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aria-chicken-flugget · 6 years ago

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Yuunoa One-Shot Prompt! New Family AU!

Relationships: Yuuichirou Hyakuya/Shinoa Hiragi

Characters: Yuuichirou Hyakuya, Shinoa Hiragi, (side) Mikela Hyakuya, (side) Guren Ichinose, (side) Yayoi Endo

Rated: General Audiences (ao3) (Mild sexual references)

Summary: Yuu sees his new born twins and contemplates how lucky he is.

For @34716156hnsy :) <3

The silver light of the moon filtered through the hospital window, blanching the crisp sheets and the ashen lilac tufts of hair that hung over Shinoa's face. Yuu allowed himself to watch her peaceful slumber a moment longer whilst idly stroking her forearm. He smiled before rising as quietly as he could muster, save for the small hiss that his cracking joints forced him to release. He left the small room stiffly, rubbing he nape of his neck. Though he could feel himself forcing his eye lids to peel open with each blink, nothing made him feel more alive than what he was about to do.

"Can I see them again?"

He flattened his palms against the desk where there was only one nurse. The dimly lit corridors merely awake with a faint monitor bleeping here and there. Nurse Yayoi quirked her hot pink brow and eyed him from over her glasses with a knowing smile,

"Hyakuya, isn't it?"

Yuu nodded enthusiastically despite his all but two hour and thirteen-minute sleep so far that night. Yayoi smiled almost to herself when realising who she was dealing with. This man wasn't going to take no for an answer. She hated denying new parents anything to do with their children. She rose from behind the desk,

"Right this way."

As she led him towards the ward. His palms began to sweat and his heart raced as he ran a hand through his jet-black mop of hair that hadn't tamed his whole life. He briefly wondered if maybe one of them might have hair like that too, one day. The thought made him beam uncontrollably.

"Here they are."

The nurse with the fuchsia hair lilted quietly. Yuu found himself taking fastidious steps towards the glass, looking through to see all the new borns in the nursery. His palms rested against the glass in a childish excitement as his eyes darted around to find them. Yayoi tried to suppress her small giggle with her hand at his demeanour. She shouldn't do this, but she just couldn't help but want to indulge this new parent's elation. She allowed a bright smile,

"Would you like to go inside?"

His bright emerald orbs flashed to her with a sharp breath and before he knew it, she was allowing him inside the nursery to see them. His children. Our babies... We're parents he thought, bursting with joy. His breath hitched, eliciting an inaudible laugh as Nurse Yayoi helped gently scoop up their first born. Bundled in a soft, white blanket and knitted hat. His eyes were glistening as she helped place the new born in his arms, he gasped the moment he was holding her. His first born, a daughter. We still need to think of a name he mused internally before eyeing the nurse hopefully. She was already holding his second born, his son, whom they also hadn't named as of yet. The names they'd thought of during Shinoa's pregnancy just didn't quite fit who their babies have been born to be…

"I happen to think Guren is a great name. Strong and -"

"Oh please, there's no need to curse the poor child with that name."

Mika interrupted, smirking into his coffee mug as everyone laughed. Guren shrugged with a smirk,

"I'm just saying the kid'll have it good with a name like that."

Whilst he leant back into the sofa chair he'd sat on, in Yuu and Shinoa's new home.

"And what if they’re both born as girls?"

Mika countered from his stool, making Yuu chuckle, his hand caressing Shinoa's back between her shoulder blades to ease some strain. After a light moment, Shinoa held her lower back as she moved to sit down on the sofa chair next to Guren's with gritted teeth. Her swollen belly protruded so far out that Yuu would have had several panic attacks if he didn't know that they were expecting twins. Yuu rushed over to her to hold her arm as she tried to sit and she swatted him away playfully,

"I'm fine, Yuu, really - you already did your part by getting them here in the first place."

Slightly through gritted teeth as she tried sitting as comfortably as was plausible, Yuu offered a nervous chuckle as he flushed whilst Mika and Guren barely suppressed their laughter. Shinoa allowed a devilish smirk, she adored how even after six years together he was still so easy to tease about their sex life. He's always been very private, whereas she was utterly shameless. The thought made her giggle lightly before her expression changed. She started ignoring the absent chatter of the others whilst she absorbed what had just happened. Her palms shot to cradle her swollen belly as she flashed her doe, brown eyes to her husband,

"Yuu!"

His brows furrowed, immediately striding toward her again as he realised before she'd even said anything,

"My water broke."

Guren had driven them to the hospital and nineteen hours later, here they were. Nurse Yayoi had helped him hold his son as well. Yuu's breath faltered as his son was also in his arms, both babies nestled into his chest, cradling them in an arm each. He couldn't stop looking at them.

"You're so beautiful."

He choked a whisper, another inaudible laugh followed before he stated fervently,

"Oh I wish I could hold you all night."

As he absorbed each feature like a sponge, branding them to his memory. Wanting to remember every single thing about them on such a special day. How their tiny features were still so red, the sweet little nub that was their noses, how their skin was softer than silk. It felt like he was holding them for mere minuets when the nurse stated,

"I'm afraid we'll have to leave now."

His eyes reluctantly ripped away from them to meet her gaze with glistening eyes,

"Can I have five more minutes? Please?"

He begged and she bit her lip, eyes darting around a moment before she adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose, stating,

"I just need to grab something, you can hold them until I'm back."

Before leaving with a small smile, to which he reciprocated gratefully,

"Thank you."

He whispered back as she left before he faced his beautiful, sleeping children with a smile,

"I heard moments like this are few and far between, that you little guys don’t sleep much – or at least when we want you to. I guess you guys won't be letting me and your mom get any sleep for a while, huh?"

He chuckled to himself lightly as he cradled them closer to his chest as gently as he could. He shook his head with an internal laugh as he knew where his wife's thoughts would have been directed at his comment on them not being able to sleep as much, there were several things they’d be doing less of. His heart stopped along with his breathing when he could have sworn that he saw his son smile in his sleep.

"Are you smiling?"

He cooed quietly, careful not to wake them. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he smiled, trying to suppress a laugh as his daughter appeared more agitated in her sleep. A tear rolled down his cheek as he claimed in a fervent whisper,

"I can't wait to get to know you."

As his vow to always protect them, love them with all of his heart. The nurse had returned and so he breathed a ragged breath, having to be parted from them again. Not for much longer though, he argued as he swallowed his reluctance and allowed the nurse to help him gently place them back for now. Yuu was completely in the clouds, thinking of his new family. He couldn't get over just how God damn lucky he was. He thanked the nurse that gave him such allowances as he snuck back into the room where Shinoa was sleeping, as the term 'visiting hours' didn't apply to Yuuichirou Hyakuya, apparently. He was just holding onto the arms of the chair he'd been resting on to lower himself onto again when he heard the faint call,

"Yuu?"

He glanced up with his wide and bright green eyes to see his wife wearing a lazy smile. He automatically smiled with her as he thought how could she still look so goddamn beautiful after everything she's been through today? Well... Yesterday now, technically. She giggled softly at his racing thoughts and he moved his chair closer to the bed before sitting, taking her soft hand into the both of his,

"I'm sorry I woke you."

Before planting a chaste kiss upon her fingertips, caressing her small hand in his. She was notably weakened still, anaesthetic or not she gave birth not once but twice in one day. Her smile brightened as she said lowly,

"You didn't. I'm glad you're still here."

Their eyes didn't break contact and he brought her fingertips to his mouth again, kissing them once more as he claimed,

"I'm so proud of you."

Her heart still swelled at his words with a small, sharp intake of breath. After all this time, he always knew how to make her speechless and weak at the knees, making her feel like they were teenagers again. Her thoughts drifted to how he has been so stubbornly by her side that he's even refused to leave now, when some fathers don't want anything to do with their children. She tried interlocking her fingers with one of his hands as her eyes glistened with just how grateful she was, he used his spare hand to gently brush her stray strands of lilac hair from her face with expert care. They stayed that way for a while, his fingertips traced her features as delicately as a moth’s wing, tears pricked in his eyes once more.

"Don't cry, Yuu."

Shinoa implored in the silence, tears threatening to cloud her vision now also and he smiled, meeting her gaze as his fingertips stopped at her cheekbone, he choked,

"You've given me everything I could have ever wanted."

He breathed a laugh as she beamed, a tear escaping her. Before Shinoa, he was lucky enough to have Mika and Guren as his adoptive family, but there was always something missing. He always wanted one of his own. Shinoa was much the same, having met Yuu shortly after being disowned by her so-called family. Now they have their new family. He rose from his seat and planted a tender kiss upon her forehead. He didn't seem to mind the sheen of sweat that would usually threaten such a moment. He hovered over her as she whispered with a smile,

"I love you. So much."

Making him smile in return,

"Well that's good, it's a little late for you to back out."

He teased as he brushed her hair behind her ear and she giggled softly, tracing her small hands up his strong arms,

"Divorce exists, you know."

"Is that a threat, Shinoa Hyakuya?"

He lilted with near seduction in his tone and she bit her lip to suppress her giggle before enveloping his neck with her arms to embrace him.

"You're so stupid, Yuu."

She teased in his ear and he chuckled a husky laugh before peeling himself away enough to see her face,

"I love you, too."

Making her smile again before he planted a chaste kiss on her lips. After spending the night at the edge of her bed in that crappy hospital chair, Yuu couldn't wait to go home and sleep. Guren had come to pick them up with Mika, claiming they would be the better Godparent over the other respectively. Shinoa was looking much better, some colour had returned to her cheeks. The two couldn't help but beam as they got to see their children, their beautiful twins, and take them home for the first time.

NOTES:

I hope this was the sort of thing you were after! :) <3

I literally wound up feeling so happy writing this like Yuu as a happy father just makes me feel so happy!! :D anyways, i hope you like it too Yuunoa shippers! :D

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #Yuunoa #fanfiction #one shot #one shot request #prompt #au #Yuu #shinoa hīragi #Fluff #LOTS OF FLUFF OMG #light angst #new borns AU

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thebestdressedrebelinhistory · 6 years ago

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hicsqueak 12: things you said when you thought i was asleep

for @roguebeachcomber

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

“She’s okay, all things considered. As okay as she can be, in any event.”

They were the first words Hecate heard when she woke up, groggy and disoriented in Pippa’s bed. Pippa’s voice was hushed, but tense, even from out in her sitting room. She clearly thought Hecate was still asleep, was clearly trying to keep the noise to a minimum for her sake.

Hecate wondered, for a moment, who she was talking to. Who would mirror Pippa so late at night, and for what purpose. She considered going to check, to make sure everything was okay. The last thing she remembered was grudgingly allowing herself to be led to Pippa’s bed, with firm instructions to get some rest, you look a fright; we’ll talk about this after . It was with some chagrin and no small amount of frustration, that Hecate realized Pippa must have tucked her into bed.

Until the voice on the other end of the mirror came through, and Hecate froze halfway through swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She knew it was Ada from the all-too-familiar sigh, before she spoke. “I’m relieved to hear that. She was quite distressed when she left this evening.”

“And why wouldn’t she be? Finding out, months after the fact, that not only did her students dose her with a personality changing potion, but there was apparently a staff-wide conspiracy to keep it a secret from her, cannot possibly have been pleasant.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Miss Pentangle--”

Pippa’s voice was hard when she interrupted, sharp in a way that it rarely was. Angrier than Hecate had heard in years. “Miss Cackle, I in no way wish to overstep my bounds--”

“I have found that those words are rarely the precursor to anything else.” Ada’s voice was mild, but Hecate immediately heard the undercurrent of hardness that matched Pippa’s own.

“Perhaps that may be,” Pippa pressed, growing imperious with a self-righteousness that Hecate was entirely too familiar with. “But I feel it would be remiss of me not to voice my concerns over the fact that some of your students intentionally drugged a member of your staff, and faced no consequences whatsoever for doing so.”

“The students in question understand the severity of their actions,” Ada said sharply. “Though I hardly see as how it is in any way your place to bring into question my school’s disciplinary practices.”

The silence that hung thick in the air was more concerning than anything Pippa might have said on impulse. Hecate could almost hear Pippa counting to ten in her head, pushing her temper down as far as it would go. As far as her pride would let it.

“To be clear,” Pippa said, finally, “you are saying that you feel the consequences meted out, nonexistent as they were, are appropriate given the… given the damage they caused?”

Hecate felt the back of her neck prickle at that. She was profoundly uncomfortable with being the topic of this conversation. With the fact that this conversation was taking place between her employer and closest friend, and… whatever she and Pippa were to one another. With the fact that people were, once again, discussing the manner in which her own students had violated her. The fact that her colleagues had actively worked to keep her from knowing.

With the fact that Pippa felt compelled to fight this battle on her behalf.

But then, Hecate had decided not to fight it herself. Had instead made up the tersest, quickest excuse she could, and left the school as quickly as possible. Had run away from problems that felt larger than she could deal with. As she always had.

“The chances were excellent that she never would have remembered,” Ada said, quietly. Hecate felt her stomach give a sickening lurch. “Personality potions almost always leave a permanent mental block that--”

Pippa’s voice rose, fury brushing at the edges. “And that makes it better? That you and your staff willingly kept something of this gravity from her? Believing that she would never remember? That it would be a secret between yourselves and every student in your school?”

It wasn’t that Pippa’s anger came as a surprise, necessarily. She had been equally outraged when Hecate had told her, had nearly flown to Cackle’s herself to tell Ada off. It had only been at Hecate’s behest -- which had been closer to pleading than Hecate cared to admit -- that Pippa had relented, wrapping Hecate instead in a furious hug and whispering I am so, so sorry over and over until Hecate thought the words might just be imprinted on her soul.

Hecate suspected that Pippa had not been the one to initiate this interaction. She doubted that Pippa would go behind her back. She had always been far too straightforward, far too open and honest for that. And if nothing else, Pippa would know how personal a betrayal Hecate would find it if she did.

Which meant that Ada had called to inquire about her well-being.

The words too little, too late sat heavily in the back of Hecate’s mind, cold and bitter. For years, she had considered Ada her closest, most trusted friend. As much as it stung, the knowledge that her students hated her enough to try and use magic to fundamentally change who she was as a person wasn’t what had truly hurt. It was the fact that Ada -- and the rest of her colleagues -- had known and not felt that she had the right to know. That they were seemingly content to keep this a secret from her for… how long?

“How,” Pippa continued, dangerously, “can you possibly call yourself her friend, if you ever thought that this wouldn’t be a violation of the greatest order to Hecate?”

There was a moment of silence so long, Hecate almost thought that someone had ended the call in anger. But then, Ada’s voice came through, hesitant and uncertain and lacking the defensive edge Hecate had heard before. “I had to take into consideration that the girls in question were first year students. That they are children, who had little concept of--”

“Or, you didn’t want to expel Ursula Hallow’s daughter while she was out for your blood.”

Pippa was treading dangerously close to crossing a line, Hecate knew. But the thought had occurred to her; had, in fact, been the first thing to occur to her, when she found out. And a part of her was relieved, in a pathetic, somewhat spineless way, that someone else had thought of it, too.

That someone else had said it.

Even if it wasn’t her.

Even if Pippa had once again stepped up to fight Hecate’s battles when she herself shied away from them.

Even if some part of her understood. Understood Beatrice and Clarice and Sibyl, and their frustration. Understood that her coworkers wouldn’t want to broach that topic, wouldn’t want to justify their decision to her.

To some degree, she even understood the decision itself.

“Miss Pentangle.” The edge in Ada’s voice was back, harder and angrier than ever. “Do you think it at all possible that you might be biased in this situation?”

“Miss Cackle, even if I were, would that make me wrong?” Even from the bedroom, Hecate could hear the way Pippa’s voice sharpened like a knife, cold fury in every word.

Ada’s sigh was so soft, so resigned, that Hecate barely heard it. “I don’t know . It was… is… a very difficult situation. I don’t believe that there was any good way to handle it. Clearly, you disagree with the choices made. But they have already been made, and no amount of ire on your part will change that.”

“Then I will assume I have answered your questions to your satisfaction, and let you get back to sleep.” Pippa’s voice was terse, heavy with everything she had left unsaid. Everything Hecate knew she still wanted to say.

But Pippa would respect decorum when it was forced on her, however grudgingly.

Ada must have acquiesced, because not two minutes later, Pippa appeared in the doorway, frustration coming off her in waves. She blanched when she saw Hecate sitting upright.

“I’m sorry, Hiccup,” she said, making her way over to the bed and sitting down heavily. Hecate shifted slightly, adjusting her balance as the mattress moved underneath her. “Miss Cackle called asking after you, and you were asleep, and…” Pippa trailed off, the way she always did when she was uncertain about something. “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, finally. “I thought… considering everything… that you deserved a night’s rest.”

She said nothing of the content of their conversation, though she had to know that Hecate had heard. And Hecate, for her part, had no particular desire to bring it up. She didn’t know what she would say, if she did. Thank you for standing up for like you always do, even if I’m not certain I agree with you had a rather poor ring to it.

“I appreciate you taking the call,” Hecate said, slowly. “I don’t believe I am… quite fit for conversation at the moment.” She said it grudgingly, but she also knew it to be true on some fundamental level. The thought of talking to Ada tonight turned her stomach in a most unpleasant way. She would get over it, she was sure, eventually. But eventually was not tonight, and tonight, the only thing Hecate wanted was to think of literally anything else.

Which was something Pippa apparently understood. With a gentle nudge of her shoulder against Hecate’s, she said, “Now move over, for goodness sake. You know how tired righteous indignation makes me.”

Hecate didn’t even try to conceal the chuckle that bubbled up in her throat. “I do remember something of the sort, yes.”

Hecate moved back to the other side of the bed -- her side, on the nights she spent with Pippa -- and eased back under the covers, turning to face the window. She wasn’t convinced that sleep would come again quite so easily, if at all. But she knew that for all her talk, Pippa wouldn’t actually fall asleep unless Hecate did. That she would refuse to leave her alone, no matter how much Hecate tried to insist that it was unnecessary. And, if she were being completely honest, Hecate had to admit that, at least for tonight, that was something she appreciated much more than she let on.

Pippa slid into bed beside Hecate, and wrapped one arm around Hecate’s stomach, warm and solid and exactly the right kind of there . “I’m glad you’re safe, Hiccup,” she murmured, softly into the back of Hecate’s neck. “I’m glad you came to me.”

Hecate’s breath caught in her chest for a moment. Then, she turned her head, just enough that Pippa would be able to hear her, and said, “So am I.”

#hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #Pippa Pentangle #the worst witch #the worst witch 2017 #tww #fanfiction #things i write

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odaofiga · 6 years ago

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an Oda of Iga, continued

Genre: Fluff, AU Characters: Nobunaga, Mitsuhide Word Count: 1,251 A/N: I really didn’t want to post this, part two, without the third portion of the chapter, but some difficulty with dialogue is holding it up. As it doesn’t contribute much to the plot, I may just scrap part 3 if I can’t figure it out by week’s end. As for Chapter 2, I’d like to get a few pieces up explaining Ai’s backstory before moving on to her time in Kai so expect an origin story next.

Chapter 1, Part 2

A soft ‘hmph’ of dissatisfaction curling his lip, Lord Nobunaga flung the offending letter toward the pair of retainers in his doorway. With a deft hand, Ai caught the parchment before it could touch the floor and help it open between her forefinger and thumb. Even as she angled it to catch the fire light enough to read the short skrawl within, her brother saved her the effort of deciphering its origins.

“...the puppet continues to buck his strings,” he hissed with contempt.

Ai’s gaze lingered on the brasen red of the shogun’s seal in the letter’s corner, leaving no doubt to its authenticity. At its head, bold, brush strokes left the identity of the recipient just as clear; Takeda Shingen, and the candid passage in between held a familiar, sequential air. It was no wonder then that Nobunaga sat clicking his tongue with such obvious irritation. This was further proof Yoshiaki was attempting to rally his benefactor’s enemies against him. Though his secret correspondence with Uesugi and Mori was suspected as well, it seemed the tiger of Kai, at least, had an willing ear.

Mitsuhide had slid the door firmly closed behind them and now took the letter solemnly as Ai offered it. He read it just as quickly as she had, a troubled look tightening his brow, but before he could voice whatever thoughts he might have had, Nobunaga spoke again. A decision had evidently been made before they had even arrived.

“Mitsuhide, gather my retainers,” he commanded.

Mistuhide hesitated, having just bent a knee to kneel. “Milord?”

“We move for Sakamoto by weeks end.” With his intentions made clear, Lord Nobunaga’s eyes moved firmly to Ai and missed the slight blanch that appeared on his chief retainer’s cheeks. Ai, on the other hand, was close enough to hear the breath catch on his lips and flicked her gaze to him expectantly, knowing a rare rebuttal was sure to follow.

“Milord… would it not be more prudent, with the threat from Kai, to wait-”

“I will deal with the tiger,” Nobunaga’s growled, his response was immediate and harsh. “I will not allow the shogun the time to incite my enemies further. The rebellion is rooted in Mt. Hiei and it will end there. Now go.”

The fierce conviction in his words and the sudden darkness in his eyes left no room for further comment. With another low bow and leaving the letter on the tatami mat before him, Lord Mitsuhide took his leave. Tension was still evident in his shoulders as he pulled the door to in his wake.

“Ai.”

Her name, spoken in such soft contrast to his harsh words before, brought her attention back to her brother. His gray eyes were still alight with conviction, but the fire was fading. He was looking at her with a reluctance that she rarely saw, and he seemed momentarily content to merely stare at her. She decided to break the silence instead, settling back into a comfortable kneel.

“Be careful, Brother,” she said softly, glancing meaningfully at the door. “Even Mitsuhide’s loyalty isn’t boundless. And he won’t be the only one reluctant to raze Enryakuji.”

Nobunaga gave a tolerant smile that he wasn’t likely to have shown anyone but family. Choosing to ignore her comments completely, he said instead, “I have a mission for you.”

“...regarding Mt. Hiei?”

He shook his head only once. “No. You won’t be accompanying us to Sakamoto.” When Ai cocked an eyebrow in quiet surprise, he continued. “I need you to deal with the tiger of Kai.”

A silence stretched between them as she let his weighty words hang in the air, staring evenly back at her brother. Infiltration was a common mission allocated to Ai, her upbringing making her particularly suited to the task. The finer mission details frequently included anything from benign reconnaissance to target elimination, in the provinces of allies and enemies alike. Nobunaga had sent her into territories much more perilous than Kai, with far slimmer odds of survival or success, and still… a mission assignment had never been accompanied by such a weighty look of concern from her liege lord. There was something far too ‘brotherly’ in the way his eyes surveyed her now, something very unlike him.

“...you want me to kill him?”

“Takeda’s movements are of more value to me than his life. For the moment.” Nobunaga took a moment withdraw a small glass bottle from within his robes, the familiar colorful star-candy visible inside. He shook a few into his hand and transferred them to his mouth, sucking on the sugary treat to steel himself for his next words. “Ingratiate yourself to the Takeda. The tiger… has a notorious appetite.”

Ai’s lips pressed into a firm line behind the mask as understanding took hold. It wasn’t to food that he was referring, she’d heard similar rumors herself, and suddenly his hesitancy made sense. Injury and death for a mission were expected, but this was the first time she’d been tasked with warming an enemy bed in order to further his path to divine rule. Ai took a moment longer to accept than she normally would have, lowering her eyes to the tatami mats once again.

“I understand,” she said. Then, with a half glance back up, “...and… the Lady Nō?”

Another span of silence lapsed as he considered, broken only by the brief rattle of sugar stars as the bottle was set down. The Nōhime in question was the Lady Oda, Nobunaga’s official wife; though the original woman to hold the title had not lived long enough to enjoy it. The daughter of a political ally at the time, the bride to be, Lady Nō, had proven little more than a well-dressed assassin and paid with her life for it, by Ai’s own blade in fact. To avoid an untimely conflict, her crime, and her execution, had been concealed, and her public role supplemented by the only trustworthy substitute at the time; Ai. Though it had never been intended as a lasting role, the permanently-filled position of a Lady Oda had proven too beneficial to ignore; whether in deterring the odd marriage proposal or in having a ready-made, and potentially lethal, hostage to offer. So whenever ceremony demanded his wife’s attendance, Ai continued to fill the Lady Oda’s lavish robes. But if this mission was to be an extended one, her absence would need to be explained.

“Tomorrow...Nōhime will be moved to Kiyosu, to excuse her absence. You have until then to make preparations.” His words had returned to a clipped manner, but a lingering rasp in his tone made her sure his hesitancy wasn’t as easily forgotten as he wanted her to believe. Nevertheless, he presented a stout posture as he rose to his feet and gestured for her to do the same. Together they moved to the door, and Ai opened it for him, eyes appropriately lowered as he passed through.

“I will send word once I arrive.”

Only a slight lift in his jaw gave any indication he’d heard as Lord Nobunaga strode away toward the main hall. Despite the clear dismissal and the ready-made excuse not to attend the war council, she had the urge to join him and found herself lingering in the hall, eyes locked on his scarlet cloak long after it had disappeared from sight. In truth, she was far more concerned with his safety in the coming assault of Mt. Hiei than she was with her own.

#slbp #samurai love ballad party #slbp fanfic #slbp nobunaga #slbp mitsuhide #oda of iga

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darnedchild · 6 years ago

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Universally Monstrous - The Hunchback of Notre Dame

It's Sherlolly Halloween. This year I'm playing around with short ficlets loosely based off the classic Universal Monsters.

Universally Monstrous

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

“The Quasimodo Killer?” Sherlock scoffed. “Really, John. That’s the best you could do?”

John leaned back from his laptop and glared at his friend. “He leaves his victims in church bell towers.”

“Mmm.” Sherlock shook his head and dropped into his chair with a disappointed huff. “Fairly short-sighted signature for a budding serial killer. There are only so many bell towers in the area.”

“Yet you still haven’t managed to catch him.” John returned to pecking at his keyboard like a frustrated bird as he continued to work on a rough draft for what would eventually turn into a blog post once the case was solved. “Six victims in eleven days and then nothing for a week. Maybe he’s moved on. If he is still around, I hope he holds off for another day or two. I’m supposed to take Rosie to a fancy-dress party with her play group tonight.”

Sherlock deliberately closed his eyes and steepled his fingers against his lips, a silent signal that he was done talking.

Seconds later an icy chill ran down his spine and Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. “Fancy dress?”

John nodded without looking up. “Yeah, I know. She’s three, seems a little young to be going full out already; but one of the mom’s is really into the whole party organizing thing, and Rosie picked out a unicorn costume with the most ridiculous sparkly rainbow mane.”

“What day is it? The date.”

John frowned at the urgent tone from his friend. “October 31st. Halloween.”

Sherlock sprung from his chair and scrambled to the window to glance at the sky. “It’s nearly sunset. Where is Rosie now?”

“One of the other playgroup moms offered to take her to one of those kid friendly beauty salon places before the party. You know, paint the nails and curl the hair, a little lip gloss, pamper the girls and call them princess.” John’s expression darkened even more.

The Consulting Detective pulled his mobile off the desk where it had been charging and began to pull up his contact list. “Call the mom, confirm she’s still with Rosie.”

“Sherlock?” John reached out and grabbed his friend’s arm as he passed. “What is it?”

“Something’s off. Something … feels off. Just call, John.”

“Yeah, all right.” John set his laptop aside and took his phone into the kitchen.

The first text was sent to Molly.

Let me know if anything interesting comes through the morgue tonight? Bored.

The next went to Lestrade.

Any updates on the bell tower murders?

The third was short and terse, and went to Mycroft.

Status?

Then Sherlock stood at the edge of the landing and loudly called down the stairs. “Mrs Hudson?”

He actually held his breath for the forty seconds it took to hear the sound of shuffling footsteps approach the door of the flat below. The door creaked open and Mrs Hudson answered, “Sherlock?”

For just a moment, Sherlock allowed himself to slump against the wall in relief. That’s one.

“Sherlock, did you need something?” Mrs Hudson called out again.

“Tea.” He pushed away from the wall and pictured the way Molly’s lips had pursed in disapproval when she’d heard him shout the same thing last time she’d come to visit. He leaned toward the stairs again. “Please.”

His mobile pinged as he moved back into his sitting room. Lestrade had replied.

You mean Quasimodo? Nothing new here. Do you have something?

That’s two.

He sent something noncommittal in reply and joined John in the kitchen. “Rosie?”

John held up his finger, nodding as if the person he was speaking to on the phone could see him. “Really? Sounds like she’s enjoying herself. Thanks again, Marcy.” He hung up and turned to face Sherlock.

“She’s getting a pedi, whatever that entails. I could hear her giggling in the background.”

Three.

While he should have been feeling relieved with each consecutive check-in, Sherlock found himself becoming more and more tense. The inexplicable feeling of dread continued to grow.

A full two minutes later his mobile pinged again. An equally terse reply from Mycroft.

Status of what?

Four, Sherlock thought. He ignored his brother and continued to wait for one last reply.

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” John nodded toward Sherlock’s phone.

“I don’t know. Not for certain. It’s just a feeling. An instinct. Something’s off, John. I can’t put my finger on it, not yet.”

John nodded. “Yeah, all right. So what’s next?”

Sherlock stared at his phone, as if he could will it to emit the soft little trill that signalled Molly’s texts with the force of his thoughts. “I’m waiting for one more reply. Where is she?”

“She?” John blanched. “Molly.”

“Obviously Molly,” Sherlock huffed. “Who else would-“

The mobile trilled.

Sherlock’s relief was extremely short lived.

It was Molly’s number, but he immediately knew the text hadn’t been written by his pathologist.

Ding dong, Mr Holmes.

Do I have your attention?

Ding dong. Bells. The bell tower murderer.

“Of course. That’s why he’s been quiet the last week. He’s been biding his time until tonight. How cliché.”

“You’re kidding.” John was suddenly at his side, trying to get a better look at the screen. “What the hell is Quasimodo doing with Molly’s phone?”

“I don’t know, perhaps his was dead and Molly simply loaned him hers.” Sherlock glared at the other man.

Even knowing it was mostly like a futile endeavour, he did ask about Molly. Ask expected, the bell tower murderer ignored his question.

Time to end this cat and mouse silliness.

I’ll send a time and place later this evening. If you wish to see your friend in one piece ever again, you will be on time. Come alone, Mr Holmes. I’ll know if you don’t.

He tried texting back several times, demanding to know where Molly was and if she was okay. No reply.

“You’re not going alone,” John insisted.

“Obviously. Once I have the location and time, you’ll contact Lestrade and meet me there.” Sherlock kept his expression as neutral as possible, even as he lied. There was no way he was going to allow John or any member of the Yard to put Molly’s life at risk. “Shouldn’t you be arranging for someone else to take your daughter to her party tonight?”

“Oh, God, yeah. Right. Maybe Mrs Hudson, she’ll understand.” John hurried down the stairs and Sherlock immediately grabbed his Belstaff.

He slipped through the front door as soon as he was sure John was busy with Mrs Hudson. He stayed in the general area of Baker Street. The bell tower murderer would most likely base his meeting time off the assumption that Sherlock was waiting at home; if he travelled too far in the wrong direction, he might not arrive at the appointed time.

It was just after eleven thirty when his mobile trilled. The message simply said five to midnight and an address.

Sherlock reviewed the street maps in his head and compared them to the average traffic patterns for that time of night. It would be close.

If you’re late she will die.

For one brief moment he considered alerting John, then shook his head and set off at a run down the nearly empty sidewalk. There wasn’t time to catch a cab and hope for the best.

He found the condemned church with two minutes to spare. The front door was cracked open, saving him from needing to find a way to break in. The interior was dark except for a few lit tealights that had been left like a trail of breadcrumbs leading him to a set of stairs.

To the bell tower.

Sherlock took the stairs two at a time until he reached the small room that housed the disused church bell. The room was open to the night on all four sides. It was obvious that the bell had been purely decorative for the last few years that the church had been in operation. The chimes would have come from a recording, the partially ripped out wiring in the ceiling would have belonged to speakers.

And there, huddled on the floor behind the bell, was Molly.

He wanted to rush to her side and pull her into his arms to shield her from the cold night air, but he needed to remain on alert while he looked for the man who had already murdered six people. Sherlock eased around the bell and knelt by her side, keeping his gaze moving as he peered into every shadow.

Her head lifted at the endearment. He chanced glancing down at her, needing to confirm she was going to be all right.

“Sherlock?” Her voice was thin and soft, and her eyes were wet with tears.

“I’m here, sweetheart. Can you tell me where he went, how long has he been gone?” Sherlock couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Finding Molly had been easy, far too easy. An obvious trap, but how would it be sprung.

“I never left, Mr Holmes.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. He’d expected the words to come from the shadows, not from the small woman at his side. Her tone was firmer than before, harsher. Her expression twisted into something malevolent and cold.

“Molly?”

Molly grimaced. “She’s quite stubborn. Didn’t want to give up control, none of them really ever do, but she’s been more of a pain than the others.” Molly pushed Sherlock away with almost superhuman strength. He slid across the floor and into the balustrade opposite hard enough to hear something crack and knock the air from his lungs.

He huffed and rolled to his knees.

She rose to her feet and tilted her head to look down at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. You didn’t seem like the sentimental type the last time we met.”

Sherlock pulled himself up, using the railing for support. Judging from the sharp pain, he may have broken a rib. “Met?”

“Minsk. Belarus. You weren’t very polite, Mr Holmes. Leaving me there, in that prison, to hang for my wife’s murder.” Molly shook her head and tsked. “It’s okay though. Gave me a chance to meet some old friends of yours on the other side.”

“Friends?” Sherlock searched the bell tower, looking for anything he could use to defend himself. Although, when the time came, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring himself to hurt her. No matter what was going—Spirits did not exist and people did not get possessed by the ghosts of vengeful ex-clients, did they?—she was still his Molly.

“You’re a popular man, Mr Holmes. You’ve made lots of people very, very angry. They’ll be so jealous when they realize I found a way back.”

Sherlock tugged on the railing, testing to see if it was loose enough he could pull part of it free to use as a club. “And how did you manage that, Bernard?”

“Berwick!” Molly growled. “It’s easy enough, when the time is right and you know the path. Found a priestess who wanted to visit her family. Took her place and crossed over instead. And now, after I take over you and kill your friend, I’ll be able to stay. Fitting revenge, don’t you think?”

‘I’ll be able to stay.’ There’s the clue.

“And if you don’t kill her?” The railing didn’t have much give, but the harder he pulled the more it creaked.

“Then I kill you. It doesn’t matter as long as the seventh dies before the last stroke of midnight. This isn’t the body I would have chosen, but it’s better than nothing. Who knows, I may learn to enjoy myself, she’s pretty enough.” Molly leered and reached up to cup her own breasts.

Sherlock hissed, “Don’t you touch her.”

Molly threw back her head to laugh and Sherlock made his move. He launched himself toward her, hoping to knock her down, but she was much more solid than she looked. She fought back and he found himself on the floor with her body holding him down.

Impossibly, the rusted church bell began to sway and a phantom clapper struck the side.

Midnight!

For one brief moment, the face above his softened and Molly was once again looking at him. “He’s panicking. Run, Sherlock.”

He reached up to touch her cheek as the bell continued to ring out. “I can’t. I won’t. I love you.”

Her head fell to his chest and he heard her sob, but when she lifted it again it was Berwick’s eyes that stared back at him. “Touching, but pointless.”

Molly’s hands wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze. Sherlock thrashed underneath her, trying to throw her off even as part of his mind counted off the bell’s strikes. His vision began to grow dark at ten.

Then he was free, free to draw in air.

Molly was on her knees at his side, hands pressed against her head and her face twisted in pain. “No, no! I won’t let you do it!”

The eleventh stroke rang out.

She glared at Sherlock and snarled, “Stupid bitch won’t stay down. I’m out of time, Holmes, but don’t think you’ve won. There’s always next year.” She collapsed as the bell rang one final time.

Sherlock crawled to her side and rolled her over. She was breathing, which was a good sign. “Molly. Molly, sweetheart. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes opened and he sobbed in relief. “Is he gone?” she asked.

“For now.”

#sherlolly halloween at 221b #2018 sherlolly halloween #sherlolly

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hillnerd · 7 years ago

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Taking a Shallow Breath Ch 7

Ships: Rose/Scorpius, canon and others | FF.net

Romance friendship comedy family & drama | starts super silly- will get more serious as we go.

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Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

A person's front door can say a great deal about them.

Some people enjoy choosing grande hand-carved doors that have history, and speak of times of old. Scorpius tended to like people who chose such doors. It meant they appreciated artistry, quality, and could embrace the unique. They also had a flair for drama. Rose loved those kinds of doors.

Some people prefer the clean lines of an Edwardian door. These usually put more effort into the knobs, hinges, and door-knockers than the wood itself. They speak of someone who enjoys details, while being beyond the fuss of the overly grande, and relatively down to earth. Scorpius had such a door.

There were also doors filled with character but no artistry. Albus had such a door. It was beaten up from years of use, a faded orange color, and the number six hung down so that it looked like a nine. He had a shoddy matt out front with stripes, and though it was anything but put together, it had a certain charm about it.

And finally there was the red hunk of metal Brad had the audacity to call a door.

It bore no decoration- there wasn't even a welcome matt: just a cold steel handle, highly glossy red metal and a black peep hole. It spoke of someone slick like the varnish, cool like the metal, and flashy like that atrocious tomato red.

Scorpius hated that door.

What he hated even more was that he had been staring at it for one hour, nineteen minutes, and ten seconds.

"Rose! Open this door! This is getting ridiculous!" yelled Brad.

One hour, nineteen minutes, and fifteen seconds with the poncy owner himself.

"Calling her actions ridiculous will hardly entice her to leave," Scorpius drawled from the floor.

Brad tried another spell. The door glowed blue then turned garish red again.

"You've also tried that spell already," said Scorpius, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Rose's Charms are the best. Get a magical locksmith: I doubt drawing up contracts for overpaid Quidditch stars has improved your charms enough to worm your way in."

Scorpius was satisfied to see Brad's shoulders tense. Until Brad, Scorpius had never met someone he could not get a rise out of when he wanted to. He had never seen the man lose his cool, which made Al's theory that 'Bert' was not human slightly more plausible.

"It's a Sunday. Magical Locksmiths are like banks and private practice Healers- closing at the merest hint of a Holiday or weekend." Brad leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Rose's Uncle is a cursebreaker... Perhaps I could get him to open the door."

"If you want the whole Weasley family to know your personal business with Rose, by all means do," said Scorpius. "I'm sure her father would be keen to know why his only daughter has barricaded herself."

Brad blanched.

"You know, this is probably the most I've ever heard you talk, Scorpius."

Scorpius stoically did not mention he despised Brad and generally made excuses to escape his company.

"I suppose I just don't see enough of you and Al, though I think Al orchestrates that. He seems to rather despise me. If it weren't for the fact that he and Rose were cousins ,I'd think he were jealous."

"He is very protective of Rose," Scorpius said with a schooled shrug.

"As are you."

Scorpius remained silent. He didn't like where Brad was probing with this conversation.

"You know, there is a closeness between you and Rose I quite envy at times..."

"Perhaps, if you weren't so busy negotiating with Melrose Fenwick, you could spend time with Rose," said Scorpius.

"We spend plenty of time together," Brad said with a raunchy smile that made Scorpius roll his eyes. "But I still envy your friendship. Sometimes I even worry she tells you things she would never tell me."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not privy to your private conversations, after all." Scorpius could not recall being more uncomfortable. He hoped this would bring an end to this intimate look into Brandon Bradley's perspective. He came from a family where you were taught to never reveal your weaknesses, or worries, for fear they would be exploited later. Being a Slytherin only further enforced this. Scorpius had very few people he trusted with his insecurities, secrets and dreams. Brad would never be one of them, and he had no idea why Brad felt the need to share such details with him.

"She's incredibly special, you know? I even wonder how I was lucky enough to catch her."

Scorpius had pondered that subject many a time.

"I don't pretend to understand your relationship, but your friendship means a great deal to her, so whatever it is you're holding against me, I hope we can move past it. I know she'd appreciate it if we got along," said Brad.

Scorpius resisted a gaffaw.

Either Brad was very shrewd, or he was a much more gracious person than Scorpius had thought him. He hoped it was the former, that way his continued hatred would feel even more just. Was he trying to weasel something of a confession out of Scorpius?

Or maybe he was hoping to use Scorpius as a way to quickly earn Rose's forgiveness.

Scorpius had never cared much for Brad. The man was much too keen to have everyone's approval, an attribute Scorpius disdained. What tolerance he had for Brad dipped when he took up with Rose three years prior- but following the proposal, Scorpius found it hard to recall one pleasant thing about him. If someone like Rose could manage to stand the bastard, he had to have at least one redeeming feature, and after thinking, Scorpius discovered it. He had clean fingernails. There! That was surely enough for karma's sake.

Looking at the shiny door, Scorpius could make out their reflections as they sat together. At first glance one might think the rivals friends.

What if they were friends? Wouldn't Rose appreciate it? Wouldn't Scorpius have more opportunities to sabotage Brad and leave him in a crying mess on the floor for others to mock?

Scorpius felt a bit ill. It was uncomfortable to come to terms with how deeply rooted and savage his feelings towards Brad had become.

The most ruthless part of him wanted to sabotage Brad in every way. He did not want to stop at just stealing Rose, but hurt Brad's reputation, and leave him gutted. He wanted revenge against the ponce for ever having taken Rose's time and attention.

He shook his head to rid himself of this dangerous territory of thought. He never considered himself spiteful- though he had been known as a bit harsh at times, he was nothing if not fair. He was not terribly fluent in underhanded dealings, only ever dabbling in them when necessary, for he had always regarded himself as above that. He was a pillar of virtue, compared to many of the Slytherins he knew.

Of course, being friendly with Brad could have other benefits, like research on how to get Rose to see all the faults in him Scorpius and Al did. He would finally end the hold Brad had on Rose's affections, and if Brad would suffer, so be it.

"Yes, she would appreciate us getting along," Scorpius finally conceded.

"I'm willing to try."

"And I'm willing... to look past your atrocious taste in architectural features."

Brad laughed.

"Yeah, it's not quite as classic as your tastes-"

"That's one way to put it," said Scorpius with a raised brow at the door.

"I suppose that's why you're the architect."

"I don't have any business cards with me, but feel free to floo my secretary. It needs an overhaul, if not for taste's sake, then for your neighbors'. I would have lodged a complaint years ago."

"You know, it's been over an hour," Brad said, deftly changing the subject. "Part of me is wondering if she's in there or not."

Scorpius turned his head to the side. A spark of thought burgeoned within him. Rose was not there at all... and he had a reasonably good idea of where to find her. The more he thought on it, the more he felt the need to leave immediately.

"Well, it seems there is nothing I can do to rectify this situation. I suppose I'm going to go home," he said, hoping Brad took no notice of his sudden inspiration. Brad didn't seem concerned, so Scorpius took his leave, doing his best to look unhurried. The moment the doors closed on the the elevator he apparated.

He was immediately in the familiar alleyway near Marylebone High Street. Of all the wizard inventions, how they had not managed to get better apparating points, he was unsure. The alley had the same long abandoned posters featuring bands he had never heard of, and long-forgotten flyers of past classes liberally lining its its brick walls. At one point people must have passed by this area quite often, but the foreclosed building at the end of the alley looked like it hadn't seen people in a decade. It was a shame, really, as it was built rather handsomely, and with a few spells and layers of paint, it would be a grande place for a business of some sort.

He walked fast as he could without gaining unwarranted attention, until coming to the dark blue doors of the museum.

"Malfoooy!" he heard a voice trill from inside. Vanessa, a plump genial woman called him from the desk. The bubbly woman had worked there ever since its opening, she told him some years ago. She seemed an odd fit for the quiet rooms of the small museum, especially as her trilling laugh would echo off the walls disturbing the guests. He fished in his pockets to pay her for admission. "Don't you try to pay us. You and Rose are in here often enough, it wouldn't be right to ask you to pay each time."

"Fine, but I swear I'll manage to pay you eventually," Scorpius said, re-pocketing a muggle bill. "Is Rose in her usual spot?"

"Oh yes! Same as usual," Vanessa said with a laugh. Scorpius gave her a nod of thanks, before making his way into the gallery. A few turns and flights of stairs, and he was able to see Rose's bright hair. She sat alone on her bench, firmly staring at the painting front of her. Her hand tried to sneakily remove a piece of chocolate from her purse. The purse crinkled in a way that made him suspect this was not her first piece of the day.

"I believe it's against the rules to bring in outside food or drink," said Scorpius, pointing to the sign above her head that said 'no outside food or drink.'

"It doesn't say anything about chocolate," she said pushing another chocolate into her mouth, and licking her fingers. She moved the purse, almost overflowing with wrappers, to the side. Whether she moved it to make room for him to sit, or to conceal how many chocolates she had eaten, he was not sure.

He silently sat on the proffered spot, though not without spelling away a pair of chocolate finger prints from the seat.

Rose continued to chew, a look of consternation wrinkling her brow. She had a bit of chocolate in the corner of her mouth.

"Here." He handed her a handkerchief. She wretched it from his hand and wrathfully swiped at her face.

"Are you all done depriving the greater Western Hemisphere of cocoa, or should I wait until we can roll you out the door?"

Rose scowled at him.

"You're not going to hex me into the wall like your fiance, are you?" he asked.

"I would never do that in a museum!" Rose replied, scandalized. "But once we're out of here, there are definitely no guarantees."

"Good to know. You should never warn your enemies, though," he replied, patting his wand.

"That's such a Slytherin thing to say!"

"And that's such a a Gryffindor response!" he mocked.

They sat in companionable silence, staring at Rose's favorite painting "La Belle Dame Sans Merci." Scorpius suspected she loved it because of the featured temptress who had hair every bit as red and wild as Rose's. Everything about it was like a person were in a mythical dream. The redheaded woman who held an otherworldly grace of temptation, the grande steed, the bright glow of the knight's armor; all of it created a picture one could get lost in. Rose attempted to get lost in it weekly, and sometimes more.

"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, alone and palely loitering?" Rose recited.

"Besides having to put up with your wild temper, and a bad case of asthma, I'm doing fairly well," Scorpius laughed.

"It's from the poem the painting is based on, dimwit," said Rose.

"I knew that and was being ironic, swot."

"Who wrote the poem it's based on, prat?" she challenged.

"Keats, gasbag. I do occasionally listen when you go into your long speeches about paintings."

"You're on my good side again, then. Plus, I didn't feel like being a human thesaurus any longer. Want to get going?"

Scorpius acquiesced and they left the museum, Rose leading the way. With them, a good teasing argument usually settled any disagreement. The cool air gave Rose a lovely flush under her spattering of freckles. They walked in silence before Scorpius suddenly asked the question:

"Was there a particular reason you were so miffed at me, earlier? With Al and Brad it was fairly obvious, but me..."

Rose stopped at a window display and feigned interest in the vases there.

"So, was there a reason, or were you just exercising your right as a redhead to have a perilously short temper?"

"I was just a bit mad at you for escalating the argument with Brad, really," she said coolly. "All your annoying asides didn't help an already difficult situation."

"Ah, and here I thought you were jealous of my orgy with Lily and Mags," said Scorpius, demeanor calm.

Rose made a face and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"You wouldn't do that," she stated firmly. Scorpius silently watched her reflection, eyebrow arched.

"Or at least Mags and Lily wouldn't do that. I'm still... unsure about your moral ambiguity."

"Hmm," he replied, seeing her flustered expression. "I must admit I can be very morally ambiguous. I suppose I'll just have to depend on you to rehabilitate me."

Scorpius then did something reckless. He was standing intimately close to her and took a curl from her forehead and pushed it to the side, his fingers grazing her pale brow. She seemed to hold her breath, but he could still smell the chocolate in it. Her blue eyes deepened, her delicate and inviting lips opened as her eyelids started to flutter shut. But suddenly Rose backed away with a great jerk and the spell was broken.

"Very funny, you dirty minded thing," she exclaimed, with an overdone laugh. "So! What were they doing in your apartment? Besides the 'orgy'— you can leave those details for someone who cares."

"They decided my wardrobe needed an update."

"I like your old clothes better."

"Lily sort of insisted—"

"Since when do you listen to anyone's advice on anything?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. Rose always had an answer for everything, one of her traits that both annoyed and endeared her to him. In this case, though, she was chattering to keep him at bay.

"Well, perhaps this little experiment in fashion proves I am right in not listening to people's advice," he said. "But I do not want to argue about it anymore, Rose."

"Scorpius! Rose!" they heard from down the street.

They turned to see Lily bounding towards them. Scorpius supposed Al had told her about Rose's little street.

He was going to give a greeting when Lily pressed herself against him and kissed him. Had she been someone else, he imagined he would have greatly enjoyed such a kiss. It was far too long for propriety, and left him rather dazed as one of her hands snaked its way into his hair. After a few moments of her exploring his molars with her tongue she popped off of his face and gave him a sultry grin.

"Hullo, lover."

"Hi," he said with a great breath, trying not to pull a face.

"Hi..." Rose said in such a cantankerous way that Scorpius suddenly realized what had just transpired. Her expression looked somewhere between confusion, distaste and anger.

"So... What are you doing here?" Scorpius let out, his mind catching up to the situation as rapidly as it could. He would have to ask her to refrain from such kisses in the future as it muddled his brain.

"Brad Flooed me and told me what happened. We started looking in all the spots she might be, and I knew Rose comes here often enough. I'm not surprised you were the one to find her first. I definitely am going to give you another examination tonight."

Scorpius glanced between the two women, Lily giving him a rather convincing besotted look, and Rose giving an incredulous stare.

"Well," Scorpius swallowed, and calmed steadied himself before letting out the most stupid lie of his life.

"As you can see... Lily and I... We're involved."

"Involved," Rose repeated flatly.

"Wait a moment," Lily said before giving him a swat. "You haven't told her yet?"

"No," he said coming back to speed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rose. It just sort of ... happened."

"A few months ago, actually," Lily added. Albus was right. Lily was an incredibly adept liar, and continued to play her role perfectly. "With all the wedding plans he didn't want to distract from you and Brad, but I thought he must have told you by now."

Rose shook her head.

"No... No he didn't tell me a thing."

"We ok?" Scorpius asked, trying to look her in the eye.

She hesitated, then gave them a smile, never looking him in the eye.

"It's fine," she said. "Really, it is. There isn't always a time to say those kinds of things the way you want to. I guess that explains your taking her fashion advice."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Lily said breezily. "On another note, Brad is worried– and we need to do some tests on Scorpius to see what he's allergic to. Why don't you go back to your apartment and then we can figure out your flower arrangement?"

"Why don't we meet at your place, then Floo him, Lily?" Rose supplied. "We could apparate there right now, in fact. You've been to her place before, right Scorpius?"

Scorpius dumbly nodded. He had never been to Lily's home. He didn't even know if it was in London. Lily gave him a panicked look.

"Are you sure you want to come directly with us? Don't you want some alone time with Brad?" Lily asked.

"It's ok," Rose said, looking between Scorpius and Lily. "You two don't want alone time do you?"

Scorpius and Lily exchanged awkward glances.

"No no! There will plenty of time for us to be alone again when you're on your honeymoon," Lily supplied quickly. "But, uh, why don't you go ahead, and we'll meet you there. I have something private to tell him."

Rose made one of her faces. "Right... Well, see you there in a minute, then."

As she walked away, Lily gave her a little wave. Her other hand snaked into Scorpius' back pocket and gave it a squeeze that made him jump from her.

They could distantly hear Rose's apparation.

"Oh, God! She's going to my apartment! Why did you say you had been to my apartment?"

"I couldn't very well say I hadn't been to my girlfriend's place, could I?"

"Yes! Yes you could have! You won't know where any of my shit is, which will be a dead giveaway! Rose isn't stupid, remember?" Lily spat, clearly aggravated. "Are you sure you're a Slytherin? Because you are pathetic at this whole 'plotting' thing."

"I'm sorry, it's a bit hard to concentrate when your tongue is exploring my esophagus and your hand keeps grabbing my bum. Overkill much?".

"Ok, so I was a bit demonstrative. I'll try to hold back from making her jealous," Lily growled. "God, this is awkward as fuck."

"I agree with your sentiment," Scorpius said, giving her a look of distaste.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I could never date anyone so stuck up."

"Next time warn me before you touch me with that filthy mouth of yours," he said, leading the way to the Apparition point.

"Don't make me get those bouquets from the wedding, Asthma Boy!"

"Perhaps we can stick more to witty banter instead of wagging tongues, if you think you can manage."

"Fine. No more unexpected wagging-tongues. She'll get so jealous that you're arguing with me, instead of her, she'll dump Brad immediately," she said dryly.

"Well, at least warn me a bit. It befuddles the mind," he said. "And I need it to stay sharp for all the 'plotting' I'm so pathetic at."

"Let's just Apparate," she said holding his arm a bit too firmly.

Scorpius felt a squeeze around his chest. He hoped it was just due to the side-along apparition, and not nerves at having begun a farce that meant continually lying to his best and oldest friend.

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#Taking a Shallow breath #fanfiction #fan fic #my writing #rose/scorpius #scorose #rose weasley #scorpius malfoy #harry potter #next generation #next gen #family #romance #comedy #drama #hp #wip

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one-of-us-blog · 7 years ago

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An Illegitimate Concern (TGG, Season 5, Episode 18)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap An Illegitimate Concern, Episode 18 of the fifth season of The Golden Girls. When Blanche is faced with some unexpected and unwelcome news regarding her beloved late husband, she is forced to reevaluate the past. Will she be able to face the truth without sacrificing her fond memories? Keep reading to find out…

First of all, let me quickly tell Drew that I really enjoyed his recap of Death in Heaven. Great job, Cap! I am sorry that you had to see your beloved Cybermen suffer injustice once more, but at least you are rid of Danny Pink! I am glad that we have Capaldi’s first season behind us now, because the next one is a drastic leap forward in terms of quality. All but one episode (which is the really bad one from the season) are multi-part affairs, and I can’t wait to get your thoughts on them! But without further ado, I have my own recap to knock out, and it’s time I get down to business. Let’s head to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Marc Cherry and Jamie Wooten, directed by Terry Hughes

We open to find Sophia buttering up Dorothy with compliments, which can only mean that she wants something. In fact, she wants Dorothy to join her in the Shady Pine Mother/Daughter Beauty Pageant, and to help put an old bag named Gladys in her place. Dorothy is reluctant, but Sophia knows which strings to pull, and says that she doesn’t have many challenges left to face in life. Dorothy caves. Sophia isn’t pulling any punches and she immediately informs Dorothy about a particular judge’s fetish, information which Blanche can also support. A young man named David arrives at the door looking for George Devereaux, Blanche’s late husband. When he is informed that George is dead, he claims to be selling encyclopedias (though as Rose points out, this doesn’t seem anything like the way encyclopedias are sold back in St. Olaf). David scrams.

Moving forward in time, Blanche mentions that she had a very unusual experience at the market, as the young encyclopedia salesman was there and staring at her. She assumes the poor lad is smitten with her, but Dorothy and Rose suspect that he’s merely a sex-crazed psycho with a granny complex. Sophia has found some matching dresses for the evening gown portion of the upcoming pageant, but Dorothy wants to wear something simple and regrets saying yes to the whole affair. Rose mentions that she should have said no to the Miss St. Olaf Pageant, as she ended up losing on the intelligence portion of the contest. When her story is finished, she earns herself a tag-team newspaper swat from Dorothy and Blanche.

In the next scene, we learn that Davis has been lurking outside the house in his car, and the girls are convinced he is obsessed with Blanche. When he comes to the door, Blanche sits him down for some real talk. David tells her that he has no feelings for her, but has something to say, and Blanche tells him to spit it out already. He does, revealing that George Devereaux was his father. Blanche, in return, tells him to get out of her house. Before he can leave, Dorothy asks him to recount how he learned the truth, and it turns out that George must have had a fling in Dallas, Texas many years ago, but David only learned of this recently. He has questions about the man who was his father, but Blanche still makes him leave despite his apologies. She tells the gals that she doesn’t want to talk, but immediately begins questioning how George could do this to her. Sure, she had opportunities to be unfaithful (including with a 60 Minutes contributor, who the girls speculate might have been Morley Safer), but she always turned them down. Blanche feels betrayed.

Jumping ahead a bit, Blanche is unable to sleep, and has been going through her old diaries looking for evidence. Sophia admits that Sal had a wandering eye once, but Rose states that Charlie was always faithful to her. Thanks, Rose. Then again, the St. Olaf divorce laws helped. The discussion then turns to the age old question of whether men have evolved to cheat naturally, or are just scum.

We now proceed to the highlight of the episode, in which Sophia is dressed like Sonny Bono and Dorothy is dressed like Cher. They are ready to knock this Mother/Daughter Pageant out of the park! They sing “I Got You Babe” with Rose on piano accompaniment, and Dorothy even has the mannerisms down.

Unfortunately, the performance is cut short when the song takes Rose back to the civil unrest of St. Olaf in the ‘60s. Blanche enters the room, and mistakes the duo for Cheech and Chong. Grabbing a moment alone with Blanche, Rose makes a confession. She has a guilty conscience because George actually was unfaithful to her at one point, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was so upset with her husband that she refused to “make strudel” for a year. Still, she says that Blanche shouldn’t discard all of her wonderful memories over a mistake from the past.

The girls are heading to the pageant when David shows up once more. Blanche sends the others on ahead, and then has a conversation with the young man. He wants to know if George ever went fishing. Blanche decides to open up a little, and begins telling David about his father. She even gets out a photo album, and discovers that George actually did go fishing once after all. She gives the picture to David, and it seems that they may both be able to move forward at last.

Dorothy and Sophia return from the beauty pageant, where they were victorious! Well, they were actually the runners up, but if the winners are unable to fulfill their duties, they are on call. Thankfully, they beat Gladys terribly. Suck it, Gladys. Blanche has finally become reconciled to the idea of David, and is ready to move on. Still, she briefly scolds a picture of George, and we learn that the 60 Minutes contributor who she rejected was Andy Rooney.

The End.

What a great episode! This one rates high for me, because we had an A plot with some actual weight behind it, and a B plot that was limited enough to stay out of the way, while still being genuinely funny. In fact, it was my favorite portion of the episode, and I loved seeing Bea Arthur inhabiting Cher. Good stuff! Infidelity can be a difficult subject, but with this much distance between the act and the present, and nobody left to blame, I’m glad that Blanche was able to accept David and hold onto her positive memories of George. Oh, and “sex-crazed psycho with a granny complex” was a great line as well. I enthusiastically give An Illegitimate Concern a score of 4.5 poofy hairdos out of 5!

Check back in soon for Drew’s recap of Last Christmas, the next Doctor Who Christmas special, and I’ll be back later this week with my take on 72 Hours, the next episode of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 8 years ago

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Snowbells and Forget-Me-Nots

Note: Roughly three weeks ago, someone on AO3 anonymously requested some Beth/Gideon interaction. I tried to write it last weekend and I got like 5,000 words in before my computer decided to be an ass and deleted it. I was able to savage 3,700 of those words mainly because I had shared bits and pieces of it with one of my most awesome internet friends. It was a pain in the ass, I had a meltdown and decided to take a break from the story. Anyway, I apologize to the person who wanted this fic like three weeks ago. I hope this met all of your expectations. If you squint a bit, you can definitely see that Arya Stark is one of many major influences in regard to the creation of Beth Jones. Anyway, Gideon is 16-15ish and Beth is 11 in this installment. Don’t be fooled by the Gideon POV, it’s very much Captain Swan focused. Thanks once again, @welllpthisishappening for dealing with my bullshit. (Available in AO3 flavor here: [LINK]) Summary: Needing some space, Gideon Gold spends his summer working in his Grandpa Moe’s flower shop where he often stays late to work on specialty projects such as wedding and anniversary bouquets. Seeking refuge from her grandmother, Beth Jones needs a place to hide where no one would ever look to find her. While allowing her to hide in Game of Thorns, Gideon ropes Beth into helping him with a project for her parents. Rating: T Word Count: 5900+

It surprised nearly everyone when Gideon Gold had decided to take a summer job at his grandfather’s flower shop. Naturally, all of them, especially his father, had expected him to follow into the family business of helping run Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer, but Gideon had no desire to be at the pawn shop anymore than he already was. His mother had understood that he had needed to branch out and to be given so breathing space. His father had taken it as best as Gideon could expect and, predictably, saw it as a personal slight. The elder Gold handled this decision in the same passive aggressive way he handled every slight, imagined or otherwise, with snippy remarks and judgmental stares.

The truth was, though he had decided to work with his grandfather to have some space, Gideon enjoyed being in the flower shop. There was a quiet zen to Game of Thorns that calmed his spirit and allowed his thoughts to drift peacefully. There wasn’t any strange hums of foreign magic lingering around aside from Gideon’s own magic, which permeated around the shop; living and growing inside the flora under his care. The air was always fresh and fragrant with the smell of newly bloomed flowers and fresh buds which allowed him to breath easier. It also helped that the shop was cool and the air conditioner was always on, something Gideon was incredibly thankful in the sweltering heat of the New England summer. As the temperature continued to rise, Gideon had never been more thankful to have taken work in his grandfather’s shop rather than suffer through the stale aired dusty hot-box that was the pawnshop.

More than just preferring the atmosphere of Game of Thorns, Gideon actually enjoyed working with the flowers. At first, Grandpa Moe had only let him tend to the plants and Gideon had spent weeks watering, fertilizing and pruning nearly everything in the shop; learning the idiosyncrasies of each and every flower. (And if he had given so dying plants a bit of a magic touch, well no one was the wiser.)

It was on a long day full of back orders for Nick Zimmer and Mary LeBeau’s wedding when Gideon’s talents with floral arrangements and custom bouquets was discovered. He had an eye for color and a taste for the creative that was unexpected but not unwelcome. He would never forget how Grandpa Moe had clapped him on the back and called him a prodigy florist for making centerpieces with calla lilies, delphiniums, agapanthus and hyacinth blossoms that perfectly matched the deep royal purple of the bride’s theme.

Since then, Grandpa Moe had given him more freedom to work on projects in the shop and even allowing him to work on specialty orders alone. If the flower choices seemed somewhat unorthodox or if the flowers stayed fresh and lively longer than what was considered natural, no one made a comment on it.

Working with specialty arrangements gave Gideon a better insight into all the inner workings of Storybrooke in ways that he had never experienced before. As a child, he had always been on the outside looking in and always kept out of the loop mainly due to fear and resentment that many felt towards his father. The Charming family and his mother may have forgiven him for his past sins, but the rest of the town wasn’t so willing to bury the hatchet. Now, Gideon knew when who was dating who, who was cheating who and who with, who was in love, who was getting married, who was getting divorced and didn’t want to be divorced and who was graduating. Never in a million years had Gideon thought he would know as much information about the citizens of Storybrooke as he did just from working at the flower shop. It was a lot to soak in, but it was something that Gideon was learning came with the territory of being a florist.

It was while working in the flower shop that Gideon realized how stupidly in love Mr. Jones was with Mrs. Jones. Without fail, twice a month on a Friday morning, Killian Jones would pay a visit to Game of Thorns and buy a dozen roses for his wife before they went out for date night. Gideon had known the Joneses since before he could remember and their middle son Westley was his best friend, but he had never really paid much attention to the relationship between Westley’s parents before he started working with Grandpa Moe.

“He’s a romantic,” his grandfather commented one day after Mr. Jones had left with his bimonthly roses, leaving nothing but a twinkling bell and a five dollar tip in the jar on the counter in his wake. “I never expected that of the Captain, but he is. It’s half the reason I give him a discount. Gotta invest in your regular customers, Gideon, it helps with the business. Treat them right and they will keep coming back.”

It was towards the end of August when Mr. Jones broke pattern. Gideon had been working on a specialty bouquet for the Hermans to give their daughter Alexandra after her equestrian tournament when Mr. Jones strode in and didn’t immediately pick up the rose bouquet from the set up near the front of the shop. Instead he walked over and leaned over the counter, watching Gideon work with curious eyes.

“What are you working on, lad?”

“A bouquet for the Hermans for Alexandra's horse thing. It’s mainly lady slipper orchids, white roses, calla lilies with some Queen Anne’s lace. Thought it would be appropriate for Cinderella’s daughter to get some slipper flowers. The neutral colors will compatible with the horse’s coloring if they decide to take photos with them,” Gideon responded, looking up from his work curiously. A faint blush covered his cheeks when he realized he probably just spewed off more information than Mr. Jones would care to know.

Mr. Jones nodded for a moment, looking thoughtful as he continued to watch Gideon work. It wasn’t normal for people to watch him aside from Grandpa Moe. Normally when people came to the shop they were too wrapped up in their own business and were trying to figure out which flower to choose to convey the right message than focus on what he was doing. Gideon felt fidgety under the attention, tugging a bit on his sleeves.

“You’re quite good at that. Snow and Emma won’t stop talking about the flowers you arranged for Ruthie’s birthday party.”

“Thank you,” Gideon replied, focusing all of his attention on the flowers because he wasn’t sure how else to act under the praise. “It was a bit of a no brainer though. Snowbells aren’t a traditional flower for arrangements but I couldn’t resist using them with baby’s breath and white hydrangeas. It’s always good to hear that my work is appreciated especially when Mrs. Nolan and Ruth are quite knowledgeable on flowers in their own right.”

“Well, considering you’re quite talented with flowers, I was hoping you would work on a special order for me,” Mr. Jones responded, tapping his fingers lightly on the glass display. It was a move that most people would view as a sign of irritation or annoyance, but Gideon recognized it was a nervous tick. Westley did the same thing whenever he felt anxious.

“No red roses today, Mr. Jones?” Gideon asked with a delicate frown.

“No, I’m getting the roses, however my anniversary with Emma is coming up in a few weeks and I was hoping you personally would work on some grand bouquet to mark the occasional. Is that quite alright with you?” Mr. Jones explained, quirking an eyebrow at Gideon in inquiry.

“Certainly,” Gideon replied, his face now entirely red. “I would be honored. Do you have anything in mind? A certain flower you want me to use as a centerpiece? What flowers did Mrs. Jones have in her wedding bouquet?”

“Snowbells were used in the wedding if I remember correctly, but I’m not quite certain on that. I don’t have anything in mind, you have a full carte blanche as long as you don’t use red roses. I give them to her all the time. This…this needs to be special. You can do that, right?”

“Absolutely,” Gideon replied with a wide smile, nearly humming with excitement over the mere thought of having a carte blanche project where he was allowed to let his creativity run wild. His fingers were already itching to write out the ideas already formulating in his mind. It would be the best project.

Until it wasn’t.

Two weeks later, Gideon was leaning over his workbench in the back of the shop looking over at least fifteen different types of flowers, all various shades of blue and white. He knew he wanted to incorporate forget-me-nots and snowbells, but neither of those made for great base flowers. White camellias? Avalanche roses? Blue hydrangeas? Lilies? He had too many flowers and too many different ideas.

As he was debating the merits of using white hydrangeas instead of blue, the front door of the shop opened and slammed with a loud clatter, the shop bell ringing so hard that it sounded more like an alarm than a merry announcement of a new customer. Gideon frowned. It was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday evening in September. Unless someone’s birthday was tomorrow and someone was coming in for a last minute floral arrangement, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would be in the shop so late in the day.

Curious of who had just entered the shop, Gideon straightened the front of his apron and walked calmly out of the backroom and to greet them.

Elizabeth Jones, Storybrooke’s very own human epitome of a hurricane, was braced against the door breathily heavily. Her hair was more wild than usual, her haphazardly tied braid falling loose and rogue strands curling in every direction. The bottom hems of her jeans were frayed, ripped and caked with dirt while an unidentified liquid was smeared across the front of her tank up. An angry bruise was blooming to life across her left cheek and Gideon couldn’t help but be concerned at the sight of it. He stepped forward from behind the counter.

“Elizabeth, are you okay?” he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Elizabeth’s eyes snapped towards him and she looked startled to him standing there. She bit her lip, which was more subconscious habit than anything else. Her fingers immediately went to the fish hook that was hung around her neck by a silver chain, a gift from her father if Gideon remembered correctly.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, promptly ignoring his question.

“I work here,” Gideon answered simply.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what I do. Now answer my question, Elizabeth. Are you okay?” he asked again, slightly annoyed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. And no one calls me Elizabeth, you know? It’s Beth, you weirdo,” Elizabeth responded with a roll of her eyes, a typical pre-teen move that Gideon himself had pulled many a times in his life.

“The big shiner says otherwise,” he responded, ignoring the nickname comment. There was no way in hell he was calling her by her preferred nickname, especially not when he could get her so riled up with it. It drove her and Robin Mills nuts to be called by their first names.

Gideon leaned back against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest, giving her a somewhat disappointed look. He had seen Mr. Jones take this pose many times with Elizabeth, and she normally wilted and gave in to whatever demand he was asking for when he did.

“Oh this?” Elizabeth pointed to the nasty looking bruise. “That’s nothing. Jamie Whale called Ruthie fat and made her cry, so I couldn’t let it stand. He looks worse than me. I know how to fight you know.”

Gideon let out a low whistle. Jamie Whale was three years older than her and was much larger than the small, scrawny Elizabeth. He had at least a good eighty pounds on her. Though, Elizabeth was scrappy and probably the toughest eleven-year old that Gideon had the pleasure of knowing. He had seen her put her brothers in headlocks before. However, there was a bigger difference between actual fighting and sibling squabbles.

“You shouldn’t be fighting people who are bigger than you,” Gideon admonished her with a sigh.

“Then I wouldn’t be fighting anyone at all,” Elizabeth replied, once more rolling her eyes. One of these days her eyes were going to fall out of her sockets, Gideon was sure of it.

“And what a pity that would be,” he responded with faint amusement.

“You sound like Grandpa David,” Elizabeth responded absent-mindedly, pushing away from the door and looking around the shop. “Are you sure you want to work here? It seems a bit girly...”

Gideon bristled a bit at the comment.

“Flowers might be…feminine, but it’s quite relaxing to work with them. Why do you play with swords? Aren’t those too manly for you?” Gideon asked in return, arching an eyebrow at her as he mentioned Elizabeth’s love for swordplay. The girl spent an unnerving amount of time around sharp pointy objects for someone her age.

“I don’t play with swords,” Elizabeth responded, folding her arms in front of her chest and glowering at him in a fashion that was so familiar to her mother when she was scolding him and Westley that Gideon nearly did a double take. “I practice with them, so I can fight bad guys someday like Mom and Dad do. And just because I’m a girl that doesn’t mean I can’t like fighting with swords.”

“And just because I’m a guy that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy working with flowers,” Gideon responded, gesturing towards Elizabeth with one hand as he made his way back behind the counter. “Catching my point here, my young apprentice?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Elizabeth replied impatiently with yet another roll of her eyes. “I get it. Boys can like girl things and girls can like boy things because it’s all just things. Mom gave me that lecture like two nights ago.”

“Good, good,” Gideon couldn’t help but smirk at her. “It’s a good lesson to learn, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.

“If you’re not able to drive, then you’re a kid. Unless you somehow got your license without me knowing. But then again, this is you we are talking about. You probably could just bat your eyes at someone and they would forge one for you.”

“That’s not true and you only have your permit, so you’re a kid too.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Gideon replied with some amusement. “Out of curiosity, does that attitude of yours ever get you in trouble? Is that why you’re hiding in the shop? Who did you piss off? Jamie Whale?”

“I wouldn’t run from Jamie Whale,” Elizabeth scoffed. “I kicked him in the nads and he went down like a domino. No, I’m hiding from Grandma Snow.”

Gideon couldn’t stop his eyebrows from rising to his hairline even if he wanted to. He leaned forward against the glass counter and looked at her with piqued interest. Snow White was a lovely person and incredibly doting to her children and grandchildren, however she did have a habit of trying to make her daughter and granddaughter as feminine as possible. Naturally, Elizabeth, who had wanted to be a pirate the minute she popped out of the womb, wasn’t necessarily on board with anything pink, glittery or involving lace. It made Sunday nights at Granny’s entertaining.

“Your grandmother is a wonderful person who feeds me pie and she always has your best interest at heart. I’m sure it would make her day if you wore some pink abomination at least once.”

“It wasn’t just pink!” Elizabeth protested, flailing her arms in emphasis of her distress. “It was pink and it had glitter AND ruffles! And it was a dress! I would rather eat raw codfish than wear it!”

“Ah. Say no more. One of the seals of the Apocalypse would break and hellfire would rain down on us if, heaven forbid, you wore a pink, sparkly, ruffled….do I dare say it?...ah yes, dress,” Gideon replied, doing his best to hide his smile.

“You’re making fun of me,” Elizabeth scowled.

“Just a little bit,” Gideon responded, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together in order to give her some visual aid to just how much he was making fun of her.

“Wearing a dress wouldn’t make you any less of a bad ass,” Gideon said to her gently. “I mean, I’m pretty sure wearing a dress wouldn’t stop you from taking down Jamie Whale with a swift kick to his gentlemanly bits and regardless of your choice of outfit, you will forever be the pirate princess of Storybrooke. Nothing will take that away.”

“Pirate queen, Gideon, pirate queen. Princesses don’t have much power, queens do,” she replied with a scoff, but she shifted the way her arms were folded across her body. It looked more like she was hugging herself rather than crossing her arms in anger. Dare he say it, but Elizabeth Jones looked almost…vulnerable in a way Gideon had never seen her since she was a squalling baby. “I just don’t like to wear them.”

“And why is that, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth didn’t immediately respond. She merely looked at him with a look that was so intense that he felt lasers would going to emit from her eyeballs and melt him on the spot. Gideon shifted a bit under the look, resting his elbows against the counter.

“Do you promise not to tell?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

“I promise,” he replied just as quietly.

“Do you pinky swear?” She made it sound like he was swearing in to be put on trial.

Gideon leaned more forward until the glass case cut into his stomach. He extended out his arm and offered Elizabeth his pinky. She looked at it with a solemn expression for a moment before lacing her much smaller pinky finger around his. Their fingers were locked for a brief moment then she pulled away and Gideon leaned back to get more comfortable.

“I don’t like how they make me feel...All naked and weird...Wes skirted me one time after Henry’s graduation ceremony and everyone saw my underwear and people laughed.”

“Your brother can be a butt sometimes, huh?” Gideon said with a sympathetic smile.

As much as he wanted to stick up for his best friend, he couldn’t deny that skirting Elizabeth was something Westley would absolutely do and if Elizabeth was as young as Gideon remembered her being when it happened, it would definitely be something that would mentally scar her. Gideon loved Westley dearly, but there was no denying that he had his asshole moments.

“Just sometimes?” Elizabeth snorted. “More like all the time.”

“Look, I am sympathetic to your…for a lack of a better term��your plight. You can stay at the flower shop as long as you like. I might be here late anyway. I’m working on a project for your Dad and I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do make it as grand as he wants,” Gideon said as he raked a hand through his hair.

Elizabeth frowned at him.

“You’re working on something for Dad? My dad actually comes here?”

“You kidding? Your dad is our best customer. He buys roses for your mom constantly. I’m working on your parents’ anniversary bouquet right now actually,” he responded. He then smiled as a brilliant idea blossomed to life in his mind. “In fact, want to help me with it?”

“I don’t know anything about flowers, Gid,” Elizabeth responded, shaking her head.

“But I do and that’s all we need. Come on, I need some fresh eyes,” he said, opening the little small divider between the shop and the section behind the counter.

He gestured for her to join him in the back room. Elizabeth let out a loud dramatic sigh and followed him. Gideon watched her green eyes go wide as she took in the various times of flowers that were overflowing his work station. He chuckled a bit.

“That’s a lot of flowers...what exactly am I looking at and what do you need?” Elizabeth asked.

“What you have in front of you is fifteen different types of flowers. White camellias. White avalanche roses. White germini. White hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. Alstroemeria. Ranunculus. Bleeding hearts. Calla lilies. Delphiniums. Muscari flowers. Baby’s breath. Forget-me-not blues. Snowbell. Snowball viburnum.” Gideon could list them off in his sleep.

“And what do you need me to do?” Elizabeth asked, tilting her head to the side, her eyes bouncing between the flowers and Gideon.

“Elizabeth, I have fifteen flower choices for the bouquet and I need to narrow it down to six,” Gideon gestured to the table. “I need you to pick out four that you think should got into the bouquet.”

“I thought you needed six...?” Beth responded with a frown, tugging her hair behind her ear and looking at him with a puzzled look.

“It’s a six flower bouquet, you’re right, but I’ve already picked out two flowers that absolutely need to be in the final set and I actually picked them out as specialty for this bouquet,” Gideon responded, gathering a few stems of a pale blue petite flower that Elizabeth didn’t see anywhere else in the shop. “Forget-me-nots and snowbells. They’re not centerpiece flowers by any means, neither of them are traditionally bouquet flowers since they’re both wild and fragile but with a bit of magic, none of that matters. They’re too important not to be included.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m not sure, given the nature of your father’s characterization in the novel, if you’ve read Peter Pan, but forget-me-not flowers are used by Barrie to describe the color of your father’s eyes and since this bouquet is an anniversary gift from your father to your mother, I felt that it was prudent to use them since the use of their description is quite accurate.”

Mr. Jones had very blue eyes. Gideon had only noticed though because Westley had the same unnaturally beautiful eyes. He wanted Mrs. Jones to immediately think of those eyes when she saw the bouquet.

“And the snowbells?” Elizabeth asked, nodding her head towards the untouched white buds.

“Well, you weren’t alive to see it, but snowbells were in your mother’s original wedding bouquet. It seems to be a running trend in your family - a love for snowbells. It would be a florist’s sin not to use them for an anniversary.”

Elizabeth nodded, offering no verbal response. Her green eyes were trained on the table, looking at all of her options. She placed the forget-me-nots back on the table next to the cluster of snowbells. She tapped her fingers against the table, much like her father had done two weeks prior, as she weighed all the choices silently. It was a brief moment before she picked up the white avalanche roses.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a bouquet without roses before. And roses mean love, right?” she asked, looking at Gideon with a bit of uncertainty.

“Roses have different meanings depending on the color to be honest, though most of those meanings involved love. Red roses are the most popular and they normally convey deep emotions like love or admiration,” Gideon started, scratching behind his ear as he began to lecture. “However, yellow roses are often used to symbolize friendship and caring. White roses, the ones you pick, are generally associated with new beginnings and innocence. Often used for weddings bouquets. I doubt either of your parents care much about the meanings behind flowers though, so don’t let that sway your judgement.”

“Well okay, but weddings and white roses…I think that’s a good choice then,” Elizabeth muttered as she placed the avalanche roses next to the other two flowers.

She went back to studying the table again before she picked up some blue hydrangeas and two stems of bleeding hearts.

“What about these? Which one would you choose?”

“Honestly? I would pick both because they’re entirely different shades of blue and different sizes. Hydrangeas in my experience are good flowers to make a bouquet look full and they come in rather intense shades. I grew those hydrangeas personally. The key to that blue is aluminum. Most florists buy high alkaline fertilizer and soil and just use that. I also bury aluminum cans and nails to help make the color pop,” Gideon smiled. “I actually discovered that trick in a detective novel. Sue Grafton and her Kinsey Milhone series. Fun read, that.”

Elizabeth gave him an amused look and Gideon realized for a moment that he had been rambling on about flowers, books and the like again. His cheeks grew a bit warm and looked away for a moment, slightly embarrassed that he had been so caught up in his own interests.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much before in my life,” she commented with a small smile.

“Well, it’s not like we hang out around each other much. That would be a bit weird considering you’re like a little kid. I’ve got like what? Five years on you? Yeah…I was almost five when you were born. You were even tiny then. Made a lot of noise too. Though, you are pretty cool for a munchkin, I must admit.”

“Not a munchkin,” she muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare.

“Right, sorry,” Gideon replied, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Silence fell between them for a moment. Elizabeth looked down at the hydrangeas and the bleeding hearts in her hands thoughtfully. Gideon waited, welcoming the quiet. Most people found lulls in conversation awkward, but he found them relaxing. It allowed him to think and fully digest the content of the conservation had previously.

“What do hydrangeas mean?” she asked after a brief period.

“Like I said before, your parents probably aren’t knowledgeable on flower language so it doesn't matter but hydrangeas have various meanings depending on what bouquet they’re in. Sometimes they express vanity and boastfulness, but most view them as expressing heartfelt emotions, gratefulness and understanding. Most florists agree that they’re a fourth wedding anniversary flower that is meant to represent enduring grace and beauty,” Gideon replied.

The corners of his lips tugging up faintly. He liked during hydrangeas, they were an easy flower to grow, came in various colors and always made arrangements look fuller than they actually were. They were basically a staple in his arrangements.

“And the bleeding hearts?”

Gideon ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

“Another flower with a lot of different meanings,” he started. “Sometimes they mean that the giver and receiver have a connection that goes beyond life and death. Sometimes it mean that the emotions between the two are very open and earnest...But most of the time, they are meant to symbolize passion...very deep passion...a specific type of passion…”

“You mean sex,” Elizabeth stated bluntly.

Gideon felt his jaw drop as Elizabeth gave him an unimpressed look, both eyebrows raised.

“What?” Gideon couldn’t believe what he had just heard. This was Westley’s kid sister; his eleven-year old kid sister. He didn't know how to respond. What was an appropriate response when an eleven-year old mentioned sex?

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“I’m in the fifth grade, Gideon, I know what sex is. I’m not stupid.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered under his breath, bringing his hands up to his face. He just wanted to get away from this suddenly uncomfortable conversation and was silently praying that the floor would just open up and swallow him.

“Seriously, you know my brothers, how could I not know? I’m pretty even Neddy knows what it is and he’s six,” she continued.

Gideon couldn’t take it anymore. He placed his hand over her mouth. Elizabeth glared at him viciously and immediately licked his palm in response, hoping that he would remove it. That trick would have probably worked anyone else except Gideon Gold, who was best friends with Westley Jones who was all types of disgusting at times. Palm licking didn’t phase him.

“We’re stopping this conversation right now,” he said firmly. “We have reached a ‘Do not pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars’ point. When I remove my hand, we’re going to go back to talking about flowers...Got it?”

She continued to glare him but when she realized that he had no intentions of removing his hand until she agreed, she gave a stiff but subtle nod. He removed his hand and brusquely wiped his palm against his apron.

“So...blue hydrangeas and bleeding hearts?” he asked, nodding at the flowers in her hands.

“Yeah, I like them, even though you’re weird about the bleeding hearts,” Elizabeth responded.

“Alright, one flower left to pick and we’ve got three blue and two whites so far. Since we have already a large white in the avalanche roses, I’m gonna suggest you go with a simpler kind of white flower to keep the symmetry. Maybe the snowball viburnum or the baby’s breath.”

“Baby’s breath,” Elizabeth said firmly, placing the bleeding hearts and hydrangeas down next to the roses, forget-me-nots and snowbells. She reached for the simple sprigs of baby’s breath and placed them next to the others.

“You’re not going to ask me what they mean?” Gideon asked with a small smile.

“No, because they probably mean something dirty in flower language and you’re a wimp and can’t handle it,” Elizabeth replied, giving him a far too dry look for an eleven-year old. He had no doubts that she learned that one from either her brothers or her parents.

He sighed.

“Well, we have ourselves a bouquet, Elizabeth. Nice job. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your eye is almost as good as mine,” Gideon said, deciding to ignore her jab. “You’ve got quite the knack. You should put flower arrangements down on your resume next to sword fighting and nad kicking.”

“My what?” Elizabeth frowned, looking a bit confused.

“Let me get this straight, you know what sex is but you don’t know what a resume is?” Gideon asked in disbelief.

“What’s a resume?” she asked, still puzzled.

Gideon groaned and brought his hand up to his face and sighed heavily. He could feel a migraine coming on.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “The priorities of the youth.”

When he had arranged the flowers to both his and Elizabeth’s liking, Gideon was satisfied with how aesthetically pleasing it was. If Mr. and Mrs. Jones didn’t like it, he would eat his own foot. When he arrived home, he was still so pleased with the outcome of his and Elizabeth’s work that not even his father’s passive aggressive remarks about the flower shop bothered him that evening.

His excitement continued into the next morning and Grandpa Moe gave him a puzzled look when he walked into the shop, whistling a nameless tune and smiling as he went about his morning routine of fixing the shop up for opening. He took the bouquet out from the back room and placed it in the glass display behind the counter, taking a moment to give it an extra magic kick to keep the flowers fresh and strong. Considering how much magic Gideon had put into the flowers already, he wouldn’t be surprised if they remained in good health for another two months.

His grin grew when the shop door open, bell merrily ringing, and Mr. Jones swaggered in. Without so much of a greeting, Gideon immediately turned around and grabbed the bouquet out of the display, placing it on the counter. Mr. Jones’s eyes lit up with understanding and he stared at the bouquet with wonderment.

“Is this...is this it?” he asked, gesturing to the flowers.

“Yeah, it is,” Gideon confirmed with a nod of his head. “Will it do?”

“It’s gorgeous, she’s going to love it!” Mr. Jones said breathlessly, not taking his eyes off the large bouquet. “Well done, lad.”

“I had some help…” Gideon admitted with a small laugh. “Elizabeth came by the shop last night, hiding from Mrs. Nolan and she helped me pick out the flowers.”

“Elizabeth?” Mr. Jones looked confused for a moment, blinking slowly. It took him a moment, but Gideon watched as recognition crossed his face. “You mean Beth? My Beth? My Beth helped you with flowers?”

“Yes, your daughter has an eye for flowers,” Gideon chuckled.

“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” Mr. Jones chuckled, fishing out his wallet. “How much do I owe you, lad?”

Gideon knew the price. He had put a lot of thought into it, writing down the cost of each flower and the amount of time that went into the arrangement. He had calculated it all last night before he had left the shop. It was on the tip of his tongue, but something inside of him refused to say it.

“Nothing,” he blurted out. “You owe nothing.”

Mr. Jones looked at him in puzzlement.

“What do you mean? I must owe you something. It looks incredibly expensive. I have no issue with whatever price you name.”

It was an expensive bouquet. Beth had not chosen cheap flowers, but Grandpa Moe’s words about investing in customers and treating them right rang in the back of his head. In the four months that he worked in the flower shop, Mr. Jones was the most frequent customer with his bimonthly roses.

“Mr. Jones, you always come in here. You’re our most loyal customer and you always leave us something in the tip jar, which no one else does. It’s your anniversary and your daughter did kinda do my job yesterday for me, so you don’t owe anything. It’s free. I refuse to accept payment. Your money is no good for that bouquet.”

Mr. Jones stared at him intensely but Gideon stood his ground and stared back. He felt like Mr. Jones was mentally drilling a hole into his head, but he didn’t want to back down.

“You feel really strongly about this, don’t you lad?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yes,” Gideon said firmly.

“Very well,” he said, letting out another heavy breath and picking up the flowers. “Thank you, Gideon, but don’t ever do this again, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr. Jones,” Gideon replied with a broad grin.

“You can stop me from paying this time,” Mr. Jones said casually and Gideon suddenly realized that he hadn’t put his wallet away. “But you can’t stop me from tipping.”

Gideon’s eyes went wide as Mr. Jones took three fifty-dollar bills out his wallet and placed them in the tip jar with a mischievous smile. Gideon was so stunned by the action that he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything as Mr. Jones gave him a wink and an almost mocking salute before walking out the door. He had been thoroughly outmaneuvered and Gideon couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh as he eyed the hundred and fifty dollars that now sat in the jar. The old man still had some pirate left to him after all.

#captain swan #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #ouat ff #ouat fanfiction #cs babies #little pirates #my shit #my fic #snowbells and forget-me-nots #flowershop!gideon is my favorite thing #beth jones is sassy #killian fucking loves his wife more than anything #little pirates fic

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rachelkaser · 4 years ago

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Stay Golden Sunday: Rose the Prude

Rose starts a new chapter of her life in her first starring episode, and Golden Girls has its first frank, serious discussion about our ladies’ sex lives.

Picture It...

Dorothy and Sophia are playing a game of gin rummy on the lanai, when Blanche comes out with a problem -- her date has unexpectedly invited his brother and she needs to find a fourth person to make it a double. She asks Dorothy (and gently rebuffs a willing Sophia), but Dorothy is determined to win a game of gin against her mother after 30 years of losses.

Rose comes out to the lanai, and Blanche immediately asks her to go on the double-date. Rose initially resists, as she’s lost interest in dating since her husband Charlie died 15 years ago, but relents when Blanche pleads. Rose complains that dating isn’t fun, whereas Dorothy will have fun beating her mother at cards. Sophia of course lays down a winning hand at that remark.

That night, Blanche returns from the date just as Dorothy takes another loss. At Blanche’s remark that playing gin obviously makes her upset, Dorothy refuses to play with Sophia anymore. Sophia knows that’s not going to last long.

SOPHIA: You’ll be back. You know why? You’re too competitive. It’s always been your worst feature. Actually, your ears are your worst feature. But competitive is right up there!

When a delighted Rose walks in, Dorothy asks how the date went, and Rose effuses that she had a great time with her beau Arnie. Blanche’s date, Jeffrey, turned out to be a bore. Rose is going on another date with Arnie, while Blanche has to be reminded that she knows many other more interesting men.

Later, the girls notice that Rose and Arnie (played by future recurring cast member Harold Gould) are becoming very close, but Rose is distressed. Arnie’s asked her to go away on a romantic cruise -- and Rose hasn’t been intimate with anyone since Charlie, her only lover, died. Dorothy and Blanche encourage her to go on the cruise, and give herself the chance.

Rose is a bundle of nerves in the stateroom, though Arnie tries to put her at ease by slow-dancing to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade.” This brings back memories of Charlie, and Rose starts telling Arnie that he reminds her of Charlie. Arnie reminds her that he isn’t Charlie, and Rose says she likes him for who he is. But one kiss and Rose is running to the bathroom like a scared rabbit.

Back at home, the girls are speculating on how Rose is doing, and discuss how long it took them after their respective husbands died or left for them to get back on the wagon. Blanche made eyes at the minister performing her husband’s funeral service, though the consummation left something to be desired. Dorothy hooked up with her divorce lawyer, and comments that it was a terrible time for her. To demonstrate to Blanche how the ravages of age take their toll, she tells her to lean over a mirror and look at her own face. Blanche is suitably horrified.

The next morning, Rose apologizes to Arnie for chickening out. Arnie understands and relates his own struggles with grief after his wife Molly died. He eventually got on with his life when his daughter pointed out that’s what Molly would have wanted. Rose concedes Charlie would probably want the same for her. Arnie tells her he’s alright with whatever makes her comfortable, and she tentatively asks him to hold her.

Meanwhile, Sophia admits to Dorothy she never played gin for the game, but because she likes the conversation they have while they play. Rose returns, Blanche and Sophia want to interrogate her on whether she fooled around, but it’s Dorothy who breaks first and asks her outright. Rose plays coy, but then reveals they did -- and she’s overjoyed that she can move on to the next part of her romantic life. The episode ends with Dorothy and Sophia playing cards, swapping stories.

“Oh back off, Blanche. Not all of us are classified by the Navy as a friendly port.”

After Blanche and Dorothy had their own spotlight episodes, it’s time for Rose to have her moment in the sun. GG does this neat little trick of assigning subject matter to the character who, at the surface, doesn’t necessarily seem best suited to it -- and then making it work anyway. So it’s fitting that the first episode that seriously addresses sex is a Rose-centric episode.

One of the things Golden Girls has always been (rightly) lauded for is the way it handles sexual and romantic topics, especially as they pertain to seniors. After all, your life doesn’t end just because you get old, or are widowed, and this show handles that with grace and honesty. Well, with Blanche the “grace” part is questionable, but you take my meaning.

While later revelations show that Rose might be far more experienced than Blanche given how close she and Charlie were (and, according to Betty White, Rue McClanahan enjoyed pointing that out behind the scenes), the first impression she’s given on the show is rather chaste compared to Blanche. Add in that she’s also a widow, and it makes her the perfect candidate for an episode about putting yourself back out there and moving on with your life.

If there’s one thing about this episode that looks especially pleasant through a modern lens, it’s the gentle way both the girls and Arnie talk to Rose about her sex life (Blanche’s shock over her 15-year dry spell notwithstanding). Dorothy doesn’t tell her to sleep with Arnie, but to go on the cruise and at least give herself the option -- she can always back out if the situation isn’t right. And they outright cheer for her when she confirms she did play “find the cannoli.” The show offers many examples of how a healthy, supportive friendship should work, and this is one of the first and strongest.

Arnie, for his part, is a total gentleman: He doesn’t push Rose, does his best to make her comfortable, and sympathizes with her feelings for her late husband. In short, he behaves exactly the way Rose needs her paramour to behave if she’s going to get her groove back on her terms. It’s kind of wonderful to watch, even if one does cringe at Arnie saying he “patted a few bottoms” while married. 80s mentality, Rachel, 80s mentality.

This is the first time the show has had a B-plot to keep the non-spotlight characters busy. Blanche serves her part in the A-plot, the one about Rose and Arnie, by setting it in motion. This leaves Sophia and Dorothy without much to do, so they have their own story centering around their longstanding rummy rivalry.

This is the episode where Sophia first gets to show her teeth – you can definitely see where Dorothy gets her’s from. Up to now she’s been a sort of caustic side character who existed to puncture dramatic moments with a comment she didn’t realize was too blunt. Here we get our first real glimpse of her as the witty, clever, somewhat devious woman we all know and love.

The timing is a little bit wonky, as they keep repeating throughout the episode that Rose has been a widow for 15 years, while the other girls’ marriages have only been over for a few years. Given Rose is roughly Dorothy’s age, she either married around the same age as Dorothy (not likely) or her marriage was much shorter than she’s led anyone to believe, but at the beginning she says she a “long and happy marriage.” But that’s a relatively minor quibble, even for me.

Episode rating: Three cheesecakes out of five... maybe I can make emoji work? 🍰🍰🍰

Favorite Part of the Episode

DOROTHY: Only on your back, Blanche. That way everything slides back and you look like you just had a facelift. BLANCHE: (leaning back and looking up at her mirror) Oh, you’re right. I’m gorgeous. I’m going to have to meet men lying down. SOPHIA: I thought you did.

#stay golden sunday #golden girls #stay golden #rose nylund #dorothy zbornak #sophia petrillo #blanche devereaux #s01e03 #rose the prude

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one-of-us-blog · 7 years ago

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The Accurate Conception (TGG, Season 5, Episode 3)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap The Accurate Conception, Episode 3 of the fifth season of The Golden Girls. Blanche receives some news from her daughter, but doesn’t handle it well. Will her friends help her to get with the times, or will Blanche risk losing her child (and grandchild) forever? Keep reading to find out…

Jon, I’m not going to let you go, especially after you did such a spectacular job of reviewing The Name of the Doctor! My own recap is so late because I’ve spent the weekend searching for a way to save you, and at last I think I’ve found it. I was visited in a dream by a vision of your beloved dog, Q, and was led to a secret subterranean lair in which I discovered a window into your personal time stream. I dare not reveal its actual location, but upon waking I immediately began retracing these steps. With great difficulty, I have at last made my way to this strange chamber. I will now leap into your time stream, protecting you from all the past and future perils of the world, and ensuring that the toxic rocket that led to your downfall never makes it off the ground. Before I go, I present this recap in case I do not return. But I pledge that you will make it out of this, Cap. Blog, you clever boy…and remember.

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Gail Parent, directed by Terry Hughes

The girls are preparing breakfast, and we learn that Blanche was up late into the night having a great time talking to her daughter, Becky. Another mother/daughter relationship isn’t faring quite as well at the moment, as Dorothy is insisting that Sophia have her necessary medical checkup, and Sophia is refusing to do so. Blanche takes breakfast out to the lanai to bond with Becky, and Sophia says that she wants to bond with Dorothy as well. Dorothy agrees to take Sophia out for some quality time rather than taking her to the doctor, but Sophia knows that she is being scammed, like a dog being taken to the vet with promises of the park. Blanche and Becky have a great time on the lanai, until Becky drops her bombshell. She wants a baby, so on Monday she is getting artificially inseminated. Blanche immediately hates the idea and objects strongly, but Becky insists that she will be doing this with or without her mother’s support. Blanche attempts to lay on a guilt trip about everything she has done for her daughter, but references to a governess decrease the dramatic effect somewhat.

Blanche stays up late pigging out, and the other gals join her (Sophia with purse in hand, as usual). Blanche tells them what is happening, and the reaction…isn’t exactly great; Rose and Dorothy both get the shivers in repulsion. They attempt to look on the bright side, and launch into a discussion of the current status of sperm in the world. Update: There is still loads of the stuff available. Sophia wants to talk about the fun of making a baby the old-fashioned way, but Dorothy isn’t eager to hear about her lusty father behind the garbage cans (Note: Don’t worry, Dorothy, as we recently learned, these probably aren’t your birth parents being discussed anyway). Rose says that all of her children were conceived on St. Olaf holidays, and Dorothy reveals that she wasn’t even conscious for the conception of her children. Blanche isn’t moved, and insists that at least each of these methods was natural.

In a brief scene, we jump ahead to Becky arriving at the house. Blanche is doing her best to act happy, but she still has concerns she wants to share with Becky. The two end up arguing again, and Becky tells Blanche that she is about to lose both her, and her future grandchild from her life.

We move to the kitchen for another scene, in which Dorothy reveals that she has scheduled a physical for Sophia, and Sophia states that she is still unwilling to go. Blanche is feeling sad, and mentions that Becky learned that there is a sperm bank nearby and wants Blanche to go with her. It is important to her to have her mother be accepting of this step. Dorothy offers to go along to lend moral support, and so does Rose. Sophia isn’t about to miss her chance to step inside a sperm bank, so she jumps on board too. Dorothy, sensing her mother’s excitement, says that Sophia can only come to the sperm bank if she sees her doctor first. This trip is settled! But what to wear to a sperm bank?

As soon as the girls arrive at the bank, Blanche begins to feel judged. Sophia, who has now already seen her doctor, starts chatting up donors. Rose tells the story of a brave little sperm crossing the vast ocean to impregnate a wife while the husband was away, but thankfully it is time to talk to the doctor before the girls have to set her straight.

In his office, the doctor gives the girls a rundown of the process that will be employed to impregnate a Becky (and being married to one, with a couple of kids, I have a few pointers on the topic, hey-o). Blanche has some questions, but mostly she’s still just indignant that someone would pay for sperm. She’s a Devereaux, damn it, and has “always depended on the kindness of strangers!” The girls leave, but not before Sophia asks if there are any spare samples of Tony Bennett sitting around.

Back at home, Becky is preparing to leave, while Blanche is still stubbornly sunning on the lanai. The girls tell Blanche that kids (and especially adult kids) need to be able to make their own decisions, and that she risks never seeing her daughter or her grandchild again. Blanche gets real, and says that the issue is really a matter of control. She knows that she is wrong, but it’s so hard to tell your child that you’re sorry. Thankfully, Becky overhears this, and Blanche is able to struggle through an apology (via Dorothy). She offers to take Becky to the airport and help to think of baby names. Perhaps things aren’t so bad after all.

The End.

This was a good episode, even if it was a bit of a step down from the excellent two-parter that kicked off the season. There were some good jokes here, and I liked the parallel mother/daughter stories between Blanche/Becky and Sophia/Dorothy. I understand the need for Blanche’s objections to artificial insemination in order to tell a story, but I kind of wish that Rose and Dorothy hadn’t been so grossed out when asked about it. Oh well. My 11-year-old daughter has been asking to watch the show along with me, so for me the most interesting aspect was the questions that this particular episode led to in our living room. I don’t have much else to say, but I give The Accurate Conception a score of 3.5 poofy hairdos out of 5!

Join us soon, when I desperately hope that Jon will be able to share his thoughts on The Night of the Doctor, a Doctor Who mini-sode that precedes the 50th anniversary special. And I should be back early in the week with my take on Rose Fights Back, the next episode of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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one-of-us-blog · 7 years ago

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Little Sister (TGG, Season 4, Episode 21)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap Little Sister, Episode 21 of the fourth season of The Golden Girls. When Rose is visited by her less-than-beloved little sister and Sophia is visited by the lovable pooch Dreyfuss, things don’t go exactly as planned. Can Rose withstand the betrayal of a backstabbing sibling? Can Sophia contend with the responsibilities of dogsitting? Keep reading to find out…

Jon, I would have posted my recap yesterday, but when I attempted to upload it to the web I logged on to a neighbor’s wi-fi signal, and soon found myself trapped within a cyberprison of some sort. Since that is one of the well-known dangers of using wi-fi (as everyone knows), I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was. Nevertheless, I’m no jockey, so it took me a while to jack out before I got geeked. I was very pleasantly surprised to learn upon my return to the fleshworld that your recap of The Bells of Saint John was so good! I agree that the plot is pretty silly, so I’m not going to go out of my way defending this episode. Hopefully you’ll enjoy Jenna Coleman’s time in the TARDIS enough to make up for some questionable plots. At any rate, keep up the great work! For now, I have my own episode to cover, so let’s head to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Christopher Lloyd, directed by Terry Hughes

As the episode opens, Dorothy is lounging on the couch with a sad expression on her face, when she is joined unexpectedly by Dreyfuss the dog. Oh boy, we have another Empty Nest crossover on our hands! Sophia tells her daughter that she agreed to dog sit for a while, but Dorothy isn’t happy about this development. She doesn’t believe her mother can be trusted with the responsibility. Not to be denied, Sophia employs a guilt trip until Dorothy relents. Still, Dreyfuss will be Sophia’s responsibility entirely. Blanche is escorted home by a gentleman (we’ll assume for now), and bids farewell to Gary the funeral home owner. Rose also returns home, with the news that her little sister Holly is coming for a visit. Unfortunately, this isn’t exactly welcome news, and Rose is pretty wound up about it. She even employs some of Dorothy’s signature sarcasm against her. Basically, she hates her little sister. When Holly does show up, however, she introduces herself with compliments and makes a great impression on everyone else.

We jump ahead in time a bit, and Sophia is searching the kitchen for Dreyfuss. She has no idea where he is, and she needs Blanche to help her out. Dorothy can’t know about this, however, or she’ll never trust Sophia again. Meanwhile, in the living room, Gary returns to drop off Blanche’s earrings, but he takes a moment alone with Rose to make a move on her. Rose tells him off just before Blanche walks in, oblivious to Gary’s wandering eye (and groin). Gary departs, and Blanche lets Rose know that she really likes Holly. In fact, the two of them went to dinner together near Rose’s workplace. When Rose wonders why she wasn’t invited, she learns that Holly claims to have attempted to call her unsuccessfully. Just then, Dorothy returns from a shopping trip with Holly, and the two are having a great time. Heck, Dorothy even likes Holly’s St. Olaf stories! The betrayal! They also mention that they picked up tickets to the theatre, but once again Rose was left out (due to an innocent mistake, of course). What is Holly playing at here?

Next, Sophia returns home with a duplicate Dreyfuss that she picked up from the pet store, as the real Dreyfuss is still at large. Or is he? Blanche reveals that Dreyfuss came home, and now Sophia is stuck with two dogs. She can’t take the other pooch back to the pet store for a few days, so when she hears Dorothy nearby, she hurriedly hides both dogs in her room. Unfortunately, she didn’t consider the fact that she will now be unable to tell them apart. Rose is mad, because Holly gave her incorrect directions for lunch, and is certain that Holly is doing these things intentionally. Dorothy and Blanche think she’s being paranoid, and that she needs to realize how great her sister is. Oh, by the way, Holly also left her out of movie plans. Oops. Left alone for the moment, Rose opens the door to the living room and catches her sister canoodling with Gary on the couch.

The girls are eating late that night, and Rose needs to have a talk with them about Holly. Dorothy and Blanche get mad and tell her to leave them out of her crusade against her sister. Sophia, however, gets the info out of her and gives Rose some advice. Basically, Holly’s true nature will surface sooner or later, so she should let the other girls learn about it themselves. Surprisingly, Sophia needs some advice too. She takes Rose to the garage to show her the two dogs, and asks her how she’ll be able to tell which one is Dreyfuss. Rose prepares herself, and utilizes an old farm technique: she calls Dreyfuss by his name, and he immediately runs to her. Problem solved, right?

It isn’t long before we learn that Gary has cancelled a date with Blanche, giving her a story about his mother’s emergency gall bladder surgery. However, as she is sitting on the couch with Dorothy, Dreyfuss emerges from the direction of the bedrooms with a pair of pants in his mouth. Apparently, Holly has some company. We know where this is all headed: Gary shows himself, and Blanche gets pissed. Rose walks in the front door just as everything is hitting the fan, and she takes Holly into the kitchen for a talking to from her big sister. Meanwhile, Dreyfuss (or somedoggy) chases Gary out the front door…but he’s keeping the pants.

Holly tells Rose that she’s going to leave, but Rose wants an explanation. Why does Holly keep doing these things? Holly throws out a line about never being as good as her big sister who has lots of friends, but that isn’t good enough for Rose. She tells Holly that she needs to stop using other people and looking out only for herself. They may be sisters, but they don’t have to be friends. She would like to be friends someday, but at this point Holly will have to make the first gesture. She tells her little sister goodbye, and that’s that. Returning to the living room, Dorothy and Blanche tell her that they are sorry for not believing her sooner. To wrap things up, Sophia is ready to take Dreyfuss home. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to be responding to his name. Oh boy. Maybe they can swing by the pet store on the way…

The End.

I wasn’t sure how I would feel at first, but I actually really liked this episode. It was consistently funny, and this even worked for me as a crossover that didn’t feel forced; then again, I’m a sucker for a good dog-centric episode (and some helpful farm wisdom). It was frustrating to see Dorothy and Blanche not sticking up for their friend or acknowledging her perspective, but I thought the ending made up for this. It would have been predictable for Holly to have a change of heart and for the sisters to make up, but I actually appreciated that Rose did what she had to for her own well-being and let Holly go. We are bound to encounter people who are toxic to our lives, and sometimes it’s hard to accept that cutting them loose is the only healthy way to move forward, as much as it might hurt. Anyway, I hope the right dog makes its way back to Dr. Harry Weston. I give Little Sister a score of 4 poofy hairdos out of 5.

Check back in soon, when Jon will be reviewing The Rings of Akhaten, the next episode of Doctor Who, and I’ll be back in a few days with my take on Sophia’s Choice, the next episode of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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one-of-us-blog · 8 years ago

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Sophia’s Wedding: Part 1 (TGG, Season 4, Episode 6)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap Sophia’s Wedding: Part 1, the beginning of a two-part story in the fourth season of The Golden Girls. When a beloved friend passes away and Sophia is forced to confront a figure from her past, can an old grudge possibly spark a new flame in her life? Keep reading to find out…

Well, this review is quite late, so I apologize! It goes without saying at this point that Jon did a fantastic job of recapping The Almost People, the conclusion of a two-part Doctor Who story arc, and now has some interesting episodes in front of him that will be very focused on the larger story of the Doctor and the Ponds. I’m eager to hear his thoughts, but I really need to get my own recap finished up, so let’s not waste any more time in heading to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan, directed by Terry Hughes

It’s here! The episode opens as Rose gets some exciting news in the mail. She has been granted permission to start an unauthorized chapter of the Elvis Presley fan club. Wait, once you get permission for something, is it still unauthorized? Anyway, Blanche becomes her first member and immediately makes a play for the role of president. Sophia has some less happy news. A childhood friend, Esther Weinstock, has passed away, but Sophia refuses to go to the funeral, as it would mean confronting Esther’s husband, Max. Apparently she has a long-standing grudge against the man for gambling away a shared business with her late husband, Sal. She has sworn a Sicilian oath regarding the matter, but Dorothy offering to pay for the airfare seems to be enough to negate this.

We cut to Brooklyn, where the funeral has wrapped up and Sophia is ready to hit the road. Well, after sampling some food, of course. Max Weinstock talks to Dorothy, and tries to talk to Sophia but gets an earful instead. He finally reveals an old secret, and we get a brief flashback to Brooklyn, 1949, in which we learn that it was in fact Sal who gambled away the business (a pizza and knish stand), and Max took the heat to cover for his friend and save Sal’s marriage. Sal had always wanted to come clean to Sophia, but Max wouldn’t let him. Realizing the truth, Sophia manages to apologize by way of complimenting the food. Max accepts, and the two embrace.

Back in Miami, a meeting of the Elvis fan club is underway, and Rose reveals a recently acquired sacred relic: a pork chop that was partially eaten by the King himself. Dorothy makes light of the holy artifact, and is promptly booted from the organization. She doesn’t seem too upset about this development, but will hopefully find a support group to help her overcome the disappointment. Instead of cleaning up after the meeting, the girls decide to go out to eat, and want to invite Sophia along. However, they make quite the discovery when they go to her room; Sophia is in bed with Max Weinstock, enjoying the “afterglow.” Max came to town the day before, and the two have already decided to get married. Dorothy feels lightheaded, and faints onto the bed of sin.

After she is revived, Dorothy demands an explanation for this development. Max and Sophia state simply that they have fallen in love, and want to get hitched right away. The two share a kiss, and Dorothy says that they are making a huge mistake. She storms out of the room, leaving the others behind.

In the next scene, Rose is in the kitchen sending out wedding invitations, while Blanche mentions that she wants to get an Elvis impersonator for the next club meeting. Dorothy enters the room, but doesn’t want to discuss the wedding. She just can’t give her blessing, as she feels her mother and Max have fallen in love far too quickly. Rose reveals that her Charlie proposed at the age at seven, but Rose held him off because she wanted to see the world, and even studied Latin in college at St. Gustav. Well, Pig Latin. Wait, I didn’t think Rose graduated from high school, but apparently she went to college? Anyway, Sophia also enters the kitchen to show off her dress, but claims that due to custom, she won’t be able to get married without Dorothy’s blessing. Dorothy still refuses, and doesn’t even cave to the threat of a Sicilian curse; she knows a Sicilian loophole that grants her immunity.

The wedding day arrives, and Sophia is locked in a bathroom. She declares that the wedding is off, and delivers a heartfelt speech about her feelings through the door, and it is clear that she is broken-hearted. Dorothy is just about to buckle when a wedding organizer gives her a talking to on behalf of all the waiting guests (more on them in a moment). Dorothy talks to her mother, and tells the truth about the complicated feeling she had about the way this new relationship made her feel about her departed father. But she wants her mother to be happy, and finally gives her blessing. Sophia emerges and hugs her daughter. After one last group hug, it’s time to get started. Places, everyone!

In the living room (because everything takes place here at the house), we discover that the wedding is being attended exclusively by Elvis impersonators. Rose, it seems, mixed the invitations up with fan club correspondence. The priest gets started. Dorothy and Rose mention quietly that they don’t plan to get married again, but Blanche does; we then get a brief reference to Donald Trump which reminds us of what a sad, sad world we currently live in. Ugh. But anyway, Max and Sophia are declared man and wife, the two kiss, and every Elvis launches into a serenade.

The End.

Okay, we’ve recovered a bit from the last episode. I enjoyed this one, and particularly likes seeing some genuinely emotional moments from Bea Arthur and Estelle Getty. I’m curious to see how the writers get out of this one, since it’s obvious that they aren’t going to move Sophia out of the house permanently, or move Max in: will there be a death, an annulment, or some other development? I guess we’ll find out in Part 2! I don’t have much else to say about this one, aside from the fact that it was fairly heartwarming, and I’m looking forward to the next chapter. I give Sophia’s Wedding: Part 1 a score of 3.5 poofy hairdos out of 5.

Join us tomorrow (or later today, since my recap was late) for Jon’s take on A Good Man Goes to War, the next episode of Doctor Who. And I’ll be back on Tuesday with my take on the conclusion of Sophia’s Wedding. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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one-of-us-blog · 8 years ago

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Mother’s Day (TGG, Season 3, Episode 25)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap Mother’s Day, the season finale of the third season of The Golden Girls. On this day of celebration, the girls are hoping to hear from their children and are reminiscing about Mother’s Days past. Will this be an uplifting stroll down Memory Lane, or a bitter lesson in disappointment? Keep reading to find out…

Before we get into my recap, let me comment as usual on Jon’s recent take of the latest episode of Doctor Who that he watched, A Christmas Carol. I know I’m a broken record here, but you did another fine job, Cap! I feel like you never fail to go above and beyond in your posts, and this was no exception. I always look forward to the Doctor Who Christmas specials, and even when they aren’t perfect they are like a nice little holiday gift that is waiting for me every year, and I’m glad this one managed to be a 4Q experience for you. But now I have my own special occasion to celebrate (almost at the right time of the year, no less), so let’s head to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Barry Fanaro, Mort Nathan, Kathy Speer, and Terry Grossman, directed by Terry Hughes

As the episode opens, the girls are all sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the phone to ring. Sophia is wished a Happy Mother’s Day and we learn that a celebratory trip to a buffet is planned, but the gals don’t want to leave until their children have called them on this special day. Sophia has heard from everyone but Phil (of course), but even he manages to sneak a coded message through the phone lines. The girls start reminiscing – ah snap, it looks like we have another flashback episode on our hands! – and Dorothy recalls a Mother’s Day on which she had to ask Stan’s mother for a loan…

[The time vortex swirls into the past]

We cut to a small museum of Stanley Zbornak through the ages; or, perhaps this is just a home displaying far too many pictures of the lunk on its walls. It is, in fact, the home of Stan’s mother, and he and Dorothy arrive on her doorstep to bid her a joyous Mother’s Day. They even brought her a present, The Artwork of Adolf Hitler, the butter her up. It seems pretty clear that Ma Zbornak doesn’t care much for Dorothy, and the feeling may be mutual. When his mother goes to fetch some tea, Stan implores Dorothy to be nice to her, as they are here to try to convince her to shell out some money. When his mother returns, Stan pretends that he has a call to make, and heads out for a nearby payphone; this is Dorothy’s signal to beg for cash, as he doesn’t have the backbone to do it himself (to nobody’s surprise). As soon as he is gone, Ma Zbornak gets real with Dorothy; Stan is a yutz, and the whole world makes fun of him, she admits. That’s why she tries so hard to build him up. She also actually really likes Dorothy, because she’s just the kind of hardass needed to keep that bozo in line; or at least to try her best. The couple only needs $500 but Stan’s mother gives Dorothy $1,000, on the condition that she doesn’t tell him where it came from. After all, she doesn’t want Stan hanging around anymore than anyone else. Once they depart, Ma Zbornak proceeds to immediately take down all the pictures of Stan from her walls.

[We rematerialize in the kitchen]

Back in the present, Charlie Jr. has just called for Rose with the shocking news that it’s cold in Minnesota. She asks him to stick his tongue to some metal as a little Mother’s Day present to herself. Sophia is getting increasingly hungry, but Blanche takes the opportunity to reflect back upon the last Mother’s Day she spent with her mom…

[Once more, we are rocketed into days gone by]

We arrive in a retirement home, where Blanche greets her mother. Her mother, unfortunately, seems to think that Blanche is her sister, Virginia. She comments on her present of lace handkerchiefs, as she was always taught that there are two things one can never have enough of: lace handkerchiefs, and gentleman callers (Side note: As an enthusiastic handkerchief advocate, I cannot endorse this wisdom strongly enough). Blanche tries to help her mother recall some fond memories…you know, like the time when high school-aged Blanche nearly married a 40-year-old man with children. She was stopped by her parents, as her mother employed the brilliant tactic of giving Blanche her full blessing, thereby removing her interest for the man entirely. Her mother seems to recall the incident, but thought it happened to Virginia…wait, was Virginia the slut? No ma’am, Blanche replies, that was me! Blanche is clearly sad about her mother’s fading memory, but in a moment of lucidity, her mom recalls that the incident in question occurred on Christmas Day, and we see a little spark of herself return, pleasing Blanche.

[We are ripped suddenly back to the present]

Rose says goodbye to Charlie Jr., but Dorothy hasn’t yet gotten a call from Michael (who is probably still stinging from her reaction in Mixed Blessings). Rose recalls a Mother’s Day that she spend with somebody else’s mother, and here we go again…

[WHOOOOOOOOSH]

We find ourselves in a bus station in St. Olaf (in a set that I’m pretty sure has been recycled from another episode), and Rose has an hour to kill before she catches her bus to St. Olaf. She sits next to an older woman who is familiar with her hometown, and describes it quite well: beautiful, and full of idiots. Rose is going to visit her children for Mother’s Day, as they preferred to bring her to them than to go to her, and her new friend is going to visit her daughter. They both manage to recall a wedding day for a mutual acquaintance of theirs (whose name I’m not even going to try to spell), and Rose launches into a pretty intense story. Her story goes on for a looooong time, far beyond the point that she would have been shouted down from the girls in Miami. The kind lady seems overwhelmed at first, but eventually really seems to enjoy herself. She is glad for the company, and reveals that her daughter is actually dead. She has a ritual of going to the cemetery and pretending that it’s a normal Mother’s Day visit, which is actually pretty damn heartwrenching. But in order to make the trip, she had to run away from the home where she lives. Just then, a Sheriff shows up looking for her and is just about to take her back, when Rose intervenes, covering for her by pretending to be her daughter. The two make their getaway on the bus, smiling conspiratorially.

[ZOOOOOOOOOOM]

Michael finally calls, and Sophia says it’s about time…she’s starving to death over here. But in the meantime, she shares her own Mother’s Day tale with a final “Picture It,” and off we go…

[We’re leaping again!]

Here we are in the Petrillo household; Salvatore reclines on the sofa with a newspaper over his face, and young Sophia is on the prowl. She whips Sal into shape before her mother arrives, as they are planning to ask her to live with them. Young Dorothy (who I really like) pushes her grandmother into the home in a wheelchair, and we see that she is portrayed by Old Dorothy; or rather, she is played by Bea Arthur herself, in old lady makeup! Rad! They open the topic of moving into their home, but Sophia’s mother refuses on the grounds that Sal hates her. Much to my delight, she attempts to launch into her own “Picture It” (Sicily, 1881), but gets cut off. She slaps Sophia, Sophia slaps Dorothy, and eventually Sal takes matters into his own hands and asks her to move in himself. This does the trick, and the day is saved.

[Aaaaaaaaaaah!]

As Michael gets off the phone with his mother, he asks to talk to Sophia. She asks him if he has eaten, before declaring that she hasn’t, and hanging up the phone abruptly. Peace, it’s time to roll! They begin to leave, despite the fact that Blanche hasn’t received a call from her Janet yet, but Blanche doesn’t hold much hope anyway. Just then, the phone rings for Blanche, and Sophia abandons all hope for the trip, retrieving the pots and pans to whip up a Mother’s Day feast before she starves to death.

The End.

I wouldn’t say that this episode was exceptional, but you know, I think I’m really starting to come around to the flashback episodes that the writers are so fond of. I was a reluctant convert, but they’ve managed to win me over. There is a lot to like in each of these flashbacks, from the small twist with Stan’s mother, to Blanche’s pride in her sordid past, to Rose’s enthusiasm for her hometown, to another glance at a younger Sophia and Dorothy. I certainly had a few favorite moments, including Bea Arthur portraying her own grandmother, and Blanche’s handkerchief wisdom. I was also touched by the bus station segment, and I recall a moment from my younger days when some friends and I witnessed an old man attempting to escape from a nursing home. He was caught by the staff after a valiant effort, and we laughed about it at the time (like young jerks, confident that we would live forever as golden gods), but as the years go by my feelings regarding the incident have altered, and I find stories like this to be pretty emotional. I’m feeling good about Mother’s Day (and the season as a whole), and I give the episode a rating of 4 poofy hairdos out of 5.

Jon and I are both about to dip into brand new seasons, so stop back in tomorrow for his take on The Impossible Astronaut, the first episode of series 6 of Doctor Who. And I’ll be back on Tuesday with my recap of Yes, We Have No Havanas, the premiere episode of season 4 of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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one-of-us-blog · 7 years ago

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That’s for Me to Know (TGG, Season 7, Episode 4)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap That’s for Me to Know, Episode 4 of the final season of The Golden Girls. Dorothy attempts to piece together her family history, but soon learns that Sophia has some secrets she is unwilling to divulge. Meanwhile, a visit from a city official threatens to separate the squad for good. Can the girls band together to secure their future, or at least 22 more episodes? Keep reading to find out…

Drew is still on hiatus as he prepares to share his deep dive into Thunderball, Agent 007’s fourth cinematic adventure, so I will keep my opening comments brief. Needless to say, I am very excited to read his thoughts, and to re-watch the film myself! But today is a time for investigations of another sort, and I’m ready to get down to business, so let’s head to Miami!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Kevin Abbott, directed by Lex Passaris

Sophia enters the kitchen to announce that she had a difficult time sleeping, as Dreyfuss the dog spent the early morning hours causing a racket while showing a bit too much affection to the paperboy. Dorothy has been up working on a family history for the benefit of the generations to follow. She asks for Sophia’s help piecing together the details, because she wants to be as comprehensive as possible. Heck, she will even include Uncle Nunzio, though they agree to refer to his beloved goat as a “pet.” Rose mentions that the people of St. Olaf were lucky enough to all share the same family tree, which explains a lot. Blanche enters to announce that a contractor will begin construction for the installation of a hot tub the next day, and Rose rains on her parade by pointing out that she is supposed to have a permit. Blanche, however, has no intention of giving the government a dime.

Soon after, we find Sophia recording an audio account of the family history, though Dorothy has to remind her that the goal of the project is family pride. As they look through old family photos, Sophia quickly snatches a small box that she clearly wants to keep private. Dorothy takes it briefly, but Sophia reclaims the mysterious container and runs away. What’s in the box?!! A robed Blanche announces that she is wearing a swimsuit to entice the young construction workers who will be arriving shortly. Rose enters the room with Sophia’s secret box in hand, as Sophia apparently hid it under her bed, where Rose was busy playing. Somebody arrives at the house, but it isn’t the contractor. Instead, it is a city inspector, tipped off by Rose that some construction was about to go down. Blanche pulls Rose into the kitchen, where Dorothy is busily attempting to pry open the box. Rose tells Blanche that she hated to lie (though all she really had to do was not contact the authorities and snitch), but Blanche is mad because she can’t afford any permits. Dorothy also has to clear her conscience, and confesses that she has been trying to infiltrate her mother’s secret box, but she doesn’t abandon the mission.

When Blanche realizes that the permit in need will only set her back $40, she lets Rose off the hook. All would be well, if Rose didn’t also blab and mention that there are currently three people living in the home and paying rent to Blanche. The inspector, who must have been a hall monitor in his younger days, quickly points out that Blanche cannot rent her home to more than two people without a boarding permit. While this is also fairly inexpensive, the improvements that would be necessary to the house to make Blanche’s rental situation legal would set her back $10,000. If those improvements can’t be made, she has 48 hours to lose a renter. As all this is transpiring, Dorothy has finally managed to open the box, and has located a picture of a young Sophia in a wedding dress, married to a man that was not her father. Realizing that her mother had a previous marriage, a fact that she never shared, Dorothy freaks out. Who even is this woman?

Dorothy questions Sophia on the lanai, initially playing dumb about the box and grilling her about the year 1920. Sophia only mentions that this was the year she sailed for America, until Dorothy confronts her with the picture. Dorothy says that she has a right to know the truth, but Sophia insists that she is allowed to have some secrets. Rose, thinking herself the smartest woman in the world, has the bright idea to obtain a permit to turn the house into a halfway home so as many people as desired can stay, but this doesn’t fly with the others. Dorothy says that they will have to raise $10,000 if they want to stay together, but Blanche insists that she didn’t create this problem and she shouldn’t have to pay for it, Rose should. On the other hand, Rose points out that Sophia was the last person to move in (which Dorothy forced up them), and if someone must depart, it should be her (to borrow an accounting term, this is a LIFO situation). Everyone argues some more, and there is tension in the air.

It doesn’t take long until all the girls are in the kitchen apologizing to one another and hugging. They are unhappy about the situation, but they will have to decide who moves out. Everyone votes for a rejectee anonymously on a slip of paper, and Blanche counts the votes, all four of which were for Dorothy; this means that not only did Dorothy vote for herself (because she was certain everyone else would pick Rose, and felt guilty), but Sophia voted for Dorothy’s departure as well. They all immediately abandon the idea again, as they simply must remain a foursome. Suddenly, Dorothy has a brainstorm: Blanche isn’t allowed to have three renters, but what if they were all co-owners of the house instead? Blanche isn’t very enthusiastic about the idea of legally sharing her sanctuary with anyone, even her dear friends. This is her home, her past and her future, and she could never sell it.

Rose attempts to preemptively move out before anyone can stop her, but Dorothy catches her in the act. The city inspector shows up to be a jerk and asks who is leaving, and Dorothy declares that none of them will depart. They are a family, and family must stay together. Blanche finally says that this is true, because she will be sharing the title of the house with them after all. The inspector leaves to ruin someone else’s day, and Sophia thinks about her future as a landowner.

Dorothy tries again to talk to her mother about the picture, and Sophia finally reveals that the man’s name was Guido. He was her first husband through an arranged marriage, and she had no choice in the matter. She had their marriage annulled before she left for America. Sophia doesn’t want this chapter included in the family history, but Dorothy insists, picking up her recorder to chronicle the story of her mother. She narrates that Sophia was a pioneer in the women’s rights movement, with strength worthy of admiration. They each say they are proud of one another, and share a hug.

The End.

This episode was both touching and frustrating. Let me quickly address the B-plot first, because I enjoyed the revelation about Sophia’s backstory, and Dorothy’s ultimate acceptance of her mother as someone who had no need to be ashamed, even taking pride in the strength it would require for a young woman to defy her family and set sail for a new life. That was my favorite part. As far as the main plotline regarding the housing kerfuffle, there were definitely moments that I liked, such as Dorothy’s reaction to the unanimous vote, but my wife and I kept yelling at the television as we watched. It’s not like anyone was asking Rose about the construction project to cause her to lie, so why would she go out of her way to narc on Blanche in the first place? And without even telling her that she was making the call, no less! Why the heck couldn’t they just tell the dude that Rose and Dorothy were renting, and Sophia is simply staying with her daughter? Does Sophia actually pay her own rent anyway? Even if she does, couldn’t Blanche just charge Dorothy more so that there are only two renters, and Sophia could help Dorothy out in exchange? Is Rose really so unwilling to be party to any white lie that she would break up their whole squad? And why is this city inspector such a jerk? Look, I’m an auditor, so I understand professions that annoy people, but this guy could have simply pretended not to have overheard their remark and gone on his way, content in the knowledge that he wasn’t costing a group of older women $10,000 for no reason at all. And then he just pops back in two days later all like “Welp, who’s leaving today?” I couldn’t believe Blanche invited him back to the hot tub after that. Man, I didn’t realize how worked up about this I was until I started typing! I know it was all an excuse to make the girls face a dilemma, and it didn’t totally ruin the episode for me. Still, I would give That’s for Me to Know a rating of 3 poofy hairdos out of 5.

Check back in soon for Drew’s take on Thunderball, the next James Bond film on his agenda, and I will return later this week with my recap of Where’s Charlie?, the next episode of The Golden Girls. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden girls #the golden girls #one of us

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