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stahlop · 4 years

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Making a Memory (2/?)

I’m so thrilled with the response this story had been getting. Thank you all so much. Here’s chapter 2. We catch up with Emma and Killian and see what’s going on in their lives.

Thank you to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite my amazing betas. And thanks to @gingerchangeling for the amazing artwork.

Also, thank you @cssns for putting this whole thing together.

Chapter 1

Read it on Ao3

Emma eased open the door to her apartment, her shoulder aching as she did. Her stupid skip had tried to run and had rammed her right into a brick wall. She’d broken his nose for that stunt. She just wanted to get inside, get a bag of ice for her shoulder, pop open a beer, and watch Netflix.

She was still getting used to the silence of the apartment now that Hope was at camp. It had only been two weeks, but it still felt like she was walking into a tomb when she came in the door. She honestly couldn’t remember a time when it had been so quiet. It was either Henry or Hope who was always making some kind of sound; whether it was watching television, talking on the phone, or laughing at something online. Heck, Emma would even take when Henry used to pretend to chase Hope around the apartment just to listen to her baby shrieks (even if it did annoy Mrs. Pendergast next door, God rest her soul). Maybe she’d give Henry a call later just to see what he was up to.

Emma closed the door behind her, locked it, and kicked off her heels before heading over to the freezer to grab an ice pack. It was still weird to her sometimes that Henry didn’t live there anymore, but he was 28, too old to live with his mother and teenage sister. He’d stuck around much longer than she expected him to anyway, not moving out until he was almost 25 and had got his first book deal. She was incredibly proud of him for that.

The ice pack was cool against Emma’s skin, as she had worn her tried and true black tank dress which made her skin look almost porcelain and her blonde hair almost gold, a look that many of her skips went for. She could already see the bruise that was starting to form. Luckily, the dress was still intact. Luckily, the dress still fit her at the age of 45 and she still had her figure. Luckily, she still looked young enough to entice men off the internet for a date that were Henry’s age who had skipped their bail. Her face didn’t have too many wrinkles, and her hair was still a lovely blonde color and she didn’t need to color it yet. Her feet weren’t too happy with her though, having had to chase him down in the 4 inch heels. She was finally beginning to believe she might be too old for this shit (as Murtaugh used to say. God, how old was that movie? Now she really felt old.). Her boss didn’t like her using the honeytrap ruse anymore. Emma thought it might also be because he had a crush on her and he got a bit jealous, but maybe she would take him up on the offer to just work on the research end of tracing bail jumpers and leaving the trapping and chasing of skips to her younger coworkers.

She opened her fridge and grabbed a beer with a twist off cap, just easier in the long run, before heading into her bedroom (ice pack in one hand, beer in the other) to change into sleep shorts and a tank top. As she set down the beer and ice pack on her dresser, she remembered that she hadn’t checked her phone since calling the police to pick up her skip. He’d been cursing at her the whole time after she’d handcuffed him to a bike rack. He’d called her a bitch and a cunt, told her where she could shove a few things, and then detailed what he would do to her if he ever found her again. He talked pretty big for someone who was wanted for embezzling. Emma had learned a long time ago not to engage once the cops were on the way. It only led to injuries she couldn’t always explain on someone who was cuffed and couldn’t fight back.

Emma quickly changed into sleepwear, fixed the ice pack onto her shoulder with some medical tape, and got on top of the covers, ready to watch some of her favorite old tv series. Once comfortable, she finally checked her phone and was shocked to see there were several voicemails. One was from Henry, but the others were from numbers she didn’t recognize.

Grabbing the notepad and pen off the nightstand where she always kept them in case a call came in about a skip, Emma pressed the play button for the first voicemail on her phone and put it on speaker so she could write down whatever she needed to with ease.

“Ms Swan, this is Director Hatfield from Camp Evergreen.” Emma’s heart instantly seized. She could not think of a single reason the director of Hope’s sleepaway camp would call her that wasn’t bad news. “I am, unfortunately, calling with bad news.” There was a pause, what seemed like the longest pauses in the history of pauses ever after someone told you they had bad news. Who taught this lady how to deliver bad news? She’d barely said two sentences and Emma was about to tear her hair out in anticipation. “At this time we are unable to locate your daughter, Hope Swan.” Panic gripped Emma, her whole body tensing up. What the hell did that mean they couldn’t locate her daughter! “We went into town today, something we do once a week for the older campers, she failed to meet us at the designated time an hour ago. Please know that she could not have gone far and we have the local authorities searching for her. I don’t want you to worry. Here is my personal cell number for you to call me when you receive this. Thank you.” Emma quickly wrote down the cell number and listened back to the message again. Her heart was practically in her throat in fear and her jaw was clenched so hard in anger that she thought she might break a tooth. How dare this woman tell her not to worry when her daughter was missing. How could Hope be missing? How could someone lose her pride and joy? Her little girl. Before she could really work herself up, Emma remembered there were several other messages. She prayed one of them was telling her that Hope had been found.

“Ms Swan, this is Director Hatfield from Camp Evergreen again. It’s been two hours since Hope was supposed to meet us and we still haven’t found her. The authorities have been searching the area and I’m sure you will be getting a phone call from them as well. Please know that we are doing everything we can to find her. I’m still confident that she must still be in the area and just lost track of the time. I will continue to update you on her whereabouts. Once again, here is my personal cell phone number. Thank you.” Emma checked the times the messages were left. The first had been at 6PM, right when she had arrived for her date, the second exactly an hour later at 7PM, a little before the time she’d gotten rammed into the wall by her skip. She’d remembered hearing a church bell ring down the street signaling the time.

The next message was from a different number received at 7:15.

“Ms Swan, this is Chief Mike Donnelly from the Evergreen Police Department. Ms Hatfield has informed me about the disappearance of two girls, one of whom is your daughter.” Two girls! Emma paused the voicemail trying to collect her thoughts. Had Hope and another girl run off together? Emma’s mind was racing. If it was just Hope gone Emma figured she had just lost track of the time, even though Hope never lost track of the time. Hope was always punctual, but Emma had figured there was always a first time for everything. She was almost 14 and teenagers weren’t the most reliable people, even though Hope was one of the most punctual people Emma had ever known. She sometimes used to joke about where the punctuality genes had come from since neither she nor Neal were ever on time for anything. But there were two missing girls. There was now another factor. Had this other girl convinced Hope to run away from camp? Was there something between the two of them that they felt the need to run away? Had the other girl taken Hope by force? Emma didn’t think they could have got far seeing as they were on Cape Cod. So many questions were swarming around in Emma’s head. She pressed play. “We are on the lookout for both girls, but if you could please give me a call back right away so we could go over some details to help us out that would be greatly appreciated. Here is the station’s number and please ask for Chief Donnelly. Thank you.” Emma quickly added the chief’s number to her notepad trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

The last message was from Henry. Emma debated whether to listen to his message or not. It couldn’t nearly be as important as calling back the chief or the director of the camp, but something compelled her to listen to Henry’s call anyway. The voicemail had come in about a half an hour after the sheriff had left his message.

“Hi mom.” Henry began and Emma’s skin prickled immediately. She could already tell by the tone of his voice that he had something to tell her that she wasn’t going to like. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Hope is missing from camp and the reason I know that is because she’s with me.” Emma was positively going to kill Henry. She was going to murder him. What the hell was he thinking taking Hope from camp without permission. “And if they’ve mentioned that there’s another girl missing, well,” Henry gave a large sigh, “I have Alice too.” Oh shit! This was worse than she’d thought. It would have been easy to explain taking his sister without permission, but now he’d taken another girl? What the hell had Henry been thinking? “Please don’t send the cops after us. There is a perfectly valid explanation for this, just not one I can give over the phone.” Emma highly doubted that. “I’m going to need you to contact the other girl’s father and convince him not to press kidnapping charges. I know that’s a lot to ask, but I promise I can explain everything once you two meet us at Chantey’s Lobster House in Maine. Once again, mom, please don’t send the cops. Just get a hold of Killian Jones and bring him with you to the Lobster House. Here’s his number. And mom…. I love you.”

Emma stared at the phone as if willing it to tell her more. What the hell had Henry gotten himself into? What did Hope have to do with it? What did this other girl have to do with it? Emma couldn’t see any way this was going to end well. And now she had to contact this girl, Alice’s father? What was he going to think when the mother of the man who kidnapped his daughter called him up and told him not to worry and they had to go to some lobster house in Maine?

Emma quickly jotted down the number and tried to think of a way to justify what Henry had done when she talked to this Killian Jones. But first, she had to play the concerned parent and call back the chief and the director before she murdered her own kid.

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Killian Jones was absolutely beside himself. After several phone calls from the director of the camp Alice had gone to and then a call from the chief of police, it seemed they were nowhere nearer to finding his daughter. He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t. She was all he had left after Milah. He couldn’t lose her too. The gods wouldn’t be so cruel, would they? All he could do now was wait by his phone for someone to contact him.

There was nothing he could do in his small house that could distract him from the fact that Alice was missing. She was all around him. Photos lined the hallway and every available flat surface of their two bedroom house. He’d missed her fiercely since she left for camp almost two weeks ago, having never been apart for more than an overnight sleepover. Killian hadn’t been that keen on Alice going to sleepaway camp for six weeks, but she had been so excited to go, having secured herself a scholarship all on her own (sneaking into his financials after he’d gone to bed and copying his tax forms to send, modern day pirate she was), that he just couldn’t deny her. Having just been the two of them for so long, he was already having trouble adjusting, but now that she was missing it was like his heart had been ripped from his chest. Never, in his 49 years, had he ever remembered feeling like this.

He subconsciously ran his fingers through his graying hair (silver, Alice called it), while he tapped his false hand on his leg, a nervous habit he’d picked up when Alice was a child. It had been two hours since the last phone call from Chief Donnelly and Killian wasn’t expecting another phone call from him that night. He couldn’t possibly think what had happened to Alice. He knew she was a little flighty, but he couldn’t imagine that she would purposely leave camp on her volition. Not with the way she’d been so excited to go. Unless something had happened.

Suddenly, Killian remembered that he’d received a letter in the mail from Alice, but he hadn’t actually opened anything as he had checked the mailbox while checking his messages. He had almost forgotten that he’d received the letter.

Quickly, Killian ran over to the kitchen counter where he’d dropped the mail and sorted through the bills and junk mail that had also been in the mailbox. He finally spotted it. The pale blue envelope from the stationary that Alice had insisted on buying for camp so she could ‘write him a letter a day’. While he hadn’t received a letter a day, he had received at least four in the time she’d been at camp, this would make the sixth. He hurriedly ripped open the letter.

“Ow!” he said as he stuck the now cut finger in his mouth. He pulled out the letter to see Alice’s swirly script, very similar to his own. He hoped this letter gave some insight into her disappearance.

Dear Papa,

I am sorry it’s been awhile since I’ve written. I know I said I’d write a letter a day, but a lot has been happening.

Hope and I really got into it yesterday. We’ve been secluded from the rest of the camp. We’ve been put in the Get Along Cabin in order for us to get along. Neither one of us is happy about it. But it is what it is. I’m not even sure how it got so far that we ended up in this situation, Papa. It’s like we were magnets that just couldn’t be near each other and the closer we got the more we wanted to repel the other and it just got completely out of hand. I hope you are not too disappointed in my behavior. I’ve felt really bad about everything since we’ve been placed in solitude. Hopefully, we will work things out with no outside interference.

I hope you aren’t too lonely without me there, Papa. I miss you and can’t wait to come home in a few weeks.

Love,

Alice (your Starfish)

Killian’s eyes brimmed with tears. There was nothing in the letter to indicate why she had run off or been taken. Could it have something to do with this Hope girl she wasn’t getting along with. Alice may be a little unusual, but she usually got along with her peers with no problems. He recalled that Alice had mentioned that she and Hope looked very similar in one of her previous letters. Had whomever taken her thought she was Hope? Had they taken both her and Hope because they weren’t sure which was which? Was Hope the other girl who was missing?

Killian had no idea how he was going to try and sleep with his daughter missing. It turns out, he didn’t. He tried, he really did, but all he ended up doing was tossing and turning and randomly checking his phone, even though it was plugged in and the sound was on so he’d hear if someone called him. Finally, when he saw the sun barely starting to peek through the curtains, he gave up. He checked his phone again, cursed that there were no new notices, and decided his best course of action was to take a shower and wait until he was contacted. He’d never taken one the previous day, and he was sure he still smelled like fish after having worked at the fish cannery all day, even if he was a floor manager, and didn’t work directly with the fish anymore. Which also reminded him that he would need to call out of work. He’d never be able to concentrate with Alice missing.

After calling work and a ‘sorry’, ‘take all the time you need’, and ‘keep us updated’ from his boss, Killian started to head to the bathroom to take a shower when he heard a soft knocking on his door. It was 6:15 in the morning and he couldn’t imagine who would be paying a visit this early. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it had to be about Alice. Maybe they’d contacted local law enforcement to take a statement from him, or canvas their house for clues. He forgot that he was still in his blue plaid sleep pants and graying white undershirt when he answered the door to find a nervous looking, but extremely gorgeous blonde woman standing on his front porch.

“Can I help you?” Killian asked warily. Her eyes darted around nervously, and she was wringing her hands together. She kept opening her mouth to speak and then closing it, as if she couldn’t think of the right words. Killian started to get annoyed. He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly.

“Look, ma’am, if you’re here selling something I’m not in the mood.”

“No, I…” The woman took a deep breath and started again. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you all night. My name is Emma Swan and I know where your daughter is.”

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Emma was not sure what she expected when Killian Jones opened the door, but she definitely did not expect for her heart to immediately start fluttering and her stomach to fill with butterflies. She chalked it up to having to tell him that her son had effectively kidnapped his daughter, not because he was devastatingly handsome, with piercing blue eyes and silver streaks threaded through his dark brown hair. She really needed to focus on the task at hand.

His eyebrows had both raised into his hairline and Emma thought she saw tears in his eyes. She recognized the look of hope in his face, and then, just as quickly his face became very strained, his eyes tiny slits, and the color of his face went from nicely tanned to practically purple.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” he practically yelled into her face. “Did Donny send you to mess with me, because that’s really low, even for him.”

Emma flinched, afraid that he might even hit her. This was not the reaction she had hoped for. And it kind of pissed her off that he thought she was joking with him.

“Um, no,” Emma said shortly. “My name is Emma Swan, my daughter is Hope Swan.” She saw a spark of recognition in his eyes when she mentioned her daughter’s name. Good, that was good. “I believe… no,” she stopped and corrected herself. “I know that our daughters have run away from camp together.”

His face immediately changed back to the face of hope Emma had seen when she’d first mentioned knowing where Alice was. The purple slowly drained away, leaving his face a more normal shade.

“Look, I don’t know a lot of details Mr. Jones.” Emma wasn’t sure why, but it felt really weird to call him that. Her instincts were telling her that Mr. Jones was the wrong thing to call him, but until he said otherwise, she was going to keep this professional. “All I know is that they’re with my son, Henry.” She saw him raise one eyebrow and lick his lips, which in any other circumstance she was sure would be sexy as hell, but right now, it was plain intimidating. “I have no idea why he has taken it upon himself to take them away from camp,” she said quickly, “or what the circumstances behind this whole adventure is. All I know is that he called me, told me he had his sister and your daughter, and that I had to find you and meet them at a crabhouse in Maine.” She looked up at him, sure that he was going to think this was all a sick joke again, but instead she saw him open the door wider.

“Please come in.” He was watching her like a hawk, looking for some sign that she wasn’t who she said she was, and that this was all a colossal joke on his behalf. Usually, he read people pretty well. Friends had said he probably should’ve gone into law enforcement or become a lawyer with the way he was able to just look at a person and know all about them. It’s what made him a good manager as well. It helped him spot good people to hire whether they had the experience or not. He’d rather have people who had motivation to work rather than people just there for a paycheck. Made for much more productive workers. A gorgeous woman like her should be walking with confidence, not slack shoulders, not with the slight curve in her back, and her emerald eyes should definitely not be searching his to find the same meaning and understanding about what was happening. The whole thing unnerved him quite a bit.

“Take a seat while I change into something more, er, presentable, and then I’ll get some coffee started while we sort this whole mess out,” Killian said, pointing with his hand toward the couch in the other room. Emma nodded.

It was every parent’s worst nightmare, Killian thought as he pulled on fresh boxers and jeans, to be told that your child was missing and to find out she had run away on her own accord. Or had she? Killian couldn’t help but think that from the last letter Alice had sent that she wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere near this girl. What had possessed her to run off with her? He finished getting dressed quickly (realizing only too late that he had dressed himself completely in black, including black leather glove on his prosthetic hand) before heading back out towards the kitchen to get the promised coffee started. It was once he pressed the on switch that he heard the crying coming from the other room.

He came around the corner to see her holding a picture of him and Alice. He knew exactly which photo it was. It was Alice at the harbor last summer. They’d gone down to check something at his office before heading to the actual beach, but Alice had insisted on an impromptu photo shoot because of the way the shadows were hitting the docks. She looked almost as if she were caught in a spider’s web the way the shadows of the masts from some of the sailboats were hitting her. It was an absolutely stunning picture, but he wasn’t sure if it should evoke the tears that were pouring down Emma Swan’s face. He could tell that tears did not come easily to this woman.

Her tears were interrupted by the beeping of the coffee maker. Emma looked up to see him staring at her, which made her immediately wipe her tears off on her sleeve, and the little bit of the real Emma Swan that he had seen was now blocked by walls a mile high. She promptly straightened her shoulders and flicked her hair behind her back.

“How do you have this picture?” she asked in an accusing tone. The change was astounding, Killian thought. It was almost as if she was a completely different person. And now he was getting angry. Who the hell was this woman coming into his house, telling him that her son had kidnapped his daughter, and now was accusing him of, he wasn’t sure what exactly, but it was definitely an accusation of some sort.

“That,” Killian said, plucking the picture from her hands and placing it back down on the side table in its proper place, “is my Alice, so that is why I have that picture. As you can see, there are plenty of pictures of her around this house.” A look of shock crossed Emma’s face, but Killian stomped back into the kitchen, grabbed two mugs from the cabinets in his good hand, and poured a cup of coffee for himself and his guest. He automatically poured in a good amount of sugar before he realized what he was doing and was about to offer her the black coffee, when she took the over-sugared coffee from him and took a sip. She smiled, apparently satisfied with it. She looked back over at the picture and then looked at the other pictures that were around her, her eyes getting very big. Eventually, and with a bit of anger, she opened her purse, took out her wallet, grabbed something out of it and threw it on the counter.

“Care to explain this?” she asked heatedly.

Killian took the item to see an almost identical picture of who he assumed was Hope in the shadows. He could tell it wasn’t the same picture, the shadows were all wrong and the girl in this photo had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, plus, she was dressed in a way that Alice would never dress, but Killian could see why Emma had possibly mistaken her Hope for his Alice. And this revelation made him even more upset because she was looking at him like he had somehow invaded her life because of the similarities between their daughters.

“Look, Mrs. Swan,” Killian said curtly, “I’m sure that…”

“It’s Miss,” Emma said, even more irritated.

“What?” Killian asked, his blue eyes flashing.

“It’s Miss Emma Swan, not Mrs. Swan. I never married Henry and Hope’s father.” And why Emma felt the need to reveal that last part was beyond her. It’s not like she needed to defend her choices to this man. But something about him made her want to tell him all her secrets, even if they had only just met, so she added, “I didn’t trust Neal enough to marry him. He left me in a bad way after Henry and he only came back into our lives when Henry was 11. I didn’t want to let him back in, but I did, and then Hope came along.” God, why was she just vomiting her whole life story to this man?

“But he left you anyway?” Killian asked seeing as there was no way Hope’s father wouldn’t be here with his daughter missing.

“He died,” Emma said softly. “Apartment fire when Hope was two. It’s why we ended up moving to Boston. We’d been living in New York before.” Killian’s ears perked at the mention of an apartment fire.

“Same with Alice’s mother. Apartment fire when she was two. It’s also how I lost the hand.” He lifted the gloved hand and got a little bit of recognition from Emma that she hadn’t realized until this moment that he was missing the hand. “What are the odds?” Killian wondered aloud as he thought of Milah and how he’d tried to get her and their young daughter out of their apartment, but the smoke had become too much for her and she’d collapsed halfway down the stairs. He thought they’d been safe then, firemen coming up the stairs to help. He’d handed Alice over to one of the firemen when the roof above caved in, effectively trapping Milah under it and severing his hand in the process. If it hadn’t been for Alice, he wasn’t sure if he would have had the strength to move on. “We were in Boston. I decided, even though I worked at the docks, we needed to be away from the city. That’s how we ended up on the outskirts. It sucks to drive an hour away for work, but we have this little house, and a yard, and everything Milah and I had dreamed of for Alice.” He put his hand over hers as a comforting gesture. Emma initially tried to pull her hand away, but she recognized the gesture for what it was and relaxed into it.

“Hope and Henry are the two best things to happen to me, even if their father was a bastard. I don’t know how I ended up with two great kids like them. I just don’t understand what Henry was thinking, taking our daughters with him on this insane adventure. It’s one thing for him to have stolen off with Hope, but to take your daughter as well. I can’t even begin to know what was going through all of their heads.” Emma fought the tears that were welling up in her eyes. This was not the way she’d raised her children.

‘I’m sorry for practically accusing you… I don’t even know what I was accusing you of,” Emma said looking around the house at all the pictures of Alice. “It’s, just, they’re practically identical, don’t you think?” Killian nodded in agreement. “It just seems so weird, that’s all. And when I saw the picture of Alice, so similar to the one of Hope, it just felt like you were involved in this whole thing somehow.”

“Look, Swan.” Killian didn’t know why he decided to just go the last name route, probably because he didn’t want to get back into a semantics argument with her, but something about just calling her Swan sounded right to his ears and felt correct in his mouth. “Why don’t you tell me everything your son, Henry was it, told you and we can go from there?” She certainly didn’t seem like the type of woman to have raised a son that would kidnap people for nefarious purposes.

Emma pulled out her phone and cued up the voicemail. They listened to it together. Emma closed her eyes and wet her lips while they listened to it. Killian felt the stirring of something in his lower extremities and he almost had to pinch himself. This was not the time to be aroused by a beautiful woman in his house, especially when the look on her face was not one of seduction (although he’s sure the way she was concentrating with that little crease between her eyes was extremely sexy when in the bedroom), but of hoping to the gods that her son’s voicemail would end on any note other than I’m with my sister and another girl, meet us at a lobster house in Maine.

Killian requested listening to it a few more times before he was satisfied that the voicemail was not some type of hoax from Emma’s son, nor was it a real kidnapping requiring some kind of ransom.

“And you have no idea what possessed him to do this?” Killian asked Emma who shrunk further and further behind her walls everytime she listened to her son’s voice telling them he had the girls.

“Not a clue!” she said rather defensively. “I raised him better than that. I mean, I wouldn’t say this is technically kidnapping. I mean, I don’t know Alice, but I feel like they both went with him willingly. I just don’t understand why! This could kill his career.” She stopped, eyes blown wide. “Oh, god! What if this is all some publicity stunt?” Killian questioningly raised an eyebrow. God dammit was that sexy. No, focus Emma, focus. “Henry is an author, and his next book, the sequel to a very successful first book, comes out next month.” Emma explained. “I don’t know how this would tie into it, but that’s the only plausible reason I can come up with for him to do something like this,” Emma said, exasperated.

“Does your son write some type of crime novels?” Killian asked, not understanding how this could be a publicity stunt.

“No. He writes fantasy. He writes alternative fairy tales. So I have no idea how this would fit in. But I know that if this isn’t a publicity stunt that his career would be ruined if you charged him with kidnapping,” Emma lamented.

Something about what Emma had said about Henry’s book struck a chord with Killian. What was it? Alternative fairy tales, the name Henry. Killian knew the book Emma was talking about. The book Alice had been obsessed with for over the past year. Her art had completely changed from drawing landscapes to drawing characters from that book.

“Wait! Is the book you’re talking about titled Once Upon a Time?” Killian asked incredulously. Emma just nodded, pulling nervously on the ends of her hair. Killian paced up and down the room thinking. Could Alice have orchestrated this whole thing? Killian knew she was a huge fan of the book. Maybe she found out he and Hope were siblings and somehow arranged a meeting during their town day? And how coincidental that Alice’s favorite book author would have a sister that looked identical to her.

“I think we may have solved at least one riddle here. That is Alice’s favorite book. She’s almost bordering on obsessive. I think she would definitely, willingly go anywhere with Henry if he asked, especially if it was with her bunkmate at camp.” Killian sat down on the couch next to Emma and took her hands in his, putting his good hand on top. “I don’t think this is your fault, Emma. I don’t think you raised a psychopath, or that Alice was kidnapped either.” Emma looked visibly relieved at this admission. “But I do think that you need to call Henry and find out when to meet him so we can find out what the fuck is going on and why they’re in Maine of all places.”

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

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssns @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #csff #inspired by the parent trap #gingerchangeling #Captain Swan #captain swan ff

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ragsandmuffins · 7 years

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Musical Theatre Themed Ask

Okay, I’m gonna answer... all of these! (Because I have a paper to write and zero motivation. And also: musicals.)

Oh, and by the way, I’m going to assume that every “Broadway” is a “Broadway/West End” because Tumblr is a free platform.

1. What was the first musical you saw?

Mary Poppins, West End, 2006 (not 100% sure about the year)

2. What musical got you really into theatre?

Les Misérables - saw the film, started stalking the actors, you know how it goes.

3. Who was your first Broadway crush?

Aaron Tveit (he’s the main one) and Samantha Barks - like I said, stalking the Les Mis actors...

4. Name three of your current Broadway crushes.

Um... still Aaron Tveit? Plus Rob Houchen (Les Mis London) and Cleve September (In the Heights London and soon Hamilton London) - Also, I get “talent crushes” not physical attraction crushes.

5. Name four of your dream roles.

Only 4? Natalie Goodman, Enjolras, Maureen Johnson, and HERCULES MULLIGAN!!

(I can’t sing, act, or dance, nor am I a man, so...)

6. Favourite off-broadway show:

Heathers and The Last Five Years

7. Favourite cast recording.

Gotta be Hamilton, it’s just such a well-produced album. Bonus points for including nearly the entire show.

8. 2013 Tony opening number or 2016 Tony opening number?

2012? The Book of Mormon thing is just pure gold!

9. Favourite show currently on Broadway.

Broadway: I guess Hamilton - There are way too few that I actually know.

West End: Les Misérables forever!

10. A musical that closed and you’re still bitter about. Rant a bit.

In the Heights London! Though I can’t really complain, they extended their initially run several times and now they’ve cast my amazing Sonny as Laurens/Philip, so... But it was just so good!!

11. Best stage to screen adaptation?

Les Misérables. Controversial, I know, but I usually kind of hate movie musicals. With this one they did something new and different and I think it works. The Last Five Years is pretty good too, though it lost a lot in the adaptation (couldn’t be avoided).

12. Worst stage to screen adaptation?

Rent. I’m sorry, I love the show, I love the cast, but it all feels so staged and wrong and meh. Also, they cut Goodbye Love and left in fucking Santa Fé which adds exactly nothing to the plot!!

13. Favourite #ham4ham?

Gotta be the Schuyler Georges, but there have been so many great ones...

14. A musical you would love to see produced by Deaf West?

Oh, tricky... Maybe Next to Normal? That has a lot to do with people holding things in and failing to see each others’ struggles.

15. If you could revive any musical, which one would it be and who would you cast in it?

Not exactly a revival, but bring Next to Normal to the West End already! That show’s got a sodding Pulitzer. And London’s only a 2 hour flight away from where I live, not a transatlantic one, so I might actually be able to go see it.

Oh, and give Spring Awakening another chance, West End. Maybe adapt some American Sign Language into British Sign Language and...?

Also, maybe revive Rent, Broadway? (And cast Aaron Tveit as Roger... please?)

16. If you could go to a concert at the 54 below, who’s would it be?

That list would be waaaaaayyy too long...

17. Do you watch broadway.com vlogs? Which one is your favourite?

I’ve seen a few, but I don’t really watch them on a regular basis, so no favourites...

18. Make a Broadway related confession.

I really, really hate South Pacific. It was part of our American drama syllabus, as an example of a musical. Quite apart from the fact that I think it’s a godawful, sort of racist and sexist show (it’s from the 40s, go figure), it displays LITERALLY EVERY cliché about musicals!

19. What do musicals mean to you?

Hard to say... Apart from hours and hours of ALL the emotions, some awesome internet buddies (looking at you, @frei-und-schwerelos), I’ve got generally more interested in and knowledgable about theatre, which is a great asset when you study English. Musicals have also introduced me to a wide range of music I wouldn’t normally listen to and so many talented people I wouldn’t have known about otherwise...

20. Express some love for understudies and swings!

Okay here goes: I went to see the West End production of Memphis because of Killian Donnelly and then he unexpectedly wasn’t on that night - bummer. But then Jon Robyns just knocked it out of the part (and I only ever listened to Avenue Q and Spamalot because I watched clips of him when he was in those shows).

My first Thénardier was Adam Pearce and his version of “It was me wot told you so...” is the funniest one I’ve ever heard (he kind of went “No? Sorry, fair enough.”).

The second time I saw the show Adam Bayjou was Valjean and his Bring Him Home was one of the best I’ve ever heard (effortless high notes).

Also, Charlotte Kennedy was Cosette that time (she’s principal Cosette now) and her performance was so incredibly sweet! (She also brought some brunette power into the sea of blond that were Marius and Éponine.)

And Jordan Lee Davies was Bamatabois both times and he was great!

Oh, and my Christine from Phantom was the wonderful Lisa-Anne Wood.

21. Best Disney musical:

Mary Poppins - My first ever musical, fond memories, I still wear the Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shirt my dad bought me (11 years ago... didn’t fit then, fits now).

22. Which Disney movie should be made into a musical?

Uh, I don’t know. Tangled’s funny...

23. Which musical fandom has the funniest memes?

Hamilton and Les Mis. I mean, the Les Mis/Mean Girls crossovers alone...

24. Name a character from a musical you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

Well, the test sorted me into Hufflepuff (great house), but I know that I am a Ravenclaw (and, as we know, the hat listens to you). Okay, Ravenclaw... maybe Melchior from Spring Awakening?

25. Name a Broadway star you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

Ugh, that’s even harder! Sorry, no clue.

26. Best on stage chemistry?

Hmm from what I’ve seen live, Rob Houchen and Carrie Hope Fletcher were pretty darn amazing together.

From what I haven’t seen live, Jennifer Damiano and Adam Chanler-Berat, and Justin Johnston and Michael McElroy seemed fantastic.

27. A Broadway duo you love.

I’m gonna say Jonathan Groff and Lin-Manuel Miranda, but I’m not sure I understand the question...

28. What book, tv show, movie, biography, video game, etc. should be turned into a musical?

Umm... I don’t know. Supernatural sort of is a musical... A Lord of the Rings musical in the style of A Very Potter Musical might be fun. The Fellowship of the Sing? I’ll show myself out.

29. If you could make a jukebox musical, what artist or genre would you pick?

I doubt many people know her but: Vienna Teng. For three reasons (aside from me liking her songs): 1. Her songs tell stories. 2. She often writes from the perspective of “characters.” 3. Her songs are actual poetry!

30. Favourite role played by _________________?

I don’t get it. What am I supposed to put here?

31. What musical has made you cry the most?

I don’t actually cry often at musicals (internally I do), but It’s Quiet Uptown from Hamilton got me bad the first time. And I once listened to Next to Normal when I was already feeling like shit - bad idea! (Don’t listen to There’s a World when you kind of want there to not be a world, kids...)

32. What musical has made you laugh the most?

Probably Avenue Q and Something Rotten

33. Current showtune stuck in you head:

Well, you just put Hard to Be the Bard in my head!

34. A musical that has left you thinking about life for a long time or deeply inspired you.

Les Misérables... I haven’t spent a single week without thinking about that show (or, indeed, the book) since early 2013.

Next to Normal also gave me a lot to think about.

I keep discovering new little bits of genius in Hamilton lyrics. Also, I’m writing a paper on the early US for the second time in under a year and characters from Hamilton (otherwise know as historical figures) keep popping up. Seriously, I’m writing about the Whiskey Rebellion and every time I read Hamilton’s name my brain goes PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!

I’ve also thought quite a bit about Heathers and The Last Five Years, because both of them have had productions where they genderbended (genderbent?) a main character, which made me think about how it changes the story and why.

35. If you could perform any ensemble number , which one would you pick?

“If you could...” Are you implying that I don’t?! Come on, any theatre geek who claims never to have done a solo rendition of One Day More is definitely lying! Oh, and I rapped myself all the way through One Shot the other day and made only one mistake - one that Lin’s made before, so I’m proud!

36. Name a musical you didn’t like at first but ended up loving.

I don’t think that’s really happened... There have been shows where I thought “What in the holy hell is this?!” and ended up loving it. I mean, what in the holy hell is Avenue Q?!

37. What are some costumes you’d love to try on?

Give me that red vest! Also, let me play Enjolras! Yes, I know I’m a woman and can only hit that low “foooorm” when I’ve got a really bad cold, but fuck all that!

I’d also really like to try on Elphaba’s Act II dress, because it’s epic!

38. Favourite dance break.

Hmmm... I don’t really have one? The one in Cool and the ballet in Somewhere where they sort of replay what’s happened are pretty amazing (both West Side Story).

39. Favourite Starkid musical:

A Very Potter Musical is the only one I know... Sorry...

40. What’s a musical more people should know about?

Well, where I live, most people have heard of Cats, Phantom, and Mamma Mia and that’s about it.

But in general, I’ve never met anyone who’s even heard of Assassins (although many people who have met me have now heard everything about Assassins - I’m that kind of person).

41. What are some lines from musicals you really like?

Okay, this is gonna take a while...

"Can you remind me of what it was like at the top of the world?” (In the Heights)

“Oh, my friends, my friends, don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for.” (Les Misérables - internal Niagara Falls!)

“Here, put some hail into the chief.” (Assassins)

“But the sky’s gonna hurt when it falls. So you’d better start building some walls.” (Heathers)

“I’m not mad that you got mad when I got mad when you said I should go drop dead!” (Tick, Tick... Boom!)

“My God, in God we trust, but we never really know what God discussed.” (Hamilton)

“What doesn’t kill me doesn’t kill me.” (Next to Normal)

And just for fun: “Honest living, honest living, honest living, honest living,...” (Rent)

42. Name a Tony performance you rewatch and rewatch.

In the Heights, Next to Normal, Hamilton, and Spring Awakening (both versions).

#well that was fun #i'm procrastinating #theatre geek #musicals #just musical things #musical theatre

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