#before public opinion led to her backpedaling

[statementlou]

Shania is a trump supporter??????? Omggg

Okay that got more attention than I expected a cranky tag to get so to clarify: it seems more like she's just kind of an idiot than a "supporter" but when asked in 2016 she said that if she was American (she's Canadian) she would vote for Trump, and then when people flipped out she kind of took it back like oh uh no? I guess we don't like him?? But for me, being so utterly oblivious to the oppression of millions as to be like 'oh IDK he seems honest lol' while people were literally fighting for their lives around that election is also inexcusable. Should we look to celebs for political relevance, of course not, but would I personally attach my name to hers after she said that? I would not.

[jaqdawks]

I wrote a little short story thing, where these two go shopping lol

Gonna post it cuz why not

Word count - 2308

Trigger Warnings - Mentions to doomsday cult branding and a barely avoided panic attack

Béla pulled up by the bus, right around where Rameir stood in line. He rolled his window down and pointed at him. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

Rameir obliged, glad to have any reason to postpone going home.

The inside of the car was average, other than the steering wheel being on the right hand side of the car.

“Don’t see that every day,” Rameir mused as he got in the back seat.

“Huh?”

“The wheel.”

Béla glanced back at him and then his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. My mom was pretty determined to keep her old car when she moved from Europe.”

“And she’s giving it to you now?”

Béla shrugged. “It’s old. Anyways, I don’t have anything that’s actually warm enough to keep up with winter.” As the bus started, Béla got around it to pass it. He continued, “So we’re going to the mall.”

“And how come you’re taking me with you?”

Béla glanced at him through the rear view mirror. “I’ve been wanting to get you something decent in your wardrobe for ages.”

Rameir frowned. “I don’t have any money with me.”

“Don’t worry, shit’s on sale right now, it’ll be fine. If you really feel bad about it, we can go by some thrift stores.”

Rameir sat back and shut up for the rest of the drive. He wondered what his parents would think. He called them, but they didn’t pick up. He texted them, but his dad had a rule about calling over texting.

“Got a curfew?” Béla chimed in.

“I’ve never really stayed out before, so my parents never established one.”

“Oof. Okay, we’ll get you home by. . . How far out do you live again?”

“Almost an hour out of town.”

“Fuck,” Béla muttered, “Okay, well it’s a Friday so worst case scenario you can spend the night.”

Béla pulled into the mall’s parking lot and got a space near the entrance. Rameir hesitantly stepped out, leaving his backpack behind.

“You look nervous,” Béla commented.

“I’ve never really been in a mall.”

“Holy shit you are sheltered,” Béla whistled, “This was a good idea. I should have done this sooner.”

Rameir followed him into the building. That smell of money, the kind that’s been all around and smells more like people’s hands than paper, it was as if it hit him in the face when he walked in. Bright displays of makeup and skincare products lined the shelves, Rameir looked over to Béla in confusion.

“This is just their cosmetics floor.”

“There’s several floors?”

Béla responded as if that was obvious, “Yeah, Nordstrom is like, rich as fuck. Anyways this is just one of the convenient entrances, let’s go.”

He led Rameir through the store. Rameir felt a breath of relief when they stepped into the main part of the mall and escaped the white tiles and white floors and fluorescent lights of Nordstrom. Rameir looked out at all the shops, randomly placed indoor benches, and clusters of people walking by.

Béla raised an eyebrow at Rameir’s stare. “Jesus Christ, you really haven’t been in a mall before, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I should have brought reinforcements,” Béla said under his breath, “C’mon, let’s start at Aéropostale.”

Rameir followed awkwardly behind him, until Béla got fed up with his non-confrontation and backpedaled to walk next to him. Rameir kept his head down as Béla tried to start a conversation with him multiple times.

It wasn’t as long of a walk as Rameir could have hoped.

As they entered the store, a cashier greeted them from behind the counter. The store was mostly empty, other than the occasional teen around their age group hidden behind wracks of clothes.

Béla started towards the back, dragging Rameir along.

They stopped at a table with folds of various shirts on it, and some mannequins behind it. “So, what exactly do you like? And if it’s anything close to what you already wear, I’m gonna invalidate your opinion.”

Rameir looked over the shirts. He hesitantly picked up one with a Polaroid logo on it, and Béla shook his head. “That's extra small. Hold on.” Béla’s hands reached around the back of his collar and flipped over the tag on his shirt. “Okay, medium, right?”

Rameir felt goosebumps prickling up his back.“I guess.”

Béla took the shirt and put it back on the pile, then flipped through it and picked up a different one that was a bit bigger. “Here.”

Rameir took it reluctantly. He stared at the shirts, not quite considering them.

“You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not really in your element here, huh?”

“No.”

Béla rested his hand on his hip. “Do you need help picking things out?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, this’ll be fun,” Béla grinned. He picked up a few shirts, some striped, some plain, some with pictures or designs on them. Some he put down after considering them for a minute, some he handed over to Rameir. By the end, they’d picked out four shirts on the sale wrack and one jacket that Rameir thought looked cool.

“Okay, now what?” Rameir asked once they both decided they’d found enough for this store.

Béla motioned to the changing rooms. “Well, go try them on.”

Rameir froze. “What?”

“It’d be a waste if we bought all this stuff and it turned out it doesn’t fit you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really like, y’know, changing in public.”

“You’ll be alone, no ones gonna see you dude.”

Rameir tensed his fists. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead. The doors even lock from the inside.” He gave Rameir a gentle push in their direction. “I’m gonna look around for myself for a second. If anything doesn’t fit you, just leave it behind.”

Rameir sighed to himself and took the clothes to one of the rooms.

Of course, there was a mirror right on the wall to stare back at him. He sat the stuff down on the small bench and locked the door behind him. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection, before he frowned at it and slowly took his shirt off.

He avoided direct eye contact at the cult’s brand on his chest as he changed through the different shirts. They all fit fine, Rameir put his own shirt back on and gathered them up and folded them.

He spotted Béla looking through some jackets, and walked over to him with all the stuff.

Béla glanced at the folded pile and then back at the jackets on the wall wracks. “Did you try them?”

“Yeah.”

“They all fit?”

Rameir nodded.

“Great. Just gimme a minute.”

Béla gathered a small pile of stuff for himself together and left Rameir to wait on a bench near the changing rooms. Rameir fiddled with one of the tags and wondered what his parents would think when he came home with shopping bags. He checked his phone, still no reply.

Béla stepped out of the changing room a few minutes later. “Okay, ready to go,” he announced.

They took all the stuff to the cash register, and Béla swiped his card without hesitation.

“How much of that do I owe you?” Rameir asked.

“None.”

Rameir would check the tags at home and figure out how much on his own, then.

They bid the cashier goodbye and left a moment later.

“Levi’s next,” Béla had said, but they stopped at a small shop called Claire’s first. Béla didn’t push Rameir to buy anything, he found a pair of earrings with cherries dangling from them and brought them to the counter. That was all.

When they did get to Levi’s, Béla dragged him straight to the jeans section. Rameir was amazed by a store’s ability to have a whole section for jeans.

“Do you know your waist size?”

“No.”

Béla picked some ripped jeans in various sizes. “Okay, you’ll just have to see what works.” He thrusted several pairs of jeans into Rameir’s arms. “When you figure out which fits, tell me. I wanna see what they look like on you.”

Rameir gave him a puzzled look. “Okay?”

Béla waited by the changing rooms this time. Rameir found it easier to try them on than the shirts—there weren’t any suspicious marks on his legs, after all.

“Got one?” Béla called into the room.

“Think so.”

“Show me!”

Rameir stepped out, feeling not very self confident. Béla took a picture, and Rameir went pale.

“What the hell?”

“Relax. I’m only sending it to Drew, then I’ll delete it.”

Rameir’s stomach did pathetic flips, and his lungs felt too empty. He stepped back into the changing room and covered his face with his hands.

“Are you alright in there?” Béla asked.

Rameir didn’t respond.

“If it’s any consolation, Drew said you look cute.”

Rameir still didn’t respond. He didn’t know why, but he felt so ashamed.

Béla stepped in, Rameir had forgotten to lock the door again. “Hey, for real, you okay?”

“Please get out,” Rameir squeaked in a small voice.

Béla backed off. “Sorry.”

He closed the door behind him, and Rameir sat down on the changing room stool and tried to pull himself together. With a tired sigh, he changed back into his own clothes again and brought the jeans that fit back out.

Béla was having a very quiet phone call with someone when Rameir walked out. He paused mid-sentence, before saying to the person on the other line, “He’s back, gotta go.” He hung up quickly and stood up.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just my dad,” Béla responded, “Anyways, what’s the waist size?”

Rameir checked the tag. “Thirty by Thirty-two.”

“Cool. Pretty much everything is the same here so, you don’t have to try any other pants on as long as we’re getting them in that size.”

To Rameir, he sounded like he might be stretching the truth. But Rameir didn’t question it. “Alright.”

“Let’s just grab one more, your choice.”

They found something sub par, cargo pants that Rameir could tolerate the color of. It seemed that cargo pants always came in a color that was almost a good shade of brown but not quite there. Béla texted someone quickly, before he left Rameir to sit on his own again.

“If you wanna wander and see anything else you like, feel free. I’m just gonna look around again.”

Rameir didn’t. He sat and tried to get over his feeling of overwhelm. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out to see who was calling. He’d hoped it would be his dad calling him back, it was Drew instead.

Rameir held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

Drew’s voice sounded on the other line. “Hi.” Rameir felt like the electrical technicalities of how phones worked didn’t do his voice justice. “Béla said you kind of freaked out earlier, is everything alright?”

“Kinda, sorta.”

Drew waited for him to continue.

So he did. “I’ve just never been shopping before, and it’s a bit much.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. They’re super loud and there’s way too many people.”

“Oh,” Rameir said, “it’s not really crowded right now.”

“You would not enjoy them in the middle of the day.”

Rameir laughed slightly. “Probably not.”

“Sorry if Béla is being a bit intense, too,” Drew rambled on, “He’s kinda. . . passionate about these things.”

“It’s alright.”

“So, how’s the shopping going?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Rameir admitted, “I usually just got all my clothes from my cousin, sometimes my parents would bring stuff home, that’s about it.”

“Excited about the new stuff?”

Rameir half-smiled. “A bit. I feel bad though.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Well, Béla’s paying for it all, and yeah.”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s got all sorts of reward discounts,” Drew assured him with a hearty chuckle, “He could probably whittle the price of a shirt down to a dollar if he tried.”

Rameir watched Béla take a small stack of clothes into a changing room. “Yeah.”

“I gotta go now. If it starts to get late, you can tell Béla to drop you off with me. I can get my parents to vouch for you not coming home last night.”

“Thanks, I’ll consider it.”

“Alright, goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Rameir clicked the hang up button. A missed call notification popped up from his cousin. Rameir didn’t want to deal with Faust right now, he didn’t call often and he didn’t call with friendly intentions, so he ignored it.

Béla took another moment in the changing room. When he finished, they took the stuff to the counter and left with the things in bags.

“You good for one more stop?” Béla checked.

“Sure.”

They went by one more shop with a name Rameir didn’t bother to read. He got a polo shirt that Béla insisted on, and that was it. He was far more worn out than he thought.

Béla seemed to pick up on this, and made the stop quick.

When they got back out to the car, Rameir was ready to collapse. Béla put their bags in the back. Rameir got into the back seat again and pressed his forehead against the headrest. He checked the time on his phone, it read 17:09.

“So, it’s kind of rush hour,” Béla said as he got into the driver’s seat, “It might take, like, a really long time to get you out to the countryside.”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna go get some dinner and try to wait it out, or should I just take you home?”

“Drew said you could drop me off at his place. So, that, I guess,” Rameir mumbled.

“Alright.”

Rameir sat back and put his seat belt on. Béla started the car and pulled out of the mall parking lot. Rameir tried to call his dad again, to no avail, then texted Drew that they were on their way.

[lilydeerwrites]

A Muggle Studies Moment 3: Part 3. A Lily and Sirius Sidequest.

After dinner, Lily had owled her mum about the neighbor’s motorcycle. Mrs. Evans, still proud to have a witch in the family and well accustomed, for a Muggle mum, to sending post via owl, did not respond until two days later. In the interim, it seemed that Sirius might actually implode into a little ball of nothing. James did his best to keep him distracted with mischief, while Remus distracted him via ... other means, but the jittery excitement was always there, just under the surface. When the owl came, Mrs. Evans had indicated that she had spoken to the neighbor, who was over the moon at the idea of someone buying the thing and had priced it quite reasonably. Mrs. Evans had also told Lily to bring her friend over for dinner if they were going to come for the motorcycle, a little fact that had James burning with jealousy.

They were to wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend, and have their Saturday in Muggle London. James, Peter, and Remus had made plans to welcome their friends back by readying the shed at Potter Manor that Fleamont and Euphemia had gladly given their permission for their nearly-adopted son to use for his newfound project. The issue of money also had to be resolved. Leaving home had left Sirius cut off from most of his funds, except for the inheritance he had received from his Uncle Alphard. Those funds were now under the guardianship of the Potters until Sirius was of age, his blood family not being able to touch that money. Fleamont came to Hogwarts to take Sirius out for an early dinner after his classes ended on Friday, took him to Gringotts, and helped to arrange and explain the Muggle exchange rate. Lily had assured them both that should Sirius forget how Muggle money worked, she would make sure things went smoothly.

By Saturday morning, when the Marauders met Lily in the Common Room, Sirius was in the best mood of his life, and Lily was starting to wonder what on earth she was supposed to do with a ridiculously happy Sirius for half a day on their own. The most time she’d ever spent alone with him, he’d been hurt and half out of it, then recovering and trying to catch up on his school work. After that, he’d leaped straight back into mischief and Quidditch with James. He’d remarked a little too casually from time to time that Lily was his hero and that she’d saved his life, but she had always shushed his praise and told him he would have done the same.

Muggle London had always fascinated Sirius, but he had never been allowed to experience it. The few times he had managed to steal away to a Muggle music shop or convenience store, he had either had to hurry so much he hadn't been able to appreciate much, or he had gotten caught and been punished for associating with Muggles. He found Lily to be an excellent and entertaining guide. She stopped at a fast food kiosk so he could try an "American style" hot dog, and get some practice counting Muggle money out. He had the hot dog gone in three bites and fortunately, the vendor was from Eastern Europe and didn't find it odd that a boy with an English accent couldn't count his change out without assistance. He probably just thought Sirius was from Australia or New Zealand or something.

Still working on her own hot dog, Lily sat on a public bench and offered to share her chips. Boys her age seemed to be oddly bottomless pits where food was concerned, she had noticed. James and Sirius in particular seemed to burn off so much energy with Quidditch and generally high levels of activity that they could eat twice what any normal human being ought to and never gain a pound. He hesitated, clearly wanting the chips, but trying to be a gentleman and not steal her food. She sighed.

"I got extra for you, Sirius. I thought you might like to try more Muggle foods. Of course, now we'll have to pretend to be hungry for dinner so we don't hurt my mum's feelings."

He accepted the chips and smiled sheepishly. "I won't have to pretend. I'll be hungry again in about an hour. Remus said I was clearly eating for two and asked if there's anything I need to share with him. He said if I'm pregnant with alien babies, he'll help me raise them to be good, upstanding citizens of this planet. Then we got into this weird conversation about whether alien babies raised by gay wizards, one of whom is a werewolf, would be accepted at Hogwarts, and what to do with our alien kids if they turned out squibs."

Lily snorted inelegantly with laughter, picturing Remus' serious expression as he declared his willingness to help raise his boyfriend's alien babies with integrity. "He's as ridiculous as you and James."

"Merlin, I love him," Sirius sighed.

Without the slightest hesitation, Lily grabbed him in a spontaneous hug and squeezed. It took him a moment, but he returned the hug, his hand hesitantly patting her back.

"Lily? Everything all right?"

She let go of him and smiled. "Sorry, I was overwhelmed by how horribly sweet you two are on each other and I just wanted to show you that I'd like us to be actual friends, not just mutual friends of Remus who sometimes talk."

He smiled, a genuine, slightly shy smile that was so different than his usual smirks and grins that Lily caught a glimpse of how Remus must have seen him to fall for him so hard.

"I think I'd like that. And, now that we're friends, I feel I must inform you that James Potter has an enormous crush on you. Like ... it's huge."

"Bigger than his ego?"

The retort was automatic, but there was no real anger behind it, not anymore. And he could tell, the absolute wanker. He knew.

"Look, I'm not going to harass you about it. I know your opinions of James are founded in the reality of his complete lack of social graces where you are concerned, but ... you used to hate all of us, then you got to know Remus and became friends with him. I - I'd like to think getting to know me a little made you change your mind about me a bit. I know watching you treat Remus so kindly made me change my mind about you."

Her jaw dropped. "Me? What did you used to think of me?"

His eyes widened as he realized what he had said, and he immediately began to backpedal. "I mean, I didn't know you, not really. All I knew was that you were always mad at James, who is basically my brother, and so when he was upset by something you did or said, it didn't make me have a good opinion of - oh, bollocks! I'm making it worse! What I meant is that you were always with Snape and sticking up for him, and - and - "

"And you hate him, so you hated me too? Were you only not bullying me like you did him because James thought I was pretty?"

"No! It's more complicated that that. Please believe me."

He looked worried. Really worried. However upsetting it was to find out that someone you used to dislike actually disliked you as well, it was a moot point. She didn't dislike him any longer. She wanted to be his friend, and that meant that she needed to listen and communicate and not scare him half to death. She took a deep breath.

"I'm not mad. We're still friends. I was just surprised, that's all. It hadn't occurred to me to think about how you lot saw me, you know?"

His sigh of relief was immediate and noisy.

"I didn't mean to be insulting, Lily. I just - "

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Friends talk to each other. It's fine if we don't agree on some things, okay? What was the issue with you and Snape? Why do you hate him so much?"

If she hadn't been so curious, she would have felt badly for even asking. Her question seemed to suck the joy of impending motorcycle right out of him.

"I suppose it was mostly Regulus, for me. And a little bit James. You know what my insane family is like. Regulus is my brother and I love him, but James is the brother who chose me, you know? He looked past my family's pureblood bullshit and gave a shit about me. So, when Snape and James got into it, I was Team James. Then, when Reg came to Hogwarts and got into Slytherin, Snape saw him as a way to get back at me. He started filling his head with - with reasons why I wasn't someone he should care about. Reg gave him access to a lot of pureblood society, and suddenly he was hanging out with Mulciber and Malfoy and they started teaming up to help my family make me miserable. And James saw it and fought back for me, and then it was this awful cycle. Every time there was an altercation, Snape would spin it a certain way to Reg, and then he'd ignore me or worse, tell our parents. They never let me explain anything, never cared what really happened, just that I'd embarrassed them again, and then they'd  - "

She shushed him softly, rubbing his arm gently to reassure him that she understood, and he didn't need to say it. "And there I was, defending a person who directly led to you being hurt. I'm sorry for that. I really didn't know. I just hated to give up on someone who used to mean so much to me. Severus has it in him to be kind and sweet, but his fascination with the Dark Arts always worried me, and now it's carried him away from me. I'm so scared I'm going to find out that he's taken the Dark Mark. I miss his friendship, how he used to be, but I'm so mad at him for calling me ... that word, and thinking I'd be happy to be his exception to policy for hating Muggleborns."

Sirius winced sympathetically. "I worry about Reg taking the Mark too. When I was a little kid, before Hogwarts? I didn't know that word was bad. James told me. It's just what my parents always called people whose parents are Muggles. I had no idea it wasn't okay until I saw James' face when I said it. He pulled me aside and asked if that's how my parents talked at home. He knew how some pureblood families are and gave me the benefit of the doubt AND explained things to Remus and Pete so they wouldn't think I was some snobbish git."

Lily felt that now-familiar stirring of curiosity about who James Potter was to his friends and family. The picture painted by Remus was of a loyal friend who kept and defended his secret, and Sirius described a friend who became a brother who looked after him when his own had abandoned him. Her own view of James Potter had been colored by a friendship that was no longer viable and informed by a source who was no longer a reliable narrator. Yes, he was annoying when he constantly praised her and asked her out, but was his bravado simply that? A facade he wore to hide the depth of feelings that made him feel vulnerable and awkward? And, he had actually stopped, now that she thought about it. It had been a good long while since he had asked her out. He had complimented a few times, but it had mostly been about her academic accomplishments or if she had done or said something nice for or about one of his friends. She had grown and changed since the day she found out she was a witch, to finding out that Remus was a werewolf, to the moment she had realized that she was unwilling to continue to ignore Severus' views, to the moment she had discovered that Sirius wasn't who she had thought. Maybe James had gone through a similar path? She had stopped excusing Severus' increasing darkness, and maybe James had stopped constantly asking her out for similar reasons?

Aloud, she mused, "That makes sense. How were you to know if you were never allowed to associate with anyone to tell you otherwise?"

"It's still a poor excuse. I don't know how anyone could see how good you are at everything magical and not understand that you're every bit as magical as me!"

She ruffled his hair, ignoring his halfhearted protests not to mess it up. "That is my favorite thing about you, New Friend."

Still patting his glossy black hair back into place, he said, "My hair? I know, me too. It's pretty much perfect,"

"Don't be a vain git. You know what I meant. I like that you're not prejudiced. That you respect me and people like me."

"Firstly, I am a vain git. Ask James, Remus, or Pete. Secondly, my capacity for talking about my feelings is just about maxed for the week, and thirdly, I've been on the wrong end of a Lily-hex and a healthy dose of respect and fear is more than appropriate. I don't care that your parents are Muggles, especially not when you can do things with Charms that even Remus can't figure out."

She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling. No wonder Remus liked him so much. He was entertaining to say the very least. "Sorry I taxed your capacity for talking about your feelings. I appreciate you listening to me. I need to tell you one more thing. I - I don't know if my mum told my sister about us coming for dinner. Petunia hates magic, always calls me a freak, and ... well, I just wanted you to be prepared if she's an utter bitch. It's not personal."

Sirius stood from the bench and collected their trash, offering Lily a hand. "Believe me when I tell you that I get the whole sibling thing. I promise not to purposely provoke Petunia," he said, popping each "P" with purpose.

She giggled. "Promise?"

"Positively. Now. Motorcycle? Please?"

She laughed. "Yes, motorcycle. Come along. We've got a bus to catch!"

"Hey, Lily?"

"Yes?"

"You know who else likes to talk about their feelings?"

"Am I going to regret asking who that might be?"

“James. It's James. There's a bloke you won't wear out with that subject. Of course, I think about 75 percent of his feelings in some way pertain to you, but ... there you go."

[lenific]

OUAT - Belle & Emma

Follows First Meetings

MOTHER TO MOTHER (Ao3)

The only fitting description for the Gold's backyard was of a toddler's paradise. The sprawling jungle gym alone would have been the dream of any kindergarten class, along with the wooden fort peeking from the copse of a sturdy oak and the slide under its shade.

Gideon Gold was the luckiest boy in Storybrooke.

"You know you'll never get away from hosting a big birthday party every year, right?" Emma told Belle one afternoon at the beginning of spring, when it was finally warm enough to bring the boys outside.

At the moment it was only Gideon slipping in and out of the plastic tunnels, glancing with hope at the ladders and nets but obediently keeping himself at ground level. Meanwhile Henry slept on, happy to doze in his pram while his uncle did the exploring.

Emma thought of a time when Henry would be old enough to join the adventure. By then Gideon would have friends his age at pre-school, and it wasn't hard to imagine a couple dozen of four-year-olds running around.

After three weeks as the newest resident in Storybrooke, the sheer number of little kids had astounded her. Once they found this private playground, there would be no keeping them away.

"Oh yeah, you won't need to even promise them a show to keep them interested," Emma said, chuckling. "There will already be a line of children at the door every day after school, hoping to be invited."

Sitting at her side on one of the broad benches supplied for supervising adults, Belle gave a little wistful smile. "It's unlikely any kid will resist the lure of an invitation, isn't it?" Then added in a somber tone. "No matter what their parents say."

That hadn't been the first sign that the Golds weren't the most beloved citizens in town, but it was the first time it struck Emma that people's opinion might spread onto the children.

"They don't really hate Gold that much, do they?" Belle raised an eyebrow in silent reproach, but Emma shrugged. "I know. I'm family; I should call him by his first name. But I just can't do that with a straight face. He doesn't look like an 'Aaron' at all!"

Belle considered that, and Emma started to worry she might have given offense, but then Belle started giggling. "It's the suits," she confided. "He's always so formal while he's wearing them."

Emma refused to ask the man's wife whether his attitude shifted when he wasn't. "It doesn't help that no one else seems aware that he can be called in any other way," she said instead, thinking of the aghast reactions she had gathered in her first week in Storybrooke, when she'd explained where she was staying. The inn owner had even offered a hefty discount for when she realized her mistake and fled the Victorian house. No one had even considered that Emma might feel sincerely welcome for the first time in years, or that she had enough experience to know the difference. "Imagine if I used Gold's name in public. I'm afraid I'd break someone's brain!"

Belle's eyes widened with mute laughter. "I've never had that problem," she said, amused.

Emma shook her head. "You married the man. They already know you're unhinged." The expression on Belle's face made her wish she could backpedal. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean... Hit too close home, didn't I?"

"People can be cruel," Belle said, letting out a long sigh. "When it came out that Aaron and I were seeing each other, there were several suggestions that I should return to therapy. Because obviously I wasn't yet over the grief of my mother's death."

Emma gaped.

"They didn't care that he was desperate for news of his son, or that he blamed himself for Bae's disappearance," Belle continued. "He was still in a bad place when we met. In fact, he had just walked away with my father's van that morning. The first time we talked, I was yelling at him for not waiting until the shipment of roses had been unloaded off the van. My father runs the flower shop; it was Valentine's Day. Can you imagine?"

"Sounds romantic."

Belle gave a little laugh. "God, it was anything but. At one point I threatened to destroy his shop, item by item, see how he liked it when his livelihood circled down the drain. He yelled back that he would have me thrown into a dungeon and lose the key if I so much as touched anything."

Emma had seen enough of the two of them to know where the story was going. They made a cute couple, always sure to be caught kissing and holding hands in the privacy of their home. But when their tempers were riled...

"You totally touched something."

"An antique tea set he'd put out on the counter for cleaning." Belle buried her face in her hands for a moment. "I only meant to make a point, prove his word wasn't law and that he could be defied, but then he startled me and..."

"Let me guess. That's why there's a tea set with a chipped cup in the cabinet." Emma smiled. "I was right. This is a romantic story."

"I'm glad someone thinks so. Everyone else caught wind of the argument. Once they heard we were dating, people decided that either Aaron was taking advantage of me or I was too broken to make a good choice, or both."

Emma cringed at the thought.

Raised in several homes across suburban neighborhoods where she'd never even had the chance to meet the people in the block before she was moved away, Emma had always thought of town life as an idyllic place with plenty of caring neighbors to look out for each other. It had been one of the factors that led her to accept Gold's proposal to move to Storybrooke after her unforeseen early release.

Since her arrival, people had been nosy, but everyone seemed too busy falling in love with Neal's child to pay much attention to his mother except to warn her about the heartless Mr. Gold.

Emma decided she liked it that way.

What Belle had just described was the flipside of having people know too much of each other's private affairs.

It sounded like a nightmare, and Emma was doubly incensed in the knowledge that Belle couldn't have deserved it.

"Bastards," she said with feeling. "I'm glad you didn't listen to them. Whatever gave them the right to judge!"

"That would have been my father," Belle told her, lips pulled into a bitter smile. "I'm sure Dr. Hopper would never have gossiped about our sessions."

Emma grimaced. "I'm sorry, but your father sounds awful."

Belle shrugged. "He insists he only had my welfare in mind. We try not to bring that up anymore, and I think he's truly happy for me now."

"Doesn't make him any less of a dick," Emma muttered.

Belle didn't seem to take offense at Emma's opinion. "Often forgiveness is the easiest route to take," she told Emma, then looked at her searchingly. "Maybe one day you'll find that out as well."

Unsaid went the last report from the team of investigators Gold had hired to find his son. If they were truly on the right track, Baelfire - or Neal, as Emma had known him during the months they lived together - might be returning home in the near future.

Forgiveness was the last thing on Emma's mind when she considered coming face to face with her child's father again.

Pursing her lips at the unwelcome thought, she looked away from Belle's hopeful expression. "Doubtful," she said curtly.

Belle didn't press. "Anyway. I'm telling you because sooner or later someone will question you about bringing your son to live with the monster of Storybrooke and his deranged wife."

Emma glanced back. "Seriously? Wow. They do hate Gold."

"They have long memories." Belle seemed to deliberate on what to say next, then let out a little sigh and checked quickly on Gideon to make sure he was out of hearing range. "The truth is, even Aaron will tell you he deserves their hate. It's foolish, of course. Everything happened years ago, and it's not as if he did anything illegal or that he enforced any clause the other party hadn't signed on their own will."

Emma smiled knowingly. "He fucked over the lot of them, didn't he?"

"Without a single regret," Belle confirmed. "Well, for some years at least. As he tells the story, in the beginning he was just trying to prove he could succeed outside his father's shadow; but eventually he lost sight of everything but the power of his position. It got to the point where there was only one person who kept pushing him to change his ways."

"Neal."

Belle nodded. "Baelfire believed his father could afford some leniency, that it wasn't necessary to hold the whole town in terror in order to turn up a profit. Aaron refused to consider the idea."

"And the idiot ran away." Emma snorted. "What a surprise."

Belle eyed her, obviously regretting the turn of their conversation. "He must have thought there was a good reason for it."

"Sure there was," Emma agreed, her eyes narrowing. "His daddy was too mean; his girlfriend was too clingy. Better to vanish into thin air and hell with consequences."

"Emma..."

"Look, it's okay. You don't have to defend him. I've already got the whole town telling me what a terrific boy he was; how sweet and polite and nothing at all like his father." Emma rolled her eyes. "And you know what? That's fine. I'm sure Neal didn't mean for me to get thrown in jail. That was me being stupid. And sure as hell I can't blame him for abandoning Henry when I had no idea I was pregnant. But like I said, consequences happened. And Neal? Nowhere close to deal with them."

Belle sighed. "Can I ask you not to talk like this in front of Aaron?"

"Too late."

On their first phone call, Emma had made sure to inform him that Neal - or whatever his real name was - was an undependable shit, and why should she put herself and an unborn kid into the hands of the man who had raised him?

She remembered his answer word by word: Because I'm also the man who hasn't given up on finding my son so we can be a family again.

Emma had always prided herself of her instinct when it came to detecting lies. When Gold said he valued family above all else, he meant it. Once she was certain of that, her other choices had come more easily.

She had yet to regret accepting his offer.

"Gold is okay," she told Belle, and the older woman nodded in wholehearted agreement, "a little rough around the edges, but his heart is in the right place. That's what matters."

Belle was staring at her with a wide smile. "I'm glad you came to us, Emma."

Physical shows of affection had never been high in Emma's personal list of preferences, but the soft pat of her arm seemed innocuous enough.

"Yeah, well," she said, only a little uncomfortable and not enough to grab Henry and return to the house. "You're not too bad either."

The End 10/02/17