#anyways bottom line i am excited to treat someone like a princess but also so very deeply Scared

[zebracakesarecopingmechanisms]

new fears just dropped!

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

chapter 4

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

“Would you stay with me?” You asked timidly, assuming the answer would be a definite no.

“Of course.” Peter nodded, making you recall the time your dad told you he would surprise you. Peter sat down next to you, giving you your space but still close enough to comfort you. You heard him chuckle after a beat of silence and looked at him curiously.

“You know, that’s the first time you ever called me Peter.” He commented, looking at you with a half smile.

“I’ve called you Peter before.” You insisted in your hoarse voice.

“No. I would’ve remembered if you did.” He chuckled. “You always call me Parker.”

“Oh. I guess I do.” You realized as Peter reached forward and wiped your tear with his thumb. You held eye contact with his and he dragged his thumb down your cheek, letting his warmth assuage your pain.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, giving him a weak smile.

“No problem.” Peter said sincerely. “This is the longest we’ve been in a room together without yelled at each other. It’s also the closest you’ve ever let me near you.”

“Sorry.” You said as you got ready to move. “I can move over-“

“No, it’s okay.” Peter stopped you by placing a hand on your arm. “I want you close.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to hide how happy his sentence made you. Despite how awful you treated him, he was always kind to you. Usually his generosity made you even angrier, but you didn’t have the strength to hate him tonight.

“You shouldn’t be nice to me. I’ve never been nice to you.” You shook your head and look down at the box of tissues in shame.

“I believe in treating people how you’d like to be treated. You’re also letting me be nice to you, which is a nice change.” Peter cracked a smile as he brushed your wilting curls out of your face. You leaned into his hand for a moment, closing your eyes as you finally felt peace.

“I don’t hate you.” You said suddenly, making Peter raise his eyebrows. “You said I hated you before. I don’t, really. I’m sorry I made you think I did.”

“I’m sorry too. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I didn’t even want to move in. Mr. Stark insisted, he thought I’d be able to keep you company.” Peter laughed slightly, feeling the irony of his statement.

“Then why did you?” You wondered. You always thought it had been Peters idea to move in as a way to reap the full benefits of being an Avenger, but it turned out you were wrong.

“My aunt just got this job at a charity and she absolutely loves it, it just takes up all her time.” Peter explained. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy since my uncle passed and I didn’t want her to chose between her job and taking care of me, so I moved in here. I…I didn’t know Mr. Stark was gonna take me on all the missions and stuff.” Peter said softly. “I never meant to take your place.”

You opened your mouth and quickly shut it, feeling incredibly stupid and guilty for how you’d been treating him.

“I didn’t know that. Any of that, I didn’t...I didn’t know.” You said quietly as your eyes filled with regret.

“You and I don’t talk much.” Peter shrugged sadly. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him sympathetically in an entirely new light.

“You were right before, you know.” You told him. “I am jealous of you for being my dads favorite.”

“Y/n, I was just saying that.” Peter apologized. “That’s not how I really feel and it’s definitely not true.”

You looked straight ahead at your deep blue bedroom walls and let out a sigh, knowing the impending conversation wouldn’t be easy.

“He wanted a boy.” You said after a beat of silence, busying yourself with your fingernails so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“What?”

“When he adopted me. He wanted a boy.” You explained further, feeling a blush of embarrassment cover your face and neck.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Peter shook his head as he shifted a little closer.

“Yes it is.” You smiled sadly. “They did all these family matching events at my foster home when I was a kid and he would always stop by. I always saw him talking to the boys. He never signed any papers though, I think he was just browsing.” You chuckled, and Peter did too.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s difficult to talk about.” Peter said kindly as he rested a hand on your knee.

“I want to tell you so you can understand.” You insisted, feeling like this was your best shot at an apology.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I never got picked.” You came outright with it. “I would show up to these events in my best dress and biggest smile and watch all my friends get taken home by some family, even if it was just for a test run, but nobody ever picked me. It gets to you after a while.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Peter sympathetically squeezed your knee.

“No, it’s okay. If some other family had wanted me, I wouldn’t have ended up with my dad.”

“You’re really strong for being able to see the bright side of all this. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” Peter shook his head as he got a look into your history.

“I appreciate that.” You smiled softly at him, letting him know you were no longer upset.

“How did you end up with Mr. Stark?” Peter wondered.

“He came pretty late one day, after an event had been going on for a while. He had Pepper with him that time, I guess he finally convinced her to come. By the time he arrived, all the boys had already been taken, and I could just see the disappointment in his face. Then he made eye contact with me.” You smiled to yourself. “I had seen him there so many times, but this was the first time we interacted. I had on this fluffy pink princess dress to make myself look more presentable. He saw me and laughed.”

“Princess. That’s why he calls you princess.” Peter made the connection.

“So you’re not as dumb as I thought.” You teased him, playfully this time, as you nudged him. “He bent down in front of me and asked if I’d like to live in his castle for the week, and I said yes. After the week was up, he brought a suitcase to my foster home. He said my suitcase matched his because we were a family now. It was the first thing that had ever been mine, you know? Not a hand me down or anything. It was mine. Those suitcases are all worn out now, but we still use them for every mission. At least, we used to.”

“Thats why you were upset he threw his out. Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this. You never - - You don’t talk to me.” Peter’s voice was pained as he got the full picture of why the fight had upset you as much as you did.

“I know. And I’m sorry for that. I know this doesn’t justify why I treat you the way I do, but I hope it explains it a little.” You looked at him apologetically. “It’s dumb but I always saw those suitcases as a symbol of our family. And then he goes and throws them out to buy one for you. Not that I would need one anyway since he stopped bringing me on missions and I just, I don’t know, I felt replaced.”

“That’s not dumb.” Peter insisted. “Mr. Stark likes having me around but I could never replace you. You’re his daughter. I know he spends a lot of time with me but that doesn’t mean he wanted a boy.”

“That’s not the only thing, though.” You continued. “When I got to his house for the first time, before the tower was even built, he already had a room set up. Blue walls and little shirts with sports slogans on them told me what I already knew. He wanted a boy. He wanted you.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d ever wear a shirt with a sports slogan on it.” Peter slipped a joke in, making you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, well. You check all his other boxes.” You reminded him. “You’re smarter than me, better at technology than I am, and you’re a freaking superhero for crying out loud. I can’t do half the things you can and he knows it. And when you guys save the world together or build these amazing inventions, it’s like you’re rubbing in all the things I could never do with him. It just reminds me that you’re what he wanted.”

“So are you. He loves you.”

“I don’t doubt he loves me. I just doubt I’d be his first choice.” You shrugged sadly. “You and I are both orphans and if you hadn’t had your aunt and uncle to take care of you, you would’ve ended up in the same place as me. And if you had been there that day at the event…”

“You think Mr. Stark would’ve chosen me, not you.” Peter finished your sentence, and everything made sense to him at once.

“Yeah.” You whispered as tears filled your red rimmed eyes once again. “I’m sorry I don’t call you by your name. I’m sorry I’m mean to you and push you away. But you have to understand, you’re not someone I ever wanted to know. And when you say things like him preferring you, I believe you.”

“I never should’ve said that. I wish we had this conversation when I first moved in.” Peter sighed heavily. “I would’ve understood you so much better. And I…I wanted to understand you.”

“You did?” You jerked your head back in surprise at his statement.

“Yeah. It was kinda a bummer when I realized my mentors extremely beautiful and intelligent daughter hated me.” Peter chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He talked so highly of you, I wish you could’ve heard it. He’s this world famous billionaire inventor and superhero and his greatest accomplishment is his daughter. It made me really excited to meet you. And then…”

“And then I made your life hell.” You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you finished his sentence. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay. I still liked you, even if you were mean to me.” He smiled sheepishly. “I could tell you were funny and nice from when I heard you talking to other people. I just didn’t understand why you didn’t like me.”

“I feel like we could’ve been really good friends by now if I hadn’t been so quick to judge you.” You pouted as you looked at him. “I thought you were taking advantage of my dads money of something. You’re actually a really good guy. I should’ve listened the first 50 times me dad told me that.”

“We can still be friends. I think I’ll be around a while.” He teased your usual hatred of him being around as he bumped his shoulders against yours. You laughed as you moved together, feeling grateful for the second chance he was giving you. Something he had said clung to the back of your mind and in the name of being honest, you brought it up.

“Do you…do you really think I’m beautiful?” You asked curiously as you looked at him. A blush spread from Peters nose bridge all the way to the tips of his ears when he realized you caught his subtle compliment.

“Um, don’t you?” He shrugged, answering your question with a question to put the ball back in your court. Your lips twitched into a smile before you looked away, feeling flustered in place of your usual disdain.

“To answer your question from before, my date was lame.” You shrugged. “Harry was on his phone the whole time, something about fantasy football? I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. Rich people are like, super boring.”

“I thought you liked him? Last I heard, you wanted to be his girlfriend.” Peter couldn’t help from rolling his eyes as he spoke.

“Oof.” You clicked your tongue. “If you haven’t figured out by now that I played up my feelings for Harry to make you jealous, then maybe you’re not smarter than me.”

“You wanted to make me jealous?” Peter repeated for confirmation. “It worked, but why?”

“Do you want to know the number one thing that annoyed me about you?” You asked him, the fight a distant memory now.

“I don’t know. Do I?” Peter chuckled as he rested his head in his hands to look at you.

“No matter how much I disliked you,” you shook your head and shrugged slightly, “I always liked you more.”

“I thought you said you would never like me.” Peter recalled, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you moved closer to him, sitting on his thigh and resting your hand on his shoulder, “I guess I had a change of heart.”

“Well.” Peter looked up at you with a fire in his eyes. “What ever am I going to do about that?” He said slowly as he drummed his fingers on your leg.

“Yeah. What are you gonna do about it, Parker?” You brought back his old nickname to really push him.

“I have a few ideas, Princess.” Peter mumbled before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands immediately went to his hair, tugging it for all the times he made you stressfully tug at yours.

“You drive me crazy with all your eye rolling.” Peter said between kisses as he pushed you down on the bed. “Nobody is that annoyed all the time.”

“Every time I saw you in the lab I hoped you’d burn your hand on the benson burner.” You confessed as you trailed kisses on his jawline.

“I hate when you leave your cereal bowls out. Do you know how disgusting almond milk looks when it’s left out? Ugh it made me so mad.” Peter groaned as he pinned you to the bed.

“I hate when you’re in the kitchen when I’m baking. You’re so annoying.” You whined, tilting your head up to kiss him.

“You’re so annoying.” He shot back as he pulled you closer.

“I cannot stand you.” You shook your head before kissing him again. “At all.”

“That makes two of us, princess.” Peter gave you a cocky smirk as his hand traveled up your leg. 

“I told you not to call me that, daddy.” You shot back, making Peter gulp. You laughed wickedly and propped yourself up on your elbows. “Thats what I thought. You’re all talk.”

“That wasn’t fair.” He growled, teeth grazing your earlobe now. 

“You just can’t handle it.” You teased him. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” Peter said simply as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Same.” You laughed at the irony. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker  @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @purefluffykiwi @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind  @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @spideydreamers​ @parkerpeter24​ ​ @cherrym4rk​​ @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr​​ @ziggyspurplehaze​​ @frustratingpaperclip​​ @bbreadroll​​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​​ @lil-mellow-bunbun​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mariposa-macaroon​ @mrvelscaptains​

[telli1206]

malvie for the ship ask 😇

Sorry this took a few days - it takes a long time to fill these out! This is for @fuck-you-i-am-spiderman too 😊

Who would be the big spoon/little spoon? 

Mal would be the little spoon, but she usually doesn’t consent to spooning. Evie is subtle, snaking arms around her while they study together or watch a movie. By the time Mal realizes they’re spooning, she’s too entranced by Evie’s perfume and the soft touch of her fingers to even try to fight it.

Who would wake up first? 

Evie. She always needs plenty of time for her makeup and hair routine. When her hair is perfectly brushed and soft, she’ll take a break to wake up Mal, dragging her soft strands along her girlfriend’s cheek until Mal’s bristling her nose, then finishes with soft kisses to make sure she’s fully awake.

Do they have nicknames for each other? 

Mal will forever call Evie her Princess, but she also likes to tease that she’s the Apple of her Eye, and in the privacy of their room she’s her Candy Apple (because she tastes so sweet).

Evie calls Mal Baby Dragon or just Baby, but she’s also her Firestarter 😉

How do they apologize after an argument?

The only way to get time to apologize to Evie is to be her model when she’s working on clothes, so Mal always sucks it up and plays mannequin for the day, giving them time to talk and sort things out. And it’s the best time to kiss and makeup when Mal’s already down to her bra and underwear and she only has to coax Evie into joining her...

Evie knows that Mal’s a sucker for her pouts, so she usually fakes a pretty pout with her fully painted red lips, knowing that even a mad Mal can’t resist kissing it away, which ultimately open her up to Evie’s apology.

What would they be like as parents? 

Evie would joke that she’s raising Mal along with her kids, because while Evie keeps a clean house and is strict about eating healthy and getting proper sleep, Mal is making pillow forts, eating popcorn in bed, and plotting Halloween trick or treating routes that have the best candy. Every once in a while Evie has to scold Mal and the kids, but for the most part she loves what a fun mom Mal is, and loves to join in on the activities.

Who is more romantic?

Mal. She knows how much Evie adores public displays of affection, so she goes out of her way to do sweet things, like having flowers sent to her in class, leaving surprise gifts in her locker, or leaving sweet notes on their door for the days she’s away at Tourney practice. Evie’s glowing smile and sweet kisses are plenty of reward for all her effort.

What sort of gifts do they get for each other? 

Even though Evie is not a sports fan, she knows that Mal enjoys going to games, so she loves to gift Mal with tickets to games and professional Tourney team gear. Evie will get dressed up in team colors and go to the games with Mal, who loves to sit and explain everything that’s going on with Evie so they can boo and cheer together.

And Mal forces herself out of her comfort zone to gift Evie with beautiful jewelry and accessories to complement the clothing she designs, almost always dragging Dizzy along with her to make sure she picks the perfect pieces each time.

Who gets jealous easiest? 

Mal. Evie’s way too gorgeous and sweet, and she can’t help but think that everyone that talks to her wants to be with her. Mal tends to have her hands on her whenever they’re out in public together, always feeling the need to stake her claim on her pretty girlfriend.

Who gets more excited for events e.g.. Birthdays, Christmas? 

Evie. She’s always planning handmade gifts, so she’ll think of ideas weeks in advance in order to have the gifts ready in time. She always puts Mal in charge of decorating for each holiday and birthday, but they love to go shopping together to pick out the decorations. Once they’re home, Evie usually gets to sewing while she supervises Mal’s decorating.

Who is the most adventurous? 

Mal. Evie usually keeps quiet about Mal’s shenanigans, but her adventurous streak does worry her. She’s hurt herself pretty badly attempting some wild passes by jumping over shoulders at Tourney games. But Evie’s biggest problem is when Mal and Jay concoct ideas together, like when they tried to build their own half mile slip and slide, using soap to go extra fast and aiming it into the school’s lap pool.

Who is the most protective? 

Evie. She knows that Mal spent years trying to prove she could be bad to her mother, and some students find it hard to forget that she’s Maleficent’s daughter, despite her decision to be good. Evie is a master at steering conversations politely, and is always right on top of changing topics when someone tries to approach that sensitive subject.

What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts? 

Sickeningly sweet to each other, but also an evil power house on the isle. Mal would rule the school and spend her days wreaking havoc with Evie by her side, holding her hand and smiling her approval. Evie also intimidates, but in a more subtle way by quietly threatening with her acids and poisons in hand. After school they’d make out in Evie’s garden, with Mal occasionally sneaking up to Evie’s room to spend the night with her, for cuddling and other activities 🙃

Who uses all the hot water? 

Mal. She loves soaking in a hot bath, but she’s always just a waster of water in general. Evie usually gives her a frustrated glares when she has to walk behind Mal to shut off the faucet, shower, or bathtub.

Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire whilst cooking? 

Evie. She doesn’t love cooking, so she’d rather focus her time on her clothing lines. Mal is a decent cook, but she doesn’t love to do it, so they tend to go out to eat pretty often. They’ll occassionally take food back to the dorms to eat, but Evie does like to get out and stretch her legs after long days of filling clothing orders.

Who initiates sexy times the most? 

Mal. Evie’s always up for it, but she loves to hear Mal dance around the idea to her. She plays coy and innocent, pretending she doesn’t know what Mal is suggesting, up until she basically pounces on Evie.

Who is more dominant? 

Mal thinks she is, and Evie likes to have her believe that, but truthfully, Mal is heart-eyed for Evie and will do anything she wants. But Evie likes to try to subtley convince Mal that Evie’s ideas are hers anyway to keep her thinking that she’s in charge.

What would they do if the other one was hurt? 

Lose their MINDS. They hate seeing the other hurt, and both end up right at each other’s sides, grabbing faces and kissing before they check over injuries and escort each other to the nurse. And they’re both great nurses to each other during recoveries, spoon feeding, cuddling, and giving sponge baths until the other feels completely better.

Who gives nose/forehead kisses? 

Evie. Mal is too cute when she gets them, scrunching her nose and shaking her hair in Evie’s face after the kiss. And she loves getting them so much from Evie that she’ll come up to her throughout the school day and try to impress her with things she did, like not punching Chad when he got in her face and called her a pussy during practice, so she can earn another nose kiss.

What their biggest fight was/will be about:

I can’t picture them fighting at all, to be honest. There’s way too much love, understanding and support in this relationship. They are for sure relationship goals.

BONUS #1: Song to sum them up? 

“1, 2, 3, 4″ by the Plain White T’s

BONUS #2: A head canon?

Evie is head cheerleader and Mal plays on the Tourney team. During almost every game, Evie has the squad do a routine to the beat of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” by Billy Joel, and Mal knows it’s just for her (Firestarter 😉). The support from her girlfirend always pumps her up, and makes her blush just a little...

BOTTOM LINE: Do I ship it?

10000x Yessss. These girls are the ultimate power couple.

[desperationandgin]

Deep As The Road is Long (Part 1, Chapter 7)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: AO3

Read Previous Chapter

October 2015

Halloween comes with so much fanfare that Jamie isn’t quite sure where to start. This is the first year Faith truly understands (and feels well enough) to dress up. They spend hours all month looking at costumes, floating ideas and thoughts between them. She considers a superhero of some sort but dismisses those as, collectively, not being cute. Whatever that could possibly mean. Then she thinks she could be a doctor, like Claire, but at the last minute is too shy to even imagine it. They go through every Disney princess, different occupations, and finally, at the end of it, she decides on a simple black cat.

Because of the cat ear headband, of all things. Jamie doesn’t understand what goes through a young girl’s mind and he isn’t about to begin questioning it now. They order a costume, and on Halloween he helps her dress; it’s not much more than a black leotard, a black belt with a tail on the backside, and the cat ears, but then there’s the face paint. She’s so excited that he’s surprised when she sits still enough for the pink nose and whiskers. When there’s a knock at the door, she moves faster than he’s seen her go in months, and he lets her answer as he walks behind her.

“Doctor Claire!”

Hugs are received first from Faith before the little girl pulls back, narrowing her eyes. “Where’s yer costume?” she asks curiously.

“I didn’t have time to get one,” Claire explains. “But I don’t think anyone at the hospital will mind.”

She’s invited Faith and Jamie to the trick-or-treat event at the Children’s Hospital, a place Jamie is familiar, a place where Faith will still know some of the children from her own stay.

“No, ye need a costume, Doctor Claire. Daddy already doesna have one.”

Jamie smirks. “I told ye, I’m a Scot for Halloween. Most people here have never seen one.”

Claire bites at her bottom lip, trying not to laugh at both his lack of wanting to dress up and Faith’s exasperation at the adults.

“Ye have to have a costume,” Faith insists, then reaches for her own cat ears and hands them up to Claire. “Daddy can paint your face and ye can be a cat!”

Kneeling, Claire stays at Faith’s eye-level for a moment. “I don’t want to take the cat ears you were so excited to have. What if...your dad paints my face? People will still know I’m a cat with whiskers and a pink nose, won’t they?”

Faith seems to consider this, then nods, putting her ears back on with a grin. “Okay.”

Jamie shakes his head, swallowing back a smile as he watches Faith disappear to put on her shoes. “Guess ye get to be my next victim. I’m no’ great with the face painting bit.”

Claire smirks and sits on the couch. “Oh, I imagine. Drawing curvy black lines must be quite difficult,” she teases. She’s rewarded with a kiss to the tip of her nose before he begins painting it.

“She’s been so excited about this, she’ll be talking about it forever. But it’s nice,” he says, meeting Claire’s gaze. “To see her so happy.”

The smile Claire gives Jamie is so full of warmth and hope. His daughter’s next appointment isn’t for a few weeks yet, but she’s confident that this – the happiness and chance for Faith to just be a happy little girl – won’t go anywhere. “She is certainly insistent about us conforming to all Halloween protocol,” she murmurs as Jamie paints.

“Aye, and I’ve greatly disappointed her by no’ dressing up. I didn’t have it in me to be something I’m not right now,” he admits, painting black lines across Claire’s cheeks.

“You haven’t been you in a long time, Jamie.” He’s been a new husband, a widower, father of a sick child. “She doesn’t understand that right now, but one day she will. And one missed Halloween won’t matter. I promise.”

For that, she gets a soft kiss once the face painting is done. “I do believe ye are now, officially, a cat.”

Before he can move too far, Claire meets his lips again, closing her eyes and letting herself give in to it for a brief moment. This is still new, every kiss still holds the promise of the next, and she smiles softly when she pulls back. “I think you found a new calling, truly,” she advises, not even bothering to look in a mirror. Faith returns, shoes on and successfully tied, and then they go, taking Jamie’s leased vehicle rather than try to get a booster seat into Claire’s.

Walking inside, Faith is secure in Jamie’s arms as she points out all of the decorations, excited to see some of the nurses and waving at them before joining the other kids who are well enough to have dressed up. They ‘trick-or-treat,’ receiving treats from staff and volunteers before making a few very simple crafty things. Claire’s careful not to spend too much time lingering with Jamie and Faith, somewhat paranoid about creating a conversation with her peers she’s not willing to have just yet. Still, from where she is her gaze falls on them often and more than once it’s as though he knows she’s watching because his head turns, eyes lingering on her before turning his attention back to the flurry of activity.

Goodies obtained and time of her life had, Faith has just about fallen asleep when Claire insists they go home without her, that she’ll be fine. They arrived together; no need to push their luck by leaving together. She stays after they’re gone to help with the cleanup and that’s when she sees them: the infamous cat ears. They must have come off, and as Claire picks them up and considers the hard plastic, she isn’t surprised; after a while, even she would have been annoyed at the feel of that behind her ears. She should return them, she realizes, checking her watch. It’s late enough that Faith should be sleeping, early enough that Jamie will likely still be awake. She needs to get her car anyway and feels slightly bad about the two minute Uber ride she takes to the apartment complex. A ride she’s only taking now because it’s so dark, even if she wishes she had the time to walk and think. She could transfer Faith’s case to a different doctor, one Claire trusts, but she knows even with a glowing recommendation, Jamie will be opposed. She wonders, can’t help it, what happens when he does go back to Scotland. Is this – whatever it is – for the next few months only?

There isn’t enough time to dwell on it, ride over too soon. Holding the cat ears in her hand, Claire makes her way to his apartment and knocks softly. As soon as the door opens, she smiles at him and holds up the headband. “Found something.”

“Christ, she nearly had a meltdown like it was the end of the world,” Jamie says, letting Claire in and closing the door. “She’ll be thanking ye for that one,” he tells her with a fond smile as he leads her to the living room and drops the accessory to the coffee table. “Ye make a verra bonny cat, by the way.”

Claire’s followed him further inside and at his words, blushes just a little. “Oh, do I? That’s only because of someone’s very handy brushwork.” She finds her way closer to him until she can reach out and rest her hands at his hips.

He reciprocates in kind. “I should show ye how grateful I am,” he murmurs, ducking his head close to hers. “I did no’ have a reward in mind, but hopefully this is compensation enough for going out of yer way.” There’s a beat where he hovers, his breath touching her lips before kissing her. It’s soft, tender, until he feels her respond. Then, his tongue does glide over hers, wrapping his arms fully around her now.

She really could melt into him, could very happily continue kissing him just like this for the rest of her life. There are so many unknowns, but she can’t bring herself to ask them. The last year has been an unknown to him, and this, for better or worse, he can control. Whatever life he decides he wants, be it here or in Scotland, she can’t dictate it or try to sway him. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to Faith. So, she’ll take this, as long as she can have it.

When he pulls back, it’s only to press his forehead to hers. “Do ye ever feel guilty?” he asks quietly, pressing his left hand to hers, both wedding bands clinking together just softly.

It’s a question she isn’t expecting but realizes it, too, has been on her mind, right below the surface. Closing her eyes, her fingers lace with his as her head turns so that she can nuzzle and press her cheek to the stubble there, a pleasant scratch against her skin. “I did,” she admits. “Until I thought about what Frank would have wanted. Never would he have wanted me to be sad about finding happiness.”

“Most days I feel the same way.”

“Most?”

She pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes moving over his face.

“I dream about her sometimes. Even now.”

He sounds, for some reason, ashamed of it, and she reaches out, stroking his cheek. “Jamie, she was your wife,” Claire says quietly, gently. “Every now and then, I think I see Frank walking down the street and I have to remind myself,” she says, clearing her throat. “You’ll always think of her. That’s nothing to feel guilty over, at least not with me.”

Jamie closes his eyes, forehead finding purchase against hers once more. “Ye’ve been a comfort, Claire. But I have no’ felt like this in a verra long time,” he confesses, holding onto her now, tighter.

“Neither have I,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “With you, it doesn't frighten me.” It should, for a dozen different reasons, but instead of acknowledging anything working against her or them, she just kisses him again, arms winding around his neck.

It’s easy with Jamie, and maybe that’s what she fears the most.

Next Chapter

[lucytara]

For that bumblebee thing. Color: dark red. Song lyric: "I see you walking home alone, Your face is alive and bright. But you can't see how weak you are, 'Cause I could end it tonight"

To be honest, Blake’s fucking tired of council meetings. Especially when they all revolve around her without really allowing her to speak. 

She’s still too young, the elders have said, her parents included; she won’t be taking over for years to come, but it’s a requirement that she attend anyway, just to learn to the ropes. And she’s so bored. She’s not supposed to travel beyond her borders, she’s not allowed to enter the mortal realm - she’s so contained, constricted. For royalty, she thinks, she sure doesn’t get treated like it. 

So she runs. She can’t think of a reason not to. 

But she doesn’t run far. 

She stops on The Bridge, the delicate world between humans and angels, a place lower demons - like the ones she knows will be sent to search for her - can’t enter. It’s a vision of the paradise humans like to believe exists; lush forests, healing springs, no pain, no misery, no reluctance. She manages to sneak by the angels rejuvenating themselves at the waterfall, traipses through the woods and into a clearing, flowers spilling over the grass and the sun eternally shining down. 

It’d be the perfect place to take a break, relax, get away from it all, except that it isn’t empty.

There’s a girl sitting in the center of it, her back to Blake, blonde hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, as wild as the woods they’re in. She doesn’t seem to feel Blake’s presence, because all she does is stay exactly as she is, the ground blooming around her. 

The thing about angels is that they have no idea how breakable they are, that’s the first thing Blake thinks. How easy it’d be for her to walk up behind the woman, press her nails into her throat, tear it out and send her back to repair, rebirth. Nothing dies here. Nothing exciting ever happens. 

She doesn’t realize how close she’s moved, subconsciously on the edge of doing exactly what she’d daydreamed about, until she’s interrupted. “I have to say,” a voice wrapped in amusement rings out, “I didn’t expect to meet you here, Your Highness.”

Blake freezes steady, caught off-guard, and even more startled to be recognized by sense alone. The girl turns, smirk on her face rather than a smile, and, shit, Blake’s possibly made some mistakes. “Um,” Blake says brilliantly, because she’s definitely not supposed to be talking to one of the Maidens. “I can be wherever I want,” is what slips out of her mouth next, defiant and unobstructed. 

The girl’s mouth curls further. “I’m sure,” she says, slowly getting to her feet; strangely she’s sheathed in a gold dress instead of white, and it occurs to Blake how out of place she looks, wearing leather pants, thigh-high boots, and and a black crop top with criss-crossing straps. “There’s nobody looking for you, then? I have a hard time believing the Princess of Hell can wander off without sending half the kingdom into panic.” 

“How do you know who I am?” Blake asks bluntly. “And no. Nobody important is looking for me, because sending the kingdom into a panic is exactly what they don’t want to do.” 

“So they know you’ve left of your own free will?” the girl says. “I don’t want to be listed as an accomplice, you know. I have quite an important position here. Full benefits. Salaried.” 

Blake laughs unexpectedly at the response and is immediately startled to hear herself do so. She observes the woman closer, more carefully. They’ve met before; they must have. All royalty are introduced, and gained royalty is even greater. The flowers, the gold of her dress, her hair…there’s something devastatingly familiar about her. “You’re Spring,” Blake says suddenly, the recognition coming to her. Oh, shit, this is definitely bad.

“I also have a name,” she says dryly, seemingly uncaring of all the punishments that could befall the two of them if they’re caught coercing. “It’s Yang, if you feel like using it.” 

“Yang,” Blake repeats, finds her tone softer than she intends. “I should’ve known you were no ordinary angel.” 

“And why’s that?” 

Blake rolls her eyes, gestures plainly. “Angels aren’t nearly as beautiful as you,” she lets slip, and shuts her mouth abruptly. Yang’s eyes seem to brighten with the lavender growing around them. She changes the subject. “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Thinking,” Yang says, allows the shift between them. “You aren’t the only one who gets…tired, I guess, of responsibility.” 

“Are Maidens even allowed to admit that?” 

Yang blinks at the response, laughs once, delicately. “Probably not,” she says charmingly. “But I’m trusting you won’t turn me in.”

“Now you’re an accomplice,” Blake says, smiling slightly. “We’re both breaking the law.” 

Yang merely shrugs, steps closer to her. Strangely, it doesn’t ignite the urge to run. “Oh, to hell with the law,” she says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise high, her stare dropping to Yang’s mouth. “I broke it the second I acknowledged your presence and didn’t immediately alert the High Guard.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Blake asks, her wariness fading and falling.

Yang stops directly in front of her, lets her eyes paint across Blake’s face, her mouth, the line of her jaw, the curve of her collarbone, the way the wind teases her hair. “I see a lot of beautiful things,” she murmurs, and raises a hand, intimately brushing her thumb across Blake’s bottom lip, “but nothing that quite rivals you.” 

“Run with me,” Blake whispers, enthralled. She doesn’t know why she says it, what strikes the urge within her, only that there’s something about Yang’s soul clutching her close, like a second of contact is all that’s ever been needed for love. “I’m tired of this. Of all of it.”

“Me?” Yang says, but she’s less thrown by the request than Blake expects her to be. “Why me?” 

“Don’t you feel it?” Blake breathes out, her hands winding around Yang’s waist. Oh, they could be tried on sight for this. “We met for a reason.” 

“You’d risk all of Hell for me?” Yang says, but her hands have settled on Blake’s shoulders. “After one conversation?” 

“We met before,” Blake says, the recollection instantaneous. She could never forget this girl, not sure how she’d convinced herself she did. “That’s how you knew it was me. We met on the Border, years ago. You just - you just stared, like you couldn’t help yourself. I didn’t want you to. I knew.” 

Yang’s eyes only dart between hers, and she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth. “It’s a mistake,” she says quietly, her eyelashes fluttering. “There’s - it never should’ve been you and me. I feel it, too. But someone made a mistake. We can be stripped for this.” 

“I don’t care,” Blake says. The sun burns overhead, and despite their rules and regulations, not a single decision she’s made that day feels like a fault. “They don’t make mistakes up there, and I’m not going to be the first one to accuse them of it.” She tilts her head, dips forward, lets their mouths meet in the middle; the sun still glimmers overhead, the flowers still bloom. Nothing’s happened that shouldn’t have if the universe has a say in it. “Run away with me.” 

“Okay,” Yang says, her smile free and unyielding, and Blake kisses her again. Let their kingdoms collapse, let their titles fade and disintegrate. Some things are worth more. “I think I know of a place.”

[ijaws]

@oh-just-hazel

Racism

I agree. Reverse Racism doesn’t exist. 

Racism exists. There’s no ‘reverse’ or cute little terms to replace it like Racial Prejudice. Hell, Racial Prejudice falls under the definition of Racism in every single dictionary I could find on a quick google search. I’m sorry, but if you provide any sort of Racial Discrimination, Prejudices, or Racial Superiority Propoganda you’re 100% racist. There’s no if/and/or ‘but’s about it. I don’t care what skin color you are. 

If you say that you can’t be racist because you’re a minority you’re delusional or brainwashed. If you discriminate or are prejudiced against anyone based on their skin color, you are no better than or different from a White Racist. None. You are BOTH equally wrong and I will treat both as you should be treated. As racist scumbags who don’t deserve to breathe the same air I do for being such braindead human beings that shouldn’t have the right to procreate.

Black person expressing Racial Prejudice = White person expressing Racial Prejudice

There’s no difference. They are both equally shitty people and if you defend that Black Person then you are literally advocating for Black Racism. You are actively defending racist behavior. It would be NO different than me defending a White Racist.

Source Material

I’m going to clear up my position on this subject. If you do not believe me on here, then look through some of my other posts regarding Ariel. 

I believe that if a character was created a specific way with specific traits that those specific traits should stay the same with every depiction of the character onward. Now there can be adaptations of the character, and there is nothing wrong with that, but you can’t take a character named Jimmy and make him a woman and still call him Jimmy. You can’t take a White Character named Jimmy and make him Black and still call him Jimmy. That’s not how that works. Jimmy, if he was established as a White Character, is, well, White. Jimmy isn’t Black. The same goes for a Black Character. Let’s say that Micheal is Black. You can’t take Micheal and make him White and still call him Micheal. That’s not how that works. Micheal ISN’T White. Micheal wasn’t established as a White Character. 

So if you established Cinderella as a White Princess, then she is a WHITE Princess. If you establish Snow White as a White Princess, then she’s a White Princess. If you establish Belle from Beauty and the Beast as White (eventually a White Princess) then she is WHITE. If you establish Tiana is a BLACK Princess, then she is a BLACK Princess. If you establish Mulan as an Asian Warrior Princess, then she’s an ASIAN Warrior Princess. If you establish Pocahontas as a Native American Princess, then she’s a Native American Princess. If you establish that a character is Gay, then that character is a GAY character. If you establish that they are a lesbian, then that character is a lesbian character. 

If you establish Ariel as White with Red hair and Blue eyes, then she is WHITE with RED HAIR and BLUE EYES. 

Ariel does not have dark eyes, african hair, and dark skin. Pocahontus doesn’t have pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes does she? No. She doesn’t. Therefore if I changed Pocahontas to have pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes would she still be Pocahontas? I want to answer this. Like. Legit. Would she, or would she not, still be Pocahontas? If she isn’t then you are racist just like how you’re trying to point me out as racist.

“Her story revolves around her being Native-” Oooh, okay. So that means I can go and make Falcon from the MCU into a pale skinned, brown haired, blue eyed White guy? After all, his race doesn’t matter too much to his character. It should be PERFECTLY acceptable for me to change his race then. Oh, what about Colonel James Rhodes? AKA War Machine? You know, Don Cheadle’s character. I can go and change his race right? That’ll be perfectly acceptable, right? After all, him being Black does nothing to story and isn’t important to HIS character. 

Oh, I can’t do that because it will be Whitewashing? Then why is it okay for a Black Person to take the role of a White Person where the race doesn’t matter then? Isn’t that Blackwashing? Oh, so Blackwashing isn’t a thing because there’s been oppression in the past that no one alive today has the power to do anything about yet somehow we have to pay for something that neither you or I was a part of? Silly me. (Yeah, all that was sarcasm) 

Either it is okay for everyone to disrespect culture, established characters, and the authors original intent and depict any character however they want to treat them no matter what race they are, or no one should be allowed to do any of that and they should respect source material and author intent. 

I will be 100% convinced that if you continue to play around with words and weasel your way into justifying the erasure of Classical White Characters that you are 100% trying to establish a double standard and perpetuate a double standard. You will be trying to say that it is okay for POCs to do something and White people can’t. That you are trying to say that POCs can take whatever role they want and if White People say anything in protest that they’re immediately somehow racist. I’ll COMPLETELY ignore the fact that if you, yes you, did the exact same thing about a White Person taking a POC role that you somehow aren’t racist when I would be when it comes to White Characters. 

Do you not see how fucked up that is? I am not racist. I don’t care about skin color. I have lived in Italy, Japan, and multiple different states in the US. Hell, I’ve actually experienced racism as the victim in Japan (it could have been xenophobia though), and I have experienced racism in a Black Majority town that I used to live in. (There were 3 Black People to 1 White/Other person. I was lucky to get a job in that town according to my Black Coworkers. The GM of the company I was working for didn’t like White People. A lot of companies there were like that.) However, I learned about other cultures by witnessing them first-hand and came to respect them. 

My mother and father taught me that people were people. It didn’t matter what they looked like. My mother and father told me that racists were disgusting and slavery was completely wrong. The told me that hat if they ever caught me picking on someone because of their skin color I was going to get the beating of my life. (My Dad told me that one actually.) My Dad went into the US Military and that is where I met people of all sorts of ethnicities and nationalities. I NEVER experienced racism until I got back to the US after being overseas collectively around 8 years. In DODDs Schools (Military Schools), which I was in for nearly all of my education, my classmates were the children of Military Parents like I was. In the Military, the US Military anyway, you can be punished for something your kid does. You can get in severe trouble. That’s why I feel a majority of my classmates were well behaved. I rarely saw fights, everyone was very chill, racism was nonexistent (We could openly make race jokes with each other and we’d all be chill pretty much. None of us gave a fuck.), and the teachers were badass af. Obviously a majority of them had been prior Military individuals themselves. 

Besides that, when I was overseas a majority of my friends were people of color. Black People, Asians, Middle Eastern Kids, etc. Hispanic. I had friends that came from all over the place. Yet, if I was racist, why would I want anything to do with them? If I was racist why would I condemn Whitewashing? If I was racist why would I advocate for a Disney Princess from Africa based on Afircan Culture? If I was racist why would I condemn the Alt-Right, the KKK, Nazi’s, Hitler, and the Ayran Brotherhood? If I was racist then why would I, if I had the power, go back and try to prevent slavery from even happening? If I was racist why would I be wanting Marvel and other Movie Studios to be making MORE POC movies on characters like Borther Voodoo, Static Shock (LOVED that show as a kid holy fuck), John Stewart, Steel (Henry John Irons. He looks cool af), SPAWN!!! (I heard they’re supposed to be doing a new movie but I dunno. I’d be excited either way.), etc.? 

Why would I want any of that? Tell me. I REALLY want to know how I’m racist.

Is it because I want a classical White character to STAY WHITE?! Wouldn’t you want Black characters to stay Black?! How are YOU not racist for that when I AM?! The double standards are REEEAAALLLY starting to piss me off here. 

Bottom line is that I’m not racist for wanting a character to stay true to their source material. 

If I am racist for wanting Ariel to be White, when she was depicted as White in both the 1839 Publication in DENMARK and the 1989 Disney film, then you HAVE to say that Black People who are racist for wanting Blade to stay Black as he has been since the ‘70s… Fair is fair or there’s a double standard… Or you have to admit that White people, oh, I dunno, are just getting pissed because they’re having every single character that they love systematically replaced by POCs, essentially altering the characters they love completely. 

I also want to point out that people were mad about this stuff too. 

Hunger Games got the cat wrong in the movies. People made such a huge deal out of that they went back and fixed it. Here’s the cats. 

People were also about the Percy Jackson movie when they got Annabeth’s look wrong. Annabeth is a REALLY tan girl with really bright blonde hair and gray eyes. This is who they cast as Annabeth… 

 A majority of us are feeling THIS way about Ariel. It’s not because she’s Black. It’s because she looks NOTHING like fucking Airel. Where’s her red, full, flowing hair? Where’s her bright blue eyes? Where’s her pale skin? Where’s the fucking resemblance to ARIEL??!?

Article

I can destroy that entire article with just a few observations. 

Aladdin (1992) - There were quite literally no white people in this film and it is still one of the most widely celebrated Disney Films of all time. Jasmine, Aladdin, Jafar, and even Genie are not Whitewashed at ALL. I’m talking appearances here. Voice Actor skin color is meaningless. People who make a big deal out of that have mental issues. Jasmine is still portrayed as extremely beautiful and she IS a Princess! It states that in the movie. The Princess and the Street Rat. Honestly, it was one of my favorite movies as a kid! And I’m WHITE! Sure, this movie taught people that WASN’T beautiful and valuable because she wasn’t white and that she WASN’T a Princess because she wasn’t White. 

Pocahontas (1995) - LITERALLY showed a White Man falling in love with a Native American. Pocahontas who is an actual Princess as she’s listed as one of the Princesses in Disney's Princess Lineup. Guess what… Pocahontas is NOT White! -Gasp- A WHITE man fell for a Princess that WASN’T White?! I thought that in order to be beautiful and full of value as well as a princess that you HAD to be White?!

Mulan (1998) - Another one of Disney’s top most celebrated movies of all time with not a SINGLE White Person on screen! (It’s almost as if White People in general aren’t racist or something.) It was a story about female empowerment at this point and that you can be a badass Warrior Princess AND be beautiful as well! Oh, and guess what, she wasn’t white either and she’s a princess too… Weird… I thought that Disney was trying to indoctrinate young white people that only White Women could be Beautiful Princesses. 

Tiana (2009) - ….. Do I even need to say anything here? 

Yes, the power of Folk Tales is their adaptability over time, but, again, if you’re doing, you know, a REMAKE and not a fucking ADAPTATION then why the FUCK would cast someone that wasn’t ACCURATE to the fucking REMAKE?! I’m literally losing braincells here trying to dumb myself down to understand this stupid ass shit. 

 White Culture

Culture / cul·ture /ˈkəlCHər/

noun

1. The arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively.

"20th century popular culture"

Synonyms: the arts, the humanities

2. ------> The customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group. <------

"Caribbean culture" 

Synonyms: ----->civilization, society, way of life, lifestyle; More<------

Tell me. What were English, Scottish, Russian, Polish, French, and Scandinavian People were before they began their colonial eras? Hmm…? Oh, that’s right… They were White. How many Ethnicities of Europe are there? Well from what I can tell there’s White People and Mediteranean people. A majority of the continent, though, is inhabited by White People while Mediteranean people tend to be situated, obviously, along the Southern Coast of Europe. 

Generally when you think of a region you associate it with its people. In Asia you immediately think Chinese, Japenes, and so on. Why? Well look at the populations and their culture. They inhabit a majority of the land nearly, except Russia as it spans both continents, and have the largest population on this planet. You don’t typically think of Middle Easterners and Indians as Asian even though they are. Are Asians now guilty of what White People in Europe are then? They had too many kids and established themselves as a Majority in Asia? The horror! Look at Africa now… When you think of Africa you don’t tend to think of White People or Middle Eastern People. You think of Black Africans with rich culture and lands. Even though the VERY South and North African regions of the continent are White and Middle Eastern looking. (White in the South. Middle Easter in the North.) You don’t tend to think of Egyptians as Africans either when you think of Africa. 

With that being said, every culture on this Planet and its people tend to group together. White People, Black People, Native Americans, Asians, etc. You tend to group with who you’re familiar with and who look like you. You’re more empathetic with them. I’m pretty sure you could have a Korean and a Japanese person in the US and they’d gravitate towards each other because of their similarities. Same with White People. Collectivism happens. When people identify themselves they say they’re Asian, White, Black, Latino, etc. What do you associate with when it comes to White People? Oh, that’s right. Americans and Europeans. That’s where a majority of White People are located. White People also have their own cultures like Asians and Africans do. Therefore if you can say that something is a part of African culture, then you can say that something is a part of White Culture as well. 

This is how that works. “Whiteness,” is its own topic. It has no standing in regards to the topic at hand as it has nothing to do with what we are talking about. We are talking about collections of peoples and nationalities. White People are a collection of, you guessed it, White Individuals and their cultures. 

England, Scotland, Russia, Polish, Scandinavia, Germany, Switzerland, France, Ukraine, Austria, Hungary, etc. All of these countries are essentially White Populations. White People. They ALL have their own cultures and beliefs… The bottom line, though, is that they’re White. They LITERALLY are White People. Collectively they are White People. Therefore, White People are a thing. I am white. I consider myself a White American with ancestry from Northern Europe. I consider them, as well as other White People as part of my kin. MY people. WHITE PEOPLE. Therefore, White People have culture. Hell, we have a fuck ton of cultures. In America it may not be this way because America is a bit complicated to explain, but there you have it. 

This is exactly how Black People look at themselves and their ancestors from Africa. Same with Asians, South Americans, etc. 

History

“When whites talk about reverse discrimination, I feel that they are making a silly argument because what they really want to say is that we, people of color, have the power to do to them what they have done to us from the 13th century.

But If you think about it, reverse racism is actually kinda great. Because if it did exist, it would mean we lived in a society in which all racial groups have an equal amount of power. But we don’t.”

Quick question. How old are you? I assume you’re not 800 years old. Do you know anyone in your family that is 800? No? What about 500? Any friends or family? No… hmm… what about 200? No? What about 100? Maybe? Interesting. Well… I’d like to personally tell you that no one in your family, or your friends, have experienced slavery, oppression, unless they’re basically 60 to 100 years old, and that you’ve lived a pretty privileged life. (If you do not believe you’re living a privileged life here, in 2019, I swear I will not be able to take you seriously. Even the poorest people in Modern Countries have it better than nearly every Human in History. That’s not an opinion either.) White People haven’t been doing anything to you or your family. If you’re scared of the people that came before us, don’t be. They’re dead now. Everything’s fine. 

In all seriousness there is no such thing as reverse discrimination. There is ONLY discrimination. Also, I refuse to be held accountable for what my ancestors did. I have no control over that and I should NOT be fucking forced to pay for their mistakes. If I am to pay for their mistakes then I should be fucking praised for my ancestors that faught against Slavery and Oppression. 

Also, really? No POC alive has felt anything remotely as bad as it was at LEAST 150 years ago. No one alive has been a slave. Now there may be some older people out there that witnessed oppression that was protected under the government, but can we look at who was marching along with MLK..? Can we also look at who fought in the Civil War? Can we also look at the people who were slogging through Europe to kill Nazis? 

As for the reverse racism comment… Jesus I’m not even gonna really touch that. 

I would touch on power, but I am having a strong feeling that you’re one of those types that believes in White Privilege, and how the US Govt. is still skulking around the shadows being racist allowing young Black People to be killed and that they DiDn’T Do AnYtHinG WroNg. That the cops literally just want to shoot Black People just because they’re Black and blah blah blah. I won’t even get into that subject because… holy fuck that’s going down the rabbit hole. I’d NEED to do some drugs to stay sane if we talked about that shit. 

 The Most Important Point!

 You’re right. They’ve already cast the wrong actress to play Ariel. It blows… I wish that they would have actually made a film based on ACTUAL African Culture while also taking place off the coasts of Africa itself. You could have had extremely accurate casting choices, no white folk (cause we all know how White People are racist White Devil Colonizers.), and an original story to tell. What would seriously be the best part about ALL that would be the fact that Black Kids would have an ACTUAL tale about their ACTUAL historical culture that would be THEIR OWN! It would be ABOUT them! It wouldn’t be a tokenized White Character you know? 

Also, do you not understand how Tokenizing and Pandering is insulting to POCs? Why casting Ariel this way is an insult to you? 

Do you realize that by doing this Hollywood is essentially telling you, POCs, that this is all you’re ever gonna get? That you’re never going to get any roles or movies that are really YOURS… You’re not going to get original Black Stories, you’re not going to get Original Black Characters, and that all you’re going to get is what White People hand out to you? That all you’re ever going to get is second-rate characters? Doesn’t that piss you off? It would piss me off. Why would you even defending a casting choice like this when you should be DEMANDING an original story with original characters about LEGITIMATE BLACK CULTURES?! 

Oh, is it because of the whole FUCK WHITE PEOPLE thing? An entirely petty, small minded, mindset focused on prolonging racial tension and racism rather than ending it? Cause, you know, you don’t solve hatred with more hatred. You don’t fucking solve culturual appropriation with MORE cultural appropriation. You don’t solve racism with MORE racism. You don’t solve sexism with MORE sexism. To be honest, you would have thought Black Panther would have taught you that lesson…. That’s Ironic. You do know Killmonger was wrong and T’Challa was right, right? 

I dunno. I ranted a lot longer than I thought I would have and got a lot deeper than I thought I would have. Oh well. It’s gotten to the point that I feel like we’re both talking to brick walls while each of us think we’re right while the others wrong. I personally feel that I’m living in reality, but that’s just me… mostly because I haven’t been reading propaganda pieces but… yeah… The signs were when you started bringing up reverse racism… I kinda shoulda back off at that point but yeah… 

Lastly, you literally can’t whitewash a character that’s been white for 200+ years to begin with… so… 

Oh well… I’ve given this my last horah… Oh well… 

[artandteaandstuff-blog]

Princes and Princesses

Summary: Sequel to Kings and Queens. | Actor AU | Emma is finally getting used to life in the spotlight, thanks to hit TV show Kings and Queens. She has many people to help her along the way; her son, her friends and her boyfriend, Killian Jones. But changes are going to have to be made on Kings and Queens, and the world she's getting used to is about to turn upside down, leaving her questioning if she ever really understood it at all.

Read it on FF.NET

Read Kings and Queens.

Author’s Notes

So a few notes before this chapter: this is a sequel to Kings and Queens. If you haven't read it but want to read this, don't worry about it! I've done my best to fill in as many blanks as possible, so a new reader would be able to understand without reading the 1st one. However, if you want to see Emma and Killian fall in love, check it out!

Secondly, thank you so much to you guys who wanted a sequel! I didn't think the idea would be met with so much enthusiasm so it really really means a lot to me that you guys are on board with this. I'm excited because I just think there's so much I could do with this universe. Thank you for supporting me with Kings and Queens- I hope you like Princes and Princesses. And with that, let's dive into the next chapter of Emma and Killian's journey! Happy reading!

BIG BIG BIG thank you to @irishswanff and @captainwiley for being the most amazing betas and friends a person could have. <3

Tagging some amazing peoples right here:

@swanandapirate @kmomof4 @katie-dub @ofshipsandswans

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

Chapter 1

Emma pulls on her jeans. She jumps up and down on the spot as she tugs. They’re a little tight, and it’s a fight to fasten them– she even ends up catching her skin as she zips them up. It’s official. Emma has entered into a relationship where she is so happy, that she has given into chocolate and cake. Or maybe her jeans have just shrunk in the wash. Hopefully.

A beep comes from outside. Shit, she thinks as she hops over to the window, and peeks through the curtain. It’s Killian- she knew it would be- sat in one of his many cars. What is it this time? A Mercedes? A Jag? She doesn’t know and quite frankly, she doesn’t care as long as it gets them to work.

She grabs her phone from where she’d thrown it on the bed, and types out a reply.

Be down in a second. Getting ready.

His reply is instant.

Need some help? ;)

She can’t help but smile.

Haha.

It’s at that moment she realises how late she’s running. Hell, Killian’s already outside and she hasn’t even got her shirt on yet. She grabs something crumpled from the bottom of her bed, knowing she’ll be changing into her costume soon anyway. She pulls her hair into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. She passes for presentable now; she can be attractive later, when she gets Killian alone.

Killian.

Her boyfriend.

She never thought she’d say that out loud, not after everything that happened in the last year. But they’ve been together a few months now and she can honestly say, she’s never been happier. Everyone loves him: her son, Mary Margaret (who keeps asking them to dinner), and even David. Though he was a little suspicious at first, insisting that Graham was a far better match, he’s warmed up to him. If Killian could charm David, he can charm anyone.

She runs out her house, slamming the door behind her. It’s only then that she realises it’s five in the morning, and Henry is probably still fast asleep. Sorry kid, she thinks, as she makes her way over to Killian’s silver, well, whatever-it-is and slides in.

“Emma,” he says with an easy smile.

“Killian, hey,” she says, hoping her voice sounds calm, and doesn’t betray the butterflies she seems to get whenever he’s around.

As if he can read her mind, he chuckles. Thankfully, he doesn’t make any comments, but asks her if she’s ready to go.

“Ready,” she confirms, buckling herself in.

They’ve been carpooling for the first few weeks back at work. It’s usually in one of Killian's fancy, stupidly expensive cars but sometimes they take Emma’s bug when she wants to drive. The entire time Killian complains about the noise the engine makes and Emma rolls her eyes, but fails to suppress a smile. His complaining is a cross she’s willing to bear. As long as they continue to carpool, that is.

“You look beautiful,” he says, his eyes flickering towards her.

“I look tired,” she says as she settles against the leather. She breathes in the familiar pine scent of his air freshener with a sigh. It’s funny how the little things seem to catch her attention now. “My schedule is so messed up. It’s so early; why does it have to be so early?” Then she remembers last night’s shoot. “No, forget that, I could give with the early mornings, but why do they have to do night shoots? Why can’t they just shoot in a dark room or something?”

“You should be showrunner.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

He gives her a look. “Me? Make fun of you? I am offended, Swan.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep your eyes on the road.”

The road is almost deserted, as it should be at 5 am. The morning is peaceful against the gentle hum of the car and her own soft breathing. That’s why the ding of her phone makes her jump. She pulls it out of her pocket and the words Mary Margaret flash up on her screen.

Is today the day you’re going to tell him you loooooove him?

For one moment she frowns at her phone, wondering what the hell her friend is doing up so early, but then it dawns on her. She’s probably up with Hope, her and David’s three month old daughter. Emma’s going to have to start getting used to that. She slips her phone into her jeans, but then her phone dings again.

Have you told him yet?

She’s just about to slip the phone back when–

Don’t ignore me, Emma Swan!!! Get those words out. What are you waiting for?

“Someone’s popular,” Killian comments.

“It’s Mary Margaret,” Emma sighs as she types out a hasty reply telling her friend to shut up, and she’ll tell him when she’s damn well ready.

“Oh, aye?”

“You don’t wanna know. She’s talking about you.”

“Then surely I have a right to know?” She watches his lips curl up into a smirk. “Is it about my tight leather trousers?”

“What?”

“Mary Margaret so kindly told me that you’re partial to my leather trousers.”

Emma’s eyes widen. She remembers this conversation with Mary Margaret, about a week ago, on her first night out since she had Hope. It took a lot of alcohol before Emma even opened up about Killian, let alone told her that she liked his leather pants. Though, it was less about the pants and more about his butt in said pants. That also happened to be the night she let slip that she was completely and irrevocably in love with him.

“Wh– when did you have this conversation?”

“Yesterday. We were on the phone and–”

“You were on the phone?”

“Only for a few minutes, love. She wanted to ask you and I to dinner but since you keep giving such vague answers, she thought she’d ask me personally.”

“I was going to ask you,” Emma says, a little sheepishly. “Just with work, I kinda forgot. We’ve been busy.”

“Aye, we have. And I have a feeling we’re about to get busier.”

She looks at him, puzzled. “How come?”

“Well, we have that meeting today.” When she continues to look at him blankly, he prompts, “With Belle.”

“Oh yeah!”

“My guess is that she’ll be increasing our hours.”

A few days ago Belle had sent an email telling everyone that there was to be a meeting tonight. The email was oddly cryptic, giving no information or hint to what the meeting might be about. That usually wouldn’t have worried Emma, if it wasn’t for the lack of warmth in the email. Especially since Belle’s emails are always warm. Always. But she knows Killian’s probably right and it’ll have to do with increasing hours or something along those lines.

“I just hope it’s not because she’s decided to bring Gold back,” Emma murmurs, more to herself than anyone.

Ever since the writers found out Gold leaked the scripts, they’ve been finding a way to write him out the show with as minimal damage as possible. Even though everyone told Belle it wasn’t a good idea, she wrote him out anyway. Emma can’t help but agree with her. The king may have been a good villain in terms of story, but Gold had to pay some way or another. They can always find another villain. A show as established as Kings and Queens has a big enough fanbase to push through this hiccup.

If anything, Emma’s filming experience is much better without Gold breathing down her neck and she knows Killian’s is too. As soon as they watched Gold walk off set, Killian visibly lightened, like the chip on his shoulder was gone.

“What can I say, Swan?” he said when she commented on it. “I’m not constantly thinking about punching him in the face now. And that’s thanks to you!”

Emma’s popularity with the rest of the cast and crew has soared since she exposed Gold for the snivelling rat he is and she’s often greeted with wide smiles and back-patting. They must have really hated him. These days, the cast treat her like some sort of saviour. She likes the idea of that, for some reason.

“Have you read the scripts?” Killian asks, bringing her back to the present.

“Of course I have.”

“This season is going to be a brilliant one, I can feel it!”

He bounces in his seat, as excited as a child and she rolls her eyes again, though it’s etched with fondness. She doesn’t blame him; she’s excited too. She’s only been given the first few scripts, but they seem good. Now that the king has so sadly and so unexpectedly “died”, Alexander, Killian’s character, faces running the country alone. With the whole castle against his relationship with the servant Rose, Emma’s character, they face a few bumps in the road. It sounds like a lot of angst.

If she’s honest with herself, she prefers to act angst rather than being in love, especially with her and Killian’s relationship. Before, she could separate work from romance, but now that they’re together, it’s proving difficult.

It doesn’t help that every time they film a kiss, Will and Robin direct their wiggling eyebrows at the pair of them and Emma blushes, she actually blushes. Emma Swan doesn’t blush for anything. At least, she thought she didn’t.

“Anyone home?” Killian asks, tapping her on the forehead. “We’re here.”

Sure enough, he swings into a space in the parking lot. Emma looks around, blinking. She hadn’t even noticed; she’s been preoccupied with her own thoughts. She shakes her head, mumbles an apology and jumps out of the car into the warm air. It’s so hot, her shirt is already sticking to her back.

“Ah, it’s a fine day for heavy, layered period clothing,” says Killian as he walks over to her, shielding his eyes from the sun.

She folds her arms. “Tell me about it.”

They walk towards the make-up trailers together in silence. Emma itches to hold his hand, but she decides against it. Ever since they started their relationship, the media have been watching their every step. If they so much as look at each other and someone gets a sneaky photo of it, they’re headline news. They have to be careful. They don’t want every aspect of their life out there.

Well, Emma doesn’t at least. She knows if Killian had his way, they’d be holding hands and practically skipping. The amount of times she's turned her face away as he leaned down to kiss her in public is starting to get ridiculous. That always sparks headlines too: TROUBLE IN PARADISE? KINGS AND QUEENS’ KILLIAN GIVING UNWANTED AFFECTION?

It can’t hurt him, not really, yet she can’t help but feel a little guilty. But it’s better this way.

“Hey guys,” Ariel, their makeup and hair artist, says as they make their way into the trailer. “Take a seat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Make-up is, as always, endless. They sit there for hours as Ariel and her team wash and curl her hair, then cover the dark circles under her eyes. Killian takes it all in his stride, leaning back in his chair, book in hand.

“What’re you reading?” she asks, wishing she’d brought a book of her own.

“Just a novel about pirates, love,” he says, keeping his eyes on the pages. “You know how much I love pirates.”

After they’ve been made up and they're in their costumes, they make their way onto set, the sun beating down on them. It’s always hard filming on location in this weather. She touches her fingertips to the back of her neck, which is damp with perspiration. At least it’s only going to be a short scene, and then they’ll be back to filming inside.

Emma’s costume is ridiculously heavy and layered today, even though it’s only a servant’s dress. It weighs heavy on her hips and is tight around her waist, thanks to the corset. Her castmates aren’t much better off, especially the men, who wear thick jackets over their shirts and trousers.

Elsa seems to be the worst though. She’s wearing about seven layers, maybe even more. It’s a bad day for royal purple and a wig that falls halfway down her back. She marches over to them, pulling her skirts up as she walks.

“It’s a tough life,” she says in way of greeting.

“Tell me about it.” Emma laughs. “How are you?”

“Oh, so and so. To be honest, I’m a little worried about the meeting. Belle hasn’t called for one in a while.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Killian says, draping an arm around Emma. She leans into him, despite the heat. “What could go wrong?”

“I don’t know. They might be bringing Gold back,” Elsa says, grimly.

“If that’s the case, I’ll eat my shield.”

Everyone laughs. “I wouldn’t make bets like that if I were you, Killian,” Emma says. He responds by pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Right, everyone!” comes a loud voice, making them jump.

They all turn to see Grumpy, the director, marching towards them, his team behind him. He carries a clipboard, waving it at them vigorously. His face is red, his eyes narrowed. Already, Emma can tell he’s not in a good mood. For one wild moment she gets the feeling that it’s because he knows something they don’t. Then again, Grumpy is never in a good mood, hence the nickname.

“Stop chatting, get moving. We have a lot to get through today, so no slacking!”

Though Emma devoured the scripts a few days before coming back to filming, she flicks through them quickly to remind herself what’s happening in this scene.

Killian was right, they’re so good, it was impossible not to read them. She even found herself neglecting Henry a few times, and forgetting to cook dinner until he reminded her. She had to settle for reading them in the dead of night, all night.

With this new season there are serious developments between Alexander and Rose. There’s an ‘I love you’, and Emma isn’t sure how she feels about that. She’s already struggling to tell Killian she loves him. Though Rose is only a character, it’s still going to feel weird. Mary Margaret was right, she needs to get it out there. She needs to tell him. Especially before they have to film the ‘I love you’ scene and it makes everything awkward.

But the thing is, she’s scared. The last person she said ‘I love you’ too left, running with her money, landing her in prison. Granted, Neal was a dick and Killian is not Neal, but the idea of loving Killian still shakes her.

He’s so good. Their relationship the past few months has been blissful. As Mary Margaret called it, they’re still in the ‘honeymoon’ phase. She doesn’t know how long that’ll last and that terrifies her. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so scared to tell anyone anything in her life.

“Emma!” Grumpy barks. She jumps. “Back to earth, please. We have a lot to get through today.”

Emma and Killian are background characters for this scene; it’s more focused on Elizabeth, Elsa’s character. She has the biggest subplot at the moment. The next few episodes are going to be about her trying to find herself now that the king is dead; she’s going to be struggling with how she should feel - sad that her father is dead, or relieved that he’s never coming back?

Emma’s sure the relief that Gold has left seeps through their acting.

“Elsa, I want you to kneel down on the grass, okay?’ says Grumpy, pointing to a flattened patch of grass. “Remember, I want pure, pure emotion. You’ve just found out that your father has been taken by the plague. You’re distraught. You’re guilty. And you’re crying a load of tears, yeah?”

“Yes,” Elsa says, rolling her eyes.

“KILLIAN!”

Killian doesn’t even flinch. He just turns to Grumpy, one eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“You’re not as distraught. You’re more relieved, yeah? The death of the king means you can be with this one–” he points to Emma, “–as well as be the king. You don’t know how to comfort your sister.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he says with a salute.

Grumpy is not amused. “And for that, I’m going to make this afternoon’s sex scene as painful as possible for you.”

“When don’t you?”

He ignores him and turns to Emma. “Guilt, sister. We want to see guilt here.”

She gives a firm nod. “Got it.”

“We roll in three. MAKE-UP!” and he disappears off-set.

Then everything is a whirl of people. Cameramen whiz around, setting things up, untangling wires. Emma watches as Killian’s make up team touch up his face and apply more gel to his hair. He catches her looking over at him and meets her gaze with a soft smile.

The scene takes forever to film. During it, everyone is weary  from the sun and tired of repeating the same lines over and over again. Elsa does an excellent job, crying on command every single time. She gets so into the scene, she can’t quite get out of it.

“I’m so sorry,” she blubs through great, shoulder-shaking hiccups. “I’ll be– okay in a minute.”

“Don’t worry, Elsa,” Grumpy says with a wicked smile. “Killian will cry later when he sees what I’ve got for him.”

Everyone gives unsure laughs. They assume Grumpy is joking by the glint in his eyes and his smile, but they can never be quite sure with Grumpy.

They find out a few hours before the sex scene they have to film. Emma’s heart is fluttering in her chest. She takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but it doesn’t work. This is the first time she’ll do a scene like this since they decided to start up a relationship. Suddenly, it’s not just work anymore. It’s real. And she doesn’t know how she feels about that.

She tries to distract herself by reading a book. It’s an old thing she picked up from the props department during their last break—Jane Eyre. She’s ashamed to say she’s never read it, but better late than never. She’s never been a classics person, but surprisingly, she’s enjoying it.

“Swan!”

She glances up to see Killian coming towards her, an easy grin on his face, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. She swallows, hard, and forces a smile.

“Killian, hey.”

He slides into the chair next to her. “What’s that you’re reading?”

“Jane Eyre.”

“Ah. It’s a good one.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You’ve read it?”

“I, Swan, happen to be a great lover of the classics, believe it or not. Back when we were growing up, they were the only books we could get our hands on. Liam spent many hours reading them aloud to me.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Liam read you… Jane Eyre? Out loud?”

“Aye. Amongst many others.”

She chuckles, as her eyes dart back down to her book. “I shouldn’t even be reading this. I should be reading the script, rehearsing my lines.”

“Well, they’re not really lines. More like… noises.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to think about that too much. “I’m pretty sure I have lines too.”

“I’m more than sure those lines get cut off.”

She glances back up at him to see him smirking at her. She rolls her eyes, slowly and deliberately, hoping he’ll catch on to her mood and drop it. “Don’t remind me.”

“What’s wrong, Swan? You usually have no problem with–”

“Shut. Up.” She hits him with the book across the arm.

His hand flies up to rub the spot as he casts her a wounded look. “Relax. I’m merely joking.”

“Look, I am drawing a line right now. This is acting, okay? When we go in there, we are Alexander and Rose. When we are alone, we are Emma and Killian. Got it?”

“You’ll have nothing but professionalism from me.”

She gives him a look. “I hope so.”

“Emma, Killian, you're on!” comes Grumpy’s voice.

All at once the nerves increase. Grumpy approaches them, a smile on his face. He usually never smiles and it just makes Emma feel even more nervous. He holds a small midnight blue box in his hands. He throws it in front of Killian, who looks up at him.

“What's this?”

Grumpy just continues to smile. “Happy birthday.”

“It's not my birthday.”

“I wasn't talking to you,” he says, his smile growing wider. “I was talking to Emma.”

She frowns. “It's not my birthday either.”

“No? Well it just might be.”

And with that, he turns and stalks back, leaving them to look after him with puzzled expressions on their faces. They both turn to look at the box.

“Open it, then,” says Emma.

Killian slowly takes it in his hands and opens it, placing the lid back down on the table, carefully. He stares at it for a moment, blinking, not really understanding, and then realization dawns on his face.

“Bloody hell.” He throws the box down on the table.

“What is it?”

She peers inside to see a pink fabric and for the life of her, she can't work out what it is. She frowns at it for a moment.

“It's a sock,” he finally says.

“It's bright pink. And… fluffy.”

“I thought they were cutting back on the nude scenes.”

“Oh.” And then, despite herself, she giggles. “Well I'm not complaining.”

“I bet you're not.” He sighs. “I guess that means I better strip off.”

He's already unbuttoning his shirt as he stands and kicks his chair under the table. He makes his way off set, and Emma is sure she hears another bloody hell before he disappears completely. She shakes her head and stands, making her way to set. As soon as she gets on, Grumpy corners her.

“Listen, Emma,” he begins.

She places her hands on her hips. “Yeah?”

“We're not going to make you do any sex scenes today.”

“You're not?”

“No, we're gonna have to cut it short because of Belle’s meeting. We are, however, gonna film Killian naked.” He flashes her a smile. “You remember the scene?”

“Yeah.”

Of course she remembers the scene. It's the one where Rose accidentally runs into Alexander naked on the way to his bath. It's embarrassing for both of them, but it'll be great for the comedic aspects of the show.

“So you just need to get outside his chamber. You're gonna run in and run into him. Speak of the devil.” He smirks.

Emma turns around to see Killian walking on set, dressed in a black robe. He isn't smiling. In fact, he has a sober expression.

“Let's get this over with,” he growls.

“Don't be moody. Think of the fangirls,” says Grumpy.

He approaches Emma.

“The fangirls are gonna love it,” she says and he actually gives her a smile. “I thought you'd love it, being naked in front of the camera?”

“There's a lot you don't know about me, love,” he says, but it's gentle, and he touches her face. She looks up at him and he leans forward to kiss her, but she steps back. There's only so much public displays of affection she can promise.

The scene goes smoothly enough. Killian strips off his robe to reveal nothing but the sock. Emma tries to keep her eyes off him, she really does, but they're drawn back to him at every given opportunity. She's glad it's just them filming the scene and no-one else.

She can't help but think about how attractive he is. She debates dragging him off to her trailer, but she doesn't think ten minutes will be enough time. She wants hours with him.

“ACTION.”

Emma runs on set into the bedchamber. Killian is walking through the chamber to his bath, which steams with hot water. He pretends not to notice her as she runs in.

Emma’s gasp turns him around. “Sire!”

“Rose!” he gasps. For a moment he's stood there, mouth open in shock, before he grabs a cushion off the bed. He positions it over his hips. “What– uh– are you doing here?

“CUT!” Grumpy yells. “We need more naked Killian.”

Yes we do, she thinks, as her eyes travel up and down the length of his back. He must feel her gaze because he looks back at her, and raises his eyebrows. She gives him her most innocent expression in response. She thinks they’re being discreet until Grumpy gives a very loud cough, and they tear their gazes away from each other, embarrassed. He makes them do the scene another five times until they get it right.

Fully dressed again, Killian pushes the door open, and Emma walks into the meeting room. Everyone is already there apart from Grumpy and Belle. They all sit around chatting nervously, asking each other if they know what Belle wants. Is it bad? Is it good? No-one seems to know.

She catches sight of Graham who’s sat next to Elsa. He gives her a small wave and a bright smile. She makes a beeline for him and grabs the seat next to him.

“Hey, Graham,” she says as she tucks herself in. She feels Killian sit down next to her. “Why are you smiling? Aren’t you worried about the meeting?”

“To be honest, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” he says, “I’m sure she’d tell us if it was something to worry about.”

“I’m not so sure, mate,” says Will, with a grim expression.

“Always the optimist.”

They don’t have to wait long to find out because mere minutes after Killian and Emma arrive, Belle bursts through the door, carrying paperwork in her arms, Grumpy at her heels. She sets her paperwork on the table with a brief, “Hello everyone,” and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Emma can’t help but notice she doesn’t seem like herself. She hasn’t even smiled at them, and usually she never stops smiling. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, as she desperately sorts through the paperwork she hasn’t had a chance to organize. She’s not wearing one of her usual flow-y dresses, but jeans and a crumpled jumper. When she finally looks up at them all, her face is pale and dark shadows reside under her eyes. It sends a jolt of panic through Emma.

“She does not look good,” Elsa whispers from the other side of Graham. “It’s bad news. I knew it was bad news.”

“Relax,” Killian whispers back before Emma has chance to speak. “She’s just going through a bad break-up. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak to know it when I see it.”

Emma wants to agree with him, but she can’t shake the feeling that that’s not the case at all. She gets the same vibe from Grumpy, who stands next to Belle, arms folded, frowning at nothing.

Emma feels another jolt when Belle opens her mouth to speak.

“I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve brought you here.” She gives a laugh but it sounds hollow to Emma’s ears. She tries to smile, but it looks thin and stretched across her face. “Nothing to worry about.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing to worry about,” Elsa murmurs out the corner of her mouth. She folds her arms and leans back in her chair.

“But as it turns out, ratings have been… dropping.” A confused buzz comes from the actors but Belle continues. “It’s been happening for a while. The network informed us halfway through last season, but we were to wait before… changes are made.”

“Changes are made?” Killian hisses, dropping his relaxed bravado. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“We’d already filmed most things, so it was too late to change anything last season. We thought perhaps the dip in ratings was temporary, and they’d climb back up again, but that was not the case.” She takes a shaky breath. Her eyes flicker to Grumpy.

“Don’t panic,” Grumpy says. “The last thing you wanna do is panic. The thing is, a drop in ratings is normal for a show that’s been running as long as we have. That means there’s gonna be some changes. Most of you will keep your jobs.”

“Hang on, what?” shouts Robin. “What do you mean, ‘most of us’?” Emma looks over to see him scowling.

“I’m saying some of you might lose your damn jobs. Do you want me to sugarcoat it? I’m not gonna. I’m going to give it to you straight and I don’t give a damn if you’re butt hurt over it. That’s the way it is in this business. You knew that when you signed the damn contract.”

No-one dares to speak again.

“With that in mind,” Belle continues, more gently. “Try not to worry. We’re working extremely hard to get the ratings up, and to still keep Kings and Queens as the show we all know and love. Changes are going to have to be made, that’s just how it works. I don’t know what changes exactly-” Her voice falters and she glances over at Grumpy. “Since… since…”

“Since what?” Killian asks, the only one brave enough to speak.

Grumpy is the one who answers him. “We’re getting a new head writer, pal. And he has some very big changes in mind.”

It’s like all the air leaves the room. A new head writer, Emma thinks. What the hell? Belle’s their writer. It’s always been Belle. No-one can take over her show.

“Again, not to worry,” she says. “You’ll all meet him next week. He’s busy working on the next scripts at the moment.”

The next scripts? He better be something special.