsa and how he views subordinates as well. word isn't law with these as they can develop or we can plot different threads if you write one of these muses, but this is sort of a default that i'll approach unless we decide upon otherwise. as always, under the cut for length.

the tsaritsa - after feeling rejected by most of his family and village, childe views her as the one person that doesn't reject him. she welcomed him among the harbingers with open arms and kind words, and it's why he's so fiercely loyal. he truly believes that her heart is good and wishes to help her achieve her goals. he feels a kinship with her, and strives to do well in his role because of that. he's often been called the tsaritsa's dog because of his loyalty.

the jester - childe recognizes him as the leader but honestly doesn't think of him too much. he has enough sense to be respectful and obviously follows orders, but he doesn't feel any loyalty to him. he is a bit wary of him, because part of him believes pierro's ideals may not necessarily align with the tsaritsa's (as most of the harbingers don't). he would like to challenge him to a fight, though.

the captain - childe admires him greatly. he knows a warrior when he sees one, and he'd love to cross blades with him, even if it'll be certain defeat on his own end. he simply wants the honor of learning from a battle with someone like him. as a new recruit when he'd first joined the fatui, capitano was a bit of a hero to him. he views him a bit like a goal to overcome one day, despite his admiration. he wants to best him in his quest to become stronger.

the doctor - of all of his coworkers, dottore is among the ones that childe likes the least. he keeps his distance as much as he can, because the guy gives him the creeps. he doesn't know all of the details, but he's heard stories about all the different sorts of experiments the doctor and his segments (rip) get up to, and he wants no part in that.

the damselette - one of his comrades that he knows the least, he keeps his distance from her too as something just feels incredibly off about her. he's curious, of course, because he'd like to fight her too (he wants to fight all of his comrades), but there's a hidden darkness about her that gives even him pause. he mostly just doesn't understand columbina. a lot of his coworkers he believes he's gotten a pretty good read on, but he can't quite grasp what her deal is. he's not sure he wants to find out.

the knave - like most of the rest of his comrades, she's cold and committed to her own goals. more than the rest of them, she doesn't bother to hide that she has ulterior motives, and wouldn't hesitate to betray any of them. she seems to regard him with indifference.

the rooster - perhaps it is naïve of him, but childe truly believes that aside from the tsaritsa, pulcinella is the only other one among the harbingers that feels an ounce of care for him. he's one of the only ones that regularly makes conversation with childe, and since pulcinella himself spends most of his time in snezhnaya, childe often looks to him for updates on his family. pulcinella has never given him a reason to distrust him. he seems just as loyal to the tsaritsa as childe is, and has been nothing but encouraging from the start. pulcinella was the one that noticed him among the new recruits and helped him climb the ranks so fast, so childe is grateful to him.*

the balladeer - oddly enough, childe always felt a sense of one-sided kinship with him. although scaramouche and he often spared antagonizing words for each other (especially scaramouche, childe usually just responded to his scathing words), he knew that the other was a bit of an oddball among the harbingers, like himself, which is a funny way of putting it considering that all of the harbingers are odd already. he never knew too much, because it wasn't like they were friends, but he was aware that the two of them were seen more like assets/weapons. when he first was promoted to the rank of harbinger, childe tried approaching him and becoming friends because he thought the balladeer was young like himself. naturally, that went horribly...**

the marionette - she seems a bit similar to the doctor in his eyes, the mad scientist type that places their research above all morals and reason. they haven't crossed paths much, but he can tell the disdain is mutual. he figures sandrone, like most of the other harbingers, sees him as some idiotic and incompetent kid.

the fair lady - from the start, signora was always rude to him. she seemed to take joy in undermining him when she could, treating him like he was lesser—more than the others, even. he never knew much about her, as signora seemed to always present herself as some cold-hearted witch. given her place among the harbingers, he knows she has to have some sort of past too. he feels a bit of sympathy, despite everything.

the regrator - his feelings regarding pantalone are mostly neutral. childe tries to maintain a good relationship because he knows pantalone is in charge of the fatui's coffers. he likes to think they're on friendly enough terms since pantalone's entrusted him to oversee the northland bank from time to time, but he knows better than to actually trust a guy like him.

subordinates (skirmishers, mages, named/unnamed npcs/etc.) - childe doesn't exactly try to become buddy-buddy with his underlings (despite silently and unwittingly yearning for friendship/acceptance), but he does respect them. he doesn't actively try to harm them out of a sick sense of joy, nor is he the type to abandon them should a mission go awry. he listens to their opinions and often likes spoiling those that work directly under him. he likes hearing them talk about their families and will often share about his with them. just because he's a good boss to them doesn't mean he's a push over, though. he might not kill them like some of his comrades do, but he doesn't shy away from striking fear in them either, should he need to. because of his respect for them, they respect him, too.

* this is hinted at in scaramouche's voicelines about pulcinella, but childe is absolutely misguided in his view of him. i think pulcinella's closeness to childe's family/childe himself is a means of insurance. by maintaining contact with childe's loved ones pulcinella essentially has childe in the palm of his hands. i hc that pulci does this as a means of ensuring childe will work for him whenever he needs him to. childe's treated a bit like an attack dog, and pulcinella thinks it wise to have someone like that on his side.

** this depends on whether a thread takes place before or after the events of 3.3. if it takes places after, then childe does not remember scaramouche. also, i've inferred that scaramouche and childe might've talked quite a bit because of scara's familiarity with childe's family situation, as well as what he had to say about childe (calling him weak and dumb, lmfao). this coupled with his line to signora about her and childe always complicating things... he seems to, in his own roundabout way, express concern for childe (and signora) so... i won't say they were friends, but i think they definitely talked.

anyway like i said this is all sort of a baseline to how i approach interactions but i'm definitely open to plotting different stuff and absolutely 100% wanna write with other harbingers so! i want childe to have work enemies, work buddies, etc etc. if you write a harbinger/fatui let's ball c:

#( headcanons. )#honestly this is almost entirely the same just... moved some stuff around lol

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hawksward · 4 years ago

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Wolves in Sheep's Clothing Ch. 1: Push/Pull (Childe/OC)

Since being granted a vision at the tender age of 10, Irina has owed her life to the Tsaritsa and dedicated herself to rising through the ranks of the Fatui. In becoming a top-ranking diplomat she's received her easiest assignment yet: ensure the 11th Fatui Harbinger remains ignorant of La Signora's plan to obtain the gnosis of Rex Lapis. A simple task for someone who's made a career out of lying.

Unfortunately, even the simplest tasks can go awry when feelings get in the way.

Rating: E (For eventual smut)

Warnings: None that I can think of for this chapter, there will eventually be smut

Banner credit goes to @shinsotired because I'm incapable of art.

Prologue:

Cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t cold. At first, the nerves in her fingertips were screaming, the skin exposed through the holes in her worn gloves. But now it was different.

The cold had faded into warmth as she laid on the ground in the alley. At first, it was uncomfortably hot. So hot she wanted to strip off her already thin winter coat and hat. But now it was pleasantly warm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.

But it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

The snow seemed to fall in waves, flakes occasionally falling into her eyes. The girl flexed her fingers before closing her eyes, they were becoming harder and harder to move.

I’m dying

The thought echoed in her head. She couldn’t decide if she was scared or relieved. If she died there would be no more suffering. Tears slipped out of her eyes, freezing on her cheeks.

I can’t. Not here. Not like this.

She curled herself into a ball. Clenching her fists as tight as she could to stay awake. She desperately tried to conserve what little body heat she had left.

The voices were faint at first, two men engaging in idle chatter as they strolled through the alley. One man’s footsteps stopped short when he saw her, much to the dismay of his partner.

“Leave it Misha. Street kids die every day here.” His foot pushed her from her side onto her back. She could barely open her eyes, any energy she had for defiance long gone. She immediately knew the man by his mask. Fatui.

“She’s holding something.” Misha reached down to pry open her clenched fist.

Her palm was soaked in blood around an object she knew she wasn’t holding before. Although she couldn’t quite make out what it was from her angle, she noticed the man’s eyes go wide.

“How many street kids do you know who have been blessed by the Tsaritsa?” He plucked the object from her hand and held it to the lamplight. A cryo vision.

“What’s your name, child?”

Her voice came as a whisper

“Irina”

Ch. 1:

The wind in Liyue Harbor was far milder than the chill winds in Snezhnaya. The boat journey was amicable, albeit long, and she would be in Liyue for the foreseeable future. Even from the docks, she could tell. The whole city was in chaos.

Only a day passed since the Rite of Descension, a disaster of epic proportions, and it was clear there were still no answers.

Irina leaned over the side of the boat, watching the fish scatter as the anchor plummeted into the sand below. Men hurried into the boat the moment the gangplank fell, eager to unload the crates of liquor shipped from the motherland.

Pushing herself off the rail, Irina made her way down the gangplank. She knew next to nothing about her assignment. Only that Rex Lapis was dead and there was now a sea of red tape between the Tsaritsa and the gnosis.

“I trust you’re our new diplomat?”

Her attention was brought to the man before her. He had half a head of height on her with bright auburn hair and even brighter blue eyes. It was clear from what he was wearing that he was Fatui.

“Yes. I’ve been sent by Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, to aid in the issue with the exuvia.” She held out her hand for a handshake only for the man to hold her hand to his lips, placing a small kiss before releasing.

“I’m Childe. We’ll be working closely together while you’re here in Liyue. Not like I needed the assistance, I have the situation under control.”

She wasn’t surprised that he was less than excited for her arrival, she didn’t climb through the ranks to take easy assignments.

“Aster.” It was an alias of course, she couldn’t remember the last time she used her real name. “You must be Tartaglia then. Don’t mind me. I’m here to help grease the bureaucratic gears. I won’t be interfering with your bank loan operation.”

Irina knew that the Northland Bank was a large source of revenue for the Tsaritsa in Liyue. She also knew that their interest rates and collection practices were less than ethical. Not like it was any of her concern.

The smile on Childe’s face faltered for only a second, but it was enough to betray his false hospitality. He was a harbinger, most Fatui agents and diplomats alike wouldn’t dare talk to him in that manner. But most diplomats weren’t hand chosen by the Tsaritsa herself.

“Well Aster, I’m sure you’re tired from the journey but why don’t I show you around and get you acquainted with the members of the Northland Bank, where you’ll be stationed. As your superior officer allow me to give you the grand tour”

His words weren’t lost on her. Although she wouldn’t be reporting to him on her assignment she needed to appear like she was. She couldn’t have him asking questions.

“Of course, Lord Tartaglia ” the words rolled off her tongue like venom “Please lead the way.”

——

It was clear from the endless amount of stairs he had her climb to the Yujing Terrace that he was looking to torture her. Nothing about the tour was optimal and only served to exhaust her further.

“Don't tell me you’re getting tired already!” Childe was beaming from ear to ear

She wanted to stab him. They had gone back and forth to a new landmark, each somehow across the city from the other, for the better part of 3 hours. And while she was in shape, she didn’t have an elite soldier’s stamina. Nor did Childe have to make the trek in heels.

“Of course not, I’m ready to experience all the city has to offer” She put on her most charming smile. She wouldn’t let him best her, especially not so early in the game.

Childe laughed before waving her over to the nearby railing. The view from the terrace was beautiful. From the top of the city was a view of the harbor. The streets below just beginning to light the lanterns for the night.

“I see you know how to make an impression” Irina smiled to herself as she drank in the view.

“What can I say? I have many talents.” He leaned against the rail, his eyes trained on her. “One of them is sensing bullshit. So why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.”

Irina raised an eyebrow, turning her attention to the man before her. “I’m here because the Tsaritsa is unimpressed at how long it’s taking you to complete your mission. Signora obtained her gnosis within a week of arriving in Mondstat.”

“Signora didn't have to contend with a dead Barbatos.” He countered

“If you think you can do this on your own then by all means be my guest.” Irina pushed herself off the rail, “But as of today all matters dealing with the Liyue Qixing will be handled by me. If you take issue with that you’re free to look through the paperwork I brought with me.”

Childe had no retort, but it was clear that she struck a nerve by comparing him to Signora. It didn’t matter. She would complete her mission as soon as possible and then leave Liyue for her next assignment. which would hopefully not involve the 11th harbinger.

“Well then. Allow me to escort the lady to the Northland Bank. Ekaterina has prepared the small office for your arrival.”

——

Childe didn’t lie when he said the office was small. Her office was a glorified storage closet on the upper level of the bank, barely large enough to fit a reasonably sized oak desk already stacked with paperwork. She knew when she wasn’t meeting with the Qixing she would be expected to help out with administrative work for the bank.

She didn’t expect for her superior to drop all of his work on her as well.

Before he left for the night he tossed a map her way, a large red x marking where her accommodations would be. She was mildly surprised he hadn’t offered to walk her to the inn to keep tabs on her. Then again the Fatui presence in the city was nothing to scoff at, someone would see her eventually and most likely report back.

Thankfully the inn wasn’t difficult to find, centered in the middle of the merchant district. Accommodations weren’t large by any means, but the warm wood and red bedding were lush and inviting.

What little luggage she brought on the boat was tucked away in the corner, next to a small bathroom. She never carried much, even a small suitcase seeming excessive after growing up with nothing.

Irina glanced at the clock sitting on the dresser. Currently 11 pm. She needed to be at Liuli pavilion in 3 hours. She changed out of her clothes for something that didn’t scream ‘Fatui agent skulking around at all hours of the night’.

—-

Liuli Pavillion definitely looked closed. Irina passed maybe two people on her way from the inn to the restaurant, both of whom were definitely too drunk to remember anyone who passed them by.

Irina checked her surroundings before knocking on the door twice, followed by a brief pause, followed by four more times. She could hear footsteps coming from inside before unlocking the door.

“Can I help you? We’re closed” a middle-aged man looked her up and down, a scowl on his face

“I’m here with the jueyun chili order.”

“Already got it last week.” He barked

“Yes, but this order is a special delivery from Qingce Village.”

The man gave a curt nod before stepping out of the way. The windows in the restaurant were tightly drawn shut, locking in the dim candlelight. Irina made her way to the voices coming from the adjacent room.

The room held a small square table, one seat was filled by a dark haired man in an expensive looking suit. The other was filled with none other than the 8th harbinger herself.

Signora.

“You’re late.” She didn’t bother to look up as she took a sip from her glass of wine “Sit down, we don’t have much time.”

Irina sat down as the man from the door placed a glass of wine in front of her. She took a small sip, locking eyes with the dark haired man across the table. Was Signora going to make an introduction or not?

“This is my subordinate, Aster. She’ll be your point of contact for all things related to the contract” Signora began “Aster, this is Zhongli, you may know him better as Rex Lapis”

Irina nearly choked on her drink. She knew the anemo archon, Barbatos, had taken on a human form before having his gnosis taken. But she never imagined she’d see another archon in the flesh. The Tsaritsa living among her people wasn’t exactly common.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” She wasn't sure how to respond. Clearly he didn’t want many to know if he was going by a different name. But was it alright to treat him like a normal person?

“None of that. In this form, I am simply Zhongli, consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” He gave a small, polite smile before sipping from his wine “Not to mention going forward we’ll be colleagues.”

“Listen closely because I’m only going to explain this once.” Signora reclined back in her seat, her fierce gaze not once leaving Irina, “The Tsaritsa has signed a contract with Rex Lapis for procurement of the gnosis. Since I can’t be in the city without drawing attention, you will be my proxy. You will tell absolutely no one of the contract nor about Zhongli’s identity. Do you understand?”

“Of course Lady Signora. I will maintain the utmost discretion.”

“Good. Since you’ll be doing it anyway, I want a report on anything you can discern from the Qixing as well.” The tall blonde woman stood from her chair, turning her back momentarily before returning her focus to Irina. “One last thing. If Tartaglia so much as develops an idea of what’s happening here consider yourself out of a job.”

Irina rose from her chair to give her a nod and a salute before the other woman left the restaurant. She had no intention of failing a mission, but it was clear that Signora would rip her entire life out from under her faster than she could blink if she did.

“Please, enjoy the glass of wine with me before you leave.” Zhongli motioned for her to return to her seat “We should get to know each other since we’ll be working closely together. Not to mention it is a vintage.”

#childe #genshin impact #tartaglia #childe/reader #childe x reader #childe/oc #childe x oc #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x oc #genshin #genshin childe

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girlysword · 4 years ago

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Manifest: Pre-Season 3 Predictions and Thoughts

Now that the season 3 trailer is out, here is an overview of my holdover theories from the last two seasons and any new thoughts sparked by the trailer

Dangers:

Death Date and the Major: I was not expecting these conflicts to be resolved so quickly, although new conflicts were introduced. Adrian believes 828 is a sign of the apocalypse, he will probably stoke the fire of 828 hate. Also, since the key to the Death Date seems to be “follow the callings, no matter what,” our heroes may be torn between doing sketchy things and possibly dying (especially since the trailer seems to confirm that they did die and were saved by the supernatural callings [and that the plane blew up in season 1 because there couldn’t be two planes at the same time]). As for the Major, someone will inevitably take her place and will be more guarded than she was. There is also the question of whether this was just her pet project or does this go higher up? If, say, the President called Vance and told him to stop helping the 828-ers, would Vance betray his new friends?

Disappearances: Cal’s kidnappers disappeared, suggested that they went the way of 828. This would be the 4th time after Zeke, Griffin, Fiona and Billy Daly. Are these disappearances increasing in frequency, suggesting an imminent apocalyptic event? Or have these disappearances always happened, it’s just widespread info in the modern age and the fact so many people disappeared with 828 that highlighted the phenomenon and this has always happened? History buffs, find mysterious disappearances where the person suddenly reappeared. Here’s hoping that the Agatha Christie disappearance was an 828 event and her novels published after her disappearance hold clues. I still believe the fortune teller Olive met had her own 828 episode. There is also still the question of how Al-Zuras is tied into this. I predict TJ will return from Egypt, riding on a white horse, with critical information just in the nick of time (which means he’ll probably be absent, bar Skype calls, for the first half of the season, but sometimes quality is better than quantity).

Xers, Meth Dealers and Kidnappers, O My!: If there is a time jump between seasons, the first episode could see the return of Cal’s kidnappers. It would be cool if their Death Date were the end of the season, so the finale’s tension is waiting to see whether or not they croak (like a villainous version of the tension of the season 2 finale, wondering whether Zeke was gonna die). They could feed into Adrian’s doomsday theory if it seems that they are following their Callings. The Xers are still a threat, Tamara may take on a leadership role with her brother in jail and the group may team up with Adrian.

Saanvi: She is not a danger, but boy is she in a lot of danger. Her attempt to cure the Callings/Death Date will definitely continue to have side effects and it may have even ensured that the Death Date kicks in. She also murdered a high ranking military officer. She’ll definitely be laying low if not in complete hiding at the start of season 3. Thankfully her shipping prospects provide her with enough plot armor that I don’t think she’ll die in season 3 (I am worried about her after that, though). As it is I think we’ll see a storyline divide between her and the other main characters. She and Vance will team up to take on the government and the other characters will deal with the supernatural stuff, with Ben bridging the gap.

Shipping:

I still think that Jared and Michaela are going to get together at least one more time, that’s just how shows like these work. Hopefully it’ll be brief and then it’ll be done. What could lead to troubled waters for Zeke and Michaela you ask? Well, a couple of things. Now that Zeke no longer has a ticking clock pushing his self-betterment, he might fall back into bad habits, and/or Zeke and Michaela could become complacent in their marriage, letting all the other drama in their lives take precedence. Be on the lookout for either or both of them starting to keep secrets from each other, the best part of their relationship in season 2 was their honesty and immediate airing of any possible issues. I do hope that Zeke and Michaela are endgame, because when their relationship is good it is great. I also hope that Jared and Drea get together because I think they could have a really fun dynamic. They would be the sarcastic couple that gets exasperated with their psychic friends (just think of the background side glances!).

I definitely think Benvi is going to happen but it is definitely a slowburn, so I don’t expect them to get together until the end of season 3 or even until season 4. We haven’t even gotten to Ben coming to the realization that he might have feelings for Saanvi, which I don’t expect to happen until either right before or during the straining of his marriage to Grace. I predicted before that Grace might lie about Eden’s parentage to protect her, and I still think that’s a good theory, especially since Grace’s first Calling was telling not to get a DNA test. Ben would understand, but that would still be a tough situation. Also, Grace was 100% supportive last season, but last season also showed that Ben’s obsessive tendencies can get him into trouble. Grace and Ben might fall out over the interpretation of a Calling, particularly if the well-being of their kids is concerned. I am starting to think that Benvi might not be good for Saanvi’s health. Saanvi has picked fights with a supernatural force and the US military, it would take some serious plot armor to protect her from the serious danger heading her way. I feel like the writers might kill off Saanvi after her and Ben get together to twist in the knife. But, I was wrong about Zeke’s chances of survival, maybe I’m just a pessimist.

Olive and TJ are flipping cute together and I hope that they are a relatively drama free couple to provide a breather from the other couples. One of my favorite things about TJ and Zeke is how well they fit into the family, I feel like if OlivexTJ or ZekexMichaela ever broke up TJ and Zeke would still be close friends with other members of the family. I really hope that TJ becomes Ben’s son-in-law someday (with Zeke’s dad in the background shouting, “I called it!”).

Characters:

Olivia: I hope Olive doesn’t go to college (I don’t have anything against college, I loved going to college and i believe that people should continue to learn after high school, even if its just Skillshare. I just don’t think it’s a practical choice for everyone and that it would be interesting to watch Olive follow a path different from the “norm”.), beyond taking mythology classes and the like at community college. I still think that she’ll take over the Church of the Believers, especially since Adrian thinks the 828-ers are harbingers of the apocalypse. The Church could split between Adrian and Olive.

Ben: Believing that they died on that plane is not going to help him chill.

#manifest nbc

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chwrpg · 5 years ago

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DAVID 'ACE' CLAYMORE. greaser; twenty-six. lewis tan. TAKEN.

and, as david once said:

“You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

The Claymore name has long been synonymous with the worst of the worst. People cross the street to stay out of Ace's way, shopkeepers have near given up trying to stop him from taking whatever he likes - tax, he calls it - and no one who finds themselves at the end of his knife has a pleasant story to tell about it.

Raised by a hard assed, gambling-addicted, neglectful-at-best greaser from the self proclaimed ‘good old days’, David hadn’t been given a lot of options in life. He could either become like his older brother Sid and join the greasers, or he could be soft like his younger brother Cam and be destined for a life of disappointment. It didn’t matter how smart they were, the world didn’t care about anyone from their side of the tracks, and it never would.

He’d never been a nice kid, always getting into fights at school (when he bothered to go), shoplifting so he’d at least have something in his stomach to settle the hunger pains, and relentlessly picking fights with his little brother over anything and everything. The only redeeming thing about him was that he’d grown up around Diego Cruz and Damon Winston, but not even Diego’s sparkling personality and favor with the adults around them could cover for his misdeeds forever. Then once Rosewood Academy got a hold of the eldest Cruz, he suddenly had much better things to be doing than trying to break into One-Eyed Willy's house for a laugh.

Around the same time Damon’s parents had been murdered, Sid had told him it was time he made his choice, and he dropped out of school to dedicate his life to the gang without hesitation. Being a greaser brought a sense of security he’d never had. They were a family. They would, and had, died for each other. Maybe then his father would see him as someone to carry the family legacy and not just another good for nothing mouth to feed. Quietly, he liked that he’d be able to keep tabs on Damon too. They were ride or die, especially now that Damon’s parents were gone and he'd been initiated as well. They hadn’t liked him much because he’d always been a troublesome kid, but they were good people. If he and Damon could figure out who’d done it, he’d happily help avenge them.

With that mindset going into his probationary period with the gang, David quickly made way for Ace; a new identity for a new man. Sure, the greasers were family, but no one got away with anything lightly, so the scrappy boy from the schoolyard quickly became a formidable fighter with a brutal reputation that spilled over the other side of the tracks. His blade was an extension of his arm, and he loved to flash it around whenever he could— during a fight, while sitting at St Elmo’s, when Cam tried to get smart with him. It gave him power, it made him invincible. If only that invincibility had extended to Sid.

Things only got worse when the eldest Claymore was killed in a brawl with a rival gang. Stabbed in the neck, no chance of being saved even if anyone had bothered to call for help. Ace refused to mourn though— there was no room for weakness in their ranks. Instead, like Damon, he sought revenge. And that was where their paths diverged. Where Damon gladly handed his scumbag uncle over to the authorities, Ace knew the cops would never care enough about a dead greaser to arrest anyone. It wasn't long after that when he ended up with blood, permanent blood, on his hands.

While Damon inherited the leadership and turned himself into some sort of entrepreneur, Ace remained loyally by his side. He liked being the muscle, he was good at it, even if he was always at odds with guys the likes of Two-Bit Maldonado. Truthfully, he didn't care that the guy was gay, but their dads went way back and he'd seen what the older Maldonado was capable of. That was one target on his back he could live without.

It wasn’t until the SoWood project had broken ground that he realised how much things had changed. His entire neighborhood was being bulldozed, all while Damon was sitting pretty with his clubs and his money and his richie wife. Other greasers had come to him, some who’d already had their homes destroyed and replaced with yoga studios or luxury apartments, others who could barely afford to live in town anymore— all of them unimpressed with Damon’s leadership, and Diego’s unfulfilled promises during a laughable stint as mayor.

His own home wasn’t much, but it got his closest friends off the streets. Storm was his girl... sometimes, and Marlo, Dion, and Polo were true ride or die greasers, each as formidable as the last and a damn sight more loyal than anyone else had proven to be. Somehow their little squad had grown sizeable enough through word of mouth that he’d become a leader of his own, their offshoot of the gang taking in those who’d been displaced and felt betrayed. It was time for things to change on their side of the tracks, no matter the cost.

DURING THE PARTY;

Ace had never been like Damon or Cam, who were both smarter than anyone gave them credit for. He didn’t have a passion he could turn into a job like Two-Bit, who was trying to get his ugly mug in the movies. He couldn’t even be a fighter in the way Scott was trying to be. That’d involve following rules, and no fight was a clean fight with Ace Claymore. All he had was the gang, and it felt like he was yet again being left behind the second something better came along. So, since Damon no longer seemed to care about enforcing his own rules, it fell to Ace to be the harbinger of bad news.

Despite the way it looked, he didn’t enjoy having to remind people of what it meant to be a greaser, of the promises they’d made, and what his father had taught him about what happened to people who broke those promises. It was disappointing, the realisation that someone wasn’t as loyal as they’d sworn to be.

“Soda, buddy,” he’d been all smiles as he’d caught Scott home alone. He, Storm, Marlo, Dion, and Polo were all walking into town for some stupid Christmas thing the richies were putting on. Seriously, who celebrated turning on the lights on a tree? The way those people could turn the weirdest things into a party...

“No point bringing our bikes out in the snow, wanna walk with us? It’s been a while, man.” It would have been more fun if they’d had their bikes, they could have taken him all the way out to Dead Man’s Quarry to teach him his lesson, especially since the way Storm had been looking at him was boiling his blood, but a quiet bridge outside of town would have to do.

“Blood in, blood out,” they reminded him of the oaths he’d taken when he’d joined the greasers, each taking turns to dish out a round until he was left in a defeated heap. He was nothing but a disgrace by that point. He’d gone soft, forgotten who he was while he was too busy trying to get under his goody-two-shoes girlfriend’s skirt-- and honestly, having seen her, Ace would have put his money on him being unsuccessful.

All he saw when he looked down at Scott beaten and bloody on the ground was someone who thought he was better than them, who’d used them until he’d decided they were trash like the rest of the town had. He had to be taught a lesson, be reminded that being a greaser wasn't something he could pick and choose to be whenever he felt like it. It was all or nothing-- and right now to them, Scott was nothing.

"I didn't wanna have to do this..." The final blow, what would be a lasting reminder, was a sickening strike of his weight down on Scott's elbow, leaving his arm gruesomely broken. What would he do now, without the greasers, and without his precious boxing? Not Ace's problem. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't want to have to go so far, he'd considered Scott a friend once, but he'd learned the hard way that he couldn't trust a Cruz as far as he could throw one.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#the lost boys #bio rp #original rp #rpg #roleplay #ace claymore #david #lewis tan #takenm

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danse-or-farkas · 5 years ago

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Arthur Maxson or Vilkas?

Both are fairly similar personality wise, but with a single diverging factor in their lives. So the choice should be based on what's different:Both are intelligent, and can be abrasive to deal with especially before earning their respect.Both were raised by and in their respective organisations, and both were orphaned at a young age and left solely to the care of that organisation. Maxson was abandoned by his families choice, and Vilkas when Jurgen was killed in battle. Both had a burden and responsibility put on their shoulders around the same age. For Maxson it was leadership, for Vilkas it was the beast blood.The key difference is loneliness. Maxson grew up alone, put on a pedestal and expected to fulfil a duty that meant he was always going to be alone and apart from his Brothers and Sisters in Steel. Vilkas never had those expectations forced on him, he was always going to be a Shield Brother amongst many, and he always had his brother fighting at his back.I have to choose Vilkas, the one who knows family and companionship, who is used to being an equal to someone rather than having to be their better. Vilkas has a support network around him from his guild, rather than an army beneath him that might turn on him if some distant ally on the opposite side of the country decides to no longer support him. Maxson also has the expectation of continuing his bloodline, which would mean any relationship with another man would be either a secret or put under great scrutiny and scorn, not even considering the rank difference and the fraternising scandal it might cause.If the situation was reversed, gaining and losing a brother each, I would probably choose differently. I think Vilkas would be less restrained and more ambitious if he was raised alone, likely vying for the Harbinger position, and Maxson perhaps a little happier and more balanced in his leadership with a brother at his side to chew him out for his worse decisions. A more aggressive Companions, and a more even handed Brotherhood that perhaps might have room for forgiving certain things, a certain blindly betrayed person, that might not have been otherwise.Third option would be setting them up with each other. I think that might work better overall.

#i accidentally wrote an essay #about hot men in power armour and werewolves

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shireness-says · 6 years ago

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Playing the Part ch. 14: What Did I Ever See In Him?

Summary: As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this chapter with you guys! It’s rough in the moment, but really sets things in motion. We’re closing in on the end, guys!

Chapter title taken from “Bye Bye Birdie”.

Thanks as ever to @snidgetsafan, the world’s best beta, who’s basically dragging me through these last couple of chapters. Thanks babe, I’ll give you new stuff eventually.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

It’s that fucking principle again - that everything falls apart just when things are going great. It’s official; Emma’s commissioning a study. Or maybe it’s just an inevitability in a more mundane way, that things can only go up or down and the downs will always be more noticeable. Whatever the case, Emma just hopes it doesn’t come in threes.

This crash feels so much harsher too because it’s much more personal, and it comes at the worst possible moment. The week had started with their Sign-Off performance, of course, and Emma had been flying high on Henry’s residual excitement over their appearance in the days immediately following. If she had hoped that her kid would let the Killian debacle slide, she’s sadly disappointed. Clearly, he’s spent too much time around Ruby and Mary Margaret growing up, as he’s determined to both interrogate and tease Emma about what this means for her love life. Smart alec.

“He’s got a cruuuush on you,” Henry singsongs, laughing uproariously as Emma’s cheeks flush. “Oh! Does that mean you do too?”

“It does not!” Emma insists, even as her blush insists otherwise. Traitor.

“Uh huh,” Henry nods, grinning deviously. Some kid she’s got.

(The best kid, always the best kid, even when he’s teasing her like this.)

“Killian is my colleague and my friend and a complete professional,” Emma lists patiently. Her tone is probably veering more towards long-suffering than patient, if she’s being honest, but it’s warranted in her opinion. “Which is, you know, why he said that in the interview.”

“Sure,” Henry replies, clearly unimpressed. Emma’s going to need to have words with Ruby, because Henry definitely did not get that side-eye from her. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

(The sass, though - he definitely got that from her.)

Know-it-all children aside, Emma’s having a good week - good weather, good mood, great shows… it seems that things are flying along, never better, practically unsinkable. Until Thursday, that is.

Thursday is the day everything goes to hell.

Ashley, the young woman who plays Kitty in their production, calls out sick, requiring an early call time for everyone to run through the show with the understudy and make sure she’s comfortable with the choreography and her handful of lines, or at least comfortable enough with them to make it through a performance. Not the way Emma wants to start her day, but it doesn’t necessarily spell disaster. They can work with that.

What’s worse, though, is getting to the theater to discover that a power surge the evening before has tripped several breakers and screwed with their lights, necessitating changing bulbs and a full check of the theater’s electrical systems. The headset system they’ve got to work with is better than most Emma’s dealt with in her time, but it’s still prone to more interference than Emma would prefer, and a short in their system won’t do Emma and Kristoff any favors. The whole thing is going to be a major stressor in the crew’s afternoon, but there’s no way around it.

Dealing with both of those situations is enough - more than enough, really, if Emma’s being honest.

However, apparently some higher power has it out for Emma, because the joy doesn’t stop there. Instead, that same Thursday, three days after the show’s Sign-Off appearance, Neal shows up in town - at Emma’s theater, no less! - because of mother-fucking course he does.

Honestly, she has no idea how Neal got into the theater in the first place - you’d think someone would have kicked him out between the stage door and the stage. Then again, her ex has always had a way of bluffing his way into places - fake it ‘til you make it and all that. He acts like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and for whatever reason, people believe him.

Emma doesn’t even notice him sauntering around the stage at first, too busy discussing what replacements they’ll need to order with Robin in the booth to pay attention to what’s going on below and leaving Kristoff to be the unfortunate messenger. The unwitting harbinger of doom, if you will.

“There’s some guy asking for you?” her usually even-keeled sound tech cuts in when a break in the conversation allows, voice betraying an uncharacteristic irritation. “Made it sound like you’d know him. I don’t know, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming.” If Emma didn’t know better, she’d almost say there was a hint of disdain in Kristoff’s tone, but that’s silly. Kristoff gets along with everyone, mostly by barely talking to anyone. He’s got that Nordic, Midwestern implacability too where Emma can never tell what he’s thinking, and especially can never tell when he’s flustered.

It’s all explained, though, when she looks through the window to see her ex impatiently checking his phone. He’s not tapping his foot yet but Emma can sense the urge from this distance. Typical - Neal always seems to believe that his time is more valuable than everyone else’s.

“Fuck,” she curses loudly. “It’s my ex. Henry’s dad,” she elaborates when Robin lifts a curious eyebrow at her outburst. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” Blood pressure no doubt shooting through the roof, she turns on her heel and storms out of the booth to confront Neal and find out why the hell he’s here.

By the time she makes it down to the orchestra level, Neal’s officially progressed to foot-tapping stage, glancing around impatiently. Like he’s the one being inconvenienced here.

“What do you want, Neal?” she demands as soon as she gets close enough. There’s a small amount of pleasure to be taken in watching Neal jerk his head up in response and then down again rapidly to meet Emma’s eyes where she stands in the audience, knowing that it will likely result in a nasty knot in his neck from all the drastic movements. Only a small amount, though.

“Well hello to you too, Ems,” he replies easily, like all of this is some light-hearted social call instead of him barging into her place of employment.

“I’m not kidding around, Neal. What the hell are you doing here?” She doesn’t have time for this, but if she has to deal with it, she’s cutting straight to the point and skipping past the useless pleasantries.

“Well I was in town for a meeting and thought I’d drop by,” he replies.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Neal reacts, playing up his faux offense. It’s all an act, Emma knows; she doesn’t even need a superpower to see that.

“Bullshit. You have never once in your life just ‘dropped by’, and you think theatre is a frivolous waste of time.”

“Can’t a man come see his son, maybe take him to dinner?” he tries instead, changing tactics.

“You certainly can, but it’s 3pm, Neal. Henry won’t be by after school for another hour. And, again, you have never ‘dropped by’ for a surprise visit just because you were in town for some meeting. In fact, you usually have to cancel on dinner with Henry when your meetings run over.”

“Oh c’mon Ems, that’s not fair,” Neal complains, but who the fuck cares what he has to say on the subject? Emma is about to tell him as such when Scarlet interrupts with better timing than she would have credited him with, though his tone is too annoyed to actually write off the interruption as being for her benefit.

“Oi, not that this isn’t fascinating, but would you clear the bleedin’ stage? I’ve been trying to bring this light bar in for the past five minutes but some people,” he glares pointedly at Neal, “won’t get out of the way.”

The nuisance himself looks like he’s about to bite back, but Emma cuts in before he gets the chance. “You gotta move, Neal, I don’t care where. Go hang out backstage or in the house or something. I��ve gotta take care of some stuff, I can’t keep an eye on you.” If she’s secretly hoping he gets whacked in the head with the light bar, well, that’s her business, and entirely understandable to boot.

“We need to talk, Emma,” he insists, apparently finally cutting to his point.

“Yeah, well, I need to do my job. You showed up at a bad time, and I’ve got people waiting on me. We’ll talk later.” She hopes her voice is firm enough - ideally, the one she uses to keep everyone in line when everything is going to shit - but ultimately, it doesn’t much matter as she whirls around and stalks back to the booth.

She’s got a terrible feeling she knows exactly what this is about. It seems like an awfully big coincidence that Neal just happens to unexpectedly show up at her theater, a place he’s never showed interest in, only a couple days after a male coworker said nice things about her on national television. Whatever the case, she so doesn’t have time to deal with it now.

Neal is just going to have to wait.

———

Word travels fast throughout the ranks, and the shocking news that their beloved stage manager’s ex-boyfriend and father to Henry has unexpectedly showed up on their stage is no exception. Killian hears it from Belle, who was told by Scarlet, who relates as much of the situation as he knows with plenty of added commentary about how the man’s a nuisance and possibly an imbecile and honestly, who the bloody hell doesn’t hear a man hollering about a heavy bleedin’ light bar about to be flown in? Fuckin’ idiots, that’s who, if you ask a very irritated Will Scarlet. And then somewhere along the line David Nolan catches wind of it and tells Mary Margaret, and when you tell Mary Margaret anything, suddenly the entire cast knows. It’s just a fact of their little cohort.

Now, Killian considers himself to be an open minded man, a tolerant man, a man who does not make decisions about people before he knows them. Liam raised him to be kind and polite and to listen to people and not make premature judgements, and usually, Killian does his best to live up to that example.

But, God help him, he Does Not Like Emma’s ex.

(Well, part of that might have been related to the holiday party incident and not their encounter today, but his point still stands)

He’s prepared to swear that even were Neal not the former lover of the woman he’s slowly becoming devoted to, he still wouldn’t like the man. There’s something about the other’s man attitude – that he can do what he pleases, and everyone else’s opinion be damned. Killian hates it.

Currently, “whatever he pleases” is wandering around backstage semi-aimlessly, sticking his nose into corners and getting underfoot and generally driving everyone slowly mad.

“Can I help you, mate?” Killian asks in a perfectly civil tone - or at least what he thinks is a perfectly civil tone - when he runs down to grab a prop only to find the other man peeking into thankfully empty dressing rooms.

“Nope, just looking around,” the ex had replied about as absently as humanly possible, not bothering to even make more than glancing eye contact.

Alright then.

The only marginally redeeming factor of that man is how purely delighted Henry is to see him when the lad comes by after school. Killian may be many things - a very judgemental and petty man at the moment, for one - but he’s not a monster, and he’s willing to put up with a lot if it makes that wonderful boy happy. Still. Doesn’t mean he has to become best friends with the man, or even be happy about his presence. In fact, Killian thinks he’ll keep an eye out from a short distance, just to make sure the lad stays happy; he doesn’t quite trust the other man’s motives here, even if he is Henry’s father.

“Dad!” Henry exclaims as soon as he spots the man in question, a wide and brilliant smile stretching his cheeks as his eyes visibly light up. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” Just as quickly though, his features shift to confusion. “I didn’t miss a call, did I?”

“Oh no, of course not, buddy,” Neal reassures. “I just thought I’d surprise you.”

Though this appearance could certainly be described as a surprise very easily, Killian still thinks that’s not the whole story. Henry is less fazed though, or at least willing to take the excuse at face value in his excitement over his dad’s presence.

“You’ve got to come meet everyone!” Henry exclaims, practically bouncing on his feet as he tugs Neal over towards Killian.

Lord help me, Killian can’t help but think, this will be fun. If the other man’s face is anything to go by, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Killian!” Henry calls, managing to pull an almost genuine smile out of him. “You’ll never guess who’s here! This is my dad!”

“Aye, we met briefly earlier,” Killian replies, thinking of their dressing room encounter (if it can even really be called that). In the name of civility, he sticks a hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr…?” Technically, he already knows the other man’s name, but it feels rude to admit that the whole production knows who he is through the gossip train.

“Cassidy. Neal Cassidy,” he supplies with a smile that looks strained at best, pointedly not shaking the offered hand. “So, you’re the actor or whatever?”

“Aye, that’s me,” Killian agrees, trying hard not to be put out. “I play the male lead in this show, Mr. Darcy.”

“So you and Ems… work together a lot, then?”

So that’s what this is about. Killian almost feels stupid for not putting it together earlier, but it’s hard to miss the strategic emphasis in that sentence that suggests Neal is certain something more is happening. Self-important arse.

“Swan works closely with the entire cast, crew, and production team,” he replies carefully. “She’s perhaps the best stage manager I’ve ever seen, and very dedicated to the job at hand. We’re incredibly lucky to have her steering our little ship.”

“Sure.” Neal is obviously skeptical, if his posture and crossed arms are anything to go by. It takes everything Killian has not to roll his eyes at the bastard’s ridiculous posturing. Even Henry is picking up on the tension, looking back and forth between the two men with that same furrowed brow Emma gets when faced with a problem she’s trying to dissect.

“And I bet that’s all it is. Just a professional relationship,” Neal intones, continuing his interrogation. Killian truly questions the man’s judgement; to him, at least, this seems like an inappropriate avenue to be walking down with Henry right there, but then again, he may be biased as the target of the questioning.

“I believe that’s what I already said,” Killian replies. He’s tried to keep civil this whole time, but he can’t help the irritation from creeping into his tone. “We’re colleagues who interact on friendly but professional terms.” Is there a problem with that? the argumentative side of Killian is itching to demand, but he refrains for Henry’s sake

“Maybe we should go meet other people,” Henry blessedly cuts in before anything comes to blows or Killian says something he regrets (strangely enough, Neal doesn’t seem to have the same qualms that he does). “I’ll see you later, Killian!” he calls back over his shoulder as he practically drags his father away by the arm.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Killian hears Henry chastise from around the corner; he somehow doubts that the lad intended his voice to carry so far. Serves the man right, to be scolded by his own son, though Killian would be shocked if Neal suddenly came to regret his actions. A man that comes into town specifically to get on his ex for mostly platonic words said on a television program doesn’t seem the type to suddenly see how ridiculous his actions are.

He knows that Emma is the last person to want any pity, but she has Killian’s all the same. The man seems to be an insufferable prick, or is at least intent on acting like one; as bad as Killian’s interaction with Neal was, he’d be willing to bet that Emma’s in for something even more infuriating. He sure hopes that this dickery is a recent development, because at the moment, he has no idea what Emma ever saw in that man.

It’s none of Killian’s business, not really, but he can’t help but feel angry on Emma’s behalf that she’ll have to deal with whatever bullshit that bastard chooses to spew at her. Whatever interrogation he just had to suffer, she’ll undoubtedly have to deal with even worse. The more he thinks about it, the more frustrated he gets, until there’s nothing else to do about the matter - he calls Liam. It was either that or go hunt down Neal to ask a bunch of uncalled-for questions in a petty form of revenge.

“Make it quick, brother,” Liam immediately says when he answers, “the filming break is ending in seven minutes.”

“Emma’s ex is the most insufferable man alive,” Killian declares, launching right in.

“Good to know. And how exactly do you know this?” Liam asks in return.

“The arse showed up at the theater today - which was not expected, let me tell you, Henry was shocked to see his father. He obviously has never set foot in a theater, looking around everywhere and getting underfoot. And from everything I hear from Henry, he doesn’t exactly see his dad often, no other spontaneous visits like he was trying to claim this is. And this only a few days after that blasted interview aired! What a wild coincidence!” Killian says sarcastically. “So here he is, showing up to ask me a bunch of questions about whether Emma and I are really just colleagues. Funny, that.”

“Sounds frustrating,” Liam replies, making all the right noises even if he’s a little lost as to what’s going on.

“God, he’s such a pretentious arse. Waltzing right on in here like he gets a say in Swan’s work life. Or her personal life. Hell, the man’s barely around enough to earn the right to an opinion in Henry’s life. Try telling him that, though.”

“Speaking of which, do you plan on telling Emma all this?” Liam poses a good question, but Killian’s a bit conflicted on how to answer.

“I don’t know. She’ll be dealing with enough from him, you know? Not to mention everything else that’s going on around here - it’s a rough tech day to boot, as if she needs more on her plate. I don’t want to add any more stress. But at the same time… it feels deceptive, not telling her? Like I’m not supplying her with all the pieces of a problem.”

Liam hums. “So what are you going to do then?”

“I don’t know,” Killian whines back. “I’m just frustrated.”

“And that’s completely understandable,” Liam soothes. “Someone’s showed up to make trouble for a friend - someone you care for. It makes sense that you’d be angry on her behalf.”

“But what do I do, Liam?” he demands.

“Well, how about this for a compromise: if you see her before he leaves, you keep mum so as not to create more stress or be the cause of any conflict, but if you next see her afterwards, you do mention it. I’m quite firmly on the side of letting her know eventually, just so she can take whatever steps need taking to keep this kind of thing from happening again,” Liam suggests.

“I think I can manage that.” Venting to Liam hasn’t truly solved any problems, but he still feels better, like a dark cloud has been lifted from over his head. “Thanks, Liam. I know you’re busy, but I needed that. I’ll let you go, but really, thank you for being a listening ear.”

“Aye, I’ve got to be getting back,” Liam agrees. “Anytime though, Kil, I’m always here to listen. Hang in there - you and your lady both. Love you, little brother.” And before Killian can respond, even with a correction, the call disconnects.

Huffing a sigh, Killian attempts to release some of the remaining tension, before finally returning his attention to… whatever he came down here for in the first place. Thanks to certain unpleasant visitors, he’s having trouble remembering.

Really, damn the man and all the chaos he’s causing in his wake.

———

There’d been half a hope in the back of Emma’s mind that maybe she’d wrap up everything that needed immediately taking care of before Neal got bored and wandered back again, if only to avoid her ex pulling that “how dare you inconvenience me, my time is more valuable than yours” act again, charming though it is. Sadly, the universe is not on her side in that wish, and Neal and Henry are already waiting at the front, the former already reprising his impatient scanning from earlier as Henry happily chatters away about God knows what.

“Does she always leave you waiting like this?” Emma hears Neal ask, his voice carrying despite the distance.

Henry shrugs nonchalantly in response. “I go talk to everyone. Sometimes Mom lets me help out around here too.”

“Oh, so she’s putting you to work?” Neal’s voice is scandalized - that’s the only word for it. Now that she’s almost to where the two stand, she can see the shock on his face too.

Emma will stand for a lot of things from Neal, but that’s an implication too far. “Yes, I make him lug fifty pound fly weights all over the place. Builds character,” she replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Neal rolls his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Em, you know I wasn’t suggesting that —” he tries to protest, but Emma cuts him off.

“Yeah, you kinda were. Henry, go get your stuff so you and your dad can get something to eat.” Henry scampers off at her suggestion, seemingly all too glad to escape the tension boiling between his parents, a tension that’s about to burst into something worse.

“C’mon, what was that about, Emma?” Neal whines, but Emma’s having none of it.

“Cut the crap, Neal. You wanted to talk, so talk. Starting with the real reason you’re here.”

“Well,” he states, “I saw the Sign-Off interview Monday night.”

Emma groans. She should have seen this coming, but that doesn’t make it any less stupid. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m serious! I’m laying in bed watching some… stuck-up actor talk about how dedicated you are to the show —”

“And what, you took that as code for ‘child neglect’? Because someone I work with said I’m good at my job?”

Neal’s silence is telling.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you really thought that, didn’t you?” Emma manages to spit out. “Jesus Christ, Neal.”

“Look, I just know what I saw, ok?” he tries to defend as Emma rolls her eyes. “Don’t I have the right to come make sure you’re not neglecting my son, actually taking care of him instead of spending all your time at work or with some… some pretty boy?”

“That is fucking rich coming from you, Neal. Always so busy with your fancy job and your fancy house and your pretty little wife that you can’t even remember to call your son half the time. Fucking rich. I am doing everything I can to give that kid the best life,” she hisses, stabbing a finger into his chest, “and that’s a hell of a lot more than you’ve done. I’m the one that helps him with his homework, and takes care of him when he’s sick, and listens to all his worries. I’m the one who knows the names of all his friends and which takeout places are his favorite and how to best comfort him when he’s sad. Meanwhile, you couldn’t even be bothered to admit he was yours for five fucking years!” She’s practically shouting by the end, and only hopes Henry is too far away to hear. Neal just stands there glowering as Emma picks up steam. At least he seems to have picked up on the fact that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

“And for the record?” she finishes, trying to lower the volume of her voice and probably failing. “I’m not dating Jones, or anyone else. But even if I was, that would be none of your goddamn business. Just like your marriage is none of mine.” Neal finally opens up his mouth to speak, but Emma throws up a hand to stop him before he even starts. “No. We’re done here. You and Henry can leave out the stage door. Have him home by 8, it’s a school night and he has homework.” Emma’s shaking with rage by the end of her tirade, but stands her ground, and with a final huff, her ex stalks off to find their son. Good riddance.

As Neal makes his disgraced departure, still shooting dirty looks over his shoulder, Emma finally relaxes, practically collapsing in on herself. Yes, there are still problems to come in her day, but those are normal problems, the kind that she knows to account for when going to work in the morning. Neal’s presence was a different kind of stressor, one she can’t prepare for, and when shoved at her on top of her work-related stress, it sets a tension into her shoulders that’s unmatched by anything else. Honestly, based off the bullshit Neal was tossing her way, you would have thought Killian has said she was making Henry work sixty hour weeks, not that she was good at her job. For fuck’s sake.

Dropping her head back, Emma takes a moment just to re-center herself before straightening again to return to the booth, only to turn around to spot Robin with a less than pleased look on his face. In fact, she’d go far as to say that she’s never seen him look so furious. Abruptly, Emma’s stomach plummets. God, he must have seen or heard the confrontation with Neal; in the heat of it all, they probably weren’t as quiet as quiet as they should have been. It wasn’t fair of Emma to bring that kind of drama into their workplace, and Robin has every right to be angry about it, but still, it feels like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach to see that look directed at her.

Quickly, she hurries to meet her colleague at the back of the aisle where he stands, stumbling over apologies the whole while. “Robin, I’m so sorry, you should never have heard - it won’t happen again -” she tries to tell him, but Robin throws up a hand to halt her words in their tracks.

“Stop,” he tells Emma. “Just… stop.” Oh god, he must be really mad. All Emma wants to do is apologize profusely and try to make this right, but she can’t do that if he’s not receptive to hearing it. The stone grows heavier and heavier in her stomach.

Robin exhales a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down, and Emma braces herself for whatever he’s about to say. He must see or sense that somehow - probably a benefit of spending hours together every day in a space that always seems too small and crowded - because some of the anger recedes from his face, a small amount of tension easing from his frame as he reaches to grasp Emma by the shoulders.

“I’m not mad at you,” he tells her in a voice that’s somehow simultaneously both firm and gentle. Emma imagines it’s the same voice he uses with Roland from time to time. If not, he should - it’s effective.

“You’re not?” she replies in a voice that’s smaller than she’d prefer. Oh well; Robin won’t judge her for that.

“Gods above, no. I’m mad, yes, but not at you,” he explains solemnly, “Emma, darling, please believe me when I tell you this: no one could watch the display that absolute bastard was making of himself and be mad at you. None of this is on you. All of my anger is on your behalf, that he had the very nerve to stand there and say such things.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Emma mumbles. Still, her cheeks flush at the gesture and the care behind those words.

Robin just shrugs. “Maybe I don’t have to, but I’m going to anyways. You’re my friend, Emma,” he explains, “and I see what you do every day. I know exactly how much you give this job, and I know you give Henry even more, as much as a human being can. It’s… preposterous, to even suggest the two are mutually exclusive. Look, I know our situations aren’t exactly the same,” he prefaces, “but I know how easy it is to lose a lot of yourself in being a parent, just by virtue of trying to ensure that your kid has everything. You may not be dating Jones, or anyone else, but so what if you were? You’re allowed to try and find that kind of happiness for yourself, on top of the happiness you get from Henry. The fact that Neal - ” he spits out the name with unexpected derision - “thinks that he gets a say in that, just because he’s Henry’s father, is laughable. Absurd. Especially since he’s one step above an absentee parent.”

Emma can’t help but feel a rush of platonic affection at his words, though she’s mortified to feel those feelings welling into tears of relief and gratitude. It’s true that Mary Margaret and Ruby and Elsa have been agreeing with her about how much of an ass Neal is for years, but they’re practically family; there’s always kind of been that feeling that they have to say that because of their long and close connection to Emma. There’s something meaningful and vindicating about hearing Robin, a coworker of significantly less acquaintance, say the same thing - that her ex is a jerk who has no right to have any opinions about her personal life.

Robin doesn’t know that they’re good tears, however, and his leftover fury quickly morph into a confused concern. “Are you crying?” he asks, not waiting for an explanation. “Oh, please, Emma, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to upset you — ”

“It’s alright, Robin,” Emma cuts in with a teary chuckle. “It just means a lot to hear you say that. Thank you.”

“Ah, well, we’ve got to stick together, don’t we?” Robin smiles. “Single parents banding together and all that. Though, for the record, every one of us in here is rooting for you, not just me. Kristoff is as mad as I’ve ever seen him, and I thought Scarlet was about to bash his nose in.”

“Yeah, well, Scarlet just wanted the stage cleared so he could get his work done. Any opportunity to brain Neal with the light bar was just an added bonus,” Emma replies, snorting less than gracefully, happy to see a path out of the emotional bog she’d inadvertently waded into.

“You’re not wrong there,” Robin admits, breaking into his own bout of laughter. At the end of it, the mood is lighter for both of them, and while Emma is still irritated with her stupid-ass ex - a permanent thing, really, even if it’s a bit more than usual at the moment - the blind panic their argument had spawned about what everyone else is going to think of her has abated, thank god.

“Hang in there, darling,” Robin concludes with a collegial pat to her back. “We’re all here for you if you need to vent or plot a murder. Though, I should tell you,” he continues more seriously, “rumor has it that Neal was giving Killian the third degree earlier.”

“Of course he was,” Emma groans, dropping her head back melodramatically before setting her shoulders once again. “Sounds about par for the course today.”

Robin chuckles. “Nothing you can’t handle, o fearsome leader,” he teases. “Now go be a badass, prove him wrong.”

And you know what? Emma’s going to do just that. After one last stop, that is.

———

Killian doesn’t expect Emma to show up in the doorway of his dressing room as he runs through his pre-show prep - in fact, for one irritated moment, he’s convinced it’s Cassidy come back to grill him some more.

“You scared me there,” he comments, tossing a grin towards where Emma leans against the door frame. “I thought you were our charming visitor.”

Emma winces at the words. “Yeah, about that…”

“Oh god, he’s not coming back, is he?” Killian groans. It would be just his luck if the man was standing right behind Swan, but at this point, they’re already on poor enough terms that he’s willing to risk it. It’s not like things can disintegrate any further.

Thankfully, Swan emphatically shakes her head to that. “No, no, he and Henry are off getting dinner somewhere. But I did hear that you guys had the pleasure of meeting.”

Belatedly, Killian realizes that as awful as he thinks Emma’s ex is, she maybe doesn’t want to hear that from others. She’s the one who has to deal with him for the foreseeable future; his conversation with Liam aside, it seems bad form to complain about the man to Emma’s face and potentially make her feel worse, both about the prospect of dealing with Neal and about the fact that he’s here in the first place. The latter is most certainly not her fault.

“Yes, he’s, uh… it was interesting, meeting the man,” Killian finally says, as diplomatically as he can manage.

Swan, thank God, is having none of that however. “Oh please. He’s an ass. A real piece of work. No use beating around the bush, it’s not going to hurt my feelings or anything. I’ve got thicker skin than he does.”

“Ah, well, as long as you said it first,” he laughs. Suddenly, he remembers an earlier part of their conversation - the bit about how she heard Neal and he had talked - and something clicks. “Wait, you’re not here to apologize for his utter lack of manners, are you Swan?”

Her face contorts into a sheepish smile. “Maybe?”

“Well save your breath, love,” Killian insists. “There’s no need. His actions and his words are in no way your fault. You know that, right?” It feels crucial that she knows that.

“Yeah, Robin told me pretty much the same thing,” she replies. “Still. I feel bad that you had to deal with him at all.”

“Put it out of you mind, love, I beg you. I’ll admit that he wasn’t a particularly pleasant part of my day, but I’ll put him out of my mind soon enough. He’ll be a footnote, at best. Don’t worry yourself about it, please.”

“I mean, if you’re sure…” she trails off uncertainly, that guilty look still darkening her face.

“I insist,” he says with finality. He can still see Emma’s doubts lingering though, so he quickly shifts to teasing. “I do have to ask, though,” he says, noting the trace of caution that appears in the crease between her brows, “what did you ever see in him?”

At his teasing smile, Emma releases the tension she’s holding again, going so far as to roll her eyes at the question, and they’re able to resume their banter again, continuing on as if Neal and his nonsense never happened.

(His line that evening about Collins being a pompous, prattling fool seems a little more pointed than it ever has before, but the audience doesn’t need to know that. Killian is confident that Emma hears it all the same.)

If you guys liked this chapter, please please please reblog (or even just like!) it. I’m a desperate woman who’s not about pleading. Thanks for reading!

#cs ff #captain swan #my writing #Playing the Part #What Did I Ever See In Him?#stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #and a Lil' Bitch

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