#anyway Ruby my beloved and I love the cooks

[sherbetlemonss]

This is silly lolz

#bistro Huddy #bistro Huddy ruby #bistro Huddy Joey #bistro Huddy nico #bistro Huddy pickles #bistro Huddy art #bistro Huddy fanart #my art #art #IGNORE THE GUYS SHSGGSGSHSHEHDNDN #I’m gonna change their designs probably dndnd #but pickles is mostly ok I really like his •~• #but ya ignore Joey and Nico I doodled them up real quick #anyway Ruby my beloved and I love the cooks

[gabessquishytum]

Gabe my friend, I was just rereading your more domestic Dreamling fics, and I was just struck by how much of a malewife Hob is. This isn't anything new, I think everyone can agree Hob would totally be the kind of wife that cooks and cleans for you, never complaining about how much you work. Soooo, naturally, my mind immediately went to horny mode with this 🤣🤣

This could totally work with the sugar baby au btw or a separate au. But the main catalyst is maybe Hob saw a show or anime once and saw the wife trope, you know the one, "Welcome home dear, would you like a bath, or dinner, or.... me?" And thought, "OMG that's totally me with Dream, let me kick it up a notch."

So one night, Dream goes to Hob's place, goes through the front door for once, and Hob is there wearing only an apron, being sweet and asking him about his day, how was work etc etc. Hob is taking off his coat, ushering him to sit down, serving him drinks.

Hshdehsjshbs I'm getting excited by my own prompt 🤣🤣

Dream is astounded in the best way, and he is so freaking hard, looking at Hob with only an apron, flitting about the apartment, acting like his wife. This is totally unprecedented, and Dream is considering punishing Hob for being so freaking sexy. And then Hob delivers the finishing blow, the line from before. I can't decide if I want him straddling Dream's lap, grinding on the raging hard on or he's bending over and showing off the ruby plug while he's saying it. Either way, Dream ends up throwing his drink aside. After that, well, let's just say Hob had to call off work for a week due to leg issues.

I'm not sure if I've said this before, but all are welcome to write fics based on my prompts. I'm working on multiple fics rn, the more slut Hob fics the better, I say.

-Love Yan Anon <3

My beloved Yan Anon, once again you've knocked it out of the park!!!! I looove this. Malewife/house husband Hob is a VIBE.

Like, obviously Dream doesn't have an "office" but he does usually come to Hob’s flat around the same each day. And sometimes Hob is waiting for him, either dressed up in some demure little wifey outfit that Dream got for him (like a pretty sheer blouse and a velvet skirt, or some skinny low waisted jeans and a cropped t-shirt) OR just the apron. Either way he practically throws himself at Dream when he comes through the door, asking about his day and pouring a nice glass of wine. Hob will rub his shoulders and scold him for being so tense, offering to run a bath and get out the massage oil... but he knows the whole time Dream just wants to fuck him over the kitchen table. Hob just loves teasing him, drawing the evening out and telling him all about the errands he ran and the new dessert he wants Dream to try. Until Dream snaps, grabs him by his waist and pins him up against a kitchen counter. The thing is, Dream never knows if he's coming home to a normal Hob (who is very sexy but also very... normal. He generally waits at least until after dinner to seduce Dream) OR wifey Hob, who absolutely melts Dream’s brain every single time with his sweet smiles and that fucking apron.

Anyway, they almost always end up fucking in the kitchen when Hob is being Dream’s little wife. Dream can't stop himself. He's had to replace to apron at least three times already because he usually ends up tearing it right off Hob’s body <3 he just loves his Hobwife too much hehe.

#yan anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #i am also loving the hobwife agenda tbh

[erros429]

headcanons for team rwby?

SO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON!!

lets start with ruby:

she/they ace lesbian

despite always being kicked out of the kitchen for overcooking everything because her mind can’t conceptualize how the fuck a frying pan works, she’s an EXCELLENT baker. give her an oven and she’ll win the great british baking show EASY

we all know most of her interests stem from her admiration of qrow, but the way she can make a plan off the top of her head is exactly the same as summer (because i say so). and her determination to flip a bad situation onto its head definitely comes from being tai’s daughter

ruby is definitely not stupid or naive, but it’s her lack of effort in the boring subjects in school that bring her grades down. pls try to point someone out to me who can make a scythe gun at 15 and tell me they’re an idiot

actually isn’t very good at action video games. she prefers the puzzle-y type ones, but since she’s grown up playing with yang, she kinda had to.

a master at manipulation. if she REALLLLY wants something, she throws on the doe-eyed look and pouts until her victim cracks. 99% success rate, probably going to be how they defeat salem

wants to be the uncle qrow type of aunt to yang and blake’s kids, but you know… without the alcoholism

weiss:

she/they demisexual lesbian

weiss’s gay awakening was pyrrha 100% — she is a little concerned about her thing for redheads (pyrrha, ruby, penny, probably nora)

allergic to peanuts. learned this the hard way when she was trying one of ruby’s peanut butter sandwiches (weiss very begrudgingly tried it, she was worried she’d get crumbs all over herself)

once found out she and jaune liked one of the same shows and then she immediately began to dislike it. even tried to have the show canceled just to spite him. later on when she’s finally started thinking of him as a respected friend, they have some fun discussions about it

always smells ridiculously good without even trying. seriously, she could go a month without showering and she’d still smell like the finest perfume bottle in existence

weiss adopted a lot of the same mannerisms as klein, like placing her hands behind her back, giving people food from the cafeteria after-hours, and speaking uncharacteristically softly when she sees someone hurt

despite wanting to use her abilities as a huntress to better the schnee name, she’s still extremely business-minded, and it sometimes shows in her daily interactions with people.

blake:

nonbinary bisexual

ilia was blake’s first kiss (stole this hc from @/technicallyblakebelladonna from a comment on one of my old posts, sorry!! i loved it way too much) childhood catmeleon my beloved

lactose intolerant, but consumes dairy anyway because if she can be an ex-white fang member and say “fuck society’s system” then she can say “fuck my digestive system” too

gossips with ren. all the time. they are actually besties. they both love observing people and they’re ridiculously good secret-keepers, so they just dish out all the drama to each other and trust that neither one of them will tell anyone else

hates the enemies to lovers trope. much prefers best friends to lovers

wraps herself into a blanket burrito when she sleeps, unless it’s really hot — then she curls up into a ball, hugging her knees into her chest

very very picky eater, maybe even worse than weiss. she doesn’t have a particularly refined pallet, but she’ll take an hour eating her meals just because she’s trying to individually remove pieces from her food that she doesn’t like

yang:

she/her trans lesbian

used to curse a LOT but when she realizes ruby’s been saying fuck at the ripe old age of 12, she kicks the habit.

the best cook. idgaf what crwby says. she is a homebody. she also loves gardening!

when yang came out as trans, she wanted to have a gender reveal party because she thought it’d be funny.

doesn’t believe in expiration dates until she learns the hard way. she’ll never forget the time she spent an entire week just throwing up.

her sneezes are explosively loud. honestly, everyone around her is convinced that she’ll spout fucking fire from her nose or cause a mini-earthquake one day

learned guitar from tai, but hasn’t done it in over five years. when she lost her arm, she’d stare mournfully at it as it collected dust in the corner of her room, and she tried to pick it back up for a bit after she got her prosthetic

team dynamics:

in beacon, ruby and blake formed a secret little book club after bonding about it one night because they know weiss will just throw really informative nonfiction books at them and yang won’t be interested in the first place.

the only one out of the team that actually drinks is blake. yang and ruby have had bad experiences with qrow’s alcoholism and weiss with her mom’s.

during the beacon days, yang forced weiss to play fuck-marry-kill their teachers (but it’s kiss-marry-kill bc weiss insisted she wouldn’t play if fucking was part of the equation). weiss reluctantly said she’d marry ozpin and yang has never let it go.

in atlas, ruby forces them all to make a pillow fort to parallel their time at beacon. but really it’s an excuse to use yang’s ridiculous body heat to get through the night.

none of the teammates comment on blake’s shower singing because they’re scared she’ll stop if they do

weiss and blake both have ridiculously long skincare routines before bed. yang and ruby secretly keep score of who takes longer every night

similarly, weiss and yang both take ridiculously long in the shower (weiss because she’s scared of having so much as a speck of dirt on herself, and yang because shampooing her hair takes forever and a day). blake and ruby secretly keep score of who takes longer every morning

weiss and ruby bond over NEEDING to pop all the bubbles on bubble-wrap

to get revenge on yang drawing mustaches on them while they’re sleeping, the rest of the team bands together to completely vandalize her face one night. ever since, she’s never been the first to sleep

the team becomes so accustomed to each other, they can all tell their footsteps apart. ruby’s feet slide a bit against the floor, weiss’s basically dance, blake’s are nearly soundless, and yang’s are heavy-footed and make the floor creak

when blake and yang start dating, they’re so fucking insufferable, weiss is certain she’ll have a stroke. at one point, she thinks she’s finally gotten used to them constantly touching each other or looking at each other for prolonged periods of time, but then she’ll catch them making out on her bed, and she decides to just throw the entire mattress away.

weiss is touch-starved (nobody’s surprised) but ruby gives her the best tackle-hugs to make up for the years lost

#rwby #rwby headcanons #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby #weiss schnee #ruby rose #whiterose #mentions of catmeleon schneekos frostbyte and nordic winter #yeesh! this took a while #i love that not a single character in this damn show is cis or het #gays flock together #thanks for the ask!!! i had lots of fun #asks #anon #long post

[lily-of-rabanastre]

Ascilia—Chapter 8, Scene 05 Excerpt

As with before, this is just a bit from the upcoming chapter. Depression is hitting me like a stack of untimely hanmmers, and it's a struggle to get anything done lately. Anyways, here you go.

It was a little more than one bell after noon when Lily arrived in Radz-at-Han, appearing within the aetheryte plaza in a flash of blue light. Though the rains had ceased, the sky above was still somewhat cloudy. The market streets of Radz-at-Han were largely sheltered from inclement weather. But if the storms returned, perhaps she could hurry along on her daily chores and find someplace cozy and warm to watch them.

Putting aside such thoughts as she moved forward, Lily reached up to activate her linkpearl. “Ascilia? Can you hear me?”

It was close to a minute before she got a response, her linkpearl crackling to life with the sound of her beloved’s voice. “‘Tis good to hear from you, love. I’m afraid we’re not quite finished here, however.”

“What seems to be the holdup?” she asked, leaning her back against a nearby wall.

“We’ve gotten the approval of Master Fourchenault and Scholarch Montichaigne,” said Ascilia. “But we’re waiting for a response from the Forum before we make our move. If we’re denied access to the restricted archives—”

“You’ll find a way, I’m sure of it,” Lily cut her short, thinking back to the mischief she and her friends had gotten up to in their first day in Sharlayan. “If nothing else, Y’shtola could probably smuggle you in as a frog or something.”

“As a… frog?” Lily’s linkpearl went quiet for many seconds, and when it crackled to life again, she could hear Ascilia stifling her laughter. “Hm hm hm, well… I suppose if it comes to that, I wouldn’t mind enduring a little transformation. You’d do much the same, after all, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s… right?” All of a sudden, Lily felt a chill in the air. “What exactly are you planning?”

“You worry too much, hm hm,” came the voice of Ascilia. “Ah, I’ve got to go. Shtola wishes to check out the curiosities in the marketplace. We should have an answer within an hour or two—see you then, my galbana lily!”

After a stifled, nervous laugh, Lily lowered her head and sighed. “I am going to regret mentioning that, aren’t I…?”

“Regret mentioning what, exactly?”

Turning aside, Lily caught sight of a red-haired Viera—her older sister, Rubedo. She was dressed today like any other Thavnairian, wearing a nice white vest and comfortable looking pants and sandals. In her hands there was a large intricately woven basket full of fresh fruit and vegetables, some small glass jars containing cooking spices, and a few bundles of colorful clothing.

“Good afternoon, Ruby,” Lily said, smiling warmly at her sister. “It’s nothing worth mentioning, really. I was just catching up with Ascilia.”

“... I see.” Between the hesitance in her voice and the way her eyes flitted about, it seemed to Lily that Rubedo was worried someone might overhear them. Even after she settled down, when she next spoke, it was in a hushed and conspiratorial tone. “Must your friend continue this pursuit? Is there nothing you can say to deter her?”

“If you mean Y’shtola, I’m afraid not. Once she’s committed herself, it’d take moving mountains to get her to budge.” It was a quality she had in common with someone else, Lily knew. She could only hope this business with the Void would not prove similarly disastrous. “... Would it set your mind at ease if I accompanied her? I’m something of a seasoned veteran in these matters.”

“Far from it, dear sister. I…” As she trailed off, Rubedo lowered her eyes to the basket resting between her hands. “... Memories of the past still haunt me, I fear. I have lost much in these past few years. I do not wish to lose you too.”

“Tell me about it,” said Lily, stepping in close to rest her hand upon her sister’s shoulder. “All your joy, and your sorrow. Everything you’ve been up to since we last saw each other. I’d love to hear it, Krjn.”

“... Perhaps another time” Rubedo suggested, her gaze drifting towards Lily’s outstretched arm. “For now I am shopping for foodstuffs with Mihleel. Aside from restocking our pantry, she hopes to invite her beloved for dinner tonight.”

Something about the abrupt change of topic raised a warning bell in Lily’s mind. If there was anyone Rubedo could confide in, wouldn’t it be her own flesh and blood? But for now it seemed best to respect her wishes, and so she let it slide. “That sounds like a pleasant evening, but I’m a bit confused. You… live with Mihleel?”

“Ah!” Rubedo gasped, barely avoiding dropping her basket. Breathing a sigh of relief as she steadied herself, she looked up to her sister and gave a sheepish smile. “I forgot to mention that last night, didn’t I…? But yes. Mihleel… in a manner of speaking, she adopted me. I’ve lived with her since… well, not since, but…”

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #post endwalker #galbana lily #wolfilia #minfilia warde

[peskygirl13]

TWST Pokemon AU Part 4: Scarabia

It wasn’t until I started working on this that I realized that I used all three Unova starters 😅

The previous post (and my favorite post so far) can be found here

My masterlist with my other works can be found here

Also, it has come to my attention that some people have been unable to see my blog. I logged out of tumblr and searched up my account and it said I didn’t have any posts, which obviously isn’t true. 

If you can’t see my account or know someone who can’t see it, please let me know. Tumblr may just be glitching, but I just want to be on the safe side.

Kalim:

“Oshawott!!~ I have some more food for you!”

You loved Kalim, you really did, but his tendency to spoil your already somewhat spoiled Pokémon drove you nuts.

Your Oshawott was rather quirky, often wandering off and doing things by itself.

Back in your world, you had grown so used to Oshawott exiting its Pokéball by itself and wandering off that you didn’t really bat an eye at it.

It was hard to break that habit after arriving to Twisted Wonderland, which caused some problems.

After a few incidents with Oshawott walking unsupervised around the school, specifically a dorm full of wild beastmen, Crowley ordered you to never let Oshawott out of your sight.

It was hard enough trying to keep track of Grim, whom your beloved Pokémon didn’t get along with, but trying to keep track of Oshawott and Grim was near impossible. Especially since your quirky, carefree Pokémon just couldn’t seem to grasp the dangers of this new world and continued to wander off when you weren’t looking.

If you kept your eyes on Grim, Oshawott disappeared. If you kept your eyes on Oshawott, Grim disappeared. It was a ‘lose-lose’ situation.

During Crewel’s alchemy class, you were more focused on Grim (considering he was your lab partner) and Oshawott wandered off without you knowing.

The Pokémon made it to the mirror chamber and snuck through Scarabia’s mirror.

After classes, Kalim returned to the dorm by himself since Jamil had basketball practice. 

He was surprised to see an otter looking creature floating in Scarabia’s front fountain.

While you and Kalim hadn’t officially met yet, he recognized Oshawott from the entrance ceremony since you had ordered it to put out Grim’s flames.

Of course he got excited at the appearance of the otter Pokémon and quickly ran over to great the Pokémon.

Kalim’s shadow shaded Oshawott from Scarabia’s sun, making the Pokémon open its eyes to see who was interrupting its relaxation time, only to be met with Kalim’s sparkling ruby red eyes as he doted and cooed over Oshawott.

Now your Oshawott was cute, and the little bastard knew it. And, unfortunately for our resident sunshine boy, Oshawott could spot a sucker a mile away.

Jamil returned to the dorm later that he would have liked.

Basketball practice had been cut short when a frantic (Y/n) ran into the gym, asking Ace if he could help them and Deuce find Oshawott.

Floyd decided to join them since he was also fond of Oshawott and, somehow, Jamil got roped into helping them search too.

It was dinner time when Jamil returned to the dorm. They still hadn’t found Oshawott, but Jamil was more worried about the dorm.

He was already imagining the worst scenarios possible after leaving Kalim unsupervised for so long.

The only thing he hadn’t pictured was walking in on Kalim feeding Oshawott grapes, the little otter covered head to toe in jewelry.

One quick call later and a frustrated and annoyed (Y/n) arrived to Scarabia.

Picking up Oshawott, who futility tried to escape, you began shaking off all the jewelry it was decorated with. Afterwards, you irritably marched back to Ramshakle.

You kept a closer eye on Oshawott after that. But any time it managed to slip away, you would always find it in Scarabia with Kalim.

Jamil:

“At least you aren’t a bug type.”

You needed someone to watch your Snivy.

You had a meeting with Crowley to discuss how things were going with getting you home and work he needed you to do around the campus.

Your Snivy never seemed to be that found of Crowley (which was pretty understandable), so you tried to keep the two separated as much as possible.

You didn’t know how long the meeting was going to last and the Adeuce combo was busy and if you left it alone at Ramshakle with Grim, you were certain you’d come back to a bonfire with the dorm used as kindling. 

So Kalim, being a sweetheart, said that you could leave Snivy at Scarabia.

You agreed gratefully agreed and handed your precious grass snake Pokémon to the Scaracbia Dorm leader

Unknown to you, Kalim did this without telling Jamil. The poor vice dorm leader was surprised and annoyed when Kalim returned to the Dorm with a green snake walking beside him.

A stern but short scolding later, Kalim tried to play with Snivy with little success. 

You had warned the boy that your Snivy wasn’t really a ‘People-Pokémon’ and preferred to be alone, but, of course, the boy didn’t listen.

He constantly tried to hug the Pokémon, only for it to pick him up with vine whip and set him a few feet away. 

While annoyed by the boy, it didn’t want to hurt him.

Jamil spent most of his day watching Kalim chase after a snake monster that so clearly wanted to be left alone.

After a while, Jamil decided to step in and see if he could save the poor Pokémon before it snapped and actually attacked Kalim with it’s Vine Whip.

“Kalim, shouldn’t you feed it?”

“Huh? Oh! You’re right! Let’s see, (Y/n) said that its main diet included vegetables--”

“Let me take care of it. I need to start dinner anyway.”

“That’s a great idea! Here!”

Kalim picked up a disgruntled and slightly irritable Snivy and plopped it in Jamil’s arms.

“Snivy, Jamil is going to take care of you for now, ‘kay?”

“Snivy.” Your Pokémon was pretty indifferent.

After Kalim left, Jamil set Snivy down and headed to the kitchen with the grass snake Pokémon at his feet. The grass Pokémon seemed a bit relived that Kalim was gone, something that Jamil could feel deep in his soul.

A few hours later, you returned to Scarabia to pick up Snivy and were pleasantly surprised to find Jamil and your Pokemon cooking together.

“Wow, Jamil. I’m impressed at how fast Snivy warmed up to you.”

“Hmm?”

You explained to him that Snivy had a trainer before you that it decided to leave and that since then, Snivy had been pretty wary of people.

“Truth be told, I was worried about leaving Snivy here because I believed that Kalim may have been a bit too much for Snivy, but it looks like I was worried for nothing. I’m glad that Snivy is comfortable around Jamil,” You smiled, “You’re truly incredible.”

Jamil felt his cheeks flush a bit as you began rolling up your sleeves. 

“Now, can I help?”

Before Jamil respond, Snivy used Vine Whip to lift you up and set you by the door before wagging its vines in front of your face like a lecturing finger.

“Snivy! Snivy-vy Sni Vy.”

Jamil couldn’t understand a word it said, but it sounding similar to how he lectures to Kalim. You seemed to understand perfectly, however.

“Ok! Alright!” You snapped, annoyed, beginning to exit the kitchen while grumbling under your breath. 

“One curry mishap and anytime your in the kitchen you become a hazard to society!”

And yet another similarity Jamil could find between him and the Pokémon.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #pokemon #twst x pokemon #twisted wonderland x pokemon #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper

[westershiresauce]

Headcanon: Deus Ex Scuba Gear

Note: Spoilers for Bly Manor. 

So, here is my Bly Manor/Supergirl crossover crackfic headcanon where Kara is Dani and her ex Mike gets killed by a truck when he walks into traffic after Kara comes out to him and breaks off their relationship.

“Mike, I think I’m gay,” the blonde whispers, too ashamed to speak any louder. The man next to her tenses slightly before a look of relief washes over him.

“Oh thank God,” he says, and smiles at a confused Kara.

“What? You’re okay with this?” Mike shrugs and shoots the woman his frustratingly disarming grin. 

“I mean, am I glad I’m being dumped? No. Am I relieved that the reason is you aren’t into guys? Kind of.” Kara wrinkles her brows in confusion and he continues. 

“I mean, I know I’m hot.” Mike grins again and winks at the blonde who purses her lips at his peacocking, “I thought maybe you were just frigid or something.”

“Mike!” Kara looks around to make sure no one is listening. Mike laughs and she shoots him a glare. 

“Hey, you’re the one that decided to break my heart at the corner of a major intersection.” 

He winks at her and she advances on the man, trying to shut him up. He skips away from her, ignoring the fact that he is now in the crosswalk of the intersection. 

“Mike! Stop fooling around!” the blonde pleads but the man ignores her. 

“Hey, were you checking out chicks while we were together?” He waggles his eyebrows and Kara balls her fists at her sides. She refuses to take the bait. The man just laughs at her silence. “Dude, you totally did. What’s your type?” 

He goes quiet suddenly and his face lights up. Kara shakes her head. It is seldom a good thing when the man gets a light bulb moment. 

“Hey Kara,” his face gets lecherous and Kara readies herself for some horrifying comment, “Would you let me watch?” 

Kara’s face blooms red with embarrassment and anger. She steps closer to jab her finger against the man’s face and get her point across. However, Mike anticipates this and he takes another step back, grin still in place even as a truck barrels into his body. Kara stares in shock, midstep and with her finger still in the air as Mike is flung at least twenty feet down the street. The smell of burning rubber as the truck attempts to stop and the blaring sound of a horn being pressed much too late fill her senses. 

Kara: “No, Mike, not gay as in happy. Good lord, dude!”

Kara is at the hospital when Mike is pronounced dead. Rhea never really liked her so she leaves for her apartment, still shaken but confused about how she feels about what happened. On the one hand she feels responsible for what happened, but on the other hand, she almost feels relieved. Until, that is, she goes to wash her hands in the bathroom and sees Mike standing behind her. She screams and when she turns around, he is gone. It isn’t until a few days later that she hears someone walking around her apartment that she realizes what happened. She grabs her trusty bat and walks out, expecting some coke addict rifling through her bookshelves but instead sees Mike, pawing at her bookcase. He grunts in frustration when his hand goes through a book but cheers when he manages to knock one onto the floor. Kara drops the bat in shock and Mike turns around, grins wide and puts a hand up in a peace sign, just like when he was alive.

Mike: “I’m still here, bro!”

Turns out Mike is tethered to Kara and it is a horrible, cruel curse. He is both the best and worst wingman and Kara is still not convinced he doesn’t try to peek when she is getting dressed or showering but he also helps her learn to be more confident. All his shameless arrogance makes him a great cheerleader, at least once they talk about some ground rules.

1. No creeping on Kara in the bathroom or when she is changing. Mike scoffs at this and mutters about being able to creep on hotter ladies. 

2. No unsolicited advice or comments about women that Kara is not interested in pursuing a relationship with. This is added after a week of Mike making comments about women that had Kara blushing constantly, even at work.

3. No watching when Kara has a lady over. She wasn’t sure where Mike disappeared off to when she did manage to have a date come back to her place but he would always leave after shooting Kara another peace sign and telling her to “do the circle thing I showed you.”

It all hits the fan when Rhea gets wind of Kara dating women and she packs up and leaves. She does not want to deal with that fallout and she would rather get a fresh start somewhere else. Where is that where else? London, Bly Manor, American au pair, you know the rest.

Kara: “Yeah, I’m gonna take a one way and gtfo of here.”

Who are our players at Bly?

Our cook Owen Sharma is good old Jack Spheer because sometimes these things write themselves. And who is our beloved Hannah Grose? Why, Lucy Lane. Because she was too good and I always want to see more of her. Plus she can be a stern little spitfire with the kids and ghosties (The kids refer to her to as Major). She takes her fine self and daydreams about the moment that charming Jack came over to get the job as a cook, not dead, just as a useless hetero (is that a thing? It is now...) that can’t fathom for some reason that Jack is totally in love with her.

As for Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint? Kelly Olsen (the only character with any brain cells half the time) and Andrea Rojas, our muy caliente Scotsman. Is that racist? No, but her horrendous accent might be a crime. This version has none of the controlling assholeroy of Peter and no secretly killing Rebecca. Just good old bad luck in a horror series. Andrea gets drunk and tries to dive into the lake to find the chest of loot she is convinced is down there so her and Kelly can run away to America. 

Andrea: “This is a file on all the reasons you should run away from this haunted ass creepy mansion and come with me to America. Also, there is a map I drew of the lake with an X where the loot most definitely is.”

Kelly: “This is just a picture of you in lingerie and a sheet of paper you colored blue with a big red X in the middle.” 

Kelly dies trying to save her when Andrea starts to get hypothermia and they both drown in the freezing lake. Because why bury your gays when you can drown them? Amiright? Who finds their bodies the next day? This leads to the following section: Next slide, please!

Who is standing in for Miles and Flora Wingrave? Why, Ruby and a tiny Nia, of course. Nia is a sweet baby angel and I want to meet her as a little sister, totally doted on by her big sister, Ruby. Nia sees Andrea and Kelly arguing like lesbians (so much hand waving and crying and angry whispering) on the far end of the lake while their blue popsicle bodies float around. Ruby and Lucy drag little Nia away from the scene.

Nia: “My giant scarf is perfectly splendid! Also, I am baby.” 

Things get really spicy when Kara shows up, ghost!Mike and all. He complains about not being able to haunt the “hot chick from apartment 314” any more, but he perks up at the thought of “British broads.” Kara had hoped he was tethered to National City or something, but it appears he is linked to her. Mike is ecstatic when he finds out Bly is full of ghosts. He is always off somewhere exploring the mansion and only pops in to tell Kara snippets of Bly’s history and its many inhabitants. 

Meanwhile, we get to the real star of this indulgent charade. Lena as the wonderfully fit Irish (let her have the accent!) gardener, Jaime. She is convinced Kara is a corn-fed straighty from America until Kara throws herself at her in the greenhouse because flowers turn on lesbians (see Imagine You and Me and Georgia O'Keeffe’s many works. This is sapphic lore, kids.) She opens up about Mike and Lena smooches her so she doesn’t have to listen to the hot blonde’s delusions. 

Lena: “What do you mean it is too bright? What book? This is a watering can for my gardening activities. So is my fashionable, appropriately sized hat.”

Kara: *OMG she is so hot and cool, what do I do?* “Hey, do you guys do the circle thing in the UK?” 

Meanwhile, things are getting interesting with Mike and the ghosts: Kelly and Andrea, newly minted Bly ghosts, explain that they are stuck on the grounds. Mike, who believes in having the freedom of “you do you,” vows to break the curse. He strikes a heroic pose that makes Andrea roll her eyes but Kelly agrees they need to find out more about the origins of the Bly Manor curse. 

Flashback episode in a horrid b/w tone because I want to show this is old, okay. It’s not like we could figure it out by the clothes. Or the set dressing. Or the fact that the one of the characters died of “the lung.”

Anyway, we have our sisters, Viola and the other one. Their names don’t really matter because they are going to be the brunette one and the blonde one, played by the queen of period series: Katie McGrath.   

Anger-y brunette Katie, getting her smacking hand ready. 

And blonde, sad (but also evil? plot twist!) Katie, lusting after her brother in law. 

And they fight over none other than Daddy Cullen, Maxwell Lorde, because look at that hair, look at all those buttons, look at that big hand! Who could resist? 

The child is baby Lena being twirled by Anger-y Katie pre-“the lung” because let’s just have this turn into a black hole that destroys itself. 

Baby Lena: “Swing me, mummy. Swing me with your good lungs!”

Anger-y Smack-You-Every-Time Katie: “I swung too close to the sky and now this is happening to me.”

So while Kara and Lena are christening all sorts of places at Bly (yes, even the master wing because, of course, the master wing), Mike, Andrea, and Kelly are incepting themselves into all sorts of memories and whatnot. Cue that montage!

404 ERROR. MONTAGE NOT FOUND. 

Whoops, looks like we blew our budget on that black and white filter. Sorry about that.

Once the ghost trio realizes the chest in the lake doesn’t in fact hold some dragon’s hoard of gold, but the key to ending this madness, Mike pops in on Lena and Kara to bring them up to speed. Kara screams at him about the third rule while Lena tries to accept the fact that her girlfriend (yes, they are girlfriends by now, keep up) has a ghost for a best friend. 

Kara makes Mike look away while her and Lena get dressed and after quite a bit of exposition, they decide to pull the chest up from the lake. Lucy and Jack have been off playing hide the croissant or whatever the straights do during their leisure time, but they quickly hop on the “break the Bly manor curse” train.  

There is a fun B (C?) plot where Ruby and Nia steal Jack’s car and drive into town. No one in town cares because they are rich and all the adults at Bly are busy romancing each other and assume the girls are being odd rich kids playing somewhere in the manor. 

The adults are planning how to get down to the chest without suffering Andrea and Kelly’s fate, when they find some scuba gear the kids bought on their last trip to town. It is wholly impractical but the adults shrug and accept the plot hole so they can hurry this along. 

They draw straws and Kara has to dive down and tie some chains around the sunken chest. Lena jumps in front of limited edition Scuba Gear Kara to stop her but the American has to America so she dives into the freezing lake after a swoon inducing “I’ll be right back” kiss. Like, gifable on tumblr, twitter, and whatever new platform there is a hundred years from now.  

Scuba Gear Kara: “Guys, I can’t see anything through this helmet. Guys?“

After a few tense moments where Anger-y Olden Time™ Katie tries to stop Kara, Mike, Andrea, and Kelly step in and use their ghost powers to keep her away from Kara. Jack uses his car to pull up the haunted chest and they pry it open with a crowbar and plenty of moxie. The screams of slap happy Katie of the past ring out around the heroes as the curse is broken. The ghosts cheer, everyone laughs nervously (they know the end is never the end in a horror story) and Kara shivers from the cold until she is next to the fire, dry and cuddled up with Lena.

As her final act of revenge, Anger-y Katie gives Kara the Lung(!) but thanks to the power of Science, our spunky American pulls through after properly completing the full course of treatment and antibiotics. This includes Lena taking sexy care of her girlfriend. *wink*

***** westershiresauce is not a medical professional and their thoughts regarding the health benefits/healing powers of a sexy nurse!Lena are not verified. Don’t take srsly. ***** 

Cut to, one more garden and I can retire, Lena, sitting next to an immaculate shrub, waiting for her wife Kara to bring out the tea and biscuits. 

THE END!

Lena: “I swear to all that is holy, if that tea is shite, I am leaving her. It’s been like thirty years!”  

#supercorp #supergirl #bly manor netflix #the haunting of bly manor #headcanon #crack #headcanon crack #kara x lena #kara danvers #lena luthor #katie mcgrath #tw: drowning #facetious #best casting #Nia is baby #crack retelling #handwaving #no hate appreciate #peak comdey #comedy #omg humor #Picture it Bly Manor AU #kind of fix it #happy endings #westershiresauce #westershiresaucewrites

[ma-lemons]

home (march 29- modern au)

@itallartandgames had an idea: Oscar being the cook of the two and that he combs his fingers through Ruby’s hair when she falls asleep. This idea was given to me a while ago, but I decided it would be nice for the first day. they also gave me the idea for “Freckles” as a nickname. it’s cute.

—————————————————————

“I’m baaaaaaaack!” her voice echoed in the house.

Oscar’s heart raced when he heard the cheery voice of his beloved through the walls. She was finally back.

He slipped his feet into his fuzzy slippers and left the kitchen to see if she needed help with her bags.

Halfway to the living room, Ruby attacked him in a hug.

“Guh,” Oscar sputtered, stumbling a little. His fiancée’s arms were flung around his torso, squeezing him as hard as she could. In the midst of her bear hug, Oscar got a whiff of the maple-scent that was always present at Ruby’s father’s house.

“I missed you,” she murmured, leaning into his hair. Once Oscar recovered from his shock, he hugged her back. “Missed you too, Rubes.”

Oscar’s long-ish locks tickled her chin and she giggled as they seperated. Oscar took note of her luggage.

“You want me to take that for you? I was going to start dinner, but I got so caught up watching something that time slipped past me,” he apologized.

“Don’t worry, Oscar,” Ruby yawned, kicking her boots off. “I can wait. I kinda want to watch that cop show anyway.” She twisted herself back to him and grasped his wrist lightly. “I missed you,” she repeated, brushing a kiss onto his cheek.

“I missed you more,” he murmured back. He missed her soft touch, her warm hands, the warmest part of her. Ruby shooed him away, and he retreated into the kitchen, which left her alone to her luggage.

She had visited her sister and her father. Yang was visiting home with her wife Blake, and their young daughter Ianthe. Ruby’s heart always swelled holding her chubby niece’s hand. Yang and Blake were good moms, as Ruby had predicted they would be.

She pulled her two bags down the hall, to the room she shared with Oscar. Placing them against the wall, she thought of children. Her dad had jokingly asked her when she and Oscar would have kids, and Ruby had laughed it off. They hadn’t talked about it yet, so she would cross that bridge when they got there. For now, she and Oscar were content with just being around Ianthe and Nora and Ren’s kids.

Stretching comfortably before the mirror, she shucked off her sweater, leaving her in a camisole. She tied it around her waist and left the room. As much as she loved her dad’s place, she was beyond relieved to be back home with Oscar. She had missed him and his reassuring words. She faced the beige-ish walls of their room. This was home. The one they had created together.

In the end, she had chosen Oscar. She questioned herself, who she liked, who she didn’t like, whether she liked anyone at all—and eventually decided it was time for her to make up her mind. And even though it took her ages to see it, Oscar had been waiting for her from the very beginning.

Smiling to herself, she left their room and headed to the living room. Flopping on the couch, she flipped through channels until she found the cop show Yang had gotten her hooked on.

As the bright colors flashed across the screen and the funky music played, Ruby began to get whiffs of whatever her fiancé was making her. It was bound to be delicious. He was an amazing cook—the better of the two—and Ruby would eat anything he made anyway.

She nestled herself into the couch and yawned. The trip back was exhausting, but she didn’t want to fall asleep before actually getting to spend time with Oscar.

Spices hit her nose and her mouth practically watered.

“Whatever you’re making smells good, Freckles,” Ruby called over the blaring noises of the television. She had a knowing smile growing on her face.

“Please stop calling me Freckles, love. And thank you,” he replied.

Ruby’s proud expression quickly changed. She blushed, squeezing the pillow in her arms. She’d never admit it, but Oscar calling her love was one of her favorite things in the world. It made her feel so... special. Her heart went pitter-patter but she tried her hardest to focus on the screen, where the cop was making a bad pun.

Oscar sprinkled pepper across the salmon filets. Ruby actually wasn’t a big fan of fish, as she didn’t eat it a lot as a kid, but she liked salmon. Especially with Oscar’s Spanish rice. He decided to keep it simple this time.

He heard his love’s padded footsteps enter the living room and smiled to himself when she turned on the police comedy. Most of the jokes went over his head, but he thought it was a good show overall. Ruby was more of a comedy person, Oscar loved dramas. One genre they could agree on, however, was rom-coms. All they needed was a box of tissues and blankets, and their night would be complete.

“Whatever you’re making smells good, Freckles,” she called to him.

Oscar knew better. There’s no way Ruby wouldn’t recognize the distinct smell of one of her favorite meals. But that nickname. It always got to him. He wasn’t a fan, admittedly, but he grew more tolerant over the years, finally putting up with the goddamn name Ruby had called him, even before they started to date.

“Please stop calling me Freckles, love. And thank you,” he sighed, flipping the salmon over.

At least she was home. The place they shared together was quiet without her. He’d have to spend hours staring at peeling wallpaper or their pictures in the hallway.

He sighed dreamily. Plating the salmon, he whispered a thank you to the skies for Ruby, the girl he had liked for so long, being at his side.

Oscar dropped two forks onto the seperate plates and shuffled over to the next room over.

“Dinner’s ready,” he smiled warmly, placing the plates on the coffee table. “You want water? Or iced tea?”

“Water, please. Oscar—this looks so good, thank you,” Ruby murmured, her wide eyes fixed on the plates.

He soon returned with two glasses of ice water and he slumped down into the couch next to her.

“Thank you for the food.”

“Anything for you, love,” he smiled back at her.

Gah! Stop, heart! Control yourself! Ruby willed herself not to blush or say something stupid.

“What episode is this?” he asked, nodding towards the TV.

“The vacation special.”

“Ah.”

The two ate their food quietly, save for the moments where Ruby would laugh or they’d idly chatter.

“This was soooo good,” Ruby murmured, scooting closed to him. Oscar grinned, ruffling her hair. Ruby’s skin brushed up against his, sending shivers down his spine.

“I missed your cooking. I love Dad’s, but I think you’re taking his place,” she whispered, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t think Tai would be very happy to hear those words, love,” he rumbled in amusement.

“Nah, he’d get over it,” she smiled back. A sleepy look settled over her face, and a yawn escaped her lips.

“You must be very tired,” he noted.

“No, no... I’m fine. Actually let me take care of these dishes.” Ruby left Oscar’s side and grabbed the plates. He suddenly missed her warmth and wanted it back.

“Rubes, come sit down, I’ll get to them later,” he insisted.

“You cooked, so I’ll clean.” She didn’t hesitate to grab the plates before Oscar could, and hurried into the kitchen.

“Thank you!” he called from the sofa.

“Of course!”

She returned a few moments later, just as Oscar was getting comfy.

“I don’t remember this part,” Oscar notes as she sat down. It was the scene where the workaholic female cop had a hard time relaxing on her vacation.

“Oh, yeah, this is a two-part special. This first part’s tonight and the next one’s tomorrow. We only ever watched the second part together,” Ruby replied, her eyes glued to the TV.

Oscar made a noise in understanding.

His fiancée settled in next to him. She yawned again, little tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Come here, you,” Oscar said softly, gently taking her head into his lap. She stretched out the rest of her body, then curled herself up.

“Mhm, thank you,” she whispered to him. She loved when he did this.

The show was almost over, but Oscar wasn’t paying any attention to it. He reached his hand for Ruby’s hair, and ran his hands through it. Tentatively, at first. When she didn’t protest, he took that as permission to keep going. Gently, running through the ends. Black strands with the red highlights at the end. A unique look, but Ruby was all sorts of unique.

“This feels really nice...”

Her voice was getting smaller, and Oscar knew that she’d be asleep any moment from now.

“Go to sleep, love.”

“I’m actually... not as tired as you think. In fact,” she stopped, flipping her body so that she was laying on her back, and her face was parallel to his, “Let me tell you about my day.”

“Alright,” he resigned.

“Well, Ianthe says she misses you. She made me promise to drag you along with me next time I visit,” Ruby laughed. It wasn’t like her usual, overdramatic and hysterical laughter that he had gotten so used to. It was richer, quieter.

Oscar would remember to bring Ianthe something. His niece was fond of plants and always wanted to learn about a new one every time they met.

“I’ll bring her something next time. We’ll go together,” he replied.

“Yeah, she’d like that. Everyone else says hi too. And... Yang dragged me and Blake out to see bridesmaids dresses.” She added the last sentence hurriedly.

“Oh?”

Ruby twiddled her fingers, and sucked in a large breath before letting it go.

“Yeah... I told her that even though we’re engaged, we weren’t really looking at anything yet.” Her eyes wandered to meet his, and he blinked twice.

Oscar thought for a moment. “Maybe we should. I mean, we have a date already.”

“Yeah... two years from now,” Ruby snickered. “You proposed to me knowing fully well that we wouldn’t get to have a ceremony for a long time.”

“Well... I couldn’t wait. I wanted to be with you,” he teased.

“Ah, stop!” Ruby cried, slapping her hands onto her face. It was growing hot. She was definitely blushing. Maybe he couldn’t see it in the dark?

“You’re blushing, love.”

“Shut up!”

“Anyway... we can start doing real planning right now. I don’t mind, but I already live with you, it’s like being married,” he shrugged.

Ruby’s heart went from its small, rhythmic beats, to intense pounding.

“Yeah. It is,” she swallowed.

“Well, either way, I’m glad you enjoyed your trip. I’m even happier you’re home, though.”

Home.

“I am too.”

Soon after that, they both fell silent. Oscar hadn’t stopped finger-combing her hair, even for a moment. It felt so relaxing and so... nice...

Soon enough, Ruby had fallen asleep, her soft snores like a baby’s. It was weird. She was usually a really loud snorer. Her cop show had ended and now a firefighter drama had started in its place.

Ruby, although she wasn’t heavy, was starting to weigh on him a little. But she was adorable, so he chose to stay quiet and enjoy it. Besides, she must’ve been really exhausted.

A yawn of his own, mellow, left his mouth.

Staring back at Ruby’s face, he could see how her flushed cheeks were fading, and how her mouth was still slightly open. Her head began to tilt to the side.

Oscar leaned down and pressed his lips to her warm forehead. In a bit, he’d probably carry her to bed, if he didn’t fall asleep himself before then.

@rwbyrosegardenweek

#rosegarden #asks #prompts #ruby x oscar #rwby #ruby rose #oscar pine #rosegarden week #rosegarden ship week #rg is that one couple that is so awkward and always complimenting each other #everyone hates them #oscar is shorter tham ruby here #forgot today was the first day #do i like this #nope #i tried though

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

First off let me start with I love your writing so much !! Makes my day so much better when I read what you post ! I was wondering if you could do this, it’s a bit specific though. Blake and Yang areat a gathering with everyone (Team RWBY + JNR) with their kid(s) and everyone else’s kids (assuming others have kids) and their kid curses if front of everyone. They are all dumbfounded and Blake and Yang are super embarrassed. Sorry it’s so specific, I get if you wouldn’t wanna write it !

No, you’re good, mate.

Anyway, Akira has inherited her ma’s tendency to issue the sickest of burns (usually at her Aunt Ruby’s expense and is regularly encouraged by her Aunt Weiss) and Yang continues to be unable to stay mad when Blake is an adorably gremlin.

I hope you enjoy 😊

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake smiled as she looked around the park, enjoying the sight of her friends being reunited.

Ruby, happily single and a doting Aunt to all of the children, had them sitting around her and listening to an over exaggerated story of one of their adventures as Weiss, also single and refusing to budge on that matter, occasionally elbowed her and retold the story properly.

Ren currently was watching a pregnant Nora make an unholy abomination of a sandwich with quiet fondness while Jaune watched on in silent horror.

And Yang? Yang was currently trying to sooth a fussy 2 year old Elira. The baby cat faunus was proving to be exceedingly dramatic already.

“Alright, everyone. Food’s done!” Blake called from her place at the public grill. The grill being the only thing that Yang allowed her to cook on unsupervised . Mostly because Blake may have set their first apartment together on fire a tiny bit.

“Yes! Blake makes the best BBQ!” Ruby yelled excitedly as she hoisted Ren and Nora’s twin 3 year olds into her arms and ran over to the table as Weiss walked over at a calmer rate with Akira. The 10 year old looked at the screaming twins with disdain.

“Is the screaming necessary?” Akira grumbled, lion ears flicking. “Always with the screaming. Nobody appreciates stealth anymore.”

Blake snorted in amusement. Akira had slowly become more dedicated to the idea of being a huntress and was taking it very seriously.

“Don’t laugh, mother.” Akira said dryly, sounding more and more like Blake every day. “Aunt Ruby is meant to be the greatest huntress if her generation. How the fuck she made it this far without proper stealth etiquette, I’ll never fucking know.”

There was the sound of cutlery hitting the table and everyone snapped their heads to stare dumbfounded at a nonplussed Akira.

“What? What did I say?” Akira defended. “I’m just saying that Aunt Ruby is super bloody lucky. Mum too.”

“Akira.” Yang said quietly through gritted teeth in a sickly sweet tone. “Language, please.”

“Oh son of a bitch, I forgot!” Akira froze before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’m so grounded, aren’t I?”

“Bitch!” A squeaky voice called from Yang’s arms.

“Definitely.” Blake said before muttering under her breath; “and I’m so sleeping on the couch tonight.”

There was an awkward pause before Ruby started snickering as she handed Ren and Nora a twin each. Those snickers slowly turned to full blown cackles that soon had everyone joining in.

Even a very embarrassed Blake and Yang.

As Akira sat next to her beloved Aunt Ruby (who found the young girl’s roasts to be amusing more than anything) Yang handed a giggling Elira off to Weiss and came over to help Blake pile the plates.

“I love you so much, Blake.” Yang sighed wearily. “But I am so not happy about this. Our 10 year old daughter curses like a sailor.”

“… sorry?” Blake said with a sheepish grin. When Yang narrowed her eyes at her, Blake sighed and leaned over, butting her head against Yang’s jaw.

“Nope. Not gonna work this time, Blake.”

Blake let out a small whine and nuzzled her neck.

“Blake…”

Blake bit back a smirk. Neither woman could stay mad at the other.

“Sunflower…” Blake murmured into her neck, nuzzling her nose along the side of it and grinning in victory when Yang tilted it to the side slightly.

Yang sighed wearily again.

“You’re so lucky you’re this cute.” Yang laughed, turning to place a kiss to the base of an ear.

“Whiiiipped!” Came the resounding chorus from the table.

Yang merely looked at Blake and winked. Neither woman had a problem with owning that title of most whipped couple in their group.

Not when they had come so far.

#rwby #blake belladonna #bumbleby #yang xiao long #fanfic

[iwants0up]

Beehaw AU (oneshot)

Yang wiped her forehead of the sweat beading there, squinting at the distant horizon. It was mid-day and the sun was beating down on the ranch hand as she tended to her daily tasks. She was wearing a loose cotton shirt, brown suspenders, and patchy brown trousers. It was about time for her to ride into town to stop by the general store to grab some corn seed for her sister, Ruby, to plant. 

She turned back to what she had been doing, cleaning out her beloved horse’s hooves, Chestnut. She used the hoof pick to pull out a small rock that had gotten lodged and then picked up a small brush to remove a few more clumps of dirt. She repeated the process for Chestnut’s last foot then stood to get his saddle. 

Yang stopped by her house on the way, pushing open the door with a huff. “Hey, Ruby!” She called out, stepping into the kitchen where her sister was throwing something together for dinner. “Don’t worry about me, I’m going to run into town with Chestnut to get that corn seed you were wanting and I’ll stop by the saloon on my way and eat there.”

Ruby smiled cheerily, “okay! Say hello to Nora for me!”

“I will, be back in an hour or two. Bye, sis!”

“Bye!”

She got Chestnut’s saddle and strapped it securely on him, untying him from the post they had out front and hopping onto his back. “Let’s go!” She squeezed her knees together and they took off, galloping down the well-worn dirt road that leads to town.

She slowed down to a trot and then to a walk as they made their way into the heart of the small town. Seeing Nora’s Saloon, she hopped off Chestnut and tied him to a post nest to a few other horses, a trough filled with cool water sitting in front of them.

Yang made her way into the building, smiling and nodding at a few familiar faces. She sat at the bar, waiting for the chipper Nora to finish up serving another customer. 

“Hiya, Yang! What can I get for ya’?”

“One of your famous chicken sandwiches, if it’s no bother.” Yang asked politely, knowing Nora often has a lot on her plate and sometimes has no time to cook.

“No trouble at all! Today has been a bit slow, it been planting season and all.” Nora assured with a grin.

“I hope it’s no trouble for business, you know how much I love your saloon.” Yang smiled back, a hint of worry in her voice for her dear friend’s establishment.

“Nah, it’ll pick up mid-fall when harvest is coming in and people have a bit more money in their pockets.” The ginger fretted about the small kitchen she has behind the bar, putting together the meal for Yang. “Here you are,” she said a few minutes later, placing a plate in front of Yang.

The blonde grinned toothily, picking it up with both hands and digging in. “Thank you!” Yang said around a mouthful of flavorful roast chicken, tomato, and lettuce.

A few minutes later the doors swung open and closed behind a new customer. Their steps sounded across the wooden floor as Yang ate and came to a stop beside the blonde, “hey, Yang.” It said in silky, teasing tones.

Yang looked up to see Blake Belladonna, the mayor Ghira Belladonna’s daughter. “B-blake!” Yang spluttered, quickly swallowing her bite and straightening up on her stool. “How do you do, miss?”

Blake laughed, sitting down next to Yang, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m doing just fine, but please, no need to call me ‘miss’. It’s so formal.”

“O-of course, what brings you here?” Yang blushed.

“A thirst for summer ale, you?” Blake asked, leaning against the bar.

“Some dinner before I grab some seed for Ruby to plant ‘morrow. Me and our work horse, Runt, just finished plowing the fields a couple of days ago.”

Blake was in a fine black, ankle-length skirt, a dark-green blouse with purple flowers embroidered along the collar, and black high heels. Her raven hair was pulled back in a braid and her cat ears twitched happily atop her head. Yang swore her amber eyes glittered with mischief.

“What are you going to do after you get back home?” Nora set a glass of ale in front of Blake and she thanked her quietly.

“I don’t rightly know, I might whittle a bit after I get Chestnut settled in.”

Blake contemplated this for a moment, taking a sip of her drink. “How about,” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “You spend the evening at my house? J-just for supper, of course. I could use the company and my father would be happy to meet you.”

They both blushed, and Yang nodded hastily. “I - I’d love to sup with you and your family, as long as you’re sure they wouldn’t mind?”

“They wouldn’t! My mother has been hinting at me inviting someone over anyways.” Blake said excitedly.

“Okay, seven o’clock?”

“Yep!” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them grinning from ear-to-ear. Yang finished her sandwich and Blake her drink. Once they were both done, Yang stood, tilting her head in Nora’s direction before smiling at the mayor’s only child. “I better get that corn seed and get it to Ruby, see you later?”

“Absolutely,” Blake gave Yang a fast peck on the cheek, bowing her head to hide her reddened cheeks afterwards.

Yang walked out of the saloon with a grin and giddiness in her step. She was going to have dinner with Blake that night, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend her evening.

#rwby #bumblebee #bumbleby #fanfiction #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #beehaw au #fluff #yang x blake

[nicoletterogers]

an oath

trigger warnings: mentions of death, gun violence, survivors guilt, gun shot wounds

“Liam?”

Her own voice startled her as she called out into the familiar, empty apartment. everything was exactly the way she remembered it--piles of newspaper stacked messily on the chair by the door, jackets strewn over the couch waiting for nic to get tired of the mess and put them away. there even was the familiar smell of something cooking--for whatever reason, liam had gotten the culinary gene share for both himself and nic, and he put it to good use. it’s why family dinners were always at his place and nic was in charge of bringing the frozen garlic bread. or whatever bread side they were having. 

Tonight smelled like ziti though, which made sense why she held a long loaf of Great Value frozen garlic bread in her hand. she always preferred this version to the boxed texas toast--it felt more authentic she’d tell liam when he’d beg her for a box of that. he’d relent, always--because she was his little sister and that was the way the universe worked. at least in terms of garlic bread. 

Nic stepped cautiously into the kitchen, clutching the long loaf tighter than usual. Something didn’t feel...right, about this set up. Her eyes traced the kitchen, her detective senses triggered by the uncomfortable sensation in her chest. her vision swept the background before the began their inspection of the counters--knives, onions, san marzano tomato cans (liam only ever made fresh tomato sauce, he didn’t do the pre-made stuff). all normal, all nor--wait. her eyes caught the date on the clock in the corner and she dropped her garlic bread immediately. may 13, 2018. 

may 13, 2018. no, no it can’t be. she blinked. may 13, 2018, the clock still read and her heart stopped. 

“Liam!” she called, her voice more frantic. it felt familiar because it was familiar--it was the worst day of her life.  “Liam--Liam!” she tore through the apartment into his bedroom, where a completely confused Liam Rogers looked at her. 

“Nic? You good?” he asked, unlacing his shoes. Nic remembered that he specifically asked for sunday nights off, but since the station was working a particularly big case, he had to work earlier in the day to support. He stopped fiddling with his laces when he caught sight of her face. “Hey--hey, what’s going on?” god, she missed his voice. his voice alone almost sent her into tears. 

“I--” she couldn’t get words out. She couldn’t get anything out, because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and never let go. “You’re still here.” Nic breathed and threw herself onto him...only to have the scene disappear and she left holding herself in a dark alley. 

Her stomach tightened and she shook her head. No, no no no. She repeated. This was some kind of sick and twisted dream--why was she here? Voices began to surround her and she ran to hide behind some trashcans on the side. nic peaked her head through a small opening and listened to her coworkers start talking 

“Oh--oh my god.” Detective Peraltiago breathed. “Fuck.” They weren’t supposed to curse on the job, but she didn’t blame him--how could anyone blame him? He was standing over his former coworker and one of his closest friends over the station. “Captain!” He called gruffly, moving quickly to escape the emotions that threatened to overtake him. “Captain, I need you here now.” 

The tone of his voice must have signaled something was definitely not right and Nic had never seen Captain Gerhardt move so fast in his life. Silence followed as she watched the two men take in the scene. Finally, Captain Gerhardt spoke into his walkie. “We’ve got a 151(a1)--corner of Michigan and 51st. Detective Liam Rogers, unresponsive, two gunshot wounds in the chest, no witnesses or perpetrators.” His voice sounded hard, clinical--and Nic felt her entire body grow cold. 

She used to think hearing about what happened on the phone was the worst way to learn--but she had been wrong. Where she stood now, looking into the scene itself--that was worse. 

“Someone’s gonna need to call Nic.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait before we--” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you know how she--”

“Captain?”

Another long silence, before it was cut short by her cell phone ringing. The groups attention flew to the trashcans but before she could make out their shouting, the scene changed again, and she was sitting on a cold stone bench in the rain.

Nic was dressed in all black--but not her usual attire. for the first time in a long time, she was in a dress. a simple black dress, but a dress nonetheless. if liam was here, she thought, he’d laugh and ask her why she thought to dress up for him. But in all honestly, she didn’t have many words to say today at all. The funeral had ended hours ago, her coworkers had left in the big black cars, even her father had made his way to grieve separately. But Nic stayed. She’d stay until she was told to leave. No amount of rain could make her move--but this was not by choice. She had found she was stuck, unable to get herself to stand or do anything but stare at the headstone directly in front of her. 

Rest In Peace Liam Samuel Rogers. April 4, 1986 to May 13, 2018. Beloved Son, Brother, and Officer.

Her eyes constantly read the gravestone, taking in the words as if she had never read them before. The pain was still as fresh for this version of Nic than it was for the version that sat there on the actual day of the funeral. Tears dropped like bullets from a machine gun onto her folded up hands, adding to the rain that was drizzling heavily over her. 

“Why did you have to go so soon?” she screamed at the grave, her ability to control her emotions becoming obsolete. “I needed you! I needed you more than you could have ever imagined and you just left!” 

Silence. 

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. You promised me when you took this damn job you wouldn’t leave! We had plans, Liam. You were supposed to be the fun uncle, the one that taught my kids how to sneak cookies from the cookie jar and swear when I wasn’t looking! They were supposed to love you more than me and I was supposed to get into fights with you about it! Family dinners were going to get bigger, and you were gonna find someone to marry too--so then I could be the cool aunt and exact my revenge!” She wailed, dropping her face into her hands.

“You were supposed to be there the night he cheated, Liam. I was supposed to have you to comfort me. You were supposed to be in your apartment and I could go and eat ice cream and brood and not talk about anything and we could watch Jeopardy together. Or Who’s Line is it anyway. or whatever documentary you felt like you wanted to watch. And we’d sit in silence and i’d feel better. I’d be ok because I know you’d be here.

“But you left--you left with no goodbye, no warning. You walked out of that apartment and you never walked back in. I lost a piece of myself that day that I’ll never get back. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have never let you walk through that door, I should have never made you take out the trash. If I can’t protect you, Liam--who can I protect? I can’t protect you, I can’t protect Rowan, I can’t protect Gabe or Mig or Venice or Ruby or...anyone! Liam i couldn’t protect my brother, what makes me think I’m good for anything or any one!”

A strangled cry broke through her throat and Nic fell into the mud, her whole body wracked with sobs. Sobs she had been holding in for the last two years, over every imaginable piece of grief she could hold on too. her life had been one big cover up and now she could no longer cover it up. there was too much grief, too much sorrow, too much pain to hold onto any longer. 

so there she sad, full of mud, leaves and soaked by the rain that finally matched her inner turmoil. as the emotional tsunami passed, she lifted her glassy bright eyes to the headstone and sighed. 

“Liam, I--” another sob passed her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

immediately, nic woke up with a gasp. she looked over at gabe, who seemed blissfuly unaware of her nighmare. good, she thought and slowly slipped out of the bed and onto the porch. tonight she’d sleep on the patio, among the gently swish of the wind and waves. perhaps then she might be able to be peaceful. or, perhaps, at least she could avoid waking her best friend up and ruining his sleep. if she couldn’t do anything else in her life right, at least she could do this. 

nic settles into a chair and takes a deep breathe. maybe she’d skip the sleep tonight--out here she couldn’t harm anyone else. at least for the next couple hours anyway.

( @malnatimedia​ )

#tw death #tw survivors guilt #tw gun violence #tw gun shot wounds #[[wake up sunshine; headcannons]] #oof

[arbeaone]

For “Great British Baking Show” Contestants, The Real Loss is the Endless Trolling

by Rae Robey Published on December 2, 2019 at 11:51am

Against the vast backdrop of high-octane and anxiety-inducing cooking competition television programs, The Great British Baking Show is an aberration. Internationally beloved for its affable contestants and endless supply of baking-themed anglicisms—“soggy bottoms” and “saucy puds” abound—the show follows a dozen or so home bakers as they compete to be named Britain’s best amateur baker. When the 2019 season premiered with a record-breaking 9.6 million viewers, each contestant was thrust into the public eye; most have racked up tens of thousands of Instagram followers since the season began in August. For American audiences in particular, The Great British Baking Show’s intrinsic wholesomeness makes it a cultural phenomenon: We could never be so well-mannered in a televised competition, but we do enjoy pretending.

The Great British Baking Show is, at most, an estranged cousin to American cutthroat cooking competitions like Chopped, Iron Chef, or even Cupcake Wars. In the Baking Show tent, contestants help each other finish their bakes, are graceful (even grateful!) in defeat, and despair when their purported rivals are dismissed from the competition. Each episode is predicated on kindness, love, support, and the freely-given home-baked comforts of the feminine domestic realm. Even the grand prize—a cake stand and some flowers, no cash—highlights the show’s near-pathological humility. Produced by a team called Love Productions, decency is, we can only assume, woven into the show’s DNA. But when Baking Show airs on TV, long after the last bun is iced and the final bap prodded, the trolling begins.

Each season, the bakers spend months immersed in icing sugar, bavarois, and ganache, frantically preparing for the 30 challenges of the competition. In addition to the generalized stress of executing difficult pastry skills while trying to impress professional judges on an international stage, the bakers are told by producers that they’ll likely deal with some backlash from a handful of disproportionately peeved viewers. After all, it’s a competition. But the backlash goes beyond competition, and, despite the warning, most bakers are blindsided by the frequency and ferocity of their trolling. And though adoring fans are certainly in the majority, online trolls yell the loudest. Stacey Hart, a Season 8 semifinalist, dealt with severe online harassment as soon as the season began airing. “I’m smug, I’m a bitch, I’m a worthless piece of shit, I’m a useless baker,” Hart told Bitch, describing the comments that strangers sent her. “[The show] was the best experience and the best thing—at the time—that I ever did. It became the worst thing I ever did.” Trolls loathed her pink, glittery bakes and how often she brought up motherhood; their caustic DMs and comments drove her into a months-long depression. “I’m quite a self-conscious person anyway, and it made me question myself,” says Hart. “Am I good enough?”

Before Hart, there was Ruby Tandoh, a Season 4 runner-up who was deemed a “filthy slag” who traded sexual favors and weaponized “female tears” for preferential judging. Tandoh wrote a piece for The Guardian in October 2013 describing the waves of “lazy misogyny” that followed each episode’s release, but shining light on the problem change much for future contestants. Claire Goodwin, the first to leave the tent in Season 5, was inundated with fat-shaming comments. Season 6 winner Nadiya Hussain, a first-generation British Bangladeshi, was told to “go home” on Twitter. Candice Browne, winner of Season 7, regularly endured comments from strangers who “fucking hate Candice, reckon she’s a right bitch.”

In a 2018 joint study with Element AI, Amnesty International named online trolling of women a human rights violation—one that social media platforms like Twitter continuously refuse to be held accountable for. The trolling of Baking Show contestants generally reflects the Amnesty International findings: White women are trolled hard, but women of color are trolled harder. Commenting on the viciousness of a particularly nasty troll, Hussain offered a succinct explanation: “I’m Muslim, brown, working-class and a woman! I may as well have ‘punching bag’ written on my torso.” In general, men are less likely to be trolled and, instead, are more likely to be trolls themselves, due to years of learned misogyny and—according a Brunel University and Goldsmiths, University of London report—a higher rate of narcissism. But on Baking Show, trolling often extends to the men with nearly as much vitriol and regularity as it does to the women.

Dan Beasley-Harling, a 2018 contestant and self-identified “gay-at-home dad” received the overwhelming bulk of Season 8’s cumulative harassment. “It was about five weeks of people just saying horrible things about me constantly. I had some really overtly homophobic comments,” says Beasley-Harling, referring to unoriginal jabs about queer sex and the suitability of a queer parent. Trolls can generally find a problem with any woman, but two types of bakers stand out as exceptionally deserving of harassment: women who don’t land neatly in the realm of palatable, perfect femininity, and men who aren’t stereotypically masculine. Beasley-Harling’s experience suggests that Baking Show trolls might take a more nuanced approach to their vocation.

Perhaps it’s not just about harassing women online—it’s about re-establishing gendered power dynamics and punishing those who flirt with the domestic on public-facing platforms. Domestic work has historically been an unpaid at-home venture delegated to women, so Baking Show contestants are either women overstepping their household boundaries or men crossing gendered labor lines. For a troll, either is a damnable offense. But with each record-smashing episode, Baking Show subverts the assumptions of where femininity belongs, who it belongs to, and how much it’s worth—roughly £24.2 million in predicted revenue. Still, exploitation is often and easily disguised as empowerment. Lest we forget, Baking Show contestants aren’t paid, and the grand “prize” has little to no real-world value.

To an extent, we all participate in the uninformed and unkind public judging that trolls have championed. We experience celebrities and public figures—especially women—as dehumanized subjects ripe for public dissection, each one existing in a vacuum sealed behind a screen. After all, the Baking Show contestants are filmed, edited, and packaged by professionals into easily digestible archetypes for the sake of a comprehensible and compelling storyline. For example, the latest season featured Michael Chakraverty as the optimistic goofball, Steph Blackwell as the irrationally insecure savant, and Helena Garcia as the spooky, whimsical free spirit. While these personas are fully inspired by who the bakers actually are, they’re ultimately deployed to create drama and tension where it doesn’t exist—that’s just the mandate of reality-TV editing.

But trolls live in the extreme, and for them the editing spurs online abuse. Beasley-Harling, for example, saw the trolling as a direct extension of Love Production’s editing. “I felt like the editing choices were very much treating me like collateral damage,” Beasley-Harling says. “I phoned Love Productions and said, ‘I don’t think you’re representing me fairly, I understand why people don’t like me.’ And they said, ‘No, you’re crazy, everyone’s getting a fair, balanced view on the show. It’s all in your head.’” Gaslighting, the Old Faithful of emotional abuse is regularly deployed against women, people of color, the LGBTQ community and other marginalized groups, is remarkably efficient at restabilizing power dynamics—exactly what trolls seek to do. A representative for Love Productions stated via email that: “Love Productions has always taken contributor care seriously and has robust protocols in place to protect and support those taking part in our shows throughout production and after transmission. These protocols evolve to acknowledge and address the changing media landscape and scrutiny.”

Depending on who you ask, however, the robustness of their protocols fluctuates. According to Beasley-Harling, past contestants have speculated that the Love Productions team tailors their level of attention and support based on the profitability of the contestant in question. After leaving the tent halfway through the competition, Beasley-Harling felt like Love Productions was less interested in protecting its contestants from trolling when money was to be made elsewhere, a behavior not dissimilar to reality television at large. “I barely left my house for three months. I was a shitty parent for three months,” Beasley-Harling says, describing the impact of his trolling. “To me, that felt like, ‘We’ve used you for the entertainment value and now we’re disposing of you.’” But Hart, the semifinalist who received the brunt of Season 8’s trolling and suffered a depressive period similar to Beasley-Harling’s, found Love Productions reassuring throughout airing.

“Every time I called them, they were wonderful. Didn’t matter what time of day,” says Hart. But she does concede that the emotional scarring from her online abuse outlasted Love’s self-proclaimed robust protocols. “They’ve got no idea how it’s affected me to this day,” says Hart. “I don’t think that’s their problem anymore, is it?” It remains to be seen how this year’s cohort of bakers will fare. Airing in the United Kingdom continued through October, and this year’s crop of bakers appear as chipper as ever, even online. So far, trolling appears to be minimal—maybe the bakers can avoid it if they subscribe more closely to normative gender expectations. “When I went on the Bake Off I wasn’t worried about my hair or my makeup or what I was wearing,” says Hart. “Maybe if I had made more of an effort, people would have been nicer to me.”

#Bitch Media #Bitch Magazine #The Great British Bake Off #The Great British Baking Show #`❦

[lance-kitkat]

Is there gonna be a part 3 of the soulmate au?

Keith came back from his regular workout and run around the local park, sweat clinging to his shirt from all the exercise. Ever since his argument with Lance inside the school’s gym and outburst about not being anyone’s first choice, Keith never went back.

Gossip spreads around a lot, and something as juicy and entertaining as this is definitely going to be talked about. He already had  looks and murmurs whenever he walked the campus in between classes which was getting annoying and tedious dealing with the looks of pity and the offers of meaningless sex from soulmarkless guys.

And the things that he usually did to comfort himself when he had a bad day or stressful week wouldn’t help at all. It would only be a cruel reminder of the hope that used to have. What he’d normally do is a Disney movie marathon. He would lay next to Lance in their blanket pile in the living room, eating some kettle corn and singing loudly to the songs that play.

Now seeing any movie involving “true love” and “fairy tale princes” would only bring even more tears to his eyes. He’s done  enough crying for a lifetime. There is only so many times he could ask Shiro to buy him more tissues and cookies before even he wasn’t going to let him wallow in tears anymore.

Which is why when his brother threw his jogging clothes at him a hour ago. He woke him up from his long nap saying, “Get your lazy ass out of bed and work off all the birthday cake and ice cream! There’s only so much empty ice cream buckets I can see in the trash before I wonder if you still have any more lactaid pills! Now go, shoo!”

He goes through two buckets of ice cream and suddenly his brother is concerned about his lactose intolerance pills consumption.

Opening up the door to their shared house and finding it devoid of any people wasn’t anything surprising since Shiro was currently spending time with his boyfriends. Heading up to his bedroom and setting his gym bag to the side, he opened up his drawer just to find that it was empty of the expected clothes. The state of the other shelves, his closet, and even the dirty laundry basket was absent of any clothes that he could have changed into.

It seemed that his “beloved” brother planned from the start when he suggested he go  to the gym for a work out. No doubt his boyfriends helped him out in the theft of his clothes.

He was going to get back at them for this. Maybe with a off of their eyebrows.

Attempting to try to break into his brother’s room was thwarted by a well timed text from said person saying that he took his clothes too as he suspected that this could happen.  He would put the lockpicking lessons with Adam to good use if there were actually any reason to go in there, since his asshole of a brother made sure to strip the entire apartment of anything wearable, even his own room.

Keith was going to make his hair match his old age and that tuft of hair if it was the last thing he did but for now, stealing from his snack stash would have to suffice.

Before could even start his siege on the pantry for the not so hidden oreo stash, he noticed a envelope taped to the door. His name was written in neat cursive on a light blue envelope.

Looking around suspiciously for any hidden cameras, Keith reluctantly opened up the envelope and read its contents aloud.

“The honor of your presence is requested at the Starlight Ball, a fairytale brought to life. The prince hopes to see the esteemed guest of honor grace everyone in his best attire as fitting of his beautiful personality.” Keith muttered before before throwing the card onto the table, tears threatening to fall as it just reminded him that life wasn’t going to be the storybook tale that he dreamed of having..“If this is some sort of prank, Shiro, I’m not falling for it! Fairy tales and Prince Charmings don’t exist and it’s cruel of you to send me something like this!” he yelled.

He’s infuriated. From his clothes getting stolen to the stupid card mocking him over his heartbreak. It’s a cruel reminder that he was never meant to have a soulmate. That Lance would never have loved him anyway… if he had, he would have already come by with his beat up blue car as soon as he found out that they shared soulmarks.

It had been more than a week since it happened. He wasn’t ready to entertain the possibility of a secret admirer wanting to be his new “prince” . He preferred to just wallow in his tears or angrily hit something non-sentient. Or whoever was the shitlord of a higher being that was responsible for fucking with his already miserable life by ringing the doorbell incessantly. If someone came up to his face saying that they were his guardian angel or fairy godmother or some bull crap, they were going to get a fist to their face.

Opening up the door to give them more than a mindful for messing with him, he didn’t expect to see Allura. She’s dressed up in a white shimmering dress that adorned with gems making it sparkle in the dark. Her long hair was delicately pinned up and curled, framing her masked face, making her look more sublime than she already was.

Keith stared at her with his mouth agape at how ethereal she looked. He was so struck by her standing in front of his house that he didn’t notice the box that she was holding in her hand. Only by waving her realistic looking wand in front of his face did she catch his attention, his violet eyes looking up at her blue ones.

“Allura, what the heck are you doing here dressed up like that?” he said, gesturing to her entire outfit with confusion.

“Ah ah ah, I’m not this Allura that you speak of but rather your Fairy Godmother for the night. I am here to get you ready for the ball!” she said enthusiastically before pushing her way inside the house, nudging him with the corner of the box over and over.

“I know it’s you so stop this stupid Fairy Godmother crap. And stop poking me with that stupid box! I’m not going to that stupid ball or party or whatever it is!” he yelled out, shoving the box away from his side, noting that it said Dylan’s Fairytale Fashions.

Looking at him disgruntled, she tapped him on the top of his head with her wand before saying, “You are going to the ball whether you like it or not! And if I must force you, I shall!” She said smugly, showing the kitchen fiasco at last year’s Thanksgiving, an event that only very few people were privy to.

There is a reason why Allura never lets Keith and Shiro cook anymore, due to the event Lotor dubbed the “Broganes Explosive Thanksgiving of 2014.” Everyone knew that Shiro wasn’t the best with but the pair naively thought that Keith would be able to make it at least edible.

Oh how wrong they were.

The pictures of that fateful night showed the entire kitchen in disarray: with the crockpot exploded and its contents dripping on the floor, the counters a complete mess, and Kosmo on top of the table as he demolished the turkey.

Scratch shaving Shiro’s eyebrows. He’d just make sure that his older brother won’t be able to populate the world with his spawn, using their weekly dodgeball game as a excuse to maim him . He’d apologize to Adam later, once he was done being mad at Shiro. Right in that moment, he glared at Allura who was barely batting at eye at his glowering face., It was almost as if she couldn’t tell that he was willing her dress and that box to catch on fire. That or she didn’t care. She knew that she had the upper hand.

Glaring at her for a few more seconds, he eventually caved and yanked the box out of her hands. He ignored her excited giggle before he stomped his way up to his room and tossed the box onto the bed before forcing it open. Tossing the tissue paper towards the trash can, he took out the outfit from the box.

Staring at the ruby suit jacket in front of his eyes. It was embroidered with care at the ends of his sleeves, and uncomplicated white design, beautiful in it’s simplicity. She must have known Keith wasn’t particularly fond of anything flashy and eye catching. In fact, within the entire outfit, the majority of it was simple in a beautiful way. With a black shirt and pants to go with his ruby vest and jacket.

What caught his eyes the most was the light blue mask and flower that was underneath the outfit. It somehow didn’t clash with the style of the outfit. He put on the provided clothes and saw how he looked into the mirror. Keith had to admit, that looked really good in it, tailored to his body in all the right places.

There was no denying that he certainly looked like he came out of a fairy tale with the way he dressed. Almost as if he was actually was going to a ball to meet his one and only…

Just because his ‘Fairy Godmother’ was forcing him to go to the ball didn’t mean that he had to actually meet his ‘Prince Charming’ and dance away into the night with him. He could just go for the free food and call it a good night. That said , he should at least wrangle up his hair into something manageable. So he tied  it up before walking out into the living room.

Seeing that Allura was still standing there and with a giddy look on her face, he frowned as he tapped his foot impatiently.

“Since you are so eager to make go to this ball, I assume that you have a way for me to get there? Or do you expect me to go there on my motorcycle?” he huffed.

“There is no possible way that I would let you ruin that outfit that was painstakingly made just for you by going on your motorcycle! Your ride is waiting for you outside!”

And in a flurry of a crapton of dress floof and almost being taken down by Allura’s voluminous hair, he followed after her with a resigned sigh. He stepped out of his apartment, making sure to lock it behind him before turning to look at his ride.

There’s  a grandiose carriage in front of him, elegant in its silver and gold design. And true to the theme of Cinderella, footmen and a driver for the carriage were waiting for him, the door already opened for him to enter the simple but elegant seating.

He turned to look at Allura with wide eyes before asking, “You really didn’t hold back when you prepared for this did you?”

She smiled before pulling him into a hug, replying, “Don’t be afraid to try something new just because you were hurt and afraid of what the future holds. Have courage, Keith.”

As she stepped back, Keith looked at her nervously. He was afraid of what was waiting for him if he did go to the ball and it didn’t go as was expected… or that the night would go exactly as it should.

Maybe it would be worth it to take a risk and try to at least see where it went. He may even fall in love with his admirer over time if he let himself be open up to the idea again…

He looked at the grand carriage in front of him and what it actually symbolized. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. Perhaps what he needed wasn’t the idea of falling in love with a soulmate but being open to the idea of falling with someone real. Someone that didn’t fit his mold of what a soulmate was supposed to be, letting himself be open to seeking his own happiness instead of waiting for it.

All he had left to do was step inside to the next chapter of his story.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #klance #laith #leith #lance (voltron) #keith (voltron) #soulmark au #part 3 #kitkatwrites #kitkat writes #kitkat post #fanfiction #vld fanfic #magicalmusing

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #4: Napoleonic Cindrella

Disclaimer: all materials belong to their respective owners. This is a parody for fun. Please support the official release.

Director by: xxxDreamingflowerxxx

Written by: Republic Empire

Requested by: xxxDreamingflowerxxx

Story by: Republic Empire and xxxDreamingflowerxxx

It has minor occurances with cuss words, but have a nice reading time…

Republic Empire Theater of Parodies presents:

“Once upon a time in Europe in the age of Napoleon’s reign whom he rules the French Empire. After the war of First Coalition, Napoleon demanded peace [1]. Now, all of Europe is at peace. Meanwhile at France, a certain girl named Crystal, who lives with her father as he has given her everything she needs. But he worried that she needed a mother-figure. He married to a… *cough*… a woman of her status, Lady Clair with her two snobby daughters, Whitney and Sabrina. They lived… ‘Happy’ for a while, but in the year of 1810 [2], Crystal’s father died. After the dead of Crystal’s beloved father, Lady Clair revealed her true self; she was vain and jealous of Crystal’s gentle and intellectual nature. Lady Clair reduced Crystal into a housemaid with no pay [3].

Later on since Napoleon had no son [4] as heir to take the throne after his retirement or death. He was, upon by advice by Josephine; Napoleon’s wife, to adopt one of their nephews to take his place until, he found the right heir. He adopted Gold; one of his nephews, his now stepson who has an unusual case of having Golden eyes.

“This is our story begins” The Narrator says with exclaims with a sigh. “I’m not getting paid enough for this job…”

Cinderella

France, 1815

Peace has known for the French people for over 10 years since the battle of Austerlitz [5]. No war has distracted them, everyone has live their business and the economy has never been better. Somewhere, in a certain mansion, where a certain girl lives in the upper rooms, near the roof lays Crystal sleeping so peacefully until the sound of a bell ringing woke her up.

“Argh” Crystal woke up with hint of drowsiness.

“Another day is another day to work. Clean, work, helping the Professor, and more work. I wish I was free to do as I please. What’s the chance that would happen to a girl like me?” Crystal sigh as she got dressed in a maid’s dress.

At the floor of Crystal’s, we go to a mouse-hole, where we meet our mice couple; Sapphire and Ruby, also a… ‘Happy living… family’ [6]

“RUBY, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?” Sapphire screamed in anger.

“What? It’s like 7 in the morning? What are you screaming about?” Ruby replied while rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“I have worked my ass out to make this!” Sapphire points the breakfast in the table.

“You can cook?” Ruby asked surprised.

Sapphire face palms in disbelief and attempts to beat her husband up.

“NO wait! Argh!” Ruby screams in pain begging his 'oww’ so loving’ wife to spare him the pain and mental injuries that she always inflicts on him. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone for a while.

“I am your narrator, a generic voice with no……"Narrator [7] tells the audience until….

"Excuse me, who are you?” Crystal asked with confused look [8].

Anyway, meet Crystal; our main Protagonist of this Cinderella version for this theater and…"Narrator further tells the audience.

“Then what you are doing?” Crystal asked again.

“Look, just ignore me, but you do need to do what I tell you. It’s part of the story.” Narrator tells to Crystal [9]. Crystal just nods confused and continues her acting. “I have a bad feeling about this.” She mumbled softly.

“Anyway, our dear Crystal was to work for her evil stepmother, Clair and her spoiled bitchy, good for nothing stepchildren: Whitney and Sabrina. She works day and night to serve them, but together with her sisters, she goes to the best High School in all of Europe. A high school, really? Can’t the director come up with a better idea? Oh, it’s part of the story? Um, ok. Meanwhile blah… While the narrator explains the story, we turn our attention to someone who is entering Napoleon’s palace on his horse.

We meet the crown prince of Imperial France, Gold. When his father died, his mother had to raise him on her own. He is Napoleon’s nephew by blood and a few years before the battle in Austerlitz, Napoleon adopted Gold. Also from his birth parents side Gold is a French nobleman with Corsican roots.

"This is Gold, the Crown Prince. He is the designated to become heir to the Throne. Napoleon adopted him, because Josephine was unable to bear children. But he has unbecoming as a prince. What brings the attentions of the Emperor?” As the Narrator is telling the story, Gold enters the room with Napoleon waiting for him along with Josephine.

“Explain.” Napoleon asked to Gold with disappointment.

“Explain what, Uncle?” Gold replied with hint of curiosity and amusement,

Napoleon points out the newspaper on the table. Gold looks at it which the newspaper says, “Crown Prince gone wild.” showing Gold’s antics like gambling and drunken brawls [10]. “I can explain that.” Gold stated.

“How can you explain, when all the monarchies of Europe are LAUGHING AT ME?!” Napoleon shouted in anger. “This is the last time, I catch you doing this!” Napoleon said to Gold. Josephine calms down her husband.

“If you send another tutor, forget it.” Gold replied with huff. “I got a better idea. You should know I have built the first High School in all Europe. And you will be sent there to learn, there’s a professor willing to tutor you! If you don’t agree, then I’ll send the army with you.” Napoleon told Gold. There’s going to be a tough day ahead of him.

“And so Napoleon sent Gold to High School so he could be re-educated. What was waiting for him? Damn, why is it that everything has to be so cliché [11]? A prince who is acting like a delinquent and a girl abused by her stepmother and step sisters. Ladies and Gentlemen, this story is going to suck. Back to the crappy story, Gold enters the room where Professor Oak waits.” Narrator explains.

“Welcome, your highness. I’m professor Oak. I study mechanics of nature and….” Professor oak was about to explain until…

“Boring.” Gold said loudly. Professor Oak blinked in surprised upon hearing the prince’s statement.

“This is going to be a long session.” The professor mumbled.

“I wonder how it’s going to be old man; I hope it won’t be all…” Gold was about to say more until the door open.

“Sorry for being late Professor.” Crystal apologized when she came in. Gold was stunned upon seeing the girl; she looked like an angel send from heaven. He stared blankly at her. “Professor, who is he?” Crystal asked.

“Oh, this is the nephew of your highness Napoleon, himself.” Professor told the girl. “Crown prince, he doesn’t look like one.” Crystal huffed.

“Hey! I am the prince! When I take the throne, I can do whatever I want!” Gold responded proudly with a smug on his face.

“Yeah, like a kid.” Crystal replied back to him.

Gold frowned “Don’t tell you are like those super serious gals?” He asked her.

“What’s wrong being serious?” Crystal angrily replied.

“Now now, do calm down. Crystal, can you do those reports while I teach the Crown prince.” The Professor asked as he gives her the papers. Crystal leaves them alone as she begins to work.

“Oi Professor, who is she?” Gold asked. “Oh, that’s my assistant, Crystal.” Professor Oak answered. “Crystal? It sounds pretty hot for a workaholic.” Gold said as he and Crystal are making funny faces to mock each other.

“Gold and Professor Oak resume their lesson, while Crystal does her work. This routine continues for 20 days. That’s until…You know what I am not going to saying anything more, since we have to switch back from our chat-based writing style due of the guidelines. You know screw this. Let’s continue this.” Narrator told to the Audience.

Gold sat down in his seat, the Professor hadn’t arrived yet and the golden eyes boy wondered why. “Why am I still going to this stupid tutoring?” Gold asked himself. After a while Professor Oak finally arrives. “Where have you been?” Gold asked, clearly showing his annoyance.

“I won’t able to tutor you, because there’s an important research I have to go to. But rest assured, my assistant will tutor for about 5 days. Crystal, you know what to do.” Professor Oak said as he left the room [12].

“Yes, Professor.” Crystal replied, refusing to show any sign of annoyance on her face and voice.

Gold got a bad feeling about this. The minute Oak left, she turned around to face Gold himself with a stern look on her face. “I got news for you buster. I’m not here to have chit-chat with you. We are strict-time, any questions?” Crystal asked Gold.

“Yeah, can I leave early?” Gold asked.

Crystal scratched her head. “Um, let me see…no. Professor Oak trusted me to tutor you. I will tutor you, one way or another. Let’s start with this.” Crystal responded in a serious tone.

“Crystal gave the Crown prince a hard time. Sometimes she even had to physical abuse the prince to get him to listen to her.” The Narrator said.

“Ow, why you hit me?” Gold asked with his hand on his already bandaged head.

“No sleeping in class! You should stop staying up so late in night!” Crystal told him in a hint of anger.

“Why you so serious all the time” Gold asked.

“And why are you so lazy and stupid?! Some Future Emperor of France you are.” Crystal responded back to him.

“Hey! I’m not like you. Miss Perfect!” Gold angrily yelled back to Crystal. That actually hurt Crystal.

“Oh, you think I live a perfect life? What about you? Living in a castle? With servants you can get what you want? And….me, a maid to my stepmother and being treated like dirt by my step sisters.” Crystal shouted at Gold angrily. The poor guy flinched by surprise.

“Sorry, I didn't…” Gold was about to say until….

“Get out of here! I don’t want to see you again! I will tell the Professor, you failed!” Crystal yelled. After a short while Gold left the room with a painful feeling in his chest.

“Thus things have become hard and complicated, but our Crown Prince felt guilty and decided to come back the next day.” Narrator told to the audience [13].

Crystal comes in as she puts on the lab coat until….

“I’m ready.” Gold said which surprised Crystal, who was unaware that he was in the room.

“Why are you here?! What you want?!” Crystal asked angrily.

“I’m here to apologize and I wanted to be tutored. I didn’t mean it the other day. Can we have this show on the road?” Gold asked to Crystal which she smiled a bit.

“Sure and apology accepted.” Crystal sighed. Gold sat down and the girl starts with her lessons.

“Thus Crystal tutors the Crown Prince, Gold in Science, philosophy, mathematics, and nature itself and during that time, the Prince slowly begins to fall for her. When Professor Oak came back to resume their session, Oak was amazed what great job the Crown Prince has done. But one night, the Crown Prince was writing an anonymous letter to Crystal. He drops off the letter before Oak or Crystal arrive; he sends her letters as her secret admirer. Until one day when Crystal absent from the classroom…"Narrator said.

"Hey, Old Man. Where’s super serious gal?” Gold asked. “Oh, she has errands to do. Why you asked?” Professor Oak asked the young prince.

“Oh, nothing.” Gold answers as he sneaks around to drop off the letter, but sadly for Gold the Professor had his suspicions since a few days.

“So, you’re the secret admirer, eh?” Professor Oak said as he notices the letter the prince was trying to hide.

“Please, don’t tell her. It’s just since a few weeks ago… I like her, okay?” Gold told the Professor.

“Don’t worry your secret is safe with me. She’s having a hard time, being a maid in her own home.” Professor Oak told Gold that.

“Why is that?” Gold asked.

“It all happened when her father died; her stepmother became head of the house and forced her to become a maid.” The professor explained.

“After hearing the story from the professor, the young prince saw his tutor in a whole new light and respected the girl even more. A few days later, back at the Mansion…"Narrator said.

We see Crystal working hard to cook and clean the house. "Crystal! Where’s the food?” Whitney asked arrogantly. “Coming�� Crystal responded annoyed [14].

Unbeknownst to Crystal was that the mice couple was watching the girl every second.

“Poor Crystal.” Sapphire sighed.

“I wish there was something we could do for her?” Ruby mused. He was worried for the girl.

The family dog names Diamond or Dia for short came in and spotted the mouse couple. Dia was the gentlest dog you’d ever see. His hobbies were eating, keeping an eye on Crystal and listening to the quarrels of the mice.

“What’s going on?” Dia asked the mice couple.

“Its poor Crystal, she has to do everything that her evil step sisters and stepmother tell her to do. On top of that she’s also assistant of Professor Oak. All that work will kill her someday” Ruby explain to the dog.

“I feel sorry for her.” Dia responded.

The stared at the girl for a while, until the family’s cat arrived; Platinum [15]. Thought she may look mean, Platinum is good friends with Diamond and the mice couple, Ruby and Sapphire and like the three she’s very worried about Crystal. “What’s wrong with Crystal? I haven’t seen her like this for a long time.” Platinum said.

“She’s been working too much. I feel so sorry for her” Sapphire told the cat.

“But hasn’t she accepted this since the death of her father?” Platinum wondered.

“At least it can’t become any worse than it is, right?” Dia asked.

The animals keep talking with a while, until their conversation gets interrupted by a knock on the door. Crystal and the animals looked up surprised.

“Coming!” Crystal answered.

She opened the door and gets greeted by the mailman. “Good day miss, I have letters from the Emperor, himself. Have a nice day.” The Mailman hands over the letters to Crystal and leaves. Crystal closes the door and looks at the letters. She decided to go upstairs to tell her stepmother about the news.

“Crystal, what it is this time?” Clair asked the girl.

“Letters from the Emperor.” Crystal answered. She hands the letters to Lady Clair. Her step sisters, who stopped with their singing lesson hurried over to their mother, curious about the letters.

“It’s an invitation to a ball for the Prince’s engagement to the Princess of Portugal. And all the monarchies are invited as well” Clair said.

“Engagement ball?!” both Sabrina and Whitney shouted in surprise.

While the two stepsister start talking about what dresses they should wear, Crystal had her eyes glued on the invitation. “Can I come?” Crystal asked, curious about Gold’s engagement.

“Of course you can, only if you finish your work.” Clair told to Crystal.

Crystal nodded in joy that she could finally have something to be eager about after she finishes, sadly she had too much work to do and she wasn’t able to finish. The step sisters and the stepmother left for the ball leaving a disappointed Crystal alone.

“Why did this happen?” Crystal wondered sadly as she looked at all the work she still had to do. “I thought I could finish it all, go to the ball and ask Gold for an explanation. Why didn’t he told me anything about the engagement?”

One day ago….

“Sorry for coming later Professor.” Crystal apologies as she comes into the room. She looks around to see if she could spot a certain person, but it was only her and Professor Oak. “Where’s Gold?” Crystal asked. “Oh, he left before you came in.” Professor Oak answered.

Disappointed Crystal grabs the pile of papers and starts to work.

“I must say that boy has taken an interest in you, I wonder he’s your secret admirer…!” Professor Oak muses softly.

Crystal snorted. “Professor, that’s absurd. He’s a prince and I’m just a…” She trailed off.

“Just a maid?” Professor Oak asked his assistant.

“Yes, sir, a low-class maid.” Crystal responded with hint of sadness [16].

“Crystal, he’s worrying about you. Most of the time when he’s here, he asks about you instead of actually learning something. He even begged me once to have you tutor him. Did something happened while I was gone?” Professor Oak asked Crystal.

Crystal shook the feeling she was starting to feel and cleared her throat. “Sir, there’s nothing going on with two of us.”

“Well, I’m heading to the ball tomorrow and you’ll take a day off.” Professor Oak told Crystal.

“I want to go. I wonder why the Professor thinks that Gold is my secret admirer. If only I could go to the ball and ask him myself, but how? I don’t have any clothes, walking takes too long and in top of that they took my invitation.” Crystal muttered.

The bluenette decided to go outside for some fresh air, but her peace got interrupted by an explosion of sparkling glitter and stuff appeared out of nowhere. The mice, dog, cat, and one of the family’s horses names Pearl went to the garden to see what was happening.

“What was that?” Pearl asked.

“I don’t know.” Dia replied.

“What happened?” Both Sapphire and Ruby asked.

Out of the glitter and smoke a figure appeared. It looked like a young woman with long brown hair and blue eyes. The figure coughed. “Damn I should have chosen a better method!”

“Who are you?” Crystal asked the young brunette.

“I also need to work on the landing.” She woman muttered. She turned around and spotted Crystal. “Oh hello there, I’m your fairy godmother. My name is Blue”.

“A godmother, that exists? And what do you do?” Crystal asked Blue.

“Oh, I’m here to fulfill your dreams. You wanted to go to the ball so you can snatch your prince back, right?” Blue answered in a sweet tone.

Blue clapped in her hands and in a second an invitation letter appeared in Crystal’s hand. Crystal was surprise to see the letter.

“Don’t you have wands?” Crystal asked.

“That’s old fashion and only for fairy tales. Seriously people these day, they just get dumber and dumber. Before you know it it’s totally normal to see teenage girls getting entranced by their boyfriends. Now let me see. To go to the castle we need more help.” Blue mused while she was reading a book. “Oh screw this!” She said as she threw the book away. “Green, honey I need you here.” Blue called.

In seconds a man appeared with spiky-brown hair and green eyes. He was sitting on a chair, while reading a newspaper. “HEY! What you want?” Green asked clearly showing his annoyance [17].

“I need your help here sweetie.” Blue cooed innocently.

“Help with what?” Green asked indifferently.

Blue pointed at Crystal. “This sweet innocent girl needs to go to a ball to proclaim her love to a prince.”

“I’M NOT IN LOVE!” Crystal shouted.

“Sure you are. Now we need a carriage and some people who can bring Crystal to the ball.” Blue said.

“Can’t you do it yourself?” Green asked.

“No, a fairy’s job isn’t bringing people to balls to proclaim their love. We have to help the people who are in need and need to proclaim their love to their loved ones.” Blue answered.

“This makes no sense.” Crystal muttered softly to no one in particular.

Green sigh. “Why didn’t I finished Fairy academy?! Why did I married you instead?”

“Because you love me.” Blue laughed in a teasing tone.

“Pesky girl. Fine, I do it. But only this time, now let’s see. Pumpkin for the transport, mice for the horses, the horse as the driver, and the cat and the dog as escort servants… it doesn’t make much sense, but I don’t care.” Green mumbled. He turned to the animals and snapped in his fingers and well you know what happened.

Pearl, Diamond and Platinum look at themselves in amazement. “I can’t believe I’m so beautiful.” Platinum exclaimed in happiness.

“Please tell me we’re going to look like this forever.” Pearl muses.

“I am hungry.” Diamond pointed out.

“There done.” Green said.

“Why is the horse an escort and are we the horses?!” Ruby complained.

“Oh, such ya trap sissy!” Sapphire yelled.

“Thank you very much honey.” Blue said in delight. “Now let’s get to my favorite part; a dress for the lady.”

Ruby nudged Blue. 'I hope she can understand animal’ He thought. “Uhm excuse me but, can I make the dress? I am very good at knitting and sewing.

Sapphire scowled angrily and head-butted Ruby as hard as she could.

"I got a better idea.” Blue says as she claps her hands together in delight. She drags Crystal further in the garden. After snapping with her fingers, Crystal’s clothes turned into a beautiful dress [18].

Crystal went to the pond to see her dress. She is amazed by it.

“I like it sexy you know, that way you can seduce your prince easily.” Blue commented. “Well, have fun at the ball.” Blue told to Crystal as she steps in the carriage.

“Don’t forget. The magic will expire by midnight.” Green warned Crystal.

“Drop death.” Pearl grumbled in disappointment.

Crystal nodded and off they go. Blue and Green saw her off to the ball. “We did a good job, didn’t we?” Blue asked as she snuggled closer to Green.

“Swear this is going to be the last time.” Green commanded annoyed as he tried to get Blue off of him.

At the ball all monarchies of Europe invited by Napoleon himself arrived at the palace. The guests are dressed very fine and elegant.

“Hey Prez, what will be on today’s news?” A reporter named Black asked his boss; White, president of the newspaper Paris Times.

“The biggest scope of the daily news is the Ball. They’ll announce the engagement of the prince and a lot of royalties will be present. On top of that the prince is known for being a party-guy and troublemaker; just think what for big scoop we can catch!” White explains exciting. She grabs him by his hand and drags him with her. “The party has started!” White almost yelled elated.

They went inside, once they reached the ballroom, they saw the room filled with guests from all over the world. There was a long line of food that would make Diamond end up in the hospital from drying up by his constant drooling. Somewhere in the corner of the room sat the Crown Prince of Imperial France.

“This is boring.” Gold said to himself. He wondered what Crystal is doing and how she’d react about the engagement. He never met the girl and this engagement was only made to keep peace in the land. “I wish she was here.”

“Hey, Gold!” Gold looked up to see a young man with spiky black hair and red eyes approaching.

“Hey Red, how’s it going?” Gold asked as they shook hands.

Red was the son of King George IV and heir to the throne of England [19].

“What do you think? I heard you about to wed Princess of Portugal?” Red answered.

“Yeah, but it’s was Tallyard’s idea. It’s only to keep the peace in Europe.” Gold answered with little enthusiasm.

“It seems so.” Red agrees. “By the way, is something wrong? You don’t seem like your usual self.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing really.” Gold reassured the young man.

“He’s in love with some else.” A boy with red hair, silver eyes and a cold expression answered. The boy’s name was Silver and he happens to be Gold’s best friend since 1805. Behind him were Princess of Austria, Yellow and her younger brother Emerald of Russia [20].

“With who?” Emerald asked

“Emerald!” Yellow yelled sternly.

“Ok, it all began with the tutor session I was forced to follow…” Gold started to explain.

Outside, Crystal’s carriage arrived and the Imperial Guard let her in. She steps out of the carriage with a nervous look. She gives Pearl, who looks worried at her a reassured nod and walks into the palace.

“… So what should we do to kill time?” Diamond asked.

Pearl looked puzzled at Platinum.

“How about a card game?” Platinum suggested.

“What about Ruby and Sapphire?” Pearl asked.

“They can join, as long as no one sees us.” Platinum answered.

“I get the snacks!” Diamond announced cheerfully.“

"She may be super serious, proper and a sadist, but she’s interesting.” Gold told his guests.

“That’s something you don’t see every day.” Silver said in a sarcastic tone.

“A commoner and a sadist too?” Yellow asked worried.

“How did you fall for her?” Red asked Gold with curiosity.

“It’s got to do with…” Gold was about to answer when he sees a mysterious and beautiful looking girl [21]. Strangely the girl reminded him of Crystal. He ignored his guests and walked over to the girl. While Napoleon watches him.

“Tallyard, who is she? She looks familiar, have I seen her before?” Napoleon asked his diplomat.

“I don’t know, sire, but it seems that your nephew has taken interest in her.” Tallyard answers.

“What if his interest in her is more important to him that his engagement to the princess of Portugal?” Napoleon asked worried.

“That could cause a political fault, sire. Unless, we could do something about it” Tallyard answered.

“No, let him be for once.” Napoleon commands as he watches his Nephew move his towards the blue haired girl.

Meanwhile, Crystal wanders around in the crowd until she is tapped on the shoulder. She turned around to see the Crown Prince, Gold standing in front of her expectantly.

'Act natural, Crystal. He’s just a no good…handsome prince I never had feelings for…no, this is not the time for this.’ Crystal thought when Gold comes close to her.

“I’ve never seen you around here. What’s your name?” Gold asked.

“Umm, it's… Chris, for Christine.” Crystal responded quickly, hoping that Gold wouldn’t find out.

“Chris? I like that. Care to join me?” Gold offered his hand.

“Sure” Crystal answered as she takes his hand.

They join the dance floor while Beethoven performs the waltz. While…

“This is the scope of the century!” White mumbled exciting as she writes her notepad full.

“What is?” Black asked confused.

“That!” White points her finger to Gold and Chris (Crystal) who are dancing.

“Crown Prince has feelings for a girl that’s not his fiancée. Oh, this is so going to be on daily paper.” White exclaims happily, while dreaming of the success their news will bring. “This is the best say of my life!”

Black sweat-drops and tries to calm his overactive boss down, while everyone else became amazed by the Crown Prince and Crystal’s dancing.

“So, Chris. What brings you here?” Gold asked her.

Crystal hesitated to answer, hoping that her answer won’t blow her cover. “I wanted to come to the ball.”

“For what?” Gold asked suspiciously.

“I needed to get out once in a while.” Crystal answered no trace of nervousness in her voice.

Gold chuckled. “You know, you kinda remind me of someone.”

“And of whom do I remind you off?” Crystal asked wondering about what the professor told her the day before.

“Her name is Crystal. She’s the most beautiful and serious gal I ever met.” Gold said with sweet tone.

“What’s so important about her?”

“She’s somehow interesting, proud, bossy and a sadist, but yet I feel so attracted to her. She reminds me of myself; behind her mask of seriousness is a face that’s trapped and yearns for freedom, like me. "Gold answered.

"What do you mean?” Crystal asked surprised.

“Thus we; the audience, I and the director know that Crystal is the mystery girl, but Gold seem too stupid and dense enough not to notice, what is he, Red?! Anyway, her plan was to find out about Gold’s feelings which, succeeds, but what she didn’t expect was that she also realized that she also fell in love with him. Wow, that sounded like too Cliché [22], don’t you think?” Narrator told to the Audience. “Now let’s continue with this too cliché story!”

“Who is she?” Lyra, the Princess of Portugal wondered while she was watching Gold and Crystal.

“A friend I guess.” Silver answers as he approached the girl.

“So, when do we have our dance?” Lyra asks while putting up a puppy-face to Silver.

“… Later!” Silver answered while turning away quickly to hide his blush.

“It seems that Gold like her?” Yellow stated.

“Maybe she’s his soul mate?” Red wondered. He knew of the prince’s reputation of being a lecher and flirt. So the idea of the golden eyes boy to fall in love for the first time was quite interesting.

They continued to watch the dancing couple. Beethoven has come with a new kind of waltz which is rougher, with rhythm that is too modern like Tango or ballet [23]. Gold and Crystal matched the song perfectly and flawless, until they separate by 5 feet apart. Everyone waited until the surprise climax as they run towards each other. They continue to do their dance with perfection, until the song stops. The two stare at each other’s face. To their surprise everyone applauds. After bowing they leave the dance floor for some privacy.

“Come on, let’s follow them!” White yells as she runs after the duo. The poor Black tries his best to catch up to her.

“Wait for me!” Black shouts out.

“Our two love birds are walking down the garden, until they reach a fountain. Both of them stay quiet and enjoy the garden’s scenery. Gold splashed water at Crystal and the crystal-eyes girl responded by soaking him too. They enjoyed the moment as they never had before. Crystal finally saw another side of Gold that she never saw before, which makes her fall even more in love with the prince. She plans to tell him everything, who she really is and her feelings, but when they reached the top of the stairs. Crystal noticed the clock; it was almost midnight. She shrugs the nervous feeling away and pretends like nothing this evening is too good to be true and it’s too early to let it end.”

“Do you love her?” Crystal asked.

“Who?” Gold responded confused.

“The Princess of Portugal.” She answered.

“No, it’s only a political marriage. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Crystal answered quickly.

“Say, have we met before? You look familiar.” Gold said, he noticed that she was getting nervous.

Before Crystal could answer the clock hit twelve and the sound echoed through the palace. “I, have to go!” Crystal said and she quickly ran downstairs, but Gold grabbed her wrist.

“Wait! I need to know. You look like her, you sound like her too and you even act like her, are you her? Are you Crystal?” He asked while he stared into her eyes.

Crystal felt as if he was looking through her soul. The sound of the clock was heard again through the castle. Crystal snapped back to reality, she yanked her arm free and continued to run downstairs.

“Wait!” Gold yelled after her. He ran as fast as he could, which gave him stares, strange looks and various scolding from the crowd, but he didn’t care. He had to catch up with her and confirm everything himself; sadly she was way ahead of him.

She ran into the carriage, the animals and the escorts all had returned when they heard the first ring of the clock but, Crystal arrived too late and everything was changes back. Crystal quickly grabbed the pumpkin, the cat, the dog and the mice and jumped on the horse. The Old Guard stare confused as the girl leaves the gate. Gold arrives shortly after Crystals departed.

“Have any of you seen a hot blue haired girl in a sexy dress?” He asked.

“No, but we did see a 'hot’ girl on a horse in an ugly dress.” One of the guards answered.

“Both work fine for me, which way did she go?”

“She left east, but I don’t think you can catch up to her.”

“Dammit!” Gold cursed out loud. Disappointed he walked back to the castle, but he stopped when he saw something shimmering. He looked closer and noticed at was a heel made of glass. “I wonder if her feet hurt.” Gold mused. “Those heels look painful especially if it’s made of glass.”

The Next day, Crystal lost in her thoughts, daydreaming about last night; she didn’t notice Professor Oak entering.

“Crystal, why are you so early?” The professor asked.

“I felt elated after taking a day off.” Crystal answered.

“I see, well I got news to tell you.” Professor Oak announces proudly as he showed her a copy of Paris Times. It was written with a giant letters; “Crown Prince and his mystery girl shocked the Monarchies of Europe.” Crystal was quite surprised, satisfied and puzzled about her feelings when she saw it.

“The mystery girl really is something. She reminds me of you.” Professor Oak said, while taking a sip from his coffee. Crystal looked attentively at the professor. She sigh and put her work down.

“Sir, I got something to say.” Crystal said.

Professor Oak frowned curiously. “What is it?”

“I’m the mystery girl. I went to the ball secretly and danced with Gold.”

Professor Oak sigh. “I was wondering if I was just seeing things, but what I don’t understand is, how were you able to go to the ball?”

“It’s a long story that involved a lot of strange things including the strangest fairy couple I’ve met, But that’s not important, what’s important is that I know now what kind of person Gold really is. He’s so…nice and caring. I’ve never seen him like that. When we danced, it’s like we are in our own world and no one can get us out of that world. He’s like… the kind of person I always dreamed to be with” Crystal explained.

“I get it; you fell in love with him. It was pretty obvious you know that?” Professor Oak said.

Crystal shook her head, “Professor, I can’t. I shouldn’t be together with him. I shouldn’t interfere in political affairs. If I didn’t knew he was to be wed with the princess of Portugal, then maybe I could tell him that it was me.”

“It was you, this whole time?” Both Crystal and Oak turned surprised to see Gold standing by the door. “Why you didn’t you told me?” Gold asked [24].

“I was thinking about telling you, but you are engaged to the Princess of Portugal.” Crystal explained.

“You think I care about that shit?” Gold asked as he slowly approached Crystal. “Super serious gal, I prefer my feelings over political matter, screw them! If we ever end up in a war because of my decision, I’ll handle it when that time comes.”

“Don’t do that!” Crystal protested.

“Why?” Gold asked. He leans into Crystal and kissed her, but to Gold’s surprise Crystal leans away.

“Don’t. Do what your country expects you to do.” Crystal answers while putting her hand between them.

“Crystal, you don’t mean that. You really don’t have to worry about that. I’ll speak with my uncle. I’m sure he’ll understand and cancel the engagement.” Gold exclaimed as he left the room.

At the Palace, Gold runs into his uncle’s room.

“Uncle, I need to speak with you, it’s urgent.” Gold said.

“Is this about the marriage arrangement?” Napoleon asked.

Gold was taken aback by how well his uncle knew him. “Yes.” He answered,

“I have talked with Tallyard and he agrees with me that we should cancel your engagement. I’m sorry for taking you away from your happiness. Go to the woman you love and live your life. You’ll still be heir to the throne and you have to remain faithful to your duties, but you are free to love the one you wish [25].”

Gold hugged his uncle and thanked him over and over. After he finished drying his tears he ran outside on his way back to Crystal, thought on his way, he remembered that he still didn’t know where she lived and that he had a shoe to return. So he decided to go to the lap and ask professor Oak for her address.

“So, Gold was on his way to Crystal’s mansion. Back at the mansion, the stepmother has her suspicions’ about Crystal being the mystery girl that danced with Gold at the ball. So she locked the poor girl up in her room, just before the prince arrived.”

“Let me out! I swear you’ll pay for this!” Crystal threatened.

“Don’t worry dear; I’ll let you out once the prince returns to the castle!” Clair repeated in an evil tone.

“… if you do that I can always to go Gold myself, makes me wonder why I returned to this mansion in the first place.”

“… Shut up and follow the plot!”

“Meanwhile the prince was getting ready to make his entrance to impress Crystal…”

“Hi there sweetie, I came to pick you up… no that sounds lame. *Cough* Good day milady I understood that someone ordered a prince and a lost shoe? Dude what am I a nerd trying to pick up a girl?! Yo super serious gal, you look pretty hot today, let’s go for a ride… dammit not good enough!”

“So, while out prince was still busy with coming up with the perfect pick up line for Crystal, the girl herself tried to escape from her room. The kicked and tackled the door as hard as she could, but the door refused to break open.”

“Dammit! What is this door made of titanium?” The blue haired girl wondered, while she looked for any other option to escape the room.

“Ruby, Sapphire, Platinum and Diamond looked pitiful at the girl. They decided to try their best to reunite her with her prince.”

“Hey guys, what if we break open the window? That was she can escape and surprise the prince.” Sapphire suggested. The other animals looked awkwardly at her. “What? It happens a lot in those TV-shows and movies.”

“That may be true, but it’s rude and unladylike to do. He’s the Prince of France for heaven’s sake.” Platinum answered.

“Yeah, but he’s also a rude delinquent lecher who loves to party. I noticed he was trying to peek under her dress once.” Sapphire countered.

“But, but, It’s barbaric!” Ruby yelled.

Sapphire felt another headache coming up and beat the poor Ruby into pulp.

“Let’s just find the key.” Diamond suggested.

“They all agree. Ruby and Sapphire went out of the room to find the key, luckily for them Crystal was the only bright one of the household, so they found the key on a table next to Crystal’s room. Sapphire grabbed the key and went back to Crystal’s room. Once back Ruby and Sapphire immediately dropped the key in shock, when they saw Crystal with a chair in her hands and facing the window [26].”

“To hell with this! This isn’t my house to begin with, so I won’t feel guilty breaking anything!” She yelled.

Ruby fainted and Sapphire started to laugh maniacal. “HAHAHAHA! I told ya that breaking that window would have been better!”

“Platinum and Diamond sweat-dropped, while Crystal kicked the chair against the window. How ladylike.” The narrator commented sarcastically.

Crash!

“Now a few minutes ago the prince finally decided to enter the house and pick up his bride.”

“Yo super serious gal! You dropped something at the ball so I thought you might want it back. Also I talked to my uncle and he’s totally okay with us hooking up together! Crys?” Gold looked confused around. “Crys where are you?”

Clair approached the prince, while her two daughters were watching in the back curiously. “Good day your highness, what brings you to our home?”

“Well uncle Oak told me his super-hot assistance Crystal lives here and I came here to pick her up and to return something she dropped.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t have a girl names Crystal living in this house. Isn’t that right girls?” Clair asked her daughters.

“Yes mother, we don’t know anyone that goes with the name Crystal.”

“Then do you know someone called Christine?” The prince asked.

Clair and her daughters looked confused at the prince. “What?”

“Crys sometimes goes with the alias Christine, Chris or super serious girl.”

“I am sorry your highness, but we aren’t familiar with those names either.” Clair responded.

“Shit, maybe I heard him wrong.” Gold mumbled.

“But wait, it would be a shame if your journey was for nothing, why won’t you stay and have tea with us? My daughters are very good company.”

“Nah, I’m not into old, ugly and fat. I prefer sexy, busty and with a nice ass.” Gold answered uninterested. He was about the leave when they suddenly heard a crash upstairs.

“What in heaven’s name…” Clair wondered.

They all went outside and they saw Crystal getting ready to jump.

“What the?!” The step sisters yelled in surprise.

“Super serious gal!” Gold called in delight.

Crystal fumed. “Don’t call me that! Who is sexy, busty and with a nice ass you pervert! Crystal yelled, while she jumped out of the window and landed perfectly on her step sisters while giving Gold the kick he deserved.

Clair gasped and ran to her daughters. "Are you alright my angels?”

Sabrina and Whitney groaned as they got up from the mud. Crystal walked over to Gold and helped him get back on his feet.

“I can’t believe that I actually missed your physical abuse.” Gold mumbled.

“And I can’t believe that I missed you rude and perverted comment.” Crystal mused, while Gold held up her glass shoe/ heel/ slipper, whatever you want to call it. Crystal looked confused.

“You dropped it.” Gold explained. “Man I can’t believe you were able to walk on that, it’s super painful.”

Crystal looked puzzled at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I was curious.” Gold answered. “You girls make it look like it’s easy walking on those, but it hurt so much, I thought someone was pricking me with needles and for you information I fell a lot too. They should forbid heels I’ll tell you.”

Crystal giggled. “Sure they should.”

“So, do I get that kiss that I deserve?” Gold asked.

“Crystal frowned, but complied. They kissed for just 5 seconds, but for them it was enough. The animals were cheering, Gold’s slaves, I mean lackey’s too and on top of that Lady Claire almost got a heart attack.”

“Let’s go super serious gal.” Gold said, while leading Crystal to the carriage.

“With pleasure.” Crystal answered. “Oh by the way miss Clair, I think your house is on fire.” Crystal said casually.

Lady Clair looked shocked at her house that indeed was burning down.

“NOOO MY HOUSE!” She yelled desperately. She tried her best to save her house, but little could she do.

Pearl, Dia, Platinum and the mice couple were watching them silently from the buses. Sapphire was whistling, while cleaning her hands with a leaf. “Well I’m sure she won’t miss the house, since we will live in a castle from now on and I don’t think anyone will notice if the whore trio become homeless.”

“But, what about us?” Rube asked.

“We’ll be living with Crystal of Course.” Pearl answered. “After everything we’ve done for each other.”

“Does that mean we can play a card game and eat when we want?” Dia asked exciting.

“Of course we can.” Platinum smiled. All the animals all cheer in happiness.

Thus, the French Empire celebrated the wedding of Prince Gold and his newly wed wife Crystal, soon to be queen of France. Ruby, Sapphire, Diamond, Pearl and Platinum moved in with Gold and Crystal, on Crystal’s request of course. Lady Claire and her stepsister died a tragic death, but since no one cared they’re bodies were left at the burned house waiting to eating by rats and other wild animals. So the kingdom was at peace and everyone lived happily ever. You know what; this was a short story I had to tell. Ha ha ha ha, doing the full story with all the details? Hell no! {26] Why giving the director too much stress? She can’t do that, or else this story would be screwed. Okay, enough of this, I am out of here.“ The narrator announced as he left the room.

#au fanfic contest #submission #republicempire

[the-real-anywolf]

Upcoming Fics and Yes, We MET!!

Frankie here: So, we noticed that there were quite a few comments from you awesome llamas on our most recent fic as part of the DCRB (These Waves are Mine) concerned about our radio silence. It wasn’t intentional, we’ve been writing a LOT. We’ve currently got eight (yes EIGHT) completed fics in the beta process right now, including one that will be posted next week as part of the Dystopian Bang. We’re also almost finished with the Playing With Fire sequel. So over the next couple of months, you will be getting a lot of stuff from us, and Hell, I think the shortest fic is 5k.

Any here: As y'all know we love to experiment with tropes, challenge ourselves and try out new different things. And we have a lot of "different" (Yes, I'm doing the air quotes with my fingers) coming down the road! Things we hadn't expected to happen!

But yeah at the moment we working hard on the Playing With Fire Series. So this will be finished before our sequel for In A Mirror, Darkly. I know y'all can't wait to read that but yeah there is a lot of story and work going into the sequel. So this just takes some time.

I'm especially proud of a little short story that's coming up soon, because we wrote the story from a new POV. Thinking of that story... we sometimes write nods to other fanfics that we wrote. So if you read all the new upcoming fics you might notice some fun innuendos.

I'm also super excited to upload our fic for DYSTOPIA!! *happy dance* Oh and we take part in the DCBB again!! Although this seems like still being ages away.

Frankie here: Gimme a minute. I’m still dying over you using the word: y’all. I’ve clearly been a TERRIBLE influence on you.

Any here: I WATCHED TOO MANY JARED VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE! I TOTALLY BLAME JARED! The guy is so funny I could watch him for ages *lol*

Frankie here: I second that emotion. Unlike some shippers, I’m all about adding Jared to cockles panels. Hell, all of them. Can we sign a petition to force Jared to jump in on all the panels? lolol.

Any here: LOL. I'm usually not on tumblr or twitter that much but I noticed that little war. *eyeroll*. I'm glad I only know shipper that are TEAM FREE WILL 2.0. REAL FANS DON'T EXCLUDE. PERIOD. (besides: with all the posts about Jared being shipper #1 and the amount of cockles/destiel stuff we got because of him, that really came as a surprise to me.)

Frankie here: Yeah, I saw one cunty post where a girl was making comparisons of Jared jumping in on the JIBcon cockles panel - to how you save up to buy a diamond, you’re super excited about the diamond, and you leave the jewelry store with a ruby. Someone responded with the best fucking call out: well, be grateful you can even afford a ruby, cuz not all of us can. There’s a lot of privilege when it comes to this fandom, and annoyingly so. I remember I was at the SF convention the year Jensen’s twins were born, like they were literally born the weekend of this convention and I overheard several fans say, “He BETTER show up.”

I said I hope he didn’t and stayed at home with his family just to spite them. He showed though, but still. I’ll say it once and only once, they do a lot for their fans, they do a lot for their community, so be decent fucking humans about everything and not ungrateful fucking brats. Lol. Anyway. We got (and by we, I mean me) a little off topic, what were we doing again?

Any here: Promoting upcoming projects and OHHH TALK ABOUT YOUR TRIP TO EUROPE!!!!! CUZ WE'VE MET IN JANUARY!!!! Here is the PROOF *lol*:

Frankie here: Any tried to keep me. Like really tried and I really wanted to stay. If only for couch cuddles and her husband’s cooking. LOL. And shit, I just realized the cuddles might be misleading, cuz I’m pretty sure some of our readers ship us.

Any here: Did you just try to correct your own accidentally queerbaiting? LOL. Do we even have a ship name? If we don't have a ship name no one ships us, right? I think we're safe.... I just realized I shouldn't have said this, because I know a few of you probably comment this with a ship name for us, right? You know who you are! *makes squinty eyes*

Frankie here: UGH our ship name is probably FRANY and just NO. NO NO NO. Don’t you fuckers do it. lol.

Any here: Well they don’t have to anymore. You already did it. Now we’re doomed! lol

Frankie here: Fuck. Ah well, anyway, Any dragged me to some cool ass places, including a chocolate factory! And a pub with board games, in which I introduced her to the beloved Cards Against Humanity and she introduced me to the best fucking game ever, “Halt Mal Kurz” or some german shit. Anyway, you get to slap Nazis in it, so A+++++++ game.

Any here: You can also slap the police because they look like Nazis… although that has bad consequences. Oh man, fuck, that was a fucking funny night.

Frankie here: Yeah it was. Goddamnit I miss you. We need to do that again. And I have legit introduced so many americans to this brilliant game. We also got to watch the Wayward Sisters pilot live together, which was AWESOME.

Any here: Watching SPN with someone who is a crazy as I am was fucking amazing and we celebrated that pilot so hard. We already started shipping Claire with Kaia... Oh man, this series could have been so brilliant if stupid CW had picked it up. I'm glad the story will get resolved in SPN though! (Also I’m still working on my evil plan to lure you back to Europe forever *muahahahahahahha* I mean seriously… who wants to live in a country with a orange assbutt as a president? Sure you have better weather and all but we have a health insurance that pays for almost everything)

Frankie here: Yeah, the more shit that orange psycho rapist racist lunatic keeps pulling, the less I want to stay in this country, but seeing as I’m an immigrant, I’m sure I’ll be deported sooner rather than later. Ugh. Anyway, yes, it was awesome watching it with someone who squealed at the same points I did, and HELL YES CLAIRE KAIA. Ahem. Anyway, yes! Sorry to our amazing and awesome readers and followers who were worried about our radio silence, it’s because we’re writing like maniacs. Hell, we’re working on the D&S series while we work on this blog update, if that gives you an idea. LOL. Anyway, we love you guys. And we can’t wait to see what y’all think of our upcoming stuff!!

Any here: Writing maniacs is so accurate. We sometimes write on 3 fanfics at the same time… But yeah, we’re still here, still writing and ditto to what Frankie said. Can’t wait for all the babies to go online :D

Frankie here: Yes! So much love and and fluffy destiel hugs and all that Jazz. Although it’s us, so more like fluffy destiel smut. ❤️❤️

Any here: Eeeek that reminds me of that smut fest we wrote that is also finished and in the beta stage.... Okay I shut up now and YEAH HAPPY DESTIEL FLUFFY HUGS from me too :D <3

#frankie and any #Destiel #we're here #don't worry guys #just busy writing #all the fanfics

[emmakillianfan]

The Recipe - A Captain Swan Little Bang Story

Summary: Chefs Emma Swan and Killian Jones both have their reasons to compete in the Culinary Championships for a large cash prize. But when they are paired as a team, they must learn to work together or it could all go up in flames. Part of the Captain Swan Little Bang 2018!

A/N: Here is my contribution to the @captainswanbigbang ‘s little bang! Thank you so much to all the mods for organizing it and for all your hard work. I was able to combine two of my greatest loves in this story - Captain Swan and culinary competitions. I could not have done it without the incredible feedback of my beta reader, @aloha-4-ever , who offered suggestions, kept me on track, and helped me change my idea when the first one turned the wrong direction. And of course this story is all the better with the incredible artistic work of @cocohook38 who made the incredible illustration of Emma and Killian as chefs. She took my idea of them in this story and made it reality. If you like her work, check out these great shirts. One of the designs is hers!   Proceeds will go to Little Hearts, Big Hopes to find research for Jacobsen Syndrome, a charity supported by Jennifer Morrison.  https://represent.com/store/emma-s-ugly-ducklings

Rated: Teen for a little language and mild affection

Triggers: None unless you have a food allergy

Available at: Archive and FF.net.

There was always something magical about cooking to Emma Swan. From the first time she had thrown ingredients into a pan and watched them meld into something wonderful and tasty, she had been mesmerized by the transformation that to her was pure magic. So when she aged out of the foster care system at 18, she found herself working long shifts at a diner and taking a cooking classes at a local community college.

Yet after a long day where she crafted creamy risotto that made the Italian master chefs cry at its beauty, Emma found that she was a fan of the simpler things in life. That particular night she was standing over a single frying pan with a golden brown sandwich sizzling to that perfect melted state where the butter, cheese, and bread would meld into a sinfully good grilled cheese sandwich.

“You won’t win the Culinary Championships with a sandwich,” her roommate Ruby announced, dropping her bag on the farm table they had restored during a snowy weekend when the entire city had shut down. “What? No objections that competition cooking isn’t your style?”

Emma lifted the corner of the sandwich to inspect her work. “I think we’ve already had that argument. I did my time, earned the accolades. Why would the Championships want to invite me back?”

Running a hand blindly through her dark hair, Ruby sighed. “Why wouldn’t they? You’re unbeatable. You won every freaking competition.”

Emma kept her eyes on her sandwich, pressing the slotted spatula down on it and then letting the bread rise back. “If I’m so unbeatable, then what’s the point? Nobody’s going to watch me win again. And if I lose, then I lose reputation and credibility.” Since her string of wins, Emma had found herself in the role of executive chef at one of New York’s small but popular restaurants.  

Always with a flair for the dramatic, Ruby held her phone out to her friend and shook it from side to side. “Fine, I’ll read the good part anyway. They are giving you a guaranteed bonus and appearance fee.” For Ruby, food was about money. She was the granddaughter of a restaurant owner and now worked in New York with a variety of chefs to help them start their own establishments. But to Emma, she was a friend and roommate, plus part time coach and assistant if it meant she got to hang around television types.

Peeking at the underside of her sandwich again and deeming it good, she flipped it easily and finally gave her dark haired roommate some attention. “So I just show up and cook?”

“That’s the idea,” Ruby said, breaking off a piece of the cheese that Emma had sliced for the sandwiches she was making. “Everyone will be paired up with another chef. You’re not in it alone. Then when there is only one pair standing, they both get a cash prize and you compete against your partner for a chance to go against other chefs from around the country. How savage is that? Turning on your own partner. The national winner gets $500,000.” Ruby shoved the phone down into the tiny little bag she was carrying and crossed her arms. “Imagine it. No don’t imagine it. Plan on it. Think about what you can do with that money.”

With her green eyes back on the sandwich, Emma sighed. “You’re thinking Ingrid’s.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said with an emphatic nod of her head. “So what do you say? Put on those chef whites and compete?”

Emma slid the sandwich on the plate and began to prepare a second one, knowing her roommate was hungry too. “I’ll think about it.” She concentrated on the satisfying sizzle of the pan for a moment.

“That’s Emma-code for I’ll think of reasons not to do it.” Ruby looked sourly at her friend. “You’ve done these before. Why not now?”

“I told you that I would think about it. I will. I need to look at schedules, expectations, requirements, and all of those little details.” She flipped the sandwich. “Such as, who would I partner with anyway? You?”

Ruby scoffed. “I’m no chef. I help pain in the butt chefs like you start their own restaurants. But you touch the food. I draw the line at that. Anyway, I already talked to the scout slash production assistant. They said not everyone entering has a partner already. There are probably half a dozen on the show who would kill to work with you.”

It was a running joke between the roommates that Ruby was a front of the house person. She could sell steak to a vegetarian, but she couldn’t grill one to save her life. “I could just get a loan to fix the restaurant up. Seems a little more responsible.”

“What if you win? Your former foster mother left you a beautiful house on the coast of Maine. It’s huge. Imagine the restaurant we could turn it into! What else are you going to do with it?”

“The kitchen is nonexistent,” Emma reminded her, adding a bit more of the herbed butter to the pan. “There was a stove with only one working eye. The refrigerator was blowing hot air. And did you notice there were no counters? There’s not a health inspector drunk enough to give me a permit.”

“So,” Ruby said as she snagged the now completed sandwich and saluted her friend with it, “if you win the whole thing, you get $500,000. That’s more than enough to get the kitchen outfitted and the renovations complete.” Closing her eyes as she bit, Ruby smiled around the melted butter and cheese sandwich. “I take back what I said. Make these for the judges. It would win the entire thing.”

***AAA***

Two years ago the red numbers of the countdown clock glared mercilessly at Chef Killian Jones as he felt the sweat beading on his brow. The bitter stench of burned garlic wafted up from the singed pan, along with the realization that he had no time to recreate the dish for the judges. The other competitors were calmly plating mounds of food while his plates remained empty.

There were only seconds left on the clock when he balled up the logo-decorated apron and threw it over the pile of dirty pans and mixing bowls. “I quit,” he announced, ignoring the camera that followed him as he pushed through the swinging doors and past the producer, Mr. Gold, who was whisper-shouting into his headset at some unknown production assistant.

A few days later a certified letter and legal paperwork arrived at his apartment in Maine stating he was being sued for breach of contract. Known as a rebel and a fighter, Killian didn’t fight this time and eventually paid the full amount due with the only asset he had left – his beloved sailboat.

Waking up that morning in Storybrooke, Maine, he had felt that same gut-wrenching dread as he had two years before when the clock ticked down his doom in the industry. Granny’s wasn’t exactly the best of career steps, but none of the better restaurants even took his reservations after the show aired. He was grateful for the opportunity to work, even at a themed diner that served the same 40 or so customers over and over again.

“What did you do to that chicken pot pie Leroy ordered?” Granny asked, holding the swinging door between dining room and kitchen open with her hip. She was staring at Killian with her eyes peering accusingly over a pair of wire rim glasses.

“I froze some of the fresh peas and ground them fine,” he explained, rubbing his hands on the towel over his shoulder. “Dusted the dough with that and some sea salt to add a bit of bite to the dish.”

“He’s practically licking the plate, and asked for another one to go. See if you can make that old grump smile for the second time in one night, will you?”

“Aye,” he said with a grin as he turned back to the prep table and began to gather his ingredients. “I do love a challenge, particularly when it is 10 minutes until closing and the kitchen should have been shut down already.”

“He’s a paying customer,” she reminded him, letting the door bounce as she turned back to the dining room. “And you know what I always say, right?”

“A customer’s money is always good money,” he chanted wearily. “Tell him it will take a bit of time, but I’ll have it piping hot for him before he finishes his next pint.”

Killian sliced through the carrots with precision and grace, the blade of his knife catching the artificial light of the overheads. He was not a man who liked mediocrity or disorder, as a few of the line cooks had learned when their stations had not been as uniform as they should have been.

Since most of the staff was already gone for the evening, Killian worked in silence for as long as he could. There was something therapeutic in the coolness of the dough under his fingers and the scent of the vegetables, chicken, and béchamel simmering on the stove, as he worked the dough into the small round pan. He was just sliding it into the already warm oven when he heard the familiar clearing of a voice in the rectangular window between kitchen and dining.

“What can I do for you, mate?” Killian asked, taking a cloth to the buildup of flour on the steel table. “Marian craving another slice of Granny’s chocolate cake?”

Robin folded his arms on the ledge of the window and laughed. Known for his renovation techniques and business skills, he ran one of the best restoration companies on the coast. He also handled much of Killian’s business affairs since the chef had little interest in that himself. “Not yet. We don’t...well, it’s far too soon for that particular craving symptom. My news is for you, mate. I just heard from that talent scout woman. She wants you to come in for an interview about that cooking competition show. Bloody brilliant opportunity I’d say.”

“Show?” Killian asked, not remembering what his friend was talking about now. They had more than a few late night discussions with and without a few libations to keep tongues wagging. “I hope you would know better than to sign me up for some ruddy competition. Those days are over.”

Robin offered a quick reminder. “You’d get a daily fee to be there, a guaranteed $100,000 in cash and prizes for the finals to share with your partner, and of course the purse is $500,000 for the national win. More than enough to get you out of this place and running one of your own.”

“Quiet, mate, I don’t think Granny heard you plotting my escape.” Like all chefs he wanted his own menu, his own rules, but you didn’t tell your boss that while you were still trying to bring in a paycheck. “And besides. She barely lets us take a sick day without a two week notice. You think she’ll go for me disappearing to compete in a bloody reality show?”

“She will if you promise to mention the diner’s name and address enough,” Granny interrupted, her pursed lips indicating she had heard the conversation. While she had to be joking, her stern expression didn’t indicate the mirth behind the suggestion. When he froze in place at being caught discussing such an idea, she softened and almost smiled. “Killian, I’m not blind. You’re a fine chef and this place is beneath you. Go and spread your wings. If it works, you’ll probably put me out of business with whatever crazy scheme you’ve got next. If you fail, well there’s always a spot for you here.” Sighing when he didn’t jump at the opportunity, she turned toward the door and paused again. “I could just fire you and then you’d have to go, or not make rent.”

“Gold won’t want me on the show once he realizes I’m the one who left without warning,” Killian protested, returning to the duty of cleaning the counters. “It was not a pretty sight. I just gave up.”

“A mistake you won’t be making again,” Robin noted. “Baby steps, Killian. And he seems willing. Now you just have to prove him wrong about you.”

Yanking on the faucet’s hose to spray down one of the leftover pans, he grimaced. It wasn’t obvious where the scowl was directed, but part of it had to be the idea of competing again. “I am fine with the status quo. I don’t need this hassle.”

“Too bad,” Robin said, “As your agent and business partner, I already told them yes.”

“I’ll fire you,” Killian called over his shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You’d have to pay me to make that threat work, mate. I am volunteering, and you’re doing the show.”

***AAA***

Emma was the last of the competing chefs to arrive, but as the call sheet dictated, she climbed out of the cab in party attire for an event to meet the rest of the cooks. She was hustled through a long hallway, stopping just before the room where the welcome banquet would be held.

The girlfriend of the producer, Belle French, gave her an overview of the competition as she walked on impossibly high heels past the door leading into the party.

“So about the contract,” Emma began, adjusting the strap of her red dress. “I noticed that it said, ‘chef duos in duels.’ I’m not really…”

The petite brunette nodded her head, checking the clipboard she had cradled in her arms. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just to stir up drama. Anyway, we have the perfect match for you.”

Bobbing her head affirmatively, Emma squared her shoulders. “I’ve been more of a solo chef as of late. I don’t even have a sous chef at the moment. It’s just a little…”

“We…I mean, our producer, Gold, took care of that,” the woman answered, brushing back her thick hair. “He works somewhere here in Maine. On the coast I think? Isn’t that where you’re thinking about opening a place?”

“It’s not that small of a state,” Emma remarked easily. “So do I get to meet him prior to cooking with him? I mean no offense, but I’ve seen some of the chefs on these shows. Gold doesn’t always go for quality. That Walsh you gave me last time carved the protein like he was peeling a banana. Even a monkey can break down a chicken, Belle.”

“Sure, sure,” Belle said breezily, checking her list again. “Killian’s competed before so he’s not completely green…it’s just that…well, I’ll let you meet him.”

Emma’s gut was telling her to ask why he didn’t already have a partner, especially since he was apparently fabulous. But whoever he was, he was an unknown. That led to her other question.

“And this Killian guy didn’t have a friend, wife, or someone? Or does he just suck? There has to be a reason.”

“Aye, there’s always a reason,” a new voice said as she spun to find the source. Find it she did. Standing next to one of the tables, wearing a dark henley and what appeared to be two-day stubble, was a dark haired man who must have missed the party attire memo. He flashed a too-white smile before taking a few steps toward her and sticking out a hand. “Killian Jones.”

“Emma,” she offered, knowing that he must have recognized her from the way his eyes seemed knowingly confident. “So maybe you could answer that question. Why don’t you have a partner?”

He finally dropped his hand when she didn’t shake it. “Perhaps I’m just a bit picky when it comes to partners.”

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe that. I should warn you, I’m really good at spotting a lie. And right now, buddy, you’re pinging my radar.”

She knew she must have gotten to him a bit, as he clenched his jaw, and twin splotches of red appeared on his cheeks. “It’s good to have talents, love, but I’m not the dishonest type.”

***AAA***

Having already met his partner, Killian curled his hand around the sweating glass of rum and gave a congenial nod to the bartender hired for the party. The room was only about half full of chefs who were left to mingle just out of range of the production. His own partner was chatting with two sisters who were partnered together.

Another chef named Arthur was standing near an ice sculpture talking to a married couple with a plate full of fruit tarts that were among the assortment of finger foods offered. The second married team was standing off to another side, the rust-haired woman excitedly studying every single item on the table.

He had yet to sample much of the food other than a large prawn that seemed to scream his name. The table he was standing next to at that moment was piled high with aged sausages and thinly sliced beef and lamb carpaccio. He was studying the cut on one of them when he heard the familiar voice of his partner in this adventure.

“Please tell me you’re going to do more than look at that meat,” she said, lifting a few slices with the silver tongs. “I have done at least a thousand of these competitions and the vegetarian chefs are always the first to go home.”

He felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight of her. He had been so on the defense about her doubts earlier that he had not noticed how she looked nothing like the television version of herself either. Usually on camera in her chef whites and her hair in a severe bun, she demanded respect and attention. Now, she was a vision in a red cocktail dress and loose curls down her back. “I assure you that I know how to do more than simply slice and grill a few vegetables, love.”

She laughed, a joyful sound though not quite as carefree as he thought a confident woman such as Chef Swan. “Just checking. I mean if you want to be first out, that’s fine for you, but I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

He reached over and plucked one of the sausage bites before dropping it into his mouth. A full mouth would keep him from having to make conversation for a moment. It tasted like sawdust on his tongue as he watched her study him carefully, as if she was trying to taste the spicy concoction through him. Swallowing, he managed a small but bright smile of his own. “And you think that I will be the first one out? Are you mad, love?  I mean Chef, milady…”

“Chef’s fine,” she said, grimacing. “So if you’re not the vegetarian chef, then you’re...rustic Italian with strong Mediterranean flavor influences?”

He shook his head again, feeling a little more at ease with her. “Now, love, do I sound like an Italian chef?”

Her shoulders rose and fell with a silent chuckle. “I admit all the British accents are messing with my guessing game. You can’t all be cooking pub food? The judges won’t be too kind if they get half a dozen dishes of bangers and mash, or fish and chips.”

Lifting a dark eyebrow at her clearly judgmental statement, he waited until she bit off some of the charcuterie. She did not make a show of closing her eyes and preening dramatically at the savory food. Instead, she chewed rather methodically and let her eyes crinkle only slightly as she swallowed. “For such an educated palate, you seem to have a low opinion of English cuisine. It has won a reputation for being bland, which is accurate in only some cases, but that’s not what I make.”

She hummed in response. “So you’re rustic comfort food with hints of French stuffiness? Wait, that’s probably those two.” She gestured toward the two men, both of whom were newly married to their non-culinary wives, competing together.

“You seem to want to place a label on everyone. What if those labels don’t fit?”

She ran her tongue over her lip to enjoy more of the saltiness of the cured meat. Her green eyes glowed with challenge and she lifted her chin defiantly. Shifting her weight, she glanced over him as if to size him up to her standards. “I want to know what I’m up against and who I’m working with, Chef.”

“I suppose you’ll see my style when it comes to competition. You never know. I might be the expert in Asian fusion.”

She beckoned him closer with two fingers, making him breathe in the sweet scent of powder mixing with the spicy perfume over the strong wafting aromas of the food. He prayed she didn’t notice the way his eyes partially shut or how he swayed in her direction before stopping himself. “I don’t think so, Chef Jones. See that woman there?” She pointed her elbow toward a dark haired woman with her back to them. “That’s Chef Mulan. She spent seven years perfecting her skills with sushi and sashimi. I am sure you must have some skill to be on this show, but you’d never beat her in that particular way.”

Killian tilted his head and studied the woman in question. “Sounds as though you are a fan of the clichéd, Chef Swan. One’s heritage and ethnicity don’t always dictate their palate. I may have English blood in me and fancy a good serving of fish and chips from time to time, but I detest clotted cream and Yorkshire pudding.”

The blonde chef’s lips twitched into an almost smile. “I will take that under advisement,” she said, taking a step backward. “I’ll leave you to it.” She was turning around when he spoke out again.

“And what of you? Do you label yourself with some moniker that is supposed to describe your food? Molecular gastronomy perhaps or comfort food?”

She spun back that half turn to face him, those palely painted lips twitching again. “I would think you would know the answer to that by the shows and competitions I’ve done.”

“I’ve seen what the magic of the camera shows about your food, but what does the camera not show about you?” Still he persisted, enjoying that ember of a spark in her eyes when someone actually challenged her instead of just bowing to her requests and lavishing praise on her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Chef Jones?” She finished, then turned away from him and walked over to join a raven haired woman standing near the producers. He appreciated the view of her, even in retreat.

“Perhaps I would,” he said to himself.

***AAA***

“Good job,” Ruby said in a stage whisper, resting her chin on a folded hand and keeping her eyes on the contestants still milling about. “You flustered that poor guy right before he has to cook. Need I remind you that he’s your partner? Are you trying to lose the competition, Emma?”

Emma threw back the rest of the wine in her glass, not tasting the sweet bitterness on her tongue. “He wasn’t flustered, Ruby. He was a cocky jerk who will probably chock.”

“Cocky? A chef is being cocky?” Ruby splayed her hand over her chest that was revealed by the plunging neckline of her red top. “I’m shocked. How could a chef be cocky? P.S. I know him. He works for my grandmother. Not a bad cook. You know Granny wouldn’t hire him otherwise.”

Emma was about to ask more, when August Booth summoned the contestants tapping a fork against his wine glass. While not a chef, August had been a food critic and writer for years. She’d butted heads with him, but found that she respected his opinion most of the time.

“Seriously though, he’s one of the cuter ones here. Did you see those blue eyes? Of course you did, you were standing there with him. Do you think they’re contacts?”

“I wasn’t looking that closely.”

“Right? So you ignored most of the chefs here, something you always do by the way, and ended up talking to him because…”

“We’re paired together and I was worried he’s not good enough. He happened to be standing there looking confused over a display of sausages and other meat. I thought...anyway, don’t read into it, Ruby. Do you blame me for doing a little research?”

Ruby grunted, “The only CIA you know is the Culinary Institute of America. You, Emma Swan, were checking out more than his culinary pedigree.”

Sticking her tongue out at her friend, Emma crossed over to the group of experienced and yet nervous chefs gathered around the judge and host. The cameras were already circling, capturing the uneasy energy of what was clearly going to be their first challenge.

She was right, using the remnants and leftovers of the appetizers and hors d'oeuvres they had been noshing on for the last hour, they were supposed to create two new dishes for the judges.

He had chosen some of the tuna, which he was currently marinating in the limes and coconut milk that he’d swiped from the bar. Having found bits of cucumber, he combined them with the tuna and shallots to make a tuna poke in a lettuce cup.

Emma’s knife, plastic though it might be, sliced easily through the small fruit items that she had gathered from the tables. Not stopping the motion of the knife, she gave a side glance at the table’s meager ingredients. To her left was a small bowl of a yogurt-based dip with honey on top. If she was able to scrape the honey from the dipping sauce, she could drizzle it over the sugared fruit.

“You’ll need something to cut the sweetness a bit,” he said. “The honey and the sugar, love? That’s enough to send the judges into a diabetic coma.”

Her sharp intake of breath did not deny that was what she was thinking or that he was right about the overwhelming saccharine taste that would put her on the bottom of the competition. She decided to merely acknowledge his observation with a pithy, “I’m aware.”

“No offense intended,” he chuckled, nudging a saucer holding four lemon slices in her direction. “You’re a bit of an open book. But for the sake of that infernal competition clock, perhaps you’d consider these. Might add just the right bite to the dish.”

“I thought you would going to use those with the fish. You have to use it to make your ceviche, don’t you?”

He laughed at her question, insisting that she take the lemons. “I visited the bar and was able to get a dash of lime juice and coconut milk. It will make my dish truly sing.” Wiping his hands on his apron, he dashed off again in the direction of the dessert table.

That was odd, she thought as she began the process of drizzling the honey over the mound of fruit. Hers was supposed to be the sweet component to their duo, and his the savory. What on earth could he need from the dessert table? Not wanting to spend too much time analyzing his movements or palate, she grabbed the lemon slices before he could get back and liberally doused her fruit with the tangy citrus liquid.

She let the berries and fruit rest while she inspected her ingredients again. She could have used the yogurt dip as the base for a parfait, but the assignment was to craft an amuse-bouche, something that was to tickle the tongue in a single bite, and a parfait would be considered too large and cumbersome.

Suddenly her partner was back, tossing a napkin in front of her that was piled with a few ginger snaps and sugar cookies decorated with lemon flavored royal icing. He winked as he obliterated the two ginger snaps he had kept for himself with the bottom of a shot glass before passing the glass to her. “For your tart,” he said as if they had already decided on her dish. “You can form it in that, and use a bit of that icing as a binder. I was only able to grab one, but you can slide it out and make…”

“I know how to make a tart,” she snapped, grimacing at the small glass with its crumbs still clinging to the base. “You don’t think…”

“The clock on the wall is telling me that overthinking is a luxury at this point. Best put your misgivings about me to the side and get to work on the crust. Otherwise those judges won’t find you so brilliant when they are eating a macerated berry in their bare hands.”

She hazarded a glance at the other table where Zelena was sprinkling pistachios over chicken and Regina was using hollowed out apple as a vessel for the deconstructed apple pie. That wasn’t surprising, as Regina seemed to think apples went with everything. Mary Margaret was capping off a delicious looking shrimp toast, while David was filling tall shot glasses with a soup of some kind.

“It’s not wise to worry about the competition. One doesn’t win by worrying about what the others are doing.” Killian spooned his fish and veggies into the center of the lettuce leaf and rolled it, folding its ends delicately and placing it in the center of a saucer. He stooped down and looked over the rim of the plate to inspect it, making miniscule movements to adjust it just so.

“Do you always talk like that?” she asked, sliding out her first tart and placing it on the plate as he began the process for another of his wraps.

“Like what?”

“Like you write fortune cookie advice for a living? I was just seeing what they were making. It’s not like the judges get palate cleansers between contestants. If they taste their dishes first and they’re horrible, that can carry over to ours.” She frowned as her next tart didn’t seem as firm as the first. The last thing she would want would be for it to crumble in a judge’s hand.

“Add a bit more water to make it more dough-like,” Killian suggested, plating another of his rolled wraps. When she looked doubtful, he smiled. “I promise. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

She assumed it would be a mushy mess, but the couple of drops of water truly helped and allowed her to easily plate the four bites. There were only 90 seconds left before the buzzer and her hands shook from the stress of it all.

“It looks brilliant,” he whispered, his voice closer than she expected. At some point during the plating he had moved to the same side of the crowded prep table as her, sidling up beside her to the point that his whispered encouragement was warm on her ear. She gave him a nervously tight smile in return.

Filming of the judging scenes were rough, as there was more direction from the producer and retakes to get reaction shots from everyone. All the sets of chefs were told repeatedly to react but not to overly extend themselves or their emotions. “I have no use for dramatics or hysterics,” Mr. Gold told them each pointedly. “Smile, nod, and say thank you, but don’t cry, scream or throw things.”

By the time the judges approached them, Killian was shifting his stance and kept running his fingers over the stubble on his chin. Her green eyes shot over to him and half expected him to pass out as August instructed the other two judges to try his wrap after Killian explained it. His previously controlled and confident tone was replaced with his thicker accent and shakiness that did not seem natural on him at all.

“Delicious,” Emily said, the first of the judges to speak. She placed a hand over her mouth as she chewed, a delicate move that made her seem more ladylike than August’s method of robust chewing. “I’m tasting hints of coconut and...” She ran her tongue around her mouth. “I’m also getting lime? Did you marinate the tuna in lime?”

“Aye, I thought the coconut milk and lime would provide a richer flavor.” She could tell the compliment had relaxed him more, as he let his shoulders fall and there was a soft exhale as if he had been holding his breath while they ate.

“You’re known as a seafood chef, aren’t you?” August asked, not bothering to even mask the disdain. Emma had always known him to be fair with her, but he was a food critic. Criticism came naturally to him, slipping from his full lips as easily as the white lies he spouted about his credentials. Emma knew about those too and was not above making him worry she might out him as a fraud if crossed. “I would imagine you wouldn’t do so well if you had attempted something with venison or pork?”

“Most people like to put all chefs in these neat little boxes and assume we are talentless gits when it comes to anything else. I have quite a bit of experience when it comes to seafood, but I enjoy making people savor their dishes no matter the protein or accompaniment.” Killian flashed a smile that was not exactly innocent as the camera panned around to the side to capture another angle.

It was Belle’s turn to offer her thoughts. Unlike Emily Gale, she was not a chef or restauranteur. But she was well read and known in culinary circles as a foodie with a most educated palate. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth and eyed the plates in front of Emma before she spoke. “I’m liking the combination of flavors, and the addition of the cilantro gave it a kick. It’s unexpectedly good with notes of freshness one wouldn’t expect from buffet leftovers. And using ginger snaps rather than raw ginger was genius.”

“Cut,” cried the producer who clearly thought he was a director too. In his perfectly fitted suit, Mr. Gold approached the table with his signature cane in hand. “This is just too nice. I need some darkness, shade, something. Is there something you didn’t like about this man’s dish?”

Belle and Emily’s eyes darted downward as they considered this request, but it was August who spoke first. “The texture is off. The filling felt like mush in my mouth.”

Once they had all expressed some doubt about Killian’s dish and the camera crew got the shots they wanted, it was on to Emma’s contribution. She lifted her chin up a fraction of an inch and offered tight smiles as they complimented her flavors and textures. August even winked as he commented on the smart decision to cut the sweetness with the acid of the lemon.

“Good job, love,” Killian said as the cameras and judges moved on to another table. He quickly corrected himself to call her chef, but she didn’t respond right away.

“Thanks,” she finally said, not blatantly staring at the judges deliberations over the competition. “I didn’t think of the lemon and you…”

“We are a team, are we not?” he asked. “If we don’t help each other out, we won’t get very far.”

Emma nodded as she watched the judges sampled Regina’s deconstructed apple pie next and remarked over the perfectly brown color and firm yet soft texture of the dough that she had apparently made from soft rolls. Looking down at her own small tarts, Emma frowned. How had Regina browned the practically anemic-looking rolls? Their only source of heat were the votive candles used in the decor. It would not have been enough.

“Either she can conjure fireballs in her hands,” Killian whispered to her, his mind clearly on the same page as his partner, “or she had a blowtorch in her purse.”

***AAA***

Someone would probably complain, Emma thought as she slid her key into the lock at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. One of the remaining contestants would see a conflict of interest with the teams being required to live for the week where Killian normally worked and she had connections with through Ruby. Officially, Granny was not part of the competition or crew, but she was a comforting sight to the chefs who knew her. Granny had even let Killian sneak into the kitchen and make snacks between the rounds. But at that moment Emma didn’t really care where she slept.

The impromptu round of competition at the kick off party had left both Mal and her daughter and Sean and Philip eliminated for uninspired food. During the the second round, a romantic dinner for a couple on their first date, Regina and Zelena again came in first. That challenge had resulted in Mulan and Arthur being knocked out for overcooking the duck. The duo had left arguing with each other to the end over who had turned the burner up so high.

Emma wasn’t proud of her performance yet. She and Killian had been near the middle on the first round and second place in the second round. At least they hadn’t been in the bottom, but they would need to pull out two strong showings to get through to the finals.

All the teams had been doing interviews for talking-head pieces and reshoots of critical moments until nearly midnight, followed by decompressing drinks after that. Since two of the remaining teams were married couples, and the other included a complicated relationship between two sisters, she had found herself naturally pairing off with Killian. At least that was what she told herself as she found herself laughing at his jokes and sharing witty observations.

“It hardly seems worth the trouble,” Killian had said when he opened the door to stairwell that led the back part of Granny’s and all the quaintly nostalgic rooms. “If I was assured a good night’s sleep in the near future, I might just stay awake to avoid the grogginess of competing after an hour or two’s nap.”

“You’re not totally wrong about that,” Emma said, lacing her fingers together and lifting her arms to stretch. She didn’t miss the way that Killian’s eyes focused on that bit of skin exposed by her rising shirt. “But it’s hard to resist the idea of shutting my eyes for a few minutes. Knowing me, I’ll probably sleep through my alarm though.” She lowered her arms and jokingly collapsed against the door, her forehead touching the cool wood.

“Go,” Killian said, his accent thicker with the lack of sleep. “I’ll be sure to come wake you if I don’t hear you rooting about when you should.” If she hadn’t closed her eyes for that moment, she might have noticed how he rubbed the pad of his thumb against his fingertips as if wanting to reach out and touch her.

“I don’t know that I trust you enough for that. I mean I barely trust my alarm clock. I meant what I said earlier. Thanks for your help today. I’m sorry that I doubted your abilities.”

“It’s my pleasure, Emma. Perhaps we might have a cup of coffee in the morning and discuss our game plan?”

She closed her eyes briefly. “Would that mean getting up earlier? Because no matter how cute you are, Killian Jones, you aren’t worth losing sleep over.” Later when she was in bed, eyes heavy and breathing controlled, she remembered calling him cute. It cost her another few minutes of sleep as she tried to recall his reaction to it. Sleep encompassed her before she ever had the chance to remember his pleased and yet shocked smile and sort of shuffle step that spoke of humility.

It turned out that having coffee with him didn’t require her to lose any sleep. A few moments after her alarm went off, she heard the knock on her door. He stood on the other side, freshly showered and hair damp as he ran a hand over his chin. “Just ensuring you are awake and ready to compete. We’re to gather outside the diner in a bit. I presume you’ll be there?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and squinted at him blearily. “I’m awake,” she said, her voice sounding slightly hoarse from the short time of disuse. “Are you…”

“Not a morning person, I see. No matter, Emma. I’ll get us that coffee and we can share it while we await our next assignment.”

Sure enough, when they joined the others and listened to a litany of rules about the next round, he slid a foam cup into her hand and moved his own cup toward hers as if to say cheers. “Can’t have you falling asleep in your mise en place.”

She took a sip of the warm, strong liquid, swallowing as she rolled her head back in a mocking display of supposed ecstasy over the drink. “You seem to be racking up points there, Chef. Are you trying to weasel your way into my good graces so that I’ll let you win if we’re the final two?”

“I’ve been accused of being devious, but I assure you that’s not the case here. I’m just trying to be a good teammate. And if caffeine makes you more alert and a better competitor, I have no issue in fetching it for you.”

It was not that she wasn’t grateful. She was. But she had said thank you a dozen times at least to the man who seemed half pirate and half Yoda with his sage advice and ability to understand her better than most after 24 hours of knowing each other. It made her feel both supported and inadequate in a way that made her uncomfortable. She was used to winning competitions that focused on traditional techniques and the artistry of food. This competition was a different beast with limited time and ingredients, the focus being creativity and ingenuity rather than skill and precision.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered from behind the raised cup.  

“Doing what? Bringing you coffee? I thought we already established that I want you to be in top form. I’m not here to lose, darling.”

“Competing.” She noted that Zelena seemed to be gazing in their direction while pretending to listen to something her sister was saying. Tilting her head toward Killian, Emma lowered her voice further. “I know it’s about the money, but is there something more?”

“I suppose we all have our reasons,” he said, his eyes glinting as she leaned closer. “The money is as good as any for me. I competed before, you know, and walked out before I could be kicked off for a mess of a dish that should have been a slam dunk.”

She frowned. “Redemption?”

“Something like that. I paid a hefty price for my exit and wanted to buy back what was once mine.”

She didn’t get to ask him any more than that, as the instruction sheets for the next challenge were announced by August. Contestants would be left with $20 to scrounge for food on a small island about 30 minutes away. There was only one small store on the island, five homes, and otherwise only natural resources.

“We’ll be taking a ferry over to the island in just a few minutes. Pack up your knives. You’ll have an outdoor kitchen with equipment and basic seasonings on the island.” He smiled, cleared his throat and delivered the lines again, letting the cameras get him from another angle. “You’ll also have access to equipment for fishing or hunting. Not both.”

Killian gave Emma a quick glance. “Any ideas now?”

“Not so much,” Emma said, standing and slinging her knife bag over her shoulder. “You’re the seafood guy. Feel like fishing?”

***AAA***

The ride to the island was shorter than they had hoped, leaving very little time for strategizing after Mr. Gold reiterated the expectations that they should all interact more and show their dislike for the other teams. It was Ariel who noted loudly that he seemed to only talk about personalities and not the flavors or food. When they got there it was still early morning and there was nothing man-made to be seen in their direct vicinity other than the dock. The heat of the day was not even in full force, but the contestants were already shedding their chef jackets. Emma noticed that Killian’s fitted black t-shirt made him look more like a male model than a chef, and couldn’t miss his appreciative gaze at the gray tank clinging to her own defined curves.

Mary Margaret and David were the only ones who chose to hunt rather than fish, but that didn’t surprise Emma. Mary Margaret was known for her prowess with a bow and arrow and was sure to bring back some sort of protein that was unattainable to the rest. Killian admitted that he was not much use with that or a crossbow, leaving them to take the rudimentary pole, line, and hook.

“You want to fish while I check out the store for what it’s got?” Emma asked, cupping her hand over her eyes and squinting to see if she could spot the place they were told was close. “I am not expecting much, but I’d like to hit it before we worry about making camp.”

“Aye,” he said, looking over at Zelena who was going to do the fishing for the sisters. That might be worth sticking around for just to watch. “I’m not sure we have much of a list or a plan, but it’s best to be getting on with it. See if you can find some fresh vegetables for a salad.”

It was still early summer, so produce was not going to be at its peak. Still, Emma was hoping to find some lemon for the fish. Perhaps some of the homeowners would have rice or pasta that she might trade for or some sort of starch. Turning back toward Killian who was already carefully threading the fishing line, she frowned. “Do you think we might look for clams? It’s early in the season for them so they’d be small, but just imagine!”

“Brilliant! You head to that store, and I’ll see what I can do about getting some clams.”

Emma threw her chef jacket onto the pile of camping gear and darted ahead to try to beat some of the others. She ended up being second to arrive at the store that sold little more than jerky and fishing bait and lures. But she was able to get a pack of smoked bacon for less than $2, knowing that would highlight most any fish Killian caught.  

As she walked along the path toward two of the houses, she slapped at a mosquito that had been buzzing about her. The marshy area of the island was a breeding ground for these nuisances that seemed to be ready to feast on her. The first family she met was nice, but had very little in terms of fresh food. Still she managed to obtain a can of creamed corn, half a bag of rice, and two rather small onions. The second family offered her some cereal--a sugary, oddly colored mess that she couldn’t imagine using, a small bottle of wine that was the type you’d find on sale at a grocery store, and two unopened cans of beer, which they gave her in exchange for her butternut squash soup recipe.

Despite the last few years in New York, Emma was sure that she had never walked so much. Her sensible chef shoes were caked with muddy wet sand and had started to rub her feet raw. Hair was escaping her expertly braid and her skin was pink from the sun and numerous slaps trying to kill the mosquitos. Worst of all, she was limping from a tumble over an exposed root.

“Catch anything?” she asked when she stumbled back to the shore, dropping down to the sand with her finds beside her.

“In the cooler there.” Next to him was a blue cooler on wheels with their names written on neon green tape. She peeked in to find ice and two blue fish. It was a disappointing haul, as blue fish tended to be on the oily side and trashy. She added the bacon and covered it all back again.

“Blue fish?”

“Aye, we’d have better luck if we were on a boat, but blue fish it is. Cut out the bloodline and it should be tasty. I was thinking we might make a taco if we had…”

“I’m afraid I didn’t get much for tacos.” She showed him the assorted items. “I was thinking maybe soup with the clams. A nice broth and steamed clams is always a good choice. And we could beer-batter the blue fish. That might be good.” Sliding her shoes off, she rubbed her feet. “There’s three more houses so we might get lucky for some other sides. I just needed a moment to rest.”

He shifted his weight and watched as his lure bobbed out ahead on the water. “Perhaps we should switch. I can go to the other three and you could see to the fishing. I’ll take the shore route so I can look for clams while I’m at it.”

“I’ll stay.” Looking over at some of their competitors, she could see that Eric had nearly filled the cooler with different fish and was well on his way to setting a record. Zelena’s container was empty, but she seemed unfazed by the lack of protein.

He bent down and helped her put some of the ice on her already swelling foot. “You’re sure you’re alright? We don’t need to call the medic team, do we?” The tips of his fingers lingered at the ends of the makeshift ice pack. “I could carry you back to the ferry.”

She refused his offer by rolling her eyes. And by the time he returned she had more than doubled their stock of blue fish by catching three more and adding two stripers while she was at it.

“You’re lucky,” Zelena had told her, with a knowing  smile. “Killian’s not bad to look at in the least.” Like they had assumed, Zelena wasn’t the most adept at catching fish and had fallen face first into the sand. Yet, she had come out of the faceplant looking alluring and camera ready. Her tank top was tied just under her breasts and her damp hair was curling in a way that most women paid good money to recreate.

Emma wanted to ignore the woman who was clearly trying to get into her head with talk like that. Instead she concentrated on pulling in her line and casting it again. So what if Zelena was right? He wasn’t bad to look at. He was a good cook. He seemed like a good guy. That was the problem, she thought as the water rippled in front of her. She didn’t get nice guys. She got guys who wanted quick flings. She attracted guys who had wives and wanted to keep their trysts a secret. She got liars and scoundrels. She never got the nice guy. And she had made her peace with it.

“I found a few things,” Killian said, dumping the sack. “And…” he pulled out the other smaller sack from the loop of his belt. About 20 clams. It’ll be a feast.”

She limped over to where he was standing, ignoring the blatantly concerned look on his rugged face. “Good job,” she said, offering uncharacteristic praise. Wrinkling her nose, she pointed at some items in the sack. “Green tomatoes? Those aren’t tomatillos. What were you thinking?”

“It’s too early in the season for ripe ones. But I once knew a southern chef who taught me how to make a fantastic fried green tomato. I also thought about pickling them in some vinegar for a nice relish to go atop our beer battered blue fish.” He began to collect their ingredients. “We should go make camp, love, and get our kitchen in order. Can you walk?”

“I’ve got this,” she said, throwing one of the bags of food over her shoulder. She nearly lost her balance, but by throwing her hands up like a gymnast on an apparatus, she returned to normal. The concern in his expression was both comforting and disconcerting as she slapped his pack against his chest. “Let’s go, Chef.”

It didn’t take long to get to the camping area. Concerned about her ankle, Killian volunteered to set up the tent after getting the fire going. This allowed Emma to cut and prep the food. It didn’t get past Emma that he was instilling a lot of trust in her, as she fileted the fish instead of him. He didn’t even mention that her cuts, while good, were not at the same angle that he would have done and probably left too much yield on the bone. She appreciated that.

“It’s been a while since I cooked outside,” she said, mixing the marinade for the blue fish by hand since there was no electricity for the equipment she normally used for the purpose.

“Girl Scout camp?” he queried, looking at her curiously.

“Hardly. I was a foster kid so organized events that people paid good money to do were out of the question. I’ve done this with some friends over the years though and always remember how much I love it.”

“Aye, it’s something I always say I should do more of, but time and circumstances rarely allow for it.” He poked at the fire to stir it up a bit and peered over the lip of the pot where the clams were soaking in the broth of cornmeal, creamed corn, white wine, a little butter and a few dried herbs. “Good choice to go ahead and start our clams, love. I rather like the idea of letting the soup simmer overnight to build flavor.”

She smiled at his compliment, covering the fish in the bowl with the beer based marinade. He had managed to find a package of tortillas. While they wouldn’t be as good as homemade, they would do well for a soft fish taco.

The only thing missing was dessert, but the selections had been low. So far their one idea was to grill the two bananas they had gotten from one of the homes to make what would resemble sauteed plantains.

“It was a good find,” he said, plopping down next to her. His forearms rested on his bent legs. “Let me see your ankle.”

She frowned, closing the lid to the cooler. “It’s fine, Killian. I promise.”

“Aye, no doubt that you will deny it hurts until it bloody well falls off. But despite your protests that you are fine, as you say, and refusals to utilize the medic, I have concerns. I can see from here that the swelling is still present.” He extended his right hand and wiggled his fingers in her direction to encourage her. “I promise to be gentle.”

Frowning, she straightened her leg and extended it in his direction. Even through the soft denim of her pants, she could feel his fingers gently running down the long limb probably more than he had to in order to inspect the injury to her ankle. She didn’t protest though, even minimizing her breathing to near stillness as he pushed up on the end of her jeans. “See, it’s fine.”

“It’s still swollen and a bit warm to the touch. We should get you one of our packs to use for elevating it. Can’t do to have you limping about tomorrow when we must be at our best.” He quickly doctored up a way for her to elevate her ankle and keep it cool with ice.

Quirking an eyebrow at her as she reached down to adjust the ice over her injury, he smiled. “I suppose I should volunteer to wait on you hand and foot as it were. We have a few things leftover that we won’t be using tomorrow. Might I offer you something to eat or drink?”

She fell back onto her elbows, craning her neck to look at the sky through the canopy of trees overhead. “It feels weird to have a campfire and no s’mores. But if we had chocolate and marshmallows, we would have a good dessert option.”

“Perhaps next time.”

Her head fell to one side and she caught his gaze. “You assume there will be a next time for us to camp. I’m kind of hoping the rest of the competition will be indoors.”

He didn’t clarify what he meant. Instead, he stood up and foraged through the odd assemblage of ingredients they weren’t using. Stooping over the cooler, he frowned at the addition of the two fish she had not mentioned. “You got stripers?”

“Not enough for the competition,” she admitted, “but yeah. What do you say to using them for dinner?”

“I’d say my assessment about you being brilliant is correct.” He lifted the two fish up and waggled his eyebrows. “A feast for two it is. And I say we crack open that second beer. No sense letting it go to waste.”

Later she was holding the paper plate with the rather meager but well cooked dinner on her lap. “I’m not too much of a foodie to enjoy beer out of a can.” Reaching over, she plucked it from his hand and popped the cap. She took a long gulp of the cold and bitter beverage. “Reminds me of college.”

Chuckling, he took his own sip and settled next to her again. “I think I’d have liked to have seen that. You in your younger days, carefree, and a bit wild. It must have been a sight.”

She broke a bit of the flakey fish off with her fork. “I don’t think I was ever carefree. But I did have friends and enjoyed the occasional party.”

He had yet to bite into the food, his eyes studying her slightly sunburned face. “I would say that it is a shame that you didn’t experience that state of being carefree, but I doubt you would accept the condolences. I’m sure that your beginnings made you into who you are today.”

“And have you figured that out yet?” she asked.

“As I told you, you’re an open book in many ways,” he finally took a bite of the fish, his eyes closing briefly to assess the taste and texture of his own work. Opening them again, he met her green and curious eyes. “But I would never tell a lass that I have her all figured out. You do continually surprise me.”

“In a good way?” she asked before closing her mouth around the fork again.

“The best,” he confirmed. “I know we are only paired for a short time, but I feel like you have challenged me at each step. That’s an impressive feat for a New York City chef competing in Maine.”

“And that’s what you’ve figured out, that I’m a New York City chef?”

“Aye, that and that you love garlic and cinnamon, though not together. You worry more over what your diners are thinking of your food than the classical flavors and techniques we learned in classes. There’s something about perfect knife cuts that makes you smile. I think you probably prefer gelato to ice cream. And while you are clearly a savory chef, you have a sweet tooth.”

The tenderness in his tone and expression amazed her as she waited for the sarcastic punch to hit. It didn’t. “You might be right,” she answered so softly that he barely heard it.

“I know that you enjoy your work as an executive chef, but you have dreams that are bigger than that. Perhaps that’s the wrong word though. I think you probably have simpler dreams that involve cooking your own food in your own restaurant.” He brushed a bit of sand off his leg.

“Don’t all chefs want that? And you think you have me figured out by watching me cook?”

“By watching you in general,” he clarified, bowing his head and murmuring the words. “You are quite guarded, but there are moments, just a few, when you let the real you out to the world.”

His face was so close to hers in that moment that she barely had to lift her head to press her lips to his. If he was shocked, he did not reveal it except by a slight gasp. Slow and thoughtful, his lips moved against hers with gentle firmness. A moment later he pulled back a fraction of an inch, the blue of his eyes dark in the dim light of the fire. An errant curl that had escaped her messy braid was between his fingers as he studied her.

“Don’t,” she said, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand. “Don’t apologize or make an excuse. Please.”

“I wasn’t intending to,” he said, leaning his cheek further into her palm. “Perhaps you might be willing to share a bit more about your beginnings. I would be honored to know you better.”

She yawned and watched the wispy gray strands of smoke rise from the fire and disappear into the night sky. “Not much to tell. I changed home every few months and learned to travel light.”

“Never a home that stuck?”

“Well, there was one when I was about 14. A woman named Ingrid. She had a few of us she watched over. And one by one they were either reunited with their parents or found adoptive parents. I didn’t.” She was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to encourage her perhaps. While he said nothing, his eyes studied her in that attentive way he had. “Soon it was just me. She tried to adopt me, but it didn’t go through or maybe she changed her mind. I moved on to another group home and didn’t know why. It hurt. Not knowing why the one person who seemed to want me left me too. God, I should be over this. I am a grown adult now.”

“I don’t know if we ever get over not being wanted,” he answered. His arm rested on her shoulders and his hand dangled until she caught it with her own, locking their fingers together. “Wounds are made when we’re young tend to linger.”

“Sounds as though you have a few of those wounds too?”

“Nobody makes it through their youth unscathed. Some are just luckier than others, I suppose.” His thumb trailed over the fleshy part of her hand.

She tilted her head to better look at him. “Tell me?”

He gave her a short version of the loss of his mother, betrayal of a father, and loss of a brother who he had adored. There was talk of the boat that he had always wanted and the loss of it.

“You mean that Gold was the producer on that show? He sued you and you chose to come back again?”

“I’m not proud of that performance, love. He doesn’t seem that concerned though.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully. “No, he doesn’t seem concerned about much other than the drama of the competition. So if you win, you’ll buy back your boat?”

“That’s the plan. What about you? Some posh and proper bistro in New York?”

“Actually, I’m looking at a place here in Maine,” she admitted, her head hitting his shoulder as she told him of Ingrid leaving her a tall Victorian house that was way too big for her to live in and screamed out as perfect for a seaside restaurant. Her voice sounded dreamy as they discussed menus and sustainable fishing that would make the place her dream. Her eyes closed as she imagined simple elegance and clean flavors.

“As enjoyable as this moment is, love, I was just thinking that perhaps we should be considering sleep. We got precious little last night, and tomorrow…”

“You really shouldn’t be so practical,” she said, throwing back her head with a moan of frustration. “Because now I am going to think about how much I want to sleep.”

Laughter from Mary Margaret and David’s camp filled the circle of campers, while the lights of the camera crew at Regina and Zelena’s site drove away some of the feeling of purity from the experience of camping. “I don’t regret it, Emma. I just would rather kiss you without the fear that your sleep addled brain wasn’t wondering who I was or about my intentions.”

“I know who you are, Killian. You’re not the only one who has been paying attention.”

***AAA***

Mr. Gold and the judges arrived around 10 a.m. the next morning, though filming had been going on for a while. None of the teams were particularly chatty with each other as they put the finishing touches on their plates. With Emma’s limp less pronounced and the swelling going down, she was hurrying about as if there wasn’t a problem. Stirring the freshly chopped onion into the green tomato salsa, she didn’t see  it when it happened, but she certainly heard it.

When she looked up, she saw Killian take about five steps back from the fire with his left hand cradled in his right. She dropped the spoon into the mixing bowl and hurried over to him. “Are you alright?”

His eyes were narrow and glassy as he stared at his hand as if it had commented some sort of offensive treachery. The towel that he normally wore over his shoulder or at his waist was haphazardly covering his hand, but Emma could already see the red splotches of blood coming through the thin fabric.

“Killian, look at me,” she said, steering him away from the fire. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

It was David who alerted the medic to the problem and Ariel who flagged down one of the production assistants. Emma didn’t move from his side until he reminded her of their task. “Get the fish. It’ll burn if we leave it too long.”

“You can’t possibly be thinking about food right now,” she hissed.

“Aye, and you are too. Go win this thing, Emma. I’ll be fine.”

Squeezing her hand on his thigh, she put on a new set of cooking gloves and checked the fish that was close to overdone at that point. His knife was on the ground, as was the lime that didn’t look quite ripe enough. She pulled the fish, and using her own knife, rough chopped the blue fish for the tacos. Her eyes and focus were on Killian, who looked to be in pain as the medic spoke to him and the production assistant in hushed tones.

Skirting around the cameraman who was capturing her own nervous reaction on tape, she grabbed for the box of salt and seasoned the clams heartily before going back to throw the premade tortillas on the grate of their makeshift grill. Killian had spoken earlier about the importance of heating them just before the judging, which would a smoky flavor. The bacon would create that as well, she thought. So with her stealthy glance still on Killian, she threw the bacon slices onto the grill grate and heated them. Once they were crispy enough, she broke them into smaller pieces and combined them in the salsa. There was still quite a bit left over and so as a last minute addition, she threw the rest of crumbled bacon into the broth.

“Chef Swan,” Mr. Gold said, his cane digging into the sandy earth. “I know you must be frantic what with your partner’s injury, but if you would be a dear.”

“What do you want?” Emma asked distractedly.

His sickening sweet smile grew wider as he watched her push back her hair with her forearm. “Dearie, you know we are filming a television show here. It’s important that we have these details, you know.”

“Look, I’ve got seven minutes left and a lot of plating to do. Can we just get on with it?”

“Of course. I just hoped we might shoot some B-roll of you doing a few things around the fire. Stirring your food? Adding some herbs or spices? You’ve got a box of salt there. Why don’t you pretend to put some in while we film?”

The exhale of her breath sent the errant hairs around her face flying as she grabbed the salt and poured some into her hand. “Can you do that again, a little slower this time?” Gold asked.

She said nothing, adding more to the heaping mound. Her head turned to get a better view of what they were doing to Killian as two EMTs were rushed in from the direction of the docks. Her stomach dropped and her hand shook as she felt the salt overflow from her cupped hand. She jerked it back and dropped the rest of the mound down to the sand. “Excuse me,” she told the producer and cameraman, pushing past them to hurry over to Killian.

“What’s going on?” she asked, staring down at his wrist and hand now covered in bandages.

“They want to get an x-ray of it, but I may have sliced my tendon,” Killian said, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing with anger. “I’m a bloody klutz to have used the knife so carelessly.”

“Oh God,” Emma said, yanking her glove off to touch him. “Are you in pain? What am I asking? Of course, you’re in pain. I’m going with you to the hospital. I want…”

“Emma, the competition…you need to be here for the judges. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back for the next round. We’ve both got plans for that money.”

Only, he wasn’t back for the next round and neither was Emma. While he was being taken to the hospital, Emma had stood alone at the table where she served the residents of the island and the judges the fish tacos, rice, and clams in the white wine broth. She had run out of time to make the dessert, but nobody could really blame her when she was working alone on a two person task. No, the complaints weren’t about the lack of sweetness. They were instead about the saltiness of the clams in their broth. She had seasoned them too much and the added bacon had made the dish so salty that it was inedible to most of the people there.

With her head lowered and bile rising in her stomach, she heard the news announced that she and Killian were eliminated from the competition.

***AAA***

“So I called that contractor about redoing the floor at Ingrid’s,” Ruby said two months later as she breezed into the kitchen of the restaurant where Emma was working. “He said he could do them next week. Great, right?” Steam from the pots and pans on the stove rose high and the clatter of plates from the wait staff echoed in the room.

Emma slid the pan into the oven and closed it with a resounding slam. Lifting her knife, she returned to the vegetables on the cutting board and began to chop. “Excuse me, but did we somehow come into money that I’m not aware of or something? Because last time I looked at my bank account, I was not seeing it. After I oversalted my last dish on the show, I am lucky my boss didn’t fire me.”

Ruby plucked one of the berries out of the dish waiting to be cut and popped it into her mouth. “So you’ll get a loan. It’s the American way.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, her knife rocking against the bamboo board. “Ruby, you know this business better than I do. I can’t just go get a loan to redo a house as a restaurant. I’d need equipment, staff, food, insurance…I can’t do it. I’m going to be cooking someone else’s vision for the rest of my life.”

“Pity party, table for one,” Ruby chided, leaning her elbows onto the cold surface of the prep table. “Look, you did well on that show. I’ve been watching the raw tape. Investors are already impressed..”

“I oversalted the food, nearly burned the fish, and…”

“And they still had a hard time deciding whether or not to send you and Killian home. By the way, he’s doing better. Granny’s got him back in the kitchen on the days he isn’t doing physical therapy for his hand.”

Her non-response included spinning around to add some freshly chopped peppers to the simmering pot on the stove. Other than the tense rise of her shoulders and the shallowness of her breath, Emma’s reaction to hearing his name would have gone unnoticed by someone who wasn’t her best friend.

“When I went to visit her for her birthday, he asked about you, you know? Wanted to know how you were doing.”

“And I’m sure you told him,” Emma answered sourly. “Ruby, I screwed it up for us. He trusted me and I screwed it up. He needed that money too.” Her eyes dropped as she remembered the wistful way he had spoken about his boat and the idea of sailing along the shore with no real destination in mind. Truthfully, the thought appealed to her too.

“And that happens sometimes. It was a competition, Emma. You either win or lose. It’s not like you don’t get other chances. There’s another show that is casting right now. I could make calls. But I think we need to look at this one a little bit closer. And maybe explain why you didn’t even go to the hospital to see him when he got injured. I know you’re a great winner, Emma, but I thought you had it in you to be gracious in losing too.”

“You know why I didn’t go,” Emma said, her voice trembling. “I let him down and couldn’t face him. It was easier to just go back to what I know best and move on. I’m too much of a broken mess to even deal with screwing up like that.” It had just been a kiss, she told herself, ignoring that they had talked late into the night and she had slept with her head on his chest as he watched the fire that night. It was easier to say it meant nothing. Who would go traipsing after a guy in another state after a single kiss?

“I think he has a thing for broken messes. I don’t know if you saw it, but his eyes light up when he says your name.” Ruby’s smile grew. “It’s not even something he can hide.”

“What? With anger?” Emma tried to joke. It fell flat.

“No, I wouldn’t call it that.” Ruby dug into the designer knock off bag she carried and pulled out a DVD. “This is the raw cut of the show. Would you do me a favor and watch it? Just watch it? Even if you don’t enjoy seeing his obvious interest in you, you’ll appreciate the take down of Regina and Zelena for cheating. The look on Gold’s face when he realized his own interference was going to cost them is priceless.”

“I don’t have time for television shows,” Emma said, drowning out Ruby’s response with the blender. When she finished making the sauce, her friend was gone and the disc sat catching the light on the counter. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to watch.

***AAA***

“You could call her,” Robin suggested, passing a plate to one of the servers at Granny’s. “If you don’t know her number, you at least know where she works.”

“Are you suggesting I show up there and stalk her?” Killian asked as he slid another pancake onto the plate and doused the stack with syrup. “Hi, I’m the now one-handed git who works one step above fast food and kissed you that one time. Fancy a drink?”

“Don’t be dramatic. You have two hands.” Robin shrugged, having heard his friend’s pitiful excuses before. “And no, I was thinking more along the lines of calling her there. But if you think showing up would work better, I vote for that. Take some time off. You got that insurance settlement that is going to make a hefty downpayment on that 30-foot Catalina sailboat and your appearance fee for the show.. So why not a trip to New York?”

“No thanks, mate. Rejection is not something I would like to relive.”

“Have you always been this stubborn?”

“It’s one of my more lovable traits, mate. That and my ability to cheat at any game of poker. Speaking of which, are you hosting this week or is it John?” Killian flexed and stretched his left hand carefully as the doctors had instructed. The surgery to reattach the tendon was arduous and the recovery tough. But he was trying to do his exercises nightly and had spent hours in therapy to better use the injured appendage.

“You care for her. And from the footage the Widow Lucas’s granddaughter showed me, the woman seemed to fancy you too. I don’t know why she didn’t visit your lousy arse in the hospital. But I do suspect that a call from you wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

The ding of the bell from one of the servers indicated another order being placed. Killian reached for it and nearly faltered as his hand cramped up. Tearing it down on his second try, he grimaced. “Not now.”

***AAA***

Emma spooned some of the whipped cream onto the steaming mug of hot chocolate and watched as globs of it melted away. With a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, she curled her hands around the too hot mug and padded on sock covered feet into the living room.

Normally Ruby didn’t wait up for her unless she wanted something, but she had yet to say a single word as she sat curled up on the loveseat reading a bodice ripping romance and munching on cheese doodles. Dipping a finger into the whipped cream and licking it, Emma watched her friend expectantly. Ruby simply turned the page in her novel and chewed louder on the cheddar flavored snack.

“Fine,” Emma said, curling her legs under her and reaching for the remote. “I’ll watch the damn footage. Happy?”

Ruby said nothing and simply dragged a cheesy finger across the page in her demonstration of concentrated reading.

The large screen filled with scenes of the short time they were in the competition, Emma recognizing the efforts the contestants made. What she hadn’t noticed at the time was becoming increasingly clear on the video evidence. Killian’s eyes often lingered on hers and his smiles became brighter each time she spoke to him or showed any attention in his direction. When she smarted off at one of the judges, he was practically beaming with pride. Her own reaction wasn’t exactly subtle either.

“The interviews are even better,” Ruby said, finally dropping her book and pretense.

Ruby was right. Killian spoke of food with great respect and passion, but he was speaking of her with nearly equal reverence. His face flushed and his words stuttered when someone off camera asked if there was something going on between them.

“This isn’t making me feel better,” Emma complained, sipping down more of the chocolate drink. “Why am I even watching this? So what if he was interested in me? I clearly ruined it by getting us kicked off the show and then being too chicken to even show up to see him at the hospital.”

“Right,” Ruby said, digging her hand into the bag and pulling out another crisp puff. “I mean nothing to see here. Move on.”

Emma frowned at the screen as Regina and Zelena waxed philosophical about their differences of opinions and similar palates. Then the footage of Killian’s injury filled the screen, followed by her mistake, and then the announcement that she lost. Her finger hovered over the stop button on the remote when Ruby told her to wait. “For what?”

The image of Killian in his hospital bed filled the screen and Emma let her finger continue to hover. “It was my fault,” Killian told the camera, his expression somber and his face pale against the starched sheets of his bed. “I had already salted the broth and didn’t tell her. She didn’t know.”

“But he didn’t salt it,” Emma protested to the television. “I know. He wasn’t near the pot of broth. He was trying to cut that lime and…”

Ruby reached over and pulled the remote from her friend’s hand. “Pretty dramatic statement, right? He was trying to take the blame for your mistake.”

“That’s just…”

“Romantic?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I was going with stupid.”

“Right,” Ruby said, nodding thoughtfully. “Stupidly romantic then.”

Ruby made her watch the rest: the stunning disqualification of Regina and Zelena in the penultimate round for cheating, followed by a black screen with white typography stating that Mr. Gold had been removed from the production for his part in sneaking the women ingredients, tools, and recipes in some sort of deal for them to win and become the faces of his brand of frozen dinners, and the thrilling showdown between the married couples resulting in a close victory for David and Mary Margaret. Between the winning pair, it was Mary Margaret who won the whole thing though you couldn’t tell by the exuberant celebration. As Ruby turned off the television, Emma sank back against the cushions of her couch. “I can’t believe he did that. He could have let me take the blame; it’s my fault. I don’t get it. Why did he do that?”

Exasperated, Ruby threw the blanket covering her legs off and stood up from the love seat. “Ask him, Emma. Freaking ask him. I gassed up your car. I packed you an overnight bag. I called your boss and traded in some of that vacation time you’ve been hoarding. I was trying to trick you into going to Maine with me to see about your plans for the restaurant at Ingrid’s old house. I even lined up some investor appointments so you can do this the real way instead of the competition show way. But I’m going for the emotional appeal. Now get your ass in gear, put some hot chocolate in a thermos, and go ask him yourself.”

“Ruby…”

Her exasperated friend was jangling the car keys in front of her. “You can yell at me in the car. Let’s go. We’ll talk about the restaurant on the way.”

***AAA***

Granny’s most frequent customer had sent the meatloaf back twice, claiming it was bland. Killian was ready to kill him. A scent of burnt grease permeated the air as he directed the two line cooks to prepare the easier dishes between shouted replies from the restaurant’s proprietor.

Sashaying into the kitchen, Granny lifted the lid on the rosemary laced tomato sauce and breathed in the scent before turning her attention toward Killian. “Take a break would you? You’re clearly not on your game today.”

He dropped his mouth open to speak, but shut it in recognition that she was right. “I’m just going to take a walk.”

The older woman’s glasses swung from around her neck as she leaned over to inspect another pot simmering away. “Go on with you,” she said cheerily. “Be back in a bit?”

“Sure,” he said, wadding up his apron and pushing through the back door. He knew better than to say he was getting fresh air when all he could smell was the stench of the dumpsters. He rounded the building and was about to head east toward the docks when he saw what appeared to be the familiar blonde head of his television partner. It couldn’t be, he thought bitterly. Why would she be in Maine?

He was already at the docks by the time Granny quit hugging Emma and telling her to stop being a stranger. And he had bought a pound of fresh scallops for a dish he wanted to try by the time Granny had lectured Emma about her lack of confidence in taking chances. He was a block away when Emma ordered her favorite grilled cheese and Granny told her that she was short-handed, so cook it herself.

He caught sight of her standing at the grill before she even turned around. “Best keep your eye on it, or it will burn,” he said, not sure what else he could say in that moment that wouldn’t be clichéd or heavy handed.

She turned her head slightly to confirm his presence and then shifted her eyes back to the sandwich. “You think I don’t know how to cook something as simple as grilled cheese? I thought I was an open book.” She lifted the edge of the sandwich and studied it. “I guess not a cookbook though, right?”

“I think you traveled an awfully long way to eat a burnt sandwich.”

With a flick of her wrist the flame beneath the pan disappeared and she slid her sandwich onto the plate. It was then that he noticed she had made two. “I didn’t travel all this way just to make a sandwich I could easily do at home.”

He nodded, gesturing to the two prep cooks to take their breaks. He knew Granny wouldn’t mind. She might even understand.

Lifting the two plates high, she carried them over to the prep table in the middle of the room and gestured for him to join her. Along with the sandwiches, there were onion rings and a simple dipping sauce she had mixed just before he arrived.

“Why did you come here?” he asked as he took a seat on a stool that wobbled. “I didn’t really expect that you would show up here. I assumed you would rather forget our awful encounter.”

“This is where I could explain that I’m still going to open my restaurant here. But that’s not the reason right now. Or I could tell you how Ruby forced me. But I’m not big on following directions other than a recipe. So the shortest answer is to ask you why. Why did you try to save me when you didn’t do anything wrong? Why did  you risk your reputation?” Her voice faded into a hushed stillness that seemed unnatural for a restaurant kitchen.

“And you think I have the answers?” He licked his lips nervously. “I hate to shatter the illusion, love, but I don’t. When I heard what the judges said, I felt responsible. I had distracted you. You would not normally make such an error, so I tried to take a bit of the burden from you. Even if it wouldn’t get us back in the competition on a technicality, I didn’t want you to lose your dream of opening that restaurant. And with the way Gold seemed to be playing it, investors were going to be hard to convince to fund you.”

“You traded your chance at getting your ship back for me?”

“Aye.” He met her gaze with an unwavering focus.

She nodded slightly and gave a nervous laugh. “Besides, you made that amazing striper for me. I thought I owed you.”

“Grilled cheese in exchange for striper cooked over a fire?” he asked, straddling the stool across from her. “I do hope it’s the best grilled cheese ever.”

She broken off a bit of the sandwich and popped it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “So yeah, it’s the best thing I make. It’s the first thing I ever made actually. When I watched the bread brown and the cheese melt, it felt like I was performing magic.” She leaned back, suppressing a sigh. “And given how I screwed up whatever was going on between us, I could use a little magic right now.”

He bit into his with his dimples deepening. “I’m impressed. You make a hell of a grilled cheese and you shared a bit about your beginnings. And for the record, you didn’t screw anything up.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the hospital,” she blurted out. “I didn’t think you would want to see me. I didn’t think you would want me…”

“I must have done a piss poor job of showing you my intentions if you could think I didn’t want you, Emma. And you owe me no apology. I was there out of my own carelessness and to the detriment of our team. You must think me a complete…”

“I think of you,” she interrupted. “And not in a bad way. Look, I know we didn’t get to know each other that much. And I know we only kissed once, but I…I want to know you too Killian.”

“And I you.”

“So any suggestions on how we do this? I’ll admit that I’m not sure of the steps here. I’ll probably screw it up.”

Standing up and circling the rectangular table, he grinned as he pulled her up to stand. “I’m sure there is a recipe, love. Or we might make it up as we go along?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, matching his happy grin. “I think I can do that. Sometimes the best recipes are the ones you make up as you go along.”

His lips covered hers hungrily, devouring the softness. Arms around him, she melted into his embrace. And in that moment, their hearts like ingredients joined to make the perfect combination.  

#cslb 2018 #cslb #cs fanfiction #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction

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Notes: WARNING: This chapter has mentions to suicide and abortion.

The Truth About Him

It took Belle almost two months to decide that being a housewife wasn’t healthy for her. She felt absolutely bored during the first week but tried to convince herself that if she tried harder, it wouldn’t look so bad, so she started doing some non-stoppable cleaning, reorganised all the things Gold had gotten out of place – well, actually out of the place Belle considered right for them – brought all her stuff back from the library’s apartment, made research about Sarah’s future treatment with the stem cell, read lots of books and even tried to cook, but that life wasn’t for her.

She could do a million things in a day and she would still feel useless. It was during an afternoon tea with Alice and Grace in which she complained about how stagnated her life was that her friend suggested Belle could take a job at the school. Alice Madden was a teacher. One of the good ones, all the kids loved her and her joyful way of presenting new things. Belle had a Literature degree, but she had only ever worked in the library, so at the beginning she wasn’t sure if that could work.

Alice insisted in taking her there anyway and she met Jasmine Shirin, another teacher who was in need of an assistant. Belle had taken a walk around the corridors, seeing the children running around with notebooks in hand and suddenly, she smiled for herself, knowing it was something she could do and that would bring her a lot of joy, so she accepted the job and went home to tell the happy news to her husband.

Gold of course, was thrilled for her, he wanted her to take a rest from what was making her mind troubled and he was glad she had now found something that was healthy for her to do. Sarah spread the news about her mama working at her school in the next day, so then most of Storybrooke was knowing and whispering about it. She didn’t care. Belle told Archie this new job made her feel good and secure about herself in a way she hadn’t felt in months and he also supported her decision of taking it, so that was enough for her.

On Monday morning, Gold dropped Belle and Sarah at Granny’s for a special breakfast while he went on his journey of collecting the rent. It was her first day at the school, he had bought her a diamond necklace to celebrate it and they made passionate love in the night prior, which made Belle a bit sore in actual fact, but she couldn’t quite believe how happy she was feeling. She had a scan booked for the weekend, they would see their baby, discuss the plans for the birth and Sarah’s treatment and everything would be fine. Except for the one thing she didn’t want to think about.

After the scan, she planned on going to the cemetery and take some flowers to Bae and she hoped it wouldn’t affect her. The more her pregnancy advanced and the happier she felt, she was also reminded that Baden was no longer there to enjoy any of this with them.

Taking a long sip of her tea, she looked up at Sarah who was currently playing on the other side of the counter at Granny’s, being all spoiled by Mrs. Lucas, Ruby’s grandmother, while Ruby herself shoved a few – much more than a few – questions at Belle, who tried not to get annoyed at her best friend’s clear concern.

"Are you sure about that?"

"About my work?" Belle inquired. "Of course, I am. Alice was very gentle to help me getting it and I can't wait to start."

"But you quit from the library because you didn't want to face people," Ruby pointed out.

Sighing, Belle lifted her cup again, drinking all that was left of her tea before pushing it into Ruby's direction. She knew everybody had reasons to believe she couldn't do it, she was reluctant at first too, but Belle understood that her problem wasn't dealing with children nor with books as she did her whole life, but other people. Will, Regina and Hades were the main reasons why she decided to quit from the library.

"Yeah, cruel adults I mean," she shrugged. "I'll be working with kids, there is nothing wrong with that. Jasmine said they are learning how to read. It will be fascinating."

"I'm glad that makes you happy, Belle..." Ruby trailed off gesticulating towards her middle section. "But you're pregnant."

Oh, she was pretty aware of that. Her stomach was getting bigger and, in most clothes, people already see the solid curve of her bump, even with the loose dress she had chosen today it was pretty visible. She would never do anything that could put her child at risk, it was the sparkle that was shining from within her, bringing hope back to her life with the promise of saving Sarah too. Belle was careful, but she needed to do things for herself too.

"Ruby, I appreciate your concern, but you're not my mom! I will be fine, I promise."

"Alright," she snorted. "Guess I'll have to trust you."

"Good," the brunette smiled touching her shoulder before standing up. "Come on, Sarah, let Granny work, you and I have to go to school."

Rolling her eyes, Granny picked up a cookie and gave it to Sarah, pinching her rosy cheeks tenderly before letting the little girl follow her mother out of the diner. The school wasn't far from there and Belle thought a good walk was a nice way to start the day. She wasn't wearing any of her beloved high heels, which made it easier, but she considered earlier that the school wasn't the right place for this kind of shoes. And God forbid her from accidentally tripping and falling in her condition.

Belle took Sarah to her classroom first, leaving her with Mary Margaret and Alexandra who had also already arrived as her mother always had to go to work pretty earlier. She was glad Sarah didn't have to stay there all alone and went to the teacher's room with a lighter heart for knowing the two girls were currently colouring together in a good mood. The greatest part about being back home with Robert was that they could give her all those family moments she had been lacking in the past few months. Sarah never complained but both of them knew how much happier she was now. It was clear in the way she laughed and jumped cheerfully around the house.

Her dreams about Bae hadn't quite stopped, most mornings she would tell them about how they had spent hours talking and playing in a beautiful garden and how glad Baden was that their parents were back together and expecting a new child. Bobby and Belle got to the conclusion that Sarah missed him too much to simply let go. She looked healthier now that the meds were working, although sometimes she would still be too tired to do anything and would just want to sleep.

Caressing her bump, Belle told herself that very soon she would be cured and be back to who she was. She pushed the door open and peeked a look inside to see a bunch of women talking around a big table, some of them writing in notebooks, some just having a delayed breakfast. A petite brunette lifted her eyes to Belle and smile widely, waving at her.

"Hey, Belle, it is very nice to see you," she started, standing up and making her way towards her. "I think the kids will love having you around."

"Thanks, Jasmine."

She joined the teachers, being introduced to everyone and feeling nice for the first time in the presence of so many people. When the time came, Jasmine guided her to their classroom on the second floor and they waited until all of the children were settled on their tables before Jasmine stood in front of them.

"Alright you all," she started, gesticulating for Belle to stand up too. "Say hello to Mrs. Gold, our new class assistant."

"Hello, Mrs. Gold," the kids answered in unison.

Jasmine started her lessons and Belle sat back by her table, taking a few notes before she stood up and started to walk around the classroom to see if any of the children were having trouble doing them. She stopped by a little blonde girl and kneeled beside her, seeing how she stared confused at the words.

"Do you want some help with that?"

The girl nodded and presented herself as Amy and Belle helped her to put the letters together, repeating the sound of each one of them with her like she used to do with Bae and Sarah.

"Did you eat too much?" Amy asked at some point, dropping her eyes to her bump. "You have a full tummy."

"Oh, it is not food," Belle chuckled. "I'm having a baby."

Amy's eyes got wide and she had a few questions to Belle before she moved to the next child. Apparently that girl had never seen a pregnant woman before, which was quite amusing. She kneeled beside a skinny boy with a way too pale skin and black curled hair.

"My mom is afraid of your husband," he said as soon as she approached him.

"Is she?" Belle blinked.

"He always wants his rent and we never have enough money."

The kids had an interesting opinion about her husband, Belle found out. That was probably due to all the gossip about him and although she didn't agree with the way Gold used to threaten his tenants, but she knew that if he was a soft man with everybody he would never get his payment. It just didn't make her feel any less sorry for the people who really didn't have money to pay for the rent every month, like that poor boy.

By the end of the day, Belle was exhausted, but also very happy. She gathered her things and picked Sarah up from her class, thanking Mary Margaret for her day of work and going out of the school to find her husband waiting for them with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Smiling at him Belle kissed his lips, tucking Sarah inside the car alongside with their things and the roses which she thanked Gold for. He caught her in his arms, kissing the top of her head as he caressed her stomach.

"So, what do you think of your first day of teaching?"

"I think we are lucky parents," she said with a sigh. "They are a bunch of curious brats, but I like it."

"I'm glad you found something to do," he answered nuzzling his face at her neck. "I'd be sad if knitting was your only hobby."

A laugh escaped her at the remembrance of Gold and Sarah arriving home after a long day just to find her curled up on the couch, knitting white baby hats. She had never been good at it, but she got way too bored of everything, Belle opened her laptop and searched for video tutorials, thinking it would be a great way spending her time. Robert made fun of her whenever he found her knitting, telling Belle how much she reminded him of his aunties when she was doing that.

Stealing another kiss from his lips, she considered murmuring on his ear all the things she wished him to do with her that night, but Belle didn't quite have time for it, as a man approached them with a perfect sceptical smile on his lips.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gold," Jonathan Hades greeted them. "Hello."

Clutching her husband close, Belle felt her heart race in that painful pace it hadn't reached in weeks.

"Mr. Hades," Robert murmured back, nodding at him and trying to swallow the lump on his throat.

"Lovely afternoon, right? Sometimes I like taking long walks, watching the town moves and remember about remarkable events. The tool bridge and the park have seen quite memorable ones," Hades said with a dark smile that made her stomach twist and a shiver pass through her body. "I thought you weren't together anymore, but that's not a big surprise I guess."

Gold was still in her arms, his jaw clenched and his arms possessively wrapped around Belle, one holding her back as his left hand remained splayed on her bump.

"We should always fight for the ones we love," the brunette answered, wishing he would just go away.

"Oh, you're right, my dear," Hades agreed. "Now what really is surprising is that you have another bread on the oven."

Looking down, Belle noticed that her biggest fear was becoming true. Hades had found out about her pregnancy, well that counting that he hadn't yet heart about that. She knew every single person in town would eventually know about it, as her belly grew bigger to nestle that new life, but out of all the grumpy old people who could spread all the bad humours about them, the only one she feared knowing about that was Hades. Robert still knew things that could put him in jail and he could still want them dead.

"Our miracle," Belle finally replied, joining her hand with Gold's above her stomach.

"That's just touching," Hades said. "Miracles happen once in a while, but of course, you need to take care to not let them die or fade away."

"What - " Gold started but Belle interrupted him.

"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Hades," she finished off, letting it clear to him that this conversation was over.

"You too."

Hades dived his hands into his coat's pockets and followed his way down the street, leaving Isabelle and Robert Gold alone again. She saw as her husband released the air he was holding and his hands tightened in fists as he dropped them to his sides.

"God help me, Belle, I'm going to kill him."

"No," she exclaimed. "No, my love, you have to promise me you won't do this! I was wrong when I said I wanted Hades dead, we shall not avenge Bae with our own hands."

"He has just threatened our baby and he killed our boy," he yelled back and Belle was glad there was no one else around to hear it.

She took a look inside the car and saw that Sarah was thankfully distractedly playing with a stuffed duck singing to herself and not paying attention at all at her parents.

"I know," Belle whispered, covering her belly with a protective hand.

"The gun is still in my safe," Robert confided her, talking about the objected he had acquired right before Robin was killed and it became clear that Storybrooke was no longer a safe place to live. "I thought about taking my own life with it many times during our separation but now I think it can be of better use."

"Bobby..." Belle trailed off, taking a step into his direction and palming his cheek. "Please, don't speak like that anymore, I don't want you to ever feel like this again."

He snorted, but nodded, taking her back into his arms and pressing his forehead against hers.

"I won't," Gold promised. "I thought I would never find happiness again, but you are right, Belle, we must fight for the ones we love and that's why I must get rid of Hades."

"Look at my eyes," she asked as he had them shut close. "We have what we need and we will stay very far away from him, alright? Now, please take me home."

Kissing her wrist, Gold nodded, opening the car’s door for her and making his way to the driver’s side, not quite ready to forget Hades’ threat, but willing to take a break from his murderous thoughts towards him to take care of his family.

Rogers initially had plans of going straight to San Francisco as soon as Will Scarlet told him about Zelena Mills, but when in the next morning after it, he found out the idiot had been arrested for harassment, he decided to be careful and not trust his words so easily. Along the next few weeks, he made the most innocent questions he could to people around town about Robin as he tried to take any information about Zelena from her sister, the mayor.

When she confirmed that Zelena had moved to San Francisco, Rogers decided to invest everything in trying to find her. He couldn’t simply ask Regina for an address, because the stress of the whole situation would only cause a bomb to explode in town and, if Hades was crazy enough to kill Robin and sabotage the Gold’s car, then Rogers was pretty sure he would anything to shut up anyone who tried to put in in prison.

He went back to his home in Seattle, the agitated Hyperion Heights, so he could use the precinct’s resources to make a proper research, while he caught up some lost time with Sabine, his girlfriend, who was really upset by his absence. Tilly was happy to be back and spend some time with her soon-to-be step-mother too, mainly because Sabine was always cooking for her and well, Tilly loved food.

Those were nice weeks but work still called him – most literally as his phone usually had a hundred missing calls from Regina daily – and he had to meet up with Zelena at some point. He left Tilly behind, for safety reasons and begged Sabine to not let Eloise, the little girl’s mother, get any near to her.

He spent a whole day at the hotel, revising his notes about the case and trying to memorize every detail about this twisted story that he had collected before going to the gym where she worked as a spin instructor. Rogers waited outside her class for almost an hour, annoyed by the loud music until the people started to come out of there and he could finally enter the room. Zelena was all alone, drying her sweaty face with a towel.

"Zelena Mills?"

For a second, she went still, then her hand disappeared inside the opened pure in front of her to appear again a moment later with a gun in it. One that was being pointed right at his chest.

"Who are you?" Zelena inquired, wildly. "Who the hell are you?"

"Whoa, calm down," he begged, opening his distinctive for her, which made Zelena drop her hands to her sides, lowering the gun. "I'm detective Rogers, I'm investigating the murder of Robin de Locksley. Can we talk?"

She bit down her lip, getting her purse in hands and gesticulating towards the door behind them.

"Come inside."

He followed her to what looked like a mini-kitchen, very, very tiny, will dark walls, a huge fridge that took most of the room’s space and a counter with four stools in front of it. Zelena opened the refrigerator’s door and took a bottle of whiskey from it, pouring a glass for her and taking a second with a question shining in her eyes.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Ah... No, thank you."

Nodding, she took a seat and, after a moment, so did Rogers. He didn’t quite know how to start talking, for the very first time in his entire career, because Zelena looked scared as hell as she took a long sip of whiskey and sighed deeply, avoiding his glance.

"You want to know why Hades killed him," it was her who started.

"Yes."

"Robin was trying to help me," she confessed. "It was my fault."

Well, it seems Scarlet was really right about that. He took an attentive look at Zelena, trying to catch all the emotions she was feeling, but only noticing how different she and Regina were. The woman in front of him was a tall redhead with light blue eyes, with Regina was way smaller and had chocolate hair and eyes. His best guess was that they were just half-sisters, but then, it didn’t matter now.

"I've hear you were going to marry Hades."

"Yeah, I was," she murmured. "I loved him, very much. In the beginning he was sweet and full of love, but then things changed, he wanted to rule my life, he wouldn't allow me to work or to visit my sister… I was all alone and when I tried to stand up for myself, he beat me. I had to run away."

"I understand," Rogers said, sincerely. "But how exactly did Robin get involved?"

Along his years as a detective, Rogers had seen a lot of cases with women like her involved, but most of them ended-up being killed by their abusive partners, or simply disappearing without leaving a clue. Never a second person other than the female victim died. At least, that was what most experiences showed him, but this story somehow, had a unique ending. One which’s reasons Roger’s needed to find out.

Truth be told, he thought it would be way harder to get anything from Zelena, but she seemed to have the need to speak up. Probably because she had spent years holding the truth for herself.

"He used to do some gardening for us once a week, so one day when he came over I begged him to help me," she told him. "I knew it was dangerous and I would anger Hades, but I needed to go, so he drove me to New York first. I spent a full month hidden in there, changing from hotel to hotel until Will Scarlet managed to fake an ID for me and I came to San Francisco."

"But why didn't Hades kill Robin all those years ago when you first disappeared?"

"He didn’t know what I did," Zelena said, drinking more from her whiskey before lifting her cold blue eyes to him. "Listen, Regina has no idea of what really happened, she thinks we just broke up and I moved out of town, so one day she told Hades I had a daughter."

Rogers blinked. Now things were starting to make more sense.

"You were hiding his child?"

"No," she said with a shook of her head, tracing the border of her glass. "Thank God, my sweet Margot is not his, but my husband's, Chad. Hades just didn't know that until very recently as I was pregnant when I left. He spent years looking for me because he thought I was keeping his child from him, but when he finally decided to give up on his search and went back to Storybrooke, Regina told him I had a daughter and was living in here, so he came looking for me."

She hissed at the thought as if just the remembrance of that day made her feel some kind of invisible – and maybe psychological – pain. Rogers must not know every detail of this story yet, but he could already say that Hades was a bastard who should be sentenced to many years in prison.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He tried. Chad stopped him," Zelena snorted. "When I told him that I had made an abortion he went mad. I thought he was going to kill me."

"So instead he came back home and killed Robin," Rogers concluded.

The redhead nodded and a tear slid down her face, falling on the dark counter in front of them.

"Yeah. Robin was my saviour. He booked the appointment at the clinic and held my hand while the doctor worked..." Now she was shaking and Rogers could tell none of this had been easy for her. Whoever Zelena Mills was and whatever she had done, she still suffered for it. "I wanted to have that child, but I couldn't bear to be bonded to Hades forever."

"I'm not judging you. I just wanted the truth," Rogers affirmed. "You need to come to Storybrooke with me, Zelena, so we can put Hades in prison."

Waving her head at him, Zelena slid down from her tall stool, grabbing her purse and leaving her half-empty glass on the counter.

"You don't have any real proof that he killed Robin," she started. "When you do, we can talk again, so I'll be sure I won't expose myself for nothing."

Opening up the door again, Zelena Mills disappeared, leaving Rogers alone to wonder what the hell he could do with the truth if she was totally right and he had no real ways of arresting Hades. At least, not yet.

Ultrasounds always got Belle nervous. She would be pacing around the room if Ariel hadn’t already covered her skirt with towels so the gel wouldn’t ruin it, but she guessed that having her husband sat by her side, murmuring how much he loved her was a great incentive to be still while they waited. Doctor Whale appeared after what seemed to be a long hour but was actually just a few minutes.

He was holding a red folder in his hands, which he was calling “the miracle” folder as it contained all of Belle and Sarah’s medical story, from their diagnostics of infertility and multiple organs failure to a surprisingly pregnancy and a sudden waken from the coma. Ever since she found herself expecting, he was tracing down the best ways of doing every single thing and she was glad to have someone as dedicated as him taking care of them.

"Hey," Whale greeted them. "Nice to see you two again, although I'm happy our meetings are not so frequent anymore. I'm glad Sarah is alright for now."

"And so are we," Gold said, petting Belle’s hair. "But I can help worrying about her all the time, I think that sometimes she looks way too pale and she is always tired."

"It all will come to pass when we start the treatment with the stem cells, which leads me to something I want to discuss," the doctor started, taking a seat on his tiny stool by the ultrasound machine. "I think this baby should be delivered with a C-section. I know you must want a natural birth, Belle, but this way we will make sure everything goes according the plan and both the baby and the cells are perfectly safe."

She wetted her lips. Belle hadn’t thought about that. Her previous delivery had been natural and she just assumed this one would be too, painful contractions and all, but now the reality hit her. She needed to understand that the child wasn’t the only factor to be considered, but the blood that contained the cells too and without it, they would lose Sarah, so she better agree with anything the doctors proposed.

"I - I think we can do this."

"Right," Whaled smiled. "I have two friends from Seattle who would love to work with us. They are very interested in you and Sarah, for medical boring reasons, so if you allow you'll have the best paediatrician and the best neo-natal surgeons coming over to Storybrooke to take care of you."

"Oh, that's fine," she said, amused with the fact anyone would want to come all the way from Seattle just to help with a labour and an anaemia treatment.

"And suddenly it becomes a show down…" Gold trailed off, also impressed.

Whale laughed, picking up the bottle of gel and spreading some on Belle’s stomach with the help of his probe. She had to admit that she didn’t enjoy being pressed by that thing, but then it was needed if she ever wanted to see her precious miracle baby on the black and white screen.

"Doctors have funny hobbies, Mr. Gold," Whale said. "Now, let's see the little one."

For a moment, Belle closed her eyes. It was her fear of something – anything – going wrong that made her feel so anxious again, although not in the way she had been feeling after the accident. Some days were so good and so normal lately that she considered if she had been cured of her anxiety, but then, all of the sudden her heart raced and she knew she would never be truly free of it.

"Everything seems to be just fine," the doctor murmured.

"Can you see if it is a boy or a girl?" Belle asked.

"Yes. Do you want to know?"

She looked up at Gold and he nodded, excitedly.

"We do."

Whale moved the probe down on her belly and pointed at the lower parts of the baby, making a red circle with a button of his machine.

"Here," he said, pointing it out. "No doubt a boy."

The whole world stopped. She wanted to cry. Curl herself in a corner and just weep because she was so overwhelmed with this that she couldn’t really find words to say how much. Gold helped her to clean herself of the gel when Whale left and then, took Belle to the corridor, but she was walking as if she was blind, only focused in the thoughts of little Baden walking around with small chubby legs and a giggle that warmed her heart in the most special way.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"We are not replacing Bae, right?"

"Oh, Belle, of course not," Gold guaranteed, cupping her cheeks and kissing the top of her nose. "He wanted a little brother, remember? You've said it yourself."

"But he won't be here to play with him,” she sniffled. “I miss our Baden."

"We will miss him forever," Robert whispered. "I can't spend a day without thinking about him, remembering his laugh or the times he crawled into bed with us, talking about a bad dream."

Some tears were falling from her eyes, but he promptly brushed them away. Belle was glad he was there, because if she was doing all of this alone, then she thought that she wouldn’t be able to take it.

"It breaks my heart to remember."

"Let's not be sad right now, we should be celebrating this news," Gold said. "We have a healthy son on the way, Belle."

A little smile appeared on her lips and she felt for the very first time a quick coming from within her. She took Gold’s hand above the place and it kicked again. Their son, making his presence known, assuring her that her fears were stupid, because she would never stop loving Bae just because she now loved him too. And oh, how much did Belle love him!

"I already love him very much, Bobby,” she felt the need to say. “I want him to look just like you."

"Poor thing," Gold chuckled.

The moment was interrupted by a shout that came from the other end of the hallway, which led to the maternity waiting room.

"Robert!"

"Jefferson?” Gold inquired, glancing up at their friend that looked way too messy, as if he had come straight from his bed. “What are you doing here?"

"She is born," Jefferson exclaimed. "My daughter is born! Come and see her!"

Belle blinked but got a hold of Gold’s hand and followed them to the room where lots of babies were laying, some of them sleeping peacefully, some screaming loudly. Jefferson pointed at a tiny baby girl, wrapped in a white blanked with a pink hat on her small head.

"There my dear friends, is Margaret Elizabeth Madden."

They smiled, the babies cried, the little boy that was still to be born kicked and Belle Gold felt hope.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #baelfire #neal cassidy #ao3 #fanfic