#apparently brown characters are allowed to treat a white character terribly and calling them out for it is racist demonising

[tinky-dinky]

PSA for the Batfandom:

Dick and Damian being called out for their shitty behaviour towards Tim is not villainizing or demonising them. It’s holding them responsible for their choices. Damian chose to try to kill Tim. Dick chose to take Robin from Tim, despite knowing that Tim didn’t have anything else left, and to give Robin to Damian, despite knowing that that would confirm to Damian that violent behaviour gets him what he wants.

[courtlyharlequin]

For🌙 - Before me stood the Malleus Draconia himself. He guided me into the more thorny parts of the woods where his castle stood, once inside we had some tea and spent the night talking and cuddling by the fireplace

Aromatherapy

A/N: Not that you need to know, but this fic was inspired by black chamomile bergamot hand soap. It had such a calming effect on me that somehow transferred into my writing. It smells really good I’m ♡♡♡

A/N²: This was a little self indulgent as I wanted to establish some lore of the event into this fic. Also, my writing might be a little rusty after my semi-hiatus so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par as my other works. Thank you for being so patient. I should be able to write more frequently now  <3

A flurry of delicate crystals fell from the sky, nipping the tip of your nose with a slight sting. You held back a sneeze as you quickened your pace. The creatures of the night howled with the wind. You spun your heel, meeting with dozens of glowering eyes that illuminated the forest. They crawled towards you. Each step forward unearthed more grotesque features ranging from more than one set of jaws to foaming mouths. Your breath hitched and you turned around, picking up your pace. Your legs were light as a kilogram of feathers. As the snow fell more vehemently, you prayed that the sun would rise soon.

When the White Rabbit led you into the woodlands, she had stated that you were invited for a tea party, one where you could eat anything you desired– if those things fit weren’t mustard and could fit into the Hatter’s hat that is. Yet here you were, ready to become a night creature’s late night snack. Apparently, slightly crumbled cookies from your basket did not suffice. They discarded the goodies the moment they received the basket. Granted, you did throw it at them as a distraction.

Your foot collided with something underneath the thin sheet of snow. You yelped as you fell to the ground. The snow crunched under your weight as you shifted onto your knees. It was warm, like an embrace. Since when was snow warm?

The beasts’ growls were in earshot. Rising to your feet was a struggle. You scrambled across the snow, but to no avail. At this rate, you were going to be devoured. It was so cold. You were so tired. Perhaps it would be alright to give into a kiss of death. You were alone and lost in the woods, searching for an exit aimlessly. The night creatures inched towards you with precise steps. There were three of them– three ghastly beasts fueled by hunger.  One of them appeared to be the alpha, leading the others towards you. You closed your eyes as it pounced onto you, sinking its jaws onto your calves. The snow was terribly warm. It was almost cozy. You cried into it like a child would into a mother’s sleeve.

Thunder clapped and the night wailed. A flash of green flames illuminated the sky and disappeared as fast as it came. Your legs felt less heavy. Then, the numbness in your leg faded. You groaned. Was that it? Had you perished so soon? 

“Are you lost, little lamb?” a voice cooed.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure painted in black from head to toe crouch before you. You felt cold, but it quickly faded as you felt them scoop you up into their arms. You gazed at the ground. They were quite tall or so it would seem. Their warmth differed greatly from the snow’s.

You opened your eyes drowsily, meeting your gaze with your savior. Your senses were hazy, but you were certain that snow was not an ethereal being with long ebony locks, brilliant viridian eyes or sleek horns. Perhaps this being was your guardian angel. Or the devil? Angels didn’t don black cloaks, but he resembled one in every way. Divine. Absolutely divine,

You mewled and hugged him a little tighter, darkness engulfing your consciousness.

There was a bright light. You blinked twice. This was not the afterlife at. Or at least not what you imagined it would be. You thought it would be more extravagant than the interior of a gothic castle. It seemed dull– gray, somber. The candelabras were lit with viridescent flames, adding an eerie and unsettling aura to the bedroom. You sat up, wincing. You felt a small prick against your calves.

You lifted the covers to reveal your leg. It was bandaged neatly and elevated on a small throw pillow. Your eyes drifted to your clothing. In exchange for your cloak and travelling ensemble, you wore an oversized silk dress shirt. The hem barely covered your knees while its sleeves extended to your thighs. It was comfortable nonetheless.

“You’re awake.”

You were alive.

You hugged your legs and nodded sheepishly. There he was, an angel. Your savior set down a tray at the nightstand.

You stared into his eyes. Though you were certain that this was not in the afterlife, this man was an angel. No doubt about it. His presence said it all. It radiated power. He was ethereal. He had long ebony locks and porcelain skin. His eyes were akin to emeralds. He stood tall, towering over you with his arms crossed and a faint pout evident on his lips.

“Well, Child of Man?”

You broke eye contact.

“Child of Man,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Perhaps you would regain your focus if you help yourself to some hazelnut soup,” he gestured to the tray.

You peered over his figure to examine the foodstuff. He saved you, treated your wounds, and now he offers to feed you. Truly, he was a seraph.

What could you possibly do to repay him? Did he desire compensation? Although you were hungry, guilt swelled in the back of your mind.

“It’s edible. The fair folk have a reputation for being terrible cooks, but I assure you that the fire fairies in my castle are well immersed in human cuisine,” he said.

“Fae?”

“My, you /are/ a lost little lamb, aren’t you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wonderland. A forest.”

“Anything else?”

“The White Rabbit said something about a tea party,” you said.

He straightened his posture and bowed.

“So you are the Hatter’s guest. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. One moment please. I won’t be long. Help yourself to the soup in the meantime. I know the fire pixies won’t be pleased if you let it grow cold,” he said, walking out of the room.

Hatter? Fire pixies?

His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You stared at the tray. Alongside the ceramic bowl, there was a small dinner roll, a side salad, and a cup of tea. You clutched your stomach as it growled.

You swung your legs over the mattress and let them dangle off the bed. Your eyes trailed down to the ornate carpet. You were famished. The man did tell you to eat. It would be rude not to comply with his request after he nursed you back to health.

You bit your lip as you reached for the tray, setting the cool metal surface onto your lap. You took the spoon and raised it to your lips, blowing the ribbons of smoke away as if you were making a dandelion wish. You wrapped your lips around the utensil, taking in the soup’s warmth. It was rich, sweet, and  creamy with an earthy undertone. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Not bad, I presume?” your savior chuckled.

You flinched. He had returned.

He received a hum of affirmation in response. With that, he pulled a wooden chair from the bedroom’s study area and placed it beside the bed, directly in front of you. He sat down, crossing his legs. He opened up a leatherbound book, raising an eyebrow at you. You nervously grinned and fiddled with your thumbs. It was a decent sized book, not too large, but not too small to be a novella either. It was worn and torn around the edges though its gold detailing on the spine was still prevalent.

He met your gaze then snapped his fingers. Your eyes widened as the tea cup on your tray multiplied into two and the contents changed from a murky green to a cozy brown. They then lifted themselves off the tray and waltzed in the air for a few moments before stopping on their own saucers at the nightstand.

“I heard chamomile tea calms the nerves… for humans, anyway. I do love the flavor of it as well. Would you like one lump or two?”

“Are you not human? And two please.”

He blinked. The sugar cubes sunk to the bottom of your cup.

“I am affiliated with the fair folk,” he said.

He waved his hand around, dismissing the fact that he had summoned another teacup along with matching saucers and sugar jar and changed the teas with the snap of his fingers. Having been in this wonderland for a while now, you were familiar with magic. The possibility of fair folk couldn’t be ruled out, but you had never considered much about their existence until now. Then again, you didn’t know what night creatures were either until recently.

“Who are you?”

“A fae who happens to live in these parts and nothing more,” he said.

“And nothing more… then do you have a name?”

“You may call me anything you’d like. I do not have a preference. Names are merely labels no?”

“I suppose so.”

“There once was a little beastie that called me Tsunotaro. You may call me that if you’d like.”

“Tsunotaro?”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of that name too. You remind me of them therefore I shall allow it.”

“Alright then.. Tsunotaro.”

The light in his eyes faltered. He turned past the title page.

“And what do I call you, lost little lamb?”

“(y/n),” you said curtly.

“(y/n)... I like that,” he whispered softly, “Well, then (y/n), welcome to the Tugley Woods. We are in the northern part of Wonderland. It’s a hub for mana which draws in a plethora of characters such as merfolk and beastmen. Are you familiar with mana? It’s essentially a life force used as a catalyst for magic.”

You hummed along to the inflections of his voice.

He continued: “Perhaps you encountered some paragons of mana on the way here. Or wherever your destination was. They’re troublesome bunches, really. They have their own territories. Anything that trespasses those borders is beyond my control, even as the Prince of Thorns, I—”

You fidgeted with the sheets, a minute action and yet the fae’s eyes peeled up from the book.

“Does the origin of the woods bore you?”

You shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just having difficulty visualizing the entire forest and the factions. It must be vast.”

The fae grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured green flames within a furnace, illuminating the side of your bed with a faint yet welcoming warmth.

He rose from his seat, edging the covers, ushering you aside as he climbed into the comforters. He shifted around. Once he was satisfied, he propped open the book, continuing on with your history lesson. There was a large map sprawled across the thin pages. The words were racked from Tsunotaro’s memories.

You leaned on his shoulder. He was oddly warm despite his pale, lifeless complexion. Tsunotaro’s voice soothed your soul, spelling away all your fears— no matter how grand or horrible they may be.

“The West is guarded by the beastmen. They aren’t aggressive when you cross borders, only when you mess with their prey. They congregate here due to their affinity towards the mana here.”

Malleus pointed at the map. His fingernail made the book sound hollow.

“This allows them to use their magic easily as the area’s terrain is filled with sand and earth magic despite being surrounded by trees. You could say the same for the merfolk in the East as well. Except that area consists of woodlands with a large loch in the middle. The loch is deeper than it seems. It leads to the Coral Sea, I believe. The ‘monsters’ —”

“Why must they be monsters?”

“Aside from their appearances, the beastmen and the merfolk are experiencing a mana drought as of now as a majority of the magical energy here has ceased over the years. The ley lines have been exhausted due to constant irrigation and migration of the forests’ inhabitants. Nowadays, they attack travelers, driven by their hunger and thirst for mana to strengthen their magic and sustain their own livelihoods. Aside from them, there’s also night creatures. Those were the wolves that attacked you on the first day. ”

“And what does that make you?”

“Certainly not a monster if that is what you were implying. The fae generate their own mana. In fact, this castle is fortified with mana spun on a single spinning wheel. This prevents attacks from the other night creatures,” he said.

“That does not make the others monsters if they were merely trying to survive.”

“Did they not attack you on your journey?”

“They did, but it was the wrong timing. Besides those were wolves, I’m sure the factions have their own reasons.”

“Touché, Beastie,” he said.

Tsunotaro glanced upward.

“Oho?”

“I suppose they all have their reasons. As you said, they might just be doing so for their survival. Though the fair folk could never empathize with them, we are typically not shackled by the limits of age nor are we familiar with death. We create our own mana and we seldom consume food for survival, only pleasure.”

“I see…”

You yawned. He placed a slender ribbon in between the worn pages of the book. It clapped into place as he set it on the nightstand.

“Perhaps I’ve said more than a beastie could handle. Nevermind that. The chamomile must finally be settling in on you.”

For a mere moment, his eyes flashed into silts and glowed. Your lids were heavy.

“Rest well, Beastie—  for you have a long journey ahead of you.”

He rose from his seat, striding towards the door. The candles’s flames extinguished as he walked past them.

“You too, Tsunotaro.”

The fae halted.

“Yes… thank you, Yu—,” he paused, “(y/n).”

He sighed.

“Thank you, (y/n)” he said.

[mst3kproject]

803: The Mole People

I hate this movie all out of proportion for how bad it is.  I mean, yeah, it sucks, but looking at it as objectively as possible, I'm not sure it merits the volcanic rage it inspires.  Maybe I just really, really despise John Agar.  Or maybe it's the racism, or how it fails to tell us anything about the title creatures, or the shitty ending in which 'happily ever after' is snatched away at the last moment from the character who most deserved it.

Okay, maybe The Mole People really is totally loathsome.  Let's examine this.

A bunch of archaeologists climb a mountain to get a look at the ruins of a Sumerian city at the top.  Once there, they fall through some ice and end up in a giant cave under the mountain, where the rest of the city is.  This part, however, is still inhabited, both by creepy-looking albino Sumerians and by their slaves, the titular mole people – also by one cute blonde, because our white hero needs a white love interest.  The surface-dwellers are treated as honoured guests because the Sumerian king believes they are emissaries of Ishtar.  His high priest, however, thinks otherwise, and has plans to sacrifice them to the goddess as soon as he can prove they are mere mortals!  At the end they find their way back to the surface just as the Mole People slaves rise in revolt.  The last Sumerian survivor, the blonde, is pointlessly crushed by a column, leaving us with a movie that accomplished nothing but the destruction of an entire civilization.

Ishtar is an Akkadian goddess – the Sumerian name for her was Inanna, but at least this movie gets closer to her actual homeland than Blood Feast did.  Or maybe it doesn't, because all the wall paintings and hieroglyphs on the 'Sumerian' sets are Egyptian.  The smurf hats worn by the soldiers are Phrygian.  The Sumerians were the people with the long square beards and the bird-headed gods, but I guess nobody on the production design team bothered to go to the Met.  Who cares, right?  The Sumerians are all dead, they can't complain.  Hell, even when current cultures do complain about how they're misrepresented, Hollywood doesn't give a shit.

I have discussed elsewhere my deep, visceral revulsion of John Agar, so I won't go into that again.  Instead, I'll start by saying that The Mole People's main feature is how uninvolving it is.  It feels something like Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell, in that I think they had a checklist: for a Journey to the Centre of the Earth movie, you need a scientist hero, a love interest, a lost civilization, and some monsters.  The writers put a bit more thought into how all these parts fit into a whole than the ones on Deathstalker did, but we still don't get the idea that anybody was really passionate about wanting to tell this particular story.

There are terrible movies in which you can still tell everybody was into it, and the viewer is carried along with them. Teenagers from Outer Space is like this, as is Reptilicus. Everyone involved was enthusiastic about the project and really wanted to make this particular film, and some of that shines through even if the result is not exactly everything they dreamed of.  The Mole People is... not like that.  It feels like the cast and crew just turned up, did as they were told, and collected their cheques with no more enthusiasm than if they were working a shift at Wal-Mart, and as a result the movie itself does the same thing.  It plods methodically through its running time and then it goes home.

The only place where we really get the idea that somebody was trying was in the worldbuilding.  Like in Alien from LA, someone made an attempt to think through how this underground city might work, and whoever it was actually did a decent job.  The humans eat mushrooms and goat cheese, and wear cloth woven from goat wool. The goats presumably also eat mushrooms, and the mushrooms grow in the humans' and goats' shit.  The population must be strictly maintained at a certain size or there will not be enough food to go around – I doubt the writers thought very hard about the fact that it's women who are killed when a cull is necessary, but that, too, actually makes a certain amount of sense, since fewer women means less chance of unplanned pregnancies.  The water comes from an underground river and the air comes down the tunnel behind the Doors of Ishtar.  The mole people mine for building materials.  The writers even gave a nod to the idea of a language barrier – the Sumerians do not speak English, but John Agar's character speaks their language because he has studied it.

It all actually seems fairly complete and sustainable as long as you don't think too hard about the laws of thermodynamics – the only real question is where the heck the actual damned Mole People came from.

Are they humans mutated by a long existence underground, Morlocks to the Sumerians' Eloi?  Are Mole People just a thing that exists and we never met them before now, despite the fact that we dig mines and they could clearly find their way to the surface if they chose to?  The monsters of Pellucidar are supposed to be kilometres down in the centre of the Earth, but the Sumerian city is only at most a couple of hundred metres deep.  In fact, being in a mountain it's probably well above sea level!  If Mole People were digging around down there, we should have been aware of them long ago.  Are they an isolated species, confined to this one mountain?  If so, why?  Are they even 'people' at all?  They make no attempt to communicate with the humans beyond the most basic ideas of hunger and fear, and display little behaviour to suggest that they are anything but animals until right at the end, when they apparently organize a rebellion.

I don't know if anybody else finds this as weird as I do.  Maybe most people just accept that obviously there are going to be monsters in a Centre of the Earth movie.  The thing is, everything else in the film was somehow set up.  We know how the Sumerians got where they are, from the inscription on the oil lamp – the scientists set out to find a Sumerian city, and they find one, it's just a lot more inhabited than they expected it to be.  The way the underground city works makes reasonable sense, and yet there are Mole People, apparently just because.  No inscription mentioning Beasts of the Earth or anything like that.  The only hint we get that there will be Mole People in this movie is the fact that its title is The Mole People.  Maybe the writers figured that was enough. Maybe it is.  All I know is that if this movie were  called The Underground City or The Eye of Ishtar or something, the Mole People would be completely out of nowhere.

The Mole People appear to also eat mushrooms and goat cheese.  What did they used to eat before the humans moved in?

The other totally random thing in this movie is the blonde, Adad.  She serves absolutely no purpose in the story other than to kiss John Agar.  The movie tells us she's a throwback – millennia of living underground have led to these people losing most of their skin pigment, but Adad is 'marked by darkness' (this is called melanism and occurs in nature with things like black leopards).  Cynthia Patrick is clearly not Middle-Eastern, but then, neither are any of the other actors playing the Sumerians.  Even so, she still doesn't fit in as part of their world.  For one thing, there's her clothing and hairstyle, which are pure Fifties Pin-Up Girl rather than matching what the other Sumerian women wear.  For another, despite the fact that Adad's distinguishing trait is supposed to be 'darkness', she's the only blue-eyed blonde!  All the other Sumerian women have dark hair and brown eyes!

Adad would have made far more sense if she'd been presented as the child of the last surface-dwellers who found their way down there, with the fate of her parents to illustrate that the Sumerians mean their threats.  As a bonus, this would also have avoided the percieved need for the movie's utterly asshole ending, in which she escapes the underground world only to have a rock fall on her.  According to Wikipedia, the studio felt they could not possibly let her have a happy ending with one of the scientists, because that might be seen as supporting inter-racial relationships. Heaven knows we can't encourage nice girls to marry John Agar!

This ending is, first of all, completely contrary to everything the movie has set us up to expect, both for the relationship and for Adad herself.  As the only Sumerian with skin pigment and a person whom we know to have been mistreated, returning to the surface world feels like it ought to be her personal destiny.  Killing her off in such a sudden and meaningless fashion feels like a giant middle finger to both her and anybody in the audience who bothered to pay attention.  Not to mention it gives the impression that having the only survivor be the one who looks most like a normal white person just wasn't racist enough for the filmmakers – at the last moment they decided she still wasn't white enough, and offed her!

Adad's death also leaves the main characters having learned basically nothing.  Even with the city itself destroyed by the cave-in, taking with Adad with them would have allowed them to continue studying the civilization they'd discovered, from the point of view of somebody who'd lived in it and properly understood it.  With her dead, her entire culture is gone without a trace, leaving only the vague memories of a couple of foreigners who never saw this world as anything but a threat.  Seems about right, really, for somebody's first contact with white Europeans.

Yeah, fuck this movie.

[seriouslyhooked]

Just a Taste (A CS AU) Part 1/10

AU where Emma and Killian are contestants on the Great American Baking Show and all twelve contestants hail from Storybrooke Maine. In this AU Emma is a book editor by day, while Killian is an architect who just moved to town a few months prior. Expect baked goods, flirtatious interactions, a little drama and a whole lot of fluff with a guaranteed HEA for Captain Swan. Rated M.

A/N: After some careful consideration I decided to make ‘Just a Taste’ my next story to republish. My main reason for this is that I need another baking fic in my life right now. So whether this is your first time reading, or you’re a long time fan of CS fluff meeting the ‘Great British Baking Show’ I hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

If you had told Emma Swan a month ago, that her favorite TV show arguably ever was going to make an American version, that might not have surprised her. The Great British Baking Show was a hit, both back across the pond and now in America. What did surprise her was that the American version was making a twist, and that twist was to only use competitors from one hometown each season. The first season was to take place in Storybrooke, Maine, the small hamlet where Emma lived, and that… well that was crazy.

Up to this point, nothing of note had ever happened in Storybrooke, and local news never got more exciting than a passing family of moose, or the addition of a new baby to the town’s ranks. Easily the most exciting thing that had happened in the years Emma had lived here was when the factory that made hot cocoa mix a town over had a spill and all of Storybrooke smelled of chocolate for two whole weeks. No one had been hurt, the damage was minimal, and yet it was all anyone could speak of for months.  

Yet no longer could anyone claim that nothing ever happened here, because over the past few weeks, Storybrooke had become consumed with the rabid buzzing of TV crews and potential competition. The rules were clear, one had to live in Storybrooke Maine for at least six months prior to the shows taping. Other than that, anyone over the age of eighteen could compete for the title of… best baker in town? In retrospect, the title seemed kind of pointless, but Emma knew that people were taking this seriously. With twelve bakers in the race, the town was divided between who would win, and who deserved the crown, or in this case the dish. As one of those finalists, Emma was already feeling the pressure, and she’d only just set foot in the big white tent where she’d be baking.

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin the franchise for me,” she said out loud, not realizing that anyone was around until a deep, accented voice responded.

“My thoughts exactly, love.”

Emma turned to find Killian Jones, Storybrooke’s newest resident, who she’d only really seen in passing standing behind her. Despite barely knowing her new neighbor, her heart skipped a beat when her green eyes locked with his blue ones, and she wondered how someone could have this magnetic pull over her. Maybe it was the dark hair that she wanted to run her fingers through, or the way that his smile seemed to tick up to one side. Perhaps it was the accent, or the thoughtful sort of look he had any time they crossed paths. Emma watched as he extended his hand in greeting, and she met it gladly.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Killian Jones, at your service.”

“Emma Swan,” She replied and he grinned at that.

“I know.”

Emma raised a brow and couldn’t help but smile, but just as she was about to ask him what he meant with his flirtatious tone, the ten others who were competing came barreling into the room, led by one of the shows production assistants.

“Were we not supposed to be here yet?” Emma whispered and Killian shook his head.

“Apparently not.”

As the others filed in, Emma saw two of her best friends, Mary Margaret Blanchard and Belle French who had also made it to the final twelve people.  While both women looked inclined to come near her, the PA’s wrangled them to their designated stations and then addressed the group. Filming would be commencing shortly, and the first step was introduction to the judges.

“Prepare yourself for a big difference between camera and off-camera personas. We ask that you respect the personal space of our panel, and our hosts.”

The small woman named Tink who spoke pushed the glasses she wore farther up her face as she carefully selected her words. She was the picture of efficiency, and Emma had seen her running around handling chaos at every turn in the auditions and now. It was very impressive, but Emma didn’t envy her. Tink had so much energy, that when she moved about, it was like watching a hummingbird fly, fascinating, but seemingly crazed with how much effort was required.

“So they’re bloody horrible, then?” Killian asked aloud and Emma bit her lip to keep from smiling outright. That was clearly what the young blonde PA was grappling with. Tink looked flustered and blushed as a tall man stepped into the room with his hands across his chest smirking at Killian. He dwarfed Tink in size, appearing well over six feet next to her modest frame.

“Enough of that, Killian. But as a matter of fact, some of them are. Heed Tink’s warning and save yourself the unpleasantness. Now –“

“And you would be?” Catherine Parker asked flirtatiously. Emma made eye contact with Mary Margaret across the room and mimicked a gagging motion that had her pixie-haired friend giggling and Catherine glaring at her, but Emma didn’t care. The woman was vile, and yet somehow was dating one of the town’s nicest men, David Nolan.

“Liam Jones, EP.”

This was surprising indeed, yet when Emma considered, she could see the similarities between Killian and this man calling the shots. Aside from the accents, both men were good looking, with dark hair and nice eyes. Though in all truth, Emma had to admit she liked Killian more. Just thinking as such had her tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She felt like a girl again, all nervous and crushing on some guy she barely knew.

“You’re related to the Brit? How is that fair?!” This came from Leroy, the unofficial town crier and world’s most dedicated gossip. He loved to play the victim, build up the drama, and then cower and run in the face of actual confrontation. Emma thought it highly possible that he had been selected for the show based on those tendencies, because his trial bakes seemed questionable at best and grotesque at worst.

“Seeing as I have no control over the judge’s decisions, it’s completely fair, Leroy. Now, there isn’t a minute to waste. The sun in high enough and the set team has prepped, so let’s get going.” With that, Liam was off, with Tink just behind him and Emma looked over to Killian and smirked.

“So you’re the reason they chose us for this.”

Emma watched as a cute little blush spread across his cheeks, and it made no dent in how handsome he was. She allowed herself another moment to admire him, trying to convince herself that she could look now and steel herself against him once the cameras were there. His dark hair had gotten longer since he’d first moved to town, and now a lock of it had fallen to his forehead. Emma wanted to push it back into place, and ended up balling her hands into little fists to keep that inclination in check. Again she wondered how someone could endear her to them so quickly.

Before he could reply, the cameras were in motion and Emma felt the strangeness of the situation. Four different crews worked simultaneously, catching a whole host of angles in what seemed like barely organized chaos. Liam gave out his orders into a headset, and though they were whispered low enough that Emma couldn’t hear them, she thought they’d still have a bit of bark to them. The man practically exuded authority; there would be no silent entreaties from him, but his methods seemed to work. In the span of a few minutes they’d gotten some stock footage of each contestant, which was no easy feat.

Aside from Emma herself, Killian (who Emma knew from word around town was an architect), Leroy, Catherine, Mary Margaret, and Belle, the final twelve included a range of characters. There was Catherine’s boyfriend David, a real saint by all accounts for her dealt with her terrible temper and meaner qualities in stride. He was the town lawyer, and Emma’s guess was that in such a post, one ran into a whole host of personality types. Beside him was Tiana, a waitress at Granny’s who was both hard working and sincere and just before them was Lance, one of the deputies to the sheriff. Then there was Archie, who was a grief counselor, Robin who was a single Dad and the town’s only contractor, and Ella who was a stay at home Mom and very nice if still painfully shy.

All in all, it was a pretty good representation of the town, though there was one clear demographic missing, for not a one of the gaggle of gossips (a band of elderly women who frequented Granny’s) was there. That was because they were all running the betting ring that was consuming the town as they waited for intel on the show. Yup, this was Storybrooke, a place where the illegal betting rings were run by the AARP crowd. America was in for a real treat.

Into the tent at that moment strutted a tall brunette dressed to kill and donning four inch heels as if they were nothing more than slippers, and a man who stood another five or six inches above her with light brown hair and a handsome face. Emma recognized the former as her friend Ruby Lucas, and she nearly called out to see what the heck Ruby was doing here, but a worried Tink stomped down that inclination with a stern shake of her head to Emma. The man was still a stranger, but his face was familiar even if Emma couldn’t quite place him.

“Graham Huntsman is a judge on this show?!” Catherine’s grating voice sounded from the back of the tent, and though her instinct was to roll her eyes, Emma was glad that she hadn’t, because watching Tink’s reaction was so much better.

The small blonde looked near bursting, and was clearly unimpressed with Catherine. If Emma didn’t know her to be loyal to Liam, she’d have expected Tink to shame Catherine from here to Sunday, but as it was, she bit her tongue and moved her attention back to the iPad in front of her. His name had sparked her memory though, and Emma returned her gaze to Graham, a man who had been on another show to try and find love, only then deciding none of the girl’s were his perfect match.

“Yeah he is, Parker, so do us all a favor and shut that trap of yours before you embarrass the town further.” Ruby’s words were too much, and now Emma, Belle, and Mary Margaret were laughing so hard that they were shaking with it. They all three tried to keep quiet, but it was hard to do so, especially when looking back to Ruby and Graham, the latter of whom was blown over by the comment and looking at Ruby with newfound respect.

“If we’re quite done, let’s get the ball rolling shall we? Ruby, Graham you’re up.” He motioned to the camera beside him and Graham and Ruby both lit up with a happy smile.

“Hello and welcome to the Great Storybrooke Baking Show!” Ruby looked so excited as she said the words, while Graham feigned distress beside her.

“Um, no, Ruby, not quite. It’s actually the Great American Baking Show. We’ve just picked your town for the first season.” Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Ignore him, he’s new to this. As I was saying, we have got twelve competitors rearing to go, fighting to see who will be the next King or Queen of this small town in Maine.”

“Again, not what we’re doing here. Back me up on this guys,” there was general murmuring from the crew and a victorious smile from Graham. “And while you are right that we have twelve eager contestants ready to show us their skills in the kitchen, none of them will become royalty.”

“So what’s the take? Is it money? A new kitchen? A lifetime supply of cake?” Ruby asked and Graham shook his head, looking back at the camera.

“To be quite honest, it’s a dish and bragging rights. Oh, and if this show does well enough, hopefully the love of the American people.”

Emma placed a hand over her mouth as she watched the scene unfolding before her. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that all of this was off the cuff, completely free styled, but it wasn’t. Whoever was writing this was doing a good job, it was funny and light and actually kind of true to the humor of the two women who hosted the show overseas.

Ruby and Graham went on and eventually made their way through the tent to a designated spot so that the camera crews could do a sweeping shot of all the contestants. Emma didn’t know whether to smile or stay neutral, and she nervously tucked another lock of hair behind her ear. Yet soon enough that take was over and they were moving on to the judges’ introduction. It was kind of exhausting to be honest, all of the setup. Maybe it was naïve of her, but Emma had kind of hoped to just come, bake, do some sort of ten minute testimonial style interview after for the editing room and get home, but this was an unaccounted for time suck.

When the judges were finally brought in, Emma was surprised again to see that one of the judges (there were three in this version of the show instead of the usual two) was another familiar face. Ruby’s Grandmother who everyone just called Granny, the owner of the local diner, was dressed fancier than Emma had ever seen her and was clearly just as excited as her granddaughter about her new position. That she was sandwiched between two people who Emma did recognize was too much to handle.

“Contestants, it’s time to meet the judges you’ll be working to impress over the next few weeks.” Graham said happily. “The first needs no introduction. Known to the culinary world simply as Mr. Gold, he owns nearly a dozen high scale restaurants, including Dark Side Snacks in New York, this year’s hottest spot. He’s written three books, worked with the world’s top bakers, and has ranked as CakeBake magazine’s Master of Cake’s three years running.”

Every contestant clapped for the man in question, who though clearly qualified to be here, could barely smile for the cameras. His long hair spoke of not caring, his suit was expensive but a bit too flashy, and he carried a cane for no noticeable limp. He looked so severe and so unimpressed, it left a bit of a sinking feeling in Emma’s stomach.

Something she’d liked so much about the original show was that the Brits kept it light and airy. Though they didn’t reward bad bakes, they also didn’t look like being there was torture. This all of a sudden felt more like an Americans singing competition. Yet, Ruby’s introduction helped lighten things a bit.

“And of course, ‘her majesty’ the lovely and talented Regina Mills. She is a co founder of the now nationally branded chain Wicked Bites, is a New York Times best selling author of the Royal Recipes series, and is the face of The Food Station with not one, not two, but three shows on the network. She’s agreed to join us through some sort of magic it seems, for really, who has the time to be so accomplished?”

Regina laughed at that, and though Emma could tell it was fake and for the cameras, it worked and would play better on the show than whatever Gold had done. Regina understood her image and her brand, and this poised almost calculating good humor, coupled with her ‘no-hair out of place’ appearance was a part of that.

“We also have this season’s ‘Regional Consultant.’ Known by the people of Storybrooke just as Granny, and determined to keep the moniker, she’s the owner of the town’s diner, and in many ways the glue that binds Storybrooke together. Show of hands, how many of you are regulars at Granny’s?” The cameras panned over the contestants, all of who were raising their hands and Granny smiled happily. “Full disclosure, she is also my grandmother, and the reason I couldn’t try out for this competition.” Ruby joked.

“No, my dear, the reason you couldn’t try out is you are a disaster in the kitchen,” Granny quipped.

“Also true. Now, without further ado, let’s get to today’s challenges.” Only despite Ruby’s words, they didn’t get straight to work. The camera’s needed readjusting, and as they worked, Granny said something to Regina who was receptive if a little cool in her answer.

“No I’ve never been to Maine. So far it seems… quaint, but pretty.” That was good enough for Granny, who always tried to sketch out a person’s character on their first meeting. So when she looked over to Gold and asked his thoughts, she was in for a far less favorable reading.

“Look lady, I’m going to be honest with you when I say that this job is entirely about a check and bit of PR polishing. Call one too many people a fuck-up on video, and you start to lose your public sparkle. So for the next ten weeks, I may bite back my nuggets of truth, but know that I find this entire show a fiasco of the highest caliber and a thorough waste of my valuable time. Now hopefully you can take a hint and will refrain from speaking to me for the rest of this.”

“Do you think he meant to use all those gold puns, or was that an accident?” Belle huffed under her breath, but Gold seemed to hear her. He sent a glare her way, but she merely smiled back, daring him to throw his salt and bitterness her way. It was an amazing sight to see, and Emma couldn’t have been prouder or more impressed with her friend.

“Well in order to get that check, we need an actual show, so if we’re quite ready, let’s move on.” Liam motioned the cameras once more, and they focused on Ruby and Graham who stood before the bakers with their instructions.

“Bakers, the task before you is simple: create a cake in ninety minutes with at least three layers and two filling variants. Your time begins… now.”

As a small bell chimed, the kitchen went from stagnant expectation to fully mobile, with everyone working towards the task at hand. For this signature challenge and the one to come tomorrow, they were allowed to prep in advance, so this should be easy. The hard part would be a few hours from now, when Emma had half a recipe to go off of to make something that she’d probably never heard of.

“It would be a bloody embarrassment to mess this one up, eh Swan?” Emma looked over to Killian and nodded without saying anything. She was surprised that he’d once again said exactly what she was thinking.

“Killian, it appears you’re making friends already.” Ruby remarked, as she came up with Graham beside her and one of the camera crews to ask him about his intended cake.

“Are we to assume you’re the town loner?” Graham asked skeptically and Killian shook his head before responding.

“Not intentionally, though being new to the area does have its drawbacks. Still, a competitive bakeoff seems as good a way as any to meet people.”

Killian looked back at Emma and their eyes caught. She smiled before turning back to her own work, though she listened as Killian outlined his wild berry circle cake that would incorporate blueberries, blackberries and raspberries in one confection with a basic white base. Emma liked the idea a lot, and hoped she’d get a chance to try it later. He’d been smart to choose fruit that were in season. The freshness would make for an excellent treat.

When they were done with Killian, Ruby and Graham made their way around the room, and Emma felt herself relax into her own course of action. She worked diligently to combine the flavors just so, and make sure she had everything timed out as she needed. She was making a mocha latte cake, based off a recipe she’d been working with through most of the winter. It was her favorite drink, aside from cocoa, and in cake form it was out of this world. Her design was split into three distinct segments – the white cake infused with a minimal amount of espresso, a layer of chocolate frosting, and a layer of coffee frosting, then covered in both frostings mixed together. It was always a hit wherever she brought it, but still, Emma was worried, she didn’t want to lose points for a stupid oversight, so needed to take her time.

“What you got there?” Ruby asked causing Emma to startle and nearly drop the cakes before they went in the oven, but she recovered and then threw a look up to Ruby. “Sorry, Ems. My bad.”

Emma just smiled and waved her friend off and explained the cake’s intention to the hosts as she set to making the frosting – She had three huge containers, one with each flavor variety, and while the cakes were on the cooling rack, she would set them to cool in the fridge, but for now, she mostly answered questions about her life and hobbies.

“So when did you start baking?” Emma didn’t even need to think, she knew instantly.

“In college. I didn’t ever have a place to try before that, but I always liked the idea. You know, every kid wants the smell of chocolate chip cookies when they walk through the door. I decided to make that for myself.”

“What, your Mom wasn’t the baking type?”

“I wouldn’t know. Never met her. But it doesn’t matter, because I am the baking type,” Emma said, “and if I’m still here the week we make cookies, everyone else is in serious trouble.”

Ruby had looked like she might pass out at Graham’s question, since she knew about Emma’s past as a foster kid, but the look of pride in her friend’s eyes now was true and sincere. Emma had handled the question with grace, not making herself a victim or coldly refusing to reply. She’d done a marvelous job, and to celebrate that, she allowed herself a taste of some of the mocha frosting.

“If your reaction is anything to go off of, love, we should all be very afraid for this challenge too.” Killian’s words pulled Emma from her internal reverie over the chocolate and she grinned playfully.

“Hey, you said it, not me.” Ruby and Graham lingered just a moment longer before returning to the others as Emma moved her frostings to the group fridge neatly labeled with her name. They’d sit for fifteen minutes, to give her enough time to have the cakes cool and the frosting to get to the desired consistency. She passed the time, checking in on Mary Margaret and Belle and seeing they were on their way to some good-looking cakes too.

The problem came when she returned to the fridge. Emma arrived at the same time as Catherine, and watched as the blonde saw her approach and then ‘accidentally’ knocked over one of Emma’s containers of frosting. The contents fell to the ground, spilling out and ruined in the blink of an eye. The room went silent, and Emma felt all of their eyes and the camera’s turned to her and Catherine who had a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Oops, sorry about that, Emma. But good thing you made extra right?”

Breathe, Emma. Ripping this woman’s hair out on national television will get you nowhere. Emma stepped forward and took her two remaining frostings and whispered low to Catherine.

“Bring it. Whatever insecure, asinine moves you’ve got, I can handle.”

Then Emma turned on her heel and proceeded to silently freak out. She most certainly did not have enough frosting for everything, and she didn’t have enough time to chill another batch, which was necessary. She paced back and forth, trying to come up with something. She felt her friend’s and Killian’s eyes tracking her but she continued to move about, needing an idea and fast. When she had it, she set to work immediately.

The clock was running down and time was precious, but in the end Emma created a satisfactory replacement for the frosting – a sweet cream glaze that covered the cake with a sprinkle of cocoa on top. While the appearance wasn’t as pristine as she’d hoped, the taste would still be stellar, of that Emma was sure. Just as she stepped away from her cake, the buzzer sounded and time was called.

“Bakers that does it for this round. Step away from your creations and take a breath, you’ve made it through the first challenge.” Everyone applauded politely, but Emma just wanted this judging cycle over. She had just gone from a top contender, to a wild card, and that was a stressful thing, even if they were essentially playing for nothing.

The judges were called, making their rounds through the tent to see what worked and what didn’t. The reviews were mixed. For some, like Tiana, who Emma was somewhat friendly with, they were glowing, while for others, like Leroy, they were bordering on insulting, yet most people stayed in the middle with both compliments and complaints. When they finally reached Emma, it was Regina who spoke first.

“Miss Swan, seems you’ve provided a less… traditional circle cake.” Emma nodded and tried to smile through her frustration.

“A mix up with some frosting, unfortunately, but when does a bake ever truly go perfectly?”

The other woman smiled at Emma’s joke, while Mr. Gold looked less than impressed with the façade of the cake and Granny looked down right murderous at Catherine. She no doubt had heard what happened. It wasn’t until they were cutting into the cake and each trying a bite that Emma felt any real anxiety though. After a moment of contemplation, Gold spoke first.

“Presentable or not, this is actually quite good.”

“You sound surprised.” Emma almost slapped a hand over her face in embarrassment but stood her ground as she heard both Granny and Belle smothering laughs for it. He meanwhile narrowed his eyes slightly as if she’d truly angered him.

“I actually like the design. It’s very DIY friendly, and I think you could find this on any magazine cover. People love deconstructed anything made into cake.” Such praise from Regina had Emma smiling again before turning to Granny.

“I don’t know what you were planning to do with the rest of this, but plans have changed.”

Emma watched as the older woman actually removed the cake from her table and began to walk away with it and shook her head stunned. There was a small break for people to do their testimonial responses, which Emma couldn’t even remember completing before they were on to the technical bake – Regina’s apple streusel cake.

While tensions were high, Emma stayed collected and moved through the ninety minutes with a sense of collectedness she hadn’t expected. In fact, the only thing she noticed beside herself and the recipe before her was Killian, who took great care to speak with her throughout the time.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you know what the ribbons around town are for.” Killian’s words as they both waited for their cakes to bake pulled a smile to Emma’s lips.

“They’re everyone’s allegiances, for the competition. We’ve all been assigned a color, and the rest of our nosy neighbors can have up to three colors for the pool that the GG is organizing.” Killian looked confused.

“The GG?”

“Sorry, the Gossip Gaggle. You know, the white haired coalition of ladies with the permanent table at Granny’s?” Recognition set in for Killian and he laughed heartily.

“I rather like that. So what color are you?” Killian inquired.

“They gave me white, if you can believe it.” He chuckled again, and the sounds sent a hum of pleasure coursing through Emma.

“I can. And do you happen to know the rest of us?”

“Yes…” Emma purposely held back to see if he’d keep asking, and she was rewarded with a pleading look from him.

“What can I trade you for such information, love?” She pretended to consider.

“You can tell me what you’re making for the competition tomorrow.”

“Vanilla mouse with a lavender infusion and raspberry frosting.” Emma’s mouth watered a little at the idea and she was slightly envious of that flavor compilation. It would surely taste wonderful.

“Your band is black, because you’re the competition’s dark horse.” Killian grinned at that.

“So you’re the light to my darkness then, Swan?” She raised her hands in defeat.

“Hey, I didn’t make the color scheme.”

“Tell him about the other bet!” Mary Margaret called from her side of the room and Emma flushed slightly.

“Yes, Swan, do tell,” Killian implored.

“There’s a pool about you too.”

“About me?” he asked skeptically.

“Oh come on Jones. You’re a single guy who just moved to small-town Maine. Women take one look and wonder who you’ll end up with.” The comment from David was both unexpected and entirely spot-on, though now that Emma thought about it, she had noticed David and Killian speaking a few times before. Perhaps they were friends. Still, Killian’s jaw dropped and Emma stifled a laugh.

“Who’s the favorite?” he asked, his breath a bit gruffer than before.

“David.” Belle replied as she pulled her cake out of the oven. She was the first to do so, but still seemed pleased with herself.

“So everyone thinks Dave and I are gay?” He didn’t say it like it was a repulsive statement, just like it was a clearly incorrect assumption.

“No. The old ladies just like a little fantasy. Plus you haven’t asked anyone out and it’s been a few months, so…”

“My brother is a bit shy, Emma, you’ll have to forgive him.”

Emma raised a brow at Liam’s sudden comment where he’d broken the wall between producers and contestants and was about to ask why he would apologize to her in particular when her own buzzer went off and everyone began focusing on their cakes once more. Soon the time was up, and they were all being judged on a blind taste test. Things went very well for Emma, who actually came in second for the apple cake.

All in all, as the day was ending, Emma had to admit she’d done rather well, and that she was really looking forward to tomorrow, but she did have one tiny regret. She would have liked to talk to Killian once more, to see what Liam had meant, but her friends had other ideas. Ruby, Belle and Mary Margaret all decided that their first day deserved a wine night ending, and Emma couldn’t turn down the chance to relax and unwind. Her queries, it seemed, would have to wait until tomorrow.

…………

“Why didn’t I think to incorporate a book into my theme?” Belle asked the next day, as Emma was working to decorate her Peter Pan Petites in the allotted time they’d been given for their thirty-six cupcakes challenge. Emma shrugged in reply and Belle simply shook her head. “Let me guess, you’ll have a book theme every week?” Emma nodded.

“I need an inspiration. I can’t just come up with ideas on the fly, like you can.” This seemed to appease her friend, but it sparked Killian’s interest.

“Have a thing for reading, love?”

“It would be a problem if I didn’t, seeing as I am an editor by trade.” She didn’t have to look over to him to see his surprise.

“How did I miss that?” Emma looked up to see him genuinely wondering and she looked at him quizzically.

“Researching the competition, Jones?” she asked playfully.

“Only you, love.”

This caused a blush to creep across Emma’s cheeks and she bent her head back to the cupcakes before her. They were decorated meticulously, with a miniature Jolly Roger placed over a swirl of green. She’d also included a little Pan’s shadow and a fondant mermaid on each. Everyone brought their own stands on which to put their finished product, but Emma also had props to incorporate on the spread for her display. At one point, she noticed as the costume hook she’d brought was swiped away. Killian had taken it, in an attempt to get her to speak to him once more.

“Don’t you have some cupcakes to make yourself?” Emma asked with a hand on her hip, playing at being frustrated, when all she actually felt was excited. She loved the attention from him, and she wanted more of it, which surprised her as she was kind of a guarded person. Her past experience had taught her that putting yourself out there romantically never paid off, yet the gleam in Killian’s blue eyes made her wonder if she’d written love off too soon.

Pull it together, Emma, no one said anything about love, she thought to herself critically as he finally replied.

“Aye I do, Swan. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to do much until I can get one of those beautiful smiles out of you.” As if he’d willed it into happening, a full-blown grin broke out across her face.

“Has anyone ever told you that all the charm is a little suspect?” He looked affronted and waved the hook around as if it was a part of his being.

“Never, love. Usually women comment on my being devilishly handsome or my roughish appeal.”

“You sound like a pirate.”

“Captain Jones has a nice ring to it, actually,” Mary Margaret offered from the back of the tent.

“How does she hear me from all the way over there?” Killian asked aloud and Mary Margaret herself responded.

“It’s a teacher thing. My superpower is almost as cool as Emma’s.” Killian returned the hook to Emma’s display and then finally retuned to his station, but he wasn’t done with his questions.

“A superpower, Emma? You hold so much back about yourself.” She laughed at that. He had no idea.

“She can tell when anyone is lying, always. She’s never wrong.” Belle sounded so proud of Emma as she said it that Emma had to turn to smile at her friend.

“That’s a load of bull.”

And just like that, the silence from Catherine was broken and Emma was once again set on edge by the rude woman. Still, Emma ignored her and went on with her cupcakes like no one had spoken. Emma did hear David asking Catherine to pull back some, but that only made Catherine more hostile.

“I just don’t know why everyone thinks they’re so great. Between her, the bookworm, and Sister Mary Margaret it’s ridiculous. I mean look at her,” Catherine aimed her gesture at Mary Margaret in particular, “she goes about her life like birds dress her in the morning, but it’s all a front.”

David looked like he was truly angry at this point, and kept glancing to Mary Margaret to see if she had heard (which she had) and to see if she was okay (which she was). Still, it was interesting. Perhaps David wasn’t so fully under Catherine’s spell as they all thought.

“Just a friendly reminder that there are cameras around and the bitter words usually make the cut for television.” Tink’s intervention was controlled, but barely. Her dislike for Catherine was just as apparent today as it had been the day before and Emma was growing to like her more and more. In another life they likely would have been friends. As it was, she smiled at her thankfully and the petite blonde smiled back in kind.

Time went by quickly after that, and though they’d all had a bit of distraction, most of the contestants had nice looking end results. Only one was truly lacking and it was Leroy’s. His frosting looked like it had been scratched on with a fork of all things, and the judges really couldn’t seem to find anything kind to say at all. When it was revealed soon after that he would be the one going home this week, no one was surprised, including Leroy. What was surprising though was that Emma was the person chosen for star baker of the week.

“There was no way around it. Miss Swan provided three wonderful bakes for consideration, despite a bit of sabotage in the first round. She has a good understanding of flavor and presentation.” Emma heard Regina’s words and felt a lot of pride at all she’d accomplished this weekend. Gold’s words were less uplifting.

“While no bake was perfect, she seemed to have a bit more control over her vision than the others.”

“So verbose,” Belle said as she rolled her eyes. Emma was starting to wonder what it was about this man that bothered her friend so much, still she couldn’t deny the outbursts were funny and made her feel better.

“Emma’s a good girl,” Granny said.  “And clearly I wasn’t the only one who thought so. That Killian certainly paid her a lot of attention, even when it put his own treats at risk.”

Emma looked to Killian who smiled at her and shrugged as if to say ‘she has a point.’ Emma couldn’t help but laugh. When the cameras were finally finished getting what they needed from the judges, the producers came towards the contestants once more.

“As all of you know, we’re working on a sped up model for the show, but it turns out it’ll be far faster than we’d realized. Thanks to a few early cancelations from this season’s scripted dramas, the network needs content fast. All of this footage will be cut down edited, and sent into the networks by midweek. We expect a Thursday or Friday time slot.” Liam said all of this calmly but it caused a flurry of questions and comments.

“Wait, like Thursday or Friday of this week?” Ella asked looking pale at the thought.

“Yes, this week.”

“I thought this wasn’t going to air until the holidays.” Belle continued.

“That was the plan originally, but this is television, and they follow the money.”

“How realistic is it that this is where the money is?” Archie asked.

“No idea. But for the sake of the dozens of people who are counting on this as a job, hopefully long term, lets hope the chances are high.” Emma hadn’t thought about that, though she’d met some lovely people over the past few days who did everything from hair and make up to lighting to security.

“Do we still need to keep who got kicked off a secret?” Tink and Liam nodded vigorously.

“Of course, that was in the agreement you all signed.”

“Do you have any idea what else the network is canceling? I don’t want to risk getting to attached to anything.” Killian’s comment had most of the contestants laughing (save for Catherine and Leroy) but it seemed to ease any lingering tension. With that they were dismissed, most to reconvene the next weekend.  

Something occurred to Emma as she left the tent for her life outside once more. She had never actually expected this to be fun. Sure, it would be an experience, a great story and a cool thing to have on her life resume, but it wasn’t what she’d thought of as entertaining. She was nervous about the cameras, shy of too much competition between her neighbors, and a bit scared she might not measure up skill wise, but this had been surprising. She’d had a great time, better than any weekend in a long while, and the person largely responsible for that had gorgeous dark hair, a sexy as sin accent and kind blue eyes.

“Emma!” Killian’s voice from behind had Emma turning to him, waving to her friends that she’d meet up with them in one minute. “I know we’ll be meeting again next weekend, but I was wondering if perhaps… you might be – well what I was hoping was that-,”

His stammering was adorable as he ran a hand through his hair clearly flustered, and Emma had an undeniable urge to kiss the shy smile that toyed at his lips. Somehow she knew that he wasn’t used to acting this way. Like his brother he probably teetered closer to the edge of control and collectedness than this scene before her indicated.

“Here’s my number.” Emma said, pulling out a pen from her purse and writing it down on his hand. She could have found some paper, or just put it in his phone, but inexplicably, she wanted an excuse to touch him.

When she’d written it clearly, she smiled at him and turned around to head back home. She could have sworn she heard him mumble ‘Bloody hell’ under his breath and it filled her with a rush of excitement. A moment later though, she spun around to see him once more. He was still standing there, staring at her as she walked away like he was in some sort of daze.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Captain.” The fire in his eyes at her endearment was exactly the effect she wanted. Now all she had to do was wait.

Post-Note: So there we have it! Hopefully you guys liked it. Subsequent chapters will likely have one of the three challenges and the results featured and either a little bit of their normal lives, or recaps of it. There will be nine regular chapters in total (one per episode) and then an epilogue, HEA guaranteed. So thank you guys for reading, and hope you all have a great rest of your week!