#something so funny to me to imagine Jefferson looking at his own kid and being like ‘oh this must be Spidey’s kid’

[theshadowrealmitself]

Pre Miles going out in the suit, like a mentor au where he gets trained for a bit before making his debut, Peter Parker stupidly but well meaningly sticking his nose in as Spiderman to give Jefferson some parental advice because he’s heard from Miles directly what’s going on with his relationship with parents, so obviously, if Spiderman is out giving advice like that, he has to have kids himself, right?

Doesn’t help the rumors from running rampant when Miles finally joins him on patrol for the first time

[kelyon]

Trio: A Golden Cuffs Story 5/5: Departure

Jefferson goes home

Read on AO3 here

Belle awoke to the sound of male voices. However, the bed was empty and the voices were not close. She blinked her eyes open and saw that Rumple and Jefferson were sitting in the little chairs by the table. They were fully dressed as they spoke to each other. The windows were dark and the candles were lit. Jefferson had a dish of food in front of him, but he seemed more interested in his conversation.

“Now, Narnia has portals to this world you seek--it’s where their kings and queens come from--but the doors don’t stay open all the time. I could take the hat to Narnia and go out through one of the doors there, but then it might close behind me and not open again for years. I don’t want to be stuck in a land without magic.”

“No, that would be terrible.” Rumple’s voice was distracted. He was thinking.

“Have you tried Neverland? They say the Shadow takes children from every world. He would know how to get to this land.”

“No, I have an enemy in Neverland I’m not strong enough to overcome. I won’t risk losing everything just to gain everything.”

“You have enemies in every realm you send me to.”

“That’s why I send you and don’t go places myself.”

“I’m lucky everyone I meet likes me,” Jefferson chuckled. “But I’ll keep looking for you. There has to be a way.”

“I know of one way. What I need you for is to see if there is another way. A way with a smaller price.” 

Jefferson put his hand over Rumpelstiltskin’s. “I won’t stop trying.”

Rumple put his hand over Jefferson’s. “I know you won’t.”

The conversation lulled and Belle sat up in bed, trying to look like she had just woken up and would never dream of eavesdropping. Rumple saw her and his face brightened. 

“Ah!” He said as he stood up. “Good evening!” He went to the bed and helped her get out. He conjured her robe and wrapped it around her, tying the belt with a pretty bow. “Come and sit with us.”

Belle smiled at Jefferson and knelt on the floor beside Rumpelstiltskin.

“Hello again.” Jefferson took a spoonful of stew. “That’s a lovely kimono.”

She looked down at her robe. “Thank you. It was a gift.”

“I can’t imagine who it was from.”

Rumpelstiltskin ran his hand through her hair.  “How are you, my sweet?”

“Better for having slept,” she said.

“I think I’ll be sleeping for another week once I get home,” Jefferson said with an exaggerated yawn. “I haven’t felt so thoroughly exerted in a very long time.”

“Not to your detriment, I hope?” Rumple grinned. 

“No, not at all. If nothing else, there’s no one else in this world who can serve up gumbo and that is not something I take for granted.” Jefferson stirred the food in his bowl and licked his lips.

“What is that?” Belle asked him.

“Gumbo! It’s a stew from one of our other worlds. The Dark One can replicate it exactly as it was made by the Chef-Queen of Maldonia. A bowl of this has got to be worth at least a quarter of an average human soul.”

“So four bowls of stew and you’re a slave for all eternity?”

“It would be worth it! Queen Tiana is a genius. Would you like to try some?”

Belle looked up at Rumple. “May I?”

“If you stay on your knees.”

Jefferson chuckled, a little nervously, as Belle knelt in front of him. “Dark One, I did want to get home before morning.”

“We won’t keep you. This is for our benefit, not yours.”

Belle put her hand on Jefferson’s knee. “It’s alright,” she told him. “Just give me as much as you think I deserve.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. He looked at Rumple. “And you get her to say things like that every day? How do you do any work at all?”

“She sleeps a lot. And reads. I work while she’s distracted and pleasure her when she needs distracting.”

Jefferson shook his head, smiling. “I cannot wait to tell Leo about all this. But look at me, Belle. Tilt your chin up, open your mouth, please.” He held up a spoonful of stew and put it between her lips.

It was hot. Spicy, acidic. Very good. There was a smokiness to it that she had never tasted before, as if the stew had almost burned before it had been served, but the burning wasn’t an accident. The almost-burntness was a part of what made this gumbo so special.

“Do you like it?” 

“It’s so strange,” she said, licking her lips. “It’s like… like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.”

“Like it’s from another world! I know! Do you want more?”

“Yes, please.”

He fed her spoonfuls of gumbo while Rumpelstiltskin watched. She tasted the different meats and vegetables that made up this otherworldly stew. The taste of onions was familiar, but    she couldn’t identify the other flavors. The green and red vegetables were tasty, but so unusual. On Jefferson’s spoon, Belle saw chunks of sausage and tiny pink creatures. There were funny grains that rolled around on her tongue--like barley, but softer. The broth was thick and flavorful. 

The gumbo was delicious, but the best part of eating it was seeing Rumpelstiltskin out of the corner of her eye. He looked so pleased with her, so proud and so approving. She was a good girl, she could tell. More than that, she was his good girl.

“And with that I am out of gumbo! You ate half a bowl.”  

“So I owe you one-eighth of my soul?”

“Or just promise me you’ll get him to invite me over again sometime.”

“I would like that.” She looked at Rumple. “I think we all had a good time.”

“And not to put ideas into anyone’s head, but I know Leona would be very open to seeing you both again.” 

Rumpelstiltskin stood up. “I should let you get back to her, and your daughter.”

“Yes, I’m sure the kid is driving Leo up a wall by now.” Jefferson stood and helped Belle to her feet. 

They walked down to the dining room. Belle and Jefferson were side by side now, with Rumple trailing behind them. Jefferson held his hat under his arm. 

“How old is your daughter?” Belle asked as they stepped into the dining room.

“She’ll be nine in the spring, when the lilacs bloom.”

“And what did you say her name was?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Well, I never did say,” Jefferson said a little archly. “But only because you’ve never asked before. Some people wouldn’t  like the idea of giving the name of their first-born child to the Dark One. But I am not some people.  Her name is Grace.”

“Grace.” Rumplestiltskin raised his hands like a blessing. “A curse on all that would harm her.” He lowered his hands, clapped them together in front of him. “Treasure her, Jefferson. Children are gone too soon.”

“I will,” he said. “I do.”

“If I were less greedy, I might even regret calling you away from your family.”

“For this? Have no regrets! I am always happy to be at your service, Dark One.”

“Still, I ought to compensate them for the loss of you.” 

“There’s no need.” Jefferson put his hand on Rumple’s arm below the shoulder. “I don’t come at a price,” he said sincerely. 

“But I must give you something.” Rumple was equally serious.

Jefferson sighed and stepped away. “Of course you must, Dark One. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Rumpelstiltskin held out a pendant on a length of  golden thread. “For your daughter. The charm will keep her from getting lost.”

Jefferson took the necklace and put it in the pocket closest to his heart. 

“And for your wife.” It was another necklace, a braid of pearls connecting two golden roses. There were three colors of pearls--white, black, and pink. Belle realized at once what those pearls were made of, but she forced herself not to let it show on her face.

From Jefferson’s expression, he had a pretty good idea of the true nature of the necklace. But he took it without hesitation and admired it. “Leo will love this,” he smiled. “I thank you on her behalf.”

“Women who can stomach men like us deserve all the riches we can give them. Treasure your love.”

Jefferson nudged Rumpelstiltskin in the ribs with his elbow. “I’ll treasure my love if you treasure yours, eh?”

Rumple turned to him, his head tilted to the side in honest confusion. “What?”

Jefferson also looked perplexed. “I mean…” He looked back and forth between Rumpelstiltskin and Belle.  “I meant…” He gave up. “I mean, Belle, it was wonderful to get to know you better. If you ever have need of a realm-jumper, I am your man.” 

He turned to Rumple. “I am always at your service for any task. I thank you for your hospitality and your generosity.” He took the pearls made of their pleasure and put them in his pocket. He held out his hat in a graceful bow to both of them. “Until we meet again!”

He tossed the hat spinning to the ground. The portal opened and Jefferson vanished into the swirling magic. 

For a moment after Jefferson left, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin stood side by side in silence. They stared at the floor where the portal had been. Then, Belle sank to her knees to kiss his boots.

He looked down at her. “Do you want something?”

“No,” she said simply, honestly. “I’m just happy to belong to you again. To you and you alone.”

Rumple didn’t respond to that, but he rocked on his heels. His step was spritely as he made his way to his chair at the table.

He hadn’t given her an order, but Belle crawled after him on her hands and knees. She would have kissed his boots again, but he sat with his feet propped up on the tabletop. 

“Now then, my dear, pour me a cup of tea.”

His voice was brisk and businesslike, but Belle could hear the pleasure in it. He liked owning her, as much as she liked being owned by him. Jefferson was a diversion, and a pleasant one. But Belle knew both of them were glad to go back to it just being the two of them. It was right, for there to be no one else in the world but them. 

The cuffs pulled Belle up off the ground and she hurried to bring her master his tea.

[lost-in-time-marie]

Into the Shadows: Chapter Three

         “Okay, so what’s going on with you and James?” Natasha asked, eyeing his slim, muscular frame from our table in the middle of the mall food court.

         “What do you mean?” I replied, dumbfounded, taking a bite of my extremely messy, extremely delicious burger.

         “You guys have been inseparable since he got here weeks ago,” Natasha clarified leaning close, intrigued. I laughed. Natasha sat across from me at a plastic food court table, picking at fries. Loud voices echoed around the tall room, restaurants surrounded us, and people weaved around one another trying to reach their destinations. The mall was busy on Saturday afternoons, full of teenagers free of school for the weekend.

         “I don’t know, I guess I understand what it’s like to be the new kid in school, having moved like six thousand times myself. I didn’t want to leave him scrambling all by himself to fit in and find friends,” I replied with a shrug, stealing a fry off Natasha’s plate.

         Natasha snorted, smacking my hand away, “With a face like that he wouldn’t have had any trouble finding friends.”

         “I wanted him to have real friends; it’s my instinct to help. Besides, I was a little intrigued too,” I smiled. Natasha rolled her eyes.

         “More like you thought he was hot,” Natasha muttered around a mouth full of fries.

“Speaking of thinking people who are hot, what’s going on with you and Aleks over there?” I asked, raising a brow, and jerking my thumb behind me. Natasha’s dark eyes flitted over my shoulder and rested on the tall, thick body of Aleks standing in line for food beside James.

         Natasha looked thoughtful, then replied “James is very friendly and has a great sense of humor. He’s smart and can keep up with us easily. I hear good things about him through the information grapevine; very popular, well-liked by everyone. He’s just…very private. I know I’ve only known him for a few weeks now, but I still know almost nothing about him, not even his favorite food or color,” Natasha observed, entirely avoiding my comment about Aleks. I nodded, carefully mulling over her opinion, before drawing her back to Aleks.

         “Nice evasion, but I invented that tactic,” I grinned.

         Natasha rolled her eyes, “There is nothing going on between Aleks and I. It’d just be weird,” she hedged, not meeting my gaze.

“Yeah, and I can breathe underwater,” I retorted sarcastically, giving her a disbelieving look.

         “Okay, okay,” Natasha laughed, trying to keep down her fries, “I find him kind of, a little, extremely attractive. It’s no big deal. I just stalk him from afar and imagine a relationship with him.”

         “You are so hopeless,” I managed to utter between our uncontrollable laughter.

         “Hey guys, what’s so funny?” Aleks asked, walking up to the table with a tray in his hands and taking a seat beside Natasha, who looked quite pleased. James followed closely behind, taking a seat beside me. Everyone chatted happily and ate their lunches. Natasha and Aleks, after a while, got pulled into their own private debate, as they were accustomed to doing, so I entertained myself by interrogating James.

         “So what school did you go to before the fabulous Jefferson High?” I teased.

         “It’s a little ways South of here, you wouldn’t know it,” James half-answered, his charming smile spreading across his face. I loved that smile, it made my head swim a little, the way it made the corners of his dark eyes crinkle and seemed to radiate warmth and happiness.

         “Believe it or not, James, but that was not an actual answer to my question,” I persisted, no way he was getting off that easy. Maybe his head-swimming smile made the other girls forget he hadn’t really answered a single question since he arrived at our school, but no way I was so easily fooled.

         He chuckled, “Alright, you caught me, I was homeschooled before Jefferson High.”

         “A real answer, at last!” I joked, nudging his shoulder. He smiled again, staring down at me with those intense dark eyes. The lashes surrounding them were thick and black, enough to make any girl a little jealous. Perfect ringlets of dark brown hair fell into his eyes and I resisted the urge to brush them away.

         “So what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?” Natasha asked, pulling me back to reality.

         “Oh,” I thought turning to look at her, “You really don’t have to get me anything,” I said, having completely forgotten it was even tomorrow.

         “Not that garbage again,” Natasha complained loudly.

         “I don’t know, I really don’t need anything,” I shrugged.

         “What do you want then?” Natasha stressed. An image of a masked figure warning me to stay away from dark streets flitted through my mind without my permission. I attempted to violently clamp down on those thoughts. I didn’t like to engage my clearly delusional thinking any more than I had to. I wasn’t entirely sure I wasn’t losing my mind or imaging the figure altogether, but it was too late, and my imagination took off without needing any prodding. I hadn’t seen the figure in almost a month, since the last incident. I obediently heeded the warning and didn’t go out at night. Better not test my chances three times. I wanted to see him or it or whatever it was again, I needed to know what was going on.

         “I don’t want anything either, just spending time with you guys is fun,” I smiled. “Although, I do need to go to this one store before we leave, I’ll be right back,” I announced, getting up from the table, eager to remove myself from the topic of conversation.

         “I’ll go with you,” James offered, standing up.

         “You really don’t need to come with me,” I replied, “I’ll just be a minute.”

         “I insist,” James said, flashing me his most charming smile, “Besides, I don’t think they’ll really miss my company.” He nodded his head in the direction of Aleks and Natasha, already pulled back to each other’s gravity, leaning closer to each other with every passing minute. I laughed and rolled my eyes, before looping my arm through his and strolling through the mall. I looked down to hide my smile and slight blush.

         “What do you need at this store anyways?” James asked as we wandered through the mall.

         “Somehow, Natasha convinced me going to a club in the city for my birthday would be a good idea, so now I need an outfit,” I answered, thinly veiling my slight distress. I recalled the months of begging it had taken her to convince me to go. Partying had never really been my thing, and as much as I wanted to do something fun and different for my seventeenth birthday, a club was not the first thing that came to mind. Not to mention the fact her plan involved lying to my mom and telling her I was having a sleepover at Natasha’s, another thing I was also not fond of.

         James simply raised a brow before shaking his head and chuckling, surely imagining the scene.

         “Exactly,” I said, laughing with him.

         “And what does one wear to such out of character, unplanned nights?” James asked.

         “God only knows, Natasha will probably complain no matter what I get, honestly,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

         It took another three circles around the huge mall before I finally settled on a silver sparkly tank top and black skinny jeans. James assumed the role any male plays when uncomfortably watching a girl shop, getting distracted by non-clothing related items and awkwardly standing around while I browsed. He was patient though, and cracked jokes about the various people and stores as we walked. When we reached the register to pay for the new clothes, he quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for it all before I could even react.

         “Why did you do that? I could have paid for that myself,” I complained once we exited the store into the dimly lit mall hallways.

         “Oh, don’t freak out, it was no trouble,” He smiled charmingly, his brown eyes softening, practically melting. I poorly attempted to force my head to stop swimming under his gaze.

         “But-” I started, still slightly dazed.

         “Happy birthday,” He whispered, interrupting, before handing me the bag and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

      I jiggled my knee anxiously as I sat in the soft leather seat of Natasha’s car, the leather from my tall black boots made an irritating scratching noise against the seat.

“Would you calm down?” Natasha sighed, peeling her eyes off the road momentarily to give me an annoyed glance. Natasha’s hair hung pin straight tonight, occasionally drifting into her line of vision before she expertly twisted it in place behind her ears. Her blue jeans, black high tops, and green tank top wouldn’t exactly fit in with the typical club crowd, but she didn’t care.

“Well, Miss Lip-Piercings-And-Wrist-Tattoo, I’m not used to being bad and lying. What if something happens?” I worried, biting my lip and staring out the window as we crawled along the highway into the city. I shifted uncomfortably in my own sparkly, silver tank top and black skinny jeans tucked into my favorite tall leather boots; a very different outfit choice compared to my usual t-shirt, jeans, and converse. Everywhere we went, I felt like everyone stared, a sensation I was not used to, nor did I grow to appreciate.

Her hand flew to the two piercings in her lower lip defensively, before she rolled her eyes and retorted, “Now you sound like your mother, and nothing will happen, for the ten millionth time! Don’t be such a goody-goody.” Despite Natasha and I’s long standing relationship, my mother never approved of her “bad influence”, and by that she always meant her wrist tattoo and multiple facial piercings. In reality, my mother was extremely uptight and overprotective, Natasha helped loosen me up, and although I thanked her later, breaking the rules always twisted my stomach a little. Quite an unlikely pair we made, but I wouldn’t survive without my best friend.

I sighed, mentally calming myself. “You’re right, tonight I am officially seventeen. We’re going to be two carefree teenagers having an excellent time,” I said, mostly for my own benefit.

“Exactly,” Natasha concurred.

It wasn’t long before Natasha’s sleek, white car, pulled smoothly into the dim parking garage next to the club. After searching for a spot, we continued down to the club and got in line, all the while chatting idly about school, boys, and my birthday. The line was short; it didn’t take long to get in the club. In under an hour we were surrounded by sweaty, grinding bodies, dizzying strobe lights, enough fake smoke to make you gag, and pounding music so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. Exactly what we came here for.

We quickly joined the throng and swayed to the music. Somehow, I always looked much less graceful and beautiful compared to Natasha and the other dancers, but tonight I didn’t care. I came here to not think or judge or be anything but one synchronized member of this dancing pack.

“Thank you so much for taking me here!” I shouted to Natasha over the beat of the dance music. Somehow, Natasha always knew me better than myself. I didn’t realize it before I was lost in the chaos of the night, that I had needed this, an escape, a chance to just be normal. She nodded and laughed, clearly pleased the world was still in its usual order and she was right, again.

“I’m going to get a soda, you want anything?” I asked. She nodded again and together we squeezed through the pack to get to the bar at the very back of the large, open room. I ordered us two Dr. Peppers and the bartender promptly placed two cans in front of us.

“This is such a rush,” Natasha enthused, her freckled face slightly pink and shiny with exhaustion and sweat. I nodded, the only response I could form between chugging down my soda, trying to twist my brown hair off my sweaty neck, and tugging on my silver tank top to let some air reach my stomach. When I wasn’t dancing and embracing the sweet anonymity of the crowd, the claustrophobia and anxiety started to set in immediately.

“Oh my god! Kristin? Is that you?” A high-pitched voice screeched from the dance floor. I cringed inwardly. I recognized that voice all too well. Please, let it not be her, I prayed silently, but this time no one was listening to my pleas apparently. The short, thin, overly enthusiastic Kim bounced toward the bar in all her dyed brown hair, brown eyed glory. I noticed the taller, even thinner figure of Stephanie trailing behind her, with matching shades of long brown hair and brown eyes. Their skin gave a sickly appearance, a combination of off-tone concealer and the dizzying strobe lights. Last in the line was Elizabeth, the same height and build as Kim, but with blonde hair and tan skin, for a change in pace. I suppressed a groan. It wasn’t just Kim; it was the entire pack.

“Please, just dry drown me in my soda,” I begged Natasha softly as the girls bounded over. Natasha folded her thin, pink lips around a laugh as I plastered on my best cheery smile.

“Hey, Kristin! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Elizabeth gushed, the three of them stood before us now in skimpy, flashy clubbing clothes. My back pressed against the bar and my three least favorite human beings on my other side, did little to ease my sense of claustrophobia.

“Mmm,” I murmured sipping my soda, the edge of the bar really digging into my spine now, as if I pressed myself into it further it might somehow incorporate me into its form.

“This isn’t really your scene, what are you doing here?” Stephanie asked, the calmest, least excitable of them all.

“Birthday celebration,” I responded, speaking as little as possible. Stephanie just nodded coolly.

“Ooh, happy birthday!” Kim cooed, “And you actually look like a girl tonight, too!” She enthused, a devilishly sweet smile on her round face.

“Yeah, I just discovered the girl’s section in Wal-Mart. Who knew that was there?” I replied sarcastically; mock cheer dripping from my every word. Kim and Elizabeth cringed and looked at me as though I were some kind of alien. Natasha was trying very hard not to spit out her soda and bust out laughing behind me.

“So, do you want to dance with us for awhile?” Stephanie asked, changing the subject. I pulled my phone from my back pocket.

“Ooh, sorry, I have to go. Curfew and all, maybe next time,” I lied, suddenly eager to go back to Natasha’s. They said goodbye and headed back to the dance floor.

“Thank god,” Natasha groaned, “I hate them so much.”

“Tell me about it. ‘Oh, you actually look like a girl tonight’” I mimicked Kim’s high pitched squealing exactly, “I hate how condescending she is,” I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever, don’t let them ruin your night. It’s hot as hell in here and I don’t want to run into them again, I’m going to go pull the car around, wait for me out front,” Natasha said, throwing down a couple bills to pay for our drinks.

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” I replied, following her out to the front of the club. It was cold outside in my thin tank top; I shivered and hugged my arms against the breeze.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “It’s fine, the garage is right up the road. It’s your birthday, I won’t make you walk. I pity the person that tries to take me,” Natasha laughed, joking easily. I sighed. It’s pointless to try to argue with her once she’s made up her mind.

“Fine,” I replied begrudgingly, “Be careful!” I called after her as she walked just up the road to the car. The road had really emptied out since we first came into the club, it was darker somehow now, and the stench of the city floated through the air. There was no quiet here though, the way there sometimes could be on Long Island. Honking horns, yelling voices, stray animals fighting for survival in the alleys; inescapable noise constantly rising and swarming the ears of the city residents. We certainly were not in the nicer part of town, garbage mixed with stale alcohol assaulted my nose. The eerie desolation of the street made my hair stand on end.

         “Happy birthday,” A playful voice called. A figure somersaulted off the roof of the club behind me and landed in front of me. I jumped in surprise, a squeal escaping me before I could stop it.

         “Calm down,” The figure laughed, “it’s just me.”

         “Oh,” I sighed in relief, my body relaxing of its own accord, “I was a little worried for a second; I broke my no going out at night rule.”

The figure chuckled and leaned against the unlit streetlamp on the sidewalk across the street from me. A strange thought occurred to me just then. This street had been well-lit when Natasha and I had first arrived, it wasn’t just my imagination. I peered down the block, and sure enough, every lamp sat dark and empty of their former glow. With no moon tonight and not even a hint of artificial light, I could barely make out the figure’s black mask and pale face; the shadows seemed to swallow him, hiding him away from my view. I decided that the figure seemed distinctly masculine, it was the deep tenor of his voice and the cocky air about him, unmistakable for a precocious young male.

         “How’d you know it was my birthday?” I asked, squinting, attempting to recognize any feature of the figure. I tried and failed to form the image of someone’s familiar face hiding under that mask. “What are you doing here, anyways? I’m not in danger.” I asked confused, taking another step forward. Is that dark hair? I couldn’t tell when he ended, and shadow began, or vice versa.

         “It’s not every day I save the same girl twice, usually it’s just strangers, I figured I could at least stop by for your birthday,” He laughed in the same easy, musical way, taking a step back to match my every step forward. It gave me the strange sense of being locked in a dance.

         “How’d you know it was my birthday?” I asked again, taking another eager step forward.

         “Remember, dark streets are dangerous at night,” He grinned, the echo of his laugh reached me before he disappeared into the shadows. I raced forward to catch him knowing he was already long gone. A little box with silver wrappings gleamed on the ground in the place he stood just moments ago. I smiled, picked up the box, and gingerly tugged it open. A small, intricate rose charm on a silver chain fell into my hand. I smiled at the beautiful trinket and clasped the necklace around my neck.

         “Thank you,” I whispered mostly to myself, staring into the dark that had enveloped him, and fingering the charm. The bright headlights of Natasha’s car suddenly blinded me as she turned the corner.

         “Get in!” She yelled, honking the horn. I turned away from the dark alley my figure had retreated into, quickly snapping back to reality. I ran across the street and jumped into the familiar interior of Natasha’s Prius. At least there would always be one stable, sane thing in my life. As we peeled off down the street, I stole one last glance behind me. The street was somehow unchanged following my encounter, dirty and empty, just as it had been. This time, however, I noticed gold light filtering down on the dirty asphalt street from every well-lit streetlamp going all the way down the block, their light illuminating every discarded bottle and stray cigarette butt in their wake. I struggled to find some meaning to this and failed. My head began to spin, all the images from the night flashing behind my eyes, out of order and without any sense to them. I let my head rest against the cool glass of Natasha’s window as we drove towards familiar roads and neighborhoods.

[oc-character-development]

Fallout 3 Fanfic

The Last Night

Description: Clarissa Hamilton-Matthews (or more commonly known as Clary Hamilton or The Lone Wanderer) has got her dad back. Except their journey to Rivet City doesn’t go to plan and James is forced to take a rest for his daughters sake. This thankfully gives them more bonding time, leading the truth of the Lone Wanderer’s time away from her dad comes to light.

“You know, you really should be sleeping”

The Lone Wanderer’s dad pointed out as he sat down next to her by the fire as she watched Charon keep an eye out for danger.

Clary hummed in acknowledgement at this statement but had no intention of rectifying what she was doing.

It had been getting dark by the time they’d stepped out of Vault 112, and made their way along the road to Rivet City, with Clary’s ghoulish friend helping them out, and the roads were of no means safe, so of course they were bound to run into Raiders at some point or another, which is exactly what happened. To get rid of them Clary had formed a plan, a reckless plan that involved shooting a car engine with her gun and timing it to explode when most of the raiders were near enough to the vehicle. She’d told Charon to cover her dad, and set it in motion, surprisingly, it had worked, except when the car exploded she was too close to the vehicle and got knocked back from the blast, being thrown a few feet back and into the hard road below their feet, knocked unconscious. James had managed to carry his daughter to safety as Charon had fought off the rest of the raiders, killing them. James has decided it was best to set up camp after administrating Clary with a couple of Stimpacks. So that was where they were now, with the nineteen year old laying slumped against what remained of a house that appeared to have been knocked down right before before the bombs dropped, with her father right at her side and her ghoul friend on look out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is the exact relationship between you two?” Her father questioned, referring to Charon, Clary glanced at her father, his greying hair surprisingly neat for being out in the wasteland but his beard, was less so. She hesitated, oh boy how to explain this situation without sounding like a slave-owner.

“I purchased his contract-”

“So he’s a slave?” James raised an eyebrow. Step one- avoid sounding like a slave owner failed.

“-I haven’t finished” Clary interrupted “I bought Charon’s contract, but only because his previous employer was treating him horribly. He’s not my slave or servant or anything, he’s my friend, that’s it, he’s under the impression that I own him despite me telling him I don’t- I’m not honouring his contract, he’s free, he just wanted to go with me regardless” Clary said “he’s my friend”

That was the truth after all. She just really wasn’t good at explaining things.

Her father had seemingly got what she was saying though , that Charon felt obligated to serve her but, in no way was he her slave, and his daughter was trying to teach him that he wasn’t bound to her or obligated to serve her in any way.

“I don’t know how you could have been so reckless, putting yourself in danger like that- it’s going to take a bit longer to get to Rivet City now”

Oh here we go, no how are you? No how are you feeling Clary? No, I’m sorry I left you in the Vault with a manic of an Overseer. Is that what their relationship was now? That she was now always going to come second to an idea, a project?

“Bastard” Clary muttered under her breath

“Clary-”

“You utter Bastard”

“Clarissa” her father’s eyes narrowed at his daughter’s use of language she never used to swear unintentionally at anyone, let alone her own dad. Something had to have been bothering her. That’s when it all came to a head, all the resentment she had felt towards her dad spilling out into one sentence, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

“How could you leave me like that? What the hell were you thinking?”

There was a pause as James processed what she had just asked him. Realising that his daughter had not taken him leaving easily, as he knew would happen deep down in his heart, his daughter was heartbroken at the idea that he would leave her without saying goodbye.

He sighed, his soft expression on his face contrasting his daughters hardened expression.

“I wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want this for you- a life out here in this god forsaken warzone. I couldn’t tell you what I was doing because I didn’t want you following me” He explained “A plan which clearly was not as successful as I imagined it would be”

Clary’s expression turned from one from anger to one of hurt, since when did he know what was best for her? Since when did he have the right to dictate how she should live her life? Since the entire Vault had decided to lie to their entire offspring apparently- did she mean so little to him that he’d choose a dead woman’s dream over their own daughter?

“Is this about mum? Are you trying so hard because of what happened to her?”

“Oh my daughter. If only you could have known how much it meant to her. She believed in the work we are doing and was so determined to see it through. She gave up so much for the project. We all did, and I don’t want that to have been for nothing”

Clary slumped back in defeat. She’d gotten an answer to her questions but not the one she was after, her father had been ready to throw away his only living connection to his mother for the sake of her dream, which was something she’d have to live with, she’d have to live with the fact she’d come second, to some kind of project she didn’t know anything about. And even though her father would deny that fact- say that she’d always come first- it sure felt like she didn’t but- she supposed she was okay with that. If it meant she’d get her father back. That was an okay reality, to live in.

“So what exactly is this ‘Project Purity’?” She sighed conceding to her father’s view of things. He smiled, realising that she was now able to know the truth of it all.

“It started as an idea, really. Remember the bible passage your mother loved so much? Free, clean water for everyone. What a difference it could make in the lives of everyone here in the Wastes”

“Over time, the idea took the form of a purifier. Not like the one in the Vault, though. This one was gigantic, capable of purifying millions of gallons of water at once. We used the old Jefferson Memorial for the location, right on DC’s Tidal Basin. Someday soon, I hope you’ll see it work”

Clary went quiet. She wanted to see what her father had been working on, see her mothers dream, truly she did, but she couldn’t help but realise that it would be built on not only the dreams or her mother but the bloodshed that could have been prevented if her father had just stayed in the Vault or even just raised her on the surface. And as if on cue, her father unknowingly approached the topic of bloodshed with an innocent sentence of explanation.

“Jonas was supposed to tell you everything” James spoke “once I had gone. He was supposed to tell you everything, get you to understand why I left”

Clary remained silent and looked down at the dusty ground beneath her. Her eyes started to burn as she remembered what had happened In the Vault to the man in question. How was she going to tell her dad that his apprentice, the man she’d grown up seeing as a brother, was dead?

“Dad” Clary‘s voice shook, the tears that were threatening to rise to the surface “Jonas is dead”

James watched as Clary pulled out the glasses that once belonged to one of her only friends in the Vault from her Vault suit pocket, and glanced at her dad, who was saddened by the news, hurt at the news of the passing of one of their closest friends, His voice was unusually quiet as he spoke “

What happened?”

“I-I don’t know- I think- I think the guards must have got him before he could reach me- the overseer- it was like a switch flipped- he wanted to get rid of all those he suspected of helping you- he ordered the security to go after Jonas- then me, hell he even interrogated Amata for helping me escape- What kind of a father does that to his own daughter?”

“Clary” Her dad had noticed her subconsciously fiddling with their lost friend’s glasses and cleared his throat remaining strong for his only child “this is not your fault”

“If I had just found him in time- if I’d have stayed up instead of going to bed-“

“It’s my fault, I thought the Overseer would only blame me and leave you and Jonas alone”

Jonas’ dead body was still fresh in the mind of the teenager. But she hated that image, she wanted the image of the Jonas that would play Doctor with her, or talk to her when she was down and her father wasn’t around, or race her down the halls of the Vault or sometimes put his glasses on her as a laugh because they looked big on her as a kid and it was funny and in return she’d tease him about his bad eyesight. Not the Jonas riddled with bullets, feeling guilty over his death. But it also wasn’t just Jonas she felt guilty over- there was a few other things she felt guilty over as well.

“I killed him”

“Pardon?”

“I killed the Overseer” Clary said suddenly “I just- swung when the overseer came at me whilst I was rescuing Amata and I hit him too hard, and now Amata hates me”

“You killed him in self defence”

“My best friend hates me dad, Jonas is dead, nobody wants me in the Vault anymore, I killed all those people in the simulation- it hurts dad”

James looked at his daughter, noticing that her face was now stained with tears, she’d gone through a lot- things had happened that she thought was her cross to bear when it was his. None of this would have happened had it been for him, he’d hurt his daughter and there was nothing that he could do to stop the pain that he suspected an deeper than anybody knew. But he knew how to elevate it, at least a little. He wrapped his arms around her scooping her up into a hug just like he used to do as a child, as she sobbed relentlessly against him.

“I-I just want the pain to stop”

“Shh, I know” he whispered soothingly brushing his hand against the back of her head like he used to do when she was little “I’m sorry, honey, I really am”

“Dad?” She sniffled against him

“Yes”

“I love you”

“I Love you too sweetheart” her father replied “Now try and get some rest”

Clary closed her eyes, exhausted from the emotions she had felt, finally drifting off to sleep in the safety of her father’s arms. Realising that actually, he did still care about her she had one thought running through her mind. She had a lot of walking do tomorrow, but, for now she was just glad to have her dad back and she wasn’t going to let him leave her like that ever again, even if she had to put herself in danger to do it. She was never letting him out of her sight again, she promised herself that and if she couldn’t do that, she promised that whatever happened, that she’d see his and her mother’s dream come to fruition.

She swore to it on her mother’s grave.

Note: sorry if this isn’t good. I’m not feeling 100% and that, I find does have an impact on my writing. Also, my Lone Wanderer is not very good at expressing her feelings especially when they’re conflicting, as in she’s happy to see her dad and is more than happy that she’s got him back, she just feels like she’s being been abandoned and is still being abandoned in favour of a project she knows little about. anyway thanks for reading!

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Things Half in Shadows (14/14)

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairings: Gold/Belle (eventually) with side pairings that probably include Graham/Bay, Archie/Emma and others.

Summary: The first thing you learn, back in Psych 101, is that you never get emotionally involved with a patient.  For 25 years Dr. Gold hasn’t had a problem walking that fine line.  Something changes, though, when he meets Belle French. AU

Author’s Note: I can’t begin to express what this fic and the people who read it have meant to me.  Thank you all.  This is the last chapter.  I chose to leave it here and pick it up again in a sequel.  The second half is relationship-centric and will begin with Belle leaving Storybrooke.

TRIGGER WARNING: Indirect mentions of abuse and sexual assault

<Prologue><Chapter 1><Chapter 2> <Chapter 3> <Chapter 4> <Chapter 5> <Chapter 6> <Chapter 7> <Chapter 8> <Chapter 9> <Chapter 10> <Chapter 11> <Chalpter 12> <Chapter 13>

Chapter 14 - Small Steps

II

There was a book on the table next to her customary cup of tea.  The cover was free of words, only a pattern of roses that looked like an old bit of wallpaper.

“A journal?” she guessed.  She’d never kept a diary before and felt a flutter in her stomach when she remembered the last time her doctor had asked her to write anything.  Eight words and everything had changed.  For the better, maybe, someday, but nothing had ever hurt so much.  She hadn’t had the numbness to shield her.  She would try, though, if he asked.

“While that’s never a bad idea that’s not my intent today.  It is for writing but I don’t want you to write about yourself.”  

“Who should I be writing about?”  She knew he wouldn’t ask her to write about her father.

“You read a lot of stories, Belle.  It’s a comfort to step into the world someone else created, to attend a ball with Elizabeth Darcy or to push the Dread Pirate Roberts down a hill.  I want to see you try writing a story with your own words.  It can be as simple or as complex as you like.”  From his pocket he took a pen, resting it on top of the book.

“That’s it?  Just write something?”  She hadn’t written anything since a creative writing class she took her first semester in college.  She couldn’t remember if she’d liked it or not.

“Anything you want.  When you’re done you can show it to anyone you want or you can keep it to yourself.  You can show it to me, but only if that’s what you want.”  He took a sip of his tea.  Belle remembered her own cup and took a sip, and a bite of the coffee cake he’d brought in that morning.  She liked the blueberries.  “What’s the first story you remember as a child?”

“Cinderella.”  She was distracted by the book, picking it up and running her fingers over the lightly textured cover before opening it up.  The pages were blank.  So much empty space; it seemed lonely without words.  “Not the Disney one; it was a pop-up book.  There was this page with all the stairs and in the middle the glass slipper.  I remember running my fingers up and down the stairs, pretending I’d lost my shoe.  One page had the carriage and you could open the door and look inside.  I wanted to shrink so I could fit inside, just for a little while.  It was such a pretty little carriage.”

“Perhaps you can tell the story of a little girl who did manage to shrink,” he suggested.  “When my son was wee there was a story he loved about a family that lived in the walls of a house.”

“I loved Thumbelina.  My mama would watch the movie with me; it was the first VHS I remember owning.  We liked to sing the songs together.”  They would cuddle under a blanket and share a bowl of popcorn that they’d made together on the stove.  Her mama loved to sing.  She’d almost forgotten how she’d sung when she was washing the dishes, or combing her hair, and always at bedtime.  “I don’t remember anything about the movie except that she was little and there was singing.”

“I’m sure we could find a copy, sometime.”  He scribbled a note on a piece of paper.  It was strange, most psychiatrists she had seen wrote a lot.  Some seemed to barely look at her, they were so busy writing about what she said.  Her doctor rarely wrote more than a few sentences and she always got the feeling that it was making sure he remembered things rather than analyzing her.   “It sounds like a memory worth holding onto.”

“I think it is.”  It hurt to think about her mama; maybe it always would.  But it made her feel warm, too, to remember the way they had sung together.  Maybe getting better meant that the warm was just as strong as the hurt.  She took another bite of her coffee cake and waited for questions about her mama that didn’t come.  Her doctor turned back to the subject of stories for the rest of her session.

II

Belle’s entrance to the art room was blocked by the sprawled form of Jefferson on the floor, arms and legs both spread eagle.  She held her new book to her chest and looked down at him, wondering if she needed to go back and get help.  His eyes were open, though, and she couldn’t see anything that looked like danger.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just being a drama queen.”  August leaned against the back of a chair nearby.  “Even more so than usual.”

“I’m bor-ed.  Bored.  B-b-b-bored.”

“I’m starting to get the idea that Jefferson’s bored.  Anyone else getting that feeling?”  Ruby was using the art scissors to trim bits of her hair.

“Does this place have a yelp?  I’m giving them one star.  Can I do no stars?  I’m going to do that.  The food is pedestrian, the entertainment is abysmal, and I’m sure there’s beds of nails that are more comfortable than what passes for accommodation here.”

“Fortunately there’s always the chance that a patient will provide entertainment,” Ruby said pointedly.

“You call this entertaining?”  August rolled his eyes.

“Do you think they might let us have a picnic?”  Belle offered tentatively.  They’d had sunny afternoons the last couple of days.

“A party.”  Jefferson sat up.  “Rabbit, you’re brilliant.”

“Christmas is over.”  From the corner of the room a small sad voice piped up.  Astrid was working on something involving glue and a lot of glitter.  

“Anyone have a birthday coming up?”  Jefferson asked hopefully.

“Mine was last month.”  Mary Margaret was the first to pop Jefferson’s bubble.  Belle just shook her head. No one had mentioned holidays or birthdays since she’d arrived, almost as if time was standing still.  Maybe that’s what they all hoped, that time was still and they would be able to just slip into their lives when they returned home.  If they returned.

“This is perfect.  Bake the cake and hire the clowns, we’re having a birthday party.”  Jefferson shot up so fast it was hard to tell how he’d gotten to his feet.  

“No on has a birthday until June, sweetie,” Ruby reminded him.

“Please tell me you’re not serious about clowns.”  August crossed his arms.  “That’s not funny.”

“If it’s no one’s birthday then it’s everyone’s unbirthday.  What’s better than an unbirthday party?”  He raced around the room, pulling fake flowers and ribbons from bins, stopping behind Astrid’s chair to lean down low.  “More glitter, little mouse.  We need more sparkle.”

“This is going to be interesting.”  Ella picked up the flower that had landed in her lap.

“That’s one word for it,” August commented, pointedly ignoring the ribbons that had landed on his shoulder.  “Not the word I’d pick, though.”

II

“Have you ever read any fairy tales?”  Belle threw a pea into the lake, a little farther from the shore this time.  The ducklings were getting bigger now, and Graham said that they needed to work a little for their food.

“Maybe when I was a kid.  I don’t remember, really.”  They reached for a pea at the same time, their fingers touching.  Belle hardly thought about it, or the fact that only a few weeks ago it would have startled her.

“I was rereading some yesterday.”  She had hoped they would inspire her own idea for a story.  “They’re very black and white.  Stepmothers are always evil.  The princess is always good and pure. Fairy godmothers will always help.  Wolves can’t be trusted.”

“A lot of people don’t understand about wolves.  They’re nobel.”  Graham tossed another pea into the water, a little farther from the ducks.  One of the ducklings dove to get it and came up, shaking out its feathers.  

“Maybe it’s easier to pretend that the scary things are so simple.  As easy to see as a wolf in pajamas.”  Fairytales never taught you to be scared of the people that said they loved you; at least none that she’d found.

“Wolf wouldn’t be happy wearing anyone’s pajamas, but he does like sleeping bags.  I had to buy one for him or I’d never get any sleep when we go out.  He gets in and curls up until all you can see is his nose.  He has to carry it, though, if he wants it.”  The last of the peas were gone.  Graham opened the other bag he’d brought and set out two white chocolate cranberry cookies.

“He carries his sleeping bag?”  Graham had mentioned camping, once.  Belle had never had a pet, but didn’t imagine that was something they usually did.  

“It clips onto his harness. He’s always excited when I put it on because he knows we’ll sleep outdoors.  Besides, I carry food for both of us, it’s only fair he carries his own bedding.”  Graham took a bite of one of the cookies and pushed the other one a little closer to her.  “Somehow I ended up with an extra if you want one.”

“Thank you.”  Nurse Whale had mentioned she was up seven pounds and had been pleased when he added the note to her file.  Someday maybe she could meet her doctor’s son and thank him for all the muffins and cookies.  “Does Wolf have to carry his own tent too?”

“We don’t use a tent.  Just a sleeping bag apiece and a campfire.  Can’t see the stars in a tent, and they tell a different story every night.”  it was midday but still Graham looked up at the sky as if he could see the stars.

“What happens if it rains?”  

“We get wet.”  Graham shrugged.  “If it’s a heavy storm we find a shelter.  But look at the ducklings, they love to get wet.  A lot of animals do.  There’s nothing harmful in a little rain, and afterwards everything smells new.’

“I’ve never been camping.”  She and her mama used to make tents out of sheets and imagine they were camping.  They made s’mores in the oven and ate them sitting around a flashlight.  She’d mentioned camping to her papa once and he’d taken her to a resort that summer in upstate New York.  They’d served a chocolate mousse topped with meringue and graham cracker and called it a s’more.  Her papa had called her princess and gifted her with her first bikini.  She’d ‘lost’ it after the second day, and was glad they never went back.  

“There’s berries and mushrooms growing on the other side of the lake, at the edge of the woods.  It’s not camping but we could go for a walk,” he suggested, finishing his cookie.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”  She’d never walked past the edge of the lake.

“As long as you stay with me.”

II

By the time they returned from their walk Belle had almost forgotten about fairytales.  Graham had shown her the signs of edible mushrooms, but cautioned her not to eat any without him there.  He’d pointed out a nest in a branch that still held eggs.  There was a bush full of berries that might make a good cookie.  Her questions had been tentative at first but he’d answered them all, speaking more than he usually did.  She was eager to learn more and he walked with her to the library to point out a few books they had about local flora and fauna.  Caught up in the books she almost didn’t notice someone joining them in the library.

“Belle.”  Gaston had his hands in his pockets, his height seeming so much taller than she remembered.  “Can we talk?”

“Visitor’s hours are Saturday.  This isn’t a good time.”  Graham took two steps to his right, coming between her and the doorway.

“You’re not Belle, so I wasn’t talking to you.  I was talking to my fiance.”  Gaston was less forceful than usual, but she knew that he wouldn’t leave.  

“It’s okay, Graham.”  She didn’t know what he wanted, but it was usually quicker to give it to him than argue.  Logic wasn’t Gaston’s strongest suit.  “He’s driven a long way to be here.  We can talk.”

“You heard her.  I’m sure there’s someone else in this place that needs your attention.”  Gaston sat on one of the sofas, his feet on the table.  Belle was reminded of his home office, though the Storybrooke library didn’t have any animal heads mounted on the walls.

“Right now my job is to be here.”  Graham crossed his arms.  Gaston’s cheek muscle twitched.

“Can we have a few minutes, Graham?  You could wait right outside the door.”  She could call for him if she needed him.  She wondered if she actually would.

“A few minutes and the door stays open,” Graham agreed reluctantly.  Once he was out of the room Belle dug her nails into the arm of the couch.  She tried to remember what it was like to sit at dinner with him and make small talk.  

“You look good, Gaston.”  He had a tan that she knew came from a tanning bed this time of year and a body sculpted with the help of a personal trainer named Lefou.

“You look… fine.”  His eyes swept over her, and she knew he was seeing the hair pulled back in a ponytail and the bulky sweater that was warm but unfashionable.  She hadn’t put on any makeup since she’d arrived, except the nail polish Ruby had used a few days ago to make her nails a pale pink.  “Are you… fine?”

“I’m learning a lot about myself.”  Fine was right up there with okay on the list of words she didn’t know how to define.  There were a lot of things people said to each other that didn’t mean anything, polite lies that meant not talking about anything real..

“Moe said you would be coming home soon.”  Belle flinched, but she was certain Gaston didn’t notice.  

“I’m not ready for that.”  Belle shook her head.  She wouldn’t ever return to the place that Gaston called home.  For weeks she had asked Doctor every day about the restraining order, needing the reminder that it was real.  She had spoken to the sheriff once, as well.  It had been almost a month now, and no lawyers had shown up.  No threats had been made.  She was beginning to believe she was safe for him, at least within the small world of Storybrooke.  What happened when she left she didn’t know; she didn’t have a home anymore.

“I don’t understand why you’re here.  You’re not like them.”  He gestured towards the doorway, where the sounds of art therapy could be heard.  “You’d do better being around your own people.”

“These are my people.”  They were all trying to heal from things.  She wondered if Gaston would even be able to understand what it was to need to heal.  He spoke of little other than hunting and business, boating and stocks.  If she was honest with herself there was very little she knew about the man she’d said yes to marrying.  He knew even less about her.

“Your people are at home; there’s a dinner at the club this weekend.  People keep asking me when you’re coming home, not that they know where you are.”  Too restless for the couch Gaston rose and started pacing.  “They ask me about the wedding.”

“I can’t marry you, Gaston.”  She said the words in a hurry, afraid she wouldn’t say them all if she didn’t say them all at once.

“You don’t mean that.  When you get home…”

“No.”  She shook her head.  When her father had brought Gaston home she had accepted it, as she did everything else.  She hadn’t gone away to college because he didn’t want it.  She hadn’t babysat as a teen.  Hadn’t gone to school dances.  She was always a dutiful daughter, even when it came to dating the man that was picked out for her.  And saying yes when expected, whether it was diner, sex or an engagement ring.  If she stayed with Gaston she was still her father’s prisoner.  It didn’t matter that Gaston was unaware of who Moe French really was or what he had done.  “I’m sorry Gaston.”

“I don’t understand, we had plans.  You said yes.”  Any plans they had, Belle knew, had been his own.  A wife to take care of his house and play hostess for his parties.  The right type of woman to show off at the club.  Children, probably, but she couldn’t even think about that.  For a moment she imagined a daughter, soft brown curls and her mother’s eyes.  She thought of her father, and wondered if she would have more power to protect a daughter than she’d had to save herself.

“Belle.” He said her name sharply, and probably not for the first time.  It was enough to bring Graham into the room.  She thought of the stories he’d told her about Wolf, and wondered if that was why she was reminded so strongly of a predator.  The narrow eyes and tense muscles might have scared her from another man, but she trusted him.  He was there to protect her.

“I’m alright now.”  She spoke to Gaston but looked over his shoulder to Graham.  She could make it through this conversation but she wasn’t going to ask him to leave again.

“This place is making you worse, not better,” Gaston groused.

“I’m not someone you would want to marry.”  There wasn’t any point explaining to him anymore than that.  “The ring is in my jewelry box at home.  You should have it back.”

“You shouldn’t make decisions in a place like this.  When you change your mind…”

“I wish you the best, Gaston, I really do.  I need you to go now.”  Graham took a step closer.  Perhaps Gaston felt it, or perhaps he decided his ego was smarting from the rejection.

“If I take back the ring that’s it.”  When she didn’t say anything he got up and strode from the library.  She hesitated for a moment before running after him.

“Gaston, wait.”  She could feel Graham standing behind her, not trying to touch her but his presence unmistakable.

“I knew it.”  His smile was the cocky one she was most familiar with.  Belle took a breath, closing her eyes.  She could be brave.  She could speak up.

“You move in the same circles as my father.  Parties, the club, charity events.  You should know…”  She felt her nails against the underside of her forearm and paused, pulling them away.  She would not hurt herself.  “He can’t be left alone with little girls.  They need to be protected.

“You can’t mean…”  She’d never before seen all the color drain from Gaston’s face.  The horrified look in his eyes was probably the most real emotion she’d ever seen from him.  She nodded and waited to see that he understood what she meant, then turned her back to him.  She couldn’t allow him to ask questions, couldn’t speak any clearer than she already had.  It had taken all of her bravery to say that much.

Doctor Gold was standing on the other side of the doorway.  “Graham thought you might like a cup of tea.  I thought we could take some out to the garden.”  

“I would like that.”  She was surprised to see that her hand wasn’t trembling.  The hot tea would be welcome. Before she followed him she looked over her shoulder on last time.  “Goodbye, Gaston.”

She stood completely still until she could feel him leaving.  Graham was gone too, and she knew without having to ask that he was following Gaston.  Making sure he didn’t linger, didn’t ask anything more of her.  After almost two years and an engagement it was strange to think that she’d most likely seen him for the last time.  It was probably stranger to think she had agreed to marry him but wouldn’t miss him.

“He’s gone, dearie.  Would you like to sit down?”

“In the garden.”  She looked down at her feet and willed them to move.  After a moment they did, and if she thought about nothing else but walking she could get herself to the bench outside before her knees let her down.  He handed her a mug of tea poured from his thermos as soon as she sat.  It seemed cooler outside than it had half an hour ago when she’d been walking with Graham.

“He shouldn’t have gotten as far as the library without anyone stopping him, Belle.  I’m sorry.”  He waited a moment to speak, or maybe it was five minutes.  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at her tea before looking at him.

“He wasn’t a threat.  He never hurt me.”  She wasn’t sure she could say that Gaston was a good man.  He worked and he hunted and he went to the club.  He hated books and was sometimes frustrated when he saw her reading rather than socializing, but he was never cruel.  He didn’t go out of his way to help anyone but neither did he hurt anyone.  “I didn’t even know I didn’t want to be with him.  It was easier to just say yes.”

“It was what other people wanted from you,” he commented softly.

“I said no to him today.”  Had she ever said that before?  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said no, not to something as simple as where they were going for dinner or as complicated as an engagement ring.  Not to trips with her papa or his college plans or anything.  “Even when it made him mad.”

“The only emotions you are responsible for are your own.”  His tea was on the bench, his hands both on the handle of his cane.  He moved it restlessly, the tip moving bits of gravel around the ground.  He always moved, even when he was sitting still.  “What you did today took a good deal of courage.

“I was scared.  Not of him.”  He made her feel small next to him, his confidence and control making her feel like everything centered around him, but she hadn’t feared him.  Or loved him.  She’d simply existed next to him.  “Everything’s changed now.”

“The unknown can be very hard to step into, even when the known is hurting us.  It’s normal to be scared.”  His voice was low and soothing.  Belle allowed herself to close her eyes and just listen to him.  His words settled into her bones with the same warmth as the tea.  

“So now I start over?”  With Gaston gone she had no connection to the people she’d called friends, who were really just social acquaintances.  With the restraining order against her father she was an orphan in all the ways that mattered.  

“As much as we might sometimes wish for a blank slate there is no such thing.  No tabula rasa.”  He quirked his lips into something that wasn’t quite a smile, or at least not a happy one.  “We continue on a step at a time because the only thing we can do is move forward or stand still.  What we do get to decide is what we carry with us and what we work on shedding.”

Belle looked down at her hands, seeing only the cooling mug of tea but knowing she held onto so much more.  “I left Gaston behind.”

“You did.  Are you feeling alright about that?”  He picked up his mug, but only played with the handle.

Belle nodded.  The conversation had been hard but knowing it was over was easy.  “It’s not so simple with papa.”

“No, it’s not.  But you’ve already taken the first steps.”  He paused, looking at her.  Belle took a shaky breath and nodded.  It helped that he didn’t lie to her.  Didn’t pretend that anything was going to be easy.  If she’d taken the first steps there were still dozens more to take.

“One step at a time.”  She rubbed her arm.  There was no pain, and she’d stopped herself from digging her nails into the skin when she’d spoken to Gaston.  That was a step too.

II

Belle deliberately chose the same sofa in the library she’d shared with Gaston the next day, an exorcism of sorts.  She curled up with her notebook and pen, took a deep breath, and started writing.  An hour later she had twelve pages of writing and a sore hand.  The wolf was about to rescue Little Red from her grandmother when Jefferson threw himself at the other side of the sofa, making the whole thing bounce.

“Put the books away, it’s time to play.”  He wore a top hat made from construction paper covered in glittering gears and offered her a pipe cleaner tiara with tissue paper roses.  “Your unbirthday awaits.”

“I thought it was everyone’s unbirthday.”  She slipped her book into the oversized pockets of her cardigan before accepting the tiara.

“You’re one of the everybody, aren’t you?”  He tipped his hat at her, stood, and offered her his hand.  She only hesitates a moment before letting him help her up.  

“I am.”  She followed Jefferson to the garden where her friends were waiting to celebrate.  It was one more small step.

[vinylackles]

platonic

word count: 3,500

summary: dean doesn’t think he’s ready for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean he likes you flirting with anyone else. and you know exactly how to hit him where it hurts... good things there’s two winchesters

jealous dean. so. much. jealous. dean. this is fairly angsty, and set in one of the earlier seasons :) enjoy!

all my works || request imagines here

There were three sets of eyes on you, each one of them burning a different feeling into your skin. 

Sam’s eyes were on your back, and you knew exactly what he was watching for. Any sign of danger and he’d have his gun drawn in a moment, ready to take whatever it was down. He could probably make it across the tiny bar in three strides, and it put your mind at ease.

The second pair of eyes were, undoubtedly, on your boobs. The guy you were talking to had definitely given you his name, but you hadn’t bothered to commit it to memory. He hadn’t given up the information you were jonesing for yet, which meant you were going to put up with his googly eyes for a few more minutes, and pretend like you hadn’t seen him scratch his number down on the napkin. 

The third set were the ones you were most focused on. Dean was watching you like a hawk... and you were using every bit of his attention to your advantage.

You’d been purposely pushing his buttons since your slightly tipsy conversation with him last week. The two of you had been skirting around each other ever since you had started hunting consistently with the boys. You’d shared a few drunken kisses, held hands in the front seat of the impala on road trips. Nothing serious. 

But you were ready to make it just that. And when you’d brought up taking it the next level, making it ‘official’, Dean had locked up immediately. 

“We don’t need to put a label on it sweetheart. Just two friends havin’ fun, you know, in a platonic way,” he’d said, sipping at his beer. 

And you weren’t sure why, but those words had made you angrier at Dean than you thought possible. Perhaps it was because in every sense of the word besides actually calling you his girlfriend, he expected you to act like one. No flirting with other guys, always sharing a bed with him in the double motels rooms. He’d call you honey after his third beer without fail. And you were so invested in him it wasn’t even funny; if you didn’t know better, you’d say you loved the man. His words had hurt you more than they’d angered you, if you were honest. 

But if he wanted it to be platonic, you’d show him platonic all right. 

You’d missed the last three sentences the man in front of you had said, and you could tell he was getting a bit nervous, rambling on trying to remedy it. You seized the opportunity, reaching out and tracing a finger along his jawline; it wasn’t nearly as sharp as Dean’s. You could picture him behind you at the table, fist and jaw clenched equally tight, and you grinned at the thought. 

“So you didn’t see anything weird on Sunday night? In the alley between West Jefferson and Main?” 

“N-No ma’am.”

“What a shame, I was really hoping someone had seen my friend, she left the bar around 11:30,” you probed again, bringing your finger down the side of his neck and toying with the collar of his shirt. You saw him gulp down a swallow, which only spurred you on. 

“Well um, the, I know the guy who runs the mini-mart on the other side of the street! Maybe he saw your friend. I could give you his number, or-or his address!”

He was so eager to help you almost felt bad for using him. Almost.

“Why don’t you write those down for me,” you murmured, leaning in close to his ear. You could see Sam and Dean out of the corner of your eye from that new angle. Dean’s knuckles were white against the table where he was grabbing it. Mission accomplished it seemed. 

“O-Okay,” the man stammered. You watched his shaky hand scribble the owner’s info under his own number on the bar napkin. You offered him a smile as he handed it to you. A thought fluttered in your mind; the man had given you a possible witness in a dead-end case, and he’d served your need of making Dean jealous. You could repay him a bit. 

So you leaned over and pressed a quick, innocent kiss to his lips. You pulled back before he could get too excited, swiping the bit of lipstick you’d left on his lip off with your thumb. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Thanks again for your help Harry.”

He looked like he would faint, but he managed to stutter out “it’s uh, Henry” as you turned and walked away, napkin in hand. Sam had a look of slight admiration on his face, and Dean looked like he was about to blow as gasket. 

Definitely mission accomplished. Point 1 to you. 

“I got an address, I think we should go give our possible witness a visit.” You went to pass the napkin to Dean, but pulled it back.

“Oh wait, let me just put this in my phone real quick,” you pretended to be a bit sheepish, pulling out your phone and typing in the top number under a new contact. 

“You gettin’ directions?” Sam asked, standing up from the table and putting his suit jacket back on. 

“No, just uh... putting in a number, for possible future use, if you know what I mean.” 

You turned and passed the note to Dean, putting on your best innocent face. He was fuming.

“My lipstick isn’t smeared, is it?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No, it looks fine. Didn’t know it took saliva exchange to get an address these days,” he grumbled, tucking the paper into his suit pocket. 

“Alright Mr. double standards. I’m allowed to have fun once in a while.” 

You raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you. Instead he just grumbled under his breath, fishing the Impala’s keys out of his pocket as the three of you headed for the parking lot.

“I think we can officially call this one a bust. She just died, nothing fishy about it,” Dean sighed, tossing the file back onto the motel table and running a finger over his eyes.

“Agreed,” Sam murmured, closing his laptop. You folded the newspaper back up, adding it to the pile of paper you’d be throwing away when you left. 

“We’ve got the room for the night, might as well just crash and get as much sleep as we can. We’ll hit the road in the morning.” 

“I call first shower,” Sam said, standing up and heading for his bag, carrying it into the bathroom with him. You waited until the water had been running for a few minutes to pull out your phone. Thumbing through your contacts, you found a friend that you could text. Not that Dean needed to know that.

He made it until the third message buzzed through before he asked.

“Whose blowin’ up your phone over there?” He tried to stay casual, but the venom in his tone seeped through his facade.

“Somebody.”

“Wow, paint me a picture why don’t you Y/N.” 

“It’s just that guy from the bar. He wants to know if I’m up for another round.” The lie slipped easily off your tongue. You hadn’t even saved the dude’s number.

“How the hell did he get your number?”

“Oh, I gave it to him. Figured if he wanted something from me, he was going to have to commit, and make the first move.”

He caught on immediately, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Are you kidding me? Is that what that stunt in the bar was about? You’re pissed at me over that?”

“Wow, paint me a picture Dean. You’re gonna have to be more specific, you do a lot of things that could piss me off,” you mocked him a bit, raising your eyes from your phone. You were being petty, and you knew it, but the hurt you’d felt at his words kept you going.

“This is all because I said I didn’t want to make things official, isn’t it? Wow. Didn’t realize you needed someone to call boyfriend so badly Y/N.” The water shut off, leaving the room in weighted silence, his words hanging in the air. 

His defenses were going up, as you expected, and he was lashing out in the only way he knew how. You were tempted to stop, to just let it go. But at the same time, you were done putting up with it. Something had to change, one way or another. 

“That is so not the point Dean.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was wavering, emotions threatening to break through.  

“Then enlighten me.”

“You don’t get to just have me when you want me, okay!? That’s the fucking point! I can’t do this casual ‘platonic’ shit anymore, I care about you too much. You’re either in or you’re out with me, and if you can’t handle that then you just need to tell me, cause I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘done’? What, if I don’t start calling you honey you’re just gonna ditch?” 

The rage that filled you had you burning to your fingertips.

“Did you listen to a word that I just said?”

He didn’t answer, just waited for you to continue.

“Fine. Whatever Dean. You wanna keep things casual? Fine.” 

You had timed things just right, having snatched everything you needed out of your bag by the time Sam opened the bathroom door. You pushed past him into the overly-hot room, slamming the door and locking it. 

It took you a moment to get yourself together again. Why did he have to be such a dick sometimes? Half the time, you weren’t sure why you put in the effort at all. 

But images of his smile danced across your mind, and you remembered exactly who the real Dean - your Dean - was. He was the guy who made you your coffee in the morning without you having to ask, who carried your bags for you. The guy who stitched your wounds and gave you the curliest curly fry even though you knew he wanted it. 

You just didn’t understand why he couldn’t be that way all the time. Why he fought his feelings so hard. Because he did have feelings for you... right?

The familiar pit of insecurity began to form in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. Maybe he didn’t feel that way about you at all, and that was why he was fighting it so hard. Which would mean you’d just made a complete fool of yourself out there.

Shit.

You stripped down and showered quickly, trying to let the water wash away the feeling of dread that had settled over you. It didn’t work, and you weren’t surprised. It was going to take a lot more than lukewarm water to settle your nerves. 

You stalled once you were out, not wanting to go back out and face Dean. You couldn’t go back out there after being so confident, only to falter now. He was going to have to make a decision one way or another - it was the only way you could settle your fears. And somewhere, deep down, you knew he felt the same way about you. He had to, or you weren’t sure you could take it. You just had to get him to admit it. 

You just had to hit him where it hurt. 

So you set your plan in motion, reaching into Sam’s bag; he’d left it on the counter when you’d rushed him out. You found one of his old soft t-shirts, sliding it over your head before putting on the underwear and shorts you’d brought in with you. You towel dried your hair until it was done dripping before taking a deep breath and leaving the room. 

The boys were both in their beds; Sam sprawled out in the middle of his, while Dean was on one side, leaving space for you like he always did. You didn’t look at him when you approached Sam’s bed.

“Scootch,” you muttered, nudging the bed with your knee. Sam looked up at you from his book, confusion written all over his face.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, you always get a bed to yourself. Time to switch up the friendly arrangement. Now scootch.”

Sam didn’t ask any questions, though he definitely noticed the unwarranted death glare he got from his brother as he wiggled his way to the other side of the bed. You climbed under the covers, putting your back towards Dean and curling up on your side, willing yourself to sleep. 

Dean’s gaze was burning into your back again and you heard him get up and head for his shower. He never showered at night... it was working. 

As soon as the water turned on, Sam angled towards you.

“You wanna fill me in on the argument you just put me in the middle of?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

You felt immediately guilty. Using Sam was different, because you actually cared about the guy.

“Dean’s being a dick, so I’m just trying to piss him off.” 

“And I’m involved in that how exactly?”

“Best way to make Dean mad is to make him jealous, you know that.” 

That seemed to make it click with the younger Winchester, who just smiled.

“This is about him not wanting to officially date, isn’t it?” 

“He told you about that?!” You exclaimed, sitting up a bit. 

“Of course he did, he thought you were gonna leave you were so mad, he was freakin out!”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“He doesn’t know that, he’s more accustom to people leaving than people staying.” 

Ouch. That one cut deep. 

“I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m just trying to get him to admit what he feels. He said that what he have is platonic, but I know there’s more there. At least, I think that there is.” I hope that there is.

“If you’re questioning whether or not he has feelings for you, don’t. He likes you, he’s just... well, he’s just Dean. He needs a push.” 

“Like me choosing to sleep in his brother’s bed instead of his kind of push?” You quirked an eyebrow, grinning. The dread inside you had settled at Sam’s words, and you were back to having a bit of fun.

“Why must you involve me in your devious plans?” 

“Because you love me,” you teased, poking his arm. It was true that you and Sam had become fast friends, and there really wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for each other, even if it meant incurring the wrath of Dean.

“Fine. But if you steal the covers I’m booting you out,” he grumbled, flicking off the lamp and putting his book on the nightstand. He wiggled under the covers next to you, settling down to sleep.

It was three am, and something was moving. Your eyes shot open as a heavy weight was moved off of you. It took you a moment in the darkness to realize that is was Sam’s arm being removed from where he had slung it over you in his sleep.

Two familiar arms slid underneath you, lifting you out of the bed. If he hadn’t been so warm you would have protested leaving your spot under the covers. 

“What’re you doin’?” You slurred, voice thick with sleep.

“Puttin’ you back where you belong,” Dean answered, pulling back the covers before laying you down in his bed and climbing in beside you. The sheets were cold and you grimaced, curling back up to him, seeking warmth. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, holding you close to him.

“I have conditions,” you murmured, pressing your cold nose up to his neck - February in Indiana was no joke, and the motel’s heating was lack luster at best. 

“Conditions on what?” He said, running a hand through your damp hair. His hands moved down your back, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. 

“Us sleeping in the same bed,” you said, eyes still closed. If you were honest, you didn’t want to move an inch from where you were, but you were just stubborn enough to do it if you needed to.

“Do tell.”

“I get to be your girlfriend, for starters.”

“Okay. What else.”

That woke you up.

“Wait. Did you hear me?” You asked, sitting up a bit. His eyes were bright, lit up by the neon sign light trickling in through the curtains. 

“Yeah. Girlfriend. I hear yah. What else?” His voice was so casual that you weren’t sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“You’re serious? What changed your mind?” 

He reached up to cup your cheek with his hand; you rested your head there, letting the weight settle in his palm.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to Y/N. I just don’t have the best history with relationships, you know? So I wanted to keep you at arms length, because that’s how I keep from gettin’ hurt. But you’re different. You’ve always been different, and I was stupid to wait until you were at your breakin’ point with me to see that.”

“Really?” You couldn’t contain your excitement, and the spike in your voice almost woke up Sam, who groaned and rolled over in his sleep.

“Yeah, really sweetheart. You gave me an option - in or out. I choose in, all in, if the offer still stands.”

“Of course it does,” you smiled, wiggling up his body to kiss him. It was different than your past kisses - no faint buzz of liquor numbing your lips. You could feel every bit of it and it was glorious. 

“You never told me what else,” he whispered, lips moving down to your neck, pressing harder kisses there. You felt the scrape of his teeth, making you shudder.

“What?”

“Conditions,” he said into your skin.

“Oh. Um, well... I wanna ride up front more in Baby.” 

“And why is that sweetheart?” His voice was so smooth you felt like you were being put in a trance, no control over your words anymore.

“You look hot when you drive,” you admitted, blush warming your cheeks. He chuckled, nipping at your skin. 

“That can be arranged. What else?” He pressed.

“No hickeys,” you whispered, though you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to stop what he was doing.

“Deal breaker,” he said slowly, resting his lips against your skin.

“Okay, no visible hickeys,” you countered.

“That I can agree to,” he smirked, hooking a finger in the collar of your shirt and easing it down so he could get to your collarbone, set on leaving tiny marks there. 

You let him do his work, ignoring the fact that you could feel him hardening underneath you. You weren’t up for that tonight, and Sam was only a few feet away anyhow. 

You were so relaxed that you were pretty sure you could have fallen asleep right then and there if the adrenaline hadn’t been buzzing through your veins. 

He finally stopped, seemingly satisfied with whatever he had accomplished. You were sure you’d be blushing bright red when you saw it in the morning. 

“Can I put in a condition?” He mused, holding you to him as he sat up. You rested on his lap, completely content. 

“Of course.”

“How about the first night we spend in bed as a couple you aren’t in my brother’s shirt.” His fingers bunched up the fabric where it rested on your hips. 

“That can be arranged,” you grinned. He looked up at you and you nodded as he started to lift the shirt up, pulling it over your head. 

His eyes raked over your bare torso, soaking it all in. He’d never seen this much of you before.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and you weren’t sure he even realized he said it out loud. 

You shivered, half from his words and half from the chill in the room. 

“Cold?”

“A little.” You admitted, blushing bright red. 

“Here,” he said, reaching behind himself and grabbing the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one tug. Before you could say anything he had pulled it down over your head, helping to guide your arms into the holes. It smelled like him, and the warmth he’d left on it soaked into you, relaxing you even more. 

“Now you’re gonna be cold,” you pouted, tracing a finger over his bare chest. 

“Nah honey, I’ll be fine. You’re practically a space heater. C’mere.” He coaxed you down onto him again, and you wiggled until you were comfortable, legs intertwined with his under the covers. You let out a yawn and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Get some sleep beautiful. You can ride up front tomorrow, since apparently I’m hot when I drive.” 

“So hot,” you muttered, cuddling up to him even closer as you started to drift off. You weren’t sure if you imagined it or not, but you could have sworn you heard three little words fall from his lips, but you were too far gone to ask him. All you knew is you felt the same. 

leave me feedback?? ill love you forever

[tjovalboy]

Bread and the Encounter

Summary: TJ makes a stop to pick up challah before going to Cyrus’s house for his grandmother’s shiva, and he runs into his ex-best friend, Lester, whom he hasn’t talked to since the day of the gun incident.

AO3

Done helping my dad. I think I’ll make it.

TJ sent the text to Cyrus while he was four spaces back in line. “Challah,” the bread was called (thanks to quick Google search), and he hoped to leave the bakery today with a warm, respectable bearing in hand to present to Cyrus’s family while they mourned. It was terrible thinking about Cyrus upset about someone so dear to him, and he wanted to do more than he could for him.

Gary’s was packed this Saturday, and the heat from the kitchen wafted throughout the spall space in front of the counter. He was feeling claustrophobic, and a look away from the customers revealed yellow paint scratched and peeling from each wall. It was an older part of downtown Shadyside, and they were known for their challah.

The line wasn’t too long in front of him, and he sent the text to Cyrus so he didn’t worry. His other friends would’ve been there a while, too, but they always liked to bring their drama with them. TJ was in middle school, like the rest of them, and he had gotten himself in his own share of hallway antics. But they usually came with s warning.

“TJ!” said a voice behind him, and he recognized it.

Lester-- a little bit taller than him in a thick, opened flannel. It was chilly out, but in TJ’s new black jacket and slicked hair, his look couldn’t compare. Appearance was never Lester’s favorite sport.

“Hey, Lester,” said TJ.

Lester gestured, indicating the line moving, and they followed. Lester shoved his hands in his pockets.

“How’s life been?” TJ broke the silence.

...since Reed finally followed through with what he’d been bragging about and stole his dad’s gun. Since he got caught and you hung around him anyway. Since we stopped talking a month ago.

“It’s been fine.” Lester looked away often. “Water polo’s next week, and coach has me starting.“

“That’s good. That’s good.” Thought he didn’t know many of the rules, TJ had seen him practice before and he was good. Most of his past friends he only knew because of sports.

The group behind the counter shuffled forward as another customer moved away with their receipt. Challah with an “h” sound at the beginning, he reminded himself.

“I’m off to Cyrus’s after this. There’s a family thing.”

Not that long ago, Reed and Lester teased him about his crush; his only other friend aside from them two. Now, they wouldn’t look up when they could’ve stopped each other in passing at school. Cyrus took him in with his a couple of his own friends, instead, and days he spent lunch alone weren’t too bad.

“That’s not surprising,” said Lester. “I like him. He was nice that one day we met him at the dirt bike tracks.”

The dirt bike tracks. What did he know about Cyrus? More happened that afternoon...much more, and it’s why he and Lester stopped being friends. They were fourteen, and Reed brought a gun.

Tangentially, he asked himself if Cyrus’s family even liked challah.

“Hey, Reed and I aren’t mad that you told.” Lester shifted uncomfortably. “We were probably gonna get caught some day after, if not then.”

“Then why did you do it at all?” God, he didn’t get it! “Reed’s probably out at the park right now with his trash pick-up stick in the middle of January and you both have Metcalf on your backs every day of the week, including Saturday School.” He gritted his teeth. “I already have too many issues on my plate to be worrying about trouble with the law.”

Lester pushed his mop of hair out of his face, and TJ noticed his freckles. Lester was never good at keeping anything maintained and neat. TJ always had to tell him when homework was due and when finals were and what was a “proper gift” for someone. He couldn’t depend on himself.

“TJ, all I’m saying is that you chose to stop hanging out with us. Yeah, Reed’s got community service, but we’re over what happened. We’ve moved on.”

TJ rolled his eyes, making sure he knew he had enough, and turned completely around from him. There was the challah-- his only task task there. He didn’t come to the bakery to reason with Lester, and it was his own fault for keeping Reed around. Basketball, and the couple friends he had now, were a step up-- and with that, he was moving on, too. There wasn’t any more room for negativity.

The black haired woman with a motorcycle helmet before him finished ordering her croissants, and he stepped up.

“One challah bread, please,” he said, handing him cash and receiving a receipt in return.

“Have a nice evening.”

TJ checked the time, and it was 5:00 already. Cyrus must be worried, he was thinking, and he knew the share of drama his friends must have already brought to the party.

Lester finished paying and he stood around TJ awkwardly where other waited by the front counter. He had that greasy mop on his head and didn’t seem to know where around the bakery to look. The years had passed since they became friends, and TJ liked him, but all to nothing. It sucked, really, that he didn’t have the brains to break it off with Reed, too. Lester was alone at the bakery on a Saturday evening-- no Reed around because he was picking up trash at the park. He looked like he just rolled off the couch.

Another look at the boy and he was back in elementary school. TJ, Reed, and Lester were the athlete gang, sometimes choosing the same league team and sometimes deciding to compete against each other. Reed’s jokes were the worst, but TJ laughed- which made Lester laugh- and they wouldn’t stop until their sides hurt more than any ball game injury they’d sustained. They were close even moving to middle school when they got busier, and no one dared to skip lunch with the boys. Each day was a new anecdote, and reminders of old ones they loved.

Yet, that changed. Reed and Lester almost pressured him to break the law, and he would’ve if it wasn’t for Cyrus. He was done, and high school seemed too far away to start wondering if they would be together again then.

Lester stopped typing on his phone and shoved his hands in his pockets again. TJ wondered briefly what he was doing here in the first place; who he was picking up an order for. They both went to Jefferson, yet oddly, this talk hadn’t happened sooner.

“The challah.” Lester turned to him, his face a blank. “Is it for Cyrus?”

TJ put his phone down. See you soon! Cyrus had replied, and for that, he really hoped. “Yeah. it seemed like the polite thing to do,” he said.

He waited, and Lester nodded. “He found me and Reed for a second at the dirt lot while you were looking for your gear. He seemed happy, and he asked if we had ever tried the swings at the playground in Liberty Park.”

Swings. His and Cyrus’s swings-- the day they met.

“He used to be terrified of swinging higher than a foot from the ground,” said Lester. “Then someone helped him.”

Yes, it was TJ, and it wouldn’t have been hard for Lester to assume. He and Cyrus talked about their place, and he wasn’t hiding anything.

“I was thinking, ‘Wow, that’s so nice of TJ--’ because it kind of was-- And this kid in front of me was the cool, funny kid you hung around with that wasn’t us.”               Cyrus wasn’t Reed or Lester, and they were in agreement of that. He was different-- better-- and in Lester’s words, he made TJ better.                                                            

The late, golden sun seeped through the windows and streaked the floors of the bakery. It was too low to hit TJ’s eyes, but the color illuminated the green shirt he was wearing for Bubbe Rose’s shiva. The smells of warm loaves and pastries warming the kitchen behind the counter swirled through the building, mixing with the loaves of the people that filled every chair and table around them. The line was shortening.

“24!”

TJ unfolded his receipt to check that his number was correct (his special tutoring helped) and stepped behind Lester to grab the challah. It was warm.

“See you, TJ.” Lester put a hand up.

One last time, TJ studied the ragged mop of brown hair that covered Lester’s head. He couldn’t depend on himself-- and that’s how it would be with him for now.

“See you, Lester.” TJ nodded at him. He shuffled past the other customers to reach for the glass exit door and step downtown. The evening wind blew at him from behind bringing a shiver to his spine. He was really late, he thought, but the clock on his phone screen told him otherwise and brought out an exhale.

He made his way down the length of the sidewalk, bread warming his hands in its paper bag. Gary’s baked them fresh-- or maybe just as fresh as that afternoon. He imagined sitting with Cyrus, laughing, and ripping pieces off to share with the other-- like it was something they did together all the time-- and they would think it was delicious.

…

He moved through the familiar hallways of Cyrus’s house, now packed with aunts and uncles. The food was thankfully still left out in the living room, then Cyrus stood. 

“You came.” 

“Of course I came.”

[frisbee-camp]

Let Me Help

AO3 Link//Wattpad Link

Tj and Cyrus have been friends for a long time, but will that change after life comes crashing down and impulsive decisions catch up to them? (Angst, Ambi, love notes, slow burn, aged up so they're all in high school, god tier ships, mental health, and like a whole bunch more ladies! Let’s get this angst.)

Chapter 1 Wait, What?

TJ and his friends Reed and Lester stood dauntingly at the end of the hall. Their height and clothes breathed power. People walking down the hall didn't dare look them in the eye.Reed, the fluffier blond, laughed with a cocked head and an air of superiority in his eye. He must have said something funny, because both Lester, the airy brunette, and TJ, the stiffer blond smiled their own ways. Lester, with a wide grin and bellowing laugh, and TJ with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I wonder what they're talking about?" said Cyrus, a smaller boy, to his friends Andi and Buffy. Andi gave a concerned furrow of their brows while Buffy scoffed and said, "Why? They're mean and bullies. Don't you dare try to fix them like you did with Amber!" Andi looked away, their hair slightly hanging in front of their forehead, and mumbled: "I don't know what Amber has to do with this..." "What do you mean? Amber has everything to do with this! Just because you two are a thing doesn't mean she completely left behind her mean gene. Amber and TJ are still twins you know!" Said Buffy, suddenly feeling like both of her friends were turning against her. "Buffy, I thought you weren't mad at them anymore? TJ apologized for the gun thing, he turned them in" said Cyrus. "Yeah? Then why is he still talking to them? They put you in danger Cyrus!" Buffy leaned against her locker and sighed heavily, Andi solemnly nodded in agreement. "Yeah Cyrus, if he really cared about your safety he wouldn't have put you in that situation in the first place and he definitely wouldn't be talking to Rester right now," said Andi. "Rester?" asked Cyrus. Was this a new slang word he didn't know? He thought Marty had caught him up, but these kids come up with new words every day. Andi gave a quick chuckle, "That's what Amber and I call Reed and Lester," they leaned in and whispered "We think they're together" "Oh don't be ridiculous" Buffy rolled her eyes. Cyrus giggled. He thought about how he had come out to Andi and Buffy quietly over facetime last month. They had become more protective than usual after finding out that TJ took him to 'play with death' as Buffy had put it. Andi had come out too, 'Guys, I don't really think I'm a girl or a boy' they had said 'I kinda just feel like Andi. Does that make sense?' It didn't at the time, but after a long facetime session and lots of google searches, they helped Andi realize that they were gender neutral. 'They,' they had smiled, 'that sounds right.' Just then, Amber appeared next to Andi and kissed them on the cheek. "Hello artsy fartsy, I like your new hat" Andi visibly turned two shades redder and turned slightly, their handmade flower crown now in Amber's hands. They smiled at each other. Buffy groaned and covered her eyes "UGhhhhh get a ROOM" Cyrus tapped her on the arm, "Don't be mean" he said. "Andi, we should go, remember that thing?" said Amber.  "That thing?" Andi tilted her head a bit, Amber shot up her eyebrows, "Oh! Yes, that thing we have to go to right now" Amber said as she pulled Andi away. They were off before saying another word, a blur of blonde hair and flowers. Buffy rolled her eyes, Cyrus knew she was jealous but he wasn't going to say anything about it. He knew she had Marty to vent to. "Well," Buffy said, "I should get going too, my mom is picking me up soon and I don't want to keep her waiting. "Yea, okay" Cyrus half grinned and saw her walk down the hall past TJ, who gave her an apologetic look. He could half see the angry fire in Buffy's eyes. Cyrus walked towards his locker, only a couple down from Buffy's and a little closer to TJ. As soon as he saw Buffy step into her mom's car, TJ made his way over to Cyrus' locker. Cyrus pretended not to notice how he didn't say bye to Rester and how Rester didn't seem to care. TJ, with his rolled-up sleeves and gelled hair, leaned against the locker next to Cyrus' and smiled at him. "What?" Cyrus smiled. "Nothing," TJ said. "Buffy and Andi are still mad at you" Cyrus slowly looked up from his locker and gave a shy smile. Cyrus felt his heart pick up speed.  "Yeah, I figured that look she just gave me wasn't one of friendship" TJ joked, letting his head rest against a locker, exposing his neck and collarbone. Cyrus swore he didn't let his eyes linger. He really didn't look. "Um," Cyrus looked back towards his now empty locker and closed it softly, he hated the crashing sound. "You looked mean over there, it's hard to remember that you're nice now." TJ stood up straight and frowned, "You thought I was mean?" "It's easy to think you're mean when you hang out with Rester," Cyrus said, looking him in the eyes, the eyes he swore never made him feel butterflies. "Rester?" TJ chuckled. Cyrus didn't laugh. He wanted TJ to explain why he was hanging out with them after everything they've been through. "Look it's hard not being friends after such a long time, but I swear it was nothing serious. They kicked me out of the group chat." TJ slightly kicked the ground and crossed his arms, "Old habits die hard I guess, I'll stop hanging out with them." "Tell that to Buffy" "Maybe I will," TJ said. "You should" "I will" "Promise?" Cyrus said. "Sure underdog, promise." TJ looked particularly rigid that day, Cyrus thought it was all of the hair gel.  "Pinky Promise?" Cyrus held out his left pinky. TJ lovingly rolled his eyes "Yes Cyrus I pinky promise" They shook pinkys. TJ didn't understand why his stomach suddenly felt like a hurricane. He didn't understand why he lingered on the feeling of Cyrus' soft skin. "You can't break a pinky promise. If you do, I can't guarantee your safety" Cyrus grinned. TJ wondered if he really saw Cyrus' nose turn pink or if it was his imagination. "I won't. I promise," TJ said. Cyrus then heard his phone buzz, it was a text from his dad telling him he was outside. Cyrus locked his locker and said, "I'm sorry TJ. I wish we could keep talking about your mortality, but I have to go. I'll text you later okay?" Cyrus walked away, looking back before heading out the front doors. TJ stood there a moment later, the hallway was deserted, he always did seem to be the last one there. Reed and Lester had left, and so had the rest of Jefferson Middle and High School. A stupid idea came into his head, he laughed softly to himself but took out a pen and a piece of paper anyway. He wrote down, "I'm afraid of losing you" and closed his eyes before quickly slipping it into Cyrus' locker and running towards the back door. TJ bumped into a boy about his age, quickly said sorry and walked slower out the door. Jonah Beck seemed disheveled from the encounter, he thought he saw TJ put something in one of his friend's locker, but which one?

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X07 - Child of the Moon

...Do I seriously have nothing better to do than just sit around writing long ass reviews for a show that already ended?

...Well then, I suppose ANITA LIFE!

Shut up, you love them. Now go under the cut for some actually semi-intelligent thoughts!

Press Release

Ruby’s fear about turning into a wolf during the first curse-free Storybrooke full moon is confirmed when one of the town’s residents is viciously murdered, and Ruby is the prime suspect; Decker - aka King George - threatens to expose David as a shepherd, not a prince, and not fit to run the town as sheriff; and Leroy stumbles upon some treasure in the Storybrooke mine that could help bring Mary Margaret and Emma back into our world. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was, Red Riding Hood finds a kindred spirit in Anita (Annabeth Gish), a charismatic and mysterious leader of a pack of humans who, like Red, turn out to be wolves.

General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past

Red’s journey in this episode is so well put together. The insecurities established in “Red-Handed” and then re-established here about her half-wolf identity acts as a great source of conflict. You can see how that sense of fear is decreased as Red spends more time with the wolfpack, and after establishing that bond, gets tested against an equally powerful bond with Snow. This is a great conflict because it’s entirely character based and expands on what we already know about Red.

Present

Not all segments need a message to work, but their needs to be some level of growth, and while it does happen to Ruby, it’s only through being given information and a pep talk that she’s able to reaffirm her control over her wolf form. While I genuinely liked this segment for it’s plot, characters, pacing, and the broader story, I feel like Ruby was somewhat sidelined in her own episode because what is reinforced is never gleamed through her own experiences or anything that she learns about herself. It’s David who investigates the mystery and he and Belle who never give up hope while Ruby largely defaults to regarding the situation as her fault until David gives her the evidence to contradict that. While I commend Ruby for being a realist and very mature about her situation, I wish that there had been a moment where she attempted for her own happiness (Think like a “Let It Go” moment) or if there was a moment that she noticed that called her murder into doubt.

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-Those mine crystals look so bad! XD

-You better not be driving after drinking that beer, David! You’ve got a kid in the car!

-I’ll take those 38 lasagnas!

-Ruby is so amazingly mature. She understands her capabilities, but takes into account risks as to protect others.

-Snow is one hell of a fighter!

-Also, I can’t help but feel like that’s the first time Snow ever saw her wanted poster (This is before she met David). Look at that amazing frustration and sadness in her eyes as she’s seen how Regina has scarred her reputation. And that’s all before she and Red even converse about it moments later. Great acting, Ginny!

-I can’t get over how great Red’s costume is. It’s perfectly balanced between being something that gels with the classic fairytale while still looking like something a young adult would wear.

-Stranger stalking Red: You might want to get your eyes checked for jaundice! XD

-”Wh-wh-what are you doing here? Where’s David?” Damn, that hurt just watching it. I can’t even imagine how Regina must feel hearing Henry all but reject her comfort. :(

-”He got an emergency call this morning and asked me to look after you.” Good job, David! That was very good pushing aside your hatred of Regina for Henry’s sake!

-I just realized that Ruby is essentially Elsa in this episode! XD

-Ruby is fucking tough as nails! We’ve got to get her into a Street Fighter movie or something!

-I really want to know more about Quinn! The actor played him very well and he has this air to himself of both a vagabound and someone with something a bit deeper to him. Like, he’s an octave down from Killian on the drama-meter.

-”Is this some kind of trick?” Red, don’t follow the man into the scary basement until he answers that very important question! Didn’t Granny teach you stranger danger?!

-I want to live in an underground castle! Holy shit! I’d have all the space I want, stay cool, AND avoid other people! Hell to the fucking yeah!

-”I’m your mother.” My season 4 vibes and her later attitude are compelling me to say “I don’t care.”

-”It’s Billy’s truck.” “Who do you call to tow a tow truck.” It’s my personal headcanon that Billy’s truck is Mater from Cars. XD

-”I certainly never cared what would happen to them after they woke up...until now.” I love that look Henry gives Regina as she says this. It’s such a subtle Regal Believer moment.

-”Sometimes in sleep.” Why do I feel like that line was specifically put there for ass covering?

-”Once one controls something, one no longer need fear it.” Another instance of a villainous character (Though not in this episode!) giving the moral of the episode! That said, I wish it was said to Ruby herself, but I’m not peeved about that. Also, Rumple’s posture is incredibly comforting as he crouches to Henry’s level and gives him the necklace for free, giving some nice pre-confirmed Grandpa Gold feels.

-Charming! Good job calling out your cursed self for his shittiness!

-It may just be the result of my recent foray into the MCU, but I am getting some crazy Ego vibes odd of Anita.

-”That thing. That she-wolf.” George, you are the WORST.

-”Protecting your friend instead of everyone else.” He literally has her locked in a jail cell! It’s not like he’s forcing her to roam free!

-That was a great display of a Gopro camera on a wolf!

-I like how the montage was unclear about the exact amount of time it took between Red’s entrance into the castle and that latest transformation.

-George, you have the tiniest fucking group possible for this rebellion! How successful do you really think you’re going to be?

-I like the visual cue that the wolf gang sleeps like a pack.

-”Of course not.” I love how Snow clearly doesn’t believe that Red’s pack will hurt her, but still wants to be supportive of Red.

-”David see the good in you.” Ummm, what about you, Belle? Girl, you know I love you, but you already know all about Ruby’s goodness! She took you in!

-”I’m sort of an expert when it comes to rehabilitation.” Ummm, I’d say you’re getting there, but expert is a little too much.

-”I need to pay for all I’ve done.” Umm, Ruby. Your old village couldn’t kill you. What makes you this the D-List Storybrooke mob will do any better?

-I don’t know why, but I find it so funny that King George’s cursed name is “Spencer.” I think it just makes me think of iCarly.

-”May you always run free below the moon’s pale light.” This is a really well written line and I wish we could’ve heard it again outside of this episode.

-I like how in the D-List Storybrooke mob, only one person had the common sensibility to bring a fucking flashlight!

-Granny! You could’ve killed someone! That was a big Michael Bay-worthy explosion! I can only hope you sensed that that building was abandoned beforehand otherwise you’d have a body count!

-So someone in the D-List Storybrooke mob calls out “we’re not sheep,” and I’m just laughing because they followed George on a fucking dime!

-So I love how this is more or less David’s arc in “White Out” as well! XD

-George is so fucking confident about that hat, like there aren’t at least a couple of other magical items in this town! XD

-Also, how the hell did he get the hat?

-Red’s monologue in the final leg of the flashback has me thinking: What happened when Red and Granny reunited after the events of this flashback? There must’ve been some serious resentment on Red’s part and I wish we got to see how that resolved itself.

-Ruby, not that that run isn’t well earned, but you owe Belle on hell of an apology!

-Snow, your clothes are so clean right now! Did you find a laundromat in the Enchanted Forest?

Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing?

Storybrooke getting Snow and Emma back - We gain one method of communicating with the EF and lose a way of getting there. I find that this arc is pretty good so far. The steps feel appropriately paced and I enjoy that the arc actually has a dead end. It makes for opportunities to use more characters (Ruby, King George, and Jefferson) and given them growth while allowing for the plot to feel more like a journey.

Rumple’s Redemption - I pointed this out in “Insights,” but Rumple’s more comforting attitude towards Henry, especially since neither knows they’re related yet, is a good follow-up step to the redemption that Rumple’s attempting for himself that was established in “Broken.”

Favorite Dynamic

Red and Snow - Red and Snow’s friendship has always been this nice delight, and in this episode, there’s a marvelous setup and payoff to it. Snow is beyond supportive to Red, understanding her and yet still fighting for a future where they can be happy and safe together. Like, she risks traveling by Regina’s bloodthirsty men for Red and is willing to give the wolfpack the benefit of the doubt for her! And even whe Red opts to stay with the wolfpack, Snow is nothing but understanding and gives a very in-character reason as to why! Honestly, I’m borderline shipping these two because they’re so good together!

Writer

Last season’s human home runs (Ian and Andrew) are at it again. The writing for this episode is largely great, using very rich dialogue and a good theme of taking control of your own life to deliver two well put together segments.

Rating

10/10. This is a legitimately great episode. It’s entertaining, and our mains are in fine form. The lore of the OUAT world is used well, as it contributes to the story in the past segment and not just the plot (An important distinction). While I take a small issue with a less impactful Ruby in the present, it simply doesn’t take away from the incredible storytelling that goes on elsewhere throughout both segments.

Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Billy/Ruby - While I never thought much of them in “The Price of Gold,” their bit of flirting is absolutely heartwarming and Ruby’s grief following Billy’s death is so sad.

Red Beauty - These two! These fucking two! Belle and Ruby are just the two most supportive beans in the world! Also, “think of it as girl’s night.” Am I the only one thinking about how chains and whips can be quite exciting, especially when one’s hungry like the wolf?!

()()()()()()()()()

Sorry if this review was a little simplistic. Sometimes, there’s not a lot to say about an episode other than “this was good,” and I didn’t just want to say that a million times, but next time I’ll make like that episode’s title and see how “Into the Deep” I can go! For now, thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this project together and giving my reviews a home on their page!

Season 2 Tally (67/220)

Writer Tally for Season 2:

Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (20/60)

Jane Espenson (17/50)

Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (20/50)

David Goodman (10/30)

Robert Hull (10/30)

Christine Boylan (7/30)

Tags: ouat, once upon a time, watching fairytales, ouat episode code, ouat rewatch, jenna watches ouat, ships mentioned

Operation Rewatch Archives

[ryanmeft]

Farewell, and Good Riddance, to The Big Bang Theory

Imagine, if you will, a half hour sitcom about black people. One of the characters speaks nothing but an exaggerated version of what the writers think is “street” talk, listens to nothing but gangster rap, and swaggers like he’s on stage wherever he goes. For another, the trait that becomes his running joke is how he never looks for a job; once an episode the laugh track kicks up to orgasm levels in response to a one-liner about how many kids he’s avoiding the child support payments on. The woman living next door reacts to their repeated antics by balling her fists on her hips, leaning forward and, as the show puts it, “throwing out some sass”…when she’s not offering to whip them up some watermelon and fried chicken. Their apartment is located in a rundown part of town, and each episode begins with them being comically awakened to the sound of gunfire.

If you’re already appalled, you reacted the way you should. This would be a show composed entirely of the dumbest, most prevalent racial stereotypes that non-black people believe about black people. Worse, it would be using those things for a cheap laugh. The “characters” as I have presented them there would not be people at all, but crude punchlines that only appeal to those outside the group being ostensibly depicted.  

If you understand why that opening paragraph was offensive in every possible way, you’re on your way to grasping why your nerd friends so loathed The Big Bang Theory. There are plenty of great articles out there already beating the ever-loving life out of this godawful shitshow, so I want to be a little more serious and tackle the very real reasons it is a goiter on the ass of pop culture.

The only bad thing about The Big Bang Theory ending is that it didn’t happen before season one. I have had the profound misfortune of seeing many episodes in full, particularly towards the beginning of the show when my non-nerdy friends insisted I just had to see this thing.

“It’s about you.”

Statements like that made me wonder how we were friends. Tellingly, most of the people who once said it are no longer in my life. They weren’t cut from it because they liked a TV show. They weren’t cut from it at all. Gradually, it simply occurred to me they’d never really understood me and, given they thought I was like this or that Big Bang character, I’m honestly surprised some of those friendships lasted as long as they did.

The Big Bang Theory got away with rampant, blatant stereotypes about nerds for a long time, and for one major reason: it catered to people outside the group it was ostensibly depicting. It never attempted to be fair or even-handed toward nerd culture. Nerds, who comprise a wide variety of people of many different personality types and interests, were boiled down to a few stereotypes that might be true of some nerds somewhere, but were hardly true of the group. The problem wasn’t that none of the things ever depicted were ever true about anyone, anywhere; it was that every single thing these people did was based on those handful of things.

This was not a show that would ever write a starring role for a socially well-adjusted adult who happened to like video games. This was not a show that would ever star a character who prioritized their relationships over their hobbies without having to be repeatedly told to do so. This was not a show that would ever depict Howard as an otherwise independent adult who had to move back in with family because, say, he lost his job, or was inflicted with a disability (this idea of “living with mom” has long been funny to successful people free of such challenges because it is unlikely to happen to them). It does not depict nerds dealing with real life, as opposed to Sitcom “Real” Life.

Yet such people are far, far more reflective of the people I know from comic conventions, gaming circles, and just general nerdism than anything ever seen on The Big Bang Theory. I know a man with a basement full of more expensive Marvel statues than I would ever dream of owning, who is also a bodybuilder and a skilled mechanic. I know a successful Latino cop (note: all principles on The Big Bang Theory are white) who writes and reads comics and completely schools me on the topic of superhero history. I know a bisexual man who struggles with an actual, for real mental condition (not the coded kind designed to be made fun of that Sheldon represents) who reads far more comics than I and who would never prioritize them over his relationships. I know people with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder who have to have medical assistance to avoid destroying their lives with repetitive behaviors and thoughts that are forced on them by something in their brain chemistry they would never choose. Sheldon is no funnier to them than a Mexican who can’t get enough beans and Tequila would be to a Latino person.

This might not be that big a deal, accept for the fact that not belonging to the “cool” group has always been a lightning rod for bullying, insults, ostracism , and social shame, something that can and absolutely does continue from school into adulthood. Nor does the argument that it’s “just a sitcom” hold water. Sitcoms have given our media-obsessed world sympathetic, anti-stereotypical portrayals of the working class (All in the Family, Roseanne*), African Americans (The Cosby Show*, The Jeffersons) and homosexual people (Will & Grace), to name a few. By comparison, The Big Bang Theory is the TV equivalent of getting mocked as you walk down the hall to class for not being cool enough. It does not make any attempt to edify the lives of outsiders for the benefit of a wider audience; it instead reduces the outsiders to further punchlines for those whose lives are more accepted socially.

Many people have a passion for something and don’t care what everyone else thinks of it. The reason we have “nerds” at all is because society has collectively taken it upon themselves to decide what is and isn’t cool or acceptable to be passionate about. Video games? Weird. Cars? Cool. Comic books? Weird. Sports? Cool. Model building? Weird. Architecture? Cool. A lot more people than you likely think probably fall on both sides of this arbitrary line. You want to know the day we stop hating The Big Bang Theory? The day when there’s a show about people who can fix an engine AND tell you all about The Hulk. Until then, the blemish left by the show in an era when TV and movies are scrambling to show more respect toward, and variety in, ostracized groups is not something we’re likely to laugh with.

*I am aware these two shows have since been heavily tarred by the off-screen behavior of their stars, but it doesn’t change the fact they were heavily influential in the way their groups are portrayed in the media and the public consciousness.

[aaluminiumas]

At Ten Paces

        “So, Burr, have the finger on the trigger?”

        Hamilton, as usual, didn’t miss the opportunity to sneer and throw a waspish remark at me. As expected, he wasn’t serious at all, this duel meant merely nothing to him: he didn’t respect this historical moment – just like he didn’t respect me. He made fun of everything he saw – made fun of the situation, made fun of me, that eccentric that would certainly be dished on by newspapers!.. Unbearable, ridiculous! This man turns everything into a farce: once he takes the floor, any session morphs into a mess!

        “Almost pulling it.”

        Hamilton grinned arrogantly – with the schadenfreude so characteristic of him that drives me crazy. Oh, if only I could, I would’ve shot him back then, I would’ve planted a bullet into his sarcastic dirty mouth which is always full of snide remarks! He’s always vaunting of his “service in battle”, but in reality it seems like this filthy little toad lay low somewhere in the tent scribbling his useless plans and botching up senseless essays! Instead of being active in politics he always dilates upon, the only thing he’s doing is writing which is not going to help us on the economic arena. This Caribbean bastard, supercilious parvenu God knows how ingratiated himself with Washington, managed to obtain his cushy job – and now he is not ashamed to use the fruits of his so called providence! What are his achievements exactly? A couple of Federalist articles for the Constitution nobody cares about? This mediocre project of the National Bank which isn’t accepted even by excruciatingly indifferent Jefferson? What’s his cultural impact? What’s his contribute to our country’s development? His constant squabbles in Congress – at any meeting in general? His permanent braggadocio, idiotic ostentation, swelled up conceit? Showing off in front of the delegates and haughty behavior? Voting for the man unable to make a strategically important decision, voting for someone preferring to procrastinate and postpone? The fact that his vote gravely changed the situation during the election of 1800 rose himself in his own eyes and ascribed non-existent accomplishments to him. Hamilton, enough. You can apologize – here and now – and stop marring this beautiful day with your insipid jokes popping out of your carelessly concocted pamphlets. But no, you want to take revenge for your own disrespect – again, posing, giving a performance, trying to prove what a perfect shooter you are. You’ll have to take responsibility for your words, for your exceedingly long tongue, for your everlasting attacks and accusations – and your hubris.

        “Don’t hesitate, sir,” Hamilton drawled in a mocking manner, reluctantly preparing himself for the duel.

        He looked around slowly – slightly narrowed his eyes, he glanced at the boats and the oars; took a gander at me – and, damn it, he obviously noticed I had soaked a bit!.. He muttered something about the fog – and the wonderful day that lay ahead; patted Pendleton on the shoulder, smiled… and started telling us about his plans for the evenings as if he expected to go home in one piece! As if there was not a gun loaded, there were not a second tensed; me, the one capable to determine his fate, did not exist for him!.. He idly adjusted his sleeves as if preening before a date; grabbed the weapon and glanced at the boats again. Hamilton didn’t look nervous at all – on the contrary, he seemed either to be participating in another passionate dispute, or preparing himself for another blow to inflict on the Republicans, especially on Jefferson who had been elected to run afoul of me.

        “At ten paces?” he asked, adjusting a ginger strand at the temple. Hell, is he attending a party?

        Fighting my annoyance, I nodded. Yes, he surprised me here as well – he baffled me with his outstanding impudence.

        “If you say so, Hamilton.”

        “Good to know that at least now you hear me.”

        I clenched my teeth: he simply couldn’t stay silent for a second! Moreover, the closer the moment of truth crawled, the calmer he became – he wasn’t in the least affected by the seriousness of my intentions! Is he that dumb to take everything for a joke, a cheap trick? The only thing he had to do was to issue an apology and admit the inferiority of his judgement – I’d easily relent! This bastard is always turning the world around into a penny-ante play, and unfortunately this duel wasn’t an exception to the rule. On the contrary: it had awakened the honed skills of a third-rate clown.

        “It’s a pity you can’t shut up even on the brink of death.”

        “On the brink of death? For god’s sake, Burr. I bet I’ll outlive you.”

        And again, that brazen grin, this histrionic astonishment of a bad actor – he wouldn’t be accepted even at the wayside travelling show though he was accepted at the Congress abrim with the same prancing fools!.. No, I am not against the idea of reconciliation, I would forget about the affront, but Hamilton somewhat insists on violence. He vexes me even more so, pits himself against me! With every second he’s digging a deeper hole. I feel a growing urge to tell him that a couple of words could alter everything, even my intentions – he doesn’t even care what nonsense to talk, so if he added a few more lines to his stupid monologue of a great length, it wouldn’t play a significant part for him: a sentence more, a sentence less…

        The seconds strained. At the beginning they thought the duel to be a silly caprice of two men with no death happening at the end (at any rate, Hamilton always managed to interject with a long tedious speech full of redundant details, or with a squib). And now they understood the shots were unavoidable. God knows, I didn’t want it to occur – someone had to watch the mouth instead of talking nonsense amplifying it with publications and pamphlets. If Mother Nature created people for a certain purpose, Hamilton had none – he was a startlingly garrulous experiment, ready to take chances. If others consider that to be elocution and talent, then I realize this lack of interest towards my modest person – to any person whatsoever, as this ruffled rooster outshines the most obtuse parrot chattering days on end. Hard to imagine how his family put up with him – I bet his wife and children elude him all the time.  

        “Check the gun: they say it misfires. You sure don’t want to be a poor shot to boot?”

        Pendleton frowned – and Hamilton definitely saw it though didn’t pay any heed to this. Winked and smiled; no control over the situation. Is it possible he is not scared at all? Is it possible he… he intends to shoot? Is it possible he… wants to end it up this way?

        “Not worse than you are.”

        “We’ll see!”

        Just imagine: that smirk, again! I can’t bear it any longer!

        “Ten paces,” came a muffled voice. I cannot even make out to whom it belongs exactly. Dang it, he isn’t kidding. He really is going to kill me.  

        “One…”

        Everything is so foggy – it seems the haze covered the eyes as well. I am no longer certain what is going on.

        “Two.”

        The second’s voice didn’t quiver – but dropped down a notch.

        “Three.”

        Hamilton barely suppressed the desire to toss another wisecrack. He could hardly keep himself from saying something.

        “Four.”

        Making a step, I stumble over wet grass.

        “Five...”

        I can hear Hamilton’s steps behind my back. Slow, steady, made at the word of command.

        “Six.”

        I falter again. For some obscure reason, I am nervous: maybe I should turn back?

        “Seven.”

        He commences to sing a doltish funny song as if it is the right time to dally. Hamilton manages to ruin the most serious moment – we’re an inch from death!

        “Eight… Nine… Ten. Stop.”

        We turn to each other. He shoots first – what have I done to disgruntle him so much that he wants to destroy me? Is he eager to be the most discussed politician of the time? Wasn’t it enough after that Reynolds’ Pamphlet read by the whole country?

        “You know, Burr,” Hamilton smiled, aiming, “I am not a supporter or adherent to Draconian measures. But drastic times…”

        He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead of listening to his monologue, I way too vividly saw his white finger placing on the trigger. I swear, nothing else seemed more natural to me: he knew how to use the gun; you’d think he was born with the weapon in hand; the way he held it, the way he…

        …shot the tree.

        I hear the bullet piercing the air next to my ear; honestly, it was an inch away from me – and it got stuck in the trunk of a spreading willow now shaking its boughs.

        “…call for diplomacy, not violence.”

        I gave a start. He stood opposite me, unusually collected, straightened up – and appeared taller than I remembered; I saw my own reflection in his violet eyes; I was sure there was no shot at all, and if I hadn’t been deafened by it, I wouldn’t have grabbed my own pistol so hastily, I wouldn’t have been so trigger-happy, I wouldn’t have…

        “Burr… damn you. The wound is fatal. You aren’t as bad as I thought.”

        Hamilton’s voice was muffled and cracked – but his lips were still grinning. Out of the corner of the eye I saw him falling – and the seconds running up to him. As for me… I stood there rooted to the spot, staring into space. Duels had seemed different to me… before I shot Alexander Hamilton, the first secretary of Treasure of the United States.

[fandom-blerd-life]

Black Lightning 1.04: Give Me the Green Light

Previously on Black Lightning, Anissa put together her own training montage, Grace Choi stole our hearts, Khalil asked Jennifer to go steady, and we met the actual ruler of the streets, Lady Eve!

Welcome to episode 4 of Black Lightning where the Green Light is flowing and our characters say “I’m bi” out loud with their mouths! We begin at Garfield High where students are frantic because there’s a boy in the bathroom transforming into a werewolf? Or something? Jefferson goes to check it out, the student (whose name we learn is Bernard) attacks Jefferson, who then uses his lightning blast to subdue him. While this kid doesn’t have a case of the Lupins, he does have some kind of pills in his pocket. Shame, shame, young man.

Meanwhile, Anissa is driving around town, rocking out with her killer curls out, when she spots a few Garfield students doing what appears to be buying drugs from two dudes. And y’all, I know it’s not funny but I fully cracked up when those girls referred to Anissa as Harriet Tubman again. It’s been a few episodes since we heard that “insult” and it completely caught me off guard. (By the way, Happy Black History Month!) Anywho, Anissa rolls up, is all “Hell to the no”, and steps right to the two guys despite the fact that they threaten her with a gun.

During a meeting at the Lightning Lair, Gambi and Jefferson give us some killer exposition by running down a full ass list of what The 100 has been up to since Black Lightning has returned. First they kidnapped his daughters, then there was the shooting at the march, and now… NOW they’ve started circulating a new drug called Green Light. Gambi knows all about Green Light though because apparently he’s fluent in up and coming drugs. Or he’s a Gatsby fanboy who accidentally found the drug in one of his late night Google binges. One of the two. Anyway, that shit is so potent that you only need to take it once in order for you to become hooked. That’s why, as they say, the first taste is free.

Jefferson decides Black Lightning needs to hit the streets so he finds a member of The 100 to shake down for some answers. The theme of this episode seems to revolve around what exactly happens to snitches. But the problem is, every time someone says “snitches get…” they get interrupted by a lightning blast or something. Oh well, I guess we’ll never know. This particular gentleman snitches on a gang member named....2-Bits. I don’t even need to write a joke here. They call him 2-Bits.

We cut to a morgue, I think, where Lady Eve and Tobias are very fine about having a serious conversation over a dead (?) body. Lady Eve is probing said body while telling a story about how in Africa, Albinos are revered and thought to be magical. Eve is not thrilled with Tobias because his entire career, including taking over The 100, was based on the obvious lie that Black Lightning was dead. The people don’t trust Tobias because they feel deceived and IIIIIIIIII’MMMMMM sorry is that dude on the table not dead?? What’s happening here? Am I being obtuse? She was performing some kind of autopsy on a not dead person? Some explain this to me, pretty please.

Jefferson is back at school principaling and having a conference with Bernard (the Not!Werewolf, remember him?) and his dad. Jeff reassures the two that if he has anything to do with it, Bernard will not be expelled from school for this. Once they leave, Vice Principal Kara “I don’t trust your motives ma’am” Foudy disagrees with Jeff on whether or not they should fight the Board on Bernard’s expulsion. Listen. I don’t trust Kara and the way she looks at Jefferson sometimes, HOWEVER! I would be lying if I said I didn’t yell “You go girl!” when she told Jeff that he needed to talk to the board himself because she’s not his secretary. Preach!

During the conference, Jefferson learned that the drugs had come from a man named Ronald Wright. But Gambi informs Jeff that he must be wrong about Wright (I am so sorry), because that dude is hella dead. My man Gambi has definitely listened to the Ten Crack Commandments, because even he knows that you never get high on your own supply!

Our cutie lovebirds, Khalil and Jennifer, are at the hospital where Khalil is starting physical therapy. Khalil is being so incredibly positive about his progress, so when Jennifer overhears two nurses talking about how sad it is to watch Khalil, she goes off on them. She manages to keep it together in front of Khalil, but once she reaches the hallway, she completely breaks down.

Tobias has gone to find the Medical Examiner who actually told him that Black Lightning was dead. Welp, turns out, he only thought it was Black Lightning and this poor poor man never thought he would get caught. Tobias instructs his henchman to take this dude out for, I guess, not understanding his Earth, Wind, and Fire reference.

Back at the house, the Pierce Parents are none too pleased with Jennifer. You see, while she’s been going to see Khalil and making sure he’s not alone, she’s only been able to do that because she hasn’t been going to track practice. I have this very very vivid memory of being at high school track practice and after a 6-5-4-3-2-1 workout, going up to my coach and telling her that I felt like I was going to puke. She then said, “Good! That’s how you’re supposed to feel!” If Jennifer’s practice was anything like mine, I don’t blame her for skipping here and there. For the record, that coach’s yelling is what motivates me to this day so maybe there was something to it... Jeff and Lynn just want to make sure their daughter is making time for herself.  Jennifer wants to quit the team, and to Jefferson’s disappointment, Lynn agrees that if Jennifer feels the same way in 2 days, she can quit.

It’s time for family dinner! Only this time it’s minus Jennifer and plus the Henderson family. They’re having a casual conversation about what they would do if they had superpowers (as you do), and Anissa says if she had powers, she would help people. The same way Black Lightning is helping their community. That Black Lightning is doing a better job at protecting the streets than the police department is. Henderson spouts off the usual arguments against vigilantes but sorry sir, Anissa isn’t finished. She’s been praying and marching and none of that has worked! To her, Black Lightning is a hero. Bless Cress Williams’ face acting in this scene, because he managed to portray the perfect look of hidden pride as Jefferson listened to his daughter unknowingly stand up for him.

Once Anissa excuses herself (I assume she first asked Mona Vanderwaal to borrow a black hoodie) she goes to find those guys who threatened her earlier. But this time, she brought her deep breathing and super strength! Once Anissa sees what she’s done though, she’s afraid that she’s gone too far. Her conscience gets the best of her and she calls an ambulance.

In Freeland’s version of Shorty’s, Jefferson meets up with *snort* 2-Bits. He tries to talk to TB about Green Light and warn him about the cops, but 2-Bits is apparently 6 bits short of a byte and isn’t hearing it. (Oh, you didn’t think you’d get computer humor here? Think again!) So, Black Lightning comes back later to spark some sense into 2-Bits. 2-Bits pleads with Black Lightning not to involve the police because he has two strikes and if he gets picked up, that means he’s going to get 30 years. There was what seemed like a throwaway line here where 2-Bits says that the police are constantly arresting black men for crimes for the smallest things. I say it seems like a throwaway because this show is masterful at weaving in societal commentary while staying true to the story it wants to tell. Black Lightning agrees not to talk to the cops, but only if 2-Bits stops selling Green Light. 2-Bits agrees, but not before hilariously asking for a pre-knockout selfie with Black Lightning.

Back at the hospital, Jennifer tells Khalil that she quit the track team, which somehow gives him the courage to go through with an interview he was previously unsure about. In fact, he wants his Ride or Die girl to do the interview with him, but Jennifer is suddenly unsure.

Meanwhile at school, Foudy and Jefferson are meeting with a snotty Board member about Bernard’s punishment. After the meeting, Foudy says YET AGAIN that she appreciates Jefferson. I’m telling you. I don’t trust it.

Oh hey look, a pretty lady driving an equally pretty car who is this? It’s Tobias’ sister! And she is ready to help him kill Black Lightning.

We see Black Lightning testing out his shiny new Electric Vision, which is cool, but NOT AS COOL AS ANISSA AND GRACE HANGING OUT AND ANISSA TELLING GRACE HOW PRETTY SHE LOOKS. So I have a lot of chill about these two, is what I’m saying. Anissa is lamenting over issues with her parents and asks Grace if she’s ever had to share something important with hers. And Grace says the following, “You do know I’m bi right?” And Anissa is all “duh, fair point, Choi.” Because guess what, Grace is an openly bisexual Asian woman who is dating (?) a Black woman who has superpowers and identifies as a lesbian! On the CW! Oooowee! What a time to be alive! 

The ladies continue talking and Grace gives Anissa some perspective by saying that even though it sucks to feel like her parents need to cosign everything, she would do anything to have the chance to go through that with her own parents. Before they can continue what I imagine was going to be a very fun evening, they’re approaching some some homophobic douchecanoes who want to burn down this “lesbian whore house.” One of the guys knocks Grace down, and Jennifer first checks on her girl before tossing the guy across the lot. We know shit is about to go down, because up. goes. the hood.

Meanwhile, Gambi and Jefferson are stalking a shipment of Green Light when they hear explosions in the near distance. I wonder what that could be? Surely not a newborn superhero using her powers to rid the world of a bunch of bigoted white men? No way! Black Lightning surveys the scene and see nothing but carnage. Gambi pulls up the CCTV footage, but lies to Jefferson about seeing anything on the tapes. Gambi decides to go check this out himself, with his gun. He sees the spot where Anissa literally stomped the earth in, and takes a photo that I’m sure is going right on his Instagram story.

While Anissa takes care of Grace after the attack, she wonders aloud if it would be a good thing if she could make bad guys pay for doing bad things. After a pause, Grace affirms Anissa’s thoughts.

Tobias and his sister Tori are listening to a news story about Khalil and plotting how to take down Black Lightning. Tori suggests reminding the people of Freeland that they have more to fear than hope from Black Lightning. How are they going to do that, you might ask? They’re going to make sure Khalil remembers how much anger he should have toward Black Lightning.

Back at the hospital, Khalil is playing a shiny new Playstation 4 and he’s thrilled because someone has paid all of his medical bills and is even helping his mom with rent. That feeling doesn’t last though, because Jefferson, Khalil’s mom, and Jennifer soberly enter his room, and inform him that his spinal chord was completely severed. In that moment, Khalil knows that he will never walk again.

Jefferson is in his office at school, when Foudy comes in and informs him that the Board will meet him halfway. Bernard can stay in school, if Jeff gives up final say on disciplinary issues. Jeff agrees. He calls Lynn, WHO IS LOOKING FINE AS HELL IN THAT LAB COAT, but she’s too busy to talk to him. It’s not all good news about Bernard, either. It turns out, he’s back on Green Light and his dad got beat up while trying to rescue him from the drug house. The cops did nothing. This sounds like a job for… *insert superhero music* … Black Lightning!

Black Lightning suits up, takes down all of the gang members keeping watch over the house, and carries Bernard right out the door as we hear lyrics from the theme, “Last night I saw a superhero, he was Black.”

Tobias is creepily just sitting in Khalil hospital room, much to Khalil’s surprise. They speak, in the dark, about the fact that Tobias is the one who gave Khalil all the gifts. He did that because Black Lightning messed up his life too, and he wanted Khalil to know that he’s not alone. That it’s okay to be angry because it’s Black Lightning’s fault he’s paralyzed. We end with Tobias promising Khalil that he can show him how to kill his pain.

So what did you think of 1.04: Black Jesus? Personally I thought it was another solid episode that if anything, could have used more Anissa and Grace. Next week, it looks like BOTH Pierce sisters are getting in on the ass kicking action and I AM EXCITED!

As always, catch me on Twitter @njnic23, and a HUGE thank you to my incredible editor, @punkystarshine!

[faithandfairies]

OUAT: The Vortex of Evil

I’ve actually talked about this before, when I talked about Emma becoming the Dark One/ tethering herself to the darkness.

But I thought I’d connect a few different yet similar metaphors OUAT has used to illustrate the same thing or parts of it.

So basically I believe that Emma tethering herself to the darkness is actually a metaphor for her getting married to someone who wasn’t good for her. 

In season 4 we see the darkness attach itself to Regina with every intention of snuffing out her light. So kill her or at least kill anything good inside of her.

And then we see Emma pretty much take her place in that arrangement.

That, I think is in fact how it happened.

(x)

I think Regina got herself into a bad situation or deal she had trouble getting out of and that Emma saved her by taking her place in it. I also think that deal/tether involved Rumple. Since he was whom the Darkness belongs to for most of this show.

The interesting thing is that the Vortex of Evil as Regina described the darkness attaching itself to Emma, also doubled as a portal, since it took Emma to Camelot, where she was haunted by Rumple’s appearance. Remember that for later.

The thing is, that save is not the first time we see Emma save Regina. And the other times hint at something similar as that one.

(x)

This is the first time we see Emma save Regina. Right before this Regina tells Emma that Gold is a snake and to be careful who she gets into bed with. Emma tells her she isn’t getting into bed with anyone, just fighting fire with fire. It turns out that Gold was actually the one who set the fire and Emma saves Regina by dosing it and helping her get out of the building. 

We later see Regina or her Split Queen counterpart turn into an actual snake, but I think that’s just confirmation that Emma got into bed with her at some point as well.  I know “to get into bed with” is actually a saying that can simply mean “working with” but I think in these cases it’s meant to be taken literally.

(x)

Look at that, the Gold choker/ bracelet Rumple put on both Regina and Belle to be able to control their movements. Looks like the one Split Queen wore around her neck in 6x06, I think it was. 

The next time we see Emma save Regina I believe, it’s here.

(x)

The first words out of Regina’s mouth when Emma removes the duct tape are “He tricked you!”

Regina was tied up and duct taped by Rumple while Emma went and killed a dragon. I actually think any time there’s a dragon on this show it’s like the homosexual elephant in the room, symbolic of one or more characters’ sapphic inclinations. 

(x)

Most prominently illustrated by Emma and Regina alone in a room with a dragon in 6x08, A.K.A. just their gay feelings for each other. Trying to run and hide from said gay feelings. Which I’m guessing is hard to do when you can see your desire reflected back at you in the eyes of the other person in the room. Gives a whole new meaning to “I’ll Be Your Mirror” I imagine.  And you know how they got out? By Henry using the Hammer of Hephaestus on the mirror. A hammer that was actually meant to be used to kill the dragon or crush its heart which would kill it. Guess what, Hephaestus was a Greek God of fire with a limp. More on this in a hot minute.

For now back to the season 1 dragon. The other thing that’s interesting is that Emma goes to the dragon to retrieve the dragon egg that was put inside the dragon before she realized what was happening. Rumple then tricks Emma into handing over the egg.

(x)

Here we have Snow gagged and bound, just like Regina. Only in this scenario, Emma gets tricked by Jefferson, the Mad Hatter, into thinking he’s hurt and limping and in need of her help. Hmm, now who do we know that also sometimes limps and sometimes doesn’t on the show?

(x)

Rumpelstiltskin

In fact, I think Rumple is the only other character that has ever limped on this show. Not even twisting her ankle could make Regina limp. 

Back to 6x08, so the way I see it, in the mirror world Emma and Regina got cockblocked by their own gay panic, Rumple and (their concern for!!! (inside joke, right here)) Henry.

As for Jefferson, I think he’s Rumple. (More than any similarity between Jefferson and Rumple-and there are plenty-the disappearing limp connects them.) And so is Whale. Rumple that is. I feel like I’ve also made this connection in a previous post way back when, but I need it again for this post so...

(x)

Basically I think the three men that conspired to hurt Regina in order to create the monster Rumple wanted are, I think, in fact one and the same (Some of the names and faces of Me, Myself and I)

But back to the Jefferson story line. Jefferson ends up kidnapping and drugging Emma by lacing her tea with something. This, I think, is the root to Rumbelle’s story line. Rumple’s favorite chipped teacup is I think pretty much where their story began. Or took off in the way he wanted. It also resurfaces when magic tea is what speeds up Belle’s pregnancy with Gideon.

Anyway, Emma finds Snow and saves her. In this version of events she also saves herself. But the Dark One story line tells us that Emma didn’t manage to save herself.

Then there is Emma saving Regina from dr. Whale by pulling him off Regina and pretty much getting in between Regina and Whale to do it. If you think about it it doesn’t make much sense that Whale came after Regina. Of all the people Regina wronged dr. Whale was not at the top of that list as far as I know. In fact, if anything he wronged her first in a big way. He even ends up trying to do her a favor to get on her good side later because of it. And pretty much everyone ended up questioning his presence and his reasons for wanting to hurt Regina here. But if you consider that Whale is in fact Rumple then it does make sense.

(x)

And my favorite and what this post was originally meant to be about, portals and portal jumping.

Which leads me to this iconic moment.

(x)

But this moment is only a small, yet significant part of a greater story line.

If you remember correctly, what got Emma and Regina to this moment is that Regina got marked for death by Rumple. There he is again. He is heavily involved in Emma and Regina’s story. He or a version of him keeps popping up and a lot of times when Emma and Regina seem to be in mortal danger he is somehow the cause for it.

So basically thanks to Rumple, his wraith wants Regina’s soul. Funny how that is similar to darkness previously belonging to Rumple trying to snuff out Regina’s light.

The portal opening moment is Emma and Regina uniting against a common enemy. It’s an indication that there’s a love connection between them. That Emma cares what happens to Regina and would rather not have Regina have her soul sucked out of her. The love connection is confirmed by the fact that Emma jump starting Regina’s magic is paralleled by Henry using his love for and belief in Emma to jump start Emma’s when she needs it.

(x)

When the wraith goes to attack Regina, Emma pushes Regina out of the way and gets pulled through the portal by it instead. 

(x)

Very much the same way Emma became the Dark One.

It’s also interesting because true love being able to create and power a portal without a bean is an idea Rumple is the first to voice. The portal is powered by love, but it separates the lovers that caused it. i.e. Dark One portal and Mad Hatter portal. Both symbols I associate with Rumple. Basically I think Rumple used Emma’s love for Regina to rope Emma into a deal with him that took Emma away from Regina. 

Regina is devastated and goes dark, well, darker again for a bit, and it takes Emma about 8 episodes to get back to Regina. I have this theory that each episode represents a year that Regina and Emma spent apart from each other. Roughly somewhere between 8 and 10 years I’d say. Which I think is how long Emma’s marriage/partnership to Rumple or whatever his actual name is, lasted.

The Cleo story line tells us that Cleo, a bailbondsperson, took a picture of her daughter, *Sasha Winter, from a distance when she was about 8, I believe. But she never actually met her. That tells me that Emma actually found Henry when he was about 8 and started looking into whether he was okay in the family he’d ended up in. I think Henry is who Emma is looking for when she meets Cleo. I think that episode tells us both about the start of Emma’s search and how it ended. With her finding him without interfering in his life.

*Sasha is a form of Alexandra, the name Cinderella/Ashley gives her daughter. I think that Cinderella/Ashley is also Emma. Winter links back to Snow. And in the scenario of Snow having to give up her child Snow is Emma. The baby she gives up I believe is Henry, not Emma. Unless Emma thought she’d have a girl and planned to name the kid after herself or something. It’s like Snow naming her second child Neal, after an already existing character. It’s just another way to tell us Henry’s story.

Then there’s the one that ties it all together.

(x)

A disheveled, sad, pregnant and married to Hook Emma going through the portal with Hook and leaving behind a lot that matters to her-i.e. Regina and Henry- in favor of a life with him.

Hook also mentions before this that in Storybrooke Emma was fighting off a swarm of pesky little dragons. There is that gay reference again. Because just because you marry a dude, doesn’t make you any less sapphicly inclined if you are.

And as a bonus, two other important times a portal appears.

(x)

Neal gets hurt and falls through the portal and Emma tells everyone he’s dead, without actually having any kind of confirmation. I think this moment is about Emma giving up Henry.

As Shady once said about Emma’s confession to Neal in the Echo Cave actually being about Henry.

I actually wonder if Neal’s entire story line with Emma isn’t about Henry. In fact, the moment where we see Emma meet Neal? With him lounging in the backseat of her car? It’s actually paralleled by Henry hiding under a tarp in the backseat of her car when I think she’s leaving and he wants to go with her.

(x)

The other important portal moment. I think here Bae is Henry. And it’s Rumple refusing to let go of his power, his controlling behavior that makes him lose Bae.

I think it’s because Emma took Henry from him. Because of who he was. Another thing confirmed through Belle when Belle sends Gideon away with the Blue Fairy to get him away from Rumple and the person he is.

If you remember Blue also happens to be the one who gave Bae the bean that made him create the portal that separated them. 

So in conclusion,

I think that:

-Rumple= Jefferson and dr. Whale and sometimes Hook

-Henry=Neal (all versions although I’m not sure if that’s always the case for the elder one) and Bae (but I’m not sure if that’s always the case either. I think sometimes Emma may also be Bae.)

-Emma=Belle and Snow (but not always, sometimes Regina= Snow)

Ooh, why I think Emma is also Belle and Bae aside from all the reasons I’ve ever listed. Bae is short for “Before Anyone Else”. The person or people you love most, like a wife and son maybe? When The Original Dark Curse is cast the name Rumple makes himself remember is “Emma”. I’d say the name of the person that means the most to you would be the one you’d want to remember. I think the reason Rumple didn’t try and remember his son’s name is probably because he didn’t know it. 

(I actually have an extensive post on who I think is whom).

The portals between Emma and Regina and Emma and Hook are about Emma’s marriage/partnership to a man who wasn’t good for her to protect the woman she loved. Leaving her behind in order to save her. I think there was probably some deception and betrayal happening from Regina’s side as well, intentional or accidental.

The portals between Bae and Rumple and Emma and Neal are about Emma giving Henry up to save and protect him from Rumple.

Which I think is why in 7x02 Emma leaves both Regina and Henry behind. Because that’s how it happened. And then they somehow found each other.

[thorne93]

Who Will Win? (Part 4)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 2150

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness, sick parent

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags:  @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld@nedthegay

Sebastian Stan Tags: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock

Who Will Win Tags: @mrs-lancelot @elivanah @ultrarebelheart @learisa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the week finally came. You didn’t work Sundays, it was your only day off. But you were happy for it. Jefferson had treated you like a queen this entire week. He drove you anywhere and everywhere, but you tried to keep it to just to and from work. He brought you lunch every day, and took you out to dinner every night. He was like a saint. You two always found something to talk about and he was an amazing person to vent to because he turned irritating situations into hilarious ones.

Truth be told, you were a little sad that you couldn’t have an excuse to see him today but you weren’t going to push your luck and his generosity. You paid him for the gas, but spending 6 days together after just meeting might’ve gotten on his nerves.

You decided to take the day and make it about you, since you had one of the most stressful weeks of your life. You started to take a shower, but the water never got hot, not even close. It was ice cold.

“What in the world?”

You went down to inspect your water heater and it appeared to be broken. You called a plumber and when he got there he was the bearer of even more bad news.

“Well, not only is your water heater busted, your pipes up throughout the house aren’t up to codes.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll have to strip out some wood, replace a few of these pipes, and replace the water heater.”

You stifled a groan. “And how long will that take?”

“Well my guys won’t be available until Thursday. It’ll take the whole crew and a few more days after that.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Well, with this stuff broken, you got cold showers and cold dishwashing.”

“For five days?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Okay...Well thanks. Yeah if you could come out Thursday, that would be great…”

The plumber left and Jefferson called you.

“Good morning, Alice,” he greeted in that same sexy, cheery tone.

“Hey,” you responded in a discouraged tone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding so sincere it made your heart ache.

“My water heater is broken and they can’t fix it until Thursday and even then it’s going to take some time to fix.” You sighed with a bit of a groan. “Why does all of this happen to me?”

“I’m sorry. If you want, you could stay with me for a while. I have a huge house and lots of spare rooms…”

You laughed lightly. “Uh...I don’t know…”

“I know we don’t know each other very well, but I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You need somewhere with hot water, I would like the company. It’s a win-win. What do you say?”

“Well, I have a dog, would it be okay to bring her?”

“Bring 100 dogs if you wish,” he said jovially.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Ever the saint, Jefferson,” you remarked, a bit of adoration tracing in your tone.

“I’ll be by in an hour to pick you up. Pack whatever you need, alright?”

“Okay. Thank you so much.”

“As always, it’s my pleasure.”

You hung up and raced around to grab your makeup, clothing, curling iron, and the dog food for Rabbit. You called her Rabbit because as a puppy she bounced around so much, and she was all white.

Jefferson came up and helped you with your suitcases and Rabbit happily jumped in his car.

“I hope she’s okay to be in your car,” you noted, worried about her nails on the leather.

“It’s just a car. It’s fine.”

“Thanks again.”

You two drove off toward his mansion and as soon as you got there, Rabbit bolted for the back door to go outside in the fenced in yard.

“Feel free to go shower and I’ll get started on lunch, okay?” Jefferson lightly instructed.

Something had been eating at you since you met Jefferson, and you didn’t want to ask it, but for some reason, now you felt like you had to.

“You’re being so good to me, why?” you wondered. You usually never got this sort of kindness no matter how much you doled it out yourself.

He seemed to be taken off guard by the question. He went from a small smile to a much wider one and a laugh.

“Uh, what do you mean, Alice?” he asked. And you could almost hear the lie in it. He knew why he was doing this, but he was pretending not to...Why?

“I mean, you’re going way out of your way to help me. Why? Most people might just give me a few bucks to help for the car and the house. You’re giving me everything. Food, a house, a car…”

“I’m just helping out a friend,” he said simply. “I’d hope if I was in your situation someone would do the same for me.”

“I don’t think people are quite as kind as you.”

“You are,” he breathed and the air became electrified again between you two, even though you were several feet apart. There was almost this physical desire to move toward him, but you stayed planted for a few more moments.

“Well, uh...You go shower and I’ll make lunch,” Jefferson echoed the command from earlier.

“Alright.”

You showered and met him downstair, the shower feeling amazing as it seemed to wash away your stress and fears.

“I have some scraps, if it’s okay, I’d like to give them to Rabbit,” Jefferson said.

“Sure. She loves human food,” you said as you looked at your white companion. She looked back at you with such adoration, you wondered how it was possible these wonderful things could exist.

You two sat down to lunch and Jefferson said, “So what are you going to do?”

You looked around, confused for a second. “I’m sorry?”

“About your house, your car, your dad…?”

“Oh...right. Well, I’ll just have to wait on the house. I’m hoping my car is finished in the next couple of days...As far as Dad…” You sighed and shrugged, picking around your food. “I don’t know…”

You went into all the pros and cons of amputation and non amputation, no option sounded better than the other.

“I’m leaving it up to him though,” you said as a final decision.

“Why is that?”

“He’s coherent. It’s his legs. If I was in his situation, I wouldn’t want anyone making that decision for me. I mean, if we amputate and...and something happens, I’ll blame myself. And if we don’t, and the sores get infected and go to his heart...I’ll blame myself. If I leave it up to him, there’s no choice I have but to support his decision, and pray it’s the right one.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he questioned as he took a bite of food.

“Well...Yeah. I mean, they wanted to give him a different heart. You know, a heart transplant? My mom left it up to my dad. He ultimately said ‘I don’t want to get a heart transplant, because what if I get the heart of someone who doesn’t like kids?’ And...here he is, several years later, using his own heart. I think he makes the right decisions when it comes to his body.”

“He seems very wise.”

“He is. He’s strong, wise, knowledgeable, loving…He’s the greatest man I know. He was such a hard worker. He’s funny…” You sighed.

Jefferson leaned over and grabbed your hand. “Hey, he can make it through. If he’s done all that you said he has, he can make it.”

“Thank you, Jefferson. You’re so sweet.”

A kind smile played on his dark and pale features, making your heart flutter.

After lunch, you said you would get settled into your room, and Jefferson showed you where it was at. He brought up your suitcases and showed you to a beautiful room, where he dropped off the suitcases as you stood in the door frame.

“What’s mine is yours. I mean it. You need towels, blankets, washcloths, anything, just let me know. If you have a favorite snack or drink, I can go get them…” he offered as he stood in your room.

“I think I’ll be fine, Jefferson, but thank you, so much, for everything.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he started to head out of the room. “I’ll let you get settled in,” he said as he stood right across from you in the doorframe, only a few inches of space separating you two, that same tension clicked to life as soon as he was in front of you.

“I---uh--yeah,” you said, stammering out some sort of response. Whenever you made direct eye contact with him, you were reduced to a bumbling idiot.

He seemed like he wanted to say or do something but instead, he clenched his fist and jaw and just spun and left the room, leaving you speechless, and finally able to breathe. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath.

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

The week seemed to fly by. Your car was ready, which was helpful, so you drove on your own to and from work, but the house was still being worked on. You told Jefferson you would cook for him tonight to repay the favor of letting you basically move in.

Having Jefferson to come home to after a long day of bitchy customers was so perfect. He was quickly becoming someone you wanted to be with. You two enjoyed reading quietly together, walking Rabbit together, making dinner for each other, and having breakfast together.  

So you two were at the grocery, picking up items. You grabbed red potatoes, meat, sauces. You were going to make this a banquet he wouldn’t forget.  

You two got back home and he put on some soft, classical music and you began to work in the kitchen while he cleaned up the dining room and living room. You got done with the meal and brought it out to a beautifully decorated table, and you two sat down to share an amazing meal as conversation seemed to flow easily between you two. Once you were done, you cleaned up the plates and grabbed two glasses of wine and sat on his couch.

“You’re so...beautiful,” Jefferson said as he put his hand on his cheek.

You blushed, playing with your wine glass.

“Thank you, Jefferson. You’re quite the sight for sore eyes yourself.”

“I do try to keep my appearance up,” he noted, gesturing to himself.

You laughed lightly and he seemed to watch you with so much adoration you weren’t sure where it was coming from. You’d only known each other a few weeks.

“It’s been so wonderful living here,” you noted. “I wish I could live here all the time. It’s so big, beautiful, so secluded...I love it.”

“You could stay, you know. I wouldn’t mind,” he said gently.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t...I couldn’t do that,” you said sheepishly, not thinking he would actually take you up on the offer.

“Are you sure? I really wouldn’t mind. LIke I’ve said, I get lonely here. The company would be much appreciated.”

“I know. Me too...but I have a house and I can’t live with a guy I practically just met,” you noted. A look of hurt lashed across his face and you reached towards him, after putting your wine on the coffee table. “No, Jefferson, I don’t mean anything by it. I care for you a great deal and I appreciate all you’re doing for me, I’m just...as much as I would like to, that might be moving too fast, you know?” you said, shrugging.

“No, I understand,” he said simply. “Alice, I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to…”

“Thank you, Jefferson,” you sweetly said, hour hand still on his hand. You two looked down at your hand but you didn’t remove it. His eyes flashed up to yours as you both began moving closer to each other, your faces closing the gap between you two.

“Is this moving too fast?” he whispered, his eyes casting down to yours.

“No,” you breathed back in response. And finally your lips touched. You thought it would be a sweet kiss with as slowly as you were moving, but the instant they made contact, there was a fiery heat behind them. You kissed him hard and bit his lip, your hand searching for his dark locks as his tongue found yours. His hands skimmed your sides as he lifted you and put you on his lap, where you were straddling him.

After a few moments of that, you broke free, foreheads resting against each other.

“Now,” he started, out of breath, “do you remember?”

[fandomflail]

title: Recognition (3/8)

rating: T/M

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: If you haven’t, don’t forget to the CS Fanfic Survey (updated link, please use this) which is a 2 minute survey about how this fandom consumes media. Analytics will be published for everyone’s curiosity.

Past Chapters: (1)  (2) or AO3

CHAPTER 3

It felt like everyone was staring at her. Emma couldn’t tell if she was being paranoid or if the itching and heat all over her body was the culprit. The moisture soaking through her matching lace underwear was uncomfortable and made her too aware of the sensations he’d awoken in her. They needed to leave. Now.

No man she had ever been with had ever, ever garnered such an intense reaction from her body. Not even that artiste who had spent hours mapping her body by the pristine beaches of Thranduilia.

She reached Henry, grabbing on to his arm like he was her anchor.

“Mom, what—“ he sputtered, falling silent.

It was at that moment that she realized she must have looked quite a fright.

“I knew it,” Jefferson hissed, eyes widening in alarm.

Even Gracie, who was usually so poised, took one look at Emma, and gasped.

“Papa,” she whispered, “papa, she’s….”

“Hush now, time to go.”

“What’s going on?” Henry asked, looking at the three of them, and Emma wanted to cry. An elven couple were looking at her funny, and she didn’t know what was wrong.

“Come now, before anyone really sees anything amiss,” Jefferson said quietly, putting an arm around Emma, ushering them through the back of the room. She couldn’t help but shake him off, the feeling so wrong that it made her want to heave.

They exited the main hall, all the way down the corridor, when two tall elves stepped forward. They were dressed in the tunics of the Sukrasa, the guardians.

“His Highness has forbidden you to leave. If you follow us, you may find reprieve in —“

“Tell Killian to shove it,” she snarled, rage spiking her blood and distracting her from the other sensations and tugging under her skin. “I told him not to tell me what to do.”

The two Sukrasa’s were not cowed by her anger; merely stared her down. Beside her, Jefferson fidgeted with his sleeve, arm cradled protectively around Gracie.

“You cannot forbid us from leaving when we come at our own leisure,” Jefferson said, speaking to the older Sukrasa.

“Then we shall not,” the older man replied, stepping aside.

“What the? That’s it?” she asked incredulously.

“Not now,” Gracie said, reminding Emma that there was a lot of things about this world she didn’t know.

Henry was quiet and tense beside her, and none of them spoke until they were far away from the hall. Jefferson had insisted they adjourn to the park near his house, sitting on one side of the picnic table while she and Henry sat at the other.

“Okay, what just happened?” Henry asked, breaking the silence.

“Your mother, it appears, is in fact elvish,” Jefferson said, with a trace of smugness Emma wanted to punch off. Henry’s jaw dropped, but he said nothing. No one did.

“Half,” Emma clarified, after a beat of silence.

“Excuse me? What do you mean, half?”

“Apparently, I’m half.”

“That’s impossible,” he told her, as if she didn’t know that.

“He called me an impossibility,” she conceded, not really knowing how elven genetics worked.

“He? The prince?” Gracie asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you never been to a Healer before? A hospital?”

“No, never been sick enough for them to take blood.”

“Okay,” Henry said, “but that doesn’t explain why…”

“They Recognized, Henry,” Gracie said, sounding far wiser and older than Emma thought she ought to be.

“What? You have a soulmate?!” Henry said, whipping to pin Emma with his stare. “Your soulmate is the prince?!”

“Well, no one can know for sure,” she began, only to be cut off by Jefferson’s sarcastic laugh.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself? Gracie, you have a mirror, don’t you?”

The girl pulled out her mirror, handing it to Emma, who flipped it open.

She gasped.

Her eyes, usually a dark forest green, were bright and wide, the gold flecks in them more pronounced, making her seem…elf-like. Her hair felt lighter, but it was brighter too, and as she ran her fingers through it, realized it seemed finer, the strands like thread. Her pale complexion seemed ethereal, and she knew it was because she was different inside. It was like meeting her soulmate had awakened her dormant genes, bringing forth the elvish part of her to the front.

Her ears, however, remained their disappointing rounded shape.

“And that itching you feel? That hollowness? That need?”

Her eyes snapped to Jefferson, who was looking at Gracie instead of her, “That feeling won’t leave. Not until you… you don’t die if you don’t, unconsummated Recognition is never fatal, but you’ll always feel like your body is in the wrong skin. And if you do, and then you lose them, that feeling never goes away.”

It clicked, suddenly, as she watched him watch his daughter. Gracie had been born of Recognition. It was said children who were the product of a Recognition, had greater physical, mental and magical gifts than those who were not. The whole point of the phenomenon was to  produce healthy offspring that had the maximum beneficial inherited characteristics of both parents, after all.

And if after all these years, he still felt that physical lost of his mate, no wonder the man acted weird. She suddenly felt sick, imagining living her life knowing she could cure that feeling but doing nothing about it, pretending like Killian didn’t exist.

“So what happens now?” Henry asked, looking between the two adults as he attempted to figure it out. Emma wasn’t sure she wanted him to - not until she figured it out first, at least.

“What happens now,” Jefferson said, standing and looking at his watch, “is that the two of you youngsters go to bed, while we discuss some important matters.”

“We should be a part of it,” Gracie said firmly, “after all, it’s something I should know for when my time comes, and what affects Emma affects Henry too.”

Jefferson looked like the idea of Gracie going through Recognition was the last possible thing in all the planets he could possibly want, face souring dramatically as he swallowed his words. If anything, that universal parental feeling of thinking of your adolescent child as a sexual anything made her take pity on Jefferson.

“Nice try, but it’s bed for you two.”

Gracie pouted, while Henry just looked at her worriedly. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Are we staying at the Swan’s, papa?”

Before Emma could open her mouth and agree to that, Jefferson shook his head.

“No. We’re going to stay at a quaint little place I know, under the name Hatter.”

“That seems rather excessive, don’t you think?”

“Better safe than sorry,” he said, getting up and steering the children down the path.

She didn’t ask exactly what wasn’t safe. Killian wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, even if she didn’t know him. But he had seemed unstable… like the burn was harder for him. Paranoid though he may be, Jefferson had a point. At least until they figured… something out.

After the children were tucked in, Jefferson led her to the kitchen of the Bed & Breakfast. They were its only inhabitants, so it was quiet where they sat at the breakfast bar.

“What are you going to do?” he asked her, after pouring a generous amount of wine into her glass, claiming alcohol would help dull the edge.

“I don’t know. There’s two huge things. One, I’m half-elf, which means, I am, literally, a freak of nature.”

“Plus, I guaranteed you weren’t abandoned. The humans may have instigated the war, and the elves may have pushed back, but all said and done, they would never harm an elven child, half or not. You were probably sent away from protection, if anything.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “In any case, I’m a long, long way from home. Nysno. If my parents are still alive, well, they’re really far away.”

A pause, then, “Will they run weird experiments on me?”

“Of course,” Jefferson said blankly, “you’re a miracle, Emma.” His lips turned down as he said, “But you’ll also become a political piece, whether you like it or not. Those who fight against Integration will call you an abomination, and those who fight for it will use you as proof that we can inhabit this planet together. The hardiness of the human genetics and the longevity of the elves, among other things.”

“Realistically, who will know?”

“The Sukrasa serve the Ruling Noble Family exclusively. They live, breathe and die by their code.”

“They let us pass.”

“It’s in the code.”

Emma rolled her eyes, moving on to more important things. “So, as long as Killian keeps his mouth shut, they keep their mouth shut?”

“Yes. Announcing something like this would cause disturbances in both worlds, until there is proof, and until they figure out how this benefits their agenda, you’re safe,” he said, “you best be prepared for what if the prince doesn’t, though.” he warned, the way he said prince sounding like an insult to her ears.

“Yeah,” she sighed, taking a large gulp of the wine. Her skin was burning up. She wanted to run a few miles to burn energy, but settled for bouncing her leg up and down instead.

“So, are you going to ignore your soulmate?”

“I don’t know. I know, logically, that I shouldn’t.”

“You do realize, that this itch, this need will abate almost immediately after sex, right?”

“What?”

“Surely, you can’t be ignorant to…” he trailed off.

“I’ve never needed to know the details, it’s never concerned me,” she defended.

He sighed. “I suppose, one day, hate as I do, I will have to speak to Gracie about this. Well, might as well start with you.”

He sighed again, taking a sip of his own wine, and squared his shoulders.

“You see, when two elves Recognize,” he said, ignoring her muttered half-elf comment, “their soul meets when their eyes do. You, I, everything in this universe is created from the stars. The ether, the cosmic dust. The energy from where you are created has its own musical energy, a vibration.”

She nodded, paying attention despite the buzz in her brain willing her to move. To consume.

“Most of this energy isn’t sentient, so of course, there is no pull, but sometimes, two beings are created from the same space of energy. You match, on every particle of your being. That is your soulmate. Does it happen to everyone? No. Do their personalities always match yours? No. Does it always end happily? No.”

“I’ve read about that,” she said, remembering reading a magazine about how nasty a soulmate break could be.

“But when it does, it consumes you. Every part of you is screaming to be reunited with its mate. So all you need to do, to satiate that, is, well, mate. His seed must flow uninhibited to you,” he said.

Emma made a face of disgust, letting out a long string of ewwww’s.

“Hmm, I should reword that when I tell Gracie, yes?”

“Yes, dear sweet lord almighty, never use that sentence again.”

“Alright then, what do you suggest?”

“What I get is that… he has to cum in you to fix the edge?”

“How is that less crass?!”

“It wasn’t, I was just clarifying!”

“Right. Well, he has to…” Jefferson trailed off, taking a deep breath. “He must ejaculate without any protection, and you must not in any way alter your chemical composition either. No emergency contraceptions, or anything.”

“Is that why it usually ends up in a kid?”

“Essentially, yes. There’s plenty of literature about how the mixing of the basic seeds of life is what harmonizes the body.”

“Yeah, there’s no way to reword this section without being 100% gross.”

He sighed again. “That’s essentially it. But the feeling is so good, the person feels so right, that most of the time, they become your mate for life.”

“Is that how you had Gracie?” she asked, after a moment of silence.

He sent her a sharp look, never one for sharing personal information.

“Yes, and her mother died in childbirth, as they often do. Gracie barely made it, but she’s a strong girl.” The finality in his tone let her know that was all he was going to say on the matter.

“Soooo…. I just need to find the prince, fuck him, and I can go back to my regularly scheduled life?”

“In theory, I suppose.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.”

“It really doesn’t.”

“It’s a solid, 10 out of 10 plan.”

Jefferson sighed again, draining his wine.

* * *

Emma could not sleep.

Torment.

There was no other word to describe what she was experiencing; the dull throbbing between her thighs pulsing through to where her womb would be. Recognition triggered ovulation, the book Jefferson had left for her had said. But it wasn’t quite time for her yet, so she wasn’t sure how that worked. Still, it felt like everything below the waist throbbed, and her chest felt hollow.

In the quiet of the small private guest room, Emma let a whimper escape her lips as she lay curled on her side, the book open. The words were blurry and out of her focus as she gripped a pillow between her thighs, walking herself through the sensations.

‘Fucking it out of her system’ seemed like she was letting herself down. She could take a challenge. She could override fate and the universe. She was stronger than this bullshit.

Emma wasn't weak. She would obey her brain over her body.

“It’s just Day 1, Emma. You just need to learn how to deal,” she told herself soothingly.

She didn’t dare close her eyes again, as Killian’s lips had flashed clearly through her memory, the bright blue of his gaze searing her. Her imagination outdid itself as it imagined the lithe elf above her, his body merging with hers. She was so wet and lush down there that it was easy to imagine the essence that coated her was his.

What sort of lover would he be like?

She’d had a few elves, both male and female, some with grace, but some encounters, with strength. She wondered, lying there, even as she told herself to stop thinking about it, if Killian was the kind of lover to give pleasure first. Many elves were like that - the longer they had lived, the more patience they had, the more they understood that true pleasure was in giving first, before receiving.

But there were a few others, the younger ones, who loved their displays of strength, like the she-elf who had fingered Emma so hard she’d bruised her to the point of blood. Killian fingers would fit well in her, she thought suddenly, remembering the way he’d curled them around her neck.

She wondered if he’d also curl them around her neck in passion - did he have the need to just possess? Was he lying wherever it was he lived, his large fingers wrapped around his swollen manhood, attempting to alleviate the need?

She’d given it a go herself, had rubbed the ridiculously swollen flesh of her sex, tweaked the tight little nubs her nipples had become, had flicked and flicked herself until her back had arched off the bed, only to realize that it wasn’t quite what her body needed.

“It always seems like the worst ever when you first get hit, but then you adjust,” she whispered, rubbing her belly in gentle circles.

“All you have to do, Emma, Emma my girl, my buddy, my pal, is stay the fuck away from that really hot, how the fuck is he so hot, elf. Recognition is for making cute little elf babies that for reasons I can’t figure out tends to lead to their mother’s death, what the fuck is that about, how can they have not figured out how to make that not happen, and anyway, you don’t need an elf baby, or a human baby, or whatever, so just stay the fuck away, ride out this wave of lust and sex crazy bitch in heat thing you have going on, give it a few days and treat this like a period but inverse and then it’ll go away and you’ll learn to deal and you can stay away from this mess and you’re good. Whoo,” she rambled under her breath.

It may not have been the most motivational or inspirational self-talks, but she believed herself, and that was what truly mattered.

Go to Chapter 4

tagging those who asked, please track tag ‘cs ff recognition’ for future updates. let me know if you want to be untagged:

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[evenstevensranked]

#51: Season 3, Episode 9 - “Short Story”

After Lawrence Jr. High temporarily merges with a neighboring school, Louis discovers he has an "evil twin" by the name of Loomis Freeman who pulls even worse immature pranks than he does. Ren likes a mystery merger guy she offered to share her locker with until she meets him face-to-face and finds out he's significantly shorter than her.

The episode opens with Wexler on the school intercom explaining what’s going on, while simultaneously getting a deep tissue massage. Not a weird start at all. There’s been an infestation of cockroaches *shivers* at Jefferson Junior High. So for the time being, the Jefferson kids are staying at Lawrence. Within the first minute, Ren, Ruby and Monique are talking about what they’re going to wear to the school’s “social event of the season.” Ren says that some of the Jefferson guys have serious date potential, so the three girls start checking the guys out. I kinda like this, because the first dude they pick is black. I know it shouldn’t be important, but I couldn’t help but notice. (As a biracial person, I just tend to be more aware of this stuff lol) I thought it was nice!! No discrimination on Disney Channel! 

Ren tells the girls that she volunteered to share her locker with someone. When she opens it up, it’s clear that someone has already moved in. They suspect it’s a boy. You can tell the person is into photography. There’s a camera and some prints in there. Ren takes a look at some of the things and concludes that the mystery guy’s stuff is “cool” and she wonders who he is. Oooooh!

Next we see Louis, Twitty and Tawny in the hall. Twitty asks Louis if he’s going to get a new suit for the “big dance.” Louis says “Let me explain something to you, because I’m adamant about this. There is a dance this Friday night, but it’s not necessarily the BIG dance!” Tawny asks why not since it’s their semi-formal. Which is another thing that makes me feel like they’re supposed to be in High School, but Disney decided to set it in Junior High for demographic reasons. I never had a semi-formal in middle school. But, hey! Maybe that’s just me. Can I also just say - I love that Louis used the word “adamant”? He makes a solid point though when he goes on to say that he doesn’t like to throw the word “big” around: “It’s always the Big Dance, or the Big Formal, or the Big Track Meet. WHAT ABOUT THE TRACK MEETS THAT ARE JUST TRACK MEETS?!” -- True.

Suddenly, we get a 7 years pre-���Glee” Naya Rivera cameo! She walks up to the gang and stomps on Louis’ foot. She accuses him of putting gum in her hair. He swears it wasn’t him so she kicks him again for lying. The plot is being set up without giving it away pretty well here!

Twitty awkwardly puts her hair in his pocket at the end. I don’t get that, lol. But… okaaaay.

Ren has yet to meet her mysterious locker buddy so, with some persuasion from Monique and Ruby, she takes a look in one of his books and finds out his name is Travis Gresham. Ren decides she has to meet him. So, she basically turns into a nervous puddle of goop every time she sees a Jefferson dude, thinking any one of them could be him. But, nope! No luck. 

We see Louis (or at least someone who looks just like Louis) hiding in the hall watching Twitty use the water fountain. The water goes everywhere and “Louis” runs away laughing. Soon after, we see Louis being taken into custody by Wexler. This time he’s being accused of putting a fake mouse in the faculty fruit bowl but once again, Louis has no idea what Wexler is talking about and is screaming that he’s innocent. Ren is distracted by this drama and ends up missing Travis get a book out of their locker. Since she’s Vice Principal Ren Stevens, she decides to go to the office and look up his file. Of course, there’s no photo attached to it. However, while she’s there she notices a different file with a picture of Louis attached to it. Except it’s not Louis… It’s LOOMIS! Yeah. A Jefferson kid by the name of Loomis Freeman. This is too much, lol. (See cover photo.) 

Ren immediately shows Louis the file and he figures out that it must be Loomis who’s been playing all the pranks and starts to refer to him as his “evil twin.” Twitty even believes that it was Louis who rigged the fountain until Louis shows him the picture of Loomis. I love their friendship. Twitty believes him right away, no questions asked. It’s great. Next, a girl with chocolate all over her face approaches Louis at lunch. She doesn’t say a single word because if she did Disney would have to pay her, so she just stands there silently blaming him for it and pies him in the face as payback. Poor Louis, man. Dang.

“Loomis Freeman must be stopped, Twitty.”

Ren hears someone say “Hey, Travis!” to a guy at lunch, sooo... It must be the mystery guy!! Yay! She goes over and introduces herself as his locker buddy. She sits down and they end up having an awesome conversation. They talk for so long, they don’t even notice that lunch is over and everyone’s gone! Travis asks Ren to the dance and she’s so excited……. until they stand up and he’s literally at least a foot shorter than her. Yikes! I would try not to care about something as trivial as that but I can definitely see how Ren might be embarrassed.

She tries her best to be kind because they did get along amazingly. But when Ruby and Monique meet him, they tease her and crack jokes about it. Rude. (But honestly some of the jokes were funny. I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m so sorry, Travis!)

All of a sudden, Louis Loomis comes riding by on a bike and sprays the girls with a water gun. Louis runs up to them seconds later and asks if “he” just rode by on a bike and which direction “he” went, haha. Loomis and Louis are dressed extremely similarly though. That’s a bit of a slip-up, imo. They should’ve at least dressed them in slightly contrasting styles or something because the only physical/visual difference between them is Loomis’ hair -- it’s teased out larger than Louis’. I will say, one thing I actually really like about this episode is that it highlights how mature and smart Louis actually is compared to someone much sillier and dumb.

Loomis. 

Louis, like, 5 seconds later. I know they’re supposed to look alike and confuse people and everything. But, they’re already being played by the same actor!! They didn’t need to actually be dressed like twins. What are the odds of that? Well, then again.. what are the odds Louis would have an identical evil twin? I’m taking this show too seriously, lol.

Louis has a large copy of Loomis’ file photo in his room and is using it as a dartboard. For real though, that picture should honestly be a poster or something. I mean, how iconic is this image?! If Even Stevens ever becomes as popular as other older shows in the nostalgia wave this would most definitely be a hipster-y poster to have. Like, this picture of Urkel or that “Animal House” John Belushi poster or something. Bad examples. I can’t think of anything else right now. You get the gist!! One of those posters that speaks for itself. You look at it and automatically know there’s a pop culture reference there. Even if you’re not familiar with what/where the reference comes from, you just KNOW it’s a thing. It’s Shia LaBeouf making a ridiculous face. I’d hang that in my room right now.

Louis is getting super worked up over the fact Loomis is basically ruining his life. He stops to think of what Loomis’ next move might be and realizes he’s most likely going to try to sabotage “the Big Dance.” Yep. Louis goes back on his word from earlier in the episode and explains “it just became the Big Dance.” Perfect!

During class, Ren can’t stop thinking about Travis’ height. She tries telling herself that it’s not important but this quickly segues into a nightmare-ish daydream sequence. She imagines going on a date with him and he just keeps getting shorter and shorter -- until he's a tiny little ant and Monique accidentally sits on him. Ouch. It actually reminds me of this scene/montage from Lizzie McGuire, where Gordo feels self-conscious about his height and also dreams about being super tiny. 

Ren lets the pressure get to her and says she can’t go to the dance with him. 

Loomis already put flies in the ice cubes (nasty!) by the time Louis and Twitty arrive at the dance that night. Wexler suspects it was Louis who did it but lets him off the hook with a warning. Side note: As someone who had a massive crush on Shia/Louis growing up and feels like a 12 year old again every time they watch this show… I have to say that Louis looks so weird in the best, most lovely way ever when he's not wearing a freaking Hawaiian shirt lol. It’s so refreshing to see! Like, whoa.

He looks so suave. Why did people sleep on Shia and call him ugly back then?! Also this blazer is so loud and oddly very “Louis” somehow. It’s not really the kind of blazer I’d picture him wearing but it just works. Same goes for the TURTLE NECK?! Really. Louis owns a turtle neck?! I love this character. Ugh.

Ren, Monique, and Ruby go to the dance together and they’re all dressed very Junior High appropriate and accurate! My friends and I dressed exactly like them at our 8th Grade class night, which I guess you could consider our version of a “prom” type thing. The dress I wore was super similar to Ren’s minus the giant flower, haha.

Ren feels bad about turning Travis down and is really hoping to see him there. She waits by the punchbowl and Loomis dances his way over like a fool. Ren is convinced he’s Louis at first and compliments his outfit, but then he sprays her in the face with one of those squirting flower pins on his jacket. Loomis runs off laughing and Ren realizes it was the ~evil twin.~ Louis walks around a bit brainstorming what Loomis could be plotting when it hits him… Loomis is going to fill the overhead balloons with water.

Same, Ren.

Travis gets up in front of everyone at the dance and shows a slideshow of photos he took during his week at Lawrence. He thanks LJH for being awesome hosts and ends the slide by saying “and some of us even made new friends…” accompanied by two super cheesy “candid” photos he took of Ren, lol.

Meanwhile, Louis comes face to face with Loomis. This is pretty great. Not only does it showcase Shia playing two different characters in one scene (very well, I might add) but it’s just another thing that shows how serious Louis can be when you put him next to an actual wacky lunatic. 

Sure enough, he finds Loomis up above the dance holding a balloon full of water. Louis mocks him for only filling one balloon and says he’s tired of being blamed for his “shoddy work.” Louis’ vocabulary is on point in this episode. He spends some time trying to convince Loomis to hand over the balloon - as if it’s a gun and Loomis is one minute away from pulling the trigger or something. Unfortunately the balloon ends up falling on Ren, and Louis is genuinely upset about it. I’d be sick of being blamed for crap like that too. Wexler proceeds to KICK LOUIS OUT OF THE DANCE. He seriously pushes him out the door and locks him out. This bothers me so much!

Louis vs. Loomis: WWE SmackDown.

Ren ends up apologizing to Travis and all is well again. They dance together and it’s a little awkward. Not because of the height difference but because, as I’ve mentioned before, “Romantic Ren” is cringy. Part of me feels like she’s supposed to be though. Let’s face it - we were all overly dramatic and took “relationships” (i.e. instant messaging two words to your crush on AIM last night) very seriously in middle school.

The episode ends with Tawny approaching Loomis thinking he’s Louis. Come on, Tawny! You should be able to tell it’s not him! Loomis creepily smells Tawny’s shirt and says “…………..you smell purrrrdy.” It’s actually hilarious. Tawny is so confused. She’s just like “….you smell… purrrrdy too?” I can’t. Loomis asks her to dance and Louis ends up having to watch them slow dance from outside the window. He’s basically having a stroke screaming at Loomis to get off of her. This is so??? 

Wexler sees Louis at the window and goes one step further by closing the blinds on him!! I feel so bad.  

This episode always leaves me feeling frustrated lol. Why does Louis have to lose like that?! :( This one is actually pretty good and entertaining though! The Louis/Loomis face-off is probably the best scene. And I don’t mind the Ren plot either! My only real issue is that there isn’t really any stand-out dialogue here. And the evil twin thing is, just… I mean… really? Season 3 was wild. I’m not gonna lie, when I first got back into the show I kept forgetting about this episode for some reason?! I don’t exactly know why. How could you forget Loomis Freeman?! 

I hope you’re all doing well during this crazy time on Earth. Thank you so very much for reading, as usual! And chime in below! :)

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