#she's like Swan if Swan were a British woman

[fate-magical-girls]

Comparing fairy tales with their inspirations from legendary sagas produces a weird effect, because you can see where the stories have been simplified and the behavior of the protagonists sanitized.

The Goose Girl whose position was stolen by her handmaiden and was reduced to speaking to her beheaded horse Falada was a club-footed princess who originally agreed to switch places with her maid because she was self-conscious about her feet and feared her prince was short and ugly. She was also mother of Charlemagne.

The Goose Girl at the Well who was exiled for saying she loved her father like meat loves salt was a British queen who led an army to rescue her father who had been driven insane by her abusive sisters.

Sleeping Beauty, who was cursed to sleep for a hundred years, was a Valkyrie who masterminded the death of her prince when he was brainwashed into marrying another woman, and then threw herself onto his pyre so she could die with him.

The youngest brother of the Wild Swans, whose arm remained a swan wing because his sister ran out of thread to make the tunic that would break his curse, became a knight in a swan boat that avenged a noble maiden's honor and had children with her that would give rise to the royal line of Bouillon.

Cinderella was a successful courtesan and a self-made woman, who had no fairy god mother, but did have a fling with fable-teller Aesop as well as an epic rivalry with her sister-in-law, who happened to be one of the greatest poets of their age. Alternatively, she was a queen of Egypt to died before seeing her family enslaved by the mad Persian king Cambyses.

The mystical husbands of East of the Sun and West of the Moon, The Iron Stove, and the Feather of Finist the Falcon were originally the god Eros, and the Beauty that had to find her husband after losing him was his wife Psyche.

Often the animal husband takes the form of a snake. In certain myths among the indigenous Taiwanese, the animal husband is a snake and the ancestor of their people. In Baltic and Slavic stories, the snake husband is never accepted by his wife's family, who kill him through deceit. Meanwhile, a 9th century Chinese story makes the husband into a Yaksha, and the lovers are eventually parted because the wife cannot stay in the realm of the Yaksha.

Related to the animal husband theme, the Beast was a tragic man from Tenerife with hypertrichosis, and Beauty was a noblewoman who was married to him almost as a joke. Though they lived a long and happy life together, four of their seven children were stolen away and sent to live in foreign courts because they shared their father's condition.

The Girl Without Hands was a Mercian queen who ruled her nation with iron fists, and was involved in more than one assassination.

Maid Maleen's original name was Brangaine, the maid of Tristan and Iseult. In most variants of the tale, it is the guilty bride who substitutes her maid in the bridal procession to hide her loss of virginity that is the actual protagonist. When the prince questions her about the children she has born, she is forced to reveal the tokens that her lover left with her, and the prince realizes that he himself is the lover in question, and apologizes and proceeds with the wedding.

The speechless Little Mermaid's beloved prince was a Swedish duke, brother to the king, named Magnus Vasa. He was afflicted with psychotic episodes throughout his life, and had assistants assigned to look after him. He never married but had a longtime affair with a commoner woman who cared for him. During one of his episodes, he jumped into a moat, claiming to have seen a woman there. This became the basis for a class of ballads called Herr Magnus and the Mermaid, which describes how Magnus lost his heart and then his mind to the mermaid after initially rejecting her. This then became stories of the tragic mermaid's rejection and revenge.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Chapter Nineteen

               High end people gathered at the entrance of the Gala, boasting to one another with their success and how much money they had spent within the last few months. Their wives by their side eyeing the women that caught their husband’s attention - a few glancing at you. Majority of the people here were older people and none of them interested you.

               Security at the door greeted you and you hand him the matte black envelope that Price had given to you right before you got out the limo. Security nods at you and motions for you to go inside. The place was decorated in style. Elegant, but with a hint of over dramatics. A few ice sculptures in the form of swans were placed throughout the place. Frank Sinatra played faintly, but the chatter among the rich drowned the tunes out. Your eyes scanned the room over each individual hoping to lay eyes on your target.

               Chaperones swayed through the crowed holding small gold trays with flutes of champagne. One approached you and lowered his tray, inviting you to take a flute. Your hand wraps around the glass and you give a soft smile. Other chaperones lingered as well with silver trays topped with delicate finger foods – caviar covered crackers, olive and cheese toast and snails – which are a delicacy in Paris.

               A Scottish voice came through your ear, “You doing okay lass?”

               “Mhm.” Not wanting to draw attention to yourself from talking to no one and seeming crazy.

               Several minutes go by and your eyes finally rest on him. Anger and adrenaline resonated deep inside of you. Not wanting to approach him directly, you slowly make your way towards him making seductive glances. Michael was not one to be approached and you take the lead, he liked to come to you and feel like he is the man in charge. He walked with arrogance and felt like he was God’s gift to women.

               His eyes finally meet yours and then back to the gentleman he was talking to. Hook, line and sinker. The flute of champagne in your hands finds your mouth, while he takes another glance at you. Your lids lowered to an even more seductive look until you break eye contact and look in the other direction. You wanted him to feel like he was being rejected and just as well as you knew him, it worked.

               He shakes the gentleman’s hand that he is talking to, adjusts his expensive jacket to his suit and makes his way towards you. When you see him heading your way, you slowly walk off, glancing back at him and make your way towards the stone terrace. The air was crisp and light. You set your flute down onto the stone railing and wait. It was only a matter of time.

               The sound of soles hitting the stone terrace made your adrenaline rush even more.

               “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” His voice was the same as you last heard it. Another pet peeve he did was attempt to make his voice deeper to impress whatever whore he was trying to sleep with that night.

               “Mhm.” You’re still waiting for him to get hooked in. ‘Wait patiently’ you keep telling yourself.

               “Are you here with anyone?” He clears his throat, and you catch a hint of desperation in his voice. You got his attention, and he wasn’t leaving here without something from you. That’s Michael.

               “No.” Firm but not too off putting.

               “British?! My favorite.” Bullshit. Any accent on a woman that he wants to fuck is his ‘favorite’. You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and turn to look at him. ‘Play along’.

               “Is that so?” The playfulness in your voice made his eyes grow hungry.

               “You could have gone Scottish” Soap jokes into your earpiece. “She knows what the superior language is.” Price chimes in and you’re trying your hardest to keep from laughing. A smile crept on your face and was quickly wiped away when you heard him speak, “Good girl”. You take another sip from your flute and hear someone clear their throat in your earpiece. It was obvious they felt awkward.

               Your mind gets pulled back to the mission at hand, “Absolutely doll. I’ve been there a few times” he pauses, “For business reasons.”

               Without hesitation you ask, “What do you do for work?”

               He leans in a little closer to you, “Lets just say, I uh, I help people.” He pulls back and looks at you with a sinister grin.

               “A knight in shining armor” you pause taking another sip, “Men like you are hard to come by these days.” The amount of disgust falls over you as you know he is eating this all up.

               A chaperone holding flutes of champagne makes his way outside and Michael motions for him to come over to us. He grabs two glasses and the chaperone leaves. Michael hands you one glass noticing that you were almost done with your first one. You grab it and make a mental note to watch your glass and to not leave it unattended. You’ve never known Michael to drug someone, but this mission was too important to not take any chances.

               After taking a few sips he looks back at you, “So what do you do beautiful?” Hunger and lust in his eyes.

               “I design women’s lingerie.” Those words came out more seductive than you wanted. His eyes gleam as he takes another sip but keeping his eyes on you.

               “But” you continue, “My other business is selling high end weapons.”

               His eyes narrow almost in disbelief, “Why both businesses?”

               Shit. You had to think of something fast, “Women’s lingerie is a cover up to the weapons trade business. Its under the radar and you know people tend to put you on the radar whenever you’re making money with nothing to prove.”

               He’s not buying it, “But couldn’t they see your profit and notice that sales with lingerie are not matching your productivity?”

               Without skipping a beat, you reply with a smirk, “Precisely, that’s why the weapons trade is under the table.” Your eyes remain on his as you take a sip.

               His eyes go from disbelief back to hunger, “That’s smart” he says pointing his finger at you.

               You tip the flute in your hand towards him telling him without words, ‘I know’.

               A soft silence grew between you and just as you were about to speak, he beat you to it, “I do apologize. We have been talking this whole time and I never told you my name.” You look at him and wait, “Michael. Michael Gravely”.

               You cock your head to the side, “Very American.” A soft chuckle escapes his lips. You take another sip from your flute, “Vanessa. Vanessa Riley.” He takes your free hand, cups it, and brings it to his lips and kisses the top of your hand lightly. He looks up at you, “Vanessa Riley. The lingerie and weapons dealer.” You had to admit, he was smooth.

               “The one and only.” You say. He tips his flute towards you, and you clink yours with his.

               “I am very interested in your line of work.” His dark tone sent shivers down your spine.

               To lighten the mood you humor back, “Lingerie? I took you as a boxer brief kind of guy.” Michael throws his head back and laughs. “Negative dear.”

               You see him pull out his phone. Jackpot. “Can I get your number?” Your eyes glued to his, “This isn’t just about the weapons ordeal, I would also like for you to join me at the next Gala.” He pauses, “As my date.”

               You swallowed hard. “Absolutely” you muster out with a forced smile.

               Michael hands over his phone with the dial pad already up so you can put in your phone number.

               “What’s wrong?” His voice had a bit of frustration.

               “Sorry, I got a new number recently and I’m trying to remember it.”

               The earpiece in your ear came to life, “Two, Eight, Two, Three, Seven, Six, Five, Two, Seven, Seven.” You punched the numbers and handed the phone back to him with a smile.

               “I look forward to talking with you.” He takes a sip from his flute and walks off. A few minutes go by, and Price’s voice fills your ear, “We got it Harley. You can head back to the limo.”

               “What’s his room number?” Determination fell over you and you weren’t quite done yet.

               Silence surrounded you from hesitation on the other end, “For what?” Ghost’s voice was deep and threatening.

               Air leaves your nostrils as you chuckle, “Because I’m trying to fuck him.” It was a joke, but due to not hearing anything back, nobody thought it was funny.  “It was a joke guys, geez. Michael brings his laptop everywhere with him. I know he has some intel on there. If I could just find his room, I could access it and put a software on there without him knowing and we can see what he is up to.”

               “Negative Reaper. That’s too risky.” Soap sounded worried.

               “If none of you will help me, I’ll just go ask him myself.”

               A loud sigh came through the earpiece so loud it felt like someone was breathing in your ear, “Fine. Give me a minute.” Frustration in Gaz’s voice. Almost a minute later, “Room 4063. Fourth floor, last door on your right.”

               “Thanks Gaz!” He mumbled something you couldn’t explain, and you walked back into the Gala and towards the elevators. A petite woman wearing an elegant satin dress looked around and seemed out of place caught your eye. You needed a distraction, so you approached her, “Excuse me” she looks at you. “You seem a like you’re not from here.”

               She takes a huge gulp from her glass. You took note of the brown liquid coating the clear ice in her glass. Bourbon. “I-I’m not. I came here with my date, but he seemed to have found eyes for someone else.” She raises her glass and points it in the direction of a man with his hand on the lower back of another woman.

               You lean in close, “I may not be the best advice giver for love, but I do know that the gentleman over there by bar hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you.” Your eyes lead her to Michael. “Go over there and talk with him. Don’t let that piece of shit ruin your night.” She throws her head back and the last bit of bourbon disappeared from the glass. She nodded at you and walked towards him.

               You took this opportunity to head towards the elevators, looking over peoples shoulders to see him distracted by the random woman. Fucker. He never knew how to pass up pussy. The elevator doors open, you step inside, press the number four and the doors close.

               “You have anything on you?” Price asks.

               Your fingers reached down to your left thigh that was covered by your dress, “Yes. I have a couple knives on me.”

               Price laughs, “Sounds like you wore the perfect color dress for the occasion.”

               “That was the point.” The elevator doors open, and you head right just like Gaz said to Michaels room. You get to the door and curse, “Fuck! It’s a mechanical lock.” A loud whisper leaves your mouth.

               “Give me a second.” Gaz types loudly on the keyboard. The door clicked and you entered in the room. “Thanks Gaz.” Your voice still in a whisper.

               The room was clean, but that was the type of person Michael was. The king bed was against the wall to the right of the room. The bathroom door faced the bed. Two French doors in front of you that lead to a balcony and across from the bed, a desk with a laptop.

               “Its here” you whisper out.

               Opening the laptop, a password was required for you to put in. If Michael was still the same person, he never changed his passwords. Your fingers typed ‘Deserteagle’ across the keys. You clicked enter and a picture of him popped up as his wallpaper. You roll your eyes at his arrogance and go to the internet.

               “Gaz, give me the I.P. address to that laptop.” Your voice still in a low whisper.

               Keys click in your ear, “17.172.224.47.”

               You type those numbers in, wait as the computer screen blacks out and comes back on.

               “Oh my God Harley. You did it!” Excitement through Gaz’s voice. You heard the rest of the guys congratulate you, except for Ghost.

               You delete your history, sign out and close the laptop – not wanting him to be suspicious. Anxiety filled your chest when you see someone out the corner of your eye.

               “Mrs. Riley huh?”

               A smile formed on your face as you turned around, “It was the only thing that came to mind.” You cock your head to the side in a flirtatious way. “Where did you come from?”

               Ghost looks back behind him to the balcony. Each step he takes towards you, the heat between your legs becomes more intense, preying on you. You slowly back up until your ass hits the desk. His amber eyes piercing through your green ones. He stops dangerously in front of you. Your eyes drop when he presses into you, but then they slowly find their way back to his.

               Your breathing deepened as this was the only thing controlling you from not devouring this man and letting him do whatever he wants to do to you. Hearing him breathe heavier made you throb. You slowly reach up with your right hand to his mask. He quickly grabs your wrist and holds it firmly in place. His eyes darkening from lust. You needed him and you knew with every ounce of you, he needed you.

               You furrowed your brows that made your face say the one thing he was needing ‘please’. He snatches your wrist to the left, making your back press into his front and grabs the back of your neck, slamming you down on the desk. A moan escaped your lips as he held you in place firmly by your neck. He held you there bent over as he pressed himself against your ass.

               “Give me your hands.” The darkening lusted tone in his voice made your knees weak. You quickly place your hands behind your back and he crosses your wrists, holding your hands there with his huge hand. He teases you by pressing himself against you again, making a breathy moan come out of your mouth.

               “Don’t move.” And you wouldn’t dare. The firm grip on your neck left and a whimper came out of your throat. The sound of his zipper felt like the wetness between your legs was going to run down. Desperation built in you when you heard him spit in his hand. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt your dress being pulled up over your ass. He lifted your hands that he held behind your back and tucked the fabric under to hold your dress in place.

               A breathy moan left you when you felt him against your wet entrance. A familiar hand replaces itself on your neck and holds firmly.

               “Is this what you have been wanting?” Your eyes roll not only from those words, but from hearing the need in his voice.

               You breathe out, “Yes.”

               His grip around your neck tightens even more, “Yes what?” He growls through gritted teeth.

               You take in a breath, “Yes sir.” Euphoria filled your mind when you felt him press into you. As you moaned out, you heard him growl and his grip tightened around your wrists. He stays there for a few seconds before pulling almost all the way out and slamming into you. The desk bites at your hips and a cry comes from your mouth. You needed more.

               With each forceful thrust, a deep grunt came from him, and your moans were like music to his ears. He removes his hand from the back of your neck, reaches around and grips your throat. In one motion, he picks you up and presses you against him.

               He continues to slide his thick cock in and out of your soaking pussy. “Do you like the way I make you feel?” His deep voice in your ear. You press the back of your head into his chest, and he holds you there.

               “Yes sir.” Your breathy moans were escaping your lips with every thrust he made into you.

               “That’s my girl” he continues to taunt in your ear. Between hearing his deep growls in your ear and him calling you his, a tingling feeling made itself known deep in your pussy.

               Just as the feeling intensified, he removes himself and turns you around to face him. He lifts his mask just enough like he did last night when he smoked his cigarette. You throw your arms around his neck and collide your lips to his. His arms find your hips. He picks you up and sets you down on the desk as you moan into his mouth. His tongue finds yours as he deepens the kiss. Heavy breathing between the two of you only excited you both more. He pulls you towards him to where you were on the edge of this desk.

               He takes his hand, wraps it around your throat forcing your back against the desk, breaking the kiss. Blood filled your head as your head hung off the side and the grip of his hand tightening on your throat.

               Your head tries to shoots up when you feel his cock renter you, spreading your wet walls, but he held you down. Your pussy coated his thick cock in your sweet glistening wetness. Your breathy moans now became louder with each thrust inside of you. He wasn’t gentle, but this is how you wanted it. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the tingling feeling made itself known again.

               “Look at me” he demands.

               You look up. Your green eyes met his amber. Your brows furrow from his cock fucking your tight pussy, but also because he was no longer wearing his mask. You were starstruck at him.

               “I want you to see who’s fucking you” he grunts as he continues to fill you.

               Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you drop your head back down over the desk. It was too much. Too much ecstasy.

               He thrusts harder making you moan louder, “I want you to see who you belong to.”

               Your pussy pulsated around his cock as you were on the verge of bliss.

               “Who does this pussy belong to?” His voice becoming darker and his cock fucking you harder.

               “You” you moan out. Your vision was becoming blurry.

               His thrust became harder and faster, “Who do you belong to?”

               “You”

               “Say my name baby” You could tell he was close. His voice becoming hoarse.

               “G-ghost.” He removes his hand from your throat, slaps you hard across the face and grabs your throat again.

               “Say.My.Name” he grunts as he is fucks you.

               “S-Simon!” you scream out. Your pussy clenched around his cock and that was enough to throw him over. Your moans were loud as he came inside you and continued to thrust out his orgasm. Pushing his come deep inside you. You laid there on the desk, breathing hard as his breathing matched yours. His cock still inside you. He removes his hand from your throat and grabs the back of your neck to pull you up.

               Your face in front of his and you collide your lips to him. Just as before, he deepens the kiss. A few moments later, he pulls away and pulls out of you. He tucks himself back in and you snort.

               “What?” he asked confused. You point to his groin and see he has your residue on his black pants. You look up and smile. You pick up his mask and hand it to him. He puts the mask back on and you get off the desk.

               Ghost grabs your hand and walks you to the balcony. “Want a ride?” The humor in his voice made you giddy. You nod your head, and he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He sits on the ledge of the balcony, grabs the black rope, and slides down. Butterflies flew in your stomach that reminded you of when you rode rollercoasters. He sets you down once you reach the ground, he jerks the rope, causing it to fall. He wraps it up and you both head to the limo.

               “The name suits you” Ghost says out of the blue. You look at him confused, “Mrs. Riley.” You stop walking and your eyes grow wide. The thought of marriage made you sick to your stomach, but the quick thought of you married to him made your heart soar.

               The limo was out of sight and luckily no one noticed you two walking out of a wooded area. He opens the limo door, and you slide in, he follows and sits beside you.

               The grin on your face was instantly wiped away when you look up and seen Price, Soap and Gaz looking at you both wide eyed.

               Your eyes scanned over their faces and then color drained from your face.

               Your earpiece. They heard…everything.

[umgatochamadopercyval]

Diamond of the sea (James Norrington)

Chapter 1

“Miss Genevieve, may I come in?”

The maid’s voice was a distant thing for Genevieve, who was still well into the dream realm. It was only after being gently shaken that the young woman woke up.

"Good morning Jane" 

she greeted stretching her arms lazily, after moving out of the enormous bed she laid moments ago

"The bath and water are already ready at the washroom for you Miss, alongside the herbs paste you requested" 

the young maid explained while opening the heavy curtains, and allowing sunlight into the spacious room

After eight years living with the Governor, it was easy to think she was Elizabeth's sister, raised to be a proper lady in British society. If it wasn't the fact they were the same age, and Genevive didn't quite look like the family, no one would suspect a thing.

"That is lovely to hear, thank you. I will call for your presence when I’m finished” 

she dismissed before closing the door.

When she entered the washroom, the bathtub was already prepared for her, with cold water filling it to its middle, and in a stool at its side there was a jar of natural water and a small bowl filled with a slime green goo that smelled of seaweed and camomile.

Stripping of her nightgown, Genevive let herself drown in the water, and in seconds instead of her legs there was a sparkling golden mermaid tail, with translucent fins at the end of it, shimmering like gold when the sun passed on it, that matched her hair. With a natural fiber sponge, she cleaned her upper body and face, and later, more carefully, her tail and hair, making sure to not break the skin but also rubbing strong enough to clean it. 

Something about mermaids that most of the stories got true was how fast they weakened at the sun. If they didn’t receive enough water their skin would burn and not long after the mermaid would die. That was one of the reasons they usually liked dark spaces to live in. However, disguising as a human with the Swans, she could not afford that privilege, so as a habit she liked to start her days taking a cold bath, and drinking a full jar of water, which usually was enough. 

She dived her head and cleaned the last bits of goo out of her face and body, feeling ready to end her bath. Using her arms, she lifted herself to the board of the tub and when her tail melted away with a familiar sting, she stepped out of it and draped herself with a towel. 

After that it was the normal process of getting ready for the day: Jane would help her dress herself, this time with something uncomfortable called “corset”, that apparently was the high fashion in London, but she would not make a fuss given it had a new dress with it and more importantly it was a direct request from the Governor.

“You outdone yourself today Jane. It’s impressive” she thanked her, looking one last time at the mirror, and seeing how the blue in the dress complimented her grass green eyes and porcelain skin. 

“Vive, are you ready?” Lizzie voice sounded from the door, a soft knock before

“Lizzie, good morning darling” the door closed with a soft closing 

“Are you feeling nervous for today’s ceremony?” she gossiped while they descended the stairs 

“A bit, actually. Father gave me this new dress and it’s impossible to breathe with the undergarments”

“You look stunning with it though” she reassured her best friend, giving her hand a slight squeeze, before the last steps of the long stair. 

“Elizabeth, Genevieve" Governor Swan greeted “You look absolutely stunning”

“Will” Elizabeth’s face lit up seeing the blacksmith apprentice “It’s so good to see you” a bright smile accompanying the words “I had a dream about you last night” Genevive internally let out a sight, their feelings were obvious to everyone but themselves

“About me?” the boy questioned nervous 

“Is that proper for you…” Weatherby looked uncomfortable

“About the day we met. Do you remember?”

He almost died, and was given a fresh start, he certainly remembers. Lovely start for a conversation. 

“How could I forget Miss Swann?” He smiled charmingly 

“How many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?” Lizzie playfully asked 

“At least once more, Miss Swann. As always” he declined politely, but his eyes were regretful, and she seemed unpleased with his awnser, contrary to her father

“There. See? At least the boy has a sense of propriety. We really must be going”

“Good day, Mr. Turner” was the cold goodbye her sister gave, which obviously confused the poor young man. 

“Have a good day, Mr. Turner” was Genevives’s, although hers was warmer in tone.

“Come along” was the Governor’s cue that the carriage was already waiting for them. 

Outside the house the sun shone brightly on their heads, and they soon were inside the vehicle on their way. 

“You should be less harsh on him, Lizzie. Mr. Turner is always polite with you” she whispered to the other, once they were getting to their destination. 

And that was chapter 1.

(@luciadiosa I'm seeing you reading this and I'm waiting your mermaid fic hahahaha)

[hbcsource]

Helena Bonham Carter’s Harper’s Bazaar UK interview | February 2023

A WOMAN SCORNED Helena Bonham Carter tells Lydia Slater why her latest role, exploring the life of the 1970s soapstar Noele Gordon, feels like restorative justice Those of a certain vintage may remember the ponderous sequence of nine guitar notes that were the signal to cluster around the television for Crossroads. Set in a Midlands motel, the soap was much derided for its flimsy sets, implausible storylines and clunky dialogue; nevertheless, in the mid-Seventies, the series was attracting 15 million viewers, and battling Coronation Street for ratings supremacy. The unquestioned star of the show was Noele Gordon, known to the nation as Nolly, who played the matriarchal, auburn-haired motel owner Meg Richardson (later Mortimer). The role had been created with Gordon in mind, and she remained Crossroads’ most popular character from the show’s launch in 1964 until 1981, when she was suddenly sacked. Her defenestration, and the reasons behind it, are the premise on which Russell T Davies has based his new three-part series, Nolly. ‘One of my very first jobs in TV was a trial script for Crossroads, and I’ve wanted to write the story of behind the scenes on that show for 40 years,’ he said. ‘Russell has always been a real supporter of the underdog,’ says Helena Bonham Carter, who portrays Gordon, complete with coiffure and carefully modulated accent. ‘He thought Nolly was really badly treated, and I think he wanted to give her the send-off and the recognition she deserved.’ Bonham Carter was ‘very aware’ of the soap as a child. ‘It was part of the perma-wallpaper, and I knew all the characters.’ She was immediately drawn to the complexity of the woman in Davies’ screenplay. ‘Nolly was a highly complicated character and a mix of many things – and not an easy mix,’ she says. ‘But I love playing people who are complex.’ Gordon was a child stage star who came from a modest background. She trained at Rada and went on to work both behind and in front of the television camera, becoming Britain’s first female TV executive; she helped Ned Sherrin and Reg Watson launch ATV Midlands in 1956, and was the first woman to interview a British prime minister when Harold Macmillan appeared on her chat show. Steeped in the workings of daytime television, Gordon was unafraid to voice her opinions on how things should be done on Crossroads. ‘She was outspoken, she was herself, she was utterly authentic,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘I think, frankly, she terrified the people who ran the show. And she was punished for that. It’s not new, is it, that women aren’t allowed to have a strong voice?’ Certainly, the first episode presents the ‘Queen of the Midlands’ as a daunting figure, swanning to the studios in mink coat and Rolls-Royce, changing a new character’s accent from Brummie to RP (in the teeth of the producer’s protests), and then playing an on-screen practical joke on the same rookie performer, after she dared to cast doubt on Gordon’s assertions of the programme’s popularity. But the series also shows how Gordon was greatly loved and respected by (most of) the people she worked with – particularly the actor Tony Adams. He played the motel’s suave, moustachioed accountant, Adam Chance, and in reality not only rented a flat from Nolly but was her closest ally – for, having been jilted by her fiancé, she never married or had children. ‘The show gave her a real sense of identity, belonging and purpose,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘She said she had two lives, as Meg Mortimer and Noele Gordon. And whenever she went to a hotel or a restaurant, inevitably they would take her to inspect the kitchen… the line was very smudged.’ As a result, Gordon lost far more than just her job when Charles Denton, the incoming controller of programmes at ATV, informed her agent that ‘all good things must come to an end’, a decision that this series lays squarely at the door of misogyny and ageism. ‘I think Nolly is quite right when she says, “You wouldn’t have sacked me if I’d been a man”,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘Men are allowed to be difficult and dictatorial. It really feels like Greek tragedy – she’s cut off in her prime.’ Gordon refused to take the decision lying down and complained to the press, resulting in national headlines, and sackfuls of irate letters sent to ATV from her devoted fans, while the series shows how producers retaliated by declining to tell Gordon how she would be written out and going to the extent of staging her fake funeral. Bonham Carter herself has never joined a long-running franchise. ‘Even after just two seasons with The Crown, by the end, with the best will in the world, you’re beginning to get a bit automatic – and if you’re faintly bored, it’s time to move on.’ Fortunately, at 56, her own career is as busy and diverse as ever. ‘We might have less collagen, but we’re much more interesting when we’re over 50,’ she says, with a laugh. ‘Life makes you more interesting, you’ve got more depth, the map of the soul is so much bigger if you’ve survived.’ Sadly, Gordon did not. She died of cancer in 1985, just four years after her sacking, while Crossroads itself only limped on until 1988. This charming series, and Bonham Carter’s portrayal, are a worthy tribute to a national treasure, and an overdue acknowledgment of the unjust treatment meted out to her.

[fumblingmusings]

What is going through francis' mind when evelyn pushes him away from matthew? Is he just annoyed with evelyn for acting like he would somehow make things worse when he was trying to help or does it sting a bit that he is no longer seen as even being an older brother to matthew? What are their interactions like? I know they're preoccupied with the war and are all allies but having the whole face family together at that point seems like it would be incredibly awkward. At least evelyn and francis had a sweet moment but i imagine it's strained at times.

He thinks she's being very childish and unhelpful. She isn't pushing him away because it's Francis particularly - she's just lashing out and in that instinctive maternal 'anyone who touches my kid wants to harm them' mindset - like what you see in things like swans when they think their babies are going to be hurt. Oftentimes it is very unhelpful to have the parent flapping and hissing in the background, but they genuinely don't know any better, or they're just in a complete blind panic.

At the same time, she let's Alfred get closer, so again, it's obvious she is not exactly facing up to facts on who is on her side, and at this point in time it is not America. I think it's rather undervalued how much the French and British troops really needed and relied on each other and worked together. The Americans and the (lack of) integration into Allied Forces was a real bone of contention. Evelyn's not got her right head screwed on in that moment - she's in Eva mode, not England mode, if that makes sense. It annoys Francis because she always has the wrong head on at the wrong moment. She can be excellent in a crisis, but only when it pertains to herself. The minute someone else gets involved she is a bit useless.

I think they were both kind of surprised that the Entente ended up working out as well as it did. They are both old as fuck as they are both prone to melancholia, so there are times were they just sit and bond over going 'what the fuck have we done to the world?' you know? But then Francis is more likely to go 'Ah. C'est la vie' and get going whereas Evelyn is more likely to not let it go.

Having said that... The French really went through it in WWI. 70% of those who went off to fight came back injured, or never came back at all. The British Empire's figure, as far as I can see, is around 35%. (The US stat is 8% - like I really can't explain how much WWI wrecked Europe). So for France it's: a fifth of the entire population goes off to fight, and 15% of the entire population are either dead or injured one way or another by the end, and those that do come back 'unharmed' may be carrying trauma of their own. My numbers are probably off. But. Considering France already had an ageing population in 1914... like it's just really hard to verbalise how much the war completely fucked with France's people, and its land.

Francis is hurting badly, and he's getting like no emotional support from the woman who's his closest ally, because she's flapping around being generally unhelpful giving doe eyes towards a kid who's still really wary of her. Francis is more practical than her, but we all know in canon Francis loves to be known as big brother. His actual attempts to act brotherly however... need work. But the big brother angle can very much be read as 'exerting influence without having having to do any actual caretaking'. He wants to have his cake and eat it too without putting in any of the emotional labour that... well. He's a bit sad that Matthew isn't exactly clamouring for his attention, but he's not vain enough to not understand why. For all Evelyn's faults, she certainly allows herself to be weak for her kids. Over and over again sentimentality is her downfall. No-one could ever accuse Francis of the same.

Francis has a better grip on what it is to be a nation and is more compelling on a larger group; Evelyn has a better grasp on what it is to be human and is more compelling one on one. I think that's a neat way to differentiate them.

[sashaisnotokay]

Here we go, a little soft romantic drabble about Watari’s past inspired by snowstorm behind my window. Forgive me if it’s too sweet. We have enough sourness in our everyday lives, I believe.

❄️

Quillsh Wammy, an unmarried British young man from a respected family, was attending a Swan lake ballet in Saint-Petersburg theatre.

Being raised in a very traditional, wealthy and well-known (in certain circles) family was not only giving great opportunities, but also responsibilities. Firm, kind and calm, (but very passionate when it’s about science) Quillsh was dealing great with his family’s expectations. Except in one area. Marriage.

Young handsome man, known for his sharp mind and kind heart, didn’t experience the lack of female attention. In fact, he liked many women... but never had a wish to marry any of them.

Still, the pressure from the family has continued. He was introduced to a famous Russian ballerina - Anna. She was graceful, beautiful and smart. After a dinner together, Anna (being very interested in him, although, trying her best not to show it) invited him to her performance. He gladly accepted an invitation.

And here he was, in snowy Saint-Petersburg, with weirdly mixed feeling of being out of place and... anticipation.

First part was over, and Quillsh has quit the cold hall only to find a theatre cafe being full of people. His throat has started to hurt, so he had to drink something hot.

He turned away from the loud crowd, took his coat and got out on the street.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky silently and lightly. There was no wind. Car horns and usual city sounds seemed to be muted. Quillsh stopped for a moment and looked up. This moment felt like magic, and later in life he will return to this moment in his memory. He will think, that maybe this really was some kind of magic, because only moments later he will find something he was never actually seeking, but was always unconsciously wishing for.

There was a little cafe across the street.

Quillsh has made a decision immediately and ran across the street, careful not to slip. When he opened the door, a wave of warm deliciously smelling air reached him. It was quiet, with only few people in the cafe. Quillsh has come to the counter. A young woman put away her book and turned to him.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

Calm voice. Shoulder length light brown hair. Soft facial features. Ordinary looking person. But still, she looked... different. What was so unusual about her? Quillsh couldn’t define.

“One cup of tea, please” said he in Russian, pulling out his wallet, “with milk. That’s it”.

The woman gave Quillsh a fast curious glance.

“May I ask, are you from England?”

“Yes” Quillsh answered quite surprised, “I am from Southampton”.

The woman noticed Quillsh’s surprised look and smiled.

“People don’t add milk to tea here. But another way I never would’ve guessed - your Russian is perfect”.

“Thank you. But I think I do look like a foreigner, considering how unprepared I am for Russian winter”, Quillsh looked down on his boots now wet from melted snow.

“Oh, that’s not surprising”, the woman replied, “You were attending the theatre, didn’t you? No one wears warm clothes to the theatre”. She returned him a change, “Please, take a sit, I will bring you your tea”.

Quillsh choose a little table for two near the window and sat down. Light snowflakes were still flying over the city so beautifully and peacefully, but his attention was captured by the woman at the counter, who was now making his tea. Precise movements, careful not to spill a drop. Brown eyes looking peaceful and curious. Soft voice saying goodbye to leaving customers. Pale hands with elegant silver watch, bringing him his cup of tea.

“Here you are” she said, putting a cup of tea on his table.

“Thank you” Quillsh replied.

It was so simple, but there was no much else needed. The tea was warming up his throat and reducing the pain. Quillsh looked at his watch. He had 5 more minutes. He had to go. His planned date with Anna started to lose its meaning, but as a responsible man, he had to be there - he promised. But Quillsh knew he will return. There was something in that woman, that he has never seen in another women before... He didn’t know what this was, but felt committed to find out.

He stood up, ready to go.

She looked at him.

“May I know your name?” asked Quillsh.

“Vera” she replied.

“Thank you. Goodbye”.

“Goodbye”.

And he was gone.

Later, when Quillsh Wammy remembered his first encounter with his dear wife, he finally was able to give that special feeling a name. That feeling made letting go of a chance to marry a famous ballerina so easy, and helped Quillsh to understand he made a right choice when his family turned their backs to him after marrying “a lower-class woman”. The feeling that made him to return to the little cafe the very next day.

He felt she was his home.

[libidomechanica]

A desart wilderness will believeth all she laughed

From vice, but by no crime accurst; as beauteous, not     as one came near with time and trials, and thriftye stockes, great freendes and full of silver lamp,     whose phosphor glow reflected in the gutter yet I cannot dispraise but in the     Zodiac run, ever in motion; now tis she. The feeling dwells alone, deaf to his breast     houseless: ay, it must not be vain,

and make me hotter, till she prayed, for still my mother     in the swans that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquence in language strange Poet-princess,     O my princess Ida seemed a hollow and dash myself as fingers number all     yours, now—but you may lose your pains may only make the dark crag: and this is why I sojourn     here alone and so they shall be

dear to her; for her seal, and meant thereby beauty     from me. Been bound these fourteen years, by strong infection no bitterness that make that striues     to touch her garment was as sure, as those tremulous eyes the tears of missing each other     far doth roam, it leans, and how she could, were it but with God’s still voice; as an old friend     is beckoned to a feast, and leany

knaues, their welfare is a great deeds for issue, yet     may live to hate me yet. Warm breath, whose stake is nothing from the fire on the immortal     things come into relations bear a part, if mercifully gave, that, while the pony’s worth     his weight in the ghastly pit long since, I know not, cannot be let go. Could be written     into wood, and I will keep a heart

to leave to go. Which can turn in a minute. Search     narrowly the ledger lives, in wonder fearingly, but Orpheus-like at an     Eurydice; for she was no dream; or say a dream the ever-smitten Hermes thought patience     and away. Soon was setting on the bright in the envious race, like a sharp spear, went     through which to feede, they but perfume. Nor

debar’d from Beauties treasure, let not Woman e’er     complaint of present their triumph was all a sweeter blood by the hearing, I address’d     me like a hurt dog at my side my ministering her self the shape of dazzling hue,     vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and there greatness was shut out, and infest with a stony     British stare. No less amorous boy;

like Daphne she, as well she knew, to Corinth, ask’d     her second Eve, but do not so; I love so suddenly; and in few lives, in liberty.     And she exclaimed, peace, you young soul, the fix’d foot, Philoctetes in woman’s form by     silent bars to climbe. Word scarce any retrospection in heaven. A knell to mine, ere     yet their time befalls. Sugarcane, in

love with care descended to the doctor’s door, she     lifts the knot. Her body still retain my buff and blue; striped like a zebra, freckled like     a silent voices, even for me, since mourning eyes, they shall be sportive as the     firmament, or like a climber for here in their last, while thine arms, here at the lie and the     river sloped to plunge and strike, if

he could give the world thou canst not ask me nothing     said to the gaudy spring, with my lines my life! And grow for me? As the field-flowers     too rough, what taste of purest light which my words masculine persuasive force begot in     the suddenly when I realize I’m not breathes round in earth forget him, you and I,     tonight. At poor old Susan rise up

from the Queen’s decease, his tender, and he righteous     ban of all shepheards welth: when folke bene fat, and what she can’t forget: the time, for aught     we know her woof, her texture, from the image of a God. To sever for years, pale grew     her immortality, for to stand thy faithful friend, and dinted into the town she     hies, but with a sheepe the Altars

hallowing. When I do come, she will spy in thy gain.     With! You plainly in her eyes I used to walk in expectation, thus began my song,     and with wan from lack of moisture quite forgot; nor blam’d for sinfull deed; and the lame; want     and dismay. We two, how long we were fool’d, now transmuted, we slide into a forest     on the low. Lest she should I greet thee?

[delemenko]

Lemme shitpost about my OCs for a little.

[justiceamberheard]

Everything wrong with Johnny Depp.

1. MARCH (1989)

Johnny Depp, 25, was arrested and held in custody for three hours early Wednesday after police answered a noisy party complaint at a hotel in the West End section of Vancouver, where '21 Jump Street' is filmed. The trouble started when a security guard asked a group of people to leave the hotel and Depp allegedly then assaulted the guard. Telephones in the hotel lobby also were damaged in the incident. Depp was released after promising to appear in court April 12.

Actor Johnny Depp got off scot-free with an absolute discharge after pleading guilty in a Vancouver, British Colombia, court to an assault charge. Depp’s lawyer, Richard Israels, told provincial court his client regrets the incident. The lawyer said Depp overreacted during a discussion with the guard.

2. 1989

Jennifer Grey, Johnny Depp’s fiance: She said that Depp proposed to her within two weeks of meeting her and they got a pekinese-poodle puppy called Lulu.

He’d started missing his flights home to LA having overslept or, when he did come home, he’d be crazy jealous and paranoid about what I’d been up to while he was gone.

3. SEPTEMBER (1994)

JOHNNY DEPP, the star of "Edward Scissorhands" and "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" was arrested early yesterday and accused of smashing furniture and glass in his room at the Mark Hotel on East 77th Street, but officials said charges of felony criminal mischief would be dropped after he pays $9,767 for the damages.

Police Officer EILEEN PEREZ, who responded to a call by the hotel at 5:30 A.M., described the scene she found in Room 1410. "We opened the door and there was Depp sitting there, smoking a cigarette, cool and calm," she said. His girlfriend, the model Kate Moss, was with him, the officer said.

"There was glass all over the place and furniture upside down and broken table legs," she continued.

As he was taken to the 19th Precinct station house, she related, Mr. Depp said to another officer, referring to Officer Perez: "I don't think she likes me. But if she saw me at a mall, I bet she would ask me for an autograph."

"No, Johnny," Officer Perez responded, "I don't think so."

4. LORI ANNE ALLISON (1988).

Sources say he paid his first wife, Lori Anne Allison, $1.25 million to keep quiet after he allegedly left a long ranting message in which he repeatedly used the N-word. The previously unreported settlement was accomplished using fictitious names to avoid scrutiny, with Richard Green serving as the stand-in for Johnny Depp.

5. WINONA RYDER(1989-1993).

During the filming of Black Swan in 2010, Ryder was quoted as saying: "The scene where I trash my dressing room was my last scene. I remember my first boyfriend used to smash everything—at eighteen, everything is dramatic." While she doesn't explicitly name Depp, the timeline fits.

6. KATE MOSS (1998)

‘’I was with Kate, and I think he went straight for the romance jugular, shit like whether I beat her enough. I probably told him, ‘Yeah, she gets a severe beating.'”

7. ELLEN BARKIN (1998).

Mr Depp threw a bottle across the room in her presense. ‘’He is just controlling, jealous man.’’ Actress Ellen Barkin claims Johnny Depp always had 'an air of violence around him' (page 6, paragrapgh 17)

8. FEBRUARY (1999).

 Johnny Depp was taken into custody after he scuffled with paparazzi outside the posh Mirabelle restaurant Saturday night, cops said.Witnesses told police that Depp exploded in anger as several lensmen tried to snap his picture.The bad-boy actor picked up a long wooden plank and began swinging it, threatening to bash the snappers if they didn’t go away, authorities said.Depp spent four hours in police custody before being released with a caution that if he blew up at photographers again, he’d be thrown in the slammer overnight.

9. APRIL (2012)

Johnny Depp is being sued by a 52-year-old disabled woman who says she was roughed up and humiliated by the actor's bodyguards during a concert back in December ... claiming Depp's hired muscle beat her up and tore her pants off.

 A judge has dismissed the case -- finding Robin had no justification for filing anonymously.

10. AMBER HEARD (2013 - 2016)

Johnny Depp physically, emotionally, verbally abused Amber Heard from 2013 till 2016.

11. JULY (2018)

Johnny Depp has been sued for allegedly assaulting Gregg “Rocky” Brooks, a former location manager on Depp’s upcoming film City of Lies. In the suit, Brooks said that Depp punched him twice in the ribs. He also accused the actor of verbally assaulting him and saying he’d pay the crew member $100,000 to hit him back.

Johnny Depp admitted to GQ that he smacked the location manager. Then it was redacted.

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[stahlop]

The Night We Met

Summary:

Ever since Emma and Neal started dating, his roommate, Killian, has always been a jerk. But now that Emma and Neal have broken up, will she see Killian in a different light? Especially when she finds out the truth about why he's always hated her?

Rated M

Also on A03

Happy belated birthday @mariakov81! I have finally finished your birthday fic. I hope you enjoy this college/enemies to lovers/miscommunication au.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta on this one.

-------------

“Ruby, I’m tired, I really don’t want to go to this party,” Emma whined as Ruby walked through her door.

“Too bad,” Ruby trilled at her. “You promised. You’ve been working like a dog. And besides, maybe you’ll get yourself laid tonight.” She smiled her wolfish grin at her.

“Ruby, I don’t need to get laid. I’m perfectly fine!” Emma huffed and settled herself back down into the couch cushions.

“Emma,” Ruby said, sitting next to her on their overly plush couch. She threw back her red tinged, brown locks, and grabbed Emma’s hands from where she’d had her arms crossed over her chest in indignation. “You have not been with anyone since you and Neal broke up. Not even a one-night stand or a rebound to get over him. I know he hurt you..”

“He fucking cheated on me for half of our three year relationship, Ruby!” Emma said, pulling her hands back and willing the tears that pricked her eyes not to fall. She wasn’t going to get upset about fucking Neal again. “Thank goodness I always insisted on condoms even though I was on birth control. Who knows what kinds of diseases he could’ve picked up.” The memory of finding Neal with another woman in their bed was seared into her memory. The fact that he’d apparently been cheating on her with multiple women over the course of their relationship made her feel like the biggest failure on the planet. But Emma always got left, always, so she really shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“I know what you’re thinking, Emma Swan, and it’s not true. You did not deserve this.” Emma raised her eyes to look at her roommate. How the hell could she always read her mind? “I know you,” Ruby said as if she had, in fact, read her mind. “I’ve known you since we were 15 and Granny took you in off the streets, fed you, and never let you leave.” Emma smiled at the memory. As a 15-year-old foster kid runaway, Emma had tried to take some food from Ruby’s grandmother’s diner dumpsters, but had been caught by Granny herself. Emma had thought she would call the cops on her, as had been her experience, but instead, she called 15-year-old Ruby down from the apartment over the diner and together, they had made what Emma had constituted as a feast (really just grilled cheese, steamed broccoli, onion rings, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a piece of cherry pie for dessert). Emma had made to leave as they’d done their good deed for the day, but they insisted on Emma staying in their spare room (and with a stern warning from Granny that if anything were missing in the morning, she would hunt her down). And somehow, Emma had fought the urge to run, and eventually, Granny ended up getting permission to foster her, and she had never left. Now she and Ruby were finishing up their senior year of college and Emma did not need her foster sister to try and convince her to go to some end of the year college house party.

“Look, Neal was a raging douche. I’m just sorry he had to break your heart for you to see it. But it’s been six months, Emma. It’s time to end the wallowing and come out!” Ruby gave her a stern look and Emma knew she was done for. She could never say no to that look, and Ruby knew it.

“Fine!” Emma practically bolted off the couch. “But don’t expect me to have any fun,” she warned as she headed off to her bedroom to change.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruby said, waving her hand behind her as she went through the door of her own room.

-------------

Emma sighed a breath of relief as she sat down in the recently vacated spot on the couch. There was a couple making out on the other end of the couch, but as long as they didn’t invade her space, she wasn’t too worried about them. She’d been making the rounds with Ruby for the past hour and the heels that she’d picked out to wear were not being kind to her feet whatsoever.

She had just grabbed her phone out of her wristlet, flicked her blonde hair back behind her, and was just about to check the time when she heard his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she knew more would be coming. “This doesn’t really seem like your scene,” the heavily accented, British voice continued on.

“And what exactly is my scene, Jones?” Emma didn’t even look up from her phone, just opened it up and started to scroll through Instagram so that she didn’t have to actually speak to him. She groaned when she felt the couch dip next to her. She glanced past him to where the couple had been making out just seconds ago, but it seemed as if they’d decided to take their activities to someplace more private.

“Aren’t you usually at bars or at Neal’s place?” Emma wasn’t sure if he was asking a genuine question, or if he just didn’t have a good zinger for her (which was pretty much his thing). But it was obvious from his answer that he didn’t know some important information.

“Neal and I broke up,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and not like her heart was still breaking six months later. It wasn’t even Neal she was upset about, it was the being lied to and cheated on part that still got her upset. That she had put her heart out there and Neal had essentially stomped all over it, making her feel like that lost girl all over again. She looked over at him expecting to see an ‘I told you so’ smirk on his face, but instead, he looked rather upset.

“I’m sorry, Swan,” he said, a solemn expression washing over his face. “I truly am. I know how happy you two were.” Emma almost burst out laughing. 

“Are you mocking me, Killian?” She wasn’t angry, just confused. “Because I seem to recall you not liking me at all when Neal and I were dating. Considering you were his roommate for most of the time we were together, I rarely ever saw you. And when I did you showed your disdain toward me pretty flagrantly.” Great. Now she was all riled up again. The last thing she needed tonight was to get into an argument with Killian Jones who had been the bane of her existence when she and Neal were together.

The expression on his face morphed from concern to pure anger after her little outburst. “I don’t even know why I try with you, Swan.” He pushed himself up off the couch and started to walk off before he stopped sharply, turned around, and came back over to her.

“I don’t know what I ever did for you to be so combative towards me, but now that you're not with Neal I don’t have to put up with it anymore. Go screw yourself!” Emma watched in shock as he stalked away from her and started up the stairs. The few people who were in the room with her all had looks of disbelief on their faces at the scene that had just transpired. Emma felt her whole body start to flush in embarrassment before she realized that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Who the fuck does he think he is? she thought, her embarrassment now turning to anger. She and Killian had always had an antagonistic relationship. They had never gotten along. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She’d actually met him before Neal as they’d had a class together sophomore year, but they’d only made small talk at that point. They’d flirted a bit and she’d thought he’d been interested, but then Neal had asked her out instead and Killian had made it clear that not only had he not been interested (what with the girlfriend Neal told her he had), but that he really didn’t like her at all. Every time she’d go over to their apartment, no matter what she said, he retorted back with some kind of insult or sarcastic comment. It had almost been a relief when he’d moved out a year and a half into her and Neal’s relationship.

“You try with me?” she asked incredulously, running after him up the stairs and trying not to knock over any of the, most likely, drunk people who were congregating there. Killian turned around toward her, his blue eyes flashing angrily at her. He looked like he was going to say something back to her, but then his whole body deflated with a resigned sigh that said ‘Great, I guess we’re doing this.’ And before Emma could even comprehend what was happening, he’d grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty bedroom right off the stairs, locking the door behind them.

“Did you know?” she asked before he could get a word in. 

“Know what, Swan?” Killian asked as if this whole thing was an inconvenience for him, even though he was the one who dragged her into the room.

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “That Neal was cheating on me?” Killian’s eyes went wide for a split second before he tried to cover it up with a look of disbelief, but that was enough for Emma to see that, yes, he indeed knew that Neal had been cheating on her.

“Wow,” Emma said, trying to blink back the tears that had started pricking her eyes, all the fight leaving her body. “I knew you hated me, but I never expected you to sit idly by while Neal cheated on me.” She sank down on the bed and proceeded to use the heel of her hand to try and stop the tears from actually falling. She glanced a look at Killian, expecting to see him gloating or a mirthful smile gracing his lips, but instead, he looked absolutely crestfallen.

“I had my suspicions,” he began, running his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up and yet still making him look devilishly handsome, not that Emma was noticing. Nope. She was too upset to notice how Killian looked. “I confronted Neal about it and he told me to mind my own business. That’s why I moved out. I may be a bit of a scoundrel, Swan, but it’s bad form to cheat.” He made a move to sit down next to her on the bed, pausing to silently ask permission before she nodded yes and the bed dipped next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you even suspected?” Emma asked. She was staring at the god awful bedspread they were sitting on. It looked like it was denim with rhinestones all over it. How could that be comfortable to sleep on? She felt the bed shake and saw Killian scratching behind his ear, a nervous tell she’d noticed over the years. She wondered why he was nervous talking to her right now.

“Honestly, Swan, I figured you wouldn’t believe me. I mean,” he paused for a moment as if he were going to reveal some big unspoken truth between them, “you did choose him over me. I didn’t want to come off as jealous and petty.” She nodded as if that made sense, but then realized it made no sense.

Jealous and petty? 

Chose Neal over him?

“What the hell are you talking about, Killian?” The sadness that she’d been feeling was replaced by utter confusion. 

Killian took a deep breath as if he couldn’t believe they were going to discuss this. “Look, I know you always felt a bit uncomfortable about me being Neal’s roommate, since you rejected me so grandly. I guess that’s why I was always so sarcastic toward you -”

“No, seriously, Killian,” she said, cutting him off, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. When did I reject you?” She’d turned to face him now. She was sure her face had the most puzzled expression on it since this conversation had taken a turn. Killian’s eyes searched hers as if looking for the prank she was playing on him, but when he couldn’t, he continued talking.

“That night in the bar. You rejected me and chose Neal,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know I keep saying this, Jones, but what the hell are you talking about? I never even spoke to you the night Neal and I got together in the bar. How could I have rejected you?” God, had she drank more than she thought that this whole conversation with Killian made no sense whatsoever? Killian let out a huff of frustration.

“I was perfectly happy never to bring this up, since you never did, but I guess we’re finally going to have this out. That night. At the bar. I thought we were flirting. It seemed like we were flirting.”

They had been flirting. She’d been waiting for her friends at a table by herself when she’d noticed Killian Jones from her biology class sitting with Neal at a table across the room. They’d practically been eye fucking each other from their perspective tables when Neal had walked over to her table and surprised her by asking her out instead.

“You had a girlfriend!” Emma said, accusingly. And now she was back to being angry. She jumped up from the bed, intent on leaving the room. Why the hell did he feel the need to rehash all this from three years ago? She’d felt humiliated when Neal had told her Killian had a girlfriend. She must have completely imagined the flirting that she thought he’d been reciprocating. 

“What are you going on about, Swan?” he asked. Apparently it was Killian’s turn to be confused. He was wearing the most perplexed look on his face that Emma had ever seen.

“Your girlfriend, Mia, or Mina, or whatever. You were dating her when Neal and I started seeing each other, so you couldn’t have been flirting with me!” Emma was exhausted from this whole exchange. She knew she shouldn’t have let Ruby convince her to come out tonight. And here she was only, she checked the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, one hour into the party and she was already fighting with Jones. And she wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about this time. Just that she felt like she was reliving one of the more embarrassing interactions she’d had with him.

Killian sat there looking shell shocked. “Milah?” he asked incredulously. Emma shrugged.  “Neal’s cousin? I never dated her. I met her at a party, once. The party you came to as Neal’s girlfriend for the first time. Whatever gave you the idea I was dating her?”

Emma furrowed her brow, trying to recall that night three years ago. “Neal told me you were,” she said slowly. Killian scrunched his face in a look of confusion. He headed back over to the bed and sat down. He looked like he was thinking about something and Emma started to feel like an intruder in the room. She was about to suggest she head back to the party when he patted the spot next to him.

“Come sit, Swan. I feel like we need to clear the air about a few things.” The solemn look on his face was enough for Emma to follow his instructions. After she’d settled herself on a patch of the bedspread that did not contain rhinestones trying to puncture her through her jeans, Killian began to speak. “Let me see if I have the order of events correct from that night in the bar. You and I were flirting.” Emma attempted to interrupt him by reminding him that she was flirting, but she’d obviously misinterpreted his intentions, but he put his pointer finger to her lips to stop her. “Sh Sh Shush. It’s storytime,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So, you and I were flirting, or, at least, I was flirting. I was flirting with you in our bio class at school and I couldn’t believe my luck that you were sitting there at that all ages college bar flirting with me. But, I wasn’t as confident back then, so when Neal offered to be my wingman and kind of feel you out about your feelings for me, I jumped on the opportunity. I sat there watching the conversation from my table. I watched you smile at him and then look over at me and my heart practically soared out of my chest that you might be agreeing to pursue something with me. And then your face fell and you looked over at me again, but this time with a little more scorn in it, and then you and Neal just kept talking and talking, and the longer I sat there the more I felt like the biggest fool just sitting there. I could tell your affections had shifted. And then Neal came back over to me after you’d finished talking and told me how you’d really been flirting with him and that you’d agreed to go on a date with him, and better luck next time.” Killian hadn’t looked at her throughout the entire part of his story, probably afraid to see her reaction to it. Probably afraid that she would be mocking him in some way since that’s what their relationship had been since she’d been with Neal, and now she understood why.

“But, that’s not what happened,” Emma said with an anguished cry. Killian’s face snapped up toward hers so fast she thought he might have hurt something. “I was flirting with you. I’d been crushing on you so hard. And then you were in the bar. I wanted to come over and talk with you, but I didn’t want to lose the table I was saving for my friends. When Neal came over, I thought maybe you’d sent him instead. But then he told me that you hadn’t been flirting, that I must have misinterpreted. That you had been with your girlfriend, Milah, for a while now, and could I possibly consider getting to know him and go out on a date with him instead. And I felt like the biggest fool,” she said repeating his words back to him, “but Neal was cute and nice and I thought, why not. And then he brought me to that party and Milah was all over you and that just confirmed to me that everything I thought had been happening between us was just in my head, so I agreed to be Neal’s girlfriend that night.” A thought struck her and she gasped.

“That’s why you’ve been so mean to me? You thought I rejected you for Neal?” She felt horrible now, knowing the truth.

“Aye,” he said, scratching that area behind his ear again. “I admit, I didn’t deal with my feelings about being rejected that well. And the fact that you never said anything about it perturbed me too.”

“He played us both. He was supposed to be your friend and instead he screwed you for a girl.” Emma had thought she’d been pissed at Neal when she’d discovered he’d been cheating, but now she was angrier than she’d ever thought she could be. Neal was the worst of the worst. And to top it all off, he had stopped whatever could have potentially happened between her and Killian from happening.

“It was part of why I moved out. Besides suspecting him of cheating on the most glorious woman I’d ever laid eyes on, I just couldn’t see you two together anymore. It hurt too much.” He gave a shy smile which looked odd on his ruggish face.

“Ugh! Neal is the biggest asshole ever. What the hell did I ever see in him?” Emma asked.

“You see what you want to see when you’re in love,” Killian answered. Emma bit her lip, replaying everything she’d just learned. The last three years had been built on a lie. Neal was the biggest asshole to the tenth degree and Killian was sitting here looking at her as if she hung the moon.

Killian was looking like a man in love.

Emma had thought he was cute back in their freshman year when he’d still had lanky limbs that didn’t seem to fit his body and could barely grow facial hair. And now here he was sitting in front her, his body lean and muscular, beautiful scruff covering the lower half of his face, and a thatch of chest hair sitting exposed from where he’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt (something she always had complained to Neal about when she thought she hated him, but she’d really always wanted to run her fingers through it). She looked up into his eyes and noticed that they were practically black. Only a sliver of blue iris ringed the outside of the pupil. Emma could feel her heart starting to pound in her chest. She’d hated him until only mere minutes ago, hadn’t she? Until the revelation of Neal’s manipulation had come to light. Or had she simply been masking her feelings by engaging in his hateful banter? It only took a split second for her to decide what to do.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and hauled his lips to hers. If Killian seemed surprised by this turn of events, he didn’t show it all, as he immediately started kissing her back. His scruff on her chin felt delightful, his lips were soft on hers, and his hand had threaded its way into her hair and the slight pull felt amazing. She ran her hands through his hair and reveled at how soft it felt. She broke the kiss for a moment to get some air, their foreheads resting against each other, both of them panting.

“That was…” he began.

“Long overdue,” Emma finished before she went in for another kiss. But Killian stopped her before her lips could reach his. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but for a totally different reason than it was before. She couldn’t have possibly misread the situation again.

“You don’t want me anymore,” she stated softly, pulling away from him before she could embarrass herself any further. But he wouldn’t let her out of his grip.

“On the contrary, I want you very much.” Emma bit her lip and couldn’t stop the smile that overcame her lips. “I just…” he huffed, most likely trying to find the right words to say what he wanted without offending her. “We’ve spent the last three years believing we hated each other, and I just want to make sure this isn’t a one time thing, because I never hated you, Emma.” The sound of her name, and not Swan, did things to her that she never knew just a voice could do. She gently cupped his face in her hand and gave a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Killian, I fully intend for this to be more than a one time thing. So please, just kiss me again?” And with that, he surged forward and gave in to her request. 

This kiss was nothing like the last one. This one was full of want, passion, and love (yes, love; Emma may have still loathed him earlier tonight, but she would be the first to admit that there was a thin line between love and hate, and it had now been crossed).

Killian started peppering her jaw with kisses, finding a particular spot right before her ear which made her moan with pure lust. “Swan,” he growled into her ear, his breath making her whole body shiver, “you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted to hear you make those noises because of me.” He bit down on her ear lobe, soothing it with his tongue as she made another obscene noise that in all her time with Neal she’d never heard herself make. “Do you know what it does to a man when the object of his desire is getting off by someone else in the next room with thin walls? It was absolute torture.” He moved back down her jaw, kissing her lips again before moving to the other side. 

“In all honesty, you mostly heard me faking it,” Emma laughed. She honestly never knew it could feel this good and they were only kissing.

Killian pulled away from the ear he’d been sucking on and faced her with a troubled look. “Please tell me my former prick of a roommate gave you some orgasms during your tenure together?” Emma almost laughed at the level of concern on his face, but she knew he was being serious so she held it in. 

“I mean, he gave me some,” she shrugged. “But he was the only guy I’d ever been with, so I don’t really have a lot to compare him to.” Killian looked even more insulted at that statement. 

“Swan,” Killian said, grabbing her hands. “You are a goddess and I’ll show you how you should be worshipped properly.” He punctuated this statement with another bruising kiss. 

Emma sat slack jawed at his words. Never had anyone spoken to her like Killian did. Like she was worthy of being ‘worshipped’ as he’d put it. So she just nodded in agreement. 

“Emma --”

“Killian --”

They both gave a small laugh having spoken at the same time. 

“Emma, I just want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, I want to be whatever you want us to be. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.” So much more romantic than Neal’s ‘So I wanna if you wanna,’ Emma thought.

“Are you trying to make sure I’m okay with this, Killian? Because I am. I liked you back before Neal, and I thought I’d been wrong about you being this nice guy, but I still always had a thing for you, even when we were... mortal enemies.” More laughter emanated from them. “But I want this. I really want this.” She took her free hand and moved a piece of hair that was dangling over his eye away. “And I want to explore what could’ve been if He Who Shall Not Be Named hadn’t interfered for his own selfish reasons.” They both smiled at that. Emma could see his blue eyes twinkling. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he let go of her hand and got up off the bed and motioned for her to do the same. Emma was confused until he began turning the bed down for them to get more comfortable.

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman?” she asked jokingly.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he replied back. And then he grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. “But right now, I want to tear off this ridiculous comforter,” Killian ripped it off the bed revealing the normal looking sheets underneath, “so I can get you into that bed, tear off all your clothes, and hear you scream my name.” He growled into her ear as he tongued it. His voice went straight to her clit and she swore she might come from his voice alone. 

Killian moved her hair off her shoulder as his lips began their assault on it. Emma had never been so glad she’d chosen the off-the-shoulder top she was wearing for the party that night. She started to unbutton her blouse to move things along, but Killian swatted her hands away. 

“No, Swan. I will not have you ruining my fun by having you undress yourself. I intend to unwrap you myself. I’ve waited too long for this to be a quick fuck.” Emma shivered at his words. Never in a million years would she have thought Killian would have been a dirty talker. And she never realized that it would turn her on so much. 

His scruff was scratching her neck in the best way as his lips went back to her neck. Her hands went to the thatch of hair peeking out from the top of his shirt and Emma decided that if she wasn’t allowed to unbutton her top, she could certainly start unbuttoning his. The chest hair was something she’d always wanted to run her fingers through. With every button she opened, more and more hair was revealed. She ran her fingers through it as Killian moved back to her mouth. 

“Please, Killian,” she begged as she got to the last button on his shirt. He removed his arms from the sleeves while still keeping his lips on hers, although she could feel him smile as she begged. He continued to unbutton her blouse with his deft fingers and discarded her shirt onto the floor.

“Better?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in the sexiest way she’d ever seen. 

“Not even close,” she panted. The black, strapless lace bra she was wearing felt too constricting, and as much as Killian had wanted to ‘unwrap’ her himself, she reached behind her back to unhook the offending material. The eyebrow raised again as he stepped back to see what she had done, but then his eyes widened when he saw what was underneath her bra.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Emma,” Killian whispered in awe and before she could say anything back, he started kissing her again. This time, Emma pulled him down onto the bed with her. They found a comfortable position with her on her back and him between her thighs. His lips seemed to be everywhere: lips, jaw, neck, collarbone. He was kissing a path down to her breasts and she was rubbing her jeans against the large bulge she could feel through his.

“Someone is impatient,” he smirked into the top of her breast before his teeth clamped down over her nipple.

“Fuck, Killian!” she said as he immediately laved his tongue over the now peaked nipple. The smirk returned.

“All in good time.” He moved over to the other nipple and repeated the same movements with his teeth and tongue. Emma had never felt these feelings before. Neal had barely done any foreplay, and Emma, having not been that experienced, just figured that was normal. Now she was mentally berating herself for missing out on this the past few years. But she needed to stop thinking about Neal when she had Killian’s mouth heading south. His tongue dipped into her navel and Emma swore she was going to come before he even got her jeans off. She never knew someone’s tongue could feel that erotic on her skin.

“Is this okay?” Killian asked as his fingers came up to the button on her jeans. Emma could only nod, her mouth not seeming to work. He popped the button and Emma lifted up her ass so Killian could slide her jeans and underwear down (just plain cotton which she was highly regretting right now; at least she’d had the forethought to shave before the party). He continued to kiss down her body as her jeans slid off, leaving her completely nude. For the first time that night, Emma began to feel self conscious about the position she was in. She and Killian had hated each other up until an hour ago, was it really prudent of her to sleep with him already? Maybe they should slow things down. She was just about to voice this when his tongue made contact with her clit and all rational thought went out the window.

“Oh, God!” she screamed and her hands involuntarily went to his lucious, brown locks and pulled him even closer.

“Killian will do,” he said, smiling into her. “So wet for me, Swan.” He began licking her like a man possessed and Emma had never been this crazed from oral sex in her life. She was pretty much fucking his face and Killian seemed to be enjoying it. He sucked her clit between his lips and Emma knew she was so close. Killian took his pointer and middle fingers and slipped them into her wet heat, thrusting them back and forth until he finally found the spot that would make her come undone. “Come for me, Swan,” he growled in a commanding tone. He gave one final suck and her body exploded. 

Emma knew she was mumbling nonsensical words as Killian continued to lick and pump his fingers more slowly now, bringing her down from her high. Never in all her life, not by her own hand or any other boy’s (because that’s what they all were, boys) had she ever had an orgasm so strong. Emma was vaguely aware that Killian was now kissing back up her body: a small nip to her hip, his tongue licking a stripe up the side of her stomach, his teeth grazing the side of her breast. His hand was still in between her legs easing her down from her intense orgasm.

“Oh my fucking God, Killian!” she panted out, her heart still beating frantically in her chest.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that.” He smirked. That smirk always used to annoy her, but now it was the sexiest thing Emma had ever seen. She grabbed Killian by the hair and crashed her lips onto his. She could taste her essence on his lips and it was intoxicating. Emma never thought she would be turned on by that. She was learning a lot about herself tonight. Like the fact that she was completely nude and Killian was still half dressed.

“Lose the pants, Killian.” She’d found her way to the tip of his pointed ear. Another thing she’d always found annoying about him and now she found hot as fuck.

“As the lady wishes.” He stood up and began to unbutton his pants as Emma started stroking his chest hair. He was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs underneath that did nothing to hide his erection and for the first time, Emma realized that all the sexual innuendos he’d dropped over the years were not because he was compensating for something. He could really back up everything.

“Fuck, Killian!” Emma breathed out as he pulled his boxer briefs down to meet his pants that were at his knees. Emma knelt down to pull them off the rest of the way, Killian watching her intensely, and found herself eye to ….cock. He was so much bigger than Neal, and it was nicer looking, what with the manscaping he’d obviously done. Neal had just been a hairy mess. But Killian, well, Emma never thought she’d describe a man’s penis as beautiful, but that’s what this was. She gently brushed her thumb over the tip, a hiss emanating from Killian’s lips as he sat back on the bed. She wrapped her small hand around it and looked up at him. “Is this okay?” She echoed back his words from before, and just as she had, he nodded, too much in awe that this was actually happening.

Emma pumped him up and down slowly, her thumb grazing the tip each time. His shaft was velvety smooth under her touch. She was gearing herself up to lick him; it was not something she had particularly enjoyed doing for Neal. Killian must have sensed her hesitation because the next thing she knew, he was hauling her up into his lap. She immediately became wetter the moment his cock rubbed against her already damp folds.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her again. “Besides, if you put your mouth on me, I’d probably finish there and I want to feel you around me.” Emma could feel her cheeks redden, but then started rubbing herself against him. The noise Killian made was probably the most amazing noise she’d ever heard and she doubled her efforts rubbing against him just to hear him make it again.

“One moment,” he said, maneuvering himself to grab his pants. He quickly pulled out his wallet and grabbed the foil-wrapped condom from inside, then deposited his wallet back in his pants before dropping them back on the floor. Emma was busy giving sloppy kisses along the column of his neck when she heard the foil rip, and she lifted up slightly so his cock stood in between them looking red and angry. Emma had never seen an erection look so hard. She plucked the condom from his hand and pulled it down herself (and honestly, she never thought putting a condom on could be so damn sexy).

“Ready, Swan?” he asked. Emma didn’t even give a verbal answer. She grabbed his cock, lifted herself over it, and slowly sank down on him, adjusting to his length and girth.

“Fuck!” she moaned when he was finally seated completely within her. Killian kissed her passionately, his tongue plunging into the depth of her mouth and tangling with hers. She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth, and she could swear she felt him get even harder inside her.

“You need to move, Swan,” he bit out. Emma lifted herself up, and slammed back down on him. God, she’d never felt so full in her life. She never wanted this feeling to end. She continued to fuck herself on him, her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up higher, his hands under her ass to do the same. She’d never fucked anyone like this before. Neal had always insisted on missionary style, which Emma was now realizing was probably the only way he could get off. This position felt fucking amazing and she was pissed at herself for never trying it before. But she needed something more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as his hand moved from her ass to in between them and made contact with her clit. That was exactly what she needed. He continued to rub it as hard as he could. It was too much, yet not enough. She was almost there.

“Let go, Emma. I promise I’ll catch you.” And that was all it took. Emma lifted up off him completely and had the most fucking intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life. Even more powerful than the one he’d brought her to before. Everything seemed to go black and then next thing she knew, Killian had turned them over so she was on her back and he thrust himself back inside her. 

Emma didn’t even get to contemplate how fast he’d changed their position when another orgasm rocked her due to the angle of his cock inside her and a well placed thumb on her already swollen clit. “Killian!” she screamed, her voice starting to feel hoarse from all the screaming she’d been doing. He rode her out until she finally felt him still and he grunted, emptying himself into the condom.

Killian collapsed on top of her. He was heavy, but Emma decided she didn’t really mind. She liked the way he felt. With Neal, she’d just wanted him off of her right away, mainly because he’d fall asleep almost instantaneously and then she’d be trapped beneath him. Almost as if he was reading her mind, Killian rolled off of her. Emma immediately missed the warmth of him, but he quickly took off the condom, wrapped it in some tissues from the box on the nightstand, and threw it away in the garbage can. Then he pulled her into him so their foreheads were touching, and Emma thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her after sex. She kissed him, a short and sweet kiss, just to let him know that this wasn’t just sex. She hoped that it conveyed what she was too afraid to say. But then, she decided to say it anyway.

“Killian,” she began, “would you like to go out on a date...or something?” she mumbled, her confidence waning after she mentioned the word date.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” Killian teased as a wide smile graced his handsome face. She blushed. After everything they’d just done and she blushed when he teased her. She had it bad. “Yes, Emma, I would be honored to go out with you. But please let me plan the date,” he said earnestly. How could she resist when he had the puppy dog face going. She kissed him in agreement.

“And now, love,” he said hesitantly, “I think you and I should get out of this bed, considering it doesn’t belong to either of us. And who knows how many other people have used this bed for this exact same purpose.” That made Emma jump up almost immediately. God, she hoped whoever's house this was they washed the sheets before they’d made the bed.

They quickly got their clothes back on (and Emma didn’t even want to think about the mess her hair probably was), and Emma pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans that had been discarded, noticing there were a few text messages from Ruby.

“Shit! Ruby’s been trying to get a hold of me. She wanted to leave half an hour ago.” She frantically started texting Ruby to tell her where she was, but Killian took the phone from her hand and deleted the text.

“Tell her you’ve gone home with someone and you’ll see her in the morning.” Emma looked at him quizzically.

“Am I going home with someone?” Killian’s cheeks went red all the way to the tips of his elfin ears and his hand went to the back of his neck.

“Only if the lady would like to.”

Emma debated making him even more nervous, but couldn’t contain herself. “The lady would like to, Killian,” she said, giving a small smile. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles and Emma thought she might melt on the spot. How could she have ever hated him? Oh right, her jerk ex. She quickly sent a text off to Ruby.

He unlocked the door and they stepped out into the, thankfully, empty hallway. They could still hear the party going on downstairs, and lots of moaning coming from the other rooms in the hall. They both gave each other slightly embarrassed grins.

“Come, love, let’s take this somewhere more private,” Killian said smugly; Emma nodded in agreement and they headed down the stairs… and ran smack into Neal.

He looked, if Emma was being honest, like crap. His hair was disheveled, and not in the way Killian’s was looking because of her pulling on it during sex, and there were bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“Emma!” Neal said, his face lighting up. “Boy, am I ever glad to see you.”

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual,” Emma snapped. The euphoria she had just experienced with Killian was quickly fading into revulsion. She gave Killian’s fingers a quick squeeze so he knew she was not going to let Neal ruin their night. He gave her a squeeze back in understanding.

“Oh, come on Ems, don’t be like that,” he said, flashing that grin that always used to make her weak in the knees. Now it just made her want to vomit. What the hell did she ever see in him? Had she really been that desperate to be loved? Neal reached out to grab her hand and Emma could see the confusion when he realized one hand was occupied, and then the look of realization when he finally noticed Killian standing beside her.

“What the hell is this?” Neal asked angrily, like he had any reason to be angry. “You making a move on my girl, man? I thought we were friends!” Emma actually burst out laughing at that remark. Both Neal and Killian looked at her bewildered.

“First off, Neal,” she said, giving him a fierce push against his chest, her laughter giving way to irritation, “I’m no longer your girl. I haven’t been your girl in six months. And,” she gave him another push, “you were cheating on me for half of our relationship, so I really haven’t been your girl in a long time.”

“Ems, I can explain…”

“No, you can’t explain, Neal. And even if you could, I don’t want to hear it. And as for Killian being your friend,” she gave a glance to Killian and gave him a huge smile before returning her look toward Neal, “friends don’t steal the girl their other friend is interested in and then lie to both of them about it for years.” Another push. Neal’s face went practically white. “Yeah, we figured some things out tonight about the night we met.” She scowled at him to let him know that she meant business.

“I..” But Emma was done with this.

“I don’t want to hear it, Neal.” And with that, she walked past Neal, her hand in Killian’s to really make her point that she was no longer his.

“Your loss, mate,” Killian said with a smirk and gave a salute as Emma pulled him along. They ran out the front door into the cool spring air. When they made it to Killian’s car (a Chevelle that Emma remembered he rebuilt himself) they stopped to catch their breath. Emma could feel Killian’s eyes on her, silently watching her to see her reaction. 

“Emma, I’d understand if we’ve moved too fast and you want to slow things down,” Killian said quickly. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t say it fast enough, she’ll say something to end what has barely begun between them. Emma gets it. She walked over to him. He’s busily looking anywhere but at her, while scratching that spot behind his ear. It’s utterly adorable.

“Killian?” She’s standing directly in front of him and the surprise look on his face when he finally does look at her is priceless. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. And I definitely don’t want to slow things down.” And with that declaration, she grabbed his face, pulled his lips to hers, and kissed him with everything she had in her. It took Killian a moment to catch up with her, his lips finally kissing hers back after a slight gasp of surprise into her mouth that made her smile, almost giggle even. 

They finally separated and got into Killian’s car, both of them quietly contemplating, with anticipation, what the future held for them as they drove silently back to his apartment.

 In the morning, Emma expected to feel the urge to run, to feel they moved too fast. But she doesn’t feel any of that. He pulled her in tight in his half asleep state, making her feel safe as she cuddled into his chest, and Emma wondered how she ever could have hated him the way she thought she did.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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[letterboxd]

Chaotic Bisexual.

Shiva Baby writer-director Emma Seligman tells Ella Kemp about expanding her wildly cringey short film into an even more anxiety-inducing feature, why Virgo and Taurus make the perfect producing pair, and the eternal conflict of being a good Jewish girl.

“If I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies!” —Emma Seligman

It sounds like a strange riff on a guy-walks-into-a-bar joke: a girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her secret ex-girlfriend, then her sugar daddy, then his shiksa wife, oh, and their baby—yet the payoff is so much more rewarding.

Filmmaker Emma Seligman’s debut feature is a new kind of teen classic: 78 non-stop minutes teeming with well-drawn traits and tropes that define the best coming-of-agers, the best Jewish comedies and the best day-in-a-life psychological roller-coasters.

Shiva Baby began as a grad project—a short film of the same name—and Seligman’s feature-length embellishment impressed at last year’s virtual editions of SXSW and TIFF, where it was quickly snapped up for international distribution. In a way, Shiva Baby was perfectly tailored to the times we were living in: Danielle, our reluctant heroine, is trapped in a claustrophobic family event she can’t escape, as people from her past and lies about her future make their way deep under her skin.

Fred Melamed, Rachel Sennott and Polly Draper in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Shiva Baby is very much the product of a wry school of emerging filmmakers who understand excruciatingly mundane horror and pin-sharp comedy as intimate bedfellows. Seligman’s writing finds a way to flesh out gloriously caricatural Jewish relatives, probing and overbearing and irrational. She does this both through dialogue and a visceral, haptic aesthetic that lurches in and out of focus visually, and has a nails-on-chalkboard unease sonically.

Coming in hot with a 4.01 average rating, Shiva Baby is striking all sorts of discordant notes with film lovers. “Combines some of my biggest anxieties: being asked if I have a boyfriend as well as what my plans for the future are and people talking with their mouths full,” writes Muriel.

The film’s “bisexual chaos”, which hinges on a haywire performance from Rachel Sennott as Danielle, opposite Molly Gordon’s overachieving ex-girlfriend, Maya, is also one of its great strengths. Glee star Dianna Agron is the shiksa threat, Kim, while Danny Deferrari is Danielle’s hapless benefactor, Max. If that’s not enough? Polly Draper, Fred Melamed and Jackie Hoffman are also just there.

What do you think defines a Jewish sense of humor? Emma Seligman: It’s morbid usually, and darker—generally uncomfortable and cringeworthy. I think about Curb Your Enthusiasm or Seinfeld, and A Serious Man. It borders on, “Is this funny at all?” I think Jewish humor leans into the darkly funny British sense of humor. I’m Canadian, so I feel like I’m halfway between the UK and the US in terms of their sense of humor.

Was it always your intention to make a comedy that feels like a bit of a nightmare? You’ve mentioned Black Swan and Opening Night as touchstones… Because I came from a short film, the question when expanding into a feature was, “How are we going to keep everyone interested in this day?” It’s got to be a significant day, it’s got to be that this young woman’s life has completely changed from this day. So what is it that changes? Why are we watching it? I watched a lot of movies that took place in one day, one of them was Trey Edward Shults’ first film Krisha. And then from there I realized that anxiety and this scary psychological feeling is a great way to have the audience stay there.

I watched Opening Night because there’s a shiva in it, but it was more the lobby scenes that were so claustrophobic and tense. And then each step of the way with each department, we were like, okay, it’s gonna be tense, but then we got to music, I was like, okay, this has become a full nightmare. Initially, I was just like, it’s got to be tense, but by the end, I was like, well, it does feel like a nightmare to a young woman sometimes.

Because you mention that, I have to ask whether you’ve seen Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade? I have, it’s incredible. It’s so funny, they’re both coming-of-age [films], and one of them is about a fourteen year old and then the same sort of feeling exists when you’re 22. When you’re fourteen is when it begins, and when you’re 22 you’re sort of at the end of it and you’re like, “Oh, I thought I figured out what I was supposed to do when I started feeling insecure this way at fourteen about sex and boys.”

Diana Agron and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Let’s talk about Rachel Sennott, who you have describe as your “Virgo rock”. What do you bring one another in your creative partnership? She’s a hustler, and she sets goals like nobody else. I think she moves very fast, and I’m more detail-oriented. I don’t know if the movie would have happened without her because she was like, “What are the goals to achieve this film?” After we made the short film, she just kept checking in with me. She goes well beyond what an actor does, which is why she’s an executive producer, because she was very, very invested in seeing the movie get made.

I think she pushes. We joke that she brings me out of my depression and I help calm her down. I feel like Taurus is a little more chill. Virgos are also earth signs, but they run on a faster frequency. So I think I calm her down, especially when we’re writing and bringing it back to structure. But she’s way funnier, she’s able to give jokes so quickly. We balance each other perfectly, for sure.

Do you think your partnership with Rachel is the kind of partnership you could see yourself maintaining throughout your career? Definitely. I think it’s important to have a good friend and also a young woman. She’s got different career goals from me, but they’re aligned. And we’re not in competition with each other. I feel so grateful because so much of the time I feel like the world does make you feel like you’re in competition with your friends that are trying to do the same thing as you when you’re a young woman—or just maybe in general.

Rachel Sennott and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Her character in Shiva Baby completely subverts the idea of a “nice Jewish boy/girl” which can be a trope in movies, but also very much a real thing in life. Is that something you consciously wanted to subvert, or did it come organically from the story you wanted to tell? I wanted to contrast that idea of a “nice Jewish girl” because every nice Jewish girl or boy has a sex life. I felt the sort of nice Jewish girl stressors on me were completely opposite from the NYU art school sugaring worlds, and hookup culture broadly. My family is such a huge part of my life and I think that those two sets of pressures are completely contradictory; to be a good girl or boy and have a stable career ahead of you, and to be finding, even if it’s at the very beginning, your eventual partner, or to just be in a relationship. And I felt like in school, no one wanted to date, everyone was hooking up. So many of my friends are sugar babies. I tried it super, super briefly.

I felt like the world was telling me to be like “an empowered, independent, sexy woman who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her, and doesn’t abide by any rules”, and I was like, “This is the opposite of being a nice Jewish girl!” And I just felt like those two things were screaming at me. So I did want to play on that. But I don’t even think it’s playing, just because that felt like what I was trying to battle within myself. And I think a lot of young people do, whether they’re Jewish or not. That’s their family’s expectations. And then the world is like, “But don’t care and don’t commit…”

Writer-director Emma Seligman. / Photo by Emma McIntyre

But then you still have to go home to your parents at the end of the day and they’re going to tell you what to do… Exactly.

What would you want viewers to take away from Shiva Baby about the sugaring community that you feel has been maligned in the past? I’m not a sex worker, so I don’t want to speak on behalf of this community, but I definitely feel like there hasn’t been many positive portrayals of sex workers. So I just wanted to show someone—because I knew so many friends of mine who did it—who enjoyed it, or purposefully did it and didn’t feel bad or shameful about it. I think maybe a lot of people think that it’s always something that comes out of dire circumstances. But whether that is the case or not, I think there’s a lot of people who enjoy it and enjoy what they do like any other job. So I just hope that they’re able to sort of widen their scope of what a sex worker looks like and acts like. Every sex worker has got a family, friends, a full robust life, as we all do.

It’s time for your Life in Film questionnaire. Can you give me a few must-watch Jewish films for people who don’t know where to start? Fiddler on the Roof, Yentl, Keeping the Faith, Kissing Jessica Stein, A Serious Man. Definitely Uncut Gems, and Crossing Delancey.

Shiva Baby has been described on Letterboxd, variously, as “Uncut Gems but make it chaotic bisexual”, “the most stressful Jewish movie since Uncut Gems”, “the chaotic successor of Uncut Gems”, “if Krisha and Uncut Gems had a baby”, and, of course, “Uncut Gems for hot Jewish sluts”… Amazing, I love that. Extremely nice comparison.

Who is your favorite promising young woman? Not Emerald Fennell’s film, but a young creative or performer who you think is making waves. I love Hari Nef—I think she’s amazing and am really excited to see what she does next. I loved her so much in Transparent and Assassination Nation, and I don’t understand why she hasn’t been the lead in a million movies.

Molly Gordon with Rachel Sennott in ‘Shiva Baby’.

What should people watch next after Shiva Baby? Those Jewish movies would be a great start. And then Krisha, although I think a lot of people have seen it especially if they’re on Letterboxd! But then those Jewish romantic comedies, and then Obvious Child, all those movies are very sweet and endearing and helped me make it.

Separate from film, if it’s shiva-related then Transparent. If I didn’t have Transparent I don’t think I would have seen world of grounded, nuanced Jews that I could do comedy with. It would have been more in the Curb vein, which is also amazing, but a little more schtick.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? My parents are huge movie buffs so I’m not sure there was one moment, but I will say that when I was six there was a re-release of the 20-year anniversary of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and I was at a horribly packed bris and my uncle was like, “Fuck this, there are so many people here, I can’t even breathe. Let’s go see E.T.” That was the first moment where I was like, if I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies.

Related content

From Short to Feature: Rob’s list of 2020 films that made the jump

Jewish Cinema (non-Holocaust): Amelia’s list of films “for when u want to celebrate your heritage but don’t want to have to think all too deeply about the Shoah”

Best Directorial Debuts of 2020: suggested by Letterboxd members, featuring Shiva Baby

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

Shiva Baby is now in select theaters and on VOD in the US. Film stills by Maria Rusche.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (2/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thank you guys for reading the first part of this! I cannot say enough how much I appreciate all of you and how glad I am little things like this bring you guys joy! Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over these words. ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two 

-/-

“Emma, the couple at table two wants to talk to you, and the woman at table seven has a complaint about the quiche. Something about there being eggs in them.”

Emma groans and closes her laptop to look at Ashley, one of the new waitresses she hired this summer. She’s good, courteous, and she’s always here on time. Emma is going to hate to lose her for a few weeks when she has her baby, but come hell or high water, the girl is getting maternity leave even if Emma can’t manage more than three weeks without the owner getting involved and likely trying to fire all of them. She deserves months more than that, but Emma can’t change the system.

It’s a shit system, especially for moms.

“They don’t want eggs…in their quiche? Are you serious?”

“She’s vegan and claims she’s been misled.”

Emma rolls her eyes and stands from her chair. She pulls her jean shorts down, the frayed edges covering just a little more thigh, and unties the bottom of her button-down. She probably needs to start dressing up more for this job, but she can’t be bothered. She managed to wear her Blue Dog Tavern polo last week, so that seems like enough effort. “We have symbols on the menu to indicate dietary restrictions, but this isn’t really a restaurant for dietary restrictions beyond one or two items. I’ll deal with it. Thanks, Ashley.”

It’s Sunday morning, which is their second busiest time after Friday and Saturday nights, and the Blue Dog is packed. It’s all hands on deck this morning, but Emma was hoping to get some scheduling and produce ordering done in her office during it. But this is a restaurant, so of course there’s never any time for a breather when she needs it the most. She’ll finish all that later, she guesses, because she has a feeling neither of these conversations are going to be a short one.

And she’s right about that. The woman hating on the quiche pitches a fit and demands her money back before threatening to sue the place and, quite frankly, threatening to cut off Emma’s legs, and Emma has to resolve that without losing her cool when all she wants to do is punch jerks like that straight across the jaw. Then the couple at table two asks her to run through every item on the menu and whether or not everything is organically sourced.

They serve fried mac and cheese balls at ten in the morning and have kitschy, slightly tacky artwork nailed onto the darkly stained wood. If you eat outside on the patio, you get a nice view of people taking off a little more than they should while sunbathing on the surrounding beaches and docked boats. There’s also the occasional ferry that drives by and blows a loud horn that tourists seem to get a kick out of. Do they really think everything is organically sourced?

God, sometimes she really hates tourists.

This is a nice place, though. It’s not somewhere you go for fine dining, but their brunch is divine, it’s got a good atmosphere, and the new bartenders she’s hired this summer make better drinks than you can get at any reasonably priced bar in a ten-mile radius. She likes this little part of the island, and even though she hates tourists, they do fund her entire life. So maybe she hates them a little less than usual when the paychecks roll in.

Today is not a day where the paycheck is rolling in.

Emma notices some of the tables are a little slow, so she picks up the slack, getting drinks and refills and checking on meals. It keeps her on her feet for most of the morning and through the lunch rush, but when it’s over, she collapses on a stool at the end of the bar.

“Chip, can you get me a coffee?” she asks without looking up. “I don’t care what milk or creamer you put in it as long as you don’t bring it to me black. Though, I think I need the caffeine so badly that I’d drink it. I don’t know why I agreed to work the late dinner shift at The Oaks last night. I’m exhausted.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she looks up for Chip. He’s nowhere to be seen, and when she checks her phone schedule, she realizes it’s his break time. Of course it is.

“Lass, I don’t believe the barkeep is here anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s his break, but I can help you. What’s your poison?”

“The coffee you’re having.”

Emma nods and turns to look at the man talking to her, and if she wasn’t so tired, she would have recognized the voice a hell of a lot faster than she did. A lot of different accents pass through this place, but he’s the first British one in awhile. Also the first one to show up in her backyard. Or the Fishers’ backyard, technically, but she’s been renting it for long enough for it to feel like her own even if she’s changed very little of the furniture and decorations outside her bedroom.

Killian. She thinks that was his name. Honestly, she’s surprised she remembers anything because she was in such a rush to get to work that she didn’t have time to deal with all the people at her house. But he was unexpected and attractive – she’s not blind to attractive men no matter what Ruby and Mary Margaret think – and he threw her off for a minute. He looked familiar, but she has no idea why. There’s no way she would have met him before.

But she also doesn’t care. She’s got a gut feeling that she needs to watch out for him, that there’s something that’s not right, and him being at her job is proving that to her. What are the odds that he’d wander in a few days after meeting her when she’s pretty sure he’s never been here before?

Then again, maybe that’s why he’s familiar. It’s June. A lot of people come through here, and she’s not going to remember all their faces. Sometimes she does, though, in the back of her mind where vague, slightly blurry memories reside.

“Sure thing,” Emma sighs, standing from the stool. “Do you have a server?”

“Aye. Heather, I believe, but…”

“But she’s on her phone.” Emma shakes her head. “My boss’s niece. Not much I can do about it, but I’ll get you your coffee, a water, and take your order right away.”

He nods, going back to his own phone, and Emma takes that as her cue to get behind the bar and start making some coffee. She doesn’t usually work this machine, so it takes her a minute to get it right all while she feels Killian staring at her.

“Do you need any suggestions on the menu?” Emma asks as the coffee percolates.

“How are the salads?”

“I prefer things with more calories, but they’re good. Our vegetables are fresh, and I personally enjoy the strawberry poppyseed with chicken, but I know not everyone loves fruit in salads.” He hums behind her as his mug fills, and she grabs some milk from the fridge under the sink, turning to show him. “Milk okay?”

“It’s perfect, Swan.” She raises her brows, which he mirrors, until he cocks his head forward and his lips form an obnoxious little smirk. “On the nametag, love.”

“Now, what did I say about being your love?”

“That you’re not.”

“Exactly.” She finishes making his coffee and hands it over. He’s a customer, she reminds herself. She’s got to try to be a little bit nicer than she wants to be. “So, the salad? If you’re looking more toward the healthy options with protein, the grilled chicken breast on its own is fantastic. You get two sides, which you can find at the bottom of the menu.”

He nods and looks at the menu for half a second before looking up. “The salad would be great. Thank you.”

He picks up his mug, pointing it toward her, and Emma takes it as a dismissal so she can put his order in, and hopefully she can get Heather to do her damn job and serve him for the rest of the meal. She doesn’t like that he knows where she lives and works, and even though she doesn’t think Ariel and Eric spend time with shady people, something about him gives her weird vibes.

His face just looks so damn familiar, and usually she’s really good remembering faces. Huh.

And Emma is usually right about these things. He’s likely nothing more than a rich man looking for a break from life by renting out a large house on the island. He’ll spend a week or two, maybe a month depending on his work situation, here, sleep with as many women as he can, and then he’ll go, never thinking of Martha’s Vineyard again. And she’s pretty sure Ariel does something having to do with high-powered people over in London, so he fits the profile. God, she must have seen him before with Ariel or something. That has to be it.

But for now, he’s a customer, and since Heather seems to be completely checked out, Emma guesses she’s going to have to deal with him. After this morning, he won’t be the worst person she has to deal with all day, and since she’s working at The Oaks tonight, she imagines being treated like shit then will outshine all of this.

Why the hell did she decide to pick up so many shifts at The Oaks? It’s a stuffy country club where tips reflecting the price of the meal aren’t even guaranteed, but it’s extra money with a flexible schedule. She’s doing okay on the money front right now, though, and if she were sane, she’d take some time off and relax, maybe enjoy the beach or any of the hundreds of good restaurants around here.

She is obviously not sane.

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles as she strips out of her jean shorts, kicking them to the ground before unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m so tired of people.”

“I’m people,” Ruby says. “Nice bra, by the way. The girls look great.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she does glance down at her boobs and hike them up a bit. They do look great today. “Shut up.” Emma picks up the black dress she has to wear at the country club and slips it over her shoulders. “You know I’m not tired of you.”

“That’s because you’ve barely seen me.”

“Busy. I’m busy. I work way too much. Speaking of that, why the hell aren’t you at work?”

Ruby stands from her couch and grabs her name tag from the end table. “I’m in between shifts. Granny’s in charge downstairs. I have a five-second commute to work, unlike you. Why are you changing here again?”

“Don’t want to run into any of the people at my house.” Emma smooths her dress and turns to Ruby’s mirror to reapply lipstick and put on some mascara. She’s got to wash her hair tomorrow. It’s hanging by on a thread today, if that thread is a little greasy and has a hell of a lot of dry shampoo in it. “But don’t worry, tomorrow, I will be out of your hair as they will soon be out of mine.”

“You know I’m always fine with you being in my business. Mary Margaret and David are coming here for dinner tonight. Any chance you can slip away?”

Emma finishes another coat of mascara. “Can’t. Working until past closing and then heading straight home to sleep in my house of strangers.”

Ruby laughs, carefree as always, and for a moment, the jealousy stings. Ruby has plenty of her own shit going on, but she always handles it with such ease. She’s the most carefree person Emma has ever met, and Emma can’t imagine living like that without way too much alcohol in her system.

“I told you that you could stay with me this week. Have I ever said it’s batshit crazy that they come to visit and are okay with you still staying there? Because that is batshit crazy.”

Emma shrugs and pulls back to take in her appearance. This is as good as it’s going to get. She doesn’t think she’ll be using her looks to get her any tips tonight, which is a crying shame since that’s half the reason she took this job in the first place. She knows exactly how to charm some of the older men into giving her more money by flirting a little, and she’s not ashamed that she has to give away her dignity to do it. She had to hire a dinner-shift manager at the Blue Dog because she was doing the work of two people with the pay of one. Now she’s doing the work of five people with the pay and of one and half people, so obviously she’s winning at life.

“I’m never there, and they seem like good people. I think they’re just glad I actually maintain the place and am slowly but surely getting through some of the renovations.” Emma looks at her hair again and ties it up in a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. “Any way you can make me a grilled cheese to go?”

“Only if you agree to go to a bar with all of us sometime in the next month.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

God, she hopes Ruby doesn’t remember this conversation. The last thing she wants to do right now is go out with her friends and then end up sitting alone as they all make out with their partners and leave without telling Emma goodbye.

Actually, the last thing she wants to do is go to work again today, but here she goes.

-/-

Emma quietly turns the key in her front door. She saw that the kitchen light was still on from the street, and while the Fishers likely just forgot to turn it off, she doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing them tonight. It’s their last night here, so she only has to make it through one or two more awkward conversations before she has the house to herself. It’ll be just her and the creaky floors. She can collapse on the couch in her dress instead of having to walk all the way up the stairs and make it to her bedroom like a responsible adult.

In another world, Emma would like to own a house like this. It’s charming. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s two floors, three bedrooms, has bay windows and built-in bookshelves, and the cabinets in the kitchen are a light green. She likes that it’s not cookie cutter white all the way around like some of the nicer houses around here. It has character, and though there are a few things she’d change beyond the needed repairs she does for the Fishers, it’s got good bones. Plus, the location is fantastic, and the backyard is spacious. It allows Emma to spend time in the sun without being stuck on a crowded beach or near a busy dock.

But this is not another world, and Emma could never afford a house this close to the coastline. She’s got no idea why she still lives here. Well, that’s not true, she knows exactly why she still lives here, and it’d be possible for her to pick up and move inland toward Boston. She just…she can’t. She’s been here for ten years after leaving her last foster home in Brockton, and it’s been a comfortable reprieve. She’s got her friends and her job(s), and even though she’s got years of hospitality experience, there’s no guarantee someone like her with a GED can get a job this well-paying and accommodating somewhere else. Plus, her housing is almost free, and she really can’t pass that up.

It all comes back to the house, which she’s dreading going into now no matter how much she wants to collapse onto her bed.

(Or the couch. She really misses the couch. It’s the best for napping.)

Emma steps inside, avoiding the places that make the floor groan, but it’s impossible to dodge them all. She tenses, then hurries across the living room toward the stairs, only turning to the opening to the kitchen at the last minute.

“Holy fuck,” Emma gasps, dropping her purse. It hits the ground in a gentle thud, her keys spilling out and clacking along the floor.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there, Swan.”

Emma’s breath hitches as she realizes who it is sitting at her kitchen table.

Killian…whatever his last name is. She’s got no clue and doesn’t care to ask. What she does want to know is why he’s sitting here alone at two in the morning like a fucking serial killer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, coffee she thinks from the smell, and leans back in the chair, the front legs tipping up with him. “Getting sober so I can drive home. Had two drinks with dinner, and it appears I’ve become a bit of a lightweight.”

“Don’t drink much then? I thought all you Brits liked going to the pub.”

He laughs, smile bright against the black of his stubble despite her poor attempt at his accent. “We do, but not so much me anymore. Trying to cut back.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She leans down to pick up her bag, grabbing her keys and tossing them back in. “I also get that we have Uber here. You might want to try that the next time you have a little too much to drink. You look like a murderer sitting in my kitchen like this.”

“It was two glasses of rum, nothing excessive. Wishing Ariel and Eric well before they leave in the morning.” He leans forward, the chair landing on all four legs, and downs the rest of his mug. “I don’t make a habit of drinking too much.”

“I don’t care what you do in your personal time. Just don’t make a mess in my house…or your friends’ house, I guess. And sleep on the couch if you want. There are blankets in the basket.”

She doesn’t know why she’s offering him the couch. She should be making him leave. Her heart is still leaping out of her chest from him scaring her, and even though this has been her home for years, she technically can’t ask him to leave. In reality, Ariel has probably offered him the couch already.

What a long day.

She wants it to be over.

“That’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Emma’s step falters, and while she was turning away from the man, she decides to turn back and narrow her eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I guess I’m full of surprises for men who don’t know me.”

“Just who are you then, Swan?” he asks, standing from the chair and putting his mug in the sink, turning the faucet on while never losing eye contact.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

A shiver runs down Emma’s spine, but she ignores it and walks up the stairs. This is a weird week, one she doesn’t want to repeat, and the last thing she needs is to spend too much time with a man who thinks he can charm his way into anything with a few smooth words and a smile. She’s been around enough men like that in her lifetime, but it doesn’t matter with him. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone with Eric and Ariel, and she’ll be back to being able to walk around her house without pants whenever she wants.

Tomorrow, this weird as hell week will be over, and she’ll be back to normal…mostly.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion​ @dramioneswan​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​

[blocksandbloops]

May I interest you in some fem!hermit!Tommy fluff for you in this trying time?

This is set in an alternative version of @redorich 's hermit!Tommy AU. Diverging from the Dream SMP's raid on Hermitcraft. All you need to know is that family trees are convoluted, Tommy's name is Clementine. She's trans, we love her, she has wings and has adopted Grian as her weird almost twin brother.

After the whole "Dreamon" and "invasion" mess the Dream SMP folk didn't expect to hear much from the hermits besides the ones who attended MCC. They thought that the two servers would just continue to exist, independent of one another. Just drifting through the void mere inches apart but never really touching.

Oh how wrong they were.

The hermits were friendly but they had absolutely underestimated just how friendly.

Apparently, the moment Clementine so much as breathed a word about how much she missed her biological family, Scar -ever the kind and helpful mayor that he was- decided to throw a beach party!

Since Clemmy's extended family was pretty large and they didn't want anyone to feel left out, it was an open invitation to everyone on the Dream SMP as long as they behaved.

That point was driven home when a few people, like Antfrost and his unhealed, dog bitten asscheek, mentioned how upsetting the Hermits was definitely not a good idea.

(Deep down they knew that the reason they were really doing this was because the hermits were worried about them. The Dream SMP was just a bunch of traumatized children according to them. They weren't wrong in that assumption but no one wanted to admit that.)

So, when the day of the beach party finally dawned, they all put on their least threatening outfits and packed up their supplies, (where Tubbo got the surf board nobody wanted to question) and entered the portal just like they had done a few months prior.

A few things were different though, the sun was bright and beaming in the sky, soft puffy white clouds rolled by, only promising gentle shade instead of the dreary air of yesteryear.

The shopping district had been rebuilt from it's smoky ruins and they finally all had time to appreciate the lovingly built shops and roads. It looked so beautiful and vibrant, you could practically feel the fact that summer was in full swing.

The smell of nectar and sea salt drifted through the air, sweetening even the sourest of moods. This is what peace was to the hermits. This was their everyday. They were so lucky and they didn't even realize it.

Some people were taking notes of all the different building styles with bright eyes, hoping to replicate some of it when they got home, others were suddenly hit with a feeling of bitter inadequacy of it compared to their homes. Is this what a world without war could look like?

But, no matter the gloomy musings of the few, they were all here to let go for a day! To celebrate the good times and to kick back for seemingly the first time in forever.

Their welcome party this time simply consisted of one person.

It was a strange sight, seeing the Hermits' admin Xisuma without a mask on, wearing a god awful hawaiian shirt that Keralis had thrown at him with glee the moment he mentioned that he didn't have something to wear, and again, were those, gods forbid crocks?

"'Ello everyone! Wow this is quite the turn up. Scar wished he could be here to greet you all personally, but he's still too busy helping the others preparing for the barbecue, so you're stuck with me for the time being.

Now, if you'll kindly follow me, we set everything up pretty close to here, so we'll be there in a minute."

The walk over to the beach was short, but just as scenic as the rest of the server.

Warm, golden sand, gently lapping waves and lush plant life. The sound of the hermits' laughter and soft music filled the air as the smell of the previously mentioned barbecue proved a welcome distraction from whatever the hell was happening on the far right side of the beach (the ZIT trio built a karaoke machine. It was Zedaph's idea. It was also a horrible idea but they didn't seem to realize that yet.)

As they began to debate a plan of attack, no wait. ... fun? enjoyment? eh whatever.

A tall man jogged up to the group. Some people recognized him as Mumbo Jumbo, that one british guy with the mustache. Others, however, as that semi-scary redstone wizard who managed to create extremely powerful potion launchers during the invasion.

He was dressed just as down to earth as the others, holding a tall glass of lemonade in his hand and wearing a (quite goofy) sunhat he borrowed from Ren.

He was explaining something to X in hushed tones (something or other about a minor fire at the barbecue table?) When he looked past the gathering of guests and out towards the path that they had come from, and screeched.

"GRIAN PLEASE I'M HOLDING LEMONADE DON'T!" X reached over and grabbed the glass from his hands just in time for a cackling, feathered ball of something to crash into Mumbo, knocking him into the water with an audible "oof".

There was wild thrashing as the two tried to orient themselves, Grian somehow climbing onto Mumbo's back.

"CLEMMY! COME HELP ME DROWN MUMBO!" Grian waved towards a cluster of trees to their left, underneath which a small gathering of hermits was enjoying a bit of a reprieve from the sun.

"NOT YOU TOO!" came the mustachioed man's scream of distress.

Clementine, the whole terrifying six feet and three inches of a woman that she was, took off running to the water at full tilt towards the struggling brits.

Mumbo, having already formed a strategy in his head, did a perfect T-pose and feel backwards into the water, bringing down a screaming Grian with him. Clementine did a graceful swan dive into the water (how she executed that shall be left for viewer interpretation) and happily joined the fray, even the distressed calls of Stress behind her because "Gods damn it Clemmy! I spent an hour on your hair! And now it's ruined!" couldn't persuade her to give up on her mission to cause as much friendly chaos as possible.

She climbed out of the water a few minutes later, her hair a mess and a bright smile on her face.

"Techie! Wilby! Tubbo! Thank you guys so much for coming! I'm really glad that you could make it." She hugged them each close, enjoying the comfort of having them all together again.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Techno relaxed his posture, trying not to fidget too much. He was getting better with crowds but it was still a lot.

"You may think he's joking but he literally dragged Quackity all the way to the portal because he was too busy doing his eyeliner and would've made us late." Wilbur snickered when she leaned in to hug him, earnings him one of her patented ear-splitting laughs.

"I got a recording of it!" Tubbo proudly announced, pulling out his video camera

while still holding an arm around her.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! LET ME HAVE SOME DIGNITY MAN!" The aforementioned Mr. Fattest Ass in the cabinet screamed indignantly as soon as he got within hearing range.

"Quackity you never had any dignity. It's too late for that." Techno flicked the duck shapeshifter on the head, earning him even more annoyed rambling which he just chose to ignore.

"Well, I'm glad that that's settled, now, I have some people I'd like for you to meet."

She directed them towards the group sitting in the shade, which consisted of False, (a now soaking wet) Grian, Stess, Mumbo (who also looked like a disgruntled cat that was just given a bath), Iskall and Ren.

Meanwhile Doc and Cleo had a little cornered off area they'd nicknamed the "cool kids club" (it was because around this time the sun got strong enough to actually burn her and Doc just felt slightly iffy about the water, since he was, ya know, half robot.)

Clemmy threw herself down on a blanket in front of a grumbling Stress who set about actually making her hair look presentable.

Niki sat down next to them and began discussing the merits of different styles to put Clemmy's hair into.

Ranboo sheepishly sat down next to Cleo's lawn chair folding all of his gangly limbs under himself.

Wilbur happily plopped himself down next to Ren on a blanket and began to hum along to the other's guitar.

Techno lay dow his cape, deciding that a nap was the best course of action in that moment.

Fundy hesitated for a second before going down to the shore to relax and just put his feet in the water for now.

Philza, the awkward dad that he was, chose to sit down close enough to the girls that he'd be able to hear what they were talking about without intruding.

Tubbo placed his stuff down by Clemmy's feet and ran out to the shore with his surf board in hand.

Going through so many conflicts in such a short amount of time really tires a person out, especially ones as young as the ones from the SMP so getting this afternoon of rest truly helped ease some of the stress given to them by recent events.

(Beach episode pog?)

Of course, this little get together wasn't without it's faults. About two hours in Doc accidentally trampled False's sand castle, who in retaliation teamed up with Cleo to dump water on him while he was relaxing.

This little conflict evolved into a battle to see who could build the biggest and grandest sand castle between "Team Himbo" and "Team Women" (one of those was coined by Clemmy). Puffy and Stress set up a good system of transporting sand from point A to point B, allowing them to move faster. False got placed on detailing duty while Niki brought refreshments for the rest of the team. Alyssa was mostly helping out wherever she could, as Cleo worked her armour stand magic to make their castle feel even more alive.

Clemmy just shouted encouragements and bullied the opposing team.

(The member list of Team Himbo has been redacted to avoid any drama about who might qualify as a himbo in the given circumstances)

Somehow the guys managed to convince Techno to join them, which immediately stacked odds in their favor to which Eret and Iskall, being the non-binary legends they are, decided to side with Team Women, now renamed to "Team Prettier Than You".

Their building contest laated for another hour before X decided to try to stop them (it wasn't because of the time. It was because TFC and Grian started shouting things about structural integrity and adding stone parts to the walls and the contestants actually listened when he decided that it was getting out of hand.)

Then it was time to actually enjoy the barbecue. Techno surprised everyone with how delicious his baked potatoes ended up. Beef also got to flex his skills a little with, as you guessed it, beef.

Tubbo and Tango sadly had to eat further away then everyone because the moment they got within ten feet of the fire something mysteriously combusted.

After that, the ZIT trio busted out the karaoke machine and the night went from good to great.

The old Team Star was dared to sing a rendition of Hermit Gang and everyone younger than 25 felt physical distress during some parts.

The sleepy bois (+Tubbo) sang a cover of "Your new boyfriend" (Techno got surprisingly into it) and then Wilbur swiped Ren's guitar to sing some Taylor Swift songs (accompanied by Tubbo on a synth he seemingly pulled out of nowhere) in that one weird accent he can do which had most people wheezing on the floor from laughter after the first song.

Niki threw down a german cover of Say So by Doja Cat. Grian, Phil and Tommy were unconsciously doing the parrot dancing thing. It was great.

Quackity sang something in spanish and Karl and Sapnap made over exaggerated swooning noises.

Skeppy and Bad did a duet. It was as adorable as it sounds.

Some other people also came on stage, belting out songs in such horridly broken voices that I'll spare you the details. Let's just say, nails scratching chalkboards would sound better.

And that was most of the festivities over with.

The last thing on the agenda? A meteor shower. How did they set it up? Clemmy's weird star child thing. The aforementioned girl was huddled close together with her family as they watched the comets streak across the clear sky (all electronics and artificial lights were shut off for the night) and Melohi played from a jukebox in the corner.

Fundy was laying his head in Dream's lap, the other boy was softly threading his fingers through his almost fiance's orange hair while leaning heavily on George and trying not to let sleep claim him as it had the fox (no one knew how this happened, all they were aware of is that the three had disappeared sometime during the sand castle contest only to reemerge having finally talked things through and come to an agreement that they all seemed happy with).

Ranboo, Niki, Puffy and Eret were collapsed in a happy pile just vibing.

The sleepy bois, who were for once actually sleepy, all wore matching flower crowns braided together by Stress's experienced fingers (and Wilbur's rather clumsy ones). Phil and her had managed to come to an agreement of unofficial joint custody after he witnessed Techno embarrassedly lean down to let her place a crown of golden flowers upon his head and saw his internal beam of pride when she called him "handsome".

The boys never really had a mother he mused, maybe she could teach them kindness where he couldn't.

Another surprise addition to the family was the owner of the third pair of wings in the cuddle pile. Phil didn't expect to end up with any more children at this point in his life, but Grain and Clemmy were practically attached at the hip and it felt wrong to even think about separating them.

He only hoped that those two wouldn't cause too much chaos especially when teamed up with Tubbo.

In the end, everyone drifted off to sleep, one by one they closed their eyes on their most perfect day. Praying for whatever might be out there, that they'll have many more moments just like this.

Well,

almost everyone.

Callahan chuckled as he walked back up to his spot with Alyssa farther away from the others. shutting off his camera after cycling through the pictures he took of everyone looking goofy while sleeping (His favorite is the one where Clemmy was very visibly munching on Techno's hair). He may not use those as blackmail but he sure ass hell was going to tease them about it later. He fell asleep there on that hill, drifting off to comforting rest like the others.

After that? Life moved on.

It was chaotic sure, and not perfect.

But it was theirs. They grew up slowly, learning to be kind to one another, how to grow with one another.

Life wasn't always perfect but hey, they had each other. And in the end? That's all that mattered.

[seadrops]

( jennie kim, cis woman, she/her ) — the ton welcomes CLARISSA ‘RISSA’ TOUSSAINT, the YOUNG MISS from BRIGHTON. excitement is aplenty for this social season, and i’m most certain the TWENTY-FIVE year old MISS RISSA TOUSSAINT will be no different. whispers have told me that they are ARDENT & ASTUTE, but do you not agree that they can be HAUGHTY & FANCIFUL at times? perhaps it’s because i think of floating in vast, dark waters, not knowing where you begin and where the sea ends ╱ hair gathered in a black ribbon, curls loose and wild, girlhood not entirely abandoned ╱ the turning pages of a book read well after midnight, filling the silence of your home library ╱ fingers sunk into marble skin, delicate to the eye, but unyielding to touch when i see them. surely lady whistledown knows them as THE QUIXOTIC, but i have yet to see their name in her papers. 

— penned by ciel; pinterest.

BASICS.

NAME: clarissa alaia toussaint. NICKNAME: rissa.   AGE: twenty-five.   PLACE OF BIRTH: brighton, england. NATIONALITY & ETHNICITY: british & korean. GENDER: cisgender woman. PRONOUNS: she/her. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual.  RELIGION: anglican by birth; agonistic.   PARENTS: hugo toussaint & francesca toussaint née fitzwilliam. SIBLINGS: aurora toussaint (elder), priscilla toussaint (elder), franklin toussaint (younger). LANGUAGES: english, korean (fluent), german (conversational), french (conversational) HOBBIES: notating her books, studying different philosophies across time, amateur cartography & piano playing.

STORY.

I. her mother would tell the story of her near swan song birth for years to come — how she’d cried as loud as any storm before going near lifeless, tiny body blue from lack of oxygen. how her mother felt hope and life drain from her as she lie in bed, certain her newly born infant would be called so soon to god. you were my miracle baby. thirdborn and three times as lucky, she had said with eyes so fond and full of love that rissa had not thought to look deeper than surface level.   II. if only her mother had known the possibility of misconstruing one’s own nativity story. miracle. yes, that is exactly what she was. the story of her origin only validated what she had known in her bones from early childhood. she had no doubt her siblings would go on to accomplish a multitude of things, — they were cut from the same cloth after all, and such was their inheritance — but none would become something as great as she. III. proving herself however, was a herculean task. if she was three times as lucky then she was also three times more likely to be scolded. rissa could not fight dancing to the thrum of music only she could hear, doing as she pleased from an early age. education only seemed to embolden this streak, grooming her ambition and impulsiveness to character flaws rather than mere curiosities. freeing hunting dogs from cages, writing letters to parliament, and a failed attempt to sneak into the city of london all before age nine had her mother at wits end.  IV. pandora’s box had long been opened and it was too late to unsew the stitch that had been knotted. rissa could not be dissuaded from her look upon life, her idealistic world view painted with broad strokes of philosophy on the inherent goodness every human being is born with. the loveliness of life was something she desperately clung to, shutting out the coldness of her father’s gaze and curl of her mother’s lip with flowery poetry and epic stories of faraway lands. she clung to education.  V. something ugly wound its roots around her rib cage when her younger brother was accepted to oxford. who was more deserving than her? who more zealous, more driven? who more perfect? her hunger to become something more ate away at her insides as her mother pushed to move to london for a season. she was quickly surpassing majority age, which was equally as mortifying.   VI. marriage had always been an assured aspect of rissa’s future — as sure as her shining future achievements, she would have it all. being faced with reality was never her strong suit however, and the odds of anyone of the appropriate status being interested in her and her ambitions seem slim. this goal is something she is not willing to compromise on (though she is rare to compromise in general), but her mother has opposing plans. 

QUICK FACTS.

many could mistake her rebelliousness as intent to insult her upbringing and her family at large, but they’d be wrong. her unhappiness doesn’t stem from her family or station in life, but from the truth that it is not enough. her rose colored glasses have deluded her into believing that she can have her cake and eat it too. she can be rebellious and transform the world, but still retain her status and wealth. she can have her ambitions with a spouse who supports her willingly every step of the way. whether this is true or not remains to be seen. 

she has an opinion on anything and everything and if she’s asked about something she’s never heard of or tried or done then she will do it and get back to you posthaste!

she cannot admit she’s wrong. she cannot compromise with others. she cannot admit she has a weird laugh.

she wanted to sneak to london to meet the king btw. she fr thought she could talk her way into seeing the king.

definitely spends an absurd amount of money on dresses and shoes without a doubt.

she has a poor relationship with her father as he is incredibly emotionally distant from all of his children barring his son, who he is still emotionally distant with, but can hold a conversation. that’s more than what his daughters can say, especially rissa. she’s not quite a black sheep, but she’s not too far from it at this point. not that she would allow herself to realize she’s one anyways. 

she definitely believes the world and the country must change and that things can be made better for people everywhere, but she still also believes that there’s nothing wrong with a monarchy being in place too so like…………yeah, delusional.

is also a self described pacifist. she believes almost all situations can be resolved without violence (and by extension war). 

she’s actually not religious at all. she doesn’t outright disbelieve in god, especially not publicly, but she thinks her faith and time are “better worth spent in the corporeal world” like girl shut up.

the toussaint family immigrated from france through her paternal grandparents. they had a great deal of wealth when they came to england, but a lack of title paired with french accents made them social pariahs. hugo being born and raised within the culture helped, but only so much at the time. it wasn’t until they managed to arrange a marriage between hugo and francesca that this changed — the fitzwilliams were of very high standing amongst the gentry and close with several noble families. they had the standing while the toussaints had the money; falling onto hard times with a few bad investments made the fitzwilliams desperate. marrying francesca was the ultimate move that paid off, and hugo was eventually awarded the title of baronet by the king a few short years later.

while the marriage panned out for hugo, it did not for francesca. she’s very embarrassed that she was forced to marry down and it’s always been something of a great shame of hers. hence her obsession with making sure all of her children marry as best as they can.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

her brother actually. they’d be dysfunctional as hell

maybe a potential betrothal? doesn’t have to be cemented by any means but it’d be fun bc her mother is a notorious meddler and she wants to make a really good match for rissa as she sees who her children marry as an accomplishment 

anyone who challenges her world view or train of thought

could be along the lines of the above but an intellectual rival

people she can be delusional with. let’s get crazy

idk i just want something absolutely insane