#and then Emma asked him when he’s coming to London and he said no very determined hahahah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mikefaistslut · 6 months ago

Text

anything for you

chapter 2:

(reminder: this is my first writing anything ever! pls keep that in mind. another reminder, this is entirely a work of fiction based on Mike Faist. Enjoy! <3)

He was so pretty it was hard to make eye contact as I spoke to him.

"Emma," I say with a smile as I reach my hand out to shake his. He has a kind smile, I think to myself as his hand touches mine. With that, he puts his own things away and gets comfortable for the long journey ahead. As the remainder of the passengers board the plane and a flight attendant shuts the door, I feel my whole body tense up. In just a few minutes, the plane is going to take off into the sky, and I'm going to feel like I'm dying. I try to think of things to distract myself. The color of the airplane seats, the number of passengers I can see straight ahead of me, and whether I'm going to choose diet Coke or ginger ale when the flight attendant comes by later to offer us refreshments. All of my tactics work until I feel the plane begin to shift forward. Slowly at first, circling the tarmac towards the runway. Then, all at once; reaching over 100 mph. As I feel the plane lift off the ground and tuck its wheels under, I feel myself start to breathe quicker, and my eyes clench shut.

As the plane begins to climb in the air, I feel a hand grab ahold of mine that's been clenching the armrest since I sat down. "Are you okay?" Mike speaks softly, understanding the stress I'm obviously under. I nod, not really being able to talk.

"Squeeze my hand. Hard as you need to." He opens his hand up and I let my fingers intertwine with his, squeezing as hard as I want to, just like he said. I feel a little more comfortable in his presence. I gain a little confidence.

"Ask me something. Ask me anything." My own mind is no longer enough to keep me distracted. "What's your favorite color?" He asks. "Maybe something a little less personal," I tease, still clutching his hand. "Right, my bad. What do you think happens when we die?" He pushes back. "Purple," is all I can think to say. He laughs.

At this point, the plane has fully ascended into the air and we're coasting at a steady pace.

"Thank you for that, really. I've never been good with that part of the flight. Or the coming back down, now that I think about it. So I'll be needing you again in about ten hours." He chuckles and rubs circles onto the back of my hand with his thumb. At this point, I realize I'm still holding on very tightly to his hand. I could've held onto that hand for the rest of my life. However, not wanting to appear creepy, I politely gave the man his hand back.

"So what brings you to London?" He asks. "Personal trip, actually. I've always wanted to go. I've been saving up for years. What about you?"

"I'm actually going for work. I'll be in play on the West End." That really caught my attention. "Really? What play?" He could've said he was going on a business trip as a data reconfiguration analyst and I still would've hung on to every word he said, but an actor in a play was so unbelievably cool.

"You ever seen Brokeback Mountain? Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger? Gay cowboys?"

"Duh? So someone turned it into a play? That's SO cool. So who are you playing?" I asked, now fully intrigued.

"Jack, actually! I'm really excited." He smiled proudly, as he should have. "Woah! Well, I've been dying to see a play on the West End. Maybe I'll get tickets to come and see you."

"You should! Seeing at least one friendly face in the crowd would be nice." He smiles at me again, the most beautiful, tight-lipped smile.

I feel my cheeks heat up. "So is acting a full-time gig, or do you have anything else to keep you busy?" As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how insulting that must sound. He smirks back at me as my eyes get wide, realizing how rude I just was. I worry I've ruined this whole flirtatious interaction we've been having. Luckily, he just chuckles back at me and says, "Um, you know I haven't been asked that question in a long time. I suppose acting is it for me at the moment."

"Just stage plays, or anything I might've seen?" I quickly recover.

"Yeah, mostly stage plays. A couple of short films, nothing serious." He was being modest, I could tell. But I didn't push any further.

As the flight went on and I stared out the window, it began to feel very difficult to keep my eyes open. I closed my window, allowing myself to drift away.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

I felt a warm breath on my face as I woke up. I look to my left and see that Mike has laid his head on my shoulder as he's fallen asleep. I stare at him as long as I want to, as he's not awake to catch me admiring him. I glance out the window, looking out into the night sky a couple of times, before continuing to memorize every detail of his gorgeous face. I see his lips start to upturn into a smile.

"You like me." He says, matter of fact, with his eyes still closed. "You think I'm really cute and funny and you like me."

"Were you awake the entire time I was staring at you?" He opens his eyes. "The entire 45 minutes? Kind of. I was in and out. You definitely like me." He finally looks up at me.

"Were you always this bold or did you develop that in the theatre?" I say, gaining some confidence of my own.

"In the theatre, definitely. I never would've had the confidence to look a girl like you in the eyes before, let alone speak to you without stuttering." He said, taking his head off my shoulder.

The boys I'd dated in my hometown never made me feel pretty, but Mike, the theater boy from the plane, made me feel absolutely breathtaking. I couldn't help but smile. It scared me, the feelings I had for this man that were developing so quickly.

"Well, you like me too. Otherwise, you would've found my staring incredibly weird and off-putting, so." He laughs yet again. I love making him laugh.

"You're not wrong. I want to know more about you. I know your name is Emma and your favorite color is purple. Are you from Ohio? Or was that a connecting flight, maybe?" My heart was starting to race a little bit. "I am from Ohio, actually. I grew up about 30 minutes from Columbus, in Gahanna. You know it?"

I watched his eyes get wide and his smile get even wider. "I grew up in Gahanna. I actually was just here for a few weeks visiting my family." I cocked my head to the side.

"No shit? Small world, huh? How come we've never met?"

"How old are you again? What year did you graduate high school?" He began to look a little cautious.

"24! I graduated in 2017. What about you?" He seemed to relax a little bit.

"I graduated in 2009, but it was a year early, so I was originally class of 2010. I turned 31 in January. Is it weird that I still like you?"

"Not even a little bit. It'd be weird if I was five years or so younger." I smiled at him and laid my head on his shoulder this time.

"Good. Because I really really like you. Would you want to get dinner sometime while you're in London?" I watched him think for a few seconds. "Actually, how long are you staying, now that I think about it?" "I'll be here for about 2 weeks. What about you?"

"It really depends on how well the show is doing, but probably through the whole summer." He lifted his arm so I could lay my head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around me. A bold move, but I felt comfortable with him for some reason. A flight attendant came over the intercom and announced that we'd be landing soon. As we landed, I gave him my phone number so he could message me when he wanted.

"I'd love to get dinner, just let me know when," I told him as we both gathered our belongings. After about twenty minutes or so, we were finally able to deplane. I looked at him, suddenly feeling attached, hoping this wasn't the last time I was ever going to see him.

We walked together through the long process that was getting out of the airport. As we walked out into the cool air of the London night, we turned to each other and he promised to see me soon. I hoped he was telling the truth. He kissed me on the cheek and lingered, only for a moment, then smiled at me and got into a taxi, waving goodbye.

My cheek felt so warm. I already missed him.

He messaged me about an hour later, as I got settled into my hotel room.

"So, how's tomorrow night?" I think I'm in love.

#mike faist #mike faist character #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #fiction writing

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mikailys · 3 months ago

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you said jason and candy's relationship was written while listening to "i can see you", do you have options on the others love interests?

Thank you for the ask anon!

Honestly I spent more time focusing on Jason's but I sure do also have some ideas for the other LIs.

Note: it's Taylor Swift centered because I find her music the perfect medium for storytelling and also cause she's the only artist i've been listening non-stop in the last year so yeah you don't have very much choice.

Also the songs are chosen purely based on the vibes they're giving me off, they might not be 100% accurate lore-wise.

Thomas: I'm Only Me When I'm With You. Whenever I'm listening to this song I immediately think about him and I imagine it as if he's telling Candy how he feels comfortable in her company and how she's the only one who understands him.

« When I'm with anybody else It's so hard to be myself And only you can tell »

On a similar theme, another song I think would fit their relationship is State of Grace.

« You come around and the armor falls Pierce the room like a cannonball Now all we know is don't let go »

Devon: oh our dear boss is a Lover boy. I can't unsee it also I feel London Boy would suit him but idk that's only based on my personal headcanons.

« And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years? »

But also has a certain reputation to be a New Year's Day boy.

« I can tell that it's gonna be a long road I'll be there if you’re the toast of the town, babe Or if you strike out and you’re crawlin' home »

Amanda: with her it is a bit more difficult since we don't know yet her background but I would say gold rush it's a good fit. I feel like she resembles the gold rush: everybody wants her, everyone would die to feel her touch but Candy imposes herself to do not fall for her cause she's well aware of their abysmal social difference - at least that's what their coworkers say.

« And the coastal town We wandered 'round had never Seen a love as pure as it And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea »

Another one is When Emma Falls In Love, slightly different theme from the previous one but it's a very cutesy and girl-in-love track.

« She won't lose herself in love the way that I did 'Cause she'll call you out, she'll put you in your place When Emma falls in love, I'm learning »

Roy: blame it the fact he's literally Taylor Lautner and Booboo Stewart's lovechild, it's only natural I associate him with the whole album Fearless and its title track.

« I'm tryin' so hard not to get caught up now But you're just so cool Run your hands through your hair Absent mindedly makin' me want you »

I have other songs in my head for him like Jump Then Fall or Hey Stephen but to tell the truth the whole album gives me happy-go-lucky young love vibes, which is perfectly in tune with his personality.

#and that's all folks #as much as i love them tho jason has more songs choices atm #i mean reputation is written about him #honestly for thomas i would consider both debut and red #amanda is a speak now girlie #devon is a mix between lover and rep #and midnight ??? mmh still thinking about it #meanwhile roy is fearless period #mclng #thomas rheault #mcl new gen #roy aquino #mclng headcanons #amanda de lavienne #devon okere

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 1 year ago

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hi! when did matt said ‘who?’ when he was asked about nettles?? i heard that nowhere and im very interested if you have other ‘news’ like that cause i feel like everything that is said during con is being either twisted or hidden😔

It was at the talk in July at London Film Comic Con, I believe (there was a talk at the winter con in November last year too, I went to both)

It’s not a case of everything being twisted or hidden at these talks, it’s because Showmasters (the people who run the conventions) wouldn’t let us take videos 😭 they said at the beginning of both talks that photos were allowed but videos were not, and they’ve got security posted around the audience to make sure of it. Showmasters are also very tight and won’t let people take pictures of the guests (actors etc) at the tables or anything like that. Like during the July con I was going upstairs and I could see into the green screen area from above, and Matt was in there, so I went to take a photo but one of the staff got pissy at me and told me off because “you’re not allowed, it’s not fair on the people who paid money for their photos with him 😤”… like okay, love, I paid something like £235 for the diamond pass AND an additional £110 for another autograph so I could talk to him again, chill the fuck out. Basically Showmasters HATE the idea of people getting photos, autographs or anything from the actors for free since it means they as a company don’t make money off it.

(For the record Matt was super sweet and after his talk was taking photos with a kid dressed like his Doctor, he’s an awesome person)

Some other things I can remember off the top of my head (I’ve probably mentioned some of these before but oh well):

When asked if he was Team Black or Team Green, he said “is that a joke? Team Black”

Someone asked how he felt about certain deleted scenes being cut, namely the scene of Daemon hugging his daughters (which there’s a photo/still of) and he had no idea what we were talking about 💀 he joked that some of the audience must work for HBO because we seemed to know more than him about it

He said that Daemon does love Rhaenyra. “Is it a bit weird? Yeah” but he does love her

“Working with Emma D’Arcy is great”

“No one can trust Mushroom”

Both he and Emma looked at each other like “???????” When they read the choking scene because neither of them thought it made any fucking sense whatsoever

In July he confirmed that he’d been filming in Wales for S2 so we COULD be getting Daemyra scenes since I think Emma was also seen filming in Wales

The reason Olivia Cooke and Bethany Antonia (Alicent and Baela) cancelled their appearances at the con in July is because of filming conflicts, they had last minute changes to their filming schedules

Hasn’t read ALL of Fire and Blood, just the parts related to Daemon (I’m guessing the Dance of Dragons sections)

That man did NOT stop praising the absolute shit out of his co-stars by the way, especially Emma. He also used the correct pronouns for Emma the entire time he talked about them, which I know is a low bar to set but still, my point remains that Matt is just so respectful of Emma and clearly loves working with them

“Come to my kitchen, I’ve got the sonic” 😏

He also talked a lot about Doctor Who at these talks, which - I’ll be honest - I have only watched one episode of (and it was his first episode) so I don’t remember anything that well about his Doctor Who answers. To add, sometimes the people at the con choose audience members with the STUPIDEST questions instead of fans with actual genuine ones - like in November when someone got the mic and asked him to give them middle names for their godchildren or something 💀

#matt smith #house of the dragon #asks #daemyra #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen

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gerec · 1 year ago

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AU-gust 2023

16. Road Trip

Pairing(s): Cherik Warnings: N/A

Charles received the letter upon his arrival in Calais, which led him to believe that it had been sent before he even left England to begin his travels. Grinning, he thanked the porter for bringing his luggage, and agreed to meet his tutor Mr. Summers for a late dinner, before retiring to his room and unsealing the envelope.

Dearest Charles,

Yes, I did send this letter ahead of your arrival, as I knew you would take your time in Dover before making it across the Channel! Just know that you are missed already, as Tony’s attention span is dismal on a good day, and he is entirely insufferable without your slightly less irritating presence around to keep him in line.

(And no, he has still not forgiven his father for forbidding him to join you on the Grand Tour. I imagine dinners at the Stark household will be very chilly for the foreseeable future.)

In any case, I have made arrangements for a Mr. Erik Lehnsherr to meet you in Calais and interview as your translator and guide. The man is a bit taciturn but well-educated and well-travelled, and most importantly speaks French, German, Italian and Dutch. He comes highly recommended by Christian, who met him and took him on as a guide during his own tour three years ago.

But Emma, you say, will this man be good company on the road? And will he be easy on the eyes? While I cannot attest to the former, Christian assures me that he is quite handsome indeed, enough to meet even your high expectations. Most importantly, he shares the same worldly outlook on relationships as you do – and my dear brother of course – so I am certain you two will get along splendidly.

Do remember to write, as I suffer here in London without your charming presence at all the best parties. I will keep an eye on Raven and Dr. McCoy, and send details of their burgeoning relationship.

Yours,

Emma

----

Mr. Lehnsherr sent word the next day, and Charles was quick to agree to a meeting at the hotel. He invited Mr. Lehnsherr to join him for dinner, but the man declined, citing a previous engagement that sounded more like a contrived excuse. And while everything Emma said in her letter was true – he had travelled all over Europe, and was fluent in all the languages of the countries Charles planned to visit – he was also prickly and almost condescending, as though he didn’t quite approve of the frivolous nature of Charles’ travels. His answers, when asked after his family and where he called home, were distressingly vague and curt, and, as their conversation drew to a close, Charles could not imagine spending months on the road with this man, who proved even more infuriating than his two best friends back home.

Finally, after he’d had enough of Mr. Lehnsherr drinking his brandy and insulting England’s weather, he blurted, “Why do you even want this position? You clearly do not approve of my reasons for coming to the Continent, or even to care for my very person. This trip is a chance for me to open my eyes to the wider world, Mr. Lehnsherr, and I will not waste it at the side of someone who will hinder instead of help me.”

Mr. Lehnsherr smiled, perhaps the first genuine one of the evening and replied, “Would you welcome the truth, I wonder? Well, here it is Mr. Xavier. My work as an artist requires that I travel, and a position like this helps me with my expenses. And while I do not think you will learn anything truly meaningful and worthwhile on a trek of luxurious decadence through Europe, I am a quite capable guide, and will do an exceptional job in showing you exactly what you ask of me. Whether you choose anything beyond the attending fancy parties is entirely up to you, as is the way you choose to flaunt your privileged wealth.”

Charles was stunned, entirely unused to such harsh judgement from someone he’d met mere hours before. He bristled as Lehnsherr watched him with those steely blue eyes, sharp and accessing as though he were measuring Charles’ character and finding him lacking. Part of him wanted to send Lehnsherr away with a sound rebuke, and yet another, bigger part wanted desperately to prove him wrong; to show him that Charles was not merely a spoiled rich boy, and that he intended to use his position as heir to the Dukedom of Norfolk to better the lives of those in his care.

“I assure you that I did not take this journey on for the parties,” he countered, with just enough chill in his voice to make his affronted feelings known. “I welcome a thorough education, not just of the rich but of the poorest in the land, though, would you call it decadence if I wanted also to admire great art and learn about music and history to enrich my soul? Before I must be married off and swallowed whole by a life of duty and tradition?”

If anything, Lehnsherr’s smile only grew wider, and for the first time, he met Charles’ gaze with something like approval. “I would be happy to oblige you, Mr. Xavier, in whatever manner of decadence you wish to indulge.”

His cheeks flushed with heat at Lehnsherr words, and he remembered what Emma had intimated in her letter; that the man might share his proclivities for the same sex. He held his breath when Lehnsherr closed the distance and lightly brushed Charles’ cheek with his fingers, only exhaling when he grinned and then stepped away again.

“Well, Mr. Xavier,” Mr. Lehnsherr said, licking his lips as he took a slow sip from his glass of brandy, “do I have the job?”

Charles blinked, flushing again when he realized he’d been staring at Lehnsherr. He poured himself a refill, before turning to meet the man’s steady gaze.

“Yes. Mr. Lehnsherr. Be ready to leave the day after tomorrow.”

#cherik #gerec writes #au-gust 2023 #road trip #the grand tour #18th century #day 16

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holdmytesseract · 2 years ago

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Congrats on 1k!

My favourite line would be from For Evigt by Volbeat: happiness, I'm sorry you've been on hold . I would love Tom Hiddleston himself, please and thank you, you gem 💕

a/n: Thank you so much for requesting and especially your kind words! 🥰 I hope you like what I wrote! 🧡 I chose a very young Tom for this, but we talked about this. 😉

Warnings: mutual pining? fluff

Word Count: 1058

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbs @kimanne723 @simping-for-marvel @coldnique

Lyric-Drabble-Mania Masterlist

Based on this song:

The Long Way 'Round

"You are kidding me, right?" Emma literally snorted out, as she sat across from you at the small table in the cosy coffee shop in London. It was a very rainy day today. Big grey clouds were hanging in the sky of London - typically British weather. That was one reason why you agreed to meet up with your friend Emma - sister of your schoolgirl crush, and now, uh, adulthood and actor crush, Tom. The other reason was, that you hadn't seen her in ages and today, the both of you had finally time to meet up.

You shook your head, scratching the back of your neck nervously. "No, I'm not." The blonde, young woman shook her head; clearly in disbelief. "Y/N... I just can't believe it... For how many years are you drooling over my brother now, huh? Since when do you have a crush on him?" "Uh... Since, uh, since college..." "Exactly!" Emma exclaimed, throwing her hands helplessly in the air. "You went to college together. You went to university together; spent so much time together - and not just in school... You did 'Unrelated' together - and are now about to do 'Wallander' together! Hence, Y/N, you two are obviously head over heels into each other! Everybody can see this - except you and Tom..." You felt your cheeks redden at her words. Emma wasn't wrong. You were head over heels into Tom - for years now. But you never gotten any signals from Tom, that you were more for him than just his best friend... Shrugging helplessly your shoulders, you replied: "H-He never gave me any signs... How should I know?" Emma looked at you, dumbfounded, blinking. "He didn't give you any signs? Sweetie, he gave you so many signs, I lost counting!" "W-What? What are you talking about?" Emma blinked again. "Seriously?! Did you never notice how he looks at you? Or how he always tries to be close to you? Gods, he's so nervous around you from time to time as well and he already introduced you to our whole family! His hand is always close to you and he smiles and laughs so much more! Y/N, if that isn't love, I don't know what it is..." You just stared at Emma for a moment, letting her words sink in. Nobody else had told you that before, but now that she had said it out loud, everything was suddenly making sense. Several scenes and pictures played out in your mind; your brain showing you the 'evidences' like a movie in a cinema. She was right... Emma was so right... Suddenly you saw everything clear now. How could you be so blind? "E-Emma, I..." You stammered; your brain overwhelmed by the sudden realisation. "Y-You are right, I... Gods, I was so blind..." The blonde woman nodded, giggling victoriously. "You were, yep... But don't worry, Tom is blind, too." Just as you wanted to answer her, you heard the significant ringtone, coming from your mobile - which told you Tom was trying to call you.

Emma seemed to notice, that you blushed even further, causing her to count one and one together. "Answer him!" She urged you, nudging your side. You did, accepted the call. "Tommy?" "Hi, darling." The Brit's charming, happy voice sounded through the speaker. "I just wanted to ask, if our date with the cinema still stands?" Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot about it. "Um, yes, of course, sure!" "Great. I'll pick you up in an hour, alright?" "That's perfect, thank you." "Great! I'm looking forward to it. Bye!" "Me too, bye!" You hung up again, facing Emma again. "The cinema date?" "Uh.Huh. He picks me up in an hour, so, uh, I guess I should leave now. Is it okay for you if I-" Your friend didn't even let you finish your sentence. "Of course, go! And don't forget to finally tell him you love him!"

About one and a half hours later, you and Tom sat in the cinema, watching 'Journey to the Centre of the Earth'. It wasn't a super scary movie, but a few scenes caused you to flinch and reaching instinctively for Tom's hand. You pulled your hand away again, of course, but at some point, you just forgot to pull away. It felt so right, was so soothing and comfortable, that your hand stayed in his until the credits of the movie rolled. Only then did you notice your 'faux-pas'...

"O-Oh, Tom, I'm sorry!" You stammered, trying to retreat your hand from his hand. But Tom didn't let you, just gripped on tighter. He loved the feeling of your hand in his. "I-I just forgot about it a-and needed something to hold on and-" You tried to quickly and hastily explain - but got shut up by Tom's lips suddenly crashing into yours. It was something you definitely didn't see coming. It was quite a bit out of the blue. Before your brain was able to catch up and your mouth ready to kiss back, Tom pulled back again; now clearly embarrassed and sad that you seemingly didn't have the same feelings for him. "I-I, uh, I'm so sorry, darling! I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, because, I-I just took a chance, thinking that you probably are-" This time, you decided to just cut him off and lean over to kiss him, taking now Tom by surprise. The curly haired man's eyebrows shot up, shock, but also relief painted all over his face. He didn't hesitate, kissed you back and pulled you closer while cupping your cheeks in his hands.

Panting and out of breath from the long overdue kiss you shared, you smiled at Tom - and Tom was giving you a toothy grin in return. "Why did we do that only now, Y/N? Gods, we wasted so many years..." You huffed, knowing that he was right. "Yeah... Sadly this is true. We pretty much took the long way 'round, eh?" You said, taking both his hands into yours, not bothering the leaving people around you and him. Tom was beaming by now, his baby blue eyes shining. "Happiness, I'm sorry you've been on hold - but not anymore." You had to giggle at Tom's almost poetic words, before you nodded, "Not anymore..." and leaned in to kiss him again.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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takadasaiko · 4 months ago

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Burn the Worlds Chapter Twenty-Four

Story Summary: Rumplestiltskin had everything set up just as it needed to be for his curse and to find Bae, but when an enemy bent on destroying him makes his way through to Storybrooke as well, he may find that his cursed persona isn't a match for the cleric. Pre-S1. AU. Rumbelle. Swanfire. Eventual OutlawQueen.

Chapter Summary: Magnus makes a dangerous discovery, Regina finds herself saddled with the Charmings, and Emma and Bae have a talk.

FFN II AO3

---

Bae had lived through more terrible experiences than he liked to look back on. Falling through the portal, starving on the streets of London, Neverland, his father becoming the Dark One… The strange thing about it was that almost every terrifyingly terrible event in his life had followed on the shirttails of some kind of happiness, or at least hope for happiness. His childhood had been happy despite the poverty and the fear, and it had certainly been a bright light he could look back on after his fourteenth birthday. He'd thought he'd get his papa back before the portal and he thought he'd found a new family that loved him before Neverland. Now, despite everything life had taught him, he'd let his guard down. He'd fallen in love and he'd let his father back into his life. Much like his childhood, danger was lurking in every shadow, but they could fight it. They could fight everything except for the darkness that his papa let in.

And with magic came the Curse. Papa hadn't said it, but Bae knew. With magic came the end of all the bright lights in his life.

Rumplestiltskin had always liked to keep his hands busy, and that was even more true when he was uncomfortable. Bae had watched him tame that after taking on the Dark One's curse, but he'd seen hints of it around Mr Gold. Now, as his father explained that magic had come to Storybrooke, he moved around the little cabin, rummaging and looking for who knew what as he spoke.

Yes, he'd felt it as soon as they crossed the town line.

No, he was not responsible for bringing it.

No, he wasn't sure how Magnus had managed it, but if there was one thing he knew about the old cleric, it was that he was equal parts resourceful and determined.

Baelfire pushed down his own creeping fears for just a moment to risk a look over at his father's True Love. Belle had taken a seat on a sofa, her clear blue eyes watching as he moved, and she was very, very quiet for her curious nature. Her silent observation only seemed to make Rumplestiltskin more nervous. His dark eyes darted between Belle and Bae, finally taking a breath.

It was Emma who piped up though. "Okay, so isn't magic just magic? You can use it, right?"

He pursed his lips together thoughtfully before taking a careful knee next to a low set of drawers to work his way through them. "There's light magic and dark magic," he began, his tone surprisingly patient on the subject. "This is… something else."

"Grey?" she offered, looking at Bae for confirmation. He shrugged and his father opened another drawer.

"There's certainly magic that doesn't lend to either extreme, but this is not that."

There was an inflection at the end of the sentence that caught both Bae's and apparently Belle's attention, but if Rumplestiltskin realised it, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Light magic has many more rules to follow for its use, and while the clerics claim to only use light magic, Magnus has been known to bend those rules to the point of breaking."

"How?" Emma asked, moving to plop down into the chair that Bae had propped himself up against.

"Like using light magic for torture," Belle murmured softly, drawing all eyes - even Rumplestiltskin's - to her.

Brown eyes flickered immediately back to the drawer. "Indeed."

"I'm gonna guess you have a theory on how he dragged magic into a world that's known for not having any?" Bae asked quietly. He was certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Likely that he attempted to manipulate the curse."

"Wouldn't he need something to do that? Whatever scroll or…." Person that cast it. Oh. That's what his father wasn't saying. What he was avoiding.

"Or what?" Emma pressed.

"How he did it doesn't matter nearly as much as how to use it myself. That's goin' take time."

Bae quirked an eyebrow at his papa. "You opened the door just fine."

"That's small. Something I could do in my sleep. Simple movements, teleportation… that's nothing, but if I'm going up against Mangus, we better be sure that I know the threads to pull together for the spell."

"And there's no way to defeat him without magic?" Belle asked softly, even if she sounded like she knew the answer. Someone had to ask, though.

"No."

Bae shifted his weight, trying to find the best way to ask the question that he knew he needed an answer to, but didn't want. His father closed the drawer he'd been looking through. "I need some items from the shop." He turned, meeting his son's gaze as if he were waiting for him to ask. "So if you've got a question, now's the time."

Baelfire swallowed hard. "Can you hear it?"

Whatever his papa was expecting, that hadn't been it. He started and stopped a couple of times, fidgeting and looking away. "Of course I can hear it, son."

"Can you fight it?"

"It - it's not so much fightin' it," he answered softly, the discomfort rolling off him in waves. He had hated discussing anything regarding the curse in front of anyone else when Bae had been young. Apparently that quirk still stood. "It's about striking a deal with it. The Dark One's curse, as the name would imply, feeds off darkness. That comes in many a form. When this is over, it'll come in Magnus' destruction and that… well, that's something I imagine you and I can agree on needin' to happen."

"And everyone else?"

"Are safe from me as long as they don't get in my way."

"What about that dagger?" Emma asked. "You said that someone holding onto it could control you. Is it -?"

"Safe. Soon as I felt magic, I put it away where only I can reach it."

Bae's eyes narrowed a little as he could practically see the wheels turning in Emma's head. That was the look that had produced the very best and the very worst ideas she came up with. There didn't seem to be any middle ground there.

"So what if Neal holds onto it?"

Rumplestiltskin turned sharply to look at her. "And why would he need to do that?"

"Well he seems kinda freaked out by whatever you get your power from and just because you believe you can control it doesn't mean you can." She held up her hands, palms outward almost immediately. "Doesn't mean you can't. I'm the last person to know that, but I do know your son. He's a good guy and he loves you. Seems like the best person to trust with it."

And apparently those rare moments when it was both the best and the worst idea at the exact same moment. Bae felt like he couldn't breathe as he watched his papa turn the idea over in his mind, Belle sitting quietly just out of reach. She didn't move, didn't try to sway him, but watched and waited. When he glanced her way, she offered him a reassuring smile.

Rumplestiltskin loosed a breath in the form of a sigh, flicked his fingers, and the Kris Dagger appeared in his hand. Bae did his best not to recoil at the sight of the evil thing that had done its damndest to destroy his father. It hadn't won, though, at least not yet, and his papa flipped the dagger over to hand it to him hilt-first.

"Are you sure?" Bae found himself asking.

"I chose it once," he answered, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Now I choose you. I trust you, Bae. I love you."

Baelfire reached out and his fingers skimmed along the handle and, as they closed around the hilt, his eyes met his papa's. Without warning he reached his free hand up and around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug that the older man readily returned, burying his face in the crook of Bae's neck. "I love you too, Papa. I'll guard it with my life."

"Don't you dare. Any sign of trouble, you call. You call me and I'm right here to protect you." He reached up to make sure Bae met his eyes. "Not it. You."

He shook his head, not willing to trust his own voice and Belle cleared her throat from where she'd stood. "Well then. We should get over to the shop, Rumple."

"We?"

She tipped up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. "We. Let's give the kids some time alone while it's still something like quiet."

His father nodded and Bae felt a small smile tug into place as he adjusted his grip on the Dark One's dagger. Belle had been good for him, that much was clear. And maybe, when this was all said and done, they could find a way to free his father from the curse for good. Until then, they'd make the Dark One's curse work for them.

----

There was a shift in the air, and for a moment Magnus mistook it for Reul Ghorm's death. The fairy lay dead at his feet, her dark eyes wide and hollow, her sacrifice in vain even as her precious Snow White grabbed her cursed prince by the wrist and ran. There was no escape, not from Storybrooke. He was even willing to give them a head start - to play the game fairly, of course - but a fraction of a moment later his mind registered that it had not been the death of an Original Power in the Land Without Magic that had rattled the fabric of the curse. No, she had nothing to do with its casting or even bringing magic to this place. Her death - tragic as its necessity had been - made little difference to the fabric of this world. The author of the Dark Curse had returned, and not just that. He had already begun experimenting with the magic he found here. Magnus could feel the power radiate out, and if given just a moment, he could pinpoint where…

And then he was floating, disengaged from his own physical form with a view few would ever know. Rumplestiltskin had not stolen every form of sight from him. He could see the woods, the dirt, and tracks through it where a vehicle had driven. He moved through the space in search for the epicentre of the magic used until he came across a cabin. There. That's where he was, at least for now.

"... going?" a voice cut through, ripping Magnus from the vision and he blinked sightless eyes, sweeping magic over the physical landscape to find Snow and her prince still trying to make their escape. The second flush of power froze everything in place. The birds silenced mid-air and the fish in the pond stilled as they swam. On the banks, desperate to get around and away, were the savior's parents.

Magnus moved unhurriedly towards them, his footsteps powerful and his sightless gaze fixed on them. He could feel Snow squirm against his spell that had locked her in place. "I won't let you touch her!" she growled, every inch the fighter that he'd heard of from the edge of his battle with the Dark One.

"I have no wish to hurt her," Magnus said and the emotion flooding through the strings of magic he had in place gave him a visual of her wide, green eyes and jaw that had gone a little slack in surprise.

Then, all at once, surprise was replaced with fortified determination. "You killed Blue for standing in the way of getting to Emma. Why do you think I'd believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"Mary Margaret," her prince managed, "I can't move."

"You are not alone," Magnus said as he stepped aside, pulling his phone from his pocket, the only number that he kept on speed dial ringing as he set it up against his ear. "He has returned to Storybrooke. Gather the twins and the thief up. We will not leave this to chance." Caiden confirmed from his end and Magnus ended the call, turning back towards the royal couple.

"I have no wish to hurt Emma," he repeated. "I also have no choice. Once the Dark One is dead, she is our only way home. I know it comes as no condolence for a mother whose child was stolen away from her by a madman with only his own endeavours in mind, but her sacrifice is her destiny. I will save us from this evil and she will take us home."

"Rumplestiltskin isn't the one threatening my daughter," Snow snarled. "I won't let you touch one hair on her head!"

"The decision is not yours to make." And with that, magic swirled around them as Magnus transported them to the only place deep enough below ground that the curious and cursed townspeople steered clear of.

-----

Her ears were ringing and somehow she found herself on the floor. She didn't know how she'd gotten there or even where there was. The ground was hard under her and when she finally managed to curl her fingers under her she could feel the rocky flooring. Slowly, painfully, she pried her dark eyes open to find the space washed in green light and a pair of small boots appeared, running directly at her. Their owner dropped and one little hand shook and shook her. "Gina. Gina!"

Regina groaned and shifted. Her head was killing her. What the hell was this kid - "Roland?" she managed, finally putting a name with the little voice that hadn't called her by name until that very moment. Or maybe a handful of moments before. She wasn't sure. Something told her she wouldn't have known if he had.

"Well isn't that interesting?" a familiar voice hummed as heeled boots sounded against the hard ground. That's right. Maleficent. She'd thrown a curse at her hard enough to pick her fully up off the ground and slam her against the wall. If Regina had had her magic, it would have been easy enough to deflect, but as it stood…

The Mistress of Evil squatted down, her jacket's long train that was much more suited to the Enchanted Forest pooling on the ground as she got a closer look at the downed, powerless Evil Queen. "Laugh it up," Regina growled, forcing herself to her knees. Everything screamed at her to stay down in painful jabs and sharp pricks of pain, but she ignored them. At the very least she could start healing her pride by getting to her feet and taking a physical swing at the sorceress.

"What did he do to you?"

Dark eyes blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness that her movement was causing, and she looked up to find a strangely concerned look on Maleficent's features. Would wonders never cease?

A small hand took hold of her sleeve and she looked over to see a very worried little boy next to her. For some reason, her irritation and embarrassment took a backseat and she tried for a smile. "I'm alright."

Roland's dark brows drew together and he turned a glare on Maleficent as he moved between the former fairy and the downed queen. There was a beat of silence as the little boy thought he was protecting Regina from the powerful sorceress that had attacked her, but it didn't take long for both women to crack and their laughter echoed through the tunnels. Regina could feel it through her bruised ribs and in every strained muscle, but she couldn't stop herself, and as the laughter continued - the little boy getting more and more frustrated by the second - it was the first truly familiar thing that she had known in nearly two decades.

"What did you do to garner such loyalty?" Maleficent chuckled as she sidestepped the child to reach a hand down to her old friend.

In the moment, despite what had just unfolded, Regina took it, her quip drowned out by the child in question. "She's my friend. Don't hurt her."

"No, I think you've protected her quite well," Maleficent murmured, real amusement finally in her voice. She turned her pale gaze back to Regina. "It's clear what happened, but I do confess to being curious as to how."

"Magnus. The Blind Cleric."

"I presumed as much. His little acolytes have been scurrying these mines like rats for years now. There wasn't much to do about it other than give them reason to avoid me…. Until magic came."

"As brief as that was for me."

"Might have saved your life. I was very put out with you."

"Why?" Roland asked and Maleficent smiled toothily at him.

"Aren't you precious? See, Regina? I told you pets are comforting." She turned that curious expression she wore back on Roland. "Because your friend Gina locked me away. And not just that, she locked me away as a dragon."

Roland's dark eyes went wide. "Why?"

"Because I dared to tell her no. She doesn't like that very much."

"Like you're any better," Regina groused as she finished her personal inventory. She was relatively sure nothing was broken. She turned back to her - former? - friend. "But magic's back, even if Magnus has cut me off from it. Why haven't you left?"

"He had everything set up for the day he'd bring it here, I suppose. All the right wards in place that activated the moment magic came sweeping through. Imagine it. The best I get is this form, but if I try to leave? I'm thrown right back to where I started. He was ready for this, not that anyone would expect any less from him. The man does know how to plan."

"Not like Rumple."

"Ooh. Now there's the battle of the millenia. How long's it been since those two actually went head-to-head? Was it before your time?"

"I don't know. Rumple didn't like to talk about him."

"Rumplestiltskin playing things close to the vest? Shocking."

The corner of Regina's lip tugged up at that, only broadening as an idea stuck her. "You could piggy back out of here. The moment you feel that shift, you can use the brief rupture in the containment spell to teleport out."

"Only if I took the person coming in with me. No. I have no interest in landing on the Blind Cleric's map."

"How're you gonna get out then?" Roland asked sincerely.

"Oh, sweet child. When you've been alive as long as I have you understand that curses don't last forever. Not even ones Regina here casts. Sooner or later it'll be broken and we'll all go catapulting back to our own world… or what's left of it. This isn't forever."

The jab struck deeper than Regina cared to admit. Her curse was as airtight as any curse could be. "Isn't it?"

"I'm in no rush, dear. I don't have a cleric breathing down my neck."

"So send us out. You don't want to fight him, fine. Rumple and I will wage our war, and when we win -"

"Bold assumption."

"- I'll free you."

That dangerous smile returned. "You'll still owe me that fight."

Regina matched it. "I wouldn't miss it for either world."

The smile faded and Maleficent tilted her head. She felt something moving. Something Regina could only hope she'd feel again someday. "He's coming?"

"Maybe. They don't always join."

"Send us."

"Both of you?"

"I promised the kid I'd help him find his father if he helped me get out. He led me to you who may just get us out."

"Look at you becoming a woman of your word." The mirth washed away. "It may not be Magnus coming, but it may well be. I have no way to know for sure."

"I understand." Regina looked down at Roland. "If I tell you to run, you run. Don't look back. Don't stop. Do you hear me?"

"But -"

"Do you hear me?"

He nodded and Regina turned to Maleficent. The older sorceress gave her a crooked smile. "Tell Rumple I said good luck. He's going to need every ounce of it."

"We all will."

Without warning, they were pulled away, Maleficent's magic shoving them through the crack in the containment spell and hurtling towards the unknown.

----

He had thought the world he had woken up to was crazy enough. He couldn't remember his name or his life or what had happened that had put him into a coma for… no one seemed to be able to tell him how long. Storybrooke was a strange place, but he'd done his best to convince himself that it was because he was limited to the hospital grounds. The few people that he saw regularly from the outside seemed normal enough.

Mary Margaret had seemed normal enough. At least until that morning. Now he didn't know what the hell was happening. Some towering blind man had killed a woman - a nun - by ripping her heart out of her chest and was talking about hurting someone else. Mary Margaret's daughter? None of it made sense. Not the shift in the woman he was beginning to fall for or the unexplainable events that looked like something out of one of the movies he'd watched while passing the time in the hospital. Part of him knew he didn't remember enough to know it wasn't real, but another part of his mind screamed at him that it couldn't be. This was a dream. Maybe he was still asleep and none of this had really happened.

He was jolted out of his desperate attempt to piece something that made sense together as they were ripped from where they were standing. He thought he saw some sort of smoke swirl around them and his grip tightened on Mary Margaret's hand as he felt like he was being dragged through the air. His feet were under him when he landed though, catching only the briefest of glimpses of what looked like a cave before the smoke turned green and he was right back where he'd started: standing by the lake with Mary Margaret's hand clutched tightly in his and the dead nun a few yards away.

He blinked hard, feeling like he'd gotten whiplash from the sudden movements, and found that they weren't alone. A woman stood with them, dressed in a torn pantsuit with short dark hair, and at her side was a little boy that couldn't have been older than four. His face was set in a determined sort of way like he was desperate to hide just how scared he was and he looked up at the woman whose dark gaze swept the terrain to settle on Mary Margaret. Her mouth dropped open as if she were looking for something to say, but Mary Margaret beat her to it, loosening her grip on his hand to step in front of him. "Regina. Of course you're behind all of this!"

Somehow the woman - Regina - managed to look even more startled than before. "Snow?"

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would you be aligned with Magnus? I thought you and Rumplestiltskin were -"

Regina's expression darkened immediately. "I would never align with that cleric." She paused, glancing down at the boy who was watching with wide, dark eyes, and she let her hand drop so that he could take hold of it. He did without hesitation. "Magnus had us trapped in the mines."

"The lady with the green smoke got us out," the boy piped up.

Mary Margaret's dark brows drew together. "Who?"

Regina bristled irritably. "Doesn't matter. Hello there, David. You look… confused."

The man that finally realized she was referring to as David blinked. "I don't…. What the hell is going on?" He looked to Mary Margaret. "Who's David?"

Mary Margaret turned back to him. "You are. It's okay. It'll make sense. We just have to find a way to help you remember." Slowly, an idea seemed to dawn on her and her pretty green gaze slid back to the other woman. "And Regina can help with that."

Regina snorted. "Oh. And why would I do that? This -" she motioned between them - "is better than I could have dreamt. You remember everything and he remembers nothing. Your prince is gone, Snow, and you have to look at the empty shell wearing his face every day." A smile broadened, but it was anything but pleasant. "I won. And now you'll live through the hell that you put me through for so long."

Frustration bubbled up at her vicious expression and the way her words seemed to slice through Mary Margaret. David took a step around the petite woman. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do, but he felt the sudden urge to do something. To protect her. Somehow.

Mary Margaret reached a hand out and it touched David's arm gently, but when he glanced back she was looking at Regina. There was something in her eyes that said she had a plan. She knew exactly what she needed to do. "You're going to help us because our goals are aligned. Because we can help you take down Magnus."

Regina snorted. "How did that work out for you just now?"

The little boy gave a tug on her hand. "Papa says we help friends."

"They are not our friends," she countered.

"But they wanna help!"

"We do," Mary Margaret pressed, turning her one-hundred watt smile on the little boy. "And we can. If Regina will let us."

He turned those big brown eyes up to the woman whose hand he was still clutching and David could have sworn he saw her hardened expression ease a little bit. "Please, Gina! Please can the nice lady help?"

Regina bristled at that and shot Mary Margaret a look that was one part distrust and the other loathing. "We don't have time for this. If you just can't stop yourself from tagging along, I won't stop you, but we can't just keep standing here in the open," she grumbled after a long moment.

"Are we gonna go find Papa?"

This time David was sure it was the little boy that softened her. "We're going to go find a way to find him."

He lit up at that and David looked over to Mary Margaret. There was a strange, distant look in her eyes, like she was caught up in an old memory. So caught up that she didn't start moving even as Regina and the boy did. "C'mon," he coaxed, taking her hand. "Otherwise I'm pretty sure she'll leave us behind."

She nodded and offered him a smile as she tightened her grip on him. "Don't worry. We'll get your memories back. I promise."

There was something in her tone that made him think only a fool would bet against her.

-----

Emma wasn't sure how long Belle and Gold had been gone, but the deafening silence that had settled in as Neal turned the weirdly shaped knife that was somehow linked to his father's magic powers - okay, that was all still so weird, even after she'd seen him toss around small flickers of magic as casually as he breathed - was about to drive her insane. There was so much at stake right now with so many unknowns. Not just the people she'd come to care about and the ones she thought she might want to care about a little more, but the question that she'd pushed to the back of her mind since the hotel. She was young, but she wasn't stupid. That's why Belle had wanted to give them time. She thought Emma should talk to Neal about it. Sure, talk to him and blow everything up. If he even thought there was a possibility that she was pregnant he'd grab her by the wrist, throw her into the car, and they'd be gone before they ever helped anybody. And Gold wasn't there to help with that beaten-puppy look that he'd given his son the last time that had helped to keep him there.

So she'd let him brood and Emma scoured every inch of the small cabin. Every bookshelf and nicknack. Every coat closet and quilt rack. She'd even gotten desperate enough to act like she was interested in the mantle over the fireplace. It was a small cabin.

The longer time stretched on, the more stir crazy she was becoming. They hadn't come all the way back to Storybrooke just to sit on their asses, and while it might be smart to wait until the one guy who could actually use magic came back to risk running across Magnus, eventually Neal might ask what Belle had been referring to.

With a huff, she turned towards the door. That, apparently, was enough to catch her boyfriend's attention. "Hey? Where're you going?"

He hadn't moved from where he'd curled himself into a chair, knees bent and knife in hand, but those dark eyes of his were fixed on her in a way that always made her feel like he could read her mind. When she'd first met him, it had left her feeling exposed, but the longer she knew him - the more she fell for him - those eyes had become home. A focused look like he had on her would, in most circumstances, calm any nerves. This was definitely not most circumstances.

"We came back to help Regina and apparently my parents are still out there. We don't know what's going on or what Magnus and his creeps know. I can -"

Then he was on his feet, his expressive features pulled in worry. "Emma, no. He knows you're with us. He -"

"Might come after me? Yeah. I got that part. Does it have something to do with the curse? Does he think I can help him or -"

"Pop thinks he might try to kill you to send everyone back home," Neal blurted she finally stilled.

"What?"

Neal dragged in a breath that didn't seem to calm the fear at all. "Papa doesn't think you can break the curse now, but he said he put a failsafe in to keep… anyone from going after you before you had a chance to come back and break it. If you die, everyone that's here and that's from the Enchanted Forest goes back."

"Does that mean you too?"

"I don't know. Maybe, but I think you're missing the point." He stepped forward, reaching his free hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her closer. "I'm not going to lose you. I get that you couldn't just run from this, but we have to play it smart. Promise?"

She couldn't help but squeeze his fingers between hers and she risked a look up into those dark eyes. Damn the man. Yeah. There was no way she was telling him about a kid until this was all over. "Yeah," she said quietly and saw at least a little of his tension ease. A corner of his lips twitched upward and he leaned in. Emma felt her eyes close as he pressed his lips against hers and she reached her own free hand up to the side of his face, guiding him a little deeper into the kiss.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

Hazel eyes fluttered open. "You too."

His expression turned a little more mischievous. "You know, they could be gone for a while."

Blonde eyebrows danced upward. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean -" He stopped abruptly, his gaze sliding towards the back door.

Emma snorted a laugh. "You were saying?"

"Did you hear that?"

"No…."

The door blew open like it'd been kicked in and revealed a lanky man with sandy hair and a dangerous smile curling his lips. A startled sound escaped Emma as Neal dragged her around, putting himself between her and the clearly unfriendly new guest. His opposite hand settled behind him, presumably to keep her from darting the other direction, but Emma saw the knife clutched carefully between his fingers.

"We don't want to hurt the girl or you," another voice said from the back door and both Emma and Neal's attentions jerked around to see a blond man in some kind of costume. With him was another man that looked identical to the one that had barged in the front door.

The second twin sneered. "Give up the dagger, boy."

Neal squared his shoulders, backing Emma up a couple of steps to reposition himself to jump in either direction. "Like hell I'm gonna -"

And then he was being thrown like someone had tugged hard on invisible strings. Neal crashed hard into the wall, but didn't let go of the dagger. Instead he grit his teeth, anger rolling off of him in waves, and he turned that determined gaze on his enemy at the front door. "Rum -"

There was a flick of the man's wrist, much like Gold had done to open doors and cabinets and the like while searching through the cabin. This didn't open doors, but instead sent out a strong gust of something powerful enough that Emma thought she saw it glisten through the air. The streak of power sliced through her boyfriend like knives that had been thrown, tossing him back harder than the first time and dragging a cry of pain from him.

A hush fell over the cabin as he crumbled to the ground, the fight over before it had really begun and Emma wondered if that's what magic really was. No wonder Neal didn't like it. She didn't think she liked it either.

And then all eyes fell on the dagger that had been driven loose from the groaning young man and as quickly as everyone had frozen in their place, they sprang into action again.

-----

"I'm very proud of you."

Belle's voice drew Rumple's attention from where he'd been carefully mixing a potion that he'd prefer to take whole rather than in its more combustive individual parts back to the cabin. "What for, dear?"

Her smile was soft and kind, and Rumplestiltskin felt the fluttering in his chest that it always elicited. "For trusting Bae with the dagger."

His curse stirred dangerously at the reminder that it wasn't in control and Rumplestiltskin pushed hard against it as he turned back to his potion-making, his skilled fingers tipping one ingredient into the waiting beaker to see it darken and begin to bubble angrily until he pinched the root he'd ground down into dust and sprinkled it in. The mixture gave to that, the colour shifting again and smoking wafting upward. "Of course I trust Bae," he murmured, risking a quick glance in her direction to find her smile hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown.

"Is it ready?"

"Just about," he answered, relieved to shift the topic away from his own vulnerabilities. "Another minute or so and it'll be stable enough to go back with us."

"Do we not need to protect the shop?"

"Oh no. There're enough wards in this place to keep even Magnus out now that they've got magic to pull from."

As if in response to the statement, the bell above the front door gave a sharp, abrupt jingle like someone had rattled the door without getting it opened. He met Belle's sharp look and motioned for her to stay where she was, grateful that she didn't argue the point. If Magnus' people were trying to come in through less-than-magical means, she wouldn't be in the direct line of fire.

Rumplestiltskin pushed through the curtain and towards the front door where he could hear muffled voices and the sound of someone trying to jimmy the lock.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this!" the familiar and irritable voice of Regina Mills growled from the other side of the door.

"It's been a while," the more surprising voice of Snow - Mary Margaret in this world - answered in what she likely thought was a hushed tone. "And why can't you just magic it open?" Interesting. Somehow Snow had woken up.

Rumple flicked his fingers, the lock flipped, and the door swung open to reveal three surprised faces. "Because Regina, for all her talent, never could break my wards." He flashed them a sharp grin.

Snow White gaped a little as she stared at him. "Rumple…stiltskin? Is that you?"

He heard the light sound of footsteps and the curtain opening behind him as Belle joined the more or less friendly crowd. "Indeed it is," he answered without bothering to curb the amusement in his voice. "And my my…. There must be quite a story here. Tell me, Regina, how did you come by your step-daughter and her charming husband in all of this?"

The prince in question gave him a strange look at the statement while the Evil Queen's lips tugged downward. "What do you think? Magnus."

"It's good to see you're alright," Belle offered.

"Of course I am," she answered briskly and movement caught Rumple's attention. Hiding behind her torn pant legs and utterly unnoticed up until that point, a little boy with a mop of dark hair peeked around.

Rumplestiltskin may have finally noticed him, but it was Belle who greeted him. "Hello there. Who might you be?"

The little boy moved just a bit more out into the open. "Roland," he answered, never straying far from Regina. Rumple didn't miss how she reached down and the boy instantly grabbed her hand. "Are you gonna help us find my papa?"

The Dark One snorted, ready to wave the child off and tell him they had bigger issues to worry about, but Belle shot him a look like she just knew what was going through his mind. "We'd love to help," she said firmly.

Rumple snorted as he turned to limp back into the shop a bit further. "Well c'mon now. Don't just stand there in the doorway. Wards work best on sealed walls. We'll need to -"

And then he felt it. The jarring pull of his curse as the summoning slammed into him by way of his name being called and his own magic snapped him out of the shop.

----

They stood there, the pawn shop suddenly short one obnoxious sorcerer, and Regina's gaze snapped to Belle. "Where the hell did he go?"

To the side, the amnesiatic David looked like he'd finally hit his quota of unexplainable events. His eyes went wide as he turned to Snow. "What just happened? Did he… disappear? What -"

"Magic, David," Snow said quietly, her expression strained as she reached out in a comforting manner.

Belle's blue gaze remained fixated on the spot where her lover had just been standing, but instead of that irritatingly determined look that seemed to be a steady fixture on her features, the younger woman looked… worried. Afraid. She swallowed hard and seemed to try to steal herself. "Baelfire has Rumple's dagger."

"Who's Baelfire?" Snow demanded.

"Rumple's son," Regina answered dismissively.

"Neal?!"

The fear in Belle's eyes shifted and there was that damnable look. "Regina, we need to go. If Bae summoned Rumple, then he and Emma will be -"

"Regina, she's right. We have to go," Snow said, her voice strangely unsteady and when Regina turned she found those large green eyes fixed on her and pleading. "I know you said you couldn't teleport us because Magnus would know, but he already knows. We can't waste any more time!"

Dark eyes remained fixed on the younger queen. "Why do you care what happens to Rumple's son and his little girlfriend?"

Snow's jaw dropped like she was going to answer, then snapped shut. Again and again she tilted between whatever two options she thought she had and David finally slowed his own spiral into panic long enough to step forward, uncertain but desperately trying to return the comfort he'd just received. "I'm sure she'll be alright."

And then it clicked. It all made sense. "Emma. Your daughter."

"Regina please…"

"She can't help you."

Everyone in the room spun to see that the open doorway had been filled by none other than Magnus' right-hand cleric. Caiden stood with his usual sombre expression, blocking their exit. Regina grabbed Roland and pulled him behind her while Snow took a protective step in front of Charming. It was the only movement they could make before magic washed over them and every muscle froze in place.

---

TBC

Notes: Every time I have a long delay on a chapter I just have to think "well, at least it hasn't been a decade :') " As has become my habit, I need to apologize for the delay on the chapter, but at least it's a long one and a TON happens. Between wrapping Snow and Charming into the group, Regina finding out Emma is the savior, Rumple choosing to trust Bae with his dagger... it's a wild chapter. On that latter one, I was so freakin' pleased to be able to weave in a piece of Rumple's original speech to who he thought was Bae. It always broke my heart that he was so open and honest when August was fooling him and how closed off he was when he really did find his son. I think that thinking he'd found Bae and, in a way, losing him again when it turned out to be a scam broke him all over again. So yeah... very pleased with that :)

Next time: Rumple finds himself in uncharted territory, Caiden finds himself facing a difficult question, and the meeting of OutlawQueen.

#OUAT #Once Upon a Time #Rumplestiltskin #Belle French #Baelfire #Neal Cassidy #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Snow White #mary margaret blanchard #David Nolan #Prince Charming

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conradscrime · 2 years ago

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The Canonical Five: Mary Jane Kelly

April 02, 2023

Mary Jane Kelly is who is known as Jack the Ripper’s 5th and final canonical five victim, however, there is much less information known about her upbringing compared to the other four women.

It is believed by many that the information we do know about Mary Kelly is embellished, with her having fabricated details that are known about her early life.

The man Mary Kelly had most recently been living with before her murder was named Joseph Barnett, and he later claimed Mary had told him she was born in Limerick, Ireland around 1863 and her family had moved to Wales when she was a child.

Supposedly Mary Kelly had told an acquaintance that she had been disowned by her parents, but she was close with her sister. It was said from Joseph and Mary’s landlady that she had come from a somewhat wealthy, good family. Joseph also claimed Mary confirmed she had seven brothers and at least one sister.

Mary’s landlord, a man named John McCarthy claimed she had received mail from Ireland, but not regularly. It was also believed that Mary was illiterate, as Joseph claimed she would ask him to read her the newspaper reports of the Jack the Ripper killings.

Though it’s been reported Mary had blonde or red hair, she went by the nickname of “Black Mary” suggesting she actually had quite dark hair. She also had blue eyes and some claimed to have known her as “Fair Emma.” It is estimated that Mary stood at about 5′7″ tall, and some said she was quite attractive.

On November 10, 1888, the day after her murder,

the Daily Telegraph

described Mary as “tall, slim, fair of fresh complexion, and of attractive appearance.”

In 1879, at around the age of 16, Mary married a coal miner named Davis or Davies who ended up getting killed 2-3 years later in a mining explosion. After this, Mary lived with a cousin in Cardiff, and this is where it is believed she started being involved in sex work.

In 1884, Mary left Cardiff and moved to London, where she worked as a domestic servant while lodging in Crispin Street, Spitalfields. In 1885, it’s believed she moved to the district of Fitzrovia.

Mary eventually began working in a high class brothel in the West End of London, becoming one of the most popular girls. She did quite well for herself and bought expensive clothes and hired a carriage at this time. Supposedly Mary had met a client named Francis Craig who took her to France, but she returned to London two weeks later, not having liked the France life.

It is believed that in 1885 Mary Kelly began drinking heavily. She moved around quite a bit lodging with different women and different men around this time.

It was on April 8, 1887, that Mary Kelly met Joseph Barnett, with the pair agreeing to live with each other after only knowing one another for a day. They lived in George Street, and soon a place called Little Paternoster Row, but were evicted for not paying rent and of drunk and disorderly conduct.

In early 1888, the two moved into 13 Miller’s Court, a single room a the back of 26 Dorset Street, Spitalfields. Mary had lost her key to the door, so she would bolt and unbolt the door from outside, putting her hand through a broken window by the door. A neighbour claimed Mary had broken the window when she was drunk, and a man’s coat often was used to act as a curtain.

It was said by Mary’s friend Lizzie Albrook, that Mary was sick of how she was living in 1888 and wanted to go back to Ireland. Her landlord said that she was a quiet woman when she was sober but very noisy when drunk. When Mary was drunk she often could be abusive to people, and was nicknamed “Dark Mary.”

Joseph lost his job as a fish porter in July 1888 due to committing theft, and because of this, Mary turned back to sex work. Mary would often let other sex workers sleep in their room at night when it was really cold because she did not have it in her to refuse them shelter.

It is believed that on October 30, 1888, Joseph moved out as him and Mary got into a fight about a sex worker named Julia sharing their room with them. Between November 1 and November 8, Joseph visited Mary almost everyday, sometimes giving her money.

The last time Joseph visited Mary was between 7-8 pm on November 8, 1888. Joseph claimed Mary was with her friend, Maria Harvey and that he did not stay long. He also apologized to Mary for not having any money to give. It is reported that both Joseph and Maria left Miller’s Court at the same time.

Joseph went back to his lodging house and played cards, falling asleep around 12:30 am. Before Joseph left Mary that night, her friend Lizzie Albrook also visited. Lizzie claimed Mary was sober.

In the evening, Mary reportedly had one drink in the Ten Bells public house with a woman named Elizabeth Foster. Later on, Mary was seen drinking with two other people at the Horn of Plenty pub on Dorset Street.

A sex worker named Mary Ann Cox, who also was a resident of Miller’s Court claimed to have seen Mary going home drunk with a stout, ginger haired man, around the age of 36 at 11:45 pm. The man was wearing a black bowler felt hat, had a thick moustache, had blotches on his face and was holding a can of beer.

Mary Ann actually had spoken to Mary Kelly, they both said goodnight. Mary Kelly then entered the room with the man. Mary Ann heard her singing the song, “A Violet from Mother’s Grave.” She was still singing when Mary Ann left her place at midnight, and when she returned an hour later around 1 am.

Elizabeth Prater lived in the room directly above Mary Kelly. She reportedly went to bed at 1:30 am, and the singing had stopped.

A man named George Hutchinson who knew Mary, claimed he had met up with her around 2 am on November 9, 1888 on Flower and Dean Street. Mary had asked George for a loan of sixpence, though he claimed to be broke. George said Mary Kelly walked toward the direction Thrawl Street when she was approached by a man of “Jewish appearance.”

The man was looked to be about 34-35 years old and George said he was suspicious of him because while it did seem like Mary knew him, his appearance made him look suspicious in that particular part of town. It was also said that this man made an obvious effort to disguise his looks from George, having his hat covering over his eyes as he passed.

George provided police with a very detailed description of said man, and told them he had overheard Mary talking with the man, complaining she had lost her handkerchief, and the mysterious man gave her a red one that he had. George heard Mary say to the man, “Alright my dear, come along. You will be comfortable.” And then the two walked into 13 Miller’s Court with George following them, though George never saw either one of them again.

A laundress named Sarah Lewis also claimed she had been walking in the area to meet up with friends around 2:30 am, when she noticed two or three people standing near the Britannia pub, among the people was a nicely dressed young man with a dark moustache and he was talking to a woman.

Both the man and woman appeared to be drunk and there was a poorly dressed woman standing near them. Opposite from Miller’s Court, Sarah said she saw a stout looking shorter man standing at the entrance to the courtyard. Sarah also saw an obviously drunk woman with a man further up the courtyard.

Mary Ann returned to her room around 3 am that morning and claimed she did not hear or see any light coming from Mary Kelly’s room at the time. She did think she heard someone leaving at around 5:45 am.

Elizabeth Prater who lived in the room above Mary Kelly and Sarah Lewis who was sleeping at 2 Miller’s Court that night both reported hearing a faint cry that said “Murder!” between 3:30 and 4 am, but didn’t do anything about it because this was common to hear cries in the area. Sarah Lewis said it was only one scream so she did not think much of it. She also claimed she did not sleep that night and heard people coming and going out of the court throughout the night.

Elizabeth Prater said she left her room at 5:30 am to walk to the pub for a drink, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

On the morning of November 9, 1888, Mary’s landlord sent his assistant to collect the rent. Mary herself was 6 weeks behind, owing 29 shillings. Shortly after 10:45 am, the assistant knocked on her door but got no response. He tried to then turn the handle, but the door was locked. He looked through the keyhole but did not see anyone in the room.

Using the broken window, he peered inside the room and found Mary Kelly, completely mutilated lying on the bed. She was estimated to have died 3-9 hours before she was discovered.

The assistant ran to tell the landlord, and then went to inform the police. The assistant immediately told the police it was the work of Jack the Ripper. A surgeon came to look at the body, and police gave orders to prevent anyone from entering or exiting the yard (I know, impressive for 1888 police work.)

Bloodhounds were sent in, but it appeared to be impractical. It appeared that women’s clothing had been burning, and authorities believed Mary Kelly’s clothes were burnt by the murderer to provide light so they could see what they were doing.

Joseph Barnett identified Mary Kelly’s body, he could only identify her by the ear and her eyes due to the severe mutilation.

The mutilation done to Mary Kelly was the most extensive of all of the Whitechapel murders, with many believing it’s due to the fact that the Ripper had more time to commit this one in a private setting.

During the autopsy it was noted that it most likely took 2 hours to perform all of the mutilations on Mary’s body, the death was further estimated to have occurred between 2 to 8 am.

Her body was found lying naked in the bed, her head turned on the left cheek. Her legs were left wide apart, the whole surface of the abdomen and thighs were removed and her abdominal cavity was emptied (but later said there was food found in it). Her breasts were cut off, her face was hacked beyond recognition, gashes occurring in all directions. Her ears were partly removed.

Her neck was cut through the skin and her other tissues were cut down to the vertebrae. Her air passage was cut at the lower part of the larynx. Her heart was taken. There was also blood splatters on the wall, lining up with her cut throat.

She had a superficial cut on her thumb, which some believe was caused while she tried to defend herself from her attacker.

It was believed during the autopsy that Mary Kelly had been killed from a slash to her throat, and the mutilations were performed after she had died. It was not believed that the murderer had any medical knowledge.

The inquest into Mary’s death began on November 12, 1888. After testimony, the jury had a short deliberation and the verdict was that Mary Kelly had been murdered by a person or persons unknown.

Police did house to house questioning trying to get answers as to who murdered Mary Kelly. A few people claimed to have seen Mary on the morning of November 9, after she had supposedly been murdered, though police could not find anyone to corroborate those sightings, as well as the descriptions of Mary didn’t match.

On November 10, 1888, Mary’s murder was linked to four other murders: Mary Ann Nicholas, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, and Catherine Eddowes. There was also an offender profile made, which stated the killer was an eccentric person, who was in an extreme state of satyriasis while performing the mutilations on Mary and the four previous victims.

There were no other similar murders after Mary Kelly’s and a lot of people believe she was the final victim of Jack the Ripper. Most believe these Whitechapel murders ended due to the killer dying or going to prison.

Over 100 years after the Whitechapel murders, two authors named Paul Harrison and Bruce Paley theorized that Joseph Barnett, Mary’s partner, had actually murdered her during a jealous rage. They took the theory farther, stating that perhaps Joseph also murdered the other 4 canonical five, trying to scare Mary from engaging in sex work.

Others believe Joseph did kill Mary, but only Mary and had tried to make it look like a Jack the Ripper killing to avoid being captured. The fact that Mary was found lying naked on her bed, with her clothes folded on a chair leads many to believe that her killer was someone she knew or who she thought was a client.

Some people do not believe Mary Kelly was a victim of Jack the Ripper at all. Mary was assumed to be around 25 years old, much younger than the other victims who had all been in their 40′s. Also, her mutilations were more extensive than the other four, she was killed in a private location and her murder occurred 5 weeks from the previous killings which had all occurred within a month.

In 1939, author William Stewart theorized that Mary might have been killed by a midwife, “Jill the Ripper” in which Mary was going to have an abortion. Stewart believed perhaps the midwife had burned her own clothes, putting on Mary’s and that’s why people the next morning believed they saw Mary after she had been killed.

Mary Kelly was buried on November 19, 1888 in St Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cemetery in Leytonstone. None of her family members could be found to attend her funeral. The inscription on her grave reads, “In loving memory of Marie Jeanette Kelly. None but the lonely hearts can know my sadness. Love lives forever.”

#unsolved #UNSOLVED MYSTERIES #unsolved crime #unsolved murder #unsolved case #murder #jack the ripper #london #canonical #five #last #victim #whitechapel #murders

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tetsunabouquet · 1 year ago

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Heir To The Lands Chapter 2

Frail Peace Masterpost

Meanwhile, at the new Shadowhunter Academy, everyone was blissfully unaware and chatting about their free weekend after Diana; who'd began teaching at the Academy as their training instructor, had been struck by the flu. She was given a week off to recover, and as there were only a few practise training sessions on weekend mornings and no further class, Dru had gotten a permission slip to go to London for the weekend by portal. She was excited to go and see how the place was now Emma had declared it a completely finished with a cherry on top. Sure, she was bummed Diana was still too sick to come along. She had liked to surprise Jules and Emma with Diana's presence, but she was glad to go home for the weekend nonetheless. Who was not so happy Dru was leaving for the weekend, was her roommate, Thais Pedroso. "It will be alright Thais, I'm sorry I won't be back before Monday but I really want to go. " "I know," Thais sighed. "It's just, I really don't want Laura to sour my date with Tomas." Dru found this a difficult topic to respond to, considering neither were willing to be open about their issue. She could guess what had happened, but as long as neither confirmed and actually spilled tea, the only facts Dru knew were that Laura still wasn't over Thais and didn't want her to move on. Dru found that it sucks when her two friends at the Academy were fighting after a break up and she got stuck in the middle without knowing what's up. Though she did hope for Thais things would work out with Tomas, he was the most amazing guy in the Academy if you asked Dru. She would probably have been into him herself, if he didn't reminded her of Jules on the daily. She could not date someone who reminded her of her brother, but for that very reason she was happy for Thais. So all she could say was, "She won't sour your date with Tomas, don't let her fussing get to you." "I won't." Thais declared as she stood up and hugged Dru. "Good luck with the London weather, I demand lots of pictures to be taken of the place over the course of this weekend. I have never even been to Europe, outside of Idris." Dru grinned at her friend. "I will share, as long as you tell me every single detail about the date." "Oh, I will." Thais giggled before straightening up. "Now, you better get to Headmaster Garroway's office before he changes his mind about letting you go." Dru nodded, and grabbed her bag. She walked past the walls, some new as they had to expand the farm magically, some were old and original. The buzz of students who were chattering about their weekend plans filled the hallways, enthusiasm radiating from every corner of the school. She went right after passing the weapon room, and she knocked on the door and opened it carefully, not wanting to disturb Luke if he had been in the middle of something. He wasn't, and appeared to have been waiting for a while. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting Headmaster Garroway." "Not long. The portal has already been set up," He gestured to Catarina who was standing next to one of the walls and a shimmering portal. "Remember to come back before Monday's breakfast. If Catarina arrives in London and finds you missing, you'll get detention for the next month." Luke said, knowing he had to be strict. Dru nodded her head, knowing far too well how many people who hadn't chosen the Cohort weren't necessarily happy with some aspects of the Clave in exile either. Catarina coughed. "I'd suggest you'd hurry. I need to be in Devon to watch over Dimmet Tarn and Shadowhunters fearing nepotism claims from angry parents isn't that concerning to me." Dru sighed, and tried imagening Blackthorn Hall. As she thought she could see some of the wall paintings Julian had made, she stepped through the portal. It was a clumsy landing, and Dru nearly tripped over a small coffee table. Portal landings never seemed to be going easy. She left the room and smiled at all the beautiful details Julian had done, the care Emma had put into the interior decorations. They truly had made it a home away from home. "Jules, Emma, I'm here!" She yelled.

#twp #heir to the lands #the wicked powers #dru blackthorn #thais pedroso #blackthorn hall #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #the blackthorn family #luke garroway

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year ago

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Trick or treat! 🦇

Here, have 500ish words of TTOU that I'm many chapters away from broaching even if I started posting tomorrow (which I won't), most of it being under the cut.

Babies. Malcolm Tucker was minding multiple babies. How the fuck did his sitting room turn into a full-blown fucking daycare? His son was bouncing around, with Emma crawling at top speed after him, and his grandson laying underneath the overhead activity center. Having Conall was expected, Emma or Jack were alright to come over, but all three at once? With him as the only cunting adult? What did he fucking do to deserve such fucking torture? Oh, yeah, he simply was the one working at home that day.

“Da! Da! I gots a bug!” Conall announced as he bounced up to him. Malcolm was attempting to sit on the couch with his laptop computer, which had some very fucking important press release drafts on them. With the way things were puttering on, they needed to have five different versions of everything depending on not only the latest political gaffes, but also the UN's decision on whether or not to keep them in London. “Why do you keep on finding bugs?” he wondered. “I dunno.” The boy opened his hand and a spider of the non-biting kind was sitting in it, calm and collected. “Bugs are neat.” “Glad you think so,” he replied. “Now can you please let Da work?” “Okay!” Conall bent down and showed the spider to Emma, who poked at the creature in curiosity. “Bugs go in plants!” “Puh!” Emma declared. She followed Conall as he went over to the plant next to the French doors and placed it on one of the large leaves. “This is fucking mental,” Malcolm grumbled. He placed the laptop down on the table and got up to grab Jack, who was making suspiciously-cranky noises. He rested the infant against his chest and sat back down, attempting to continue his work. Three children under the age of three was going to drive him fucking bananas, but he was going to at least attempt it, so at least they could put on his epitaph that he died trying. He bounced Jack gently, soothing the child. “Just wait until you’re in this fucking game, lad. It won't be fun.” The baby drooled in response. “Da? Peppa?” Conall asked. Malcolm saw that both he and Emma were staring at him expectantly. “Yeah, yeah; go the fuck ahead.” “Yes!” Conall bounced—how the fuck was he always bouncing—to the Bluray player and turned it on, getting a Peppa Pig DVD to place in it. Before long the show started up and the two children that were capable of independent movement were entranced. Malcolm was almost about to think he might get some real work done, when his mobile rang. Fuuuuuuck... it was Dr. Shaw. “Better be good, Lizzie—I’m up to my elbows in nappies and bugs and dry cereal.” “Sounds like some pork roasts too,” she smirked. “…wait, how do you…?” “I’ve got tiny terrors in my family too, as unfortunate as it is to admit,” she said.

#tumblruser fajrbismuth by nature of everything deserves all the TTOU content #this is slightly edited to alter the names of the other two kids in the trio but otherwise this is about it #hint: Emma and Jack in TTOU proper are not going to be named Emma and Jack #they have proper names that are much better to the story but I'm not letting anyone know why rn bc reasons #The Thick of UNIT #fajrbismuth #racingincircles

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sarahlizziewrites · 1 year ago

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10 songs tag

I was tagged by @at-thezenith - thanks!

Doing this for Chrissie's because this playlist has been on repeat lately and also just has immaculate bi vibes.

I'm going to tag: @cottonberryfinn, @kaiafosterwrites, @malimaywrite, and anyone else who would like to!

Chrissie’s of London tag list (ask to be added or removed): @novel-emma, @tabswrites, @mrbexwrites

Crave - Years & Years

You come in and out of my dreams Fuck with my head, making me crazy I keep coming back to the scene Back to the bed and contemplating

For that part when Silas thinks he might fuck his sleep paralysis demon. You know, just out of curiosity. 👀

Who's in Your Head - Jonas Brothers

You moved like magic You moved like time [...] I wanna know who's in your head Stealing your heart while I'm still bleeding Who's in your bed Wrapped in your arms while I ain't sleeping

I think this is a Jacques song. It's the early-story jealousy *chef's kiss*

Make Me Feel - Janelle Monáe

Baby, don't make me spell it out for you All of the feelings that I've got for you

Had to put the bi anthem on the bi vibes playlist for the bi vibes WIP.

dopamine - Madelline

You've heard all of the secrets I'll never tell By now, you know me better than I know myself And it's nice, but I wonder What would life be like had I never known ya?

Mostly this song is on the list because there's a French version, and yes, I know it's about having an unhealthy relationship with your phone, but maybe it's also about having an unhealthy unrequited crush on your best friend? Yes.

Bad Ideas - Tessa Violet

I don't know what compels me To do the very thing that fells me I wake up, still high on you But by the night, I'm crashing through, so

Same, unrequited Jacques feelings. There's just so many songs for that exact vibe!

Violent Delights - CHVRCHES

These violent delights Keep creeping into my nights And they're reading my rites And I'll never sleep alone again

For the whole section of the story where Silas is being plagued by bad dreams and demons and visions.

that way - Tate McRae

I know what you mean when you act like that But you don't know it's breaking my heart Said that it was just never gonna happen Then almost kissed me in the dark

What do you get when you mix a disaster bi with his sad puppy best friend? Then add a little trauma and war, plus some magic? Messy gay pining, that's what!

The Lipstick on His Collar - Caro Emerald

I feel a little wounded and it isn't fair To sit inside a parlor and see him standing over there As smug as a robber that a cop can't catch The lipstick on his collar doesn't seem to match mine

Hey, a new addition and a Loretta song! Bitter feelings about her womanising boss, and a little bit of envy every time she sees him picking up a pretty girl - yeah, she has it pretty bad. Also, excellent vintage vibes.

listen before i go - Billie Eilish

Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious Leave me like you do If you need me, wanna see me Better hurry 'cause I'm leavin' soon Sorry can't save me now

Oh, oh fuck. Sorry... [redacted sobbing]. You're not allowed to know what this one's about.

Lover To Lover - Florence + The Machine

I've been losin' sleep I've been keepin' myself awake I've been wandering the streets For days and days and days

Silas "Bad Choices" Chrissie causing trouble in London and losing friends just because he got a few bad nights' sleep. My baby, my dumbass (affectionate).

#a man lives rent free in my head and he is called silas chrissie #tag games

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polijakefim · 1 year ago

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TRAVIS FIMMEL AT THE CRESCENT BEVERLY HILLS IN LOS ANGELES. PHOTOS: ZOEY GROSSMAN/ART DEPARTMENT. STYLING: RITA ZEBDI/JED ROOT. GROOMING: MARISSA MACHADO/ART DEPARTMENT USING KEVIN.MURPHY.

In a lot of ways, Travis Fimmel is an easy person to talk to. He’s kind and polite, and quick to deflect the conversation back onto you: Where did you grow up? Did you like it? Would you go back permanently? When we meet in person on a rainy day in New York, he seems keen to keep an abnormal situation—an interview in which a stranger is asking you personal questions about your profession —as normal and reciprocal as possible.

The youngest of three boys, Fimmel grew up on a cattle farm in Australia, and lived in London for a while before settling in Los Angeles to become an actor. His early career had plenty of false starts, and he famously became a model in the early 2000s so he could extend his U.S. visa. Since he made his debut as Ragnar Lothbrook, the protagonist of Vikings, almost four years ago, however, things have been going very smoothly. In the past year, for example, he played a hapless hippy in Rebecca Miller’s screwball comedy Maggie’s Plan and starred in the video game adaptation Warcraft: The Beginning, which though a domestic disappointment grossed almost $400 million overseas. He just finished working with Chloë Sevigny and Steven Buscemi in Lean on Pete, the new film from 45 Years writer-director Andrew Haigh, and completed Finding Steve McQueen with Forest Whitaker and Lily Rabe. Next year, he will film Inversion opposite Samuel L. Jackson.

But Vikings is still the project everyone is buzzing about. It has long been suggested that, at some point, Ragnar’s sons will replace him in the main narrative, and, after April’s mid-season finale, it seemed like the time had come. When we left Ragnar seven months ago, he had been decimated in battle by his brother Rollo and had walked away from his kingdom. Now, however, Ragnar is back and keen for revenge.

EMMA BROWN: With Vikings, you’ve always said that Ragnar’s sons are going to do bigger and better things than him. Is that something that you talked about with the creator from the very beginning?

TRAVIS FIMMEL: In history they went on and did better things, but yeah, I was only meant to be on the show for a year. I was meant to die that last episode that first year, but I didn’t; I ended up being on it a bit longer. There are great young actors playing my sons. A lot of shows get very repetitive, but I think it’s great that the young kids are coming in. It just gives new life to the show—some cool characters for the audience to follow. I hope they really enjoy this season. The kids are great. I’m excited for the audience to see these young people doing amazing things.

BROWN: Murdering and pillaging.

FIMMEL: Yes. Plundering and making love to strangers.

BROWN: I hear you’ve got to watch out for Ivar the Boneless.

FIMMEL: Yeah, that’s a great character—a great character in the history. All of them go on to do some very interesting stuff, but Ivar is a very historical character, and it’s certainly set up to be a great role and a great young actor plays it. I think the audience will love it.

BROWN: Will you miss Ragnar when you stop playing him?

FIMMEL: No. I’ll miss the crew and the Irish. There were a lot of laughs.

BROWN: Will you give up your place in Ireland?

FIMMEL: No, I stay in a little cabin. I stay whenever I want. I stay on a beautiful little lake. A great Irish family. Fishing all the time. It’s one of the most beautiful countries, and the nicest people I’ve ever met.

BROWN: How did you meet the family?

FIMMEL: We shot there. I can even take a boat some days to work to see the other side of the lake. We shot a lot of stuff on that lake. We had a camp there the first year—a Viking camp right on their place.

BROWN: You’ve said in the past that most of the crew already knew each other when they started working on the show.

FIMMEL: It’s just a small industry over there. A lot of them worked on that show The Tudors. A lot of them worked on Braveheart. They’re a great crew. We couldn’t have shot the show anywhere else.

BROWN: Is that why you want to work with Mel Gibson? Did they tell you stories about Braveheart?

FIMMEL: [laughs] No, no, I’ve always loved Mel Gibson. I think he’s awesome. I love the humor that he brings to everything. And he’s an Aussie. I would love to work with him.

BROWN: Do you have Aussie pride, or is it just Mel Gibson?

FIMMEL: I’ve got Aussie country pride for sure. I just like where I grew up. I think you’ve got lots in common with the people who grew up the same as you.

BROWN: When you were growing up, did you think you were going to be a farmer?

FIMMEL: Yeah, I still do.

BROWN: Do your parents still have their farm?

FIMMEL: They just sold it. It’s a bad week for me. They move out on the eighth of December. I don’t know what I’m going to do now when I go back. I’ll get a tent or something. Stay at my mate’s place. All of my mates have got farms there still.

BROWN: Were your parents disappointed that none of their children wanted to take over the farm?

FIMMEL: My grandparents were always farmers. My granddad is dead. They started with a really little farm, and then my uncle and my dad, they kept expanding and expanding and getting more farms. My grandma worked there until she was 85. She’s 91 now. She was milking at 85 before my granddad died, and then she couldn’t get out there anymore. My granddad had Parkinson’s, so he couldn’t change gears [while driving], so my grandma changed gears in the car. He couldn’t see very well, so my grandma would be the eyes. My grandma never got a license. She can drive, but she never got a license. They used to drive about a half hour every morning to the farm. They did retire and they got a place in town and then they unretired, just started driving out every morning at 5 o’clock or whatever.

BROWN: When you were little, were you good about doing your farm chores?

FIMMEL: Yeah, we always would milk before and after school. I liked it, though. That’s the type of work that I like. I didn’t like it on Saturdays when you had to go home and milk after football, but I love the country. I’ll get a farm over there one day.

BROWN: What will you have on your farm? Will it be a dairy farm?

FIMMEL: No, just beef cattle. Dairy sucks.

BROWN: When did you start riding?

FIMMEL: We had a little pony.

BROWN: A fat Shetland?

FIMMEL: No. [laughs] For some reason I remember a Shetland, though. I think somebody left a Shetland at our place, or maybe it was when we were real little. I remember when I was seven or eight or something we had a little white pony. And my dad always had a horse. But we did most of our stuff on the motorbikes, because it was all very flat where we’re from. I got a motorbike at three; we’ve still got it. It was an R50. Hopefully my little nephews will play on it.

BROWN: How come you haven’t quit acting yet?

FIMMEL: I haven’t made enough money to buy a farm. I want a big farm. Everything is expensive in Australia. I got a long way to go, unfortunately. I had a two-year plan that went to a four-year plan that went to a six-year plan. I’ve been trying to do this for 16 years or something now. Plans never really turn out. I’ll get a certain amount of money then I’ll go.

BROWN: When did you realize that acting was something you could do for a living?

FIMMEL: I don’t know, once I got a job I guess. There’s a much better chance of making money doing this for a while than farming. I don’t know why I’m doing it. I still have no idea why I’m doing it.

BROWN: Do people ever get angry with you for saying that?

FIMMEL: I don’t care. Why would people get angry at me? Do they think we’re curing cancer? I think people take themselves too seriously if they get offended by it; it’s just a job. I’m not knocking doctors. There’s some great stuff about acting and all that. It just doesn’t affect me.

BROWN: Did you ever go through a dry spell in terms of acting?

FIMMEL: Yeah, my first 12 years. [laughs] I think that happens to every actor.

BROWN: How did you get your first acting job?

FIMMEL: Just auditioning. I was in class for a couple of years before I had even gone out for an audition. When I decided to stay in L.A., it was to act. Then I couldn’t stay here because of the visa, and so I had to do the modeling stuff. [laughs]

BROWN: You didn’t want to do Home and Away or any of the Australian soaps?

FIMMEL: I didn’t want anybody to know that I was trying to be an actor at home. I wanted to do it over here so nobody knew. They didn’t know until I got a job—a TV series for the WB.

BROWN: Whom have you most enjoyed working with as an actor? You’ve worked some interesting directors like Rebecca Miller.

FIMMEL: I love Rebecca. I worked with a guy, Mark Steven Johnson, that I really loved just recently. I worked with Andrew Haigh; he’s an English guy. He was fantastic. I worked with him earlier this year.

BROWN: What did you like about him?

FIMMEL: Just a nice fellow and a gentleman. No ego.

BROWN: Have you worked with people with big egos?

FIMMEL: Many, many times.

BROWN: Do you have general faith in humanity?

FIMMEL: Yeah, of course. For sure.

BROWN: What qualities do you look for in a friend?

FIMMEL: For a fellow, just a good bloke I guess. Just nice people. Humor.

BROWN: Is your first impression generally correct, or do you ever change your mind about people?

FIMMEL: A bit of both, I guess. People have such a distinctive look to them these days. Whatever image they’re doing, a lot of the time it sums up their character a bit. There are not many individual people anymore—they dress the same as their friends. It’s a bit weird; everybody is trying to be different, but then they’re exactly the same as whatever mob they hang out with.

BROWN: Do you think individualism is important?

FIMMEL: Yeah, of course—not worrying about what other people are wearing and any of that stuff.

BROWN: Did you ever worry about that stuff—what people thought of you—when you were a teenager?

FIMMEL: I remember putting gel in my hair—I had the spike and the rat’s tail. I got a flat top for a while. That was between 12 and 16.

BROWN: Have you ever lied to get a job?

FIMMEL: I think every job you have to lie to get. You always say how wonderful it all is, that it’s an amazing script—”I love you, you’re such a great director.” I think every actor does that.

BROWN: What about, “Of course I can do a perfect Irish accent,” or, “I’m a great guitar player.”

FIMMEL: No, I’ve never done that ever. You’d get found out so quick. Who are you people trying to kid?

BROWN: Have you ever had to really fight for a job?

FIMMEL: Yeah. Most jobs you have to fight for. For my first job, I auditioned like 13 times. You go back in, you’re writing letters. It happens all the time. It’s not a very easy industry to be a part of.

BROWN: If your older brothers both work in the mines in Western Australia, and you were a Calvin Klein model, do they ever make Zoolander jokes?

FIMMEL: No, they know me too well. [laughs] They know I was just trying to get a visa, you know? It got me a visa for three years. They think it’s funny.

VIKINGS AIRS WEDNESDAY NIGHTS ON THE HISTORY CHANNEL.

#travisfimmel #vikings #ragnar lothbrok #travis fimmel #ragnarlothbrok #polijake_fim

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bijouxcarys · 8 months ago

Text

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Masterlist

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟔

𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬. I always liked getting the end spot at the dinner table, especially when it was summer, the sun beaming down at the school and allowing us to sit outside rather than in the cramped hall.

“I’m just telling you that Dennis is the one who brings everything together. Don’t you listen to music? The drums are the most important part!” Emma squealed, shoving a mouthful of pasta from her plate into her mouth. “Drummers are hot!” She spat through the food. I grimaced at her, hoping I was out of the way of any potential bits flying at me.

“Oh my God, don’t talk with food in your mouth, it’s gross!” A friend covered her face, moving backwards, almost falling off the bench. I cackled to myself. “And no, I think you’ll find it’s Brian Wilson, my baby, that’s the best, thank you very much.”

“Maria, back me up on this.” Emma pleaded with a now empty mouth. “Dennis is the best member in The Beach Boys.”

My eyes flicked to our other two friends, before sighing and sitting up properly. “I don’t really care about the members too much, I literally just like their music. But if I had to choose one of them, I’d say Brian Wilson. Sorry, Em.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, swigging out of her bottle of water.

The friend sat beside me laughed at Emma’s reaction. “Why Brian?”

“I like the name Brian, so I based it on the names.” I smirked to myself, looking down at my plate. As Emma and the others fought over their preferences, I took it as an opportunity to rip a small piece of bread out of my sandwich and push it past my lips.

Everyone’s staring at you, Maria.

“No one is staring at you, Brian! I just pointed it out because it’s not your usual scarf choice,” I reassured him, a hint of teasing in my voice.

He playfully pouted. “You’re mocking my fashion sense now? I see how it is.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Come on, we’re practically Freddie Mercury’s best friends. How can I judge anyone based on their fashion choices?

He grinned mischievously. “Ah, but there’s a difference. I’m straight, and he’s… well, not so straight.”

With a small smirk, I looked at my boyfriend. “I thought you said nobody really knew.”

He sighed, kicking a pebble along the pavement. “I know, but it’s not exactly subtle, is it? Anyone with a brain cell can tell.”

His words weighed on me, and I took a moment to absorb the midday London air before responding. “Do you think it’s obvious for everyone? Someone’s sexuality, I mean.”

Glancing at me, he pondered the question. “I don’t actively seek that out. I believe a person’s sexuality shouldn’t determine your friendship with them. But I do notice when someone doesn’t feel the need to hide it, at least among their friends. You know Freddie doesn’t hide who he is from us. And if any of my other friends came out to me, it wouldn’t change how I see them. I’d respect and admire their honesty. I think the world is slowly becoming more accepting of everyone. We’re not there yet, but progress had been made. Sorry, I’m rambling. Why did you ask, love?” He looked down at me, squeezing my hand.

I swallowed, shrugging my shoulders. “No reason.” Changing the subject, I mustered the courage to ask, “Can I ask you something else?”

Brian chuckled at my quick change of topic and focus ahead again. “You can ask me absolutely anything.”

Chewing on my lip, I accidentally tore a bit of skin—a terrible habit of mine. “Have you noticed anything—”

“The bakery’s open!” Brain excitedly interrupted, pointing to the shop where I spotted fresh cinnamon buns in the front window. “Sorry for cutting you off. I just got carried away.” Blushing, he seemed momentarily guilty, as if interrupting me was the gravest offence.

“Can we get a cinnamon bun? I’m hungry now.” I smiled, snapping him out of his embarrassment. “No need to apologise for interrupting. Cinnamon buns are serious business.” I stuck out my tongue playfully and tightened my grip on Brian’s hand, leading him toward the bakery.

It became evident that Brian and I were equally stubborn. Despite his greater wealth, we playfully bickered over who would pay for the cinnamon buns we eventually bought. I emerged as the victor (or loser, depending on your perspective)—I ended up paying. As we continued our journey back to my and Emma’s flat, I couldn’t resist the temptation and licked some icing off my finger, relishing the sweet taste.

“I’m so glad I can actually eat this,” I sighed with relief, gazing at the pastry in my hands.

Brian looked at me quizzically. “What do you mean?”

I explained, a hint of vulnerability in my voice. “Well, I’ve always had a fear of eating in public or in front of people. I think it stems from high school. I was slower at eating than my friends, and it was embarrassing when the teachers told them to leave the cafeteria at lunch time because they were finished. I’d be left alone, so then my mind would convince me that people were watching me eat and judging me. You know I’ve always been insecure about my weight, and I still am. I can’t eat in front of strangers. If I do eat in front of something, it means they’re someone I trust.”

Brian’s expression softened. “Oh… That’s good to know, Ria. You never need to feel insecure around me. I’ve said it many times before, and I’ll say it again until I’m blue in the face: I think you are the most amazing and gorgeous person in the world, and that won’t change.”

I rolled my eyes, using humour as a shield against compliments. Brian knew me well enough not to take offence. He simply laughed, revealing his perfect smile, and took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Besides…” I continued, a small smile on my face. “If I don’t eat soon, I’ll probably throw up. Hangovers are not kind to me.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Brian replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I found that out the day I met you. Remember when you got sick in the bin in your lecture room?”

I pouted, looking up at him and mustering my best puppy eyes. “I hate you for bringing that up.”

“You don’t hate me; you love me,” he teased, poking his hand into my side, causing me to squirm. Apologising to the pedestrians I accidentally bumped into, we couldn’t contain our laughter.

“Yes, I do love you, and that’s why I forgive you for teasing me like that.”

He chuckled, leaning in to shower my face with playful, messy kisses. After our laughter subsided, we resumed holding hands, our bakery treats in the other. “So, what were you saying before, love? You were going to ask me something.”

“Oh, um…” I licked my lips, savouring the sweet cinnamon on them. “Have you noticed anything off with Emma lately?”

Brian raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of his treat. “Besides the fact that she isn’t the nicest person?”

“She’s going through a lot, you know, with her drinking problem and all. But aside from how she’s been acting with me, she disappeared to the bathroom last night for like half an hour and came back completely out of it. Do you think she’s being doing something dangerous?”

Momentarily shocked, Brian’s eyebrows rose, and he looked ahead, pouting his lips—the expression he made when deep in thought. “I won’t lie to you. I don’t really pay much attention to what Emma does. I’m polite to her and only interact when necessary. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend and my girlfriend’s best friend. You know I don’t like arguments or getting involved…”

“Maybe I’m overthinking things. With everything going on, my brain has been all over the place. I’ve lost touch with reality a bit. Now that exam season is over, I just have coursework left to finish, and it’s… I can’t even distract myself with that because of how stressful it is to please everyone who needs to be pleased.” I rambled, realising my own scattered thoughts. Frustrated, I huffed, shook my head, and took a bite of my cinnamon bun.

“That’s why your head is all over the place,” Brian said, looking at me with concern. “You spend so much time worrying about everyone else and making sure they’re okay. Sometimes, you forget to take care of yourself, Maria, and I’m not letting that happen anymore.” His scolding tone was laced with playfulness, but the cheeky wink he sent my way caught me off guard, making me blush. He chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close as we walked. “Seriously though, I just want you to be safe and happy. And if there’s any way that I can help make that a reality, I’m right there with you, sweetheart.”

I didn’t say much more about the matter. We continued walking for a few more minutes until Imperial College came into view. I grimaced mentally as reality set back in. “Isn’t it weird?” I asked my boyfriend.

“What’s weird?” he inquired.

“Seeing the university when you come to visit me? After leaving?”

“Well, I haven’t completely left yet,” Brian explained. “I still need to complete a certain percentage of my thesis before putting it on hiatus. Otherwise, they might reject it, and I’d have to start from scratch when I decide to return. I won’t be attending as much as I used to, especially with the practical elements of the course, but I’ll still be around for the occasional theory lesson.”

“Though I’ve been indulging in personal learning, it seems like I won’t be needing to go to university as much,” Brian explained, his words seeping into my foggy hangover and the lingering soreness had left between my legs from the night before. I nodded slowly, trying to process everything. “Oh,” was all I managed to say. “When do you think you’ll be done?”

“I think I’ll wait until everyone leaves in June. No point in causing unnecessary paperwork and hassle. Plus, it means more chances of seeing you in your element,” he replied playfully.

“My element being discussing John Reid for five-thousand words?” I asked, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Precisely.”

The rest of our journey was filled with playful banter and deep conversations. We talked about silly things like claiming ownership of stars, why the moon landing was a monumental experience for him, reminiscing about the time we rescued a hedgehog from the rain, and even my tendency to get nervous over the smallest things. That was one of the things I loved most about being with Brian: we could talk for hours and never run out of things to say. Unlike with others, our conversations never dipped into awkwardness. It was as sure sign that we were soulmates.

When we arrived back at the flat, we both agreed that Brian should stay for a while before heading back to Sinclair Road. Time with him was always well spent. He followed closely behind me as we navigated the narrow hallway on our floor, leading to mine and Emma’s flat.

“Please excuse the state of the flat,” I said, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. However, my attention was instantly drawn to a sealed envelope in the doorway. I picked it up, examining the address written on the front. It was a letter addressed to me. Holding onto it, we entered the flat. As we took a few steps, a faint smell of the red wine spilled on the kitchen floor the day before reached our noses. Emma had made an effort to clean it up, but the stain and its accompanying odour remained. “Obviously, we didn’t have time to tidy up everything since our argument yesterday,” I explained, feeling a sense of deflation in my tone as I recounted the evens of the previous day.

Brian closed the door behind us as I surveyed the mess Emma had made. I threw my jacket onto the sofa and stood with my arms crossed, facing the messy kitchen. If Brian had responded to my previous words, I wouldn’t have heard them. “That girl is really pushing her luck. I swear.”

A soft chuckle reached my ears, but instead of standing awkwardly as he usually did, Brian strode over to the cupboard above the kitchen counter. He pulled out a couple of sponges and a stain remover, placing his own coat and scarf on the empty clothes horse. Then, he turned around, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.

“What are you doing?” I asked, a laugh escaping me along with a hint of confusion.

“I’m going to try and get this stain out for you, so you don’t have to worry about it,” he replied with a gentle smile.

My heart fluttered at his gesture. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, but it’s my flat. It’s not fair for me to make you do the cleaning.” I shook my head, walking toward him, but he extended his hand to stop me. “Brian—”

“Don’t ‘Brian’ me. You go and do what you need to do, and I’ll take care of this,” he insisted playfully, determination shining in his eyes.

“Um, I will ‘Brian’ you, Brian. Let me do it,” I insisted, grabbing the box of stain remover.

He lunged forward to snatch the box from me, but I clung onto it tightly. In retaliation, he jabbed his fingers into my sides, tickling me relentlessly. It was impossible to resist his playful attack, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. My grip on the box weakened, and he took advantage of the moment to snatch it away, holding it triumphantly above his head. I tried my best to grab it back, reaching up on my tiptoes and even resorting to jumping, but my boyfriend was too tall and smugly confident. There was no way I was getting that box of stain remover back from his hands.

“Stop being so stubborn, May,” I chuckled.

“You’re the stubborn one here, Brennan. By the way, your Yorkshire accent really comes out when you’re riled up,” he teased, unable to hide his amusement as I realised my defeat.

“Yeah, well… That’s not the only Yorkshire part of me, you know…” I trailed off, playfully walking away from Brian and his newfound domestic duties. “We can throw punches, Hampton-boy.”

“Why don’t you save that energy for another time, sweetheart?”

I turned around, giving my boyfriend a playful glare. He was now on his knees, diligently working on the stain. I chose not to respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction of winning this battle, even though deep down, I was a sore loser.

“Good girl,” he said, almost under his breath.

I almost missed his last comment, but it echoed in my mind as I straightened up the rest of the flat. It played on repeat, distracting me from everything else. Perhaps Brian’s budding dominance in our everyday lives was a good thing in the long run.

By the time I finished replacing the sheets and pillowcases in the bedroom, I found Brian lounging on the sofa, his head leaning back and lost in thought.

“So, did you manage to get the stain out?” I asked, curiosity brimming in my voice.

“Mhm,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Was it easier than you expected?”

“Mhm.”

“And did I do a good job with the rest of the flat?”

“Mhm.”

“… Are you secretly gay?” I couldn’t resist the playful tease, a mischievous smile spreading across my face.

“Mhm—Wait, no!” Brian’s head snapped forward, his eyebrows furrowing in panic. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his bewildered expression.

“Oh, don’t worry, Poodle. Your secret’s safe with me,” I joked, playfully patting his arm.

“Shut up…” he chuckled, shaking his head with a small smile. “You did an amazing job with the flat. Though, I feel like the sofa is missing something.”

“What?” I asked, curious about his train of thought.

Before I could process it, I was suddenly pulled onto the sofa, nestled comfortably underneath Brian’s arm. I giggled uncontrollably at his giddy excitement. “Ah, that’s better,” he sighed, resting his head against my neck, creating a cosy little haven on the sofa.

After a while of snuggling together, my fingers delicately running through the soft curls on Brian’s head, I spoke softly, almost whispering, “How’s the album coming along?”

“Really good, I think,” he replied, his voice muffled against my skin, meant for my ears alone.

“You think?” I asked, gently probing for more.

“I’m sure it’ll all be okay in the end. You know me, I get nervous,” he confessed.

“Hey…” I lifted his head and cupped his face in my hands, admiring his true beauty before speaking. “You have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, babes. If the rest of the album is as amazing as what I’ve already heard, and I’m certain it is, you’ll be more than alright. In fact, I know people will look back on 1973 as the year Queen released their ground-breaking debut album. You’re leaving your mark on history with the boys, and you know that. Don’t let self-doubt cloud your mind. You’re doing more than fine just the way you are, my love.” I affectionately stroked my thumb over the slight stubble on his chin, savouring the touch (he hadn’t shaved that morning).

Brian didn’t need to question or say much more because he knew I was right.

“Do you love me?” he asked, catching me off guard. He had never seemed so uncertain about my love and affection before.

“Well… The short answer is yes, I do love you. And the long answer is: Yes, I really, really, really, really, really, really do love you,” I replied, trying to add a touch of playfulness to ease his worries.

“I believe you, and I love you too, but that sarcasm was unnecessary,” he chuckled.

“Once again, I am a Yorkshire lass,” I teased.

“Yeah, my Yorkshire lass,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and adoration.

I couldn’t help but giggle, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose. “Yep… Your Yorkshire lass.”

April 1973

Brian

I let out an exasperated huff, my eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror as I navigated the streets of Kensington. “You’re an idiot,” I muttered under my breath, frustration evident in my voice.

In the backseat, Roger rolled his eyes, lazily draping his arm across the seat. “Why did you have to bring Deacy with you?” he complained.

“Because, Roger, I didn’t know the way,” I retorted, my fatigue making my patience wear thin. “You’re the one giving me money for petrol, and I didn’t plan on driving all the way to Hammersmith to pick you up.” My heavy eyelids served as a reminder of the sleep I’d been deprived of. “Meanwhile, we’ve left the others alone with vodka, and I have a sinking feeling they won’t be exactly sober when we return.”

“Calm ya’ knickers, mate. Christ, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.” Roger let out an exasperated sigh and glanced out of the window. He was one of my closest friends, but at that moment, I wouldn’t have minded stopping the car and knocking some sense into him. How could he not see the gravity of his actions?

“Seriously?” I shot him a glare, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “John, I swear to God… Talk to him, or I’ll unleash my fury.”

John obliged, sighing as he turned in his seat. “Roger, we’re in the middle of recording an album. Did you forget that while you were gallivanting around Hammersmith for who knows what reason? Who do you even know in Hammersmith?” There was a tense silence as Roger stubbornly refused to answer. I strained my ears to catch every word. The silence was unnerving. John had a point. Why was Roger even in Hammersmith, causing us to leave the studio and fetch him so he could join us in recording our album? John sighed once more. “Stop being so damn pathetic and just answer the question. It’s not that difficult.” Still no response. “Roger, why were you in Hammersmith?”

“I was seeing a friend, alright?” Roger finally muttered, avoiding eye contact with Deacy. I swear, in that moment, I wanted to crash the car out of sheer frustration. It was rare for anyone to push my buttons like this, but with the exhaustion, the album stress, and Roger’s stubborn refusal to communicate like a rational human being, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation building within me.

“Roger Meddows Taylor, if you don’t tell us what you were doing in the next ten seconds, I’ll pull this car over and knock some sense into you,” I warned, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. This time, he actually looked at me, taken aback by the intensity in my voice.

“Patty lives in Hammersmith,” Roger blurted out, breaking the tense silence in the car. I couldn’t decipher my reaction—whether it was surprise, disgust, or simply being taken aback. It wasn’t even my place to worry or fuss over it, but damn, I thought that ship had sailed. However, I kept my mouth shut because I knew he despised it when I ignored him or failed to acknowledge his words. But let me tell you, I was in no mood to give a fuck about that.

“Well, congratulations, you really are an idiot,” John chimed in unexpectedly, turning in his seat to face the road ahead. We were entering Soho, which meant our journey back to Trident wouldn’t be much longer. I pushed the car to its maximum speed, eager to return as quickly as possible. The thought of seeing Maria and Red provided a sense of relief, and I reminded myself that all the pent-up frustrations could be channelled through music. That’s what I did and what I was going to do.

“You need to stop, Rog. You have a girlfriend and a commitment,” I finally voiced some of my thoughts without causing harm. Roger ran his hands over his flushed face and replied, “I know, and I feel terrible. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Trying isn’t good enough; you just have to stop,” John emphasised. “You can’t hurt Emma again.”

“She wouldn’t have been hurt the first time if you had just kept your mouth shut, Deacy,” Roger retorted, his frustration evident.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t keep it in your trousers,” John shot back.

“Ladies let’s not fight. We have an album to record,” I interjected with a sigh, attempting to diffuse the tension. “Let’s just… forget about it for now. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake,” I added before Roger could interject and thank me. “But Fred said he has something to show us, and I don’t think dwelling on this drama will help us progress in any way. Roger, calm down, and John… just don’t provoke him,” I scolded, feeling like I was dealing with unruly children—an unexpected job I had not signed up for.

The remainder of the car journey passed relatively quietly, with only sporadic small talk. We pointed out new road signs, observed the renovations at the Roman Review Bar, and noted the charity workers lining the streets, clutching buckets and leaflets that most people would ignore.

I pulled into the Trident car park and switched off the ignition with a sigh, clearing my throat. “Remember, no more funny business or arguing once we’re inside. I can’t be bothered with any more crap today,” I grumbled the last part, sliding out of the car and stuffing the keys into my pocket. I heard the others muttering to each other as I didn’t wait for them to exit the vehicle and instead started walking towards the reception.

Upon entering, I gave a nod to the receptionist, hoping to avoid any small talk. However, she held up her hand and called me back just as I was about to pass by. I bit down on both my lips and reluctantly turned around, forcing a polite smile. “Yes?”

“You’re in studio D, aren’t you?” she asked, pointing at me with her pen.

“Yeah, why?” I replied, a hint of curiosity in my voice.

“Oh, right. I walked past about five minutes ago, and I heard a female singing. It caught me off guard, and I got a bit confused. Sorry, my apologies. Have a nice day, Brian,” she explained, retracting her pen.

I furrowed my brows and nodded slowly, with John and Roger finally catching up to me. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“What was that all about?” Roger asked, looking just as puzzled. I shrugged my shoulders and hummed in a tone that conveyed my lack of understanding. But the receptionist’s words rang true as we approached studio D—the sound of a female voice singing became more distinct. It was muffled by the door and walls, but the tone and control were palpable, even in the lower frequencies.

“He bad production, he got walrus gumboot, he got Ono sideboard, he got spinal cracker…��

The voice was filled with attitude and emotion as we approached the studio door. When I opened it, there was Maria, my Maria, in the live room by the piano, singing “Come Together” with power, while Freddie played the keys. They seemed oblivious to our presence as the three of us walked in and closed the doors. We gave them a few more moments to perform for us, so to speak. My eyes were fixed on Maria, observing the confidence that I had only witnessed in private now pouring out through her beautiful voice. Was this what she had been hiding from me? I couldn’t help but slowly grin as she tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song and flipped her hair to the side, letting her thick dark brown locks cascade down her back and sides. Her backside, accentuated by the jeans I adored on her, looked stunning. This was the Maria that I wanted her to be—the real her that she had been too afraid to show.

I wasn’t completely oblivious to the fact that Maria and Freddie had a few drinks while we were gone, but you know what they say about Dutch courage.

Roger sat down next to Emma, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. She looked miserable, as usual. She turned to him and spoke loudly enough for all of us to hear, “They’ve been at it for ages, Roggie. I’ve been sitting here alone, listening to them go on and on.”

“Sorry, love. I had to see a friend about some old textbooks,” Roger replied.

I rolled my eyes at their sickening conversation, returning to my previous demeanor. When I glanced back at Freddie and Maria, they had noticed us, and Maria had her hands partially covering her face. If I were in a better mood, I would have walked into the live room, taken my girlfriend in my arms, and told her how perfect she was. But that wasn’t going to happen. My frustrations got the better of me, clouding my feelings towards Maria. She hurriedly shuffled into the control room, clearly flustered and embarrassed. However, when I saw her up close, with her flushed face and innocent eyes, I couldn’t help but pour my heart out to her. How could I not?

As Freddie engaged in conversation with the producer and Deacy, I took Maria’s hands and led her out into the hallway. I needed some alone time with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing that well?” I asked, holding one of her smaller hands in mine, squeezing it for comfort. I brought my other hand up to her hair, tucking a soft strand behind her ear. My fingertips traced her skin as my palm caressed her cheek.

She leaned into my touch for a moment, a small smile gracing her perfect face.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged shyly. “I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“You’re silly, love. Thousands of people would pay good money to hear someone with your voice stand on a stage and sing to them for two hours,” I said, forcing a larger smile than I could naturally manage at the moment. However, Maria saw right through me. There was a heavy silence filled with concern as she analyzed my features, her eyebrows scrunching up in a relaxed manner.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was soft yet laced with worry.

I swallowed thickly, looking up and focusing on anything other than her eyes, hoping to distract myself. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Bollocks,” she retorted almost immediately.

“Ria, I just… I’m stressed. About the album, about university, about everything. It all seems too good to be true,” I confessed, still avoiding direct eye contact with my girlfriend. But she reached up and caressed my jaw with her hand, guiding my head downward until I had no choice but to meet her gaze. I leaned into her touch, and she stepped closer to me. It was an incredibly intimate embrace.

“It’s okay… You’ll be okay. I’ve told you this already. You need to stop worrying, Bri. You’re amazing. You know me, I could praise Queen metaphorically for hours because of how much I believe in you, but you have to start believing in yourself, sweetheart,” she said, her thumb stroking over my bottom lip. I couldn’t help but let my eyes flutter shut at her gentle touch. In that moment, I was completely enveloped by her presence, her voice (a refreshing change from the usual Southern accents I heard daily).

“I think it’s the album. It’s been consuming my thoughts constantly,” I confessed, gazing down at Maria with a mixture of longing and vulnerability. With a deep breath, I cradled her face in my hands, our foreheads touching as if merging our souls in that intimate space. “I’ve been off all day, snapping at everyone around me. But seeing you has calmed me down, if only for a moment,” I whispered, my voice dropping to a hushed tone. Her face lit up, and in that instant, my stomach erupted in a glorious symphony of butterflies. “God, you’re breathtaking,” I murmured against her face, feeling the tingling sweetness of her bubble-mint-scented breath.

Her cheeks blushed bright red, and she playfully hid her face in my shoulder, giggling with a delightful airy sound. I couldn’t help but laugh at her endearing shyness, pulling her into a tight embrace and resting my chin on her head. We lingered there, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the silent connection we shared. It was a few minutes of pure bliss, a respite from the world around us.

But our moment of tranquility was abruptly interrupted when Maria pulled away, her expression occupied and passive. “I should probably tell someone…”

My brows furrowed, and I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall comfortably. “Tell somebody what? You know you can tell me anything, love,” I reassured her, sensing the weight of her unspoken words.

With a shaky voice, she leaned her head back against the wall, her gaze wandering upwards. “You remember the letter I received when you last came to the flat?” she asked, her words quivering with uncertainty. I nodded, my curiosity piqued. “It was from my mum.”

My initial response was one of casual reassurance. “Oh, that’s nice of her. Is she okay—”

But Maria’s words cut through my attempt at comfort, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity I hadn’t witnessed before. “No, you don’t understand,” she insisted, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and urgency. “My mum never writes letters unless it’s something life-changing important.”

A chill ran down my spine, and I saw the genuine fear etched on her face. I had witnessed Maria in various emotional states—anxiety, laughter, love, sadness, determination—but this was the first time I saw her truly scared. Her vulnerability tore at my heart.

“She didn’t provide many details. Just told me not to call her for a while, and she’ll ring me when ‘it’s time,’” Maria explained, her words tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s unlike her to be so frantic and vague. Now, I’m left waiting for a phone call, no idea what this important thing is. It’s just another thing to get stressed about,” she confessed, tears welling up in her eyes. “Why can’t things be easy for once?”

At that moment, I realised the depth of Maria’s struggles and the significance of mental health. She had taught me the importance of understanding and acknowledging the complexities within a person’s mind, regardless of how their life appeared on the surface. Before meeting Maria, I had been ignorant of the battles she fought silently.

Though I longed to pull her into a comforting embrace and promise that everything would be okay, the truth was, neither of us knew what the future held. We were enlightened and yet unenlightened, aware of the significance of mental health but uncertain of the challenges ahead.

With a heavy but determined heart, I expressed my love for her, feeling the weight of our connection in those three simple words.

She reciprocated, and together, we made our way back inside the studio.

Freddie’s voice chimed from the mixing desk, interrupting our thoughts. “Oh, darlings! I was just about to come and get you,” he announced, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve managed to finagle some extra studio time and worked on a little diddy without your knowledge.”

Excitement stirred within me as I joined Maria by the amps, while Roger and Emma sat alert on the sofa, and John and Freddie occupied the mixing desk with our producer. We all listened attentively as Freddie unleashed his masterpiece—a rough, yet enchanting composition. The opening piano riff was playful and infectious, leading into imaginative chords played with impeccable rhythm. I marveled at Freddie’s ability to keep perfect time on the piano.

Freddie leaned back, folding his arms confidently. “Of course, darlings, I need each of you to add your own tricks and twists, but I believe we have something special in our hands.”

“It’s very different, Fred,” I nodded, genuinely impressed by the creative work he had put into this project. “Do you have a name for it yet?”

Freddie’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and he leaned forward, ready to share his secret.

“Lo and behold… The Seven Seas of Rhye.”

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legends-of-time · 9 months ago

Text

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 46: Mid to Late May 1925

Masterlist

TW: Blood

——

Emma had gone out with Tom and Mary on their morning walk for a brief while, to get some of her weekly exercise in before retreating to the house and letting them carry on. Tom's decided that they should do more with the repair shop, and put it at the edge of the estate for passing trade. Emma decided to leave them to it.

Once inside the Outer Hall, Emma turns to enter the Library through the Small Library and when she's at the entrance when she hears Robert and, more importantly, Violet talking.

"And I want him to come here. I want him to listen to our arguments against the York Hospital's plans." Violet is saying.

Emma freezes in her steps. God, what's Violet got planned now?

"Mama, what is the point?" Robert huffs.

"Don't be jejune. You know very well, one word from Westminster and the scheme would be abandoned." Violet retorts.

Not on Emma's watch, nor Isobel's, Cora's or Lord Merton's.

"But why would he say the word, and why would he ever come to Downton?"

"You know, Neville Chamberlain's wife was born Anne de Vere Cole. Guess who was her godfather."

Neville Chamberlain?!

"You guess for me." Robert huffs.

"Your late papa, the sixth Earl of Grantham." Violet explains. "He and her father served in the Crimea together when they were young. I have known her since she was born."

This woman has far too many cards up her sleeve.

"I admit I am quite interested, but when it comes to getting him here, I would say you have no more chance than a cat in hell without claws."

"We'll see."

Emma can easily imagine the smug look the Dowager's face and the resigned one on Robert's.

——

Emma sits in the Drawing room with Mary, Robert, Edith, Cora and Tom for lunch. Billy is at work.

"I nearly forgot. That chap, Henry..." Robert is saying to Mary.

"Talbot?" Mary prompts.

Robert nods. "Exactly. Yes, he telephoned while you were out. He's going to be in Yorkshire on Wednesday to look at a car, and he wants you to watch him doing it."

He what now?

"To watch him looking at a car?" Mary asks with a frown. She doesn't seem that interested.

"Well, not quite. He's driving it round some track nearby. At Catterick." Robert explains though he seems to not get it himself.

"Testing it. Seeing how it handles." Tom further explains. "I could take you, if you like."

"Would you?" Mary questions.

"Well, I'd like to see it." Tom says eagerly, which causes Emma to smile at his excitement. Her husband turns to Edith. "How about you?"

"I'll be in London on Wednesday." Edith says.

"Edith has a date." Robert grins.

Emma perks up. "She what?" She asks eagerly.

"No, I don't." Edith placates.

Emma pouts.

"Of course not." Mary comments.

"What do you mean, "Of course not"?"

Cora quickly changes the subject. "Doctor Clarkson seems to be coming round. Isobel's bringing him for a drink tonight with Dickie Merton."

"So, that's why Mama paid her visit." Robert comments.

"When? What did she want?" Cora immediately questions.

"Yeah, apparently she's going to convince Neville Chamberlain to dine here." Emma answers. "She plans to convince him to support her, stop the new plans."

Robert looks at her completely baffled. "How do you know about that?"

Emma shrugs. "I have my ways."

Tom gives her a pointed glance, one he gives her when he realises her future knowledge is at play.

"Anyway, yes, he's coming north." Robert mutters.

"If he's on a tour, it'll be far too late to alter his schedule." Cora says.

"That's what I said, but she seems to think she can persuade him."

"Is it wrong to hope she's mistaken?"

Robert sighs.

——

Later on, in the Drawing room, Robert welcomes Isobel, Lord Merton and Dr Clarkson. Cora and Emma are seated on the settees.

"I'm glad to see you here again, Dickie."

"Well, it's very good to be here, but it's only about the row, I'm afraid." Lord Merton says. Poor man, probably holding out hope that Isobel will come around.

"Oh, never mind that." Isobel quickly comments. "We've brought Doctor Clarkson with us because there's something that you, or at any rate, Cora, will want to hear."

"Do I detect that you're changing sides?" Robert questions the Doctor who looks mildly uncomfortable with being here.

"Er, maybe." Comes the awkward reply.

"Have you told my mother?"

"Of course not, he has some survival instincts." Emma scoffs as the others take their seats. While she's glad Dr Clarkson is seeing the light of day when it comes to the Hospital, does not mean she won't let the fact that he was against the scheme in the first place go so easily.

"Poor man. If he's changing his mind, don't let's put him off." Cora says.

"Oh, that reminds me. I have a message from her. She says that the Health Minister is happy to dine here this Friday." Isobel tells them.

"What?" Emma asks. "How did she manage that?"

"She must have found a way to blackmail him." Robert says.

"You don't mean that." Cora utters, aghast.

"I wouldn't put it past her."

"If she's convinced him to come here, she can make him condemn the scheme." Emma says worriedly.

"Well, she mustn't." Cora says, looking at Emma, Isobel, Lord Merton and Dr Clarkson specifically. "And I want the four of you here to support me."

"Aye aye, Captain." Isobel declares.

Emma nods determinedly. "I echo that."

Dr Clarkson and Lord Merton exchange a look, not enthusiastic at all.

——

Edith goes down to London on the Wednesday to not only go on a supposed not-date with Bertie Pelham but also do interviews for her new editor. Interviews with women, which Emma is quite pleased about.

Mary and Tom, before they run off to Catterick to watch Henry Talbot test his car, also go to check up on Mr Mason who's moving into the Drewes' farm today to see if he can cope with the pigs. Emma's surprised to hear that Andy is apparently eager to help out on that front.

The report back on Mary and Henry Talbot lacks surety on Mary's side. Tom says it's Mary's worry of marrying a man of lower standing but Emma thinks it's also to do with the fact that Henry Talbot is massively into cars, particularly driving them fast, which is not good considering how Matthew died. Still, there seems to be some level of flirtation.

Neville Chamberlain's office rings to confirm that he is dining at Downton on Friday. It's a wonder how Violet managed that but in the end, will likely prove to be an interesting evening.

——

It's the day of Neville Chamberain's visit to Downton. Emma has been getting battle-ready but in the meantime, she has also been planning her eldest child's birthday party as she turns five in a couple of days. Hopefully, this dinner won't cause too much strain between family members enough that they won't be able to put it aside for Ivy.

That evening, attended by Mr Carson and Andy, the dinner guests assemble in the Library ahead of dinner for pre-dinner drinks, the men dressed very formally in white tie.

Emma gathers with Tom, Billy, Edith and Mary while Cora talks with Lord Merton and Dr Clarkson. Robert approaches Violet and Isobel as they enter. Chamberlain has not arrived quite yet.

Edith is reporting on how her trip to London went. "I found my editor."

"And had some fun, too, I hope." Billy remarks pointedly with a slight smirk. Emma nudges him slightly with an amused smile on her face.

Edith shakes her head at them before saying, "I went dancing at the Café de Paris, which felt very young and gay."

Emma presses her lips together in amusement. The sisters and Billy seem to not have noticed while Tom gives her a knowing glance, having clocked on that her future knowledge is at play.

"And we saw Henry Talbot try out a racing car. So, now we're all members of the Bright Young Things." Tom remarks.

"I don't know about "bright."" Mary says dismissively.

"Well, what I do know is that I languished at home heavily pregnant." Emma complains though she doesn't really mean it, if anything she's grateful to have a break before the big dinner.

"And doing a marvellous job at it if I say so myself." Tom compliments, kissing her cheek. Emma has a pleased smile on her face.

"You have to." Billy retorts causing them all to laugh.

Mr Molesley comes in and holds the door open for the guest of honour. Mr Carson announces him. "The Right Honourable Neville Chamberlain, Minister for Health."

Neville Chamberlain enters, looking exactly like he does in historic photographs. Emma observes the future prime minister closely as Robert and Cora go to meet him.

"So," Tom murmurs, "do you know anything about this one?"

"Future PM, late 1930s, but not for very long." Emma murmurs back.

"Was he not successful then?"

"Depends on who you ask."

Emma watches how Violet walks up to her son, daughter-in-law and the minister, talking to him before dragging him further into the room. Emma's got to give it to Violet, she moves quickly for a woman her age. Isobel also soon slides in.

"It's a great honour. I gather you're here to discuss the new plans for managing our health." Isobel's direct approach rather alarms the rest of the family.

"I think you may need to rescue him," Emma murmurs to Tom as they inch closer, Andy with the drinks tray at their shoulder.

"Well, I know I'm here to discuss a topic Lady Grantham is interested in." Chamberlain tactfully replies.

"Excuse me, would you care for one of these?" Tom calls, referring to the drinks.

Chamberlain sketches a bow to the two ladies and walks over to Tom and Emma. "Thank you." He takes one of the drinks Andy is offering.

"I thought you needed rescuing. Our own scrapes are bad enough without being dragged into other people's." Tom remarks.

"How well you understand me."

Lord Merton joins them. "I'm afraid you're in for some rigorous debate."

"I wish I weren't." He looks like a man ready for the slaughter.

"Forewarned is for armed?" Emma tries. She receives a small smile.

Cora comes up behind them. "Shall we go in? We don't want to wear the minister out before he's even had a chance to sit down."

Emma feels the baby give a kick. She wonders if the baby is as anxious as she is. She can't but feel like this will end terribly.

——

The dinner has begun and Violet wastes no time in pontificating about the plans for the Hospital. Chamberlain, in the place of honour on Cora's right, listens with the expression of a martyr. Mr Carson walks around with the decanter. Thomas, Mr Molesley and Andy are in attendance, too.

"The system has worked well here for a hundred years! Why must we destroy everything in our path simply for the sake of change?" Violet cries.

"I'm not sure that's a true representation of the case." Dr Clarkson argues.

"Exactly. There are many benefits to be had from the plan." Isobel says.

"But benefits for whom?" Violet counters.

"Everyone apart from you it seems." Emma retorts irritably. It's probably a good thing that Tom sits between her and Violet because this woman is truly driving her up the wall.

"Goodness. I thought I was here to be lectured by a united group, not to witness a battle royal." Chamberlain comments.

Cora seems very unhappy. Mary, Billy and Tom exchange uncomfortable looks.

"Oh! Don't you enjoy a good fight?" Violet says. Emma can't help but feel like that remark is very pointed.

"I'm not sure I do, really." Chamberlain counters calmly.

"My mother-in-law has a certain myopia when it comes to anyone else's point of view." Cora says tiredly.

"On the contrary, I have a clarity of vision that allows me to resist a housemaid's trap of sentimentality." Violet snips.

Emma opens her mouth to speak, to back Cora but her eyes catch on Robert, who she realises is looking ill, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Your enthusiasm is getting the better of your manners." Isobel tries.

"Ha!" Violet cries indignantly.

"Can't we stop this beastly row?" Emma can see Robert's genuinely suffering.

"How I wish we could." Cora says.

"Uh, maybe he's right?" Emma suggests worriedly. The whole argument isn't exactly important anymore.

"Yes, I... I, erm—" Robert gasps. Emma looks at him in alarm. He rises clumsily from his chair, his hand pressed to his stomach. "I'm so sorry, I..."

He leans back and vomits an impressive spurt of blood right across the table. Everyone gasps in horror. Tom jumps to his feet, quickly pulling Emma away. Another spurt, so violent that it spatters Cora's face. The men are all on their feet now. Robert collapses into Thomas' arms and is lowered to the floor.

"Thomas, on his left side!" Dr Clarkson cries, racing around the table to assist Robert. They roll Robert over to lie on his left side. Cora quickly joins them, cradling her husband's head.

"Give me napkins!" Isobel yells, collecting them from the table.

Mary quickly throws more towards her before joining Tom at Emma's side. It's then that Emma realises that she's shaking violently and she's crying as tears blur her vision.

"Emma, are you alright? The baby?" Her husband asks her frantically.

Mr Carson runs from the room, declaring he'll call for the ambulance and Lord Merton puts his coat on Robert to keep him warm.

Emma gulps and shakily nods her head. "I'm fine. Y-you need to prioritise Robert."

"What is it?" Violet asks, leaning over her son, reaching out as if to try and do something.

"His ulcer has burst." Dr Clarkson explains professionally.

"What?" Mary asks, aghast.

"Will he be all right?" Edith questions, close to tears. Billy wraps his arm around her shoulders, almost keeping her upright.

"We must get him to Hospital as quickly as we can." Dr Clarkson replies.

Cora is catching the blood he's still vomiting in a napkin. "I'm here, darling, don't worry, I'm here."

"If this is it, just know I have loved you very, very much." Robert says in between painful gasps.

Emma lets out a sob clutching onto Tom.

"This isn't it, darling. We won't let this be it." Cora says determinedly.

"Some water?" Violet suggests. She looks as if her whole world has fallen apart and maybe it has. Isobel puts her hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"No! No water. Just keep him steady until the ambulance arrives." Dr Clarkson orders.

Robert is still coughing and retching horribly. Everyone is looking on in horror.

——

Emma stands listlessly to the side as Anna, Andy and Miss Baxter help Violet, Mary, Edith and Cora into their coats and hand them their gloves. And before long, four aproned men come through the hall and into the Drawing room with a stretcher. All the while, Emma just stares at the drops of blood that have not been covered on Cora's dress.

Tom comes up beside her as Edith and Isobel exit the Dining room. Then, preceded by Dr Clarkson, the ambulance crew emerge, carrying Robert on the stretcher, covered in blood but conscious. Thomas brings up the rear.

"Maybe you should go to bed and rest." Tom suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

"Oh God, Tom." Emma quietly sobs. Tom simply wraps his arms around her, holding her.

She faintly hears Lord Merton say he'll take Isobel and Violet home, Violet asking Edith to call when there's news and finally, Cora and her daughters leaving to get into the car for the hospital.

She doesn't realise it but she's soon being tucked into bed. Tom climbs in after her, holding her from behind as she falls into a fitful sleep.

——

"Emma. Emma?" Someone's shaking her.

"Mmmh?" Emma blearily blinks her eyes and sees her husband leaning over her.

"Mary called from the Hospital."

Emma sits up as quickly as she can with her large stomach. "And?"

"He's going to be alright." Tom tells her, a smile smile playing on his lips.

Emma almost collapses in relief. "Thank God." She wraps him in a tight hug.

She can't imagine if they had lost him. Weirdly, Robert has become a sort of father figure for her and she can't imagine losing him.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#downton abbey

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