#brought to you by my mum's dog trying to eat tape

[angelmichelangelo]

i’m about five years too late and nobody asked for this except me and i need to just get this out of my brain because it’s 2am so here’s a list of things i wish happened on glee that didn’t HERE WE GO:

- new directions being actual teenagers. just them hanging out. going to group sleepovers. giant study sessions (because school exists in this universe?) like remember in tpp when they were eating lunch together ? that’s what i wanted MORE of. just them being actual friends. a sleepover episode is all i wanted imagine all the abba songs we could have gained from that episode

- a halloween themed episode. the closest to this that we got was the ‘thriller/heads will roll’ mashup which YES was iconic but im greedy and it’s not enough. my idea for a halloween episode is that the gang gets trapped inside the school after staying behind to idk rehearse? or something? and then things get progressively worse as they start to go a little mad, thinking the school is haunted and they split up into pairs trying to find an escape and they think they’re seeing ghosts/someone lurking around the school and they’re getting real spooked but it turns out it’s just sue fucking with them lmao

- kurt and finn being brothers. THE POTENTIAL WAS THERE and sadly after furt we are left with crumbs. why ?? WHY?? little moments like finn saying that he’s driving back home with kurt or them saying they can’t do something because they have a family thing would have been good enough. more scenes of them hanging out in their home with their parents would have been *chefs kiss* but alas. it never happened because glee writers are bastards

- based off my last point: sam actually living at the hudson-hummel house because he actually did live there? but nothing is ever said like what’s the dynamic there why weren’t kurt and sam and finn close if they all lived together for what? like a year? was sam living in the mf shed? did he ever get close to carole and burt?? where tf did he live when everyone went off to college did he just stay in their house lol who knows not me LMAO

- blaine dealing with his trauma ? mental health was never dealt with very well on this show. emma’s ocd was just ignored after she got married or whatever and blaine mentioned his trauma once and then it was ignored until it was mentioned in passing a few seasons later and even he just brushed it off and it was never brought up again like wtf. i have no idea how they wrote a whole episode about hate crime in bash and they never once thought to have blaine and kurt have a single conversation together, let alone a conversation about how they’d both been victims of a hate crime. AND THE ONLY TIME BLAINE DOES MENTION IT IS IN TESTED WHERE ITS JUST USED AS A REASON FOR THEM TO FIGHT AAAAAAAA no wait im calm it’s okay. i just would have liked to have seen kurt and blaine have an emotional moment together in that episode that didn’t include blaine singing and kurt being knocked tf out. just sayin.

- kurt dealing with HIS trauma !! again, glee gets bad points for talking about mental health and it just is crazy that they had so much potential with kurt, ie: depression, anxiety, ocd (kinda?) his bullying, being literally assaulted (i see u ryan murphy taking that whole plot line so loosely mmhm) and then shoehorning in the fact that he was suicidal AT THE SECOND TO LAST EPISODE when they had a whole episode about suicide and they could have mentioned it at any time but ofc they didn’t because the writers just wanted to shove in as much as they could in the flashback episode AYE AYE AYE the potential!!!! oof.

- literally just more tina. jenna ushkowitz is a fantastic actor/singer/preformer and she was criminally underused. i like the episode props because of two reasons: one. everyone switching characters was amazing. and two. some actual tina scenes. even if she.. technically was rachel but also herself or something? either way. i digress

- this is just in general but MORE ABBA AND ALSO THE CARPENTERS and also some sound of music songs would have worked GREAT but they already had like a million songs and as the show progressed they veered away from old songs and more towards popular songs at the time to help chart numbers blah blah blah whatever it’s cool. but also how did they only do a few abba songs that is criminal

- a more fleshed out ending that wasn’t so rushed. like rachel won a tony and everyone else is just? there? why is sam at mr shue’s house ??? how did artie get up the stairs? did quinn graduate from yale? and where tf was kurt and blaine’s child during ‘i lived’ because burt and carole are vibing in the audience and rachel isn’t pregnant so like? is the baby just?? alone somewhere in the wings?! lmao where are u bby girl!! but once again i know they didn’t have the time to do it so idk it’s fine what they did it just sucks we didn’t get more! but again. fanfic exists so yah im all good

- more of blaine’s mum. or mom, in this case i guess. why cast gina gershon and then give her ONE line like ? ik there was a whole deleted script that explained why she was there but i love that up until that point blaine seemed like he genuinely murdered his parents, lived in their big house all alone and when people got suspicious he just told them that they were “out of town” :) either way pam is great i love her and i wish she had more to do in the one episode she was ever in. not even a moment with blaine?? wasted.

- more of cooper anderson, matt boomer is so fucking funny everytime i think of the emotion tornado i bust a lung laughing like it’s so fucking stupid but oh my good i love it. (and if you haven’t watched the special feature of cooper’s transformers audition tape please please watch it because it’s just so funny.) ik he was just a special guest but i wish they got him back for at least the wedding ep but guess my mans was just busy. boo ;(

- going back a couple of points, i wish they’d done a whole episode like props. every actor here just shines when they’re impersonating each other. finn and puck as kurt and blaine is beautiful and quinn and sugar is incredible. also idk why they refused kevin the right to wear the cheerios skirt; they could have put a little more effort into some characters but that’s glee for ya lmao but yeah. a whole episode like that would have been so much fun

- they should have let chris colfer write more episodes. purely for the fact that he wrote with his own bare hands the whole scene where lea michelle’s character gets dragged down a road by dogs. this guy. it’s a shame he only got to write one since he actually did a really good job! i would have loved to have seen what other episode ideas he had :)

- glee in the summer! obviously it only was centred around the school year but after season 3 who honestly gave a shit about the glee club and mckinley lmao i wanna see them in SHORT SHORTS and POOL PARTIES but nope we just got september - june so like rip all my hopes and dreams

- WHAT HAPPENED TO DALTON? bitch just burst into flames ?? and for WHAT?? oh yeah plot convenience smh this is so sad i wish they’d either written something better than “we need the warblers to team up with new directions so uhhh the school burnt down” like. it’s a private school. if the school is gone and they’re just staying at mckinley what are the parents paying for? they’re just cool with sending their kids off to public school now? every adult in this universe has been murdered by these kids, haven’t they? they’re just doing whatever they want jfc

- a wedding was a good episode. ish. and yknow, huge kudos to them because gay marriage wasn’t legal in the us at the time so im less harsh on the fact that they definitely threw up the rainbow flags and made it less about the characters getting married and more so “we have gay characters and look they’re getting married what a concept” but i do wish we could have gotten some more married!klaine since they don’t really have much to do after this understandably but a little moment alone together after the wedding would have been nice :) IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IM TELLING YOU

- get rid of the hummelberry friendship and send mercedes to new york instead. i have nothing else to add to this other than the fact that i mourn the fact that kurt and mercedes went from bffs to just. school mates. this is tragic this is traaaaagic !! and all for more of the rachel berry show smh

- every day i wonder what was going through carmen tibideaux mind when she watched the kurt hummel preform not the boy next door and was like :) and then watched rachel berry have a breakdown on stage and then proceeded to give rachel the spot at nyada and kurt gets payed literal dust. and THEN she had the nerve to tell him it was because his performance had no heart. AND HOW DID ADAM GET IN THIS BABY GOT BACK MOTHERFUCKER?! nyada is a circus school oh my god !!!!! kurt deserved better im telling yall he deserved so much better

there’s so much more i could rant about but im going insane im so tired and i need psychological help after watching glee so im gonna leave it here and say peace out homies it’s been fun but i need to sleep so bad

#this is insanity #how did this happen #glee #tw hate crime mention #tw suicide mention #tw mental health mention #this was from my drafts lmao

[writerainbow]

Don’t Feel Bad About Living In The Past

Remember poking dog’s poo with a stick? (I do…well, at least I hope it was dog poo.) Moving swiftly on…

In no particular order:

Skateboards,

BMXs,

Climbing Trees,

Falling off trees,

4 TV Channels,

Atari, Sega, Nintendo,

Blowing the dust from game cartridges,

Jean Claude Van Damme,

The Crystal Maze,

Thundercats, SuperTed, Mask, TMNT,

Getting kicked in the balls,

Sliding down the stairs on a cardboard box,

Going out to ‘play’,

Wrestling with your sibling,

Knight Rider,

The Karate Kid, Ghostbusters, and The Goonies recorded on to VHS from your TV,

Your mum’s Tracy Chapman, Queen, and Michael Bolton cassette tapes,

A poster of a Lamborghini hanging on your bedroom wall…

Brought to you by The Power Of The 80s — A time where going to the shops to buy your mum’s cigarettes at age 10 was actively encouraged, if not, expected.

But what does this all mean? Well…ultimately, nothing — It’s a list of my inner nostalgic, somewhat primitive mind ramblings of the past. You have them too, right? I guess I’m trying to confirm my history as something that was pretty special — the good old days, so to speak. Though with the recent influx of eighties movie remakes and synth-laden shows such as Stranger Things giving a firm nod to the decade, it’s clear I’m not the only one recollecting these times.

For me, it was a time all about the present moment and the future — never looking back, knowing everything would work out someday. I often try to apply the same mindset to my life now but fail miserably. Of course, as a kid, there wasn’t much to look back on — just eating and pooping mostly… so I guess it was easier. Now we have constant 24/7 access to old TV shows, memorabilia for sale, rare unseen footage of old movie classics, and pretty much anything else our hearts desire to relive those special moments.

I remember listening to an interview with Billy Connolly years ago, where he mentioned that it wasn’t that he missed the things from his youth, but that he missed youth itself. I can now appreciate what he said. There was definitely a sense of the big unknown — seeing things through fresh eyes, hearing a joke for the first time, or feeling butterflies as a beautiful girl walked by. Sure, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows — bullies raising their ugly heads to deal out some bruises (but I had The Karate Kid recorded on VHS, so Miyagi’s spirit was always close at hand).

My mum taught me how to fight. We would spar in the kitchen while she regaled stories of her Bruce Lee days. She was an avid fan and would tell me about how her bedroom was covered from wall to wall with posters of him. I was baptised into my mum’s personal Bruce Lee Hall of Fame by being made to watch Enter The Dragon several times over. I too bought into the whole godlike vision, and it wasn’t long until the bedroom walls were adorned with my newly discovered, eastern superhero. Though I did think my mum had grossly overestimated my abilities — telling me to stand my ground when faced with up to four assailants. Any more, I was allowed to run. (But it turns out, that sparring in the kitchen with your mum and repeatedly watching Bruce Lee movies can only take you so far, and does not meet the Kung Fu ass-whooping criteria…So yeah, watch yourself and perhaps get some professional martial arts lessons…or learn to run faster.)

My mum’s memories were clearly precious to her. I often still sit back and listen to her delighting in mini time-travel sessions. It’s not to say that every story she told was full of smiles and warm fuzzies — dark moments would balance out the tales, but then every good story has them. Humour played a big part in how she depicted the characters and the scenes. I felt as if I was there, reliving the time with her. My imagination would latch on — the details firmly lodging themselves in my memory. A time where, as a young teenager, my uncle had robbed my grandad’s store of cash from home — climbing through the kitchen window at night. Given away only by the footprint that was left behind in the kitchen sink. My mum would set the scene, build tension, talk about the smells, describe the characters’ clothes — all down to the last detail.

Stories are our life. They give us the full spectrum of emotions — shaping our very existence to the core. I can’t possibly know who I am or learn how to function without my own personal history. I don’t feel bad about my ‘living in the past’ moments. If anything, I wear them as a sort of tribe armour — waiting for an opportunity to bestow the golden nuggets of days gone by on any poor (or lucky as I see it) soul. People die, but stories live on through our telling of them.

I want my kids to have the same romantic notions when they’re older — hoping that they see me as one of the cool hero-esque type characters in their stories. No doubt I’ll screw up from time to time, but as someone once said (I can’t remember who), “stew without salt is no stew at all”.

So, I hope this little time travelling rant has made you glow a little inside and maybe given you pause for old thoughts of your own.

Why not write about your story? Is your decade cooler than mine? (of course not :D .) Share your story on Facebook or Twitter or wherever, and tag me so I can read it!

Peace, love and all that jazz, folks!

Dan

#80s #eighties #nostalgia #retro #flashback #bruce lee #fighting #memories

[lotus0kid]

Rumbelle meet at a grief support group.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 6th

((Warning: dead parent talk. The book featured at the end is by Pat Thomas.))

Gold finishes updating his account book and checks hiswatch.  He pulls on his coat and gloves, andgoes to his car.  He takes a deliberate wrongturn out of town, then doubles back to continue on to the next little patch ofcivilization along the Maine coast.  Hisprecautions eat into his time cushion so he only has a few minutes to limp intothe brightly-lit community center and down the hall to an all-purposeroom.  A sign taped to the room’s doorreads: “PARENTAL LOSS GRIEF GROUP 7PM TO 9PM”.

He sees the usual attendees have all arrived, getting cupsof water or a cookie from a tray set on a table pushed against one wall.   There are some new faces, including one hecan’t help giving a second glance- a young woman talking with Dr. Hopper.  The fluorescent lights catch on her richbrown hair and sky blue eyes.  Gold quicklytrains his gaze on the floor, reminding himself firmly this isn’t a bloodyspeed-dating event.  He takes off hisgloves, tucking them in a pocket before laying his coat across the back of a foldingchair among the ones arranged in a circle. He sits with his cane leaning against his thigh and waits for everyoneelse to take their places.

Once the group is settled, with the young woman choosing thechair directly across from Gold, Dr. Hopper greets them in his soft, carefulvoice, “Hello, everyone.  I’m glad to seeyou all.  Tonight, we’ll start out bysharing our loss.  Anyone who wants tospeak is more than welcome.  If you’renew and aren’t ready to share, listening is perfectly fine.  Aaron, would you like to go first?”

A corner of Gold’s mouth curls up.  “He starts with me because what happened wasso bad it makes everyone else feel better.”

Faint laughter floats up from the circle, most of it uncomfortable,but Gold notices genuine amusement on the young woman’s face.

“It’s not a competition, Aaron,” Hopper gently chides him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, “Well, all right then.  Up to the age of nine, I lived with myfather.  And I loved him, the way a dogloves a cruel master.  Even after heabandoned me, I still had to teach myself to hate him.  Then- let’s see, about six months back- heshows up.  I’ve done well in life, nothanks to him, of course I assumed he’d heard and was after money.  He says he’s sick.  I don’t believe him.  I tell him to fuck off, that he had hischance to be a dad and he gave it up, I didn’t owe him anything.  A little while later, a doctor rings me.  Says my father’s dying.  Somehow, I still think it’s a trick, ascam.  That’s all my father was good at,after all.  Another week goes by, and hecomes back again.  And I tell him to fuckoff again.  He begs me to listen, forgivehim before it’s too late.  I don’t doeither.  I shove him away.  And he… He just collapses, like he’s made of paper.  And he died, there in my front hall.”

The image of the man who once seemed like a titan now lyingin a crumpled heap on the floor is burned into Gold’s mind.  He lets himself stare at it for a silentmoment.

“I didn’t expect to feel much about it.  He was a bastard, who lived like a teenagerinstead of a man.  It’s only surprisinghe made it as long as he did.  But Ican’t…” He coughs against his tightening throat.  “I can’t let it go.  I can’t let him go.  Still a little dog, running after his master.”

His gaze wanders to the young woman, morbidly curious abouther reaction to his tale of woe.  Hefinds her looking back steadily, a pure beacon of sympathy.  He looks away.

“Thank you for sharing, Aaron,” Hopper says, “It’s importantto remember that the relationship you had with your parent is complicated,sometimes it can be more negative than positive.  Their death amplifies a lot of the feelingsthat are part of that relationship.  Andit takes time to process.  Who else wouldlike to share?”

Hopper’s words are more for the new people than Gold- theyaren’t anything he hasn’t heard already. Processing, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing.  Like if he puts the pieces of his grief inthe right order, it will slot into his brain somewhere in the back where hewon’t have to think about it anymore.  Itseems as much shite as it did when he first heard it.  And yet, even he knows coming here is betterthan sitting alone in his big house, emptying bottles of scotch.  Or nearly breaking down in the middle ofcollecting rent from Michael Tillman when his son ran into the room to askabout dinner.

He has to deal with this, process it.  At least beforehis own son’s semi-annual visit.  Milahcan’t find out how unstable Gold’s become or she might take him back to courtto steal even more custody.  And probablymore alimony, to pay the nannies who actually raise Neal while she sails offwith Jones again.

The meeting continues, with more sad stories shared and inthe second half a discussion of the values passed along by the dearlydeparted.  Gold stays silent during this,as does the young woman.  She doesn’t saya word the whole meeting, but gives everyone her earnest attention.

Gold leaves as soon as the meeting ends, his mind the usualmess of muddy emotions and no answers. He’s halfway down the hall when someone calls, “Aaron?”

He pauses and turns, and no one but the young woman jogstoward him, gorgeous hair bouncing on her shoulders.  It’s such an arresting sight it takes far toolong for him to say, “Yes?”

“These fell out of your pocket,” she replies in a charmingAustralian accent while holding out his gloves.

“Oh, right, thank you.” Gold takes the gloves, half embarrassed and half glad for hiserror.  “You, ah- you’re new to thegroup, aren’t you?”

She bites her lower lip for a tantalizing instant.  “Yeah, I am. I’m Belle.”

Belle. Beautiful.  Of course.  “Hello, Belle.  Sorry for… whatever brought you here.”

She winces and he kicks himself.  “Thanks. Anyway, um, I’ve got to go.”

“Yes, I’m sure.  Goodnight.”

“G’night.”  She whipsaround and jogs back down the hall.

“Well done,” Gold grumbles at himself.  Not that he expected her to fall into hisarms, but he could at least not shine a spotlight on her trauma.  He escapes from the community center and backto his car, pressing the gas to get back to Storybrooke as quickly as possible.

—

Belle is at the next meeting, and this time Hopper asks herto share.  Her eyes widen and he seems asecond away from letting her off the hook, but she says, “Okay.  I can… I can try.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

“Well, um… Hi, everyone. Uh, so, a little while ago…” She stops and frowns at her lap. Hopper again seems about to move on, but she speaks again, forcing thewords out, “My mother was very important to me. She was my best friend.  She waseverything I wanted to be.  She wassmart.  And kind.  And… and so brave.  She did what she wanted with her life.  So, um… We were in the car together.  Idon’t even remember where we were going. There was an accident, and we went off the road, into a river.  My mum got me out, but she didn’t makeit.  And now it’s like… Everything Ido- it’s all about her.  If I’m not… IfI don’t do something worthwhile, then it’s like… what was the point of losingher?”  Belle swallows hard, blinks awaytears.  “So yeah.  That’s about it.”

Gold feels a sting in his own eyes, despite how little hecan relate to her story.  Malcolm Goldisn’t worth mourning, which makes his grief all the more irritating.  But for him to die saving Gold- he’s not surehow Belle lives with the pressure.  Hewatches her grab one of the readily-available tissues and blow her nose.  Above the white wad, her eyes dart to Goldand away before he can arrange his features into any kind of warm and caringconfiguration.  Tonight after sharingpersonal stories the group discusses setting up small memorials at home, anactivity Gold will not be taking part in. He thinks Belle might be in danger of devoting her entire living spaceto honoring her mother, if she isn’t careful.

Somehow as the meeting breaks up Gold finds himself holdingthe door for Belle.  And, even moreimplausibly, she falls into step with him on the way out of the communitycenter.

“Can I tell you something?” she murmurs.

“Uh, what?” he suavely responds.

“I’m really not sure what I’m supposed to be getting out ofthese meetings.  I don’t feelbetter.  I really hope I don’t have totell the whole story again.  Just layingit all out like that is not my favorite thing to do.”

“That might be the point of it though,” Gold offers, “Likegoing up in tall buildings when you’re afraid of heights.  If you… let yourself feel the grief againand again, maybe it starts to hurt less.”

“Is that how it’s been for you?” Belle asks, looking at himwith worried wrinkles set in her forehead.

“I said ‘maybe,’ didn’t I?” he quips, then sighs, “It’sgoing to be hard for a while.  You’veonly been to two meetings.  Give yourselftime to…”

“To ‘process’?” she says with a cocked eyebrow.

Gold can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, whatever that means.”

Belle giggles, and Gold feels like Prince Charming.  “Really though, how are you dealing withthings?  It sounds like it was prettyintense, what you went through.”

Gold tries not to gape at her, the first person to actuallycare about his well-being, aside from Neal. He half-shrugs.  “I take it oneday at a time, I suppose.  Try to focuson the good things.  Give myselfsomething to look forward to.”  Neal’supcoming visit is the one shining light on Gold’s horizon.

“Right, right…” Belle murmurs with an odd hunger in hereyes.

“Anyway, um, I have to go. Good night.”

She blinks and steps back, “Oh, yeah, okay.  Good night.”

“See you at the next meeting?”

Her mouth twists into a smile.  “Sure.”

Gold returns to his car with a fluttery feeling in hisstomach he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

—

As twisted as it is, Gold is actually eager to go to thenext meeting.  He takes the direct routefrom Storybrooke, breaking his pattern of disguising his destination.  Just once won’t hurt.  People can’t be that interested in spying onthe town’s miserly beast of a landlord. He’s probably been overly paranoid from the start.

He spots Belle on her mobile outside the community center onhis way in.  When he gives her a wave asshe looks up, she stuffs the device into her coat pocket and smiles wide.  “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

A tiny pulse of heat thrums through his veins.  “And you. Shall we?”

“I guess so.”

After the attendees are given the chance to tell theirstories, the discussion moves to the recent events in their lives they wishthey could share with the people they’ve lost.

“I wish…” Gold starts, hardly realizing he’s spoken whenthe words come out.  The group’s focuscomes to him, and the weight of their expectant silence has him looking only atBelle.  Speaking only to her.  “I wish my father had known about myson.  Not met him, he- he didn’t belongaround children.  But…  I love Neal so much.  I would do anything for him.  I don’t know, maybe I just want to gloatabout it.  That I’m a better dad than him.  Or I try to be, at least.  It isn’t easy, I can say that.  But I’ll never run, like he did.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Hopper says, “I’m sure all of theparents here know how healing it can be to spend time with their children.  But I’d advise you all to be careful not to suppressyour grief for the sake of them.  Deathis a part of life.  Someday they’ll loseyou too.  It’s important to set anexample of how to grieve in a healthy way. It may be one of the most important lessons you’ll teach your children.”

Somehow that never occurred to Gold, that the day is comingwhen he will leave Neal.  Not in the sameway he was left, but just as permanently. The immutable fact chills him, and he knows his dread is plain on hisface from the concern Belle is beaming at him. The meeting ends soon after, but Gold stays seated while everyone elsestands and prepares to go.  He just needsa moment alone to think, and he decides he shouldn’t be driving a car when ithappens.

Belle lags behind though she’s put on her coat, and he can’ttell if he’s glad for it or not as she wanders over to his chair and asks,  “Hey, are you okay?”

Gold’s muddy mess of emotions only allows him to shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it?  Come on, we can go-”  She’s interrupted by a buzz from herpocket.  He watches her take her mobileout, and her eyes widen as she looks at the screen, jumping from it to Gold andback.  “Oh, um, excuse me, I’ll just be aminute…”

Gold frowns as she all but bolts from the room.  Fresh worry finds him over what might be thematter with Belle.  She didn’t speakthroughout the meeting, hardly seemed engaged at all until Gold’s littlespeech.  He finds himself standing,shrugging into his coat, and nodding to Hopper before leaving the room.  He spots Belle with the mobile held to herear as she pushes through the community center’s main entrance doors.

He follows, trailing her several steps down the sidewalk, movingjust close enough to hear her say, “Sure, Mum, that sounds fine.”

Gold freezes.  Atfirst he’s nearly convinced he misheard, that she couldn’t possibly be talkingto her mother.

“Five o’clock, yes, Dad already told me.  I’ll be there.  Okay, love you too, Mum.  Bye.”

Still he’s willing to believe the poisonous thoughtsswirling in his head are just his trusty paranoia.  But then Belle puts the mobile away and turnsaround.  The guilt that fills her face atthe sight of him floods Gold with anger. “What is this?” he growls.

“I, um… please, j-just let me explain,” Belle stammers.

“Why are you here? Aside from Hopper you never spoke to anyone but me.  Why? Who else have you been talking to? Is it Regina?”  The illustriousMayor Mills has been digging for information on Gold’s father since theambulance left his house.  Gold’s spenthalf a fortune burying Malcolm’s host of indiscretions.  He never thought she’d stoop so low as tosend a spy into a grief support meeting.

“I don’t know who Regina is, I swear.  I… I’m a writer.”

The non sequitur is just enough to interrupt Gold’s mountingrage.  “What the hell are you talkingabout?”

“I write.  Books.  Look, I didn’t lie.  My mother died saving me from a sinking car.  It was in the news, you can look it up.  Her name was Colette French.  It happened in Melbourne on Septembertenth-”  She pauses, shame writhing onher face, “1992.”

The meeting is only for the recently bereaved.  It’s not impossible Hopper made an exception,but everything about Belle in this moment says he has no idea.  “If that’s true, who were you just talkingto?”

“My stepmother, Elisa. She’s been as good as my mum for the last fifteen years, so that’s whatI call her.”

“Convenient,” Gold snaps, “And none of that explains whyyou’re here.”

Belle heaves a breath, eyes briefly slipping shut inanguish.  “I’m writing a book.  And… it involves a character losingsomeone.  I- I know, I could’ve justdrawn on my own experience.  But I was soyoung when it happened.  And I needed adifferent perspective.  A man’sperspective, on losing his father.  Afather who had left him.”

Gold gapes at her, violation roaring through him.  “So, that was it.  The only reason you spoke to me.  To find out what it’s like when a man’sworthless father drops dead on his door step. What the hell is wrong withyou?”

Shoulders hunched with misery, Belle mutters into her chest,“It has to be perfect.”

Gold sneers, “Ah, right, for your poor sainted hero mum, eh?”

Belle’s eyes jump to him and flash with anger as she bitesout, “Don’t.”

“Oh, excuse me,” he simpers, “Do you not like people tomention her?  At least not while you’re busycannibalizing their grief for the sake of entertainment.”

Misery rushes back into her face.  “I’m sorry.  I won’t write it.  I promise I won’t.”

“That is for goddamn certain.  If I ever hear of you publishing a book, youcan at least count on making one sale. I’ll read every bloody word, and if it sounds even remotely likeanything I’ve said, I will ruinyou.  Is that clear?”

She nods at her shoes. “Very.”

“Wonderful.  Solong.”  He stalks past her, taking deepbreaths to clear his mind for the drive home.

Well, so much for his adventure in grief counseling.  Looks like he’s back to downing scotchalone.  That’ll have to do.

—

Gold smiles wide as an airport attendant leads Neal intoBaggage Claim.

“Papa!” the boy cries and races to close the distancebetween them and throw himself into Gold’s arms.  He only staggers slightly on his bad leg,which is impressive considering how much bigger Neal is than the last time Goldsaw him.

“Hello, son, did you have a good trip?” he murmurs into Neal’s hair.

“It took forever!  Can we go home?”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, they’re in Gold’s house sharing a pizzaand catching up.  Neal’s told him justabout everything there is to know about the third grade.  Gold has devoured every word and eagerlyasks, “What else?”

“Uh, well- oh!”  Theboy’s face lights up and he bounds off to where his backpack rests against thesofa.  He digs in it for a bit and runsback.  “Look, I got another Giddy book.”

“Did you?”  Gold iswell-versed in the Giddy series Nealhas been reading over the last few months. He can name all the characters and settings and he’s been spoiled forevery plot twist.  However, he was notaware until this moment of the author’s name.  Belle French glares up athim from the book’s vibrant cover.  Withhis emotions threatening to swirl into another muddy mess, he shoves it alldown and plasters on another smile for Neal. “What’s Giddy up to this time, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know everything yet, because I just started.  Hey, did you know the writer lives near here?”

“I do now.”

“And, did you know?  Sometimeswriters go places and they’ll sign your book for you.”

“That they do.”

“If the Giddy ladysigns books somewhere, can we go?”

Gold would rather set his own hair on fire.  “Of course we can.”

After Neal goes to sleep, Gold reads the book from cover tocover.  Of course it was probably wellinto production before he even met Belle, but he has to be sure.  Also, for kid-lit, it’s actually quite good,damn it all.  He finds himself staring atthe photo of her on the back.  The muddymess rears up again, and now, alone in the dark, he lets it claim him for awhile.

He’s painfully aware of Belle’s unexpected and unwantedpresence in his life for the next several months as Neal continues to plowthrough her Giddy books.  At the end of every update Neal gives him, hereminds Gold to take him to a signing, if there is one.  And, to Gold’s dismay, one August afternoonNeal informs him that such an event is happening, right nearby.  “Mom said I can’t go.  But can I mail you my books to getsigned?  Pleeeaaase?”

“Sure, all right,” Gold says through a tight smile.  He reminds himself to expect an invoice fromMilah for the shipping.

“Yay!  Thank you,thank you, thank you!”  Gold basks inNeal’s joy for as long as he can before the dread kicks in.

No matter.  Once Nealgives him the time and place, he vows to go and get it done.  It’s not like he needs to have a three-hourchat with Belle.  Just in and out.  Short and sweet.  Maybe he’ll get lucky and there won’t be apersonalized signing, just a stack of autographed copies of the new productshe’s out hawking.  He’ll buy whatever itis for Neal and call it a day.

He does his best not to even think about it until the lastpossible moment.  Which is why he’scaught unawares by the fact that it isn’t a new Giddy book Belle’s written. It’s something else.  Somethingcalled I Miss You.  It’s a book for kids Neal’s age oryounger.  It’s bright and colorful, andit describes what death is and what happens when a loved one dies.  Feeling slightly dazed, Gold gravitates tothe rows of folding chairs set before a small lectern and sits down in theback.

With a tall stack of Giddybooks on his knee, Gold watches as Storybrooke Public Library’s managerintroduces Belle to the audience.  Shecomes to the lectern holding a copy of IMiss You and gives everyone a smile which falters the second her eyes landon Gold.  Her gaze drops briefly and sheswallows behind a frown.  Then she setsthe book on the lectern and opens it. “Thanks for having me here today. I hope you like the book.  I Miss You, by Belle French, illustratedby Leslie Harker.”  She begins to read, “Everyday someone is born.  And every daysomeone dies…”

The book is written simply and clearly.  It assures children that death is natural, asis their varied reactions to it.  Thatthey don’t need to blame themselves when it happens.  It presents questions that invite children toshare their feelings and experiences when a death occurs.  It’s not perfect.  It’s gentle, and it’s beautiful.

She takes a few questions afterwards.  “What inspired you to write this?” someoneasks.

“Well, mainly… this is the book I wish I’d had when I lostmy mother as a child.  I’ve been, um,processing that lately.  And it just feltlike something I had to do.”

Signed copies are available as a gift in exchange for adonation to the library.  Gold takes twoand hands the manager a substantial check. “You can have them personalized if you want, sir,” the manager says,gesturing to where Belle is sitting behind a table.

Gold hefts the Giddystack and his copies of I Miss Youunder his free arm, mentally recites his vow, and gets in the growing queue.  His heart thuds a little harder as everyperson ahead of him has their moment with Belle and departs.  When he finally stands before her, sheventures the tiniest, wariest smile and murmurs, “Hey.”

“My son loves your books,” he states.

He sets the stack in front of Belle, who scans it up anddown with raised eyebrows.  “I suppose hedoes.  His name is Neal, right?”

Gold can’t imagine why she remembers, and he almost wants tobe angry she does.  “It is.”

It takes several minutes that Gold spends in silence andmore than mild discomfort, but eventually Belle writes a unique message forNeal in every book.  She pushes the stackback to him, eyes focused on it while she says, “Thank you for coming, Aaron.  It means a lot.”

He could snarl that it wasn’t his choice, he’s only here forNeal, he couldn’t care less about her or her books.  Instead he returns the stack to its placeunder his arm and gives her a nod.  “Goodnight, Belle.”

The next day he’s preparing the books to be shipped back toNeal, idly flipping through I Miss Youonce again when he lands on the dedication page.  It simply reads, “To Colette, Moe, Elisa, andAaron.”

He takes a deep breath around his aching heart, and finishesboxing up the books.  A week later, hesits on his sofa and cradles his mobile to his ear.  “Hello, son, did the books arrive?”

“Yeah!  I can’tbelieve she signed all of them.  That’s so cool!”

“And you got an extra, didn’t you?  Miss French’s brand new book.”

“Uh huh.  ‘I MissYou.’  It’s not a Giddy book.”

“No, it isn’t.  I gota copy for myself too.  I’d like to readit with you, if you’re interested.”

“Okay, I guess.  Why?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something.  Or, someone. His name was Malcolm.  He was myfather, your grandfather.  He passed awaya little while ago.  I know you didn’tknow him.  To be honest, I didn’t knowhim very well either.  But I wanted toread this book and talk with you about it. Is that all right?”

“Sure, Papa.  Let’sread.”

Gold settles against the sofa, and opens the book.  “Every day someone is born.  And every day someone dies.”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #fanfiction #once upon a time #applejackcat