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kmomof4 · 4 years

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Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates Ch. 2 Emma

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Y’all’s reaction to the last chapter was everything that this writer’s heart could have asked for!! HUGE INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU ALL!!!

TREMENDOUS love and thanks and all the good things I can possibly give to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta services, @hollyethecurious for her encouragement and listening to me whine, the CSSNS and CSMM discord ladies for their encouragement and help with the title, and to @spartanguard for her PERFECT artwork!!!

Chapter Summary: Today we meet Emma for the first time, in 1650 London.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 4.4K of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Love’s Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

1650 London

With a final agonized scream, the raven haired woman collapsed against the pillows piled at the head of the bed as the cries of a newborn filled the room. Granny smiled down at the scrunched up face she held in her hands. The rest of the child’s body followed. “It’s a girl, Mary Margaret.”

The young woman laughed weakly as Granny held her daughter up for her to see. “You were right, Granny,” she breathed.

“Well of course, I was right,” she replied, indignant. With quick, efficient movements Granny cleaned the baby up and wrapped her in a soft blanket that she had just finished crocheting a few days before. “That charm has been handed down in my family for generations and it’s never been wrong.”

The strong blonde man who had been waiting outside came running into the room just as the old midwife handed a small bundle wrapped in the white blanket to the exhausted but smiling woman reclined against the pillows. Making his way over to the bed, he placed a tender kiss on her temple. He reached around her shoulders to draw her into his side and looked down into the cloudy gray eyes that stared back at him. “It’s a girl, David,” his wife whispered, smiling up at him.

Granny’s normally no nonsense exterior melted at the sight of the young family as she took in the tender moment. Mary Margaret sat reclined on the bed with her husband’s arm around her as he stroked the crown of the nursing baby.

“Oh look,” whispered David in surprise, “Look at the birthmark. On her neck.”

“It looks like a swan in flight,” Granny said, nodding. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a birthmark with as clear a shape as that.”

Mary Margaret raised herself slightly from the pillow to look down at her daughter before flopping back again, her eyes glazing over with weariness. “Wow,” she said on a breathy exhale as she lost her battle with fatigue.

“Certainly appropriate, with our name.” David chuckled then leaned in and again kissed his wife’s temple. “Thank you for everything Granny. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Granny scoffed, waving aside his sentiment. “You would have been fine, David,” she asserted, “You’ve got yourself a fine, strong woman there and a good, level head on your shoulders. You would have figured out something.” She came closer and watched fondly as the baby continued to suckle, oblivious to her worn out mother. “Now, the room is yours for as long as you need it.” She waved away his objection just as he was opening his mouth. “David, I have work for you that will more than adequately compensate me for your room and board. Mary Margaret needs to rest. It’s no easy feat to bring a child into this world.” She turned her attention to the dozing woman. “See?” she questioned him. “She’ll need to stay right there taking care of this little one for several days, at least. Once she’s up and around, I can use her too. I’m getting too old for this, and Ruby isn’t old enough to take over for me.”

David closed his mouth, stunned, as he realized exactly what Granny was offering him and his family. “Are you saying that we can stay here? Permanently?” he asked, incredulous.

“Of course, I am,” the matronly woman acknowledged with a smile. “Harold, God rest his soul, would never forgive me if I put your family out on the streets. Especially this little one.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

David’s shoulders slumped in relief and acceptance. “Thank you, Granny,” his voice caught with emotion, “I can’t tell you how much that means.”

“You just take care of your family,” the old woman gruffed, “That is payment enough.”

Granny looked fondly at the sleeping mother and baby before slipping out of the room.

~*~*~

Pirate captain Killian Jones entered his cabin, weariness hanging about him like a cloak. It was the first time in three days that he had seen the inside of his quarters. Ever since a storm the likes of which he had never seen came upon the ship that he had called home ever since Rumplestiltskin had murdered his brother and turned him into the cursed creature he was now. He had little doubt that the monster was behind the storm. The suddenness with which it blew up and the ferocity he and his men had battled for days all spoke to the magical, dark magical, attributes of the storm. Ever since Rumplestiltskin left him alone on the floor of this very cabin over 60 years before, he had delighted in returning every so often, taunting and tormenting him. The only reason Killian could come up with is that the monster just wanted to remind him of their connection and that, so far, he had failed in his vow to destroy him.

They had now, finally, left the storm behind them. Killian stripped down to just his leather pants, hanging his coat, waistcoat, and shirt on various furnishings in the cabin to dry. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled off his boots and socks. Once he sufficiently dried himself, he pulled down his logbook to record the battle with the storm. As he flipped to the next empty page, his eyes and thoughts skimmed over previous entries covering many years.

The attempt, at first, to hide his new nature from his crew, until the overwhelming bloodlust took over and he attacked and killed one of his men.

The mutiny that was spawned because of his lack of control. When faced with the anger, and yes, fear, of his once loyal crew, Killian’s rage at his helplessness against his fate and their perceived audacity completely filled him until he attacked them, leaving the entire crew dead at his feet.

Killian sneered as the next entry and memory paraded itself across his mind’s eye. Watching from afar as his parents frantically searched for not only their beloved sons, but also the Blue Fairy. He would assume, given her magic, that she was aware of what had happened to him and his brother. She apparently couldn’t reveal to the king and queen just how utterly and completely she had failed in her duty to protect the family from Rumpelstiltskin. So when she left their presence and saw what had happened to Liam and Killian, she disappeared as well.

Finally gaining enough control over the bloodlust that he was able to take on a new crew.

The ensuing decades that were his darkest, both as a pirate and as a vampire. He refused to feed on his crew, that could get expensive quickly, but his own self-loathing and impotence in the face of his nature were enough to unleash the, literally, bloodthirsty pirate that was always just under the surface, the bloodlust licking at his veins. When they captured merchant ships, Killian led his crew in wholesale slaughter, gorging himself on the still warm blood of their adversaries, as his men transferred the loot to the Jolly. Once he was sated, he used his powers of compulsion and persuasion to make his crew believe that when they were dumping the drained corpses overboard, they were simply disposing of rotted food.

Watching as his parents grew old with no heir until they passed and the throne went to the son of Brennan’s younger brother.

Finally turning to the last entry, his eyes drifted over lines that he knew he didn’t write.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

When True Love’s Kiss doth unfold

Between soulmates unbound by time

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

Their True Love will break the hold

And Dark magic will be no more.

Killian’s brows furrowed as he read the lines again. Dark’s minion? Dark magic no more? Is it talking about Rumplestiltskin? The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan? Soulmates? What does all this mean? The confusion he felt as he pored over the words yet again continued to grow. Who wrote this? How did it get here? Would one of my crew dare to enter my cabin without my knowledge and permission, much less write in my logbook?

His last entry was from three days before. So someone had made this entry at some point during the storm. But no matter how many times he read the words or tried to figure out answers to his questions, he couldn’t make any sense of the entry in his journal. Shaking his head, he determined to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the recording of the storm.

Many hours later, while Captain Killian Jones slept, the Blue Fairy materialized in the cabin and waved her wand over the sleeping man. With the white magic that settled on him, she knew that when he woke, he would have no memory of the prophecy recorded in his journal. Not until the proper time. Not until the blue eyed prince met his golden haired Swan.

~*~*~

Killian Jones entered the inn and stamped his nearly frozen feet on the threshold as he shivered under his traveling cloak. Anger licked his veins as he made his way over to the blazing fire in the hearth to warm himself after his trek from the London Pool where his ship was docked. He was chasing down a lead that was supposed to give him information on a possible way to destroy Rumplestiltskin. Whispers and rumors had reached him about an instrument that might be capable of killing the monster and freeing him from the Darkness that coursed through him. Unfortunately, that lead had proved fruitless.

A young woman with sunshine in her hair hurried over to him at the hearth with a pint of ale. “May I take your cloak, sir,” she asked.

“Aye, lass,” he replied. “Thank you.” Too distracted to take real notice of the young woman, he handed her his cloak and sat down at a nearby table. She returned moments later with a bowl of hot stew that smelled divine. The months at a time being out to sea made fresh, hot food all the more welcome when making port.

He looked up into the girl’s face and was captivated by the green eyes that skittered away from his once he caught them. As she turned away from him and headed back towards the kitchen, something came over him. Something that he hadn’t experienced in decades. The bloodlust that he had under control for over 70 years completely took him by surprise. He felt his fangs snap into place and a red haze descended over his sight, telling him that his pupils were red as blood. He bowed his head toward his meal until he had himself under control again, eyes blue as the summer sky and fangs retracted.

He looked up again and scanned the room he found himself in. Just like every other tavern he’d ever frequented, he found a large and cheerful hearth keeping the frigid cold of the freak London snowstorm at bay. Over to his left, he saw stairs leading up to the rooms for rent for weary travelers. The door opened again with more pushing their way through, seeking the warmth the inn offered. To the right of the door, the counter with the kitchen behind was bustling with the girl going back and forth between the counter and the blonde man behind it and the tables that the newcomers settled at.

Unfortunately, they had settled only a single table away from him and every time the girl came to attend to them, the bloodlust washed over him again. He concentrated even harder on the meal set before him, wrestling himself back under control when she approached him again.

“Is everything alright, sir,” she asked, “Would you like some fresh bread to go with the stew? Granny is just taking some out of the oven…” she trailed away as his eyes met hers again. He was gratified to see that there was nothing but curiosity and openness in her gaze. He had obviously been successful in keeping his true nature hidden from her.

“Aye, lass,” he answered her, “that would be lovely.” She turned away from him and as she did, he noticed the swan birthmark on her neck. A swan in flight.

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

A completely forgotten line from a completely forgotten journal entry he had found many years ago. Could this girl be the golden haired Swan? And he could only conclude that he must be the blue eyed prince. He sat, completely gobsmacked as he watched the girl approach his table again with several hunks of freshly baked bread on the tray she carried. She stopped at the other occupied tables, lightening her load every time, before she carried on toward him. Arriving, he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale, noting the aroma of the bread as well as the scent of her, just to make sure that the bloodlust was firmly back under his control.

“Thank you again, lass,” he drawled. “Please conduct my sincere compliments to the cook of this delicious meal. Whom should I speak to about procuring lodging for the night? I’m not inclined to go back out into that until it clears up a bit.”

Her eyes shot toward the door as it swung open yet again, letting in the largest crowd yet, along with the blustery wind and snow. “That is very true, sir,” she acknowledged. “The weather is fit for neither man nor beast. My father is behind the counter. He’s the one you should speak to.”

“Thank you. I shall do that as soon as I finish my meal,” he declared, tucking into the food before him yet again.

He used the last bite of bread to soak up the last of the broth from the stew before rising from his table and making his way toward the counter with the blonde man behind it. “Good evening, sir,” Killian called as he approached.

“Good evening,” the man replied. “I hope you enjoyed my wife’s stew and Granny’s bread.”

“Undoubtedly, sir,” he rejoined, “It’s been many a month since I’ve partaken of a meal as satisfying as the one I just enjoyed.” He leaned across the counter with his hand extended toward the man. “Captain Killian Jones.”

“Ah,” the man exclaimed, taking Killian’s outstretched hand. “I wondered if perhaps you were a seafaring man. David Swan. How else may I help you?”

It was all he could do to keep his face from showing his complete and utter surprise at the confirmation of his earlier thoughts. “A pleasure to meet you, David,” he answered, pointing back toward the door of the inn. “I’d rather prefer to not have to leave until the weather clears up. Might you have a room available until it does?”

“We do indeed,” he affirmed. “Emma?”

“Yes, Papa,” the girl answered, approaching the counter again.

“Would you please see that room 2 is ready for Captain Jones here,” he asked his daughter.

Killian reached out toward Emma, palm up, in a gesture of invitation. She lay her own hand in his own before he lifted it to place a small kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you for the excellent service and meal tonight, Miss Emma. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yours as well, Captain,” she replied, with a slight curtsey, “I’ll just go see to your room. I’ll return shortly.”

Killian watched her walk away, his thoughts in complete turmoil. Shaking his head and returning his attention to her father, he scratched behind his ear as he took in David’s broad smile. “She’s nearly sixteen and would make a fine wife for a sea captain before too much longer.” David answered his unasked question.

Scratching furiously in nervousness, Killian repeated, “So, she’s 15, hmm?” He swallowed around the sizable lump in his throat as a petite black haired woman whose temples were just dusted with frost joined them at the counter.

She turned her eyes upon David with a slight reprimand in them before turning her gaze upon Killian. Green, just like Emma’s. Must be her mother. Killian extended his hand toward the woman, just as he had moments before with the young woman. Brushing his lips across her knuckles, he introduced himself again. “Captain Killian Jones, milady, at your service.”

“My wife, and Emma’s mother, Mary Margaret Swan,” David introduced them.

“It’s my honor,” Killian murmured, sincerely. “If I’m not mistaken, I have you to thank for the stew I partook of this evening?”

Mary Margaret’s cheeks tinged a light pink. “Oh, it was nothing, Captain,” she deflected, “I’m so pleased you enjoyed it.”

“I truly did,” he affirmed. “I was just telling your husband that after many months at sea, a hot, fresh meal is greatly appreciated.”

Emma approached the counter again. “Your room is ready, Captain Jones. If you’ll follow me please.”

With a slight bow to David and Mary Margaret and wishes from both sides for a pleasant evening, Killian followed Emma to his room.

~*~*~

It was nearly a fortnight later before the snow had melted enough for Killian to leave the inn. During the time he had spent with them, he had become quite good friends with the Swan family. He was careful to keep the rapidity with which he was losing his head over Emma hidden as he became her constant companion in her leisure time. Which admittedly, wasn’t much. David and Mary Margaret didn’t have any objection to his obvious affinity for their daughter, and he had even managed to win over the matriarch of the family, Granny. Being in such close quarters with Emma was an exercise in self control such that he had never had to endure before. But, in the end, he had been successful in keeping his true nature from the happy family. The puzzling questions concerning the journal entry still plagued him, but he thought that perhaps, with his new certainty of who Emma was, he might be able to figure out what the rest of it meant.

Entering his cabin, Killian immediately pulled down his logbook and flipped to the page containing the riddle. He hadn’t thought of it since the evening after the storm, fifteen years before. Right about the time Emma would have been born, he thought. But upon seeing her birthmark and introducing himself to David, it had never been far from his mind. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to recall most of the words, so as soon as the snow was melted sufficiently, he rushed to the Jolly to look at the journal again.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

When True Love’s Kiss doth unfold

Between soulmates unbound by time

The blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan

Their True Love will break the hold

And Dark magic will be no more.

Killian stared at the words before him, wrestling with them in his mind, trying to make sense out of them.

The Dark’s minion’s downfall is foretold

Foretold, that means prophecy. The Dark. The Darkness? The Darkness that makes him, makes me, what I am? The Dark’s minion? If the Darkness is what makes us, then Rumplestiltskin must be its minion. Downfall is foretold. He will fall when True Love’s Kiss occurs between soulmates, the blue eyed prince and his golden haired Swan. Me and Emma. Unbound by time. What does that mean? Killian shook his head. He hadn’t a clue. Their True Love will break the hold and Dark magic will be no more. That sounds like True Love’s Kiss between me and Emma will destroy the Darkness. Then Rumplestiltskin can be destroyed. A sinister smile broke across his face. At last our tales will again intertwine. Revenge will be mine.

He could feel the anger and hatred rising within him, nearly triggering a blood frenzy within him. There was no way he could return to the inn with the bloodlust this close to the surface. He closed his eyes and willed himself back under control. He needed to get word to his crew and get as far away from here as he could. If Emma was his True Love, and the two of them were needed to destroy the Darkness and Rumplestiltskin, he had to get as far away from Emma as possible if he wanted to keep her and her family safe. If Rumplestiltskin were to find out about her, find out about her family, he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy them. He had to keep her safe. Safe from him. And safe from him. He’d come back for brief visits in the future, until she was a little bit older and ready for him to court and marry her. A sudden certainty came over him that if he wanted to court her, if he wanted to be worthy of her, his days of slaughter on the high seas and persuasion and compulsion on his crew were at an end. He couldn’t continue to take their free will from them as his sire had taken his. Satisfied with his plans, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began penning a missive to Emma and her family.

~*~*~

Six months later

Killian made his way through the streets of London with an arm raised to his face, trying to block the putrid smell that came from the devastating effects of the Black Death that was ravaging the continent and had made its way to England’s shores. He could only hope and pray that Emma and her family had not suffered any loss due to the epidemic. The heat mingled with the stench of death made for a rancid bouquet that was causing his last meal to roll within him, wanting to revolt. He finally reached the inn and made his way inside. Getting out of the blazing heat of the sun overhead and the stink from the rampant disease was such a relief, that he wanted to weep. But before he could collapse, his eyes caught the gaze of his friend behind the counter. A gaze that held unspeakable despair and immense pain. Killian’s greeting and smile died on his lips before he could utter a word.

He knew his Swan’s family had not been spared.

Emma’s birthday had come and gone while he’d been at sea, and he now felt that the time was right to formally court her and make her his bride.

That hope for the future was shattered, however when David’s head slowly shook from side to side. He knew who Killian would be most anxious to see upon his arrival, but it was plain to see that he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. David came around the counter to embrace his friend. A wail of misery that came from the depths of his being threatened to consume him, but he clenched his jaw against it.

“When?” he gritted out.

“Nine days.” David’s voice broke on a whisper. Drawing away from him, Killian tried to curl himself into a ball as the wail continued to try and break free.

David reached around his shoulders and drew him upright again as he led him toward the back of the inn. Pushing through the door back into the heat, dizziness overtook him as he looked at the three graves just a few feet from the door.

“Granny went first. She died in April,” David choked out. “We thought that we’d been spared, since no one else came down with it right away.” Killian could feel the blood tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He kept his focus on the ground before him as David continued to speak. “Mary Margaret became ill seventeen days ago, and almost the same hour that I lost her, Emma was stricken. I couldn’t bear to leave my beautiful Mary Margaret to decay, so I dug her grave next to Granny. Granny was the only mother my Mary Margaret ever knew.”

Killian chanced a brief glance at the grieving man beside him. The anguish painted there, left his skin with a grey pallor.

“Did I ever tell you our story?” David pressed on, without waiting for his answer. “I came from a family of shepherds. My mother passed when my youngest sister was born. I was seven. Mary Margaret lived in the nearby village and had always been kind to me when I came into town. But the man she called Father, was the most despicable of men. He was a slave to drink. Never satisfied with the work she did to maintain their household, constantly harassing her, beating her for no reason. She had finally worked up the courage to leave his house when he collapsed with wracking coughs. He was dead within days. She was sixteen. For some reason, she came to me. I could never understand why. She said it was because I made her feel safe. That when he would beat her, she’d picture my face and she’d be able to endure it.” He paused, shaking his head. “But, why me? Wouldn’t anyone else have helped her? I didn’t do anything anybody else wouldn’t have done…” He shook himself from his rambling memories and continued their story. “After knowing each other most of our lives, it didn’t take us long to fall in love. When we couldn’t hide Mary Margaret’s pregnancy anymore, my father kicked us out. We came to London to try to find a better life and Granny took us in. Only three weeks before Emma was born. Granny delivered her. It seemed only fitting that they should all be together in death.”

David fell silent. Killian could no longer hold back his tears. He collapsed to the ground, desperate to hide his face and the blood pouring down his cheeks from his friend, gasping sobs breaking free. David stood beside him, silent tears coursing down his own cheeks, letting Killian’s grief find a safe outlet that wouldn’t be contained or interrupted. When the barking sobs subsided to quiet weeping, David patted his friend on the shoulder.

“I’ll go prepare your room. Stay out here as long as you need.” He turned toward the door and disappeared inside.

Finally alone, Killian raised his blood streaked face to look at the graves before him. His golden haired Swan was gone. The woman he loved, his soulmate, was gone. What am I going to do now?

#CSSNS20 #krystal writes #of darkness vampires and soulmates #ch2 #art by spartanguard

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bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

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Worth Chapter 3

(*DISCLAIMER: THIS CHAPTER USES VULGAR LANAGUE AS LILA IS A COMPLETE BITCH IN IT, I HATE HER AND SHE’S STUPID AND UGLY, WOW THIS DISCLAIMER TURNED INTO A RANT ABOUT HOW MUCH I HATE LILA)

Also yay! We finally are given the baddie of the plot, though it’s up to you to figure out who it is. Since I don’t want you to know who it is I’ll be referring to he/she as “you” (that’s a little trick I learned from Jennifer Lynn Barnes, my favorite author).

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Dark hair, blue eyes, and French. That was your MO. The skin tone didn’t matter, which is what had the GCPD so mixed up and frazzled. You laughed to yourself as you poured a glass of Chardonnay. There’d been a lull in your girls, mostly the French part. Last time was so...unsatisfactory. She was only a quarter French and she didn’t scream like the others. You disposed of her quickly, and even though she wasn’t what you had hoped you still took a lock of her hair and added it to your collection. You were missing the adrenaline, but you told yourself to be patient, a French class was coming soon. There’d definitely be someone there, maybe even international news. The justice league would probably thank you personally when they found out who the person behind the mask was who rid the world of its scum. You smiled to yourself, ‘I’d be famous worldwide and another French bitch would be out of the world for good.’

Kay wasn’t an early riser, neither was Marinette. That could only end disastrously, luckily, a certain Wayne family decided to call their friend’s daughter for a wake up call. Purely so she wouldn’t be late to their tour, although they did enjoy talking to her. Steph and Kay were very close friends, the closest out of the rest of the family, though Dick did enjoy Kay’s positive personality. Steph was extremely aggravated when she learned Kay was coming to Gotham because she was with Barbara and Cass for a girl’s week. Kay promised to make it up to her though.

So when Kay’s phone went off blasting “Candy Store” she immediately knew that the Wayne family was calling to wake her up. She smiled to herself as she turned off the alarm, it was nice to have people care.

“Oof what time is it?” Kay asked. “We woke you about an hour before you have to leave for the tour.” Said Dick. “Dope, thanks Dick! See ya soon!”

To be honest, Kay was afraid that she would sleep and nobody would wake her up, causing her and Marinette to miss the tour. She dug in her suitcase until she found her favorite shirt, it was the same color as her aqua blue eyes and it read, “Theatre is my sport” (side note I also own this shirt). She laughed at her friend who was still fast asleep, “Mari.” She said walking over to her friend and poking her.

Nothing.

“Mariiiii.” Kay said louder. “Marinette, Marinette, Marinette, MARINETTE!!!”

Still nothing.

“God I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this especially so early in the morning…” Kay cleared her throat and leaned down to Marinette’s ear, channeling her inner Christine Daaé she sang the highest note she could hit.

Marinette shot up, rubbing her pounding head. “The hell? Why do I have a ringing in my ears?” Kay shuffled away with a guilty smile, “I mean- somebody may have sang an E6 in your ear, but in all fairness you weren’t waking up!” Marinette groaned and shook her head. “Thanks for waking me up, even though the means weren’t…what I was expecting. I thought I was going to miss the Wayne Enterprises tour for sure.” Kay giggled, “Honestly me too. Sounds like some shit Lila would try to pull. I wouldn’t worry too much though, Dick would never let us miss the tour.” Kay winked as she walked into the hotel room’s bathroom.

“Dick? Wait isn’t that the American word for-“

“Yeah but it’s also a name. Short for Richard. Bruce Wayne, the Wayne Enterprises guy is his father. Well Bruce adopted him technically. The Waynes are the family my mom and I know from Gotham, Damian, the guy I’m totally setting you up with, is the youngest family member.” Kay exclaimed, the bathroom walls were thin but it was still slightly muffled. “Right that random guy you were shipping me with.” Marinette laughed. “You got it!

“I’m excited for you to meet them, I bet you’ll love the whole family and vice versa. Damian should be coming with Dick on the tour, Tim, one of the other brothers, is working there, so we probably won’t see him. The girls are away and Jason is probably- well Jason’s probably still sleeping.” Kay laughed as she walked out of the bathroom in her favorite shirt, baggy jeans, and dark brown hair in long curls.

“What about Bruce Wayne? Oh my god is he coming?! If he is I have to choose a whole new outfit! AHHH NOTHING I HAVE WOULD WORK!!” Marinette panicked as she tossed her clothes across the floor. “Relax Mari! Bruce won’t care if you’re dressed up or anything. We might not even see him!” Marinette slumped, “I still need to dress up a little though.” Kay giggled, “Ok sure. Whatever you say.”

Marinette ended up going with a red sundress and she wore Kaaliki’s glasses she was given from Master Fu, in case Ladybug needed to be in Paris. They transformed into black plastic glasses with a thin rim.

“Cool shades Mari, since when do you wear glasses though?” Asked Kay popping a piece of waffle into her mouth. “Oh these just accent the piece.” Kay laughed, “You’re such a fashion geek.” Marinette threw one of her blouses on the floor at her, “You’re such a theatre geek.” Kay fell onto the floor in dramatic agony, “You’ve wounded me to my very core, how will I ever survive? Unless they get the fright of their lives.” Marinette rolled her eyes as Kay got lost in her own world singing songs from Beetlejuice and eating her waffle. “Come on nerd, we don’t want to be late.” Marinette said as she extended an arm, Kay promptly took it and stood up once more. “I mean, if we’re late that’s one less minute we have to spend with Liar Rossi…”

“Just come on!” Marinette laughed. The girls walked down the hallway until they arrived to the main lobby where the French class was chatting. Alya walked over to them leaving Lila who was fuming that Alya would leave her for Marinette. “Hey girl, can’t believe you woke up early for once. Hey Kay.”

‘No way in Hell is Alya choosing the weird new girl over me!’ Lila screamed internally

Marinette chuckled, “Yep. Without Kay I definitely wouldn’t have though.”

Lila huffed.

“Thanks for keeping my girl straight Kay!” Alya said giving Kay a playful nudge on the shoulder.

‘Oh that is it!!!’ Lila watzled over to the trio of girls. “Hi girls! Oh Kay! Almost didn’t see you! I forgot to mention earlier, people in Gotham don’t really appreciate fags, so maybe turn down your, you know, lesbian urges and stuff.”

Shock. Was all Marinette felt, then she saw red. She vaguely comprehended Kay holding her back, “Oh yeah Lila? I forgot to mention earlier that people in Gotham don’t really appreciate lying bitches, so maybe tone down your psychopathic tendencies.”

“Kay totally uncalled for!” Alya barked. “Are you kidding Alya?! Didn’t you hear what Lila said?!” Marinette screamed. Lila started to blubber, “I’m- so- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your f-feelings!” She wailed overtop the commotion, adding to the cacophony and causing all eyes to be on them, ‘perfect’. “See, you made her cry! Girl, I can’t believe you’d do this! I always gave you the benefit of the doubt but Lila was right, you are a bully!” Marinette huffed and Kay suppressed screams while still fuming. Alya stormed off, and Lila swooped into the conversation once more. “Kay, do you have a crush on me, or something? Is that why you’re acting this way?!” Kay scoffed, “Please, I have standards. You were right about one thing though, I am gay, but being gay isn’t an insult so I’d take your bullshit elsewhere, because the only insult you doled out throughout this conversation was that I could ever have a crush on someone like you!” Kay pointed at Lila to emphasize her point and before the class could turn on her she took Marinette’s hand and they walked out the double doors of the hotel and waited outside for the bus to arrive.

“Are you okay?” Asked Marinette, placing a hand on Kay’s shoulder. “Yeah fine, I just wish people were more tolerant, and you know that wasn’t exactly my ideal way of coming out to you or the class, but sometimes my mouth just starts moving and I can’t get it to stop.” Kay sniffed, “What’s wrong with me Marinette?” Marinette pulled in her closest, now one of her only friends, in for a hug, “Nothing Kay. Lila is the problem, remember one time when you said she was a- oh what was it? Magic? No, mythic?”

“Mythic bitch. Though honestly Heather Chandler is a step up from that-that” and it all came flooding out. Kay started to cry, something she hadn’t let herself do in a long time. Marinette knew full well why too, any Parisian had to hide their feelings. “I hate her so much Marinette and him too.” Marinette knew which him she was referring to, the one who made them slaves to their own emotions, Hawkmoth. “I know Kay. I do too. Maybe Ladybug will get it right one day.” Marinette felt a drop in her stomach. ‘If I can’t protect the ones I love from Lila how can I defeat Hawkmoth? Maybe...maybe Chat was right.’ Kay looked up, tears still welling in her eyes she wiped them away, Ladybug gave her hope. She was able to muster strength and a smile, Ladybug gave Paris hope, “Come on Marinette, she’s doing the best she can. Ladybug has saved Paris more times than I can count, she’s an amazing hero. One day Hawkmoth will be out of our lives for good, and it’ll be her doing.” Marinette sighed and felt warmth from her friend’s words, at least someone believed in her.

“Miss Kay,” said a proper voice startling the two girls out of their shared moment. “Alfred!!!” Kay grinned, “How are you! It’s been so long! What are you doing here?!” The man, Alfred let out a chuckle, “You’re rambling again Miss Kay, but to answer your questions: I am doing well, and while it has been long Master Bruce has sent me here to pick you and any of your friends up to take you to the tour.”

Kay’s eyes brightened, “Dope!!! This is Marinette,” she said motioning towards the bluenette who smiled and waved kindly. “I think we’re ready to go.” Alfred cocked his head a little, “There is no one else you wish to wait for?” Marinette and Kay shuffled their feet awkwardly, ‘don’t you have any other friends?’ Is what he meant. “Nah, it’s all good Alfred.”

Alfred gave a smirk, although he felt disappointed that Kay only had one friend, she was so sweet, he expected her to be the life of the party. “Oh- by the way,” Alfred started as Kay reached for the limo door handle, “We picked up a guest on the way. I think you’ll be happy to see her.” Kay have an awkward smile and a confused look to Alfred, she opened the door only to see her girlfriend.

“CHLOÉ!!!!!” Squealed Kay, throwing her into a tight embrace. “Yes, yes I missed you too Lené.” She returned the hug pecking her girlfriend on the cheek and seeing somebody she didn’t think she’d ever see again. “Dupain-Cheng!”

“Queenie?!” Marinette asked with a look of recognition, she almost didn’t recognize her friend, after all it had been a year and in that amount of time Chloé put her hair in two braids and had dyed them brown.

“You two know each other?” Asked a confused Kay, as she released her girlfriend to look at Marinette. “Yep. Dupain-Cheng was the only tolerable one in my old class.” Chloé gave her girlfriend a soft smile. Kay thrust Marinette into a hug, “You were the Girl Who Didn’t Believe Lila’s Bullshit! I should’ve known! Thank you for being there for my girlfriend!” Marinette blushed, “It’s not a problem. Chloé was there for me more times than I can count.”

Chloé rolled her eyes while giving a gentle smile, “That class is utterly ridiculous, you weren’t. Of course I was going to be there for you.” Kay wrapped both of them in a tight hug, Chloé still in her seatbelt, “Ahhh my two favorite girls in one place!” Chloé let out a chuckle and gave her girlfriend a pat on the shoulder. “Mmk Lené.”

“Wait Chlo, why are you calling her Lené?” Marinette asked. Kay reddened before burying her hands in her face. “Don’t you dare tell her!” Alfred let out a chuckle before driving off to Wayne Enterprises. “Miss Kay’s real name is Kaylené Khan. She’s embarrassed of it for some reason, a fact that Miss Chloé likes to tease her about.” Kay facepalmed, “Alfred!!!”

“You shouldn’t hide your name Lené. It’s beautiful.” Chloé said twisting her girlfriend’s dark brown hair. “I agree, though Kay is a pretty nickname.” Marinette said giving her friend a playful shove. “Yeah whatever. Let’s go meet your new boyfriend Damian!” Kay teased, “He’s going to be at Wayne Enterprises, isn’t he Alfred?” Alfred kept his eyes on the road while he responded, “Yes Miss Kay, but I have to say I don’t know what you’re talking about in regards to Miss Marinette and Master Damian.”

“Yeah Lené what am I missing?” Chloé demanded before looking out the side window of the limo.

“I’ve made the match of the century Chlo! Damian and Marientte would be the perfect couple!” Chloé scoffed, “No way you can get Ice Prince a girlfriend, though if it was anyone it would be Mari.” Kay smiled, feeling triumphant, “See Marinette it’s meant to be.” Marinette chuckled, “I haven’t even met the guy Kay!”

Kay started to swoon in her seat, “Oh my gosh, I’m going to witness love at first sight!”

Tag list (lemme know if you’d like to be added or I missed you, ps 54 tags?! Omg. Fricking Tumblr said I can’t do more than 50, so those of you on my list will be in the comments ASAP):

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@tog84

@thequestionablyhuman

@thyladyanput

@vixen-uchiha

@novicevoice

@2sunchild2

@zebrabaker

@chrismarium

@mycupisbroken

@winter-gardenflower

@dast218

@bluerosette23

@chocolatecatstheron

@anjuschiffer

@fertileleaf

@drarryismylife101

@zerotosiki

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@krispydefendorpolice

@octoberscorn

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@clumsy-owl-4178

@queenmj10

@shreky-boi

@magic-miraculous

@gingerdaile

@mooshoon

@ladylb

@eve-is-the-dawn

@bee-wrecker

@fiendsangelical

@captainmac6

@7-sage-7

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@st0rmy-w1th1n

@fatimaabbasrizvi

@mindfulmagics

@fics-by-maria

@miraculous-simmer7

@kuroko26

@severelyenchantedwonderland

@shewhoridesonrainbows

@shizukiryuu

@melicmusicmagic

159 notes · View notes

borisbubbles · 4 years

Text

25. PORTUGAL

Elisa - “Medo de sentir”

youtube

We’ve finally crossed over into the “I like this” territory :-) Let’s celebrate by booting another ballad ^_^

Song Analysis

This will be short and sweet though, since there isn’t much to say. “Medo de sentir” basically the Marie Myriam of its national final: It is a cromulent ballad that did nothing wrong and is solidly good, but not great in all the relevant areas (vocals, composition, staging).

I mean,

Even so, Elisa gave me a few small nuggets that warmed me to her, serving DRAMAFACE in the FdC Semi

and LOOKS in the Finale:

Peach puffy sleeves that rival Leonor Andrade’s legendary shoulder pads as a fashion statement <3 (honestly, this is pretty subdued for FdC fashion even? Hold on until I get talk about Felipe in the NF Corner)

Honestly, you may wonder why I like this more than “Répondez-moi”, but I don’t really have a reason - unless you’re willing to accept “Medo de sentir is underrated, is performed by a Weird Indie Girl and is from a criminally overlooked Eurovision country” as valid argumentations. Oh and while I only *very* mildly like Elisa, it is a decision I made myself, completely free of the social pressure I feel whenever Gjon, or heaven forbid, Roxen or Diodato, pop up.

Furthermore, the fact that I still like Elisa even after she won her NF also speaks greatly in her favour. I’m not sure if you were aware of how good FdC was this year? Well, sit down because you are about to witness it!

NF Corner

Remember how old Eesti Laul’s neck was snapped and its corpse was urinated on by the shit Estonians? Remember how the quirky indie weirdo entries had to find a safe haven elsewhere in Europe? The Portugese hallmark traits of “Not Giving A Fuck”, “Doing Our Own Thing No Matter What” and “What Do You Mean This Isn’t A Vimeo Showreel?” allowed for Festival da Canção to absorb Eesti Laul’s broken spirit and channel it from every (Ley-La-)Ley-Line.

and since this is the first *GREAT* 2020 NF I am covering, I will do HONORABLE MENTIONS before I actually review my four choices :o

Dubio - “Ceguiera”: Hamburglar-looking goddess <3333

MEERA - “Copo de gin”: Pure EL-style EDM *and* it’s about drinking gin, needless to say this song is basically *my anthem*. Jimmy P - “Abensonhado”: Rap rarely is my thing, let alone three minutes of it non-stop. Having said that, this is genuine and dramatic and Jimmy is flanked by a GOSPEL CHOIR (dressed in chasubles!!!) who support him in ENGLISH... I am not made of stone. JJaZZ - “Agora”: Totally slept on this weird indie anthem, but then they showed up looking like this:

and yes, it was even funnier in motion (sadly gif’ing rights are reserved to the Elite 4 soz) Elisa Rodrigues - “Não voltes mais”: a jolly tropical ballad in a genre I recognize but cannot name (some sort of pimba fado jazz? Does this work?) and was incomprehensibly hated by the Portuguese? Will I ever understand how this country operates? Probably never. Kady - “Diz so”: another pimba fado jazz sort of thing? My friend André (who is from Brazil) tells me it’s actively parodying Brazillian counterculture and leftist stereotypes which is such a random quirk to put in a Portuguese music comp <3

And before we move on, I’ll chuck in a very speclal DISHONORABLE mention for our good friends Blasted Mechanism.😈 I actually forgot to do my jury duties for ESCUnited here, so I’ll just let James (the person with the best taste on our team, including yours truly) do it for me:

Fucking *TRUTH*. “Rebellion’”s problem has always been a lack of motherfucking balls. Sure, these middle-aged steampunkers attempt to implement a genre shift between indie rock and fucking ORCHESTRAL METAL/HIP HOP and make it so underwhelming and pathetic? People blame the live, and yes it was *bad* (forever cackling at “REBELGIUM” tho), but it was the studio that failed to deliver on the promises it made. It always surprises me when people (Sean and Roy I AM coming for you) slam "Verona” for being a “fanwank” and then fall for a Rebellion which is basically a fanwank for heterosexual snobs. #ShotsFired.

Now, as for the actual Boris faves, LET US START WITH A LIBERAL DOSE OF ASKEW CUBISM

Judas - “Cubismo Enviesado”

youtube

VÊS OU NÃO? VÊS OU NÃO? VÊS OU NÃO? VÊS OU NÃO? VÊS OU NÃO?

WHAT A FUCKING SPANDEX CATASTROPHE. “Cubismo enviesado” is a horrible song, the choreography looks like it had been conjured up during a particularly drunk night of bedroom karaoke and Judas can’t hold a tune for the life of him. The lyrics don’t even make sense in Portuguese <33333 It is an art school project gone disastrously wrong. NEEDLESS TO SAY, I AM OBSESSED.😍

Filipe Sambado - “Gerbera Amarelo do Sul”

youtube

That look

The regal panache

Those... leather shorts?

IT IS SO QUEER I LOVES IT. As with Cubismo, I am fucking OBSESSED. However, unlike Cubismo, “Gerbera amarela do sul” is *legitimately* great, lol. In addition to having a KICK-ASS fado rhythm and the off-the-charts visual components (the jewellery! the hats! the throne! the hand choreography!), the lyrics are highly intelligent poetry geared at dismantling upper class snobism.😍 Rare to find an entry that kicks ass on SO MANY levels. Even harder to see it lose to Elisa Myriam - but I’m not sad it lost because, you know, it would have befallen the same fate as a “Telemóveis”. At least his existence makes the memory-holing of Achille Lauro’s ICONIC Virgin Queen Cosplay so much easier to stomach.

Throes & The Shine - “Movimiento”

youtube

I mean, entries that open like THIS:

are instantly iconic, ngl. The best FdC entries offer a great triple of great looks, unplugged stubborn artistry and fun quirky rhythmes. Throes + The Shine pass this with flying colours and I mean, THOSE sunglasses alone yank up the laugh-out-laugh factor to astronomical levels. add in a hilarious choreography, sound effects that seemingly imitate duck mating noises and three very attractive men (in 2020! the concept!) and it’s an instant fave right there.

AND THEN MADE THEIR ENTRY EVEN BETTER BY ADDING MIDNIGHT GOLD/JOWST EFFECTS TO THEIR STAGING. 😍😍😍😍

MANCHAS DE LAMA NA SUA PELE

HEROES. 😍😍😍

and of course, this wouldn’t be a 2020 NF without an obvious runaway fave losing at the last minute:

Bárbara Tinoco - “Passe-partout”

youtube

SHE IS TINY <3333:

She’s like a human bonsai... or a personal attack chincilla.

Okay, so Portugal were *THIS close* to out-France’ing the French with this sassy Zazballad, served with a generous dollop of parisian accordion and stank reaction shots.

Yet another entry that shamelessly uses an attractive man as a boytoy prop <333 For a brief moment, Bàrbara and Tiago establish themselves as a pair of lovestruck La La Land idiots, gearing themselves towards the EPIC moment where she will dump him... and then this happens before the first chorus:

Barbara opens up a can of dancer carbs and it completely fucks up her no-bullshit keto diet.

Those dancers man. They aren’t a *bad* addition in itself, but if your thing is “romance ballad but *plot twist* it’s actually an end of romance ballad get lost loser” do not burn the clou within the first minute of the performance to a group of dancers who don’t even dance *along with the beat of your song*. UGH.

(and also, more devastatingly, the reduce tiaGOD’s airtime how dare they grrr)

Fortunately though, I have learned to appreciate the wrecktitude of it all because it caused one of the funniest downfall narratives in recent ESC history. The Portuguese were, of course, foaming at the mouth with all the decisions Bárbara had made (not even for the points I raised, necessarily?) and Bárbara was having none of it. It went kinda like this

Juries: EWWW DANCERS AND CHOREOGRAPHY YOU ARE RAPING YOUR OWN SONG YOU PHILISTINE WHORE. Bárbara:

Juries: WOW WHAT *ARROGANCE*!! YOU THINK YOU CAN WIN BUT BOY DO WE HAVE NEWS FOR YOU :-)

and lo hand behold, the finale rolls on and Tinoco’s dancers are still there, and are even *MORE* present than they were in the semi (but also in sync with the beat) and Bárbara gets promptly jurydunked into third place. 😍 Even though she has the *ONLY* song in FdC that could have qualified in its semifinal. 😍 A woman who stands three apples tall trolling an entire nation and juries because she knew she had gold in her hands and then getting rigged out of the easiest nf victory out of pure SPITE 😍 WHAT AN ARC. 😍

Portugal 2020 vs Portugal 2021

Elisa probably would not have qualified. I’m not sure how popular of an opinion this is, but I prefer the semifinal performance of “Medo de sentir” and that wasn’t the staging they were going for. Not many people seemed to care either way, and that’s usually the death sentence for Portugal.

Elisa won’t be back for 2021 or whenever Eurovision is rebooted. :sigh: Fuck you, Coronavirus.

Freaky! Friday! Factor!

See: NF Corner:

Score: 4 Senhits out of 5.

#Eurovision 2020 #Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Portugal #Elisa #Medo de sentir

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the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt · 7 years

Text

Rum and Cupcakes (Chapter 2)

I’m feeling extra generous since it’s Valentine’s Day, so here’s chapter 2! Lots more to come! I hope you love it, @a-city-dove !

Chapter 1: http://the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt.tumblr.com/post/157246086069/rum-and-cupcakes-chapter-1

Read it on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708698/chapters/21925364

Emma sat back as she watched her customers enjoy her cupcakes. It was the busiest day she’d had in awhile. She sent Mary Margaret a quick text thanking her for forcing her out last night, followed by another in which she apologized for embarrassing herself and anyone who knew her with what Emma called “the Killian situation.” Emma was so pleased with herself, she even attached a picture of her cupcakes to prove to Mary Margaret that she was doing better; her frosting was multi-colored and looking the best it’s looked all week. Emma ate a French toast cupcake and some microwaved pasta for lunch before making some more cupcakes for the afternoon rush. She decided she’d to get carry out from Granny’s for dinner because she was sick of eating half-warmed microwave dinners. She was finally starting to get used to Ruby’s absence, and she figured she could go back to being alone again. She just needed to find the happy medium between alone but dependent, and complete social hibernation. Ruby had texted her 26 times by the time she closed the shop for the day, so she grabbed a grilled cheese and onion rings to-go from Granny’s and called Ruby as she ate her dinner, actually at her table rather than the couch. She found herself smiling and laughing as Ruby filled Emma in on the hot movie director who gave her a job making costumes for his movie.

“You should see him, Em, he’s so hot. He’s got this sandy brown hair and bright green eyes. And his abs- Oh. My. Gosh.”

“Has he given into your Ruby charm yet?” Emma knew Ruby had probably been flirting her pretty ass off. Most guys drooled over Ruby at first sight.

“No.” Emma could hear the disbelief in Ruby’s response, but Emma knew Ruby wasn’t used to being rejected. “I’m about ready to pounce. You know, like a wolf.” Ruby growled and laughed as Emma opened her mouth to warn Ruby,

“Oh no. Don’t pounce, Rubes. Nothing good can come from that.” Emma thought back to Killian the previous night, actually physically cringing at the memory. She debated whether or not to tell her best friend.

“I don’t think I can flirt any harder.”

“Well if he hasn’t given in yet, maybe you should give it up and look for a new conquest.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.” Emma rolled her eyes even though she knew Ruby couldn’t see her. “You know I won’t give up. I’ll get him.”

“Just” - Emma sighed; she had been defeated - “be careful, okay?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Ruby, I’m serious. You don’t want to get your hopes up if he’s only going to disappoint you in the end.” She felt the impact of her words as she thought of how much of a joke she must have looked like to Killian. Not wanting Ruby to pry, she added, “Plus, he’s your boss.”

“So you’re saying I can pounce on him once the movie’s done?” Emma could practically see Ruby’s bedroom eyes through the phone.

“If you haven’t found someone else by then, I guess.” She chewed on her bottom lip and twirled an onion ring on her finger, wishing the conversation would end. The memory of Killian weighed heavily in her mind, and she knew it was just a matter of time before she blurted it out to Ruby.

“So.” Emma was snapped out of her own thoughts. “How’s your across the street neighbor?”

“Actually, no one’s moved in yet.” Emma took a bite of her sandwich.

“Really? I know someone bought the space.”

“Still empty. I checked earlier today.” Emma distinctly remembered noting that the building was as empty as it had been the past week. “Do you know the name of who bought the space?”

“Nah. Regina wouldn’t tell me. She’s always hated me.”

“That’s not true.” It was true.

“Em.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe a little. What did you ever do to her?” Emma gathered her dinner trash and threw it away, cradling the phone between her cheek and her shoulder.

“Nothing. I’ve always been a perfect, law-abiding citizen.” Both girls laughed, but not because it was an untrue statement. Ruby had always been perfectly respectable when she needed to be. “Anyway, how have you been? Mary Margaret texted me that your cupcakes were mourning my loss.”

“She did not.”

“Well, maybe not in those exact words, but she told me you wouldn’t answer any of her calls. Or David’s. She was worried about you.” Crap. She could feel the memory of last night threatening to leave her mouth.

“I’m okay. I just needed a few days to get used to you not being around,” Emma relocated to her couch, lying down horizontally so her feet dangled over the end of it.

“You sure you’re okay, Em? I know you.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I even went out with Mary Margaret last night.” There it was.

“Where’d you go?”

“The Rabbit Hole.” Oh, what she wouldn’t give for more of that rum right at this moment.

“Did you guys have fun? You’re not replacing me in girl’s night, right?” Her words were laced with threats.

“I could never replace you, Rubes. You’re still my best friend, even if you’re on the other side of the country.” The sadness returned as Emma uttered those words. She acknowledged the distance aloud, making it sink in and reminding her of how harsh reality is.

“So, did you have fun?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Emma shrugged, not that Ruby could see.

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “What happened?” Damn.

“I uh… I sorta uh…” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot as she tried to find the words to tell Ruby what happened without making her look like a total idiot.

“Em, did you sleep with someone last night?” Ruby spoke slowly, trying to hide the anticipation in her voice.

“Not exactly,” Emma coughed.

“What does that mean?” Ruby was uncharacteristically silent, forcing Emma to tell her.

“There was a new guy. And he was really hot. He sat next to me and he flirted with me, I think he did anyway. Well, I really wanted to sleep with him, you know, a one night stand and all, emotionless sex. But he rejected me when I came onto him and yeah. Oh, and I was kinda drunk, so I was all over him, which made things worse when he told me no.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut and hoped Ruby wouldn’t press the issue.

“I need details. Play-by-play. Go.” Emma groaned, but started her story anyway.

“Well Mary Margaret and I were at the bar. And I had a few glasses of rum-”

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many?”

“Is that relevant?”

“Yes. I know levels of Emma drunkenness. And I also know you’re rolling your eyes right now. So, how many?” Emma honestly didn’t know, but the conversation paused as she did the calculation in her head.

“Probably eight or so by the time he walked in.”

“Eight?!” Emma pulled the phone from her ear in response to Ruby’s screeching.

“You know Jefferson only fills the glass a quarter of the way! So it was really only two full glasses!” Emma started to defend herself, but Ruby wasn’t having any of it.

“Emma, that is way too many. I can’t believe Mary Margaret didn’t stop you. This is why you need me around.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Continue.”

“Well, he sat next to me and he also ordered rum. He mentioned that he likes girls who like rum. Oh, wait, he used the word ‘lass.’ Who even talks like that? Oh, and he also had a British accent.”

“Ooh, a British guy. I’ve taught you well.”

“Yes, you have. Anyway, he told me his name, Killian-”

“Nice name. That’s a hot guy’s name for sure.”

“I am never going to get through this story if you keep interrupting,” Emma laughed.

“Sorry. Please finish.”

“Alright, well, I told him my first name and he started asking me for information, but I cut him off and told him the less we know about each other, the better. And he made this comment like he’d really get to know me. Mary Margaret tried to get me to leave because she could see me being an idiot, but I told her no so she went to talk to Regina while I made more of a fool of myself. Then he called me beautiful, so I tried to make myself more uhh… alluring. I was wearing that pink dress you got me for girl’s night Valentine’s Day last year.”

“I’m interrupting to tell you how hot you look in that dress. Seriously, you look smokin’ Emma. I can’t believe any man could say no to you in that thing.” Emma grinned. She’d excuse this interruption. Emma thought she looked good in that dress too; maybe Killian was the weird one.

“Thank you,” Emma giggled. “I sorta leaned real close to him and whispered in his ear seductively asking if he wanted to get out of there, and he said yes, but he didn’t want to take advantage of me in my state.”

“Gentleman.” Ruby sounded impressed.

“It gets worse.”

“What did you do?”

“I couldn’t believe he said no, so I stared at him because I didn’t have a response. He had to pry me off of him. He was wearing a shirt that was only buttoned at the bottom and well, I was stroking his chest hair.”

“Emma you weren’t.” Ruby was trying really hard not to laugh, and Emma could hear it.

“I was. And if that wasn’t mortifying enough, he pried me off him and paid for his drinks and mine. He paid for me, even though I basically groped him, knowing nothing more than his name. Mary Margaret took me home after he left. Ruby, I am so embarrassed. I just hope I never see this Killian Jones ever again.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” Emma heard Ruby laughing on her end of the call, and she couldn’t help but break down into chuckles herself. She was a moron. “I almost feel like I should apologize for coming onto him like that, but that would involve me facing him and that is never going to happen.”

“I can’t believe you did that. Clearly you need me in your life.”

“Shut up.”

“I feel better about my director now. Thanks, Emma.”

“Shut up, again.”

“Alright, alright. Thanks for the story. The cast is headed to go get dinner, so I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon?”

“Absolutely. Have fun.” Emma was a bit relieved; she needed to get to sleep so she could function at work tomorrow.

“You know I will.” There was no doubt in Emma’s mind this statement was accompanied by a double eyebrow wiggle. “Love you, Em. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye, Ruby.” Emma hung up the phone before Ruby could say her own goodbye. Telling her story had been horrifying, but she was so glad to be talking to Ruby again. Emma plugged her phone in to charge overnight before curling up with her duckling pillow and falling asleep.

Emma continued her routine for another week. She went from her apartment, to work, to Granny’s, then to her apartment again. She texted Ruby or Mary Margaret or David, but only when they texted her first. Routines worked for her; she was productive. Her frosting didn’t turn depressing at all that week. Her routine was interrupted when she looked out the window as she was opening the curtains at the front of her store to find that whoever owned the building across the street was finally starting to move in. Rather than the dark, empty building, Emma was greeted by a moving truck and a pile of boxes right inside her neighbor’s shop. She thought it could be nice to have someone new in the neighborhood. She decided she’d come over after she closed up to welcome her new neighbor and help unpack if there were still sealed boxes; she couldn’t help but think Mary Margaret would be proud. She kept peeking outside throughout the day, hoping to see the shop’s new inhabitant, but the moving truck eventually disappeared without her getting so much as a glimpse of the shop owner. Emma checked the clock for the hundredth time that day and decided it was time to start a small batch of cupcakes to bring across the street. She made some hot chocolate flavored cupcakes with marshmallow frosting; she didn’t know what flavors the new person liked yet, and who doesn’t like hot cocoa? She cleaned the shop while the cupcakes were in the oven, timing her clean-up perfectly. She paused her sweeping and scrubbing to remove her cupcakes from the oven and let them cool before she frosted them. She put the last chair up onto its table right when her oven timer went off, letting her know the cupcakes were cool enough to frost without danger of melting the frosting. Emma carefully applied frosting to the tops of her cupcakes, wanting to make a good first impression with the person she’d be working across from indefinitely. She put her jacket on after she boxed the cupcakes and grabbed a marker to scrawl out a quick Welcome to the neighborhood! -Emma before running across the street and knocking on the shop door. She stood outside with a welcoming smile on her face, waiting for whoever was in the shop to answer. She saw a man approach the door dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Hello there. Can I help you?” Another man with blue eyes and an accent. What are the odds?

“Hi! I own the cupcake shop across the street” She held out the box of cupcakes. The man smiled as he read her note at the top of the box.

“Sweet of you, but the shop’s not actually mine.” Emma cocked her head, slightly confused. “I’m just helping unload the truck.” The man turned to face the back of the store and yelled, “Killian! There’s a lass at the door for you!” Really, “lass” again?

“Wait, Killian?” She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was a different Killian? Or not. Killian isn’t exactly a common name. Still, she thought she’d confirm before she ran away, taking the cupcakes with her. “Killian Jones?” The man pivoted to face her.

“Yeah. Have you two met?” This guy was clearly friends with Killian; did he really not know what happened that night in the bar? Was it possible Killian didn’t tell him? Regardless of what Killian’s friend knew, she was desperate to escape the situation.

“Look, I…I have to go. I’ll, well just give him these for me.” She thrust the box toward him and turned around to run, but she froze when she heard unmistakable chuckling. Crap.

“Leaving so soon?” She turned and ended up face to face with the man she basically jumped. “Hello, love.”

“I’m not your love” He held his hands up to convey his innocence.

“Apologies, lass.” He extended a hand, “Killian Jones. Nice to meet you.”

“Emma.” Her eyes flickered between the two men.

“This is my mate, Robin. He was just helping me move in, but he has a date with the mayor he should probably be getting to if he wants a job.” The other man - Robin, apparently - nodded and waved to Killian as he slipped out the door and disappeared behind Emma.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course not.” She had no response. Why didn’t he tell his friend about the drunk chick who tried to take him home? Clearly the surprise showed on her face, as he felt the need to explain further. “You were drunk. You must have had a rough day or something that drove you to it. I figured you’d be embarrassed enough when you came to. Why would I make it worse?” Dammit. He was still just as charming when she was sober as he was when she was drunk. She was at a loss for where to go from here, but she was determined to make a better impression this time.

“Emma Swan.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Swan,” he repeated. She had to admit it sounded good coming from his mouth. She had to shake herself out of it; last time she saw him, she tried to get him to sleep with her. She came on way too hard and made a total fool of herself, and he had rejected her. He couldn’t let him win.

“I own the cupcake shop across the street.”

“Ah. The sweet scents were coming from your shop.” He popped the “p” sound at the end of his sentence. She couldn’t let him charm the anger out of her.

“I came to ask if you needed any help moving in, but turns out you already had that.” He nodded, but didn’t speak, clearly waiting on her to decide what direction to take this interaction. “Look, I built a successful business. I have regular customers. Just don’t mess with my business, got it?”

“Aye.”

“Alright then.” She moved to leave when she remembered the cupcakes. “Oh, these are for you. Welcome to the neighborhood, I guess.”

“Thanks, Swan.” He smiled as he looked inside.

“It’s Emma.” She crossed her arms.

“I like Swan,” he said, shrugging. She stared at him.

“What kind of shop are you opening anyway?”

“A bookstore. ‘The Jolly Roger.’” He swiped a finger across one of the cupcakes, licking the frosting off the digit.

“Jolly Roger? Like Captain Hook’s pirate ship?” She tried to look anywhere but at his mouth tight around his finger.

“Indeed.” He smirked as he removed his finger from his mouth to speak. “That was delicious. Is that” - he licked his lips - “marshmallow? Mmm.” She ignored the compliment.

“You know he’s the bad guy, right?”

“Clearly you haven’t read the book.”

“Well no, but-”

“Pan is the real villain. I’d explain, but I would hate to spoil the book for you; it would be bad form. Stop by when I open. I’ll give you a copy, free of charge.” Emma rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away.

“Just don’t mess with my shop.” She started moving toward her car. He called after her,

“See you soon, Swan!” She could practically hear him smiling.

“Later, Jones.” If she never saw Killian Jones again it would be too soon. Too bad she’d see him every day when she went to work. She was going to need a lot of alcohol to get through seeing him every day. Then again, maybe she should stay away from alcohol when it came to Killian Jones.

“Bye, August!” Emma yelled after the man who was walking back to his truck after helping her with one of her regular ingredient deliveries. He helped her carry in industrial-sized bags of sugars and flours, and he wheeled the insane amount of egg cartons into the shop so she could refrigerate them as soon as possible. She grabbed the last four bags of flour, and August only left when she convinced him she could manage them into the shop on her own. The stack went up to her forehead and altogether probably weighed more than she did, but she was determined to handle the bags herself. She waited for the truck to pull away, shifting the bags slightly to relieve some of the pain starting in her wrists, before turning to make her way inside. She started walking toward her shop, stopping every few feet to adjust her grip on the bags. She moved forward, slowly but surely, until suddenly she toppled to the ground, crashing with a thud, a loud groan, and a very large puff of flour. “Seriously?” She opened her eyes to find she was standing in the middle of a cloud of flour that was taking its sweet time to settle. She inhaled, the flour in the air entering her nose and mouth. She coughed, moving backward to escape the flour dust. She caught her breath so she could assess the situation. She wasn’t even sure what happened. One moment she was walking, and then, she thought she hit something before she fell. She waved her hand around, trying to thin the flour cloud as she went to assess the damage. She’d have to order more flour to replace these bags soon. She heard someone else coughing and her eyes widened; she hoped she didn’t hurt anyone. She made her way through the mess to find none other than Killian Jones on the ground, books littering the street around him. Emma’s anger at Killian returned the second she saw him. “You!” Killian’s head jerked upward. “You ran into me!”

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I was carrying books into the shop and I couldn’t see over them.” He cleared his throat and looked up at her, blue eyes sincere. She shook her head, ignoring the apology.

“You couldn’t look around them?” His jaw dropped; she was actually blaming him.

“What about you? You couldn’t look around your little ingredients? You ran into me too!” Her jaw dropped this time.

“You’re kidding, right? Those bags of flour weighed more than me.”

“And carrying a stack of 14 books is easy?!” He scanned the ground to take in the state of his books.

“Your books can be cleaned. I lost all these bags of flour.”

“These books were from my own personal collection! That’s why they weren’t included in the boxes of my merchandise.” He looked genuinely sad, jaw clenching as he clutched the book closest to him.

“This is going to cost me so much to replace. You better pay for the new flour I have to order.” She crossed her arms.

“There were first editions!” He crawled around, gathering a few of his books and trying to wipe the flour from the cover with his hand. He muttered a soft “bloody hell” as he shook the pages out, watching flour drop to the ground. “These are irreplaceable!”

“Not my problem.” She made no move to help him.

“Then your flour is not my problem.” His jaw was clenched. She knew she couldn’t win; if she made him pay for the flour, he’d make her pay for the books. She gritted her teeth.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He looked up at her with eyes not containing anger, but sadness. She frowned and leaned down to grab the bags to get them inside. She gathered what she could of the mostly-emptied bags and left him on the ground as she stormed off. It appeared she was making a habit of stomping away from Killian. After she threw out the bad flour and cleaned herself up, she peeked out the window and found Killian sitting on the steps in front of his shop. He had a large stack of books next to him as he meticulously worked a tissue over the cover of the book in his lap. She bit her lower lip, feeling only slightly guilty. He was right; she had also run into him. Still, this was going to cost her. She didn’t budget extra money for flour replacement, so she shifted her focus from the sad sight of Killian to her own issues, calling to order more flour.

She looked outside again a few hours later. Killian had cleaned as much as he could. At least the books were readable now. He had piled all the books into a stack and bent down to grab them all. When Emma looked outside, she saw Killian with a very tall stack of books in his arms. She chewed her thumbnail as she watched him put the stack down, open the door, and pick it up again to walk inside. The books ended above his head when he picked them up; that must have been how he carried them when he ran into her earlier. When she ran into him? Okay, when they ran into each other. She turned away after she watched him kick the door closed behind him. She had officially lost all hope of getting along with her new across-the-street shop neighbor.

#captain swan secret valentine #cssv #cssv 2017 #a-city-dove #rum and cupcakes #chapter 2

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Interview: ‘The Brink’ Goes Behind the Scenes with Trump Mastermind Steve Bannon

When Steve Bannon left his position as White House chief strategist less than a week after the Charlottesville “Unite the Right” rally in August 2017, he was already a notorious figure in Trump’s inner circle, responsible for bringing a far-right ideology into the highest echelons of American politics. Unconstrained by an official post — though some say he still has a direct line to the White House — he became free to peddle influence as a perceived kingmaker, turning his controversial brand of nationalism into a global movement. Alison Klayman’s The Brink follows Bannon through the 2018 mid-term elections in the United States, shedding light on his efforts to mobilize and unify far-right parties in order to win seats in the May 2019 European Parliamentary elections. To maintain his power and influence, the former Goldman Sachs banker and media investor reinvents himself — as he has many times before — this time as the self-appointed leader of a global populist movement. Keen manipulator of the press and gifted self-promoter, Bannon continues to draw headlines and protests wherever he goes, feeding the powerful myth on which his survival relies.

I loved Alison Klayman’s award-winning 2012 documentary Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, and it’s hard to imagine two more contrasting subjects than beloved Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei and extreme rightwing strategist Steve Bannon. I was very curious to sit down with director Alison Klayman and producer Marie Therese Guirgis to talk about this riveting and personal look at the man who some say is largely responsible for Donald Trump’s surprise 2016 victory.

Danny Miller: I was absolutely fascinated by this film. Marie Therese, I know you once worked with Steve Bannon when he was in the movie business, but I’m still shocked that he agreed to do the film. On the other hand, with his massive ego, I can imagine that he loved all the attention. Was it a long process to get him to agree to be the subject of this documentary?

Marie Therese Guirgis: Not really. I mean, the reconnection of our relationship took a while, but I certainly didn’t reconnect with him with the idea of asking him to be in a documentary. I did it because I knew him and I was so angry and sad about his role in the Trump campaign and presidency. Later, when the idea for the documentary came up, he said no four times. His very first comment was “No, you’ll destroy me!” since I had just spent months telling him how angry and disgusted I was. But in the end, he agreed to do it.

Was he still in the White House at that point?

Yes. I think it was April when he finally decided he’d participate in the film, and he was there until August.

Wow, do you think the film could have happened in the same way if he was still part of the Trump administration?

Well, normally I would say absolutely not, but now that we know more about the chaos that was happening there back then and how much time Michael Wolff, who wrote Fire and Fury, was able to spend in the White House, I think it might have been possible.

As appalled as I am by his actions, I do find him a much more interesting character than Donald Trump. In many ways he’s worse than Trump because he’s not an idiot and he knows how to make things happen, but I also found his self-awareness kind of refreshing, even his ability to admire an interviewer who had asked him really tough questions instead of vilifying her as Trump would have done. Is that how he felt with you, Alison? Did he respect what you were doing even if knew you didn’t share any of his beliefs?

Alison Klayman: For the most part, I did feel like he respected me, but on the other hand, I don’t think he was thinking about me all that much, which is what I preferred. I don’t think he knew that much about me, to be honest, although he claimed to have watched my film about Ai Weiwei. But throughout the process, I felt like he treated me like a respectable filmmaker.

Marie Therese Guirgis: When I first talked to him, I mentioned a bunch of different directors but said that Alison was the person I’d really like to use. He was like, “Whatever you say, if you think she’s the right person.” So, I don’t think he really vetted her very much but I know that his team looked into her.

Did he set any ground rules for filming at the outset?

No. My whole pitch to him was that he would have zero control. Alison would have total creative control, even I wouldn’t have any say in the final cut.

Alison Klayman: I never would have agreed to make the film if he had any ground rules.

Although he did seemingly order you out of the room a few times.

I feel like my job is to always be pushing to get more access and it was important to me in the film to make sure I showed times where I was told to leave. In truth, that didn’t happen all that often, and it was never very dramatic, you know, like a soldier coming up and knocking my camera down which happens to some filmmakers. He’d always phrase it like, “Did you get everything you need?”

Yeah, he seemed very skilled and friendly in the way he did it, but I always thought in those moments, “Ah, now they’re really going to get into it!” I was especially surprised at all of the meetings you filmed between Bannon and those right-wing leaders from around the world. Did you have to get all of them to sign releases?

Yes. And the fact that they all did was very satisfying to me!

Do you think he presented you in a way that made you more appealing to them?

I think the fact that he was so comfortable with me probably conveyed something. There was never any misrepresentation, like that we were part of Breitbart or something, and no one asked me any questions like some kind of political litmus test. I think in some films you might have more of a relationship with the person you’re filming and put in time with them away from the camera, too, but that didn’t really happen here. And that was partly because of the way I felt about him and his agenda.

Marie Therese Guirgis: But remember, too, that Steve Bannon is not the type of person to just sit around and shoot the shit with someone and talk about what movies he’s seen. He just doesn’t do that.

And yet he does seem very image conscious. There were those few times in the film when he got very angry at someone. I’m guessing those may not be his favorite parts of the film?

Alison Klayman: I actually think is that he was very open, but there were people around him that worked for him were more protective of him — as they should be!

Marie Therese Guirgis: Yeah, they were the ones who were more likely to be obstacles to what we were trying to do. I remember at one point telling Alison to just text Steve directly about things that she wanted because he was usually game.

Some of those meeting were astounding to see, like the meeting with the French National Front people and other groups like that. Again, I can understand his motivation for being in the film but I would assume those people would not want to be filmed by an American documentarian.

Alison Klayman: In a way, Bannon was my biggest champion. He would just say, “Oh, let her film, she’s fine!”

Marie Therese Guirgis: Remember, he has a very big ego. And he also has a self-deprecating humor which differentiates him from Trump in a big way. I think the whole process of making the film appealed to him on some level — that he was traveling with his very own entourage that included a talented filmmaker.

Alison Klayman: Right, I think it made him feel very important.

Did you ever have the sense that he was trying to win you over to his side?

That didn’t feel like the dynamic but I did think he wanted me to like him. And he was aware of getting things that would be “good for the film,” that’s the tactic I’d often take with him.

Marie Therese Guirgis: That was usually a good way to ask him for things, to say it would help the film. I think the fact that he had worked in the movie business made him a more interesting subject because he understood it. My original pitch was that the film was going to be critical of him, he knew I didn’t agree with his views, but that it was going to be prestigious with a quality director. He was very drawn to that.

Are you prepared for any criticism you might get that you’re “humanizing” Steve Bannon? I always think those discussions are odd, as if such people are not, in fact, actual human beings, and you’re hardly giving him a platform here to espouse his views, but I’m sure some people will still worry about him being the subject of a film.

Alison Klayman: I think for the entire year of filming and then the time it took to edit, I went to bed every night thinking about that — thinking about who was going to attack me from that vantage point, and also from a right-wing vantage point! We knew we were entering a minefield but I thought it was worth it for what we could show with the kind of intimate access we had. There’s certainly no scene that exists to be like, “Oh, look, he loves his father,” or anything like that. This is definitely not a humanization project, but of course, with a film like this, you’re going to see certain sides of people that you didn’t know about before.

Do you think there’s any chance the film will get on Trump’s radar?

I don’t know. I wonder if he’ll even watch the trailer. A lot of people have said that it would make sense that he’d see it eventually but I can imagine him fast-forwarding it to see how many times he’s mentioned. I bet it would irritate him that it’s not about him. And yet it’s also interesting that even though this film was made after Bannon left the White House and when Trump was so critical of him, Bannon still goes out of his way to not talk trash about Trump.

He’s smart enough that he probably wants to keep on using Trump as long as he possibly can.

And he needs Trump’s base. But the rhetorical gymnastics he had to use to defend Trump and not expose him as an idiot was kind of amazing to watch.

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#Alison Klayman #Steve Bannon #The Brink #Interviews #What's Hot

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