#about victoria belfrey things

[priscilla9993]

Chess Allusions: Pawn Parallels

Rogers: “So you can use [her info] as leverage against [Belfrey]?”

Weaver: “Well that’s how this game works, Detective.”

Talking in the park, Weaver and Rogers both want the information that Tilly knows, the kind that causes Victoria to feel threatened, enough to blackmail Weaver with Tilly’s imprisonment and some CCTV footage of his misdeeds. Although both detectives covet finding and questioning Tilly for what she knows, their motives differ. 

Weaver has a “means to an end” approach, valuing Tilly only when she can be useful in his schemes. His selfish nature sides with his freedom and power over her wellbeing, and he’s okay with that. Tilly might be his informant with the ‘best eyes and ears in Hyperion Heights’, but at the end of the day, she’s replaceable, someone worth losing if it means he gains a stepping stone in the long game against taking down Victoria Belfrey.

Rogers: “Is that all this girl is to you and Belfrey? A pawn? Then why don’t we split up, since one of us actually wants to help her?”

But to Rogers, who doesn’t even know Tilly at this point, he sees Victoria and Weaver’s game as something where people win at the expense of somebody else and goes into full papa bear mode. Rogers wants to help Weaver as a partner and wage justice against Victoria, but not at the cost of using Tilly. He sees Tilly as a vulnerable person caught in the crossfire of a game they didn’t even know they were playing, rather than a soldier in a chess match, and wants to talk to her on equal terms. 

His opinion of Tilly being a bit off kilter but innocent at heart only strengthens when Weaver, in the hospital, unexpectedly pardons her of assumed criminal charges, telling Rogers an obvious lie about a masked robber being the one who shot the gun. Upon meeting Tilly outside of the hospital room, Rogers sees a confused, distraught, and guilt ridden young woman playing a game of chess alone. He tells her the facts with a kind opinion, “Look, you weren’t in your right frame of mind. He doesn’t blame you.” They build up an acquaintance and the budding start of a camaraderie over chess.

However, this all changes when the monster that is Gothel/the fire nation arrives Eloise Gardener gets into the playing field. Victoria and Drizella play cat and mouse, Weaver uses Tilly in a game of lies, and Rogers tries to make sense of things, inadvertently rescuing Gothel, the big bad spider.

Rogers to Weaver: You lied! And you made Tilly lie. Why did you do that?!

Weaver: Because you don't know what's going on around here... But I did it for one reason: to protect you from your bloody self.

(gratuitous physical violence scene bc I love the dynamic)

What Rumple could mean by ‘bloody self’ could be that Rogers lets his temper cloud his judgment first before he goes seeking revenge on/fighting for justice for those who deserve it most. I think that's where Rumple sees the most Killian come out from the supposed "Eagle Scout" detective, stubborn and determined to stick to his guns until he gets to his desired conclusion, which in this case is finding Eloise Gardener (Gothel). 

Rogers defends Tilly, despite only meeting her a few times, going so far as to bodyslam Weaver as he confronts him. However, he loses his respect for her after finding Eloise, where no explanation could outweigh the cost.

Rogers: What do you want?

Tilly: To say I’m sorry about the page. Weaver said it was for the best and I can’t always figure that out for myself.

Rogers: Take a look at what he was covering up. Now tell me, was that for the best? You know what? I understand. I’m just disappointed. You weren’t the person I thought you were.

Rogers is a man of many things, holding grudges being one of them and being rational in the other. The blonde informant had gone so far as to even lie to him about Eloise, dead of all things. As much as he wanted to forgive Tilly, he didn’t know if he could.

At the end of the day, in Rogers’s mind, Eloise needed help, rescue, and emergency aid, something that only happened because of his deep obsession with finding a missing girl from a cold case. And Tilly deterred him from saving a life, unintentional or not.

Roni: “Henry told me about how Weaver used that girl, Tilly.”

Rogers: “Well, it seems to me like she wanted to be a pawn.”

Rogers feels his trust was betrayed and remains disappointed in Tilly. He saw Weaver being a shady bastard from a mile away, but he didn’t expect her to be complicit in Weaver’s dirty schemes. He wanted to believe Tilly was the kind of person who questioned whatever she was told and made her own path on decisions like he did, not so easily roped into following plans, especially ones of slimy bastards like Weaver. If Rogers saw Tilly as an innocent victim of society before, moved around like a pawn, he feels wronged in his judgment and probably thinks she was content to be a sheep to Weaver’s mysterious whims. 

Who was he to believe she could be more than a pawn when she chose to be one?

Luckily, Roni was there to whack the obviously menacing poisoned cake from his hands and knock some sense into him.

Regina as Roni: “You know, people only let themselves be used when they don’t have any other option. How about you give her one?”

Tilly, even if a marmalade sandwich was needed as incentive, had been willingly helpful to his case. The only moment she hadn’t been was when she was under Weaver’s thumb, someone she had known and trusted like a father figure, unlike him who was a stranger in her eyes. People came and went from the older detective’s team, knowledge of informants and detective partners leaving frequently unless they had a special skill set or blackmail hanging over them. If anything, she wasn’t fully to blame.

What Tilly and Rogers can't see until it's too late, being cursed and all, is that they are good natured people afraid of getting hurt, wanting to help others, but unfortunately victims of manipulation, of those with ulterior agendas that use them as playing pieces, making them no better than pawns. 

Roni was right. People like Tilly wouldn’t let themselves be used like pawns if they didn’t have any other option. She had been brave enough to show up to the crime scene to apologize to him in person after what she did, not caring about being forgiven, and he hadn’t even given what she had said a second thought. Knowing Weaver, Rogers would have concluded that the old bastard probably didn’t even give her the entire picture and used her good intentions in an ill manner befitting the man’s deceitful ways, leading her to think it was for the best. 

This leads to Rogers making a step in the right direction. It doesn’t take more than Roni’s small nudge of advice to get him to internally forgive Tilly and go in search of her, eventually offering a chess set to help pass the time with a weekly game and a friend who’d listen if she’d accept. From then on, Rogers and Tilly both grow and begin to trust again, trying to protect the other from getting harmed as the consequence of another’s scheme.

[storybrookexladies]

PICK ONE OF YOUR MUSES; Victoria and Gothel are doing this.But Victoria is going first.....

FILL IN THE QUESTIONS/STATEMENT AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE

Filled in by Vic for her and Arthur.....

Bonus: The interviewer for the article with Victoria is her WWE biggest rival Trish

TAG 10 PEOPLE TO DO THIS MEME, (REPOST, DON’T REBLOG)

TAGGED BY: @secretsxstorybrooke

TAGGING: Victoria wants Regina to do this as well. She also tags the following; @withoutapprcval, @bravelostgirl, @mutimuseornahonceuponahtime (for Regina, Killian and Emma), @kxngofnxvxrlxnd, @wickedsdaughter, @fcrgedstrcngth (for Anthony), @kidscfstorybrooke (Lucas is doing it cause she had to), @corruptcorporateexecutive (Natasha), @ravenhairedbandit (Ella) and @secretsxstorybrooke (Steven....)

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? “Victoria Belfrey, or Lady Tremaine or Rapunzel what’s your’s?”

Interviewer: I’m Trish and blimey...... lot’s of names. On with the quiz though.

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? “Victoria Gabriella Belfrey, also known as Lady Rapunzel Tremaine.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? “Because I’m a Lady? And Tremaine is my family name? Belfrey because of the tower.....”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “I’m taken by a man...... he’s called King Arthur.”

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?  “Yes. I have a magic wand. But I don’t have powers.. only abilities and moves like Sweet Chin Music and the Belfrey Lock..”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU. “Wow Trish so rude.... I seem to remember that you are the one who is a Mary Sue.... like seriously you don’t have no keys to no city.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “I have blue eyes.”

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “I am a brunette, also slightly blonde a little.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “My father Phillip Vance Belfrey, my brother Steven Belfrey, my daughters Drizella, Anastasia and Rose, my son Lucas, my stepdaughter Ella and step granddaughter Lucy. My husband Arthur.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “We have a dog called Excalibur and our family has a cat.”

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “I don’t like anyone who messes with my friends or family I don’t care if you have a good reason–just don’t do it. I don’t like being locked in towers and I don’t like bitches called Trish....”

Trish: Um……

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “Ok...  so I like wrestling, the gym.. watching films, the spa. Reading, singing. Listening to Faith Hill.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “I have hurt people.... I hurt my family... and I regret that I should have not gone down the dark path I did.”

14. EVER… KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? “Yes I have.... don’t want to talk about that though.”

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? “Dog or cat…”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. “Being evil.... and maybe rudeness”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? “My father.”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? “Bisexual and proud.”

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “I am too old for school now but I did go.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? “I’m married to Arthur.... and I have children... but yes.”

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS? “Yes I do. A lot of peeps love me. Judging by merch sales.... of mine and Gothel’s Dangerous Women shirts compared to yours.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “Being like my mother.... she’s a bitch. My mother is also an alcoholic who left her family for booze.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “Anything that I like.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “My family… especially my children Drizella, Anastasia, Rose and Lucas. My stepdaughter Ella and step-granddaughter Lucy and my husband Arthur.”

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF? “This is a personal question but I have wet myself in labor and also at other times but this is too personal.... so I can’t answer.”

26. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) “I am a royal through marriage and I’m also Lady Rapunzel Tremaine…”

27. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “Loads of friends But close friends maybe two or three... Gothel is one, Amelia the other..”

28. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “Yes, please. Pie is nice.”

29. FAVORITE DRINK? “A whiskey, wine or gin in moderation or pepsi max.”

Trish: Ok... cool.

30. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE? “Anywhere my family is. Plus I do love Belfrey Towers. And the ring where I beat your ass.”

31. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? “Yes Arthur... I said I’m married are you?”

Trish: I’m married to hunky Canadian Calgary Hart member John Smith.

32. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY? “I am not obliged to answer this question as this is private information....”

33. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “I like The ocean but I also like swimming pools.”

34. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? “A person who is nice and caring. A person who puts us first and also likes my family.”

35. ANY FETISHES? “Not many but being topped is my biggest and also I admit I call Arthur daddy sometimes....”

Trish: HOLY SHIT.....

36. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? “I’m a bottom and proud of it...... don’t know the semi or uke... but I’m also a switch... I prefer being submissive though.”

37. CAMPING OR INDOORS? “Indoors but do like camping.”

38. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END? “Yes please you are annoying me.” Victoria says before Trish is given the Mother Nature by Gothel as she runs in before Victoria adds a Sweet Chin Music and Belfrey Lock then her and Gothel stand tall with the Smackdown Women’s Championship. “Boom bish that’s what ya get.”

[tenglows]

cloaked heart | detective rogers/killian jones

read more on wattpad here

[ “cloaked heart” will take place in season 7, when everyone is cursed ]

It was a sunny, lovely day at Hyperion Heights. Zella walked towards her favorite coffee shop, saying hello to all the town people she saw everyday.

If there was something that Zella valued, was her routine. She came into the coffee shop where her best friend was already waiting for her, her blonde hair peeking through a booth.

“Good morning, Tilly” she smiled, sitting in front of the girl.

“Hi Zells!” she giggled, the familiar nickname making Arya giggle too.

“What are we craving today?”

“I can’t decide if I want pancakes or cake”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, because I can’t decide either. Let’s order both and share”

Tilly squealed happily, and called the waitress, Ruby, to order.

While they waited for their food, and talked about what they were going to do that day, someone else walked in the coffee shop.

“Hi, Tilly” he smiled, standing in front of the table.

“Rogers! How do you do?” the girl’s face lit up as he caught sight of the man.

He returned the happy expression, which faded away considerably, as he turned his gaze to Tilly’s companion.

“Zella”

“Detective Rogers” she replied, equally cold.

Zella wasn’t really sure why she and Rogers couldn’t seem to get along. He was always very protective of Tilly, and when she and Zella started getting closer, he made sure to keep an eye on her. Also, the fact that Zella was a street artist and he worked for the police, didn’t make things easier. But that’s how Zella and Tilly had met in the first place, by making a mural together. Zella had always admired Tilly’s graffitis, filled with rare drawings of clocks, rabbits, and all sorts of bizarre things. So when she actually met the artist, she was thrilled, and it was only a matter of time before they became great friends.

Zella had tried to be friendly with Rogers, but he seemed to always be studying her, waiting for her to crack and prove that she wasn’t worthy of Tilly’s friendship. The last straw was when Rogers gave Zella a fine for graffiting. It was clearly because of his personal agenda, since he had never punished Tilly. And ever since that day, she had stopped making an effort to try to gain the man’s trust.

Who did he think he was, anyway, constantly having a say in Tilly’s life?

“Do you want to join us?” asked Tilly, who even though was aware of her friends’ tension, always tried to get them together.

“Maybe some other time” he nodded, said goodbye, and left the coffee shop.

When he left, Zella groaned and rolled her eyes, lying her head on the table. Tilly made a face.

“I really wish you two would get along”

“And I really wish I was a famous millionaire, but we have to keep our dreams realistic” Zella answered, mockingly.

Ruby arrived with their food before Tilly could say something else, and just like that, the subject was dropped.

~•~

Zella stood smiling in front of a blank wall, with her paint and tools, pondering over the million possibilities opening up to her. Deciding what she would draw each day was always an adventure.

Still, even though Zella saw all the people she liked in her everyday life, she also came across the people she didn’t like so much. And so Victoria Belfrey appeared, standing next to her with a fake smile.

“Hello, Zella. I thought we had agreed you would stop painting these… things, on my property” She glared at the buckets of paint the girl was setting up.

“You agreed, I didn’t” Zella replied sharply.

“Very well. I guess you won’t mind if I talk to Detective Rogers about this again, then”

“Be my guest” Zella sneered, and Victoria left, her high heels clicking behind her. “Bitch” she muttered under her breath.

Zella tried to shake away the bad feeling Victoria always caused her, and got to work.

~•~

By dusk, Zella had already finished the mural, and she now sat on the street, admiring it with pride. She had painted different types of flowers, full of colors and shades. Finishing a piece gave her a satisfaction she didn’t get from anything else. She thought about how lifeless and hollow the wall looked before she filled it with vividness and color, as if it had actually bloomed. She sighed contentedly.

At some point, Tilly joined her, sitting next to her with wide eyes.

“Zells, this is amazing!” she exclaimed, observing her friend’s art with admiration and delight.

“It’s pretty great, right?”

“It’s one of my favorites you’ve ever made”

“You say that about every one, Tilly” Zella giggled.

The two friends sat there, wondering at the mural, when Rogers showed up. He, too, stared at what the friends were attentively looking at.

“Wow” he expressed. “This is beautiful, Tilly”

Zella rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t me” the blonde girl chuckled. “This was all Zella”

Speechless, Rogers gazed at the woman, who looked at him defiantly.

“Oh” he simply said.

“Come on, Rogers. Give Zella a compliment!” Tilly insisted.

“I just said it is good”

“No, you said beautiful”

“Well, okay, it is beautiful. Good job, Zella” Rogers said quickly, as if talking fast would make the wind dissolve the words in the air.

“Does that mean you won’t give me a fine again?” Zella raised an eyebrow, and Rogers rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, Tilly” he said, walking away.

Tilly waved at him, and she immediately turned to Zella, with a big grin and big eyes.

“You’ve got crazy face, what’s going on?” Zella teased.

“He found your art beautiful” she said, smirking.

“Only because he thought it was yours”

“No, he found your art beautiful”

“Yeah, whatever” Zella brushed it off. But she smiled smugly at herself.

[eddysocs]

Introducing: Odette Rodanthe

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Face Claim: Hannah van der Westhuysen

Full Name: Odette Clara Rodanthe

Age: 25

Myers Briggs Type: ESFJ

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Love Interest: Victoria Belfrey

Occupation: Personal Assistant

Collections: Feathers

Style/Clothing: Odette dresses to impress. She’s willing to sacrifice a certain amount of comfort for the sake of style. And she will always be seen with a necklace on, or a layering of necklaces.

Signature Quote: "Some days I just wish I could sprout wings and fly far away."

Plot Summary: Odette works as Victoria Belfrey’s assistant. She practically runs her life, but try as she may, she can’t seem to find a way into her heart. She’s about to give up and move on when things get interesting. Lucy, comes to Odette with a book of fairy tales and Odette can’t help but be drawn into her crazy theories.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @borg-queer, @antonybridgertons, @foxesandmagic, @connietheecunning

Odette Rodanthe: @dancingwith-sunflowers

[multifandomfix]

Archie Hopper

Cora Mills

Cruella DeVil

Killian Jones

Oh Captain, My Captain 💧🧸

As part of Killian's crew aboard the Jolly Roger, you’ve been pining after your captain for a long time. Now you’ve got to decide whether your love for him or the sea is stronger.

Maleficent

Regina Mills

Past Mistakes & Present Doubts 💧🧸

You’re about to be married and may have some doubts. And to make things worse, you have a wedding crasher. Your ex, Queen Regina.

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden 💧

You’ve always loved Regina, but her actions as the Evil Queen finally become too much to bear. Will she see the error of her ways in time or will it be too late to make her amends?

Rumplestiltskin

Victoria Belfrey

Zelena Mills

Regina Mills x Evil Queen x Reader

Regina Mills x Zelena Mills x Reader

Angst = 💧 Fluff = 🧸 Suggestive = 🫦 Explicit = 🔞 Dark = 😈 Humor = 🃏 Pregnancy = 🤰🏼

[mystical-flute]

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (SFWeek Day 6)

Actors AU or Social Media AU

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

“No, Baelfire!”

“It’s okay, Leia… all magic comes with a price, right? I’m happy paying this price if it means - ” he winced in pain as the magic drained more of his strength. “If it means you and Henry will be safe.”

She sniffed, a tear landing on his cheek. “But - but Henry doesn’t even remember you. He never got to see you again!”

“I have faith you’ll break his curse…”

“Bae…” came the broken voice of a father.

“Papa,” despite him dying, he had never felt more relieved to see his father. His sacrifice worked. Papa was safe.

Rumplestiltskin sank to his knees, taking his son’s hand. “Oh my boy. No, I’ll - I’ll stop this. I’ll make sure it takes me instead of you.”

“Papa, you can’t! It’s too late. It’s already begun. You have to let me go. Please.”

“Baelfire…”

Baelfire turned his gaze back to Leia. “Go… find your happiness… without me.”

A final breath escaped him, although his eyes remained open, glassy and empty, as they stared off into the bright light above him.

“CUT!”

Director Killian Jones’ voice sliced through the somber scene, chatter beginning to buzz as assistants, producers and camera operators continued the work that had been stalled while the cameras rolled.

Neal Cassidy blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the studio lighting, and sat up, off his co-star, Emma Swan’s, legs. “That was the first time I’ve ever died in a movie before. Gotta say, I don’t recommend staring directly into the spotlight above your head.”

Arthur Gold, ‘Rumplestiltskin’, stood and stretched out his. “You two are good,” he remarked. “Really just thought you two were just pretty faces, but you two got real acting chops,” his voice dropped lower as Victoria Belfrey, one of the most cutthroat producers in Hollywood, strolled by, “ - especially if you haven’t been scared off by her, yet.”

“Ah, she’s not so bad,” Emma said with a shrug. “You just have to know how to butter her up.”

“Yeah, I mean, sooner or later, it’s going to be our generation that’s the big time producers,” Neal added.

Arthur blinked slowly, then smirked. “That’s the spirit. That will get you both far in this town.”

He ambled away in the direction of catering, and the mood shifted immediately when the two stars were left alone.

“You got snot on me when you cried.”

“Your breath stinks like garlic.”

Oh, Neal couldn’t stand to be near Emma Swan. But Regina Mills’ Misthaven had broken record after record for books and social media posts, so it only made sense that, when the inevitable movie adaptation was announced, Neal Cassidy and Emma Swan, both riding high from their own worldwide successes, would play the two star-crossed, tragic lovers - Baelfire the Spinner and Princess Leia.

He glared. “Yeah? What time did you get to your trailer last night? Two? Because before Elsa worked her magic on you, you looked like - ”

“That is enough out of you two!” Killian snapped, a clipboard tucked under his arm as he approached the sound stage. “I’d heard you two were trouble to work with, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Well maybe if - ”

“I don’t care. Neither of you are scheduled to film tomorrow, so I’ve set up a bit of a… bonding exercise for you. Don’t worry, your agents gave the okay.”

Neal and Emma shot Killian incredulous looks. “You did this behind our backs?” “What the hell, man?” They protested at the same time.

“Oh, look at that. It seems to be working already,” Killian smirked, handing them sheets of paper. “Meet there at nine o’clock sharp. Spend the day together. Get to know each other - without trying to rip the other’s throat out.”

Neal thought he might have more luck jumping into a zoo exhibit, but he really didn’t want to lose his reputation or everything he had worked for.

So the next morning, he was slumped in the back seat of a car, Emma doing the same on the other side. The ride had been quiet, neither of them much in the mood to talk.

Maybe if they learned to just ignore each other, that would be enough for Killian? Hell, it was already working.

His brow raised as they turned off the main highway, heading into the woods.

“Okay, I know Killian’s annoyed with us, but is he really going to murder us in the woods?” Emma whispered.

“Please, if they did that, Misthaven would tank, and that wouldn’t be fair to Regina Mills,” he replied, although the thought had crossed his mind as well.

“I didn’t think you cared about anyone but yourself.”

“I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Finally, the driver stopped outside a cabin. “Alright you two. I’ll be back at three, Mr. Jones’ orders. Have fun and don’t do anything that might require an ambulance.”

“It’s like they don’t trust us or something,” Neal said, watching the driver pull away.

Emma didn’t laugh as she glanced at the cabin. “This is a joke, right? God, it’s like being back on Dad’s farm.”

“You grew up on a farm?”

“You gonna mock me for that?”

Neal held up his hands in a gesture of surrender as she unlocked the cabin door and stepped inside. “I was doing nothing of the sort. You just don’t strike me as the “farm girl” type with all the leather you wear.”

“I shed that image. I was never a fan of small towns or - or farms. They’re nice to visit, but I’m a city girl through and through,” she said, frowning as she looked around. “No TV?”

“Jones did say this was a bonding exercise. They probably figured we’d spend all day watching TV or going online and ignoring each other.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Well, they ended that dream before you could fall asleep,” Neal said, flopping down on a couch. “Why don’t we talk more about that little farm thing you grew up on?”

“It’s a farm in Maine. Dad raises sheep, cows and chickens and has crops. Really not all that interesting to talk about, other than I hated getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to collect eggs. That was more my brother’s speed.”

Neal raised a brow. “Maine, huh? You don’t hear a lot about people from Maine.”

“Suppose not. Where was it you were from, again?”

“New Orleans.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? No offense, but you don’t sound like it.”

Neal chewed the inside of his cheek, before sighing. “My manager didn’t think it’d get me far if I kept the accent,” he said, slipping into his normal voice. “I really don’t think I’d have gotten Misthaven if I sound like this, do you?”

Emma shrugged. “I think the accent sounds fine, but I guess I can see what you mean. Still shouldn’t mean you couldn’t use it in other work or in interviews. Your manager must be a shark.”

“Cora Miller. And trust me when I say she wasn’t happy when she found out about this little adventure.”

“Ah, that explains it.” A pause. “Did you read Misthaven? The book, I mean.”

“I did. I think it’s bullshit that Baelfire dies.”

“You’re just saying that because that means you have to die and miss out on the last half of the movie.”

“No, no! I’m serious! Baelfire fights so hard to reunite his family and revive his father, and he knows the ins and out of magic, and he still pays the ultimate price? When others who did so much worse get to survive? Even if he and Princess Leia don’t get together, he deserved to be with Henry, at least,” Neal replied, frowning.

Emma tilted her head. “I guess that makes sense. And Baelfire returning a hero after being out of Princess Leia’s life for so long would have made for a great redemption story. Maybe Regina Mills will figure out a way to bring him back in the sequel.”

“Wait, she’s writing a sequel?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to come out in a couple years. I didn’t know you were such a big reader.”

“You kiddin’? English was my favorite subject in school. I got a whole wall in my house dedicated to books.”

Emma sat back in her chair, clearly surprised. “Huh. It was mine too.”

Neal crossed his legs. “I guess we got more in common than we thought. What do you say we start over?”

Emma smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”

[themattress]

OUAT AND ME: SEASON 7

Story - The final season's story is the Hyperion Heights Saga, a reboot of the series where another Dark Curse has wiped the memories of characters both old and new, placing them in Hyperion Heights, which is a bustling neighborhood in Seattle as opposed to a peaceful town in Maine. This time, it's the adult Henry Mills who is called upon by his young daughter Lucy to come and be the Savior, doing battle against the corrupt businesswoman Victoria Belfrey, who in actuality is an alternate realm's version of Cinderella's stepmother, Lady Tremaine, while Jacinda, the corresponding version of Cinderella, is Henry's wife and Lucy's mother.

Also, Regina is now a bartender named Roni, Rumple is now a detective named Weaver, and Hook is his partner, a police officer named Rogers. Except that it's not really the Hook we know and love, but the Hook from the Wish Realm who has been de-aged. And he has a teenage daughter named Tilly, actually an alternate version of Alice from Wonderland, because he was raped by that realm's Mother Gothel who disguised herself as Rapunzel. And Gothel is the real mastermind behind the current Dark Curse, which was cast by Lady Tremaine's daughter Drizella, presently known as Ivy Belfrey, while Lady Tremaine is actually the real Rapunzel who wishes to resurrect her favored daughter Anastasia. Gothel also isn't working alone, as she is part of the dangerous Coven of Eight, a group of witches. Their presence also draws in characters like Baron Samdi aka Dr. Facilier, a voodoo witch doctor who shares a history with Cinderella's friend Tiana, currently named Sabine, and Jack, currently going by Nick but whose real name is Hansel, who is a serial killer of those he deems witches. Speaking of witches, Zelena enters the picture eventually as Kelly West, whose daughter Robin / Margot is all grown up and is Alice / Tilly's girlfriend. Alice / Tilly also shares a bond with Rumple / Weaver, who is grieving the loss of Belle and wanting to cleanse his soul of the Darkness so that he can join her in the afterlife, but the only way to do that is to find an entity known as the Guardian who will take on the Darkness in his place, a quest which is complicated by Facilier who wants to become the new Dark One. Things come to a climactic point when Gothel's devastating true intentions are revealed, rooted in her true backstory and identity of Mother Nature, and it's revealed that her Dark Curse actually took everyone back in time and that it's actually not too long after Season 6 ended, with teenage Henry still in Storybrooke while his future self is presently in Hyperion Heights! Alice / Tilly defeats her evil mother and the curse is broken, but then Wish Realm Rumple pops up...

....I'm sorry, did I say that the Savior's Fate Saga was overly convoluted and cluttered with too many subplots and characters? The Hyperion Heights Saga makes it look totally reasonable! Also, say what you will about "The Final Battle" (and there's a lot of negative things to say), but it at least was a conclusion that predominantly featured the main characters we've come to know, love, and fall out of love with. This story is full of entirely new characters, old character that don't feel like their old selves like Regina, Rumple and Henry, or characters that are both old and new at the same time like Wish Hook. And not only do precious few of the new characters work right off the bat in the way the old ones did in their prime, but even the ones who might have get screwed over by Adam and Eddy's ADHD storytelling taken to a whole new level. This story is so dumbfounding that it's often unwatchable, which is the exact opposite quality that the show had back in Season 1.

And that makes it so much worse that THIS is the final season. THIS is the final arc. Adam and Eddy, along with the ABC network, took a needless gamble on a reboot, and it blew up in their faces spectacularly. The OUAT viewership had already gradually shrunk down to a loyal fanbase of 3 million in Seasons 5 and 6, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back, causing even those fans to flee in droves to the point where the show was struggling to even hold on to 2 million of them. The show was cancelled, and it ended on a whimper, not a bang.

Oh, and by that, I mean the show in general, on a metatextual level. This arc itself and the show's story certainly didn't end on a whimper, but what it DID end on....well, I'll hold off on that as long as I can, but let's just say that it's enough to make most people wish that it did.

Characters - Let's just get this over with...

* Henry Mills, who I will hereby be referring to as Adult Henry, is allegedly the main character of this story arc. I say allegedly because the story arc ends up being far more interested in just about everyone but him. His ultimate role in breaking the curse makes him feel far more like an accessory than a Savior, and even in the season / series finale he takes a backseat to other characters that include his own teenage, Wish Realm counterpart! He is also so boring, to the point where he doesn't even resemble the kid we knew in any degree. Jared Gilmore also proves to have been a better fit for Henry than this actor, Andrew J. West, who is way too aware that he's in a fantasy show and delivers his lines with far too much of a smug, tongue-in-cheek, winking-at-the-audience kind of quality, a far cry from Gilmore's sincerity.

* The only characters who might be even less interesting than Adult Henry are his wife, Jacinda / Cinderella, and his daughter Lucy. The actresses are bad and the writing for the characters is even worse, with this new Cinderella lacking none of the original's charm and emotional strength in favor of being a shallow "Strong Female Character(TM)”, and having less chemistry or a believable reason to fall in love with Adult Henry than Violet had with teenage Henry! Lucy, meanwhile, is just a gender-flipped version of child Henry from Season 1, except even less tolerable since child Henry at least had a dynamic relationship with Emma, and the sense that adoptive mother Regina did care for him whereas stepgranny-with-custody Victoria clearly couldn't care less about Lucy. Tellingly, these two characters were such misfires that they were barely featured in the season / series finale. ABC had clearly gotten the feedback from what few viewers were still watching and reacted accordingly.

* Roni / Regina initially is set up as a bartender who is leading the neighborhood resistance against Victoria's plans for gentrification. It doesn't take long for her to remember her true identity, though, and then in flashbacks and the present day we see her go through the same bullshit that's expected of Regina: having troubled relationships with other female magic-users, fighting off temptation to do things the evil way, and obsessing over her son. Things end up getting weird, though, when she inexplicably engages in a sexual relationship with Baron Samdi, and in the climax and finale, she....aaaaaugh, sorry, I'll get to it eventually!

* Weaver / Rumpelstiltskin is a study in ideas and executions not lining up. The idea behind him is solid: following a happy realm-hopping with Belle and Gideon, Rumple is heart-broken after Belle dies. Wanting to join her in death but knowing he won't as long as he's the Dark One, he sets out to find the Guardian who will accept the Darkness being passed on to them, bonding with Alice and her father Wish Hook over the course of his quest. Meanwhile, in the cursed Hyperion Heights, he's a detective who walks a fine line of legality, kept in check by his highly moral partner Officer Rogers and possessing an odd friendship with a street urchin named Tilly who serves as his informant. Robert Carlyle plays Weaver with conviction and there is legitimately good chemistry between him, Colin O'Donoghue and Rose Reynolds.

But in execution, a lot of this falls flat. First off, it's insulting to just forget Rumple's 1 & 1/2 season-long stint as the Darkest Dark One ever happened, which is basically what the show does: writing Rumple as a caring husband and father to the point where he may as well have stayed a hero back in Season 5. Secondly, the Beauty and the Beast aspect that was just one part of Rumple's original multi-faceted character has completely taken over, and I just don't buy that the Rumple of the past would desire to give up his power and die just to reunite with Belle in the afterlife. It's blatant Rumbelle pandering, which is even worse after how unhealthy and abusive that pairing became. It also kind of exposes that both in-universe and out of it, Rumple would have been better off dying in "The Final Battle", and that Carlyle made a huge, Rumple-esque mistake in renegotiating his contract under the justification of doing it for his family. Thirdly, it's just tepid to watch Rumple running around, trying to find the Guardian, and mope about "making his way back to Belle", unwilling to do too many dark things because it risks darkening his soul further...but if he passes all the Darkness on to the Guardian in the end, then wouldn't that mean it doesn't matter if he darkens his soul further beforehand? Finally, Weaver remembers that he's Rumple in just the 4TH EPISODE, and so his cop act isn't nearly as entertaining as it started out as because now it's just that: an act.

He ends up having a fairly good self-sacrificial send-off against his dark self in the finale, made acceptable because the relationships he built with Rogers / Wish Hook and Tilly / Alice are believable, but like I said before, it doesn't make up for dragging him out as a character so long past its natural expiration date back at the end of Season 5. Rest in peace, Rumple. You started out so perfectly and deserved so much better than the derailment you received.

* Rogers / Wish Hook is here out of necessity rather than because it was Adam and Eddy's first choice. You see, they were courting four actors for Season 7: Robert Carlyle, Lana Parilla, Colin O'Donoghue, and Jennifer Morrison. The clear plan was for Rogers to be Hook and for Tilly / Alice to be his and Emma's child. But because Morrison did the right thing in not signing on, and Hook being separated from Emma would make no sense and not go over well with viewers, and so they changed it so that Rogers is actually the old, fat, drunken Hook of the Wish Realm, magically de-aged. His new backstory ends up making what was played as a crass, unfunny joke in Season 6 retroactively sad, as being separated from his daughter by Gothel through a curse placed upon his heart drove him into an alcoholic depression.

This works so much better for the character, his dynamic with Rumple, and Rumple's ultimate sacrifice (the thought of the original Hook having to befriend Rumple and be in his eternal debt makes my stomach turn). It also reflects very well on Killian Jones in general that BOTH versions of him, regardless if one of them never met Emma, ended up putting revenge behind them and becoming fathers and heroic police officers, as opposed to the Wish Realm's Regina and Rumple who remained unrepentant when things didn't go their way. Colin O'Donoghue plays Wish Hook as brilliantly as he does original Hook, managing to make him feel familiar yet unique, and selling the Hell out of his relationship with his daughter.

* Sabine / Tiana of The Princess and the Frog fame is also a regular character now. As Sabine, she's fine and lives up to her source material in being the owner of a food truck, struggling to make ends meet and valuing hard work. But as Tiana, she is a complete butchery. Tiana was NOT a Princess by birth! Making her one and making her arc another tired "learning how to be a good ruler" one is completely missing the character's appeal. And because Sabine ends up remembering her past life, it undermines her own arc when she's used to conclude that rulership arc too, making a speech about belief that's only marginally better than Henry's infamous New York fountain one. In short, she's this season's requisite screwed over regular, and while there have been worse, there have been better too.

* Victoria Belfrey / Lady Tremaine was never a particularly interesting villainess, being stuck in the shadow of both Regina from Season 1 and the far superior version of Lady Tremaine that we just had in Season 6. She only got less effective when we find out that she's not even behind this Dark Curse; her daughter is. And then there's the final, greatest mistake made with the character: they revealed that she is, in fact, her realm's version of Rapunzel. Yes, they turned Rapunzel into the same character as Lady fucking Tremaine! Maybe that sounded like a good idea to them at the time, but it's just stupid beyond belief and comes off as a forced way of tying her in with Gothel more strongly and giving her a sympathetic backstory. Sorry, it didn't work. I felt absolutely nothing for her when she died in the midseason finale, except for relief that she's finally gone. On a show that used to give us such great villains and such great character writing, Rapunzel Tremaine failed as both.

* Ivy Belfrey / Drizella, who in Hyperion Heights is her mother's personal secretary, had the potential to be a different kind of villain that we'd ever really had on the show before: a punch-clock villain who did bad things because it was her job and she wanted to please her mother but otherwise was not a malicious person and was capable of cordial interaction with the heroes. Adelaide Kade sold it perfectly in her performance and I was all set and ready to like this character. But then the show ruins it by revealing that not only does she actually retain her memories from her realm, she's actually the one who cast the Dark Curse and is competing with her mother for the status of Big Bad. All of those cordial interactions with the heroes were fake, it was all manipulation on her part. Aaaaand there went my interest in the character. Adam and Eddy have never learned that twists aren't always good, and sometimes things are far more effective and compelling when they are left exactly as they seem to be. By the time we got to Ivy's "work at redemption, then backslide severely, then be redeemed at the last minute anyway" send-off, I didn't even care. She was such a wasted character.

* Eloise Gardener / Mother Gothel is the true Big Bad of the Hyperion Heights Saga, introduced in episode 3 and making it increasingly obvious that she is the one manipulating events and other villains such as Victoria and Ivy.  I will give Gothel this: she is far more repulsive and intimidating than the Black Fairy was in the previous season, and her death at the hands of her own offspring is much more epic as opposed to Fiona's anticlimactic end.

But sometimes there is such thing as being too good at what you do, and Gothel is too good at her brand of villainy to be enjoyable. Keeping Rapunzel locked in a tower isn't enough for this version of the character, now she has to disguise as Rapunzel and rape Wish Hook, then giving birth to their daughter Alice and keeping her locked in the tower. And when her father tries to rescue her, she magically poisons his heart so that he'll die in close proximity to Alice. How callous and casual she is in her manipulations and hurting of people makes her more loathsome than any prior villain, and not in the fun Love To Hate way either. She also ends up having a pathetic last-minute backstory about being a tree nymph who caused the Land Without Magic to lose its magic in the first place after starring in a variation of Stephen King's Carrie that left her people genocided and her vengeful retaliation turned her into...Mother Nature. Yes, Mother Gothel is Mother Nature. What is up the show's combining of characters, something that used to be clever, having turned into something so fucking ridiculous!?

* Kelly West / Zelena enters the story arc at the halfway point. While Rebecca Mader is always a joy to see, this is Zelena's weakest showing in the series by far. She only has two things going on here: mother/daughter angst between her and Robin, and a truly bizarre plotline where she somehow stumbled upon an alternate Hansel, Gretel and their father and did wrong by them, which fuels Hansel's feelings of vengeance in the present day. These kinds of "past sins of a redeemed villain" plotlines were long worn out when they were done in Season 6, and they're especially unbearable now. Also, when you realize that it's only the mainstay villain actors (Parilla, Carlyle, O'Donoghue and Mader) who received significant roles in this final season, you get an uncomfortable picture of where Adam and Eddy's priorities have always lay and get the sense that this season is them completely unchained.

* Baron Samdi / Dr. Facilier is essentially the next Jafar, a good villain played by a good actor (Daniel Francis is practically a British version of Keith David) who is wasted and amounts to nothing in the grand scheme of things. But whereas Jafar suffered from having too little screentime, Facilier suffers from having too much. He's generally fine as Facilier in the flashbacks, but as Baron Samdi in the present day, he gets brought in as a major character in the second half of the arc despite the arc being far too overloaded as it is. He then goes out to be responsible for several of the dumbest plot turns: Ivy's egregious backtracking on her redemption as she tries to kill her sister, Roni getting into a sexual relationship with him, the Candy Killer...all as part of his aim to obtain the Dark One Dagger and become the new Dark One, which never even comes close to happening because, out of nowhere, he is stabbed in the back by Wish Rumple before the two-part finale. I suspect if the show had been renewed for a Season 8, Facilier was meant to be Rumple's replacement since part of Carlyle's contract renegotiation said that he would absolutely be gone after this season. But because that obviously didn't happen, the character just becomes another overcomplication to this arc.

* Because she doesn't remember being Adult Henry's wife, Jacinda gets a new boyfriend in Hyperion Heights named Nick Branson, who is actually Adult Henry's old friend Jack, a version of the lead from Jack and the Beanstalk in a certain realm. That could have worked if they left it at that, but of course Adam and Eddy overcomplicate things: it turns out he isn't really Jack, but actually a version of Hansel from Hansel and Gretel, who became a witch hunter and killer due to a negative (and horribly written) experience he had with Zelena as a teenager. When his memories are restored by Baron Samdi in the present day, Nick becomes the Candy Killer, a serial killer of all whom he suspects of being witches, and he always leaves candy behind at the scene of the crime. He ends up going after Zelena, is defeated and arrested, and then killed by Samdi for failing to accomplish what he was supposed to. His story might just be the stupidest plotline in this entire arc, which is saying something.

* Last but not least are the new characters that don't just actually work, but work beautifully: Tilly / Alice, the daughter of Wish Hook and Gothel through deceptive rape, and Margot / Robin, the daughter of the late Robin Hood and Zelena through deceptive rape. These two are both highly insecure girls who try their best to mask their troubles: Tilly / Alice with whimsical humor and Margot / Robin with combative bravado. But they learn to overcome their issues after meeting each other and becoming friends...and then going beyond that by becoming lovers. Yes, these two are the show's second attempt at a lesbian couple following the disaster that was Ruby and Dorothy, and through some surprisingly good writing, even better acting, and off-the-charts adorable chemistry, it succeeds. Whenever Tilly / Alice and Margot / Robin are sharing the screen together, it feels like a much different, much better show. They are hands down the best part of Season 7; nothing else even comes close.

* Notable side characters include Anastasia, Victoria's younger daughter and Ivy's younger sister who died in the past but gets resurrected in the present; Eudora, who is Sabine / Tiana's mother; Drew / Naveen, who is Sabine / Tiana's love interest; Remy, a local caterer in Hyperion Heights; Captain Ahab, a rival of Wish Hook's who he competes with over ownership of Maui's fish hook, and the Coven of Eight witches that serve under Gothel.

Most of the old cast who are no longer regulars make return appearances in cameo roles, primarily in the finale, but we also get teenage Henry in the 1st and 20th episodes, Emma in the 2nd episode, and Belle in the 4th episode where she passes away.  We are also reintroduced to the Wish Realm's versions of Rumple, who serves as the arc and show's Final Boss, and Henry, who uses his Author powers to help Rumple in exchange for exacting revenge on Regina for leaving him orphaned. We also get to see the Wish Realm's versions of Regina, Peter Pan, Cruella De Vil, Ariel, the Blue Fairy and the Sorcerer's Apprentice.

Atmosphere - Like Season 6, there is no particular atmosphere to be felt from this show anymore, only a roller coaster of madness. This time it even extends to the finale! At least "The Final Battle" had a distinct atmosphere, even if it wasn't a particularly good one! Hyperion Heights as a setting has a lot to do with this - you would think finally moving on from Storybrooke would be good due to how ruined it had been as a setting at this point, but Hyperion Heights is somehow even more boring! It's supposed to be a neighborhood of a huge city, a city full of normal people in a Land Without Magic, but when it's always just the fairy tale characters running into each other and magical events constantly happening at a far more significant rate than they did in Season 1's Storybrooke, it doesn't feel that way at all.

Episode Quality - I can count the number of easily watchable episodes on two hands. The two-part premiere, "Hyperion Heights" and "A Pirate's Life", the entirety of "The Girl in the Tower" and "The Guardian", select parts of "Breadcrumbs", "Chosen", "Flower Child" and "Is This Henry Mills?", and the majority of the two-part finale prior to its very last act. None of the episodes are close to perfect, but there are decent elements that I appreciate in them.

Everything else, including other parts of some of the episodes listed above, is garbage.

If Season 6's frequent problem was that episodes were bad due to poor plotting, derailed characterization, and a sense of misery being conveyed, this season's frequent problem is that the episodes just HURT to take in and think about. For a show that has increasingly used magic as an excuse for its writing to be as nonsensical as possible, this is the only season where that nonsensical writing became too much for me and many other viewers to bear. Relying so heavily on the Wish Realm in addition to these alternate version realms, plus later adding time travel to the equation, makes the Hyperion Heights Saga nigh-impossible to follow, and with the villains and objectives and stakes constantly changing on a whim, it's practically impossible to get emotionally invested in anyone or anything. The connections between Rumple / Weaver, Wish Hook / Rogers, Alice / Tilly and Robin / Margot are the exception, but ultimately they're just a small part of one large and obnoxiously cluttered canvas. Seasons 2 and 6 combined can't match how incoherent this seasonal story arc is.

And now..........SIGH.......let's talk about that finale and that ending, shall we?

"Homecoming" / "Leaving Storybrooke" initially seems like it's going to be a lot better than Season 5 and Season 6's finales, bringing back the silly but exciting fantasy adventure w/ lots of familiar faces vibe of the Season 3 and Season 4 finales back. It even feels like the kind of thing that should have happened back in Season 5: a two-part series finale that is loosely connected but mostly divorced from the preceding story arc that just wrapped up. But then, toward the end of the first part, we get the revelation of Wish Henry as Wish Rumple's accomplice, and it's all downhill from there. Don't get me wrong, Jared Gilmore is amazing in the role, truly chilling in a way that, when combined with his performance as Pan in Henry's body in Season 3, suggests playing villains is where this young actor's future lies. But his motivation being to seek vengeance on Regina for wronging him makes the outcome of this conflict all too clear if you've been paying attention to this show and its treatment of Regina and her victims, and it instantaneously deflates any excitement you may have been feeling.

The second part only gets worse and worse. Snow and Charming show up just because it's the final episode and proceed to barely do anything, while Adult Henry does even less despite this being the end of what was initially billed as his story. And then Regina faces Wish Henry, and I have to note that the Regina/Henry mother-son relationship already reached extremely uncomfortable levels in the climactic "Is This Henry Mills?" where in Storybrooke she was obsessed with keeping teenage Henry from leaving town while in Hyperion Heights she was given True Love's Kiss by Adult Henry (who looks near the same age as her and did it in more of a romantic way than a familial one) which broke the curse...after attempts at True Love's Kiss on Jacinda and Lucy did not work! I'm sorry, IS this Henry Mills? Or is it Norman Bates!? Anyway, Regina allows herself to be killed by Wish Henry and as a result...he doesn't kill her, instead breaking down crying and calling her "Mom". HUH!? Regina is not remotely Wish Henry's mother! He has no history with her other than her being the one who murdered his grandparents and stole his actual mother, Emma, away! But just because he's a version of Henry, he's obligated to fold and become Regina's good little boy!? Come ON!

Both versions of Rumple die in a very well-done scene ("No more Rumple...?"), but as sweet as it is that our Rumple did it for Wish Hook, the closest thing to a friend he's ever had, I still would have much preferred him to do it for Gideon in "The Final Battle", with Dark Rumple in place of Wish Rumple. Following a long, awkward, tearful soliloquy over his dead body by Regina, we see Rumple reunite with Belle...in Purgatory. Yeah, I'd have preferred to not see if he and Belle reunited at all since it would make his sacrifice more powerful and his words of "You don't do the right thing for a reward, you do it because it's right" more meaningful, at least the usage of a black soundstage with dried ice-induced fog plus the effect of Belle beaming down in a flash of light gives the solid impression that Rumple couldn't make it to Heaven and Belle is just coming to join him in Purgatory, against Adam and Eddy's explicit desires (Eddy was hilariously frantic and displeased when he learned that many viewers took away "Rumple went to Purgatory" from this scene rather than "Rumple went to Heaven".)

AND THEN. For no fucking reason at all, Regina suddenly gets the idea to cast the Dark Curse again, but this time through being given a small piece from the hearts of her loved ones rather than taking the whole heart of the one she loves most. Somehow, this results in all of the realms being merged together in what has got to be a chaotic dystopian nightmare given how different they all are and the fact that nobody in those realms ever gave their consent for their homes to be uprooted. And yet the show treats this as a good thing! All of the confusing at best, horrific at worst implications just flew past Adam and Eddy's heads!

After a passing line about Lily finding her father, Zorro (really!?), Regina is guided to her castle where everyone is gathered. Snow and Charming tell her that she's been "elected" the high queen of all the realms. They give her a coronation, with Emma, Hook and her baby entering late in a forced callback to how Regina entered the show (hey, remember when Emma used to be the main fucking character?), and then Regina is dubbed "the Good Queen", everyone (with Snow and Charming leading the way) bowing down to her, and she proceeds to end the show on a big hope speech played over clips from the show, concluding with "I thought my story came to an end a long time ago, and then new people came into my life...people who gave me a second chance. I can't wait to see what's store for me next." Then a pause before adding "Well, for everyone." And she lived happily ever after. The End.

When I first saw this, I couldn't believe what I was watching. Even now, it still doesn't quite feel real to me. To think that Adam and Eddy would go this far with their abominable worship of Regina, that they would saddle their show with the most preposterous, nonsensical, insulting, bad fanfic-grade Mary Sue resolutions imaginable...I can hardly find the words to describe my feelings on the matter. It is a slap in the face to anyone who bought into the initial premise of the show being Emma's fairy tale, that the ending would center around her and how she's no longer alone and has a large family who loves her, and that regardless of whether she's redeemed or not Regina would face some measure of justice for how badly she affected everyone's lives, especially Snow, Charming and Emma's, who are now giving up the thrones that are rightfully theirs to a freaking usurper, oppressor, and war criminal!

It's also a slap in the face to Regina's original character, where a point was made that being queen and having power and privileges over everyone else wouldn't be her happy ending and that it was something that Cora forced upon her. Remember this particular exchange?

Cora: We’ve been through this. In two days, you’ll be married – you’ll be Queen. After that, you’re free to go – whenever you’re with him.

Regina: Momma, I don’t want to marry the King! I don’t want this life!

Cora: You’re just frightened of having all that power.

Regina: I don’t want power! I want to be free!

Cora: Power is freedom. Don’t worry. I’m here to show you.

And in the end, Cora was right! Regina's happy ending, her greatest freedom, is having all of the power in all of the realms. To not just be a Queen, but THE Queen, a supreme ruler.

How is this shit hopeful to anyone but power-hungry oppressors and abusers? The message it sends is that you can do the worst things imaginable, but still end up with "a second chance" (which is actually not a second chance, but just the latest of many chances you gleefully threw away) and end up with everything you could possibly want in the end, with all of your former victims literally bowing down to you and your greatness? It's the final proof that Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis have no sense of human shame or decency whatsoever. Being poor storytellers isn't the worst of their problems - being downright bad people is.

Overall - Nobody wanted this season, nobody asked for it, and it never should have been greenlit. It is an unhappy ending to a once-magical fairy tale, and it just breaks my heart.

But tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Can my heart possibly be mended? Stay tuned...

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 23/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver get a big break in the case, but find it tempered by the mountain of missing pieces.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt: We’re all a little stronger than we think we are. I've barely read this over before posting, sorry for all the typos.

[AO3]  

We’re all a little stronger than we think we are.

Dr. Hopper’s parting words replayed in Belle’s mind as she walked the three blocks back to her office.

The last few days had been lighter than any since her work on the Branson case had begun. A weight had been lifted by her confession to both Archie and Ian, and the therapy session which she was just leaving had only added to it. Today, their topics focused on ways she could relax and control any future panic attacks, which she assumed she would probably need no matter how much she wanted to tell herself otherwise.

The weekend had been quiet and comfortable. She and Weaver had worked some on Saturday, but admittedly they were distracted by movies on TV and each other. Sunday, they’d gone for a walk in a nearby park, and by the time they got back to the apartment, she was ready to tear his jeans off. Smiling, she pulled a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was quite certain that the only other time she’d had more sex in a forty-eight hour period was when they’d been on their honeymoon.

He hadn’t said anything about the miscarriage after Friday night, and she hadn’t either. She wasn’t sure what he was feeling or thinking about it, or if he was at all. Several times she’d almost brought it up, but always hesitated when the moment came, afraid to shatter the cocoon of safety and happiness they’d created for one weekend. She was determined to talk it over with Dr. Hopper next week, before she dared to breach the subject with Weaver. Archie would know the best way to go about it, and he would help her get her mind straight beforehand, as he had many times when she was practicing her closing argument for an important case.

Monday had brought no news from Nevada, but this morning she’d gotten a call from Clark County letting her know to expect something by no later than Wednesday. It put an extra spring in her step as she pushed the revolving door to the city building that housed the District Attorney’s office. Her cell phone chirped in her coat pocket, and she pressed the elevator button before pulling it out. An notification lit up on the screen, an email to her official account, but the lift was already moving and her signal went out as it began the slow climb to the sixth floor.

Belle shoved her phone back in her pocket and stepped off the elevator, wanting to wait until she was with Weaver before she read the email, just in case it was good news. Her lips parted as she rounded the corner and saw his outline through the frosted glass of her office. He was seated at the conference table, leaning back, as far as she could tell, and a naughty idea on how they might celebrate this possible good news flashed across her mind.

Weaver turned as she opened the office door, and smiled. “Go well?”

She nodded and walked over to her desk. “Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Then she held up her phone and grinned. “I have an email.”

“Just one? I’ll alert the media,” he deadpanned, pushing back from the conference table.

Belle rolled her eyes and dropped her purse in her bottom drawer before kicking off her walking flats and wiggling her feet back into her work heels. “From the Clark County Clerk.”

Weaver stood, his mouth curving crookedly. “Say that five times fast.”

“You’re the worst.”

He laughed as she pulled out her chair. “And yet you love me.”

She huffed and pushed up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Allegedly.”

He made a soft ‘oh’ sound and slipped an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. “I have a fair bit of evidence from this weekend that says otherwise.”

Belle bit her lip and smiled as he dipped his head and kissed her neck. “None of which is admissible in court.”

Weaver’s nose nudged at her ear as he chuckled and whispered, “You’re the only judge I care about convincing anyway.”

Giggling, she shoved his chest until he stepped back, and then shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. Now, can I check my email?”

He gave her a sly look, but motioned towards her computer. Her stomach flipped as she sat down and opened the lid of her laptop, hoping that what they would find wouldn’t kill the delightful buzzing anticipation between them. It seemed to take twice as long for her email to open and the new message to appear, and she started tapping her foot impatiently while Weaver’s hand squeezed the back of her chair. She clicked on the message, opening it in a full window so they could both read it.

They exchanged a look, and Belle scooted forward, saving the attached documents to the folder for the case. There were three in all, a scanned image of Molly Macreedy’s foster care agreement, and two exported PDFs from the Nevada DMV database containing the records for her foster parents. The image had been pasted into the email and stated her foster parents’ surname as Tremaine. Belle opened the DMV records for each parent, putting them side by side on the screen before she sat back in her chair.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Weaver said, breathless.

“No wonder we couldn’t find anything on Eloise Gardener,” Belle said. “She never existed.”

“Eloise Tremaine,” Weaver began, sticking the DMV photo up on the whiteboard next to a picture from Eloise Gardener’s autopsy. “Former foster parent to our first victim, Molly Macreedy, aka Baby Jane number 3-2-5. She was left at a fire station in North Las Vegas, estimated to be about three weeks old at the time.”

Detective Rogers shook his head and put up the DMV photo of Robert Tremaine on the other side of the board before turning to face Captain Graham Humbert, Belle, and DA Midas. “Robert Tremaine, real estate developer from Henderson, married Eloise Smith in 1993. They had no kids of their own, but had at least fifteen foster children, that we know of.”

“We’re still waiting on all the records from Nevada,” Belle added.

“Robert died in March of 2013,” Weaver continued, leaning against the wall of bookshelves in Belle’s office. “No particulars on that just yet, but shortly after that any paper trail on his wife goes cold.”

“What about his estate?” Graham asked, frowning.

Weaver shrugged. “Real estate records show the sale of the house was handled by an attorney. That’s all we have on that so far.”

Midas leaned forward on the table. “Tremaine’s business, anything about that? Real estate development in Vegas was pretty lucrative at that time.”

“And fairly shady.” Rogers’ eyebrows lifted. “We’re looking into possible organized crime connections with that, but that’s a whole can of worms unrelated to our serial murders.”

Graham flipped through the small packet of papers Belle had compiled thus far. “What was Eloise doing in Seattle?”

“We don’t know,” Weaver answered. “If there is a link to the mob with her husband’s business, it would stand to reason that she’d want to get away from Vegas, but Seattle doesn’t seem far enough to run from that kind of thing.”

“But,” Belle interjected. “It doesn’t explain how Jack and Nick Branson knew about the history between Molly and Eloise, or why they were killed.”

“So...you have adoption records and foster parents for one victim, from another state, and not much else.” Graham looked around at the group and dropped the papers back on the table.

“Hey, we -”

“Now wait -”

Weaver and Rogers start defending themselves at the exact same moment, but stopped when Midas stood up.

“Captain Humbert is right,” Midas said. “It’s interesting background, and it’s a possible lead to - something - but it’s not helping us build a case against the Bransons, and this office -.”

“Nick Branson worked construction in Las Vegas,” Belle interrupted. “Maybe that’s the connection. Maybe it’s through Robert Tremaine’s business that he - I don’t know - came into some contact with Eloise.”

Midas frowned and looked at Graham a moment before fixing Belle with a hard stare. “Follow it up, but don’t waste time on goose chases and rabbit holes. The murders were here in Seattle, not in Las Vegas. We’re not even sure Eloise was murdered by the Bransons -”

Belle attempted to interrupt him again, but his glare quieted her immediately. “You’ve shown me no definitive proof that she was. Meanwhile, we have five victims that we do know they killed, and a trial for them starting in two months. I’d like to avoid that kind of public spectacle if at all possible and get these two psychopaths to take a deal on those five murders.”

The tension in the room made Belle uncomfortable and her eyes darted to meet Weavers’ before shifting back to her boss.

“Am I clear, ADA French?”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, detectives,” Midas said, nodding to Rogers and Weaver. “Captain Graham.”

Midas strode out of the office, and everyone left in the room collectively sagged in defeat. The air of excitement that Belle and Weaver had maintained for the last thirty-six hours at the news of Eloise Gardener’s real identity fizzled to nothing as Belle laid her head down on the conference table.

Weaver shot a look at Graham. “What the hell crawled up his arse?”

Graham sighed and ran a hand over his face. “The mayor,” he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “the city council, Alderman Samedi, Victoria Belfrey…”

“Belfrey?” Belle said, lifting her head. “What the hell does she care?”

“Apparently she had a deal with Samedi to build cost controlled housing on that vacant lot,” Graham explained. “The whole thing is in limbo now because the lot is a crime scene and hasn’t been released, and we can’t do that until we move forward on Eloise Gardener’s, or Tremaine’s, or - whoever the hell she is’s - murder.”

“So no pressure then,” Rogers muttered flatly, snapping the cap on one of the dry erase markers.

Belle pushed back from the conference table and stood up. “Okay,” she said, holding up both of her hands, palms outward. “We need a new plan. Rogers, figure out where the hell Eloise was living in Seattle. Hopefully having her actual last name will yield more results, but there could be something under her husband’s name, or his company. Ian and I will focus on the other victims, and see if any more of them are also adopted, or were in foster care.”

Then she turned to Graham and gave him a sickly sweet smile, that hand him rolling his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Captain Humbert, if you could please reach out to your federal law enforcement contacts, and see if there’s even a whiff of organized crime around Robert Tremaine, that would be most especially helpful.”

Graham let out a snorting laugh, and gave Belle a salute with two fingers before he gathered up his things. “Yes, ma’am.”

Plans made, and men dispersed, Belle was left alone in her office. She sat down on the sofa, head in her hands, and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly between her lips. Archie’s voice was once again in her head, and for a long moment she let herself focus on it, trying to block out the irritated voice of her boss and the nagging on in her head that set her anxiety up to an eleven.

Feeling calmer, Belle looked up, her eyes staring straight ahead at the white board with pictures of Robert and Eloise Tremaine hanging side by side. She pushed to her feet and walked towards her, her vision narrowing to the image of Eloise, with that awkward expression so common with driver’s license photos.

“Why were you in Seattle, Eloise?” she asked no one. “What were you running from?”

[queenofglassbeliever]

There's one thing about the Vidrio-Belfrey family I've been curious about. (Regarding their cursed selfs)

Did Jacinda's mother marry Ivy's father? And then he remarried Ivy's mother, Victoria? Or was it a more traditional situation? Did Jacinda's father (by whom I don't mean Marcus, but cursed memories of some dude) marry Victora? Did Cursed! Cecelia marry Victora? XD

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Real Housewives of Storybrooke (18/?)

A fic based on this premise here, following the lives of Storybrooke’s elite wives, with all the scandal, bitching and backstabbing that goes on behind the scenes of high society…

This verse is open for prompts!

====

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [Thirteen] [Fourteen] [Fifteen] [Sixteen] [Seventeen] [AO3]

====

ARIEL

“Well, I don’t think we can deny that we had an interesting night last night.” Ariel stirred a generous helping of sugar into her coffee and looked at her watch. “Where is this guy anyway? And what possessed us to have a brunch meeting the day after the gala?”

“It was the only day that he could do,” Eric said. “He’s coming from California, so we should probably be accommodating if we’re hoping to get any business out of him.”

“Well, the least that he can do is turn up on time.” Ariel sighed, taking a huge gulp of coffee before looking at the menu. “Screw it. The next time the waiter comes over and asks if we’re ok, I’m ordering. Politeness only goes so far on an empty stomach.”

“Do you think that this will put a dampener on Zelena’s enthusiasm for causing havoc?” Eric asked. 

Ariel made a face. “Of course not. She’ll probably just move her focus for a while. Belle’s proved that she’s not to be messed with, and that’ll knock her for six a bit, but then she’ll be back with a new target.” She paused. “It does make me wonder who she’ll pick, though. She’s failed with me and Belle, she’d never succeed with Regina, and Mary Margaret’s got bigger things to worry about…” She trailed off as the restaurant doors opened, peering around Eric to get a better look at who was coming in. “Speak of the devil.”

Eric surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder, and both of them watched Zelena enter the restaurant, looking around furtively before allowing herself to be led to a free table. She didn’t see Ariel and Eric in their corner.

“I wonder why she’s acting so secretive then? It can’t be out of embarrassment at Robyn dragging her out of the party last night. I don’t think embarrassment is in her nature.”

“Well, she’s at a table for two. She’s probably meeting someone.”

“That still doesn’t explain the secretiveness.” Ariel’s eyes narrowed. “She’s up to something. I can tell.”

“New boyfriend?”

“No, no, she likes to show them off.”

“New boyfriend whilst still attached to the old one?”

Ariel considered this for a moment and shrugged. “Perhaps. It’s got to the stage where I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

The doors opened again, and Ariel had to put all thoughts of Zelena and what nefarious schemes she might be planning aside, as their potential client had arrived. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late; I got lost. Storybrooke’s changed a little since I was last here. You’ve certainly come up in the world.”

“It’s fine, Mr Jones,” Eric said. Eric had always been the diplomat out of the two of them, and there were several occasions when Ariel was very glad of it. This was one of them. “We were just about to order, what will you have?”

A waiter appeared next to their table as if he’d teleported there, taking their brunch order. 

“I’ll have the French toast with extra bacon, fruit salad and a side of hash browns.” Ariel handed her menu back to the waiter and raised an eyebrow at Killian Jones as he chuckled. “Do you have a problem with that, Mr Jones?”

“No, no, not in the slightest. I always like to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”

Ariel made no comment, but looked across the table at Eric, who gave a barely perceptible little nod. They’d always had a way of communicating without words, ever since they’d first started dating, and it had become even more nuanced since they had started their business together. They were both thinking the same thing - Killian Jones was definitely one to be watched closely, and not just because Ariel was certain she knew him from somewhere. She didn’t remember seeing him around Storybrooke although he’d said he’d been here before, and she was racking her brains for where she knew the name from. 

The food arrived and the talk turned to business, everyone becoming more comfortable once small talk was off the menu. Ariel was soon distracted from her concerns by hard bargaining, and it was only once they had concluded proceedings and Jones had left that she remembered she’d been spying on Zelena up until the point he’d arrived. 

She looked over at Zelena’s table. She was still there, and now she’d been joined by someone. 

“Uh oh. That cannot be good.”

“What?” Eric muttered. “Don’t tell me, Zelena’s plotting something.”

“Of course Zelena’s plotting something. She’s never not plotting something. I’m more worried about who she’s plotting it with.”

“Yes?”

“She’s with Victoria Belfrey.”

Eric looked over his shoulder and Ariel reached out quickly and turned him back round. “Don’t be so obvious about it! Honestly, you’d make a terrible private eye.”

“I don’t think it’s a job choice for either of us, frankly. What do you think we should do about this?”

Ariel pondered for a moment. “You know, I think we ought to take refuge in audacity. She’s obviously trying to be sneaky about it, and neither of us are very good at being sneaky, so we might as well be obvious. After all, she can’t hold the queen of local gossip-monger forever.”

Eric gave her a pleading look. “Please, love, don’t sink to her level.”

Ariel smiled wickedly. “I have no intention of doing so. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t make her think I’m going to. Let me finish these hash browns and we’ll get started.”

With hash browns eaten and the bill paid, they made their way out of the restaurant, with Ariel purposefully leading Eric past Zelena and Victoria’s table. 

“Oh, Zelena!” she said, stopping suddenly and almost causing a waiter to upend a mimosa over Zelena. “Fancy meeting you here. It seems that everyone’s out for brunch after last night’s festivities. And Ms Belfrey, although I don’t recall seeing you at the party. Still, I’m sure you had a good reason for not attending. I didn’t know that you and Zelena were friends. Anyway, it was lovely to run into you. Must dash.”

With that, she left the restaurant before Zelena could get a word in edgeways, Eric jogging along after her. 

“What was that all about? And now what are you going to do?”

“Now, I am going to do precisely nothing,” Ariel said. “I just wanted to put them out of joint. The trouble with Zelena is that she assumes everyone is like her, so you can bet she’ll be scared stiff that the news of her having a clandestine brunch meeting with the enemy is going to be all over town by tonight. Let her jump to conclusions and try to perform damage limitation. She doesn’t know that you and I’ll be keeping this information to ourselves.”

Eric smiled and wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders as they made their way home. 

“I never had you down as the devious type.”

“Darling, how long have you known me?”

“Ok. True enough.”

Ariel just laughed. It was good to give Zelena a taste of her own medicine once in a while. All the same, she did wonder what they were up to.

BELLE

Belle did not usually consider herself to be a particularly fidgety person, but sitting in the maternity unit waiting room, she found that she just couldn’t keep still.

“It’ll be ok, I promise.” Cameron reached across and closed his hand over her agitated fingers. “Everything will be fine.”

“I know, I know you keep saying that, but you can’t know for certain. I’m just so terrified that something’s going to have gone wrong. I keep thinking that maybe I’ve been wanting this baby too much, and now that I’m finally pregnant and I’ve been so excited and so happy about the whole thing, fate is going to turn around and bite me in the backside.”

“Why would it do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m just scared.” She sighed. “I wasn’t scared until I actually got in here. Up until then, I was really excited to be seeing the baby for the first time. But then everything just started creeping up on me. What if they can’t find a heartbeat?”

“Belle, I am sure that everything will be fine, and if it’s not, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” Cameron leaned across and kissed her, pressing his forehead against hers. “Whatever happens, we’re together. I’ve got you, love.”

“Mrs Gold?” The sonographer came through into the waiting room. “If you’d like to follow me, then we’ll take a look at your baby.”

Belle held Cameron’s hand tightly as they made their way into the sonography room, and the technician got Belle settled on the bed, squeezing out gel over her tummy. 

“You’re ten weeks along, aren’t you?”

Belle nodded. “Yes.”

“Excellent. All right, let’s take a little look.”

It seemed to take an awfully long time of the sonographer moving the wand around and clicking about on the computer screen before she finally spoke, and Belle thought that she might have cut off the circulation in Cameron’s hand, she was squeezing it so hard. Everything had to be ok. She couldn’t have got this far only for things to go wrong now without her even knowing. 

“All right.” The sonographer was smiling as she turned the monitor around so that Belle and Cameron could see it, and Belle let out a huge breath of relief. “Everything’s shaping up very nicely in there. Your baby is about the size of a strawberry, which is just what we’d expect at this stage of the pregnancy.” She pointed out the outline of the baby on the screen, along with the tiny flickering dot at the centre. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat. Everything’s looking just the way we want it to, so all we have to do is make sure that it stays that way. Right now, there’s nothing to worry about in terms of the baby. They’re doing just fine, so just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Belle gave a little sob of relief, and Cameron kissed her cheek. Although their child was barely more than a shape on a screen, it was so good to see it and know that all of her hopes had paid off. 

[priscilla9993]

Rogers and Weaver Scenes

I can’t get enough of the tension and comradery these two have so here’s a summary of key moments. @martianbugsbunny I hope this helps you. :D

7x01 Rogers gets promoted to detective and meets Weaver as his partner

7x02 Before Sabine and Jacinda appear in Roni’s bar, Weaver is parked outside the precinct, upset at Rogers for showing up late (early really since his shift is not for another hour) and having an inflated ego. Rogers thinks he got promoted for his hard work but Weaver states that Rogers only became detective bc he chose him. Why? Well, we get riddles as Rogers gets thrown the keys and forced to drive as the new guy. 

In Belfrey Towers, when they are told to destroy Henry with blackmail, Rogers gets mad at Weaver in the elevator about legality and where loyalties lie. Another moment in Roni’s bar where Roni warns Rogers about Weaver’s partners never staying around long. Definitely in Henry’s apartment with the lightbulb that Rogers knows how to turn on bc he’s been there before. During Lucy’s ballet, where Rogers drops the swan keychain into Henry’s apron pocket and then later gets confronted by Weaver for almost throwing away the expensive blackmail bracelet into a gutter. However, in the process, Rogers has restores Weaver’s belief that the rookie detective has a moral code that can’t be sullied by greed or pressure. Absolutely stunning tension and resolution.

7x03 Rogers does some investigating of his own on Michael Griffiths, a guy working for Victoria, and gets caught by Weaver in the police station. Rogers fibs that he’s late for a court date over parking tickets. Weaver spies on him from the overpass and later, about 25 mins in, releases Griffiths in front of Rogers, explaining how some things aren’t black and white, requiring ‘finesse’. I love how Weaver covers up for Rogers’ mistakes, lawful and righteous as they may seem, and turns them into both a teaching moment and an upperhand on complicated things like cold cases and Victoria.

7x04 Nearly 9 mins in, Rogers and Weaver walk through the park as Weaver explains how Tilly, his informant, has managed to make Victoria fearful. Weaver goes looking for Tilly to use her as a pawn to gain leverage, while Rogers gets emotionally protective of her, realizing Weaver doesn’t care about anyone. Then, big key moment, Weaver wakes up in the hospital bed with Rogers by his side clutching a bullet that tore right through the lucky bastard, ‘must be bloody immortal’. Rumple/Weaver lies about who shot him and orders that Tilly can go free, gaining Rogers’s empathy of “Well, perhaps you do care about her” as Rumple pretends to be Weaver with an uncaring attitude and rude remark.

7x06 Cute back and forth in hospital as Weaver decides to leave the medical facility early, walking out and kicking the wheelchair, as Rogers clearly takes joy in seeing the older man be stubborn but not as threatening as before. This takes a sour turn as Weaver makes it clear he’s not nice as he warns Rogers about having errands to run later.

7x07 Rogers finds the dead body of a guy he interviewed and arrested a few days before. Weaver shows up to the crime scene and takes Rogers off the case for emotional attachment and obsession with a cold case, along with investigating without proper procedure or communication between partners. Rogers accuses him of being shady and working with Victoria Belfrey to cover up something in the Heights or regarding Eloise Gardener. Another big key moment: Rogers and Weaver dance the line across each other’s personal space in the evidence room as Rogers gets rightfully upset over Weaver’s lies and sneaky actions, using Tilly as a pawn and a fake painted journal page to trick him into believing the girl from his cold case is dead. Weaver states that ‘obsessions can be dangerous things’ and cryptically admits that he had good reason for being prickly, wanting to protect Rogers from his easily short tempered and stubbornly headstrong self, the person who can’t see that Eloise Gardener isn’t who he is truly looking for. 

7x08 Rogers solved the cold case and Eloise is now free, but Weaver warns him in the police station that he has no idea what he just blew wide open. 

7x09 Ten minutes in, Weaver escorts Victoria out of the police station jail under the notion of Rogers failing to obtain a warrant despite exigent circumstances. Rogers is sure that Weaver made the judge look the other way and that there’s something fishy going on. Weaver advises he keep his head down, not dig for clues, and heed past advice. The episode’s last bit is important and sticks clear in my head XD. Near the end of the episode, Rogers asks Weaver who or what he’s looking for, drawing of dagger in hand. Rogers isn’t going to take any bs and wants the truth since all Weaver has been doing is speaking in riddles or shutting him out. Rogers gives him the chance to be honest and Rumple does him a favor by backing out of his Weaver persona, explaining the best he can without sounding insane about how everything he’s done currently is an attempt to get back to his wife. While the two may be on rocky terms, this creates a solid foundation and understanding based on newfound trust, Rogers insisting to help and Weaver asking him to help find Lucy. (just gonna cry over here from these two finally being partners on equal ground)

7x10 Quite the blink it and miss it kind of scene. At the end of the episode, Rogers and Tilly find Weaver in a messy evidence room, torn ‘all upside down’, ready to tell him about the wagon wheel graffiti symbol found on the streets, behind the Troll. Weaver shows them a coin with the same symbol and Rogers knows the older detective probably has an explanation, but doesn’t want to hear it as he can tell it won’t make sense or be believable.

7x11 Twelve mins in, Weaver tries to tell Rogers the truth about Eloise Gardener, how she’s a cult leader who repeated the actions of what was done to her, leading to the kidnapping of a teenager named Anastasia. Rogers doesn’t want to believe he freed a bad or dangerous person so he leaves the precinct to prove her innocence. 24 minutes in, after Rogers visited Eloise in her apartment, he finds himself doubting Eloise’s innocence, ‘unable to find unassailable proof’. One thing’s for sure, Rogers has a nose for the truth and wants to know what Eloise is hiding, trusting Weaver’s next plan of action, the search for greenhouses. After finding Ivy holding a dead Victoria, Rogers gains an open mind on what is considered good or evil as Weaver says things are about to get darker in Hyperion Heights.

7x12 Sixteen minutes in, Rogers and Weaver are on the case of Andrea Sage’s murder and what connects to it. They meet gingerbread baker with the wagon wheel tattoo. Luckily, they come back to the bakery later and find the passed out baker in the kitchen with turned on gas stoves, saving her life. 

7x13 Unrelated but can someone please give Tilly a hug? Rogers is getting played like a fiddle by Eloise as she emotionally torments him in return for sharing relevant info. Weaver has to sit out and watch through cameras since she won’t speak with him near. They gain info on heart shaped chocolate boxes and talk to flower shop owner to no avail. At the end of the episode, Tilly caught in a compromising murder situation, the two detectives can tell she’s been framed and choose to protect her. Weaver explains what the other police could see as motive, sharing with Rogers her tragic history, and buys him time to go find Tilly and prove her innocence.

7x14 Seven minutes in, Rogers calls the current case ‘The Candy Killer Case’ as Weaver glues a porcelain teacup (iconic chipped cup) back together. Them wishing each other well on some time off or away from the case is so sweet. 

7x16 Rogers and Weaver scout the Belfrey Towers parking lot for the Candy Killer’s trail. The two dads discuss their parenting techniques as Tilly gets a proper job lol. As an analogy, Weaver supplies fish as Rogers teaches Tilly how to fish. Somehow they find the killer’s book of scribbled book margins and relation to story. How? It’s a magical macguffin. 

7x18 They find Hansel/Jack/Nick dead inside of the interrogation room. Separate character moments in this. Not much else to say.

7x20 Twelve mins in, Rogers gets back to the police station after running out from the underground theater. Weaver tries to gently tell and explain to him the truth, why his connection to Tilly and sense of purpose to do good stems from the past life he can’t remember. Then a bit of comedy as they recruit Margot to try and wake up Tilly from the spell casting ritual. Absolutely sweet as Rumple and Killian get to be like old rivals that have gone soft or grown with maturity. 

7x21 and 22 Killian is there for Rumple as he explains the hobbling of himself to avoid war, them saying why they’re friends as they pound against the glass in the magical snowglobe that is blizzarding over, and the heart exchange.

Overall, I’m amazed at how many scenes they had with each other as detective partners (as I had forgotten so many of these) and still happily torn up at how the built up trust led to less tension and more heartfelt scenes. 

[abovethemists]

(Banner by the lovely @desperatemurph!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 

Read it on AO3

A/N: The barest amount of angst in this chapter, but it’s still going to be a mostly fluffy fic. 

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t wait for the weekend.

To his amazement, things had been going very well with Isabelle. He wasn’t certain how he’d managed to woo Belle herself, much less her cursed counterpart, and could only chalk it up to the mysterious magic of true love. In Hyperion Heights he didn’t even have the magic, power or wealth he’d possessed in other realms, not that Belle had ever been impressed by any of those things. He was just himself, as much as he could be while wearing the mantle of Detective Weaver, and it had been enough.

So far, they’d been spending most of their time together with Eli, and while Rumple soaked up every moment afforded with his son, he was very much looking forward to a little alone time with his wife. They had plans for dinner together on Sunday, just the two of them. It would be the first time they’d done something alone together in weeks. The relationship between Weaver and Isabelle was still so new and it was hard not to rush things when he missed Belle so very much. He’d been the first to kiss her, though Isabelle had initiated kisses since. He’d decided he would follow her lead when it came to anything physical, but that didn't stop his mind from wandering.

Pleasant recollections left him smiling more often than not these days and Rogers, for one, had noticed.

“We’re at a crime scene,” his partner said flatly one afternoon as they’d investigated a break in at a local bakery. “Can you at least pretend you care?”

The owner had been knocked unconscious and was being transported to a local hospital, and yet Weaver was grinning at a cheeky text from Isabelle.

Most days, Rumple liked Hook’s Wish Realm counterpart far more than the one he’d known for 200 years. But some days he was just as annoying as the original.

“You take things too seriously,” he shot back. “Maybe you should go out every once in a while. Get laid.”

Rogers' lips twisted wryly. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly encouraged in the first year of sobriety I’m afraid.”

Weaver clapped a hand against Rogers’ shoulder before heading out of the open doors of the bakery. They’d need to follow up with the victim once she was awake.

“Maybe a puppy then,” he said with a smirk. “A plant? Something to go home to at night.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Rogers said, following him outside. “I remember the stories about you before we were made partners. The hard-nosed Jacob Weaver, best arrest record in the precinct, never takes a day off. A few dates with a ballerina and you’re a changed man.”

“Oh you’ve no idea,” Weaver called over his shoulder.

Saturday morning dawned bright and cool, the sun blinking weakly from behind scattered clouds. He was picking up Isabelle and Eli at noon to take them to the game so he’d gone in to the station early that morning to get some work done. He was glad of the resources afforded to him by his position in the police department, but he’d come no closer to discovering who had cast the curse. Victoria Belfrey was in quite the place of power, but Lady Tremaine had no reason to want the curse cast. Her little witch of a daughter seemed thoroughly cursed. He’d seen neither hide nor hair of Gothel, and that made him nervous. Meanwhile he actually had a job to do. He almost missed Mr. Gold’s pawnshop at times. He’d never had to do much actual work in Storybrooke, left to his own machinations. Pounding the pavement with Rogers, hunting down leads, was far more exhausting.

He was filling out a report from an arrest made the day before when his phone lit up, vibrating against his desk. He glanced down at it and couldn’t suppress the smile that crossed his face when he recognized Isabelle’s number.

“The girlfriend?” Rogers asked with a raised eyebrow, watching him from across their shared workspace.

“Shut up,” Rumple griped, snatching up his phone and heading out into the hall to take the call.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, the old endearment rolling off his tongue with ease as he answered.

“Hey,” Isabelle said, her voice a little stilted.

“Is something wrong?” he asked immediately.

“No,” Isabelle replied, her voice all false sunniness. “I mean, yes. I think we’re going to have to take a rain check on the soccer game this afternoon.”

Rumple felt his stomach plummet with disappointment.

“Oh,” he said. “Any reason why?”

Isabelle cleared her throat.

“Eli’s not feeling great and I don’t want to get him out in the cold, you know?”

There was something in Belle’s voice, something that told him things weren’t right. But everything was still new and he didn’t want to push.

“O-okay,” he said. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a huff of breath coming through the receiver.

“I really want to,” she said finally. “I mean, I have plans for you.”

“Oh really?” Weaver asked, his eyebrows rising. “What kind of plans?”

Isabelle huffed a little laugh on the other end of the line.

“I bought a new outfit,” she said, her voice dropping in pitch. “And, uh, something to wear under the outfit as well.”

“Miss Schwartz,” he said with a grin. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” she said with a giggle. “I’m sorry about the soccer game though. Maybe another time?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “You just focus on that boy of yours. Tell him I hope he feels better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, her voice wary once more. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. You know how kids get the sniffles.”

They hung up and Rumple stared down at the phone in his hand, a feeling of unease settling in his stomach. Nothing Isabelle had said gave him cause for alarm, but something felt off. 

"Congratulations," he said as he returned to he and Rogers' office, pulling the tickets to the game from his jacket pocket. "You've earned an afternoon off." 

He slapped the tickets down on the desk in front of Rogers who picked them up with an appraising look. 

"Good seats," he said, glancing up at Weaver. "You sure you don't want these?" 

Rumple merely grunted in response. He couldn't care less about soccer games if he didn't have his family with him.

As the afternoon wore on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Certainly Isabelle would have told him if she was in any danger. But the way her voice had changed when they spoke about Eli had him rattled. He didn’t want to move too fast or be too familiar and risk scaring Isabelle away, so he waited until that evening to put his plan in to motion. He would pop by her apartment under the pretense of checking on Eli on his way out of work. Isabelle only lived a block away from the station so it was hardly out of the way. If everything was fine, and their son was none the worse for the wear, perhaps they could even spend a few stolen moments together.

With that in mind, he headed to Isabelle’s apartment after leaving the station at 5 o’clock that evening. He had a bag with chicken soup from the diner down the street slung over his wrist, a bottle of wine in his other hand. He figured they could get Eli tucked up in bed and maybe have a moment to just the two of them before he left for the night so the day wasn't a total waste. It was only when he’d raised his hand to rap his knuckles on the apartment door that he realized noise was coming from within, the sound of voices and muffled Christmas carols carrying through the door.

He narrowed his eyes, knocking lightly. He heard a scuffle inside, a scrape of chair legs against a wooden floor, before the door burst open, warmth and Christmas music flooding out into the hall.

“Can I help you?” asked an unfamiliar man with silver tinsel wrapped around his neck like a scarf. He was tall and young with dark hair and a fair amount of scruff covering his chiseled jaw. Rumple felt a rush of something hot and angry lance through him, a crackling energy looking for release. The latent magic of this world was trying to take root in him, even now. But he was powerless here.

“Who are you?” he snapped.

“Nick Branson,” the man said, extending a hand. Rumple merely glared at it and after a moment, Branson dropped his hand back to his side. “Uh, are you here to see Izzy?”

"Detective Weaver!" Gideon exclaimed, peeking out from behind Nick Branson. He was holding a string of popcorn, a homemade Christmas decoration if the red and green kernels were anything to go by. He also looked decidedly healthy. 

"Hello, Eli," Rumple managed. "You're looking well." 

"We're decorating our tree!" he said excitedly. "Do you wanna help?" 

“Weaver!” came Isabelle’s voice as she too appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

He wasn't entirely sure now, though he tried not to let his imagination run away with him. Tilly had said Isabelle was a loner but that didn't mean she was completely friendless. Perhaps this Nick person was simply a co-worker or the like. A co-worker with a penchant for Christmas decorating. 

He raised the bag with the chicken soup in it halfheartedly. “I thought Eli might benefit from some soup,” he said uselessly. 

"Oh," Isabelle said glancing away guiltily. "Thank you." 

There was an awkward pause, the three inhabitants of the apartment staring at Rumple as he stood there stupidly with his soup. 

"Where are my manners," Isabelle said after a moment, shaking her head. “Um, Nick, this is my…this is...this is Detective Jacob Weaver,” she said, motioning to him. “Weaver, this is Nick. Eli’s dad.”

Rumple felt as though the air had been sucked out of the hallway, his vision condensing to two little pinpricks focused on the interloper’s face. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears. His fury must have shown on his face because the next moment, Belle was sending Nick back into the apartment with Eli and was dragging him out into the hall.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Is Eli even really sick?”

Belle bit her lip, looking guilty. He had years of marriage to rely on when it came to reading Belle. Not that she wasn’t an open book anyway, her every emotion showing clearly on her face.

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms against her chest. “Nick called and wanted to see Eli so we were going to meet for lunch before the game. Eli happened to mention that we didn’t have a Christmas tree yet and Nick said he’d bring us to get one. Eli was so excited about it that I didn’t want to pull him away, but I wasn’t sure what to say to you. I just… this is not a situation I’ve ever found myself in. I didn’t want to cause problems when things are still so new for us. I know my life is complicated and I didn’t want to scare you off with the mess.”

“So you, what?” Weaver asked. “Lied to protect me?”

Isabelle shook her head. “Something like that. Look, I really like you. I didn’t want you to think anything more was happening here than actually is.”

Rumple took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. There was no use flying off the handle and scaring Isabelle away for good. They’d been on a few casual dates. She wasn’t his wife. He had no reason to be upset.

“And what exactly is happening here?” he asked. “Should I be worried?”

“No!” Isabelle exclaimed, reaching out to rest her hands on Rumple's chest reassuringly. “He’s just Eli’s father. And we haven’t had the best relationship. He split when I got pregnant, he’s turned up a few times over the years and never stayed longer than a day, but he seems to have things together now and he wants to know Eli. I can’t stand in the way of that. A boy needs his father.”

Rumple scoffed.

“And that’s him, is it?”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes, her hands dropping from his chest. “Yes, it is,” she said, her voice low. “No matter how I might wish otherwise, Nick is Eli’s dad. If he means to stick around this time, I’m not going to dissuade him.”

“Take it from someone who knows,” Rumple said roughly. “Sometimes no father is better than the one fate saddled you with.”

Isabelle blanched. “Are you trying to tell me what’s best for my child?”

“I know a dad who splits after a weekend isn’t it.”

“Oh and you’d know all about that wouldn’t you,” she spat. “When’s the last time you saw your son again?”

Rumple’s jaw clenched, the twisting feeling in his stomach intensifying.

Isabelle gasped, slapping a hand against her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean that. I know you love your son.”

Rumple just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He hated this curse. He hated Nick Branson, whoever he was. He hated feeling powerless to do anything but watch his family slip away from him time and time again.

“Look, I don’t want to fight, please,” she said, reaching for him again. Isabelle's hand found his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, always so tactile regardless of curses. It had always taken him by surprise back in the Dark Castle, how willing she was to touch him after years without it.  

Rumple glanced down at her hand on his arm and she dropped it all too quickly, leaving him touch starved once again. 

“I don’t want to fight either,” he agreed.

Isabelle glanced behind her to where the door to the apartment was still cracked. Rumple could hear Gideon’s laughter at something Branson was saying and he clenched his teeth together hard enough to ache.

Isabelle chewed on her lip as she turned back to face him, and Rumple attempted to school his features into a neutral expression.

“Can I…can I please just call you later?” she asked, looking up at him with those devastating blue eyes.

“Yeah,” Rumple said resignedly. “I suppose we’d better cancel tomorrow night after all.”

“Oh,” Isabelle said, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Rumple gave one more curt nod before turning to stalk off back down the hallway.

“Jacob, wait!” Isabelle called after him, and he tensed at the sound of the false name on her lips. He steeled himself, turning back to face Isabelle with a blank expression.

“We’ll reschedule, right?” she asked hesitantly, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Rumple couldn’t help but offer her a smile, his sore heart softening at the sight of her so uncertain.

“Yeah,” he assured her. “I’m all in on this, Isabelle. The kid, the ex, none of it’s going to scare me off. Okay? You don't have to worry about that.”

Isabelle gave a little sigh of relief. 

“Good,” she said with a nod. Then she slipped back into her apartment, the click of the door lock reverberating in the empty hallway.

The night had turned icy outside, Rumple's breath condensing in little puffs as he dumped the soup and the wine in the trashcan outside Belle’s apartment lobby. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them for warmth before turning toward the bar next door. A few patrons stumbled out, the sound of loud music and louder conversation pouring out after them with a blast of warm, beer scented air.

Rumple slipped in after them. He needed answers, and there was one person in this city who could give them to him.

[eirian-houpe]

A Blade For Belfrey

Fandom:Once Upon a Time (TV), The Blade Artist

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Detective weaver|Rumplestiltskin, Wishverse Captain Hook | Detective Rogers, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Roni|Regina, Francis "Franco" Begbie, Rapunzel Tremaine | Victoria Belfrey, Drizella Tremaine | Ivy Belfrey, Henry Mills

Additional Tags: Explicit Language, Violence, Unwanted Advances, Crimes & Criminals, Injury, Protection

Series: Part 12 of Lover's Leap

Summary: Edinburgh meets Glasgow as Weaver and Begbie clash when Begbie's alter ego, Jim Francis is commissioned by Victoria Belfrey to produce a work of art for a business rival. Rumplestiltskin, somehow suspecting Weaver an incarnation of himself, tries to take a back seat - but Belle needs otherwise.

A Blade For Belfrey

Jim Francis is pissed.

Usually that doesn’t bode well, especially when - like now - Melanie isn’t around to talk him down; to remind him of who he is, and who he is not.

He hadn’t wanted to come to Seattle in the first f***** place, but his agent had told him it might be a good idea and that even if it wasn’t, it would be worth a few days in the rain and the wind, to fleece the stuck up bitch who’d seen his work and wanted one of her own. Rich c*** by all accounts, owned most of a district of the god-forsaken piss hole - so he’d come to call Seattle on account of the constant rain - a quaint wee place with a community garden and everything. Hyperion Heights.

As if that isn’t enough to get his blood flowing toward a full on moment of regression, some f****** detective that bust in on him while he’s having a nip or three at the local place is giving him the third degree. ‘Haven’t seen you around here,’ ‘who are you?’ ‘what brings you to Hyperion Heights?’ ‘oh, really, how long will ye be staying?’ pally pally. The usual shite.

Weaver, the c*** is called, and it seems that if you bandy the name about enough, everyone gets really quiet, or else fucks off and keeps their heads down. Does their own thing, like. Fancies himself a bit of a hard f*****, this Weaver, so it seems.

Anyway, after the good detective leaves, he decides to bevvy it up a bit and gets a tad wasted in the end, and the bird that owns the bar, some doll named Rona or Toni or some such other name tosses him out into the rain and tells him to go sleep it off if he knows what’s good for him. Hence, he’s pissed.

Read More (launguage uncensored) on AO3

[justanoutlawfic]

If your still taking prompts, could I request a Season 7 AU where Emma and Lily were the got married in season 6? Maybe they go to help Henry and end up being cursed in Hyperion Heights.

Lily sat next to Emma, who cuddled their granddaughter in her arms. Granddaughter. That sounded weird. She wasn't sure what she was to Henry. Step-mom sounded weird sometimes given how late she entered his life and how little parenting they actually did. She was more of a fun aunt at most. Someone he could turn to, to talk about everything Life was throwing at him with no judgement. After all, she had been there herself.

Now, he was no longer the awkward lanky kid she had met all those years ago. He was a grown man, married with a daughter. A couple of years ago he had sent word for Regina, Robin, Lily and Emma to help him in a time of crisis. What was supposed to be a quick mission, ended in a long term rebellion. They had decided their next big adventure would be helping Henry, Ella, Tiana and the rest battle the Tremaine family. Along the way, Henry fell in love, got married and welcomed a child of his own.

A little baby girl, wrapped in pink. She had Ella's coloring and dark eyes that were enamored on Emma. She wiggled fiercely, ready for her first adventure. Truly a Mills-Swan-Charming-Tremaine baby.

"Lucia Cecelia Mills," Emma whispered. "Perfect name for a perfect little girl."

"She's little but fierce."

Emma nodded. "Knowing her, she'll be sword fighting by age 5."

Lucy raises a fist in the air and Lily chuckled, stroking her knuckle. The three were alone, sitting on a log. Henry and Ella were resting, while Robin and Regina were meeting with Tiana and Hook to talk about Drizella's prophecy.

Lily winced at the thought. A beautiful day, that should've been filled with happiness and celebration was cut short when Drizella appeared announcing that on Lucy's 8th birthday, a curse would be set. It'd take over the kingdom and drag them all apart, once and for all. Emma had found a curse of her own right before Ella went into labor thanks to a brief truce with Tremaine and turned Drizella into a statue. Still, the prophecy hung heavy above their heads like a rain cloud about to drop at any minute.

"Drizella's not going to be able to hurt her now, is she?" Lily asked.

Emma gnawed on her lip, her eyes on the baby. "Of course not."

"Then why isn't everyone relieved?"

"Look, she's a statue, she can't hurt her now."

"But what if something happens, Emma? What if she isn't the only one?"

Emma looked up from the baby. She took hold of her wife's hand, clutching it tightly.

"We've defeated worse demons," Emma said. "I broke the first curse. No matter what happens, we will always find a way."

But even with a Snow White-esque hope speech on her wife's lips, Lily could hear the doubt in Emma's voice.

***********************

"Come on, Luna!" Lucy whines. "I'm going to be late."

Luna double checks the locks on her Jeep. "We're 15 minutes early, Luce."

"Still. Grandma will be mad if we're late."

Luna hides an eye roll, knowing the last thing she needs is for that to get back to Victoria Belfrey. Lucy wouldn't rat, but Belfrey has spies everywhere. Luna hates being a nanny but after her art gallery was shut down, it's all she has to keep the lights on. Lucy makes it worth it, at the very least. She doesn't like Belfrey any more than she does and longs for the few days a week she's allowed to spend with her mother across town. Wednesdays, however, are ballet. Ivy usually brings Lucy and Luna will pick her up but today Ivy has a mani-pedi appointment. Of course that means that Luna misses her art class because whatever the Belfreys want, they get.

She leads Lucy inside and watches as she changes out of her beat up sneakers, into her ballet shoes. Luna is about to leave, when Lucy speaks up.

"Come say hi to Miss Eve."

"I don't have the right shoes."

"Take them off."

"Luce, I have to go back and get your dinner started…"

"Pleaseeeeee, Luna."

Luna sighs, but kicks off her boots, following Lucy inside. A woman is leaned over the barre against the mirror, a form fitted black leotard on her body with a matching skirt below. She has on white tights and black pointe shoes, unlike Lucy's pink. The woman's light blonde hair is pulled up in a tight bun.

"Hi Miss Eve!" Lucy says.

The woman pulls away from the barre, revealing sparkling green eyes and a bright smile. "Hey Lucy," she says. "You're early. Do you want to help me with the music?"

"Yes please. By the way, this is my nanny, Luna. Luna, this is Eve."

Before either says anything, Lucy runs into the corner where a boom box sits next to a plastic tub and she starts to go through it. Luna laughs, rubbing the back of her neck. This damn kid. If she was going to set her up, it couldn't have been on a day when she was wearing anything but paint splattered overalls and a Marilyn Manson tee that she borrowed from Roni, her hair clipped back in a messy bun?

"Hey," Luna says.

Eve chuckles. "Hey, Lucy has told me a lot about you."

"Likewise. She loves ballet."

"She tells me all the time that I should meet her pretty nanny, that in her storybook we're married."

Luna's cheeks burn. "Oh geez. Lucy and that book."

Ever since Lucy found Henry Mills' book, she fell in love with the story and the characters in it. She became convinced that it was real. She had tracked him down and ever since, he had been hopping around the Heights, interviewing everyone. Luna didn't get the obsession.

"I'm sorry," Luna continues. "I know her grandmother hates that thing."

"I think it's cute, honestly." Eve shrugs. "She's just a kid and besides…I've been wanting to meet this cute nanny."

Luna smirks. "So…you think I'm cute?"

A few other kids walk in the room and Eve pats them on the back, waving. Lucy hits a button on the stereo and a pop song begins to play.

"I have to start warm ups," Eve says. "But maybe we can talk more when you pick Lucy up?"

"I'd like that."

[rumbelleshowdown]

The Unfinished Story

Author: AshleySpinelli Prompt: books found under couch Group B

Detective Weaver of the Hyperion Heights Police Department was a man who filled the hours of the day with his work. Lots of work. He didn't do friends, he didn't have family, and work odd hours so getting a pet was right out. But he wasn't lonely, he had an important if unrewarding job that would have made maintaining human relationships outside of the office too difficult anyway.

All of this was contradictory to his near-manic search for one red-and-black book in his shitty little apartment.

Theoretically he didn't have to be in the office until much later in the day. His search wasn't due to any sort of police work whatsoever, though. Thank god. Because if it were he'd be making a hash of it. Taking a deep breath, Weaver stepped back from where he was making his second search of his bedroom. Okay. Why not approach it like a case then? A crime scene for a...a missing persons case?

Sure.

First: He'd had the book two nights ago, when he finished The Night Circus. The circus had been sold, the loose threads wrapped up neatly, the contest undecided between the star-crossed lovers. Good book. He had finished reading it on the sofa.

Second: Was anything unusual about that night? Yes and no. He had been a few words away from fully finishing the book, still reading the last sentence or so, when his phone rang and he was called in to investigate a new lead on a stalled case. Being called into work after going home wasn't too unusual, but that was when he forgot what happened to the book. He didn't get home again until the yesterday evening and had very blurry memories of shuffling into the kitchen and eating some leftover takeout, leaving his plate on the coffee table for the morning, and going to bed.

So, by this logic, Weaver had established where the book was last scene-the couch,-and when,-the night before last,-which meant his best bet was to look around the couch again. He backtracked to the living room section of his apartment, and briefly scanned the area with his eyes again. The coffee table was empty, the couch was clear, the one ugly little end table on the left-hand side was empty save a lamp and the TV remote.

Weaver's coffee table was enough to look under just by bending down a little, but the couch...aha. The couch was an ancient, antique monstrosity that could fold out into a bed. It was also so low to the ground he had to get on his hands and knees and reach up-

His fingers met with the corner of a paperback and Weaver grinned. He pulled out The Night Circus, a little dusty but otherwise in fine condition, and allowed the stupid grin to remain on his face while he wiped the book clean. Was he worried about late fees? Absolutely not. Was he worried what the librarian would think of him if he lost a book she'd recommended as a favorite and returned it in such a state?

Worryingly so.

The librarian, Gabrielle O'Hara, was a wee thing dressed in thick cardigans or sweaters, long skirts, and sensible shoes for climbing library ladders. She looked like the stereotypical frumpy librarian sans glasses, but her shy little smiles and clear blue eyes were the most beautiful things Weaver had seen. The first time he saw her was not love at first sight in the least; He'd only come into the library because it started pouring down rain in the middle of his walk, and the library was the closest place to dry out. Simple.

Things became less simple when he tried to explain why he kept going back. Ms. O'Hara was very quiet and skittish, but she was shy to everyone really. He figured taking up reading would get the higher-ups off his back, convince them he had a hobby even if reading was a bit dull by certain standards. He needed his extra money to pay for bills and the like, detectives weren't exactly loaded and he had an extra mouth to feed in his informant Tilly, so a library card seemed like a logical step towards a steady supply of books. At least that's what he'd convinced himself.

By now it was useless though: He had a ridiculous crush on the sweet, mousy librarian who had a truly wicked sense of humor if you got her to open up to you, and it was always on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she was doing anything after work on the Friday's he visited.

He didn't expect her to go to Roni's Bar with him or anything, the world's most platonic cup of coffee would fulfill his needs nicely. He just...liked Ms. O'Hara, seeing her was one of the highlights of his week. Seeing a little more of her would be nice, too. But Weaver was fifty-three, graying, and not getting any handsomer as time wore on, and spent too much time at work to really give a woman the attention she was due in a relationship.

He would be a truly terrible partner, and he wouldn't force that on someone as shy as Ms. O'Hara who'd probably only say yes to a date because she felt pressured. No. No way.

Still...he had to return The Night Circus now, and the middle of a Friday was guaranteed to be slow, so...

Weaver arrived at the library to find the circulation desk, decorated with a garland of orange-and-black, occupied by Ms. O'Hara herself, picking at a wilted-looking salad and reading the paper as was her habit at noon on a slow day. His steps on the floor drew her attention and he received a pleased little grin that had his foolish heart soaring.

"Hello Detective Weaver," she beamed, putting the lid back on her salad. "Did you enjoy the book?"

"You haven't led me astray yet. I admit the changing perspectives between the magicians and Bailey had me confused, but altogether, I enjoyed it. How was your week?"

"Not bad." And she always answered "not bad" to the point that Weaver suspected her life was as dull and repetitive as his was. "I'm expecting some new books in a few weeks, I might just have something very new to suggest soon..." she trailed off a moment as he handed her the book, squinting at the pages where her hand brushed against it. Weaver had cleaned the cover off, but he hadn't thought to dust the pages.

"Ah...I had a bit of trouble finding that this morning," he confessed slowly. "It fell down and got knocked under my couch."

"Ah," Ms. O'Hara bit back a smile. "I see. Well, it happens. You won't believe how many books I've found under the couch of my place, er, actually my shelf is a bit full so I've got books everywhere, actually."

"Because you don't have enough to read at work?" Weaver teased.

She blushed the sweetest shade of pink and pressed her full lips together. "Those books are mine, these books are the city's. There's a difference!"

Weaver heard himself laugh, and he was not a man who laughed often, but something about Gabrielle O'Hara made him very irrational. And stupid. That "what are you doing later?" cropped up on the tip of his tongue again before he could squash it. He was actively in the middle of a case, Victoria Belfrey was being extra pesky lately and he had no idea how he got involved with that woman but he really didn't like her. No, starting anything other than this casual friendship with Ms. O'Hara would be bad for her in a number of ways, in fact, it was time he left, probably.

"Well maybe you can explain the difference to me next week," he said as casually as possible. "I've got to get going."

Ms. O'Hara hesitated. "Aren't you going to check out another book?"

Damn. "Ah...I'm afraid I won't have time to finish it this week."

"Oh. Right. Well, good luck with...that. Be careful."

She had gotten in the habit of that. Be careful. Fuck. Did she worry about him? Weaver tried to shake that nagging thought off as he waved goodbye and left the library for the station. Did she care about him?These were answers he didn't want, things that would only lead him into more trouble if he really wanted to keep Gabrielle O'Hara out of his messy shit-stained life.

He'd do what he always did and focus on work. Tomorrow he'd bring Tilly some food and see if she had any new leads for him. She might be in an extra Tilly-ish mood tomorrow because it was Halloween, but, it's not like Halloween in Hyperion Heights had a great deal or surprises for a man like Weaver.

[emospritelet]

Honourable Members - ch 2

[Part 1]

[AO3 link]

I hope you guys like UST :)

The next few days passed without another encounter with Belle French, and Sutherland was surprised to find that he regretted it.  He caught himself thinking of her at the oddest moments, and told himself firmly that his interest had been sparked by her daring to stand up to him, unlike most of the spineless career politicians he had to deal with.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was fierce and beautiful and passionate, or that she had delightfully shapely legs, or that she had been just the right height to suit his shorter stature. Nothing whatsoever.

The tabloid press had pursued the idea of the two of them being an item, but he had been pleased to see in the one interview he caught that Miss French had politely but firmly shut down any suggestion of impropriety when asked, and had steered the interviewer towards her concerns over policy.  He was less pleased that her concerns brought further attention to the Wolsingham debacle, but it couldn’t be helped.

Tossing a briefing paper aside, he grinned as he recalled the flash of her eyes, the set of her jaw as she tried to look down her nose at him, the way her chest had heaved in outrage.  The memory dissipated in favour of the more lurid fantasies his mind could conjure up: fantasies in which she was looking up at him from a very different position, his fingers curled in her hair, her eyes half-closed and dark with desire and her lips full and moist...

Sutherland groaned, letting his head thump onto his folded arms, and called himself every word for idiot he could think of.  She was a new MP, she was far too young for him, she wasn’t remotely interested, and he was an old pervert for thinking of her that way.  It was the stress, he decided. A pathetic infatuation brought on by late nights, too little sleep and too much whisky. Clearly he needed more coffee to get through the morning without his mind wandering.

“Look, I know the Wolsingham issue is going to cause an uproar whichever way it goes, but I don’t think things are quite that desperate,” remarked Carrie, making him lift his head.  She dropped another leather folder of documents in front of him.  “The papers you asked for earlier? Just need your signature.”

He grumbled something, pushing upright and pulling the folder towards him. He could feel her eyes on him as he opened it up, and he waited for her to say what was clearly on her mind.

“We’ve had responses on the cross-party group for the Borders regeneration strategy,” she said.  “You know you don’t have to chair this yourself, you could leave it to Sir Anthony.”

“I know, but it was a key campaign promise, I’d rather have a little oversight.”

“You can’t oversee everything.”

“Yeah, well, just let me see how this first meeting goes,” he said, a little impatiently.  “If I don’t feel I’m adding anything, Sir Anthony can take over.”

“Very well,” she sighed.  “They can all attend for an initial meeting today, so I’ve rescheduled your three o’clock; the Minister’s coming in tomorrow instead.  Thought we may as well strike while the iron’s hot and today was the best in terms of diary space.”

“Good.”  He ran his eyes over the document in front of him.  “I presume we’ll be in the Cabinet Room. How many are we talking?”

“Oh, about a dozen, not including you,” she said airily.  “Representatives from DERCA, obviously, along with DII, and I thought DfTI would want in on the act. Plus MPs from the other major parties.”

“Who’s in that group?” he asked absently, signing the papers with a flourish.

“Bit of a mixed bag,” she mused, taking them from him and indicating another document.  “Baron Samdi…”

“Hardly a surprise, it’s his constituency that’ll be one of the most affected.”

“Victoria Belfrey and Fiona Black…”

Sutherland grumbled under his breath, reading over the document in his hands a second time.

“They’ll both disagree with anything I say just to be bloody-minded.  Anyone on our side in this?”

“Well, there’s Sir David,” she said.  “Not saying he’ll be one hundred percent behind the scheme, but he’s fair.  Press the point home about the extra money for farmers in the area and you’ll win him over.”

He looked up then, frowning.

“You’re holding out on me,” he said suspiciously.  “Who else?”

She rolled her eyes, putting fists on hips.

“Can’t I have any surprises?”

“I hate surprises,” he said.  “Come on, spit it out.”

“Belle French.”

“What?”  He stared at her in outrage.  “She hasn’t even been in post three weeks!  How the hell did she swing that?”

“Well, you know what Sir Anthony’s like,” she said.  “If I were her, I’d have batted my eyelashes and paid him a compliment and watched as he bent over backwards trying to keep me happy in the vain hope of getting a shag out of it.”

Sutherland shot her a flat look.

“Are you telling me this is a habit with you?”

“Oh, I didn’t bother doing it to you,” she assured him.  “Waste of time.”

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or offended.”

“Well, you didn’t need convincing when it came to my competence,” she said. “Besides, I’m just saying what I would do if I were her.  I’m sure she has far too much integrity than to try that one.”

“I’m sure.”

“Which is a good thing, because that randy old goat has no integrity whatsoever…”

“Carrie, could we talk about something other than Miss French’s potential conquests?” he asked impatiently, and she smirked.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Do you want me to attend the meeting?” she asked, and he grinned at her.

“Of course,” he said.  “Who else is gonna keep me in line?”

Carrie sniffed, gathering up the signed documents.

“Well, perhaps one person springs to mind…”

x

The committee meeting was a disaster.

It had started out well enough; there was general agreement about the level of deprivation in the Borders area and the need for long-term investment and improved transportation.  Sutherland had laid out the preliminary findings of a Government consultation on proposals for regeneration, and it was then that things had started to fall apart. 

Looking back he supposed it was inevitable; different departments had different priorities, and the opposing parties had staked out their own positions depending on their manifesto commitments, but he had hoped they could arrive at something resembling a way forward. Baron Samdi: handsome, erudite, and eager to deliver for his voters, was inclined to support the Government's preferred option, but Sir Anthony Challoner: balding, earnest-looking, and resistant to change, was opposed to anything too ambitious.  It made him want to grind his teeth.  Fiona Black and Victoria Belfrey, members of the Opposition and long-time thorns in his side, had teamed up to attack not only the scheme itself, but also any attempt he made to find consensus on the proposals. And then there was Belle French.

“Well, personally I think the fifth proposal goes some way towards what we need to achieve in the area,” she said, looking around the table after the latest heated exchange had died down.  “But it doesn’t go far enough.”

“That proposal is already absurdly expensive!” protested Victoria Belfrey, glaring at her.  “My party certainly can’t support such a wasteful use of taxpayers’ money!”

“I trust you’re not saying that any investment in my constituency is a waste, Victoria,” said Samdi, shooting her a flat look, and she rolled her eyes.

“Of course not, just - I think we need to be realistic here.”

“I’m not proposing we move ahead with proposal five, I’m proposing we look at something else entirely,” said Miss French eagerly.  “One of the constituencies covered by the scheme borders my own, and I know from talking to my own people what the needs in the area are.”

“Which is presumably why you’ve been given a place at this table,” said Sutherland, sounding far calmer than he felt.  “Opinion has already been canvassed. Proposal five is as radical as the Government is prepared to be, I assure you, Miss French.  Please note our responses as set out in section four of your bundle. Proposal three is the preferred option.”

“But if you just—”

“The consultation is over,” he interrupted.  “This committee hasn’t been formed to come up with proposals, but to discuss those already put forward and agree on a cross-party strategy.”

She seemed to struggle a little, her mouth working, but then reluctantly shrugged acceptance.  His eyes narrowed at the rapid capitulation; he suspected she wouldn’t let the issue drop entirely, and was proven right ten minutes later when she piped up again.

“If we follow option three, how can we be certain that the contractors will get the infrastructure done on time and to budget?” she asked.  “I still think we could go further than what’s being proposed.”

“Preliminary costings and time estimates have already been provided by Wolsingham plc,” said Samdi, waving one of the papers.  Miss French turned to Sutherland with an outraged look on her face.

“You’re going with Wolsingham?”

“They are a Government contractor,” he said blandly.  “It seemed reasonable to let them give us an estimate, at least.”

“But - but everything we spoke about the other day!” she protested.  “I wasn’t making it up! Sir Cyril Wolsingham is known for ripping off subcontractors and employees!  We can’t possibly consider his firm for this!”

“You know, when last I looked, it was my Government that entered into contracts,” he said, his voice cold.

“No, you’re right,” she agreed, in a wry tone.  “It’s definitely not the place of this committee to tell you how to do your job.”

“Well, thank you for that concession, I’m sure,” he remarked.

“Perhaps it’s one of those things that gets sewn up on the golf course or over a glass of something in the clubhouse afterwards.”

“Do I look like I play fucking golf?” he snapped.

Seated at his left, Carrie cleared her throat, a familiar warning that he chose not to heed.  Miss French managed to look down her nose at him, not in the least intimidated, and Fiona Black sucked in her cheeks, pursing her lips and exchanging a knowing look with Ms Belfrey.  It did nothing to improve his temper.

“The estimate was for the purpose of initial costings only,” he said, hating that he sounded defensive.  “The scheme will be put out to tender when we make a decision on how we want to proceed.”

“Well, I really think we should talk about the potential contractors, given Wolsingham’s reputation for dodgy dealings—”

“How about we do that once we’ve chosen a bloody way forward?” he snapped.  “It’s all very well to fight the good fight, Miss French, but you can’t do so on all fronts.”

She glared at him.

“And if you give up the fight entirely, what then?” she demanded.

“Well, sometimes a battle must be lost in order to win the war itself.”

“Easy to say for the king in his castle with nothing to lose!”

His eyes narrowed, mouth flattening in irritation.

“Be careful, Miss French,” he warned.  “You’re currently here against my better judgement, but I can easily find someone else from the New Liberal party who’ll be every bit as competent while keeping a civil tongue in their head.”

"Fine," she said stiffly.  "As you say, nothing's been decided yet."

"Thank you."

"And I suppose with election year looming in the not-too-distant future, you're reluctant to take any risks or lose any friends."

"Miss French, so help me..." he growled.

"Perhaps we could get back to the proposals?" said Samdi, his voice smooth and calming.  "I definitely think we can rule out options one and two."

"Not so fast," said Victoria.  "Let's at least consider option one."

"'Do nothing' is not gonna happen, Victoria, and you bloody know it!" snapped Sutherland.  "I campaigned on this fucking thing, and I'll deliver it with or without your input!"

Miss French leaned forward, the light of fervour in her blue eyes which made him want to groan.

"Prime Minister, I understand you have a lot of conflicting priorities to consider," she said.  "But I really think we have an opportunity here.  An opportunity to make a real difference to the lives of people in the north of England, to increase trade and improve infrastructure!  Isn't that what we're all here for?"

Victoria and Fiona shared a grimace, and Sutherland wanted to sigh.

"No one's denying that we're here for the common good, Miss French—”

"Then why can't we talk around some different options other than what's been proposed?"

"Am I speaking a foreign fucking language?" he snapped, slapping the papers in front of him and making Sir Anthony jump.  "A lengthy consultation has been carried out, and before you are the options on the table!  Bloody well pick one!  Or do you want to just sit around fucking talking about it for the next ten years before someone's got the bollocks to make a decision?"

Miss French sniffed.

"Well, I see your reputation for collaborative working is well-earned," she said dryly.

Fiona Black snorted and tried to turn it into a cough.  Sutherland gritted his teeth, and put down his pen very deliberately.

"Miss French, you've been at Parliament a grand total of eighteen days," he said curtly.  "If you're looking to sit in my fucking chair anytime soon, you're in for a disappointment."

She looked a little chastened at that.

“I just meant that—”

“Can we move on, please?” he interrupted.  “I’d like to get this meeting over with before bloody midnight.”

x

Ten minutes to nine, and he still had a set of prepared responses to read through and approve and a draft paper to look over.  Sutherland sighed, blinking rapidly to try to concentrate on the words in front of him. It had been a long, frustrating day, and he wanted nothing more than to say fuck it all, pour himself a drink, and slump into one of the comfier chairs in his apartments. He kept replaying the cross-party meeting in his head, and wishing he had been calmer.  Miss French seemed to be able to push his buttons. Every last one of them.

He closed his eyes as his mind came up with a very different ending to the meeting, one in which he hadn’t lost his temper in another angry exchange with her, in which he hadn’t stormed out without a backward glance, bristling with righteous indignation.  He imagined the other participants leaving he and Miss French alone, their sniping increasing along with their passion until something broke and she kissed him hard and he shoved her up against the wall and—

He closed his eyes, shaking his head.  Ridiculous!  As if she’d kiss you!  She’d fucking slap you, either with a hand or a bloody sexual harassment claim, and you’d fucking deserve both.  Snap out of it, you moron!

“Well, aren’t you gorgeous?”

A familiar female voice made him look up in confusion.  Miss French was bent over in the doorway, a file in one hand and the other scratching Arthur’s ears. The plump tabby was gazing up at her adoringly, back arched and tail curled over as he butted his head against her fingers.  Sutherland’s mouth flattened in resigned amusement. Traitor.

Miss French was wearing blue again, a slim-fitting dress with a pencil skirt and a V-neck, her pale arms bare. He found that his eyes were following the curves of her hips and waist, and he hurriedly flicked them up above the top of her head just as she straightened up.  Arthur wound around her legs, purring as his tail curled around one pale shin, and she nodded cautiously.

“Prime Minister,” she said, and he sat back, tapping his pen against the paperwork in front of him.

“Miss French,” he said wearily.  “If you’re looking to resume our fight, it’s a little late.”

“No, that wasn’t—”  She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them again.  “I was talking to Sir Anthony, and he said he had some documents to hand to you regarding Monday’s Select Committee hearing, so I - I said I’d bring them over.”

She held up the file, and at his nod, stepped forward and placed it on his desk.

“You could have just left them with Carrie,” he said.

“I know.”

“In fact, I’m impressed that you managed to get past her.”

“I kind of waited until she went to the ladies’ room, and then sneaked in,” she said, having the grace to look a little guilty.  She was tugging at her lower lip with her teeth, and it was rather distracting. He shook his head.

“Yes, well,” he said.  “It’s late, and I have things to do, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“I - I just wanted to apologise,” she said hurriedly.  “I was out of line. You were right to call me on it.”

“Oh, I know that,” he said dryly, turning the pen between his finger and thumb. “But I appreciate the sentiment."

"You were right to say that we need to make a decision on one of the options, as well," she said.  "I'm not sure we can find a consensus on option five, but three might be possible."

"Well, I'm glad you're committed to working towards a solution," he said. "However, I think I should warn you that if you continue to talk over others on the committee and to push your opinions as fact, you’ll soon find yourself out on your arse.”

She stepped closer to the desk, leaning on it with both hands, her chestnut hair swinging forward, gleaming copper in the light.  The angle of her body gave him an excellent view down the front of her dress, and a glimpse of the lacy edge of her bra. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, cursing himself for a bloody fool.

“Look, I know you think I’m naive,” she said earnestly.  “But I’m not an idiot. I’m right about Wolsingham!”

“I’m sure you think so.”

“I know how Sir Cyril works!” she insisted, straightening up again.  “He’s nothing but a conman and a thug! He duped my father into investing in his business decades ago!  Fed him a bunch of bullshit about contracts that turned out to be non-existent, and by the time Dad realised he’d been screwed over, he couldn’t afford to bring the case to court.  Dad lost everything!”

Sutherland wanted to sigh.  A family history of animosity with a major contractor, and she chooses now to bring it up?  Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

“So.”  He closed the file in front of him.  “You have an interest in this matter?”

“Well, obviously!”

“Then, even more obviously, it’s not appropriate that you should have any involvement in the regeneration strategy.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her eyes wide.

“You can’t be serious!”

“On the contrary,” he said coldly.  “I’m very serious.”

“But—”

“Do you deny that you have highly negative opinions about the intentions and reputation of one of the board members of Wolsingham plc, a potential contractor?”

“I—”  She struggled visibly.  “I - well, no, I can’t deny that, I suppose.”

“Then there’s no more to be said.”  He pulled a document towards himself.  “I thank you for bringing this conflict of interest to my attention, and for your honesty in revealing your father’s prior dealings with the firm.  I’ll expect the Shadow Environment Secretary to name a replacement within due course. Ms de Ville will show you out. Good evening to you.”

Having dismissed her, he dropped his eyes, reading the paper in front of him. He could almost feel her frustration, a pressure in the air around him, as though a whistle was being blown that was pitched a little too high for him to hear.  He sighed, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the document and setting it aside.

“Miss French, you clearly have something you’re almost bursting to tell me, so let’s hear it.”

“I - I just think it’s unfair to throw me off this committee because of my opinion of one aspect of the regeneration!”

Sutherland’s head jerked up.

“Unfair?” he snapped.  “What are you, fucking five?”

She opened her mouth, looking furious, and the door opened behind her, Carrie looking at first puzzled and then cautious.

“I - I was about to go home, sir,” she said.  “I wasn’t aware that you had an appointment.”

“I didn’t,” he said curtly.  “Miss French was just leaving.”

“No I wasn’t.”

Carrie’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes flicked to him, and Sutherland slumped in his seat a little, letting out a rumbling sigh.

“Carrie, go on, go home,” he said wearily.  “Give my regards to your lovely wife. I’m sure she’d like to have dinner with you for once.”

“If you’re sure, sir.”

Miss French had gone very still, as though she thought he would forget she was there, and Sutherland jerked his head towards her.

“I can always get Special Branch to toss her out, can’t I?” he said, and Carrie smirked.

“I’ll say goodnight then, sir.”

She eyed Belle one last time, with a look in her eye as though she had a dozen questions she wanted to ask, but thought better of it.  The door closed behind her, and Sutherland turned his attention to the woman in front of him. He drummed his fingers on the desk, and made a decision.

“D’you want a drink?” he asked bluntly.

It was gratifying to throw her off her game.  She blinked at him, suddenly unsure of herself.

“What?”

“A drink,” he said impatiently.  “Whisky, brandy... I might have some gin if Carrie’s left me any.”

“Uh - okay.”  She seemed to rally again.  “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Whisky, then.”

He pushed back from the desk, going to cabinet which housed the bottles of spirits and selecting two cut crystal glasses.  Whisky poured in a tawny stream, and he turned back to her, holding out a glass. She took it from his hands.

“Thank you.”

He sat back down in his chair, the cushioned leather squeaking a little as he sat down, and took a sip of his drink as he met her eyes.

“So,” he said.  “You’ve been an MP for barely three weeks and you’ve already managed to get on my tits.  I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed off.”

“Well, at least you’ll remember me,” she said, with a tiny grin.

“For all the wrong reasons, maybe.”

“I assure you there are a lot of excellent reasons too,” she said.  “I realise we may have got off on the wrong foot, but there’s no reason we can’t work together, is there?”

“Of course not,” he said, and she smiled.  “But we won’t be working on this committee.”

Her brows drew down at that.

“Prime Minister, if I may, I really think I can bring something to the table—”

“No doubt,” he interjected.  “But I can’t have you on the committee for this particular project, Miss French. I’m sorry, but that’s my final word on the matter.”

She sighed, shrugging in a defeated manner, and took a drink, her eyes on the floor.  Her head bobbed up almost immediately.

“Will you promise to put me at the top of the list for the next cross-party committee you oversee, then?”

“Fuck's sake!”  He scowled at her.  “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not usually.”

“I don’t even know when the next committee will be, or the subject matter,” he snapped.  “I’m certainly not about to agree to put your name on the list on a fucking whim!”

She merely smiled at his aggressive tone, taking a sip of her drink as she eyed him.  She didn’t seem remotely intimidated by him, and it was annoyingly alluring.

“Well, if you can spare ten minutes, I can show you why I’d be an excellent addition to any team you may want to put together,” she said airily.

“I see.”  His eyes narrowed.  “A first class PPE degree from Oxbridge, a head stuffed full of idealistic nonsense, and suddenly you’re a bloody expert, are you?”

“So.”  She looked satisfied.  “You read up on me.”

“No,” he said truthfully.  “I just know what cloth the new breed of politicians is cut from, that’s all.  I know there’s a path to be taken, a set of milestones to be reached, and it has nothing to do with understanding what the majority of working class people go through in this country.  Picking a political party is all about what colour tie suits, for a lot of you.”

“That’s remarkably cynical,” she said flatly, and he shrugged, taking a sip of whisky.

“Goes with the territory.”

“I read about you,” she said.

“I’d be astonished if you hadn’t,” he said.  “It’s all true. Even the bad stuff. Actually, especially the bad stuff.”

“Left school at sixteen, no qualifications, worked your way up from the shop floor in the shipyards,” she went on.  “Quite the firebrand as a union rep, by all accounts.”

Her focus on his background, his lack of qualifications, made him bristle, even as he told himself for the thousandth time not to let his lack of formal education bother him.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not,” she said.  “But given that you’ve reached the highest office in the land, it might be time to get past the chip on your shoulder.  The fact that some have a more privileged upbringing than others doesn’t make their contributions worthless or their intentions less honourable.”

He kept his face smooth, but inwardly he was quivering with outrage.  She may have been right, and it may have been something he told himself regularly, but he didn’t appreciate hearing it.

“I’m not ashamed to call out inequalities when I see them,” he said evenly.

“Then maybe you can understand the reasons for my passion,” she countered, and he tilted his head.

“Oh, I do,” he agreed.  “I also know what this place is like, Miss French.  You can’t get your way all the time. Public service is about compromise. Something you’ll learn in time, I have no doubt.”

“The greater good?” she said sardonically.  “Yeah, that always ends well…”

“Like I said.”  He took another sip.  “Pick your battles.”

She took a sip of her own drink, eyeing him over the rim of her glass.

“Well, since you were kind enough to offer me some of your whisky,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll take your advice.”

“Good.”

“At least for tonight.”

He smiled briefly, and some of the tension left the air.

“Why politics, anyway?” he said, gesturing with his glass, the whisky sloshing inside it.  “Surely you could make better money with better hours doing something else?”

“Do you do this for the money, then?”

“You must be fucking joking.”

“Then why would you assume I would?”

It was a fair point, but he stared at her unblinking, wanting a reply to his original question.  After a moment she sighed, setting down her glass.

“I wanted to do some good,” she said simply.  “Thought I could do more from this place. Couldn’t do much worse than my predecessor.”

“I always find that a bar being set low only invites people to try to go under it, but fair enough.”

“There’s that cynicism again.”

He glanced away to hide a smile, and took another sip of his drink.

“How did you manage to swing the place on the committee, anyway?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Sweet-talked Sir Anthony, how’d you think?”

“I think,” he said, “that Sir Anthony is a fool if he underestimates you.”

“Well, I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

He grinned at that.

“And other than picking a fight with me, how did you find your first meeting?” he said.  “What you expected?”

“More or less,” she said.  “You know what they say, know your enemy.”

“Are we enemies?”

“I hope not.”  She took a drink.  “We both have similar goals, after all.  We’re just on slightly different sides.”

“Perhaps adjacent rather than opposite, then,” he suggested.

She had pursed her lips a little, an amused glint in her eyes.

“You know the press thinks we’re having a passionate affair, right?”

“So I heard,” he grumbled.  “I’m sorry about that.”

She giggled, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said.  “Considering the other men I spend my days with, it could definitely be worse. At least you’re actually my type.”

He almost choked on his whisky at that, and tried to keep a straight face while his eyes watered.

“I’m just hoping no embarrassing pictures from my university days surface while they’re raking around in my private life,” she went on, seemingly oblivious.  “I suppose you’re used to it by now.”

“A single man is a rare thing in this job,” he said.  “Tends to invite speculation. No doubt you can wheel out some large and manly boyfriend to prove them wrong.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said.  “It’s just me and the cats. You’ll have to put up with the gossip.”

“Fuck ‘em, I don’t care what they say.”  He took another drink. “You have cats?”

“Two,” she said.  “They’re called Fifi and Fudge.”

“Well, that’s Arthur,” he said, nodding to the tabby, who had jumped onto one of the chairs and was watching them placidly with jade-green eyes.

“He’s gorgeous.”

“Aye, and he bloody well knows it.”

She smiled, turning a little and sitting on the edge of his desk.  It made his eyebrows climb, but he said nothing. It seemed rude to make her look over her shoulder at him, so he got up, pacing the room with his glass in his hand, listening to the low tick of the clock and feeling her eyes on his back.  When he turned to face her, she had gotten a better seat on the desk, knees crossed, her legs long and pale and perfect. Her lips were parted, full and moist, and for a brief, insane moment he wondered how it would feel to kiss her. He felt a tug low-down in his groin, and took a drink in a bid to ignore it, relishing the mellow heat of the whisky in his mouth.

“How are you finding being an MP?” he asked almost desperately, hoping the innocuous question would get his mind out of the gutter.

“Hard work so far,” she admitted.  “And living in London is - very different. I enjoy the work, but it’s still a relief to get back to the country.”

“Aye, I can understand that,” he said, with a nod.  “You can lose perspective, being here too much of the time. It’s good to ground yourself every now and then.”

“There’s a reason they call it the Westminster bubble, I guess.”

“I guess so.”

Silence.  He watched as she finished her drink.  Good.  She’ll go.

“Another?” he heard himself say, and could imagine the sensible part of his brain making an incredulous gesture.  She held up her glass.

“Oh, go on, then,” she sighed, a tiny smile curving that perfect mouth.

He finished his own, and stepped forward to take the glass from her.  Their fingers brushed, a swift rush of pleasure making him shiver, and she licked her lips as she glanced at him.  His heart was thumping hard, the perfume she wore drifting into his nose, and he was finding it hard to breathe.

“It appears I’m very easily led astray,” she said, holding his gaze.  “Tongues will wag.”

“Everyone in this place knows how to keep their mouth shut, I assure you.”

He wanted to wince as he turned to the whisky bottle.  Why the hell had he said that? It wasn’t as though he was contemplating - no, best not to let his mind go there.

“Well, I imagine secrets are a part of life, at your level,” she observed.

“Sometimes it’s necessary.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

It felt as though they were talking in code, each fully aware of what the other was saying but choosing not to acknowledge it openly.  He told himself he was creating a ridiculous fantasy in his mind, and poured two small measures of whisky, his hand shaking slightly.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, hoping that his mind would find something to latch onto other than how lovely she was, how good she smelled and how much he wanted to kiss her.

“Not too far.  I just moved into a place in Battersea.  Far cheaper than the city, and easy enough on the Tube.”

“Well, I could have one of the cars take you home,” he said.  “It’s no problem.”

“Are you going to let me drink that whisky first?”

He turned, carrying it over to her, and she took the glass from him, swinging her legs a little.  At that height, she was at just the right position to kiss, and he licked his lips, imagining how it might feel to have his mouth on hers, to taste her on his tongue.  How good it would feel to slide her skirt up to her waist and expose all of those perfect legs, to put his hands on her thighs and push them apart and press himself against her.  His cock twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheeks, hard. She eyed him over the rim of her glass as she sipped at the whisky, her eyes wide and clear and beautiful.

“I do have chairs, you know,” he remarked, and she shook back her hair.

“Does it bother you that I’m sitting on your desk?”

“No.”  No, it doesn’t bother me.  ‘Bother’ isn’t the word I’d use.

“In that case, I’m fine.”

Silence.  The clock ticked.  Arthur stood up with a prrp noise, turned around and curled up again.

“So,” he said, wishing she’d drink faster.  “You got elected. Now what?”

“Now I fight for my people,” she said simply.  “If you want to meet to talk about how that might be achieved, my diary is open.”

She shifted position a little, uncrossing her legs, and he felt his pulse increase, the blood pounding in his throat.

“Well, mine certainly isn’t,” he said truthfully.  “But that’s not to say your concerns and priorities won’t be addressed.”

“Good.”  She took a sip of her drink.  “I’ll put them in writing then, shall I?  Like a good girl.”

“Please do.”  He elected to ignore the dry tone of voice she used.  Protocol was protocol, after all.  He dimly recalled finding it just as much of a pain in the arse when he himself was first elected.  “What are your ambitions?”

“Well, Shadow Cabinet within two years, for a start.”

“Unlikely, given your party’s numbers,” he remarked.  “I know we’re not technically a two-party system, but we may as well be.”

“For now,” she acknowledged.  “But these things aren’t set in stone.”

“So, you’re hoping for a future coalition?”

She smiled at that, a tiny, secretive smile.

“I'm keeping my options open.”

More silence.  Sutherland took a larger drink of whisky than he had intended, coughing slightly, and Miss French sipped her own, eyes flicking around the room.

“I know you’re disappointed about being thrown off the committee,” he said. “But I have to be seen to be impartial. Any whiff of prior interests—negative or positive—and the press would be all over me like a fucking rash. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I do,” she admitted.  “But if you ever want to discuss things off the record, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“And make sure you keep me in mind for anything else that may need cross-party input,” she added.

His mouth flattened, but he raised his glass.

“You’re tenacious, Miss French,” he said.  “I’ll give you that.”

“When I see something I want, I go for it,” she said.

There was a moment of silence, a moment in which she met his eyes with a steady gaze.  It gave him a flutter of nerves in his belly, made his mouth dry, and he licked his lips.  Fuck’s sake, man, get your mind out of the gutter, that’s not what she meant!

“You - uh - want me to call you that car?” he asked.

“I’ll take the Tube,” she said, with a shrug.  “It’s not too late.”

Another look, her eyes flicking over him.  His heart was thumping, and he threw back the remains of the whisky.

“Well,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.  “If you’re done with your drink, I’ll say goodnight.”

“For now,” she said.  “You haven’t seen the last of me, Prime Minister.”

“I’d be disappointed if I had,” he said, in a dry tone.

She grinned, draining her glass and setting it down with a clink before she slipped from the desk.

“Goodnight, sir,” she said, and walked out, her hips swaying enticingly.

Sutherland waited until she had closed the door behind her, and sagged a little, letting out a breath that seemed to be all that had kept him upright.  He glanced across at Arthur, who blinked at him contentedly.

“Well,” he said.  “It appears I’m in fucking trouble.”