#i stole them off the photo of the queens at the six wall in the theater cafe place

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Epilogue

Summary: You and Ransom attend the launch of his book and the cover closes on your story.

Warnings: Bad language, Mature (NSFW, 18+) NON-CON situations, kidnap, violence. Blood. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER…READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED…YOU HAVE BEENWARNED.

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: The end! I can’t believe all this span from @jtargaryen18​’s Halloween Challenge last year. I hope you have enjoyed his as much as I have.

Word Count: 3.6k

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK series so don’t @me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18 get off my blog!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 7

 The town car and it's driver took you to whatever swanky hotel Ransom and his publishers had decided upon, you not caring the slightest inwardly, outwardly only half paying attention. You glanced out the window watching the lights of downtown pass by as your husband of merely three weeks held your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. 

It was a warm July evening, the two of you dressed to the nines in formal attire. Ransom had insisted the launch be an invite only, formal event. Therefore, he was dressed in a two-piece suit, black of course, with a crisp white button down, silken black tie, and you, you looked like an ice queen's slutty sister. The powder blue silk dress you wore tied together with thin straps on each shoulder, your feet already hurting in your nude six inch sandals. Your free hand tapped a neatly manicured finger over your clutch that matched your shoes. A delicate white gold and diamond tennis bracelet adorned your wrist whilst the necklace you'd been gifted at Christmas hung around your neck. You wore your hair the way he said he loved it, in a ponytail full of waves and wisps framing your face.

After the incident on Valentine’s Day, you’d spent another two weeks in the confines of the basement. All luxuries removed and you were used and abused in exactly the way you had been when Ransom had first taken you, until he’d once more sucked the fight out of you. Only this time you didn’t have the strength to find it again. 

You played the part you’d been cast in his sick little fantasy and became totally passive to his whims. You let him fuck you which, in all honesty, wasn’t an entirely unpleasant situation as he knew his way around your body and it felt good. You had given up denying it, and for the moments he was teasing those carnal reactions out of you, you escaped, let yourself imagine you were with someone who you wanted. And by keeping him sweet, you fooled him into thinking you were content. And things settled down, you had that halfway to normal life that you’d achieved before you discovered his manuscript.

But it was bullshit. A means to an end. And you deserved a fucking Oscar.

He’d had the audacity to propose to you, too. In a restaurant. Surrounded by people. He asked you the question, like you had a fucking choice.

Angry, desperate tears had filled your eyes as you’d simply gaped at him, tears the deluded cunt took for you being overwhelmed with happiness. With a smile he slipped the gaudily large diamond on your finger, sealing your fate.

It weighed as heavy on your hand as the grief for your lost life, and the despair at your situation did in your heart.

You’d had a small wedding. Attended simply by your parents and sister. He sent an invite to his mother and father but they didn’t show up. Your dad walked you down the aisle and as you walked towards the man you hated with every breath in your body, your father kissed your cheek and asked you if you were sure you wanted to do this. And no, of course you didn’t, but what could you do?

There was no way out. 

“You look as gorgeous tonight as you did on our wedding day.” Ransom’s voice slightly startled you and you turned to face him. 

You smiled at him, the smile you knew he wanted to see, as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek before doing the same to your hand, his lips ghosted over the top of the obscene rock and matching band on your finger which caught the lights of the city, sparkling with all the ferocity of a supernova.

Before you needed to reply with some half assed compliment back, the town car stopped as the driver got out and opened Ransom's door.

"Wait here," he instructed and walked around with the driver on the other side, escorting you out the minute your own door opened.

Flashbulbs fired off in your eyes, no doubt the press there for some absolutely ridiculous notion that this book was anything but its true nature of terror and disgust.

Ransom’s hand pressed into the base of your back as he guided you along in front of him, various members of the press calling his name, and you heard the excited shouts from some as they spotted the bands on both yours and Ransom’s hands, positively shrieking as they asked when you’d gotten married. 

The headlines flashed in your mind now, 'Grandson of the Great Harlan Thrombey Releases First Suspense Novel'. 'One of Boston's Most Notorious and Eligible Bachelors is Strictly Off The Market' . 'Trust Fund Playboy Sinks His Bunny'. 

It made you want to puke. 

In fact, as the press line faded and you stepped foot into the lobby, you swallowed back the bile forcing its way up. A tray with champagne flutes passed you by and you immediately snagged one.

When Ransom had been distracted for a brief moment, you quickly glanced around and swallowed back the entire flute of the bubbly drink. Delightfully enjoying the brief taste and quick head rush it gave you.

The further you walked into the event, his hand still against your bare back, the louder it grew and the more trays of champagne and appetizers were floating by.

As typical, the two of you were fashionably late so, you had little chance to take part in any nibble or further, a drink, because the supposed "man of the hour", more like terror of life, was due to give a speech.

His agent pulled the two of you aside and made mention that it was time for Ransom to greet his guests. He pressed a sickening sweet kiss to your lips and confidently took to the small podium atop a small stage nearby.

“First and foremost, thank you to everyone who came out tonight. But more importantly, thank you to my beautiful wife, without you Sweetheart, this wouldn't be possible.”

The smile he flashed you was loaded with meaning as the pair of you looked at one another, his eyes shining with the depraved private understanding you shared. 

And you hated him then just about as much as you ever had.

Excited muttering spread around the room as he had knowingly referred to you as his wife. It was the first time he’d announced your marriage to the world but, as he smiled and held his hands up, nodding smugly and confirming whatever people were asking him, you felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of nausea. To everyone else it was a sweet dedication, to you it was a sickening truth. This book was based on what he’d done to you. What he was saying was literal truth. 

And the fact that the people currently applauding whatever he had said would never realise the true nature of those words on the pages of his book made you want to vomit in your handbag.

Applause rang around the room and you realised everyone was turned in your direction. Drawing your shoulders back you stood tall and once more fixed that fake smile on your face before Ransom cleared his throat and began to speak again.

But you didn't listen, you drowned him out, the sound of his voice distant and murky like Charlie Brown's teacher. You allowed you mind to think of anything but the present, other than the fact that these people were in unknowing full support of the hell you'd been through the last nine months.

Eventually a loud, rapturous applause signalled the end of his speech and he stepped back, smiling and then turned to the man from his publishers who shook his hand furiously, before the pair of them posed for photos.

That was when he beckoned you to him, looking at you in such a way that made your skin crawl and your teeth seethe with each breath. This bastard expected a photo op from you above all this, commemorating this disaster.

On autopilot you headed towards him, indifference obedience now your specialty and his arm curled possessively round your waist, fingers splaying on your hip. You posed and smiled as the flashes went off, but as you stole a glance at the large, ornate clock on the wall, you suddenly felt your head beginning to swim.

Seeing a convenient way out of this bullshit, you made sure to falter just a little, placing your hand to your chest. It caused Ransom's attention to turn to you.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

“I’m feeling a little light headed and warm.” You looked up at him. “Could we maybe get some air?”

"Sure, yeah," he looked to his agent and they nodded towards a side door in the room.

His arm still round you, playing the doting husband, he led you towards it and opened it with a flourish, allowing you to step out in front of him. 

You emerged into the alley at the side of the building and took a huge gulp of air, steadying yourself.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You were warm, flushed, your skin tingling as the now cooling air hit your slightly damp skin, your nipples perking at the temperature change were visible through the silk dress, and you didn’t miss the heated glance he gave them as you spoke. "I, I don't know. I think it's all the commotion."

“You do look a little flushed.” His eyes moved back to yours and he studied you for a moment, his large hands gently cupping your face as he kissed your forehead before his lips pressed to yours. “Wanna take a walk?”

Despite the fact you really couldn’t walk far in the ridiculous shoes you were in, you nodded. Anything to avoid going back in there and listening to all those sycophants kissing his ass.

He took your hand and started walking slowly down the alley. You were mid-way down when a man jumped out from behind the dumpster. You screamed and instinctively Ransom jumped to the side, pulling you slightly behind him.

“Give me the money and the jewellery, no one gets hurt.” The man spoke gruffly and you felt Ransom draw himself up to his full height as he glared at the dirty, dishevelled man, disdain on his face.

“Eat shit.”

“Ransom, just... please give him what he wants.” Your voice trembled as your body shook, your right hand already removing the rings on your left.

“I’d listen to your pretty wife, if I were you.” The man spoke as he reached into his pocket and when he withdrew his hand you swallowed at the unmistakable flash of metal.

“Fuck, Ransom, he’s got a knife!” You clutched his arm. “Please just give it to him!”

"Fuck, no," he started reaching for his phone but the man lunged toward him.

In the melee that followed, you were thrown to the side, your rings clanging to the floor somewhere along with your clutch, your palms and knees scraping painfully on the floor. By the time you’d pushed yourself up, you saw the man scrambling to his feet, Ransom’s watch and wallet in his hand. He turned to look at you and you backed away, stumbling once more to the ground letting out a blood curdling scream as he advanced. He stopped, picked up your rings and your bag, before he turned, bolting up the alley and rounding the corner, disappearing from sight.

"Y/N," the croaking voice came from your husband as he staggered towards you, a deep red seeping through his white dress shirt, his one hand attempting to stave off the bleeding. The other, cradling his phone. But he didn't get more than a few steps as he collapsed nearby. 

"Ransom!" You shrieked and heels be damned, you ran to him, looking around, "help!" 

"Call 9-1-1, Baby," he begged, trying to thrust the phone into your hand and you leaned over him. 

With a jittery hand you swiped over to the emergency call option and hit the first two digits before you glanced around again and hesitated, rising slowly to your feet.

“What...” Ransom’s chest heaved as he looked up at you, his face white with shock as you turned the phone in your hand and shrugged.

“Yeah, you see, I could call for help but...” with that you tossed his phone to the hard ground and crunched it with your stupidly high heel, rotating your foot to make double sure, the glass and metal grinding between the stiletto and the tarmac. “Whoops, looks like it got smashed in the fight.” You gave a little chuckle. “And of course, mine was in my bag which he took. Isn’t that ironic? I mean the first time you permit me to use it for something other than to contact you or my mom, I can’t.” You made a little tutting noise. “Guess I’ll just have to keep yelling and hope someone hears.”

With that you turned and screamed, a frantic yell. “Please, someone help us! Please, he’s been stabbed, call 9-1-1.” You slowly dropped back to a kneel, ignoring the sting of your grazed knees and smirked. “Dammed, I really am good at this acting shit, don’t you think, handsome?”

Ransom coughed a harsh and wet cough. His chest heaving raggedly as he struggled between catching a breath and bleeding out. 

“Y/N...” he spluttered, “you...please...”

"So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” you emphasised the 't' of the last word as you spoke the very same line that he had delivered to you months ago, the threat he had held over you and used to keep you in check whenever you stepped over that line. 

His eyes widened further as the realisation set in, you could see his brain working and it gave you a buzz, a sense of satisfaction to know that he understood this was your doing.

You wanted the last thing this bastard thought about to be how you were responsible for his death. But more so, his narcissistic and sociopathic tendencies be damned, you wanted him to completely understand exactly how it was his fault. 

And given the way he was bleeding and struggling for breath, you didn’t have long.

Another scream for help flew from your mouth as you pressed one hand on top of his which were now both clutched to the wound in his stomach, the other brushing his hair back slightly as you smiled down at him. 

“I told you when you threw me back in the basement that the way you treat people would come back to haunt you.” You gave a little shrug. “And, when you told the homeless guy looking in the bins on collection day a few months back to eat shit and get a job, well, he took it kinda personally. He didn’t even blink when I asked how much it would take to knock you off.”

"You..." choking on blood, "vicious..." choke,

At that you gave another loud hysteric yell for help before you turned your head back to look at him.

“See, once upon a time I thought you’d changed. But here’s the thing, a person like you doesn’t change, Hugh. You’re incapable of love. You take what you want when you want for no reason other than it pleases you.”

Another scream for help, and this time you could hear someone answering and a lot of yells as people started running towards you.

“Well, now I’ve taken your life like you took mine.” You bent down, your forehead pressing to his as you smirked. His arm reached up to grab you, his blood soaked hand curling over your cheek and side of your neck. "And you know what? It feels good."

His palm was warm and slick against your skin and his eyes blazed with anger as his fingers squeezed. You knew he was desperately trying to hurt you but you felt nothing. You smiled, as you placed a soft kiss to his lips, your words whispered as you pulled back ever so slightly. “Karma’s a bitch, and so am I. See you in hell.”

As the fake tears started to pool in your eyes once more, you allowed your lip to tremble for distraught emphasis. Blood was now trickling out of Ransom's mouth, along down his ear and to the tarmac. You pulled back just a little so as to see his eyes. You wanted to watch him choke on his own blood as he took that final breath. You started sputtering words incoherently as you amped up the hysteria, hearing the footfalls now just behind you. 

He didn’t even make it to the hospital. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was pronounced dead at 21:05 hours on Friday 17th July where he lay in a pool of his own blood, in that dark alleyway down the side of the hotel.

Leaving you a widow.

And free. 

***10 months later***

It was as simple as it sounded, closing your eyes and pointing to a spot on a map. Your finger ended up on Boulder. 

Colorado was far enough from the last year or so of your life that you could feel comfortable. You'd researched it, finding it to be something worth interest. Affordable. Breath-taking scenery. Incredible life altering activities and quaint little towns. The summers were supposedly warm but rarely did the temperature rise above ninety-five, the winters were supposedly very cold, dry and windy; rarely dropping below six degrees with partly cloudy skies year round.

The months following Ransom’s death had been as draining as humanly possible. The investigation had involved countless interviews before the police and authorities settled for it being a mugging gone wrong. But then there had been the months of wrangling and private law cases his parents had attempted to bring against you to prevent you getting his money, despite the probate law being fairly simple. You were married. He left no will. It was yours by default. 

Eventually, when the Drysdales had exhausted every last option, they were forced to concede and that was when you made the decision to leave, a decision of which your parents were highly encouraging. They practically talked you into this whole thing to begin with. Helping you leave your nightmares behind. Despite them not suspecting anything at first, you weren't blind to the fact that things still had not sat right with them. You knew they had suspected a level coercion, that maybe you'd had a manic episode of mental illness, but you never had divulged the full details and by the time he was gone, they hadn't cared. Your relationship with them had strengthened and healed and that was what you cared about.

Now, you were newly nestled in Boulder with a great condo downtown, a stone’s throw from the historic district that was filled with cliché shops and bars.  Whilst you didn’t need the money, you’d taken a job working in the media department of a private law firm. It was a far cry from your journalist days, but it suited you just fine.

The more distance you put between who you were now and who you had been, the better. 

You were at peace.

The May evening air was temperate as you crossed the street and opened the door to the designated bar in which you were meeting your new group of friends, mostly gathered from work, for a girl's night out. You’d been held up a little in the office so they were already waiting at a table. You waved and gestured to the bar, indicating you were going to get a drink. 

As you sidled up to the wooden counter, you were jolted a little into a man to your right. You turned to apologise and gave a little double take. You recognised him instantly. But you didn’t want to make that obvious and cause him to feel uncomfortable. You knew how it felt, to have everyone looking at you, hushed whispered comments as you went about your business, people trying to figure out if you were who they thought you were.

That was part of the reason you had moved, and you sure as hell weren’t about to subject the man next to you to the same, uncomfortable experiences. 

Recovering quickly, you hastily apologised and he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.” His Boston accent was evident and you smiled.

“I miss that accent.” 

The man chuckled, his warm blue eyes creasing slightly as he looked at you. “You from Boston, too?”

“Concord.”

“Newton.” He replied, “well, I lived there anyway, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Should I? Know that, I mean?”

He studied you for a moment, and you kept your face as passive as possible. You could tell he knew that you knew, but you gave a shrug none-the-less and he smiled, a gorgeous smile that lit up his entire face, perfect white teeth flashing from beneath an immaculately groomed beard, as he extended his arm towards you.

“Andy Barber.” His fingers gently brushed the back of your knuckles, as you shook his hand, his grip warm and gentle.

“Oh, of course.” You smiled back. “One of our attorneys.”

“Our?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m Y/N. I work in the media department. I mean I only started a few weeks ago but...”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to meet you, Y/N, and welcome aboard.” His smile didn’t falter as he let go of your hand and gestured to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

You paused for a moment before you took a deep breath.

And nodded.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

******

Sequel: Follow Andy and reader’s story in Consciousness Of Guilt. 

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[alias-b]

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 2: Take On Me

A/N: Shorter chapter. Abuse mention. Billy takes a tour of Camille’s mansion on Loch Nora. Also posted on my Ao3. :) Thanks!

  Camille waited barely twenty five minutes after she got home before that Camaro was racing down her street. Billy eyed the house and didn’t hide his awe. Sprinklers turned on to water the pristine grass while he smacked his door shut and fixed a curl back into place. A neighbor watering her roses stopped to stare so he winked. Adrenaline pumped and set him on edge, face heating before he pushed the doorbell. She answered in a baggy sweater that fell from one shoulder and tight acid wash jeans.

  “Find the place all right?”

  “Had some trouble picking the mansions apart on the street.” He earned a scoff when she locked the door.

  “Shoes.”

  “You’re kidding.” Billy stepped out of his boots and she reached to take his messenger bag, dropping it upon a nearby chair.

  “You wanted the tour. Main hall,” she slid open two doors. “Living room.”

  “Shit.” The radio played as they went, hurrying off.

  “Kitchen, dining room.” She gestured to a glass door. “Back deck... Work out room.”

  “Of course you have a pool too.”

  “And hot tub.” Her remark pooled heat into his stomach. She'd said so casually like she didn't have ideas. Not like his. “Anyways, coat closet...first bathroom. Main staircase...this way.” Billy looked around at the art. Few photos of the little family framed the walls. He saw her grinning and toothy as a child into the camera. “No comments.”

  “Just looking.” Blue eyes lingered on her face.

  “We have a rec room in the basement. You’d love it. Couches. Games. Another TV. Best stereo in the house. But, here...second bathroom. Dad’s office. Mom’s studio. Master bedroom...guest room...and at the end: Me. No, you can’t see in my room. We’ll see how the project goes first when we actually start the paper.”

  “I get it, you need to judge my performance before you commit.” Billy stepped closer and she laughed. He was game.

  “Exactly that.” Camille noticed it then. A welt just peeking out of his hairline. “What happened to your head?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You were bleeding. It’s dried.”

  “You missed a room,” Billy lifted a hand to the sore spot and turned from her. “Attic. Hiding something?”

  “Never been in there,” she shrugged.

  “You’ve never been in there?”

  “Off limits. Dad keeps his work stuff in there, I guess”

  “He a spy or some shit?”

  “Scientist.” Camille came to his side and repeated herself. “You’re bleeding. Let me look at that.”

  “Drop it.”

  “Billy-”

  “Just fucking drop it, I said!” Billy raised his voice and she reeled back in surprise. His shoulders sank down and he shook his head, nonchalant by force. “It’s stupid, I was in a hurry to get to your damn tour and hit my head.” Immediately, the heat turned off. That damn charm. He wore it like an oversized suit to hide under.

  “Sure...” Camille cleared her throat. “But, I can’t have Hawkins' new Keg King bleeding on the grand tour. So, suck it up for two minutes.” Billy gave her a hard look and went into the bathroom, sitting down while she pulled a sterile wipe from a huge first aid kit.

  “You came prepared.”

  “I was into dancing and gymnastics, I get roughed up…"

  He bit his tongue at that.

  "This might sting.” Billy turned to stone and didn’t flinch by force when she drew the pad against his hairline. She hissed a little at the welt, gently shifting locks of hair to clean it up. “Nasty bruise coming. But, I think your hair will be fine.” He gave a comedic sigh of relief but stilled when her free hand drew up his chin to angle his face so she could finish. Crystal eyes blinked several times and he said nothing until she slipped from him. Perfume turned him to putty. Stole every move he could have possibly used on her. Seemed unfair. And what's worse was her acting oblivious. “Come on, I’ll order us a pizza while you look over the book list.” Breath heaved to enter his lungs and he swayed up to his feet to follow her out.

** ** **

  “Ugh,” Billy slumped back into a chair. "Pick a different one." An empty pizza box sat between them.

  “I already read it, you just need to skim. This is basically a free A plus for you and you're complaining."

   "Guess." He glanced at her. Glowing and unworried like a rosy pink firework. Felt like it was about to go off in his face.

  "Face it, Billy, you just hit the jackpot.” Camille laughed openly at him. She wasn't wrong there. “The Scarlet Letter. Easy read.” Deft fingers flicked through pages of the assignment and idly turned a TV channel to some martial arts flick. A character expertly spun under another to dodge a fist before they whirled their leg up, knocking their foe in the head. Camille lost her next thought and didn’t hear Billy whine about the paper, eyes wider and intent on the swift fighting.

  “Whoa...hey. You’re, uh...” Billy was stuffing a pile of napkins toward her and Camille snapped back. Blood tricked from her nose.

  “Shit, not now,” she jerked up, grabbing the ball of papers from him to cover it. Billy was a little stunned when she raced into a nearby bathroom. Really not his idea of how this day was supposed to go. A headache pulsed at the front of her brain. “Ugh.” Camille pinched napkins down and huffed, sniffing before she washed her nose with soap. Fuck and in front of the damn keg king too. She opened the door and he was there, reaching for the handle. Not a shy boy at all. Billy dropped his arm and tilted his head in question. Eyes narrowed so she explained. “I have this thing and I just get these dumb, little chronic nosebleeds. Happened ever since I was little. Think it might be worse, I must be lucky.”

  “You dying?” He roused a giggle from her lips.

  “No, not dying. I think. Just a stupid health thing. Never had that great an immune system when I was younger. I take pills for it.” She shrugged. “I’m better at hiding it when I’m at school. Few close friends know.”

  “So, I’m a close friend now."

  "Didn't mean it like that."

  "Yet, you opened your mouth and said it to my face. Can't take it back. We bled together, Harpy.” Here he was, trapping her into another door frame. Teasing and dramatic. Completely charged and aware. Insufferable.

  “Not sure it works that way but, cute that you do,” Camille poked his chest and went around him. Cute. Queen Bee was quick on feet as well. He couldn't fathom it. “Read the book, Hargrove. Really impress me.”

  “What I heard is that I have a chance?” Billy smirked to himself and packed his bag while she dug into a bookcase.

  “Hm. Take my copy and we’ll meet Saturday.” She handed him the novel when he looked her up and down. Not once did she try to make a move.

  “My house this time. Dad’ll be out with Susan. If you’re not afraid of my side of town.”

  “I've seen Hawkins from all angles, babe. I want a tour.” She batted her lashes, craning to get closer to his face.

  “You got it,” Billy tore a page from his notebook to scribble his address. “Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there,” she led him to the door and opened it. “See you at school.” Big eyes with nothing again. Billy lingered to study her face before relenting. He could try the slow approach. Camille waited until he got into his car to shut the door, locking it. Billy watched each light go off within the house until she was upstairs. Licking his lips, he chuckled openly to himself before starting the vehicle to speed home.

  Billy gave it his best to skim the damn book that night, debating it before he fell into bed. Flicking the novel open, a single light in his room illuminated the pages while he stretched out atop the covers. Billy ended up reading until his eyes hurt. He fell asleep like that, book pressed open against his chest.

  The school bell was more irritating than usual that morning, Camille rubbed her head when a body slipped into the desk behind her. Fingers tugged once at a silken piece of hair and her head whipped, hand smacking at his.

  “What?” She hissed through teeth at his grin.

  “I skimmed it,” Billy leaned forward so she turned to face the chalkboard.

  “What’s the main character’s name?”

  “Ah, Fester or something.”

  “I’m impressed.” Camille tried not to laugh.

  “I got it?”

  “No, you’re totally wrong but the thought was there,” she turned to peer over her shoulder, winking. A touch of fire swelled there in the depths. “Keep skimming, Billy.”

  “I intend to.” He muttered when she faced the front again. His tone sent her all aflutter. “You’re not taking language classes and I see you with a different language book every time we meet. The hell?”

  “Some of us collect hobbies.” Camille shrugged, sorting through her bag for a pencil when the second bell rang. The headache didn’t get better with each passing class. She tried harder to focus and sniffled on blood during chemistry. Billy furrowed his brow and looked up from the worksheet in front of him. He knew he failed that damn quiz. Another thing to please his dear old dad. Partners talked around them, filling in the blanks from textbooks. Without speaking, Camille got up and paced to the front of the class to whisper to their teacher. She left the room and didn’t come back for ten minutes. Billy fiddled with his earring and watched her fidget when she did return.

  “Stop staring,” she’d uttered after another five and Billy’s eyes snapped aside.

  “Acting weird, queenie.”

  “Stupid headache,” she snuck a pill and gulped from a water bottle in her bag. The rest of the day was desperately slow. Camille rolled down the windows of her car and inhaled dry air, heaving a breath before she sped out of the parking lot. Billy watched her go when Max came around on a skateboard.

  “Ah, ah...backseat.”

  “Another girl.” His stepsister scoffed and Billy was too distracted to get annoyed.

  “Hey, Billy. Movie starts at six.” A pretty girl approached so his grin crept wide.

  “Tammy,” he cocked his head so she’d get in. “We have time to kill.” Max could only roll her eyes in the backseat.

** ** **

  “You mom said you weren’t feeling well, don’t push the exercise tonight,” Noah walked in on his daughter following a peppy dance instructor on TV.

  “Just a headache, I’m feeling better.” She lied, smiling as she did so.

  “Nosebleeds?”

  “No,” came a second. Camille wasn’t sure why. “Hey, I’m going to Billy’s house Saturday, we have this paper we need to do.”

  “Billy?”

  “New boy, you remember."

  "New boy?" The details of her teenage existence always escaped him.

  "Strode paired us, I can’t be rid of him.” She turned the TV down and continued stretching, following the movements with ease. Noah took note.

  “This a new video?”

  “I go through them so quick, I got most of them down without the video,” Camille was too focused.

  "See if Edna can find you some more to keep you entertained." He'd offered.

  "Sure," she gave a shrug. Always nice to keep busy with them gone. “I won’t be out too late.”

  “You know to-”

  “Call and check in if it runs later, yes, dad. Promise.” Camille grew amused. “I’ll be here awhile longer. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, honey.”

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #Camille Harper #stranger things fanfiction #Without the Lights #mine #writing #billy x camille #billyhargrove

[vanessakirbyfans]

When I went to see Vanessa Kirby starring in Julie at the National Theatre, it turns out I picked “a really bad night. Oh God everything went wrong,” she says when we meet a few days later, in a café in Chelsea where she has just ordered scrambled eggs. In one climactic moment she has to kill a budgie on stage, but the blood capsule didn’t burst until well after she whizzed the fake bird up in the food processor. “That happened two nights in a row! But it was better than before, when we used to start the scene with a real budgie and then kill a fake one, because one night the real one started tweeting after the lights went down, when he was supposed to be dead. I was trying to shut him up. He was called Gordon. We had to get rid of Gordon. There have been letters to the theatre: ‘We need to know that Gordon has not been harmed.’”

Kirby is a 30-year-old actor from London, a galloping laugh a minute, and quite probably the future of British acting. You may know her as Princess Margaret from Netflix’s The Crown, a role she describes happily as “the gift that I was given”, and which turned what could have been a staid drama about duty and class into something much more delicious. She gave Margaret a youthful vulnerability – we saw the damns she had to give before she stopped giving any – and now, after two series and winning a Bafta, she is handing the role over to Helena Bonham Carter, who will play the older incarnation. And Kirby is gutted.

“The Crown was the best time of my life,” she says, in her quick voice. “Saying goodbye to it was awful, I really grieved it, actually.” Kirby kept a photo of Margaret on her bedroom wall and used to gaze at it, wondering What Would Margaret Do? “The easy route would have been for me to just play her as the version of her who comes later, the public persona of her that is so – I don’t know the right word – gauche?”

They could have sent you to Mustique!

“I know! Livid! But I wanted to try and find the person she was before she hardened, before she became bitter and self-loathing, which is what I sensed. I wanted to find the torment that’s underneath those things. That, for me, made a real woman, even though the circumstances were ridiculous.”

She played opposite Claire Foy as the Queen. Both of them have just been nominated for this year’s Emmy awards for The Crown. I ask what it’s like to be on the receiving end of the enigmatic, brooding looks that Foy’s Elizabeth so regularly deploys.

“Oh, she used to give me the look in our scenes together and I’d just be feeling, aaaargh – you’re so internal! You’re so good! You’re so subtle and I have to try so hard to rein it in! But Claire was much better about the show ending than I was. She said it was because I had such a personal synergy with Margaret, whereas the Queen remained a mystery to her.”

It transpires the real Queen is a fan, though. Kirby only knows this because a friend of hers was at a fancy party recently, “where he didn’t know a soul so when he heard some people discussing The Crown he was like: ‘Actually I know someone in that.’ They were like: ‘Cool.’ He goes: ‘No, but I really know someone in it,’ and, meanwhile, this girl says: ‘Well my granny likes it,’ and he suddenly realises her granny is the Queen. It was Princess Beatrice. Although, I told someone else recently it was Eugenie,” she laughs, “but I got that wrong.”

Kirby grew up in Wimbledon, south London, the middle child of three, and attended the private Lady Eleanor Holles School. Her mother, Jane, had been the editor of Country Living and her father, Roger, one of the country’s leading prostate surgeons, “always watched loads of films with me – totally inappropriate ones like Midnight Express when I was about six. He put all films on. I think my sister was five when he took us to the cinema to see A Perfect Murder.” They were also taken to a lot of plays, “and I got really bored until I was about 11 and then suddenly it clicked for me, like: oh, when theatre’s really good it can be transformative. More than anything, it made me understand people.”

At school, “It was always the drama side of things where I felt the most alive,” she says. “The most myself. I was quite badly bullied for a few years and I became self-conscious about everything I did in relation to the bullies. But drama was the place where I didn’t.”

Was it other girls?

“Yeah it was… systematic. Quite awful. A teacher said to my mum on my very last day of school: ‘She survived it. She’s done it,’ which means they knew it was happening.”

Strangely, Kirby doesn’t sound remotely bitter about it and mutters a half-finished thought about it perhaps being a useful experience now. She describes her childhood as very happy and she knows how socially and financially privileged she was, but she also suffered from giardia, an intestinal parasite, which went undiagnosed for a long time and made her feel permanently nauseous, as if she was about to vomit. “All these nightmare injections, pills up the bum, all of it. Prodded around from age nine to 11.”

At school there was a noticeboard with a picture of Ben Whishaw as Hamlet at the Old Vic on it. Kirby stole it for her bedroom wall, went to see the play three times and became obsessed with him, which was not helped by bumping into him on a London bus. She was in amateur local productions at the time, but after studying for an English degree at Exeter and then giving up a place at Lamda to go straight into work as an actor some years later, her first big chance was on The Hour – starring… Ben Whishaw.

The director was tough on her, which may have been because: “I wasn’t paying any attention to the scene. In my head it was just alarm bells going: ‘Oh my God that’s Ben Whishaw.’” Afterwards she had to tell him everything. “And it felt good to finally confess my infatuation. Of course, he was with his boyfriend.”

Hollywood came calling and she’s had to become better at dealing with famous men since being cast in the sixth instalment of the Mission: Impossible films, out this month and starring Tom Cruise. I ask what he was like. “Such a pro. Absolutely disciplined; super enthusiastic. Always wants everything executed at a super-high level, so you have to train really hard.”

With him?

“Oh God no, without him.” She laughs, groaning. “I think that would be… I did say to him at one point: ‘I am never getting on a running machine with you.’ But I learned a lot about work ethic from him. I never thought that stunts and action would be my genre, but I’m understanding now that you can transcend genre, as long as you try and find the real woman behind the part.”

It struck me, watching Julie – which is Polly Stenham’s rewrite of the Strindberg play Miss Julie, and set at 3am at a druggy party in a wealthy house in Hampstead – that Kirby could have played the heroine in a much sexier fashion. Instead, she chooses to drag her body around with her as if it brings her discomfort. The reviews have been kind to her, but not to the script or production, which tend to say it all lacks chemistry. Kirby diplomatically says the problem is: “It’s such a huge space, it’s not an intimate theatre and sometimes the space dictates the parameters.” I’m not convinced she’s enjoying it all that much.

Still, the current feminist awakening of Hollywood has had a real impact on Kirby, who has risen to fame at the perfect moment to seize it. She is working on her own ideas, too. The week after we meet she will fly off to work on an unnamed film project she’s developed with Adam Leon. “He’s the best New York film director, I think.” It’s inspired by an article in the New Yorker about a woman who entered a fugue state and went missing in the big city. They have cast a group of renegade, gender-fluid young Brooklynites to play her new friends, and Kirby scrolls through her phone to show me photos of these genderless kids she finds so mesmerisingly beautiful. She is also developing a film of her own with Ben Caron, who directed her in episodes of The Crown, and making “something about babies who are born addicted to drugs and how society treats those mothers”.

Partly this seems like an attempt to get away from the wealthy-woman-in-gilded-prison roles. “I feel like now, more than ever, it’s all of our responsibility to have other things represented on screen. There have been somany male stories on screen, or stories of women written by men, so she’s the wife of someone, the girlfriend of someone… It’s only now I realise that looking back, all the scripts I’ve read over time, unless they’re really small indie films, the women have always been fantasy figures, always viewed through the male lens, almost cartoony.”

Her boyfriend, Callum Turner, is also an actor, and recently they were on a plane together, both with a pile of about 10 scripts to read through. “In every single one he was the central protagonist and the women were helping the leads. Out of mine, about two of my parts were the leads – and then you knew that someone like Jennifer Lawrence would be doing it. So we women have got to be the generators of the material and, in order to do that, we have to understand the system we’re in, which I’m really trying to do.”

Kirby has a friend called Sarah, “who says it just pisses her off, all these Hollywood actresses getting on the red carpet and sounding off about #MeToo, etc. She says, what are they actually doing? I say I know, but these are the women who will be on the front pages of newspapers, for better or worse, and then it leads to real change in other industries, too. Media is the controller of everything.”

Another close friend is the writer Dolly Alderton. They even share the same therapist, which made Kirby very amused to read all about said therapist in Alderton’s recent bestselling memoir, Everything I Know About Love. Yet another friend is Anna, with whom Kirby and her sister share a flat in Tooting. “So we’re like three sisters. No idea why we live in Tooting, though. I think it was cheapest.” Their home has calmed down a lot since Kirby became so busy. “It used to be mad parties non-stop and the vibrations going through to the little old lady who lives next door – her house was constantly shaking at 4am.” I can’t imagine Kirby upsetting old ladies – she seems too sweet. Did the woman complain? “Sometimes, yes,” Kirby admits, with a shamefaced twinkle in her eye.

Still, she seems entirely unafraid to call the shots on the big guys now. “My only little area of change is to be in a big movie and say no, I’m not wearing a short skirt, I’m not showing any skin, I don’t want slapped-on make-up,” she says.

And if the action film wanted to give you robo-tits? “I would say absolutely not. I don’t care any more. I feel more able to say that now. I’m in a slightly luckier position, but also the times now support it. I don’t want an arse shot – well, not that they’d want one of my arse. But I don’t want to be shot through a lens of sexualisation. That’s not me. That’s the distorted feminine and the distorted masculine that is creating so much of the toxic energy in our society.”

It is unusual to hear an actor ask quite so many questions in an interview. As she says, she is fortunate to have risen to fame in a time that allows it, with other women having begun to push the boundaries. But Kirby is questioning everything. Still, you can only fight off so much of the culture. We say goodbye and she picks up her bag of M&S shopping and heads home to watch Love Island, during which, she says happily, she will “feel my brain turning into disgusting nothing”.

#Vanessa Kirby #The Crown #Mission Impossible Fallout #Articles

[rubbady-pubbady]

I’ve decided to reply to @violetfaust ‘s post https://violetfaust.tumblr.com/post/159438706546/hooboy-long-ass-post-coming

with my own post - not for any reason. Just because.

Oh thank you so much for this. I forgot about the post I wrote but after reading your hilarious post, I’m right back in. 

A) Rumple isn’t horribly abusive??? Are you kidding?! The guy who trapped his wife on a ship so she couldn’t leave,

He did that to protect her life from a direct and immediate threat. According to your fanbase, ignoring one’s partner’s wishes to protect them is not abusive; that’s an act of wuv:

Oh well - as long as he locked her up against her will for her own good! Then it’s fine!

And Belle was wrong about it being a threat and Rumple told her so:

Belle: Threats won’t make me love you again, Rumple.

Rumple: No. But necessity will.

Uh that’s not him saying it wasn’t a threat...that’s him saying “No my threat won’t make you love me but necessity will - there’s no other way to interpret that sentence so I have no idea how you twisted it around so much.

planned to use the shears on Belle’s their baby

I know, right? Thank goodness no one cut Gideon away from his fate of being kidnapped, raised in a cage, blackmailed, brainwashed, and tormented for 28 years, having his heart torn out, and being used as his grandfairy’s puppet to murder someone

That's the fate he got because Rumple wanted to use the shears on him - the fate Rumple wanted to cut him from was not loving him.

and planned to speed up the pregnancy so he could do that and Belle RAN AWAY FROM HIM AND HE BACKED HER INTO AN ELEVATOR WHILE SHE LOOKED TERRIFIED!!!

Yes. He almost went too far. That was the one time in their lives since the chipped cup that he frightened her. (One time does not make an abuser.)

But guess what? Belle talked him down. She used reason and emotion, and he realized how wrong he was.

A wife had to talk her husband down from doing something to her body that she didn’t want but hey at least he changed his mind! And that’s not the first time he frightened her - she says she needs the dagger to protect herself from Rumple in season 4, that sounds like she’s frightened!

where she had to beg him not do it, he put a tracker on her wrist so he always knows where she’s going “So now, no matter where you go, I’ll find you.”

Which, while another dickish move, was to prevent her from her stated purpose of kidnapping their child. And this time, he did it WITHOUT trying to restrict her movements or agency. Parolees who are flight risks wear ankle bracelets; how was this different?

The fact that you compared Belle to a parolee (and I’m guessing that makes Rumple her guard?) is amazing! And the idea that a pregnant mother wanting to protect her child from his father doing something to him is considered kidnapping - especially since she was only pregnant at this point and hadn’t even had the child yet so it’s just her body he’s tracking and controlling. Unless you say that when a woman becomes pregnant she’s just an incubator and can’t do anything without the father’s say so? And Rumple threatened her with taking her child away from her in the same conversation.

Oh dear God the next bit is a big one! (cracks knuckles) (and that’s what she said)

No, let’s see: Hook lied to Emma literally from the moment he met her; left her and her family to die (twice); manipulated her a thousand times (before you yelp: that’s hyperbole, but if you like I can come up with five or six times off the top of my head);

Oh so we’re taking it from before they were together? Hey remember that time Rumple buried Belle in the ground?! Good times - I’m sure they have a photo album of that time.

stalked her with a telescope spyglass;

Do you mean that time he showed up to the place he was invited by Emma where she said she was keeping a place for him and he looked at the scene he wishes he was involved in as he could be because he was invited? Hey how about that time Rumple stared at Belle and her new boyfriend through the window of the shop after she had banished him and didn’t want him anywhere near her?

felt entitled to her (from Eddy’s own mouth) while she was “shunning him” (JMo’s words);

Huh? And Jen actually said she ‘shunned him’ because she’s vulnerable around him and that scares her.

said he was happy her heart had been broken; touched or grabbed her at least half a dozen times without her permission and several times against her stated will (again, happy to provide the examples);

He said he was happy it could be broken as it proves it still works. He actually says ‘don’t take this the wrong way’ but I guess you didn’t hear that bit ha! And if you mean 'grab’ her as a way of stopping her but not doing anything to hurt her in any way and letting go immediately then I’m guffawing already! You guys really crack me up. Hey remember that time Rumple touched Belle’s chest while pretending to be Hook even though it was in the same episode Belle said she was frightened of Rumple and was worried about him returning to the town? And remember when Rumple kept putting Belle to sleep in season 4 and froze her against her will with magic so he could continue to do stuff behind her back?

tried to keep her away from her family because he wanted more of her time; lied to her about blackmailing someone and being blackmailed back (leading to her almost being thrown into another dimension); threw a jealous snit when she had literally her very first conversation after they started dating with a man whom she was not related to (August);

When did he try to keep her from her family? In fact, he’s gone to great lengths to be a mediator between her and her family at different times and advises Emma to forgive them and talk to them. Remember when Rumple hid the fact that Belle’s father was looking for her? The blackmail? Was that with Rumple? Because making him do something good and giving him his own hand back are pretty fine by me and then Rumple ripped his heart out! And do you want me to remind you why he could blackmail Rumple? (psst it’s about keeping something from Belle!). And how did it lead to her almost being thrown into another dimension? Is that when Rumple was about to put her in the hat...and that’s Hook’s fault?! A jealous snit? The one line about August he had when he questioned their relationship? Hey remember when Rumple disguised himself as another man, interrupted Belle’s date with Will and then said Will ‘took something’ from him meaning Belle is a something that can be taken from him.

told her he liked her walls because he liked breaking them down; said he “loved” her as she looked at him with tears in her eyes; attempted suicide to get her attention; told her he wanted to hurt her and that she’d always be an orphan, and left her crying; restrained her and stole her magic; tried to kill her entire family (again);

He said he liked her walls because she said she was better off being the Dark One and it made her better - he was saying he liked her just as she was awww. He said he loved her and then took it back the next time he saw her - Belle has said this season that Rumple won’t be able to make her love him again which implies that she doesn’t love him now - how dare she? And that was when according to you he was just trying to protect her! Why do you want him with this awful woman?! Attempted suicide? He knew she would catch him and finally appear before him - hardly suicide! And the rest? He told her to kill him to resolve all of it and she did! Does that mean Belle will get to kill Rumple because I’d be up for watching that! Remember earlier this season when Rumple’s wife was pregnant and he decided to have a relationship with the Evil Queen and helped her threaten to kill the town with water from the Underworld? Hmm did he die to make up for that yet?  And remember when Rumple could have helped stop the failsafe but instead he was going to let Belle die because he just couldn’t be bothered?

yelled at her teenage son for not rescuing him hard enough; joked that being vulnerable was not her strong suit (after she had opened up to him about things that deeply hurt and while she was going to therapy); ignored her express wishes about the shears because he knew better than she did; lied about that

Not rescuing him hard enough...What? I don’t remember this but I’m guessing it will have me laughing. Being vulnerable isn’t her strong suit - that’s literally the point! He supported her every step of the way when she wanted to see Archie and said he was glad she was going to see him but a Rumbelle fan doesn’t know what normal conversations between a couple sound like since all Rumbelle spew is ‘You have a good heart Rumple!’ or ‘I didn’t know anyone could love me!’ for the thousand and one time. The shears he kept for fear that Emma would die and he even said he had no idea what he’d do with them (didn’t you say it’s fine for Rumple to protect Belle or is that just when you’re locking someone in?) which he got yelled at by Henry and he got rid of them and admitted it to Emma.

proposed to her while keeping the secret that he had killed her grandfather; and preferred to burn away his memories rather than tell her the truth. And literally packed his bags and prepared to leave her without a note or even a text, until he decided at the last second not to.

True that was bad. And Emma pretty much broke up with him because of it (I don’t think I have to bring up Rumple’s unneccessarily cruel proposal to Belle where he made her think he was giving her all his trust and then used her for an alibi) and he was about to leave to be a better man for Emma because as he says himself, he’s not the man Emma needs him to be. And what makes you think he wouldn’t leave a note? He was at the docks staring at the ship and contemplating what he was going to do - there’s nothing to suggest he wouldn’t tell her.

(Everything that you say Rumple did, Hook did, only worse,

That is literally the opposite of true...as I‘ve made abundantly clear.

B) Belle wasn’t trying to get away from her husband? What was she doing then?

To live her life separately from him.

So...trying to get away from her husband then?

Emma: Gold did the right thing today. That doesn’t mean he’ll do the same tomorrow.

Hook: Emma’s right. And we have to make sure that he can’t use that magic on you, and we will.

Hook and Emma BOTH KNOW that Rumple would never do anything to hurt Belle. They have BOTH concocted entire schemes based on the fact that Rumple would do anything to save her. So, right here, they are either lying to manipulate her, or honestly being extraordinarily dimwitted and amnesiac. THEY were the ones who put it in her head that Rumple would still use the dust on her; had they not, maybe Belle wouldn’t have panicked and would actually have had time to find out that the Queen was the one who dosed her.

They both know he would never hurt her? They’re worrying about the thing Gold wanted to do to her literally two minutes ago which he had been plotting for several episodes unless you’re saying he wasn’t going to do it and they’re all silly for thinking that? And their lines were in reply to Belle saying she should feel relieved but she’s not so she was worrying about him still doing it too before they even said anything! They certainly weren’t the ones who put anything in her head - I’m pretty sure Rumple coming at her with the intention of using the dust and the intention of taking her baby away was what put it into her head. Also I feel so bad for Belle - even her supposed fans think she’s an easily manipulated idiot who has no thoughts of her own.

And Belle can’t have had much opportunity to tell Emma anything, since after the first attempt on her life Emma blithely went out canoeing with Henry, and when she came back she was busy snooping through her lover’s stuff, getting engaged to a liar, and showing off her ring (and then moping over thinking her fiancé had left her because for the VERY FIRST TIME in their relationship she called him on lying to her). To her knowledge, Gideon wasn’t using the sword to come after Emma

Yeah how dare Emma actually live her life and spend time with her son after she nearly died - what was she thinking? Even though that had to be several days and she lives in a house that Belle has been to so she’d definitely know where Emma is but Belle didn’t seem to bother going there or to her parent’s apartment or anywhere at all. And to her knowledge, Gideon was using the sword to come after Emma since Rumple even said he was going to do that. But as we all know, Belle likes to sit in the shop and tell other people to deal with her son that she won’t go talk to.

That’s funny, because the reason Rumple “gave” the town to Hyde is that Hyde kidnapped Belle after Snow sold her out.

So you’re admitting he did sell her out then? Nice.

Rumple knew better than anyone that Excalibur had been ostentatiously NOT choosing Emma for the entire season; what reason did he have to believe her plan would work?

Oh so it’s just your headcanon for Rumple’s thought process then? And he must have had plenty reason to believe it would work since he was relying on at least one of them sacrificing themselves to get his powers back. If he didn’t think the plan would work, his plan would not work at all so why was he bothering?

I’m actually going to go through all the times you mention:

Season 2

David wanting a tracking potion to find Jefferson (I think it was Jeff).

Regina wanted to make her magic work.

Regina wanted someone to stop Cora.

Emma tried to blame him for Archie’s death, then asked for a way to find/prove the killer.

Snowing got him to locate Regina after Gremara kidnapped her.

The Charmings tried to get him to stop Regina’s failsafe

I have never included Regina in anything I’ve said since I don’t consider her one of the heroes so I’m excluding her points already.

David went to Gold to buy the potion and Rumple wanted the two of them to stay out of each other’s way and hilariously it’s Rumple who breaks that deal a couple of episodes after that. And you do realise that if you advertise yourself as a dealmaker for centuries, you can’t complain if someone wants to make a deal with you.

How dare Emma think one of the two big murderers in town that they know of might be the murderer! And they didn’t ask for a way to find the killer - Gold was clearing his name.

Snowing called in their favour to get him to help as he himself did to Emma earlier that season (remember when he threatened to kill all of them?)

Of course they wanted him to stop the failsafe - it affected him too and he would have died but as I said earlier he didn’t care about dying and didn’t care if Belle died. And this was right after he tried to murder Henry! Just a reminder.

The Charmings wanted him to find out what was wrong with Henry (or something like that; they accosted Rumbelle coming out of the shop).

They went to him to find out how to defeat Zelena when she had him in a cage (and they LEFT him there, with Snow saying that Z had done “nothing that can’t be undone” to him).

They accosted him? They went to him to tell him that Pan, his father was doing something to his grandson as Rumple himself said he wanted Pan gone as much as they did.

Belle left him in there too right? And the only way to help him was to stop Zelena - as you mentioned, Snow says what was done to Rumple can be undone meaning they were planning to undo it.

Hook and David wanted him to save Emma from the ice mountain.

Hook blackmailed him into locating the Snow Queen (so that Hook and Elsa could get themselves captured).

Hook blackmailed him into getting back his hand.

Something I can’t remember that required Belle to ask nicely for the whole gang.

Emma wanted a spell to remove her powers.

I’m hazy, but I think they got him to make the portal to Arendelle?

They came to him because Elsa had found her sister’s necklace in his shop and even though he did know about it, Rumple refused to help. Should they not have asked him about it?

Hook ‘blackmailed him’ because he refused to help Elsa or Marian when asked and he had something that could be used against him - so good on Hook!

Hook used the same blackmail to GET HIS OWN HAND BACK THAT RUMPLE KEPT AS A TROPHY. Are you kidding?

Emma did come to him for help because she actually trusted that he had changed and then Rumple used her trust against her to try to put her into the hat.

Nope they didn’t come to him for any portal - he controlled Hook to force him to tell them there was a portal.

Emma wanted Excalibur to pull off her plan.

Emma blackmailed him into going to the Underworld.

Emma wanted it to stop them all going to hell including him - and technically she gave it to him in the first place.

In one of the biggest fist-pump moments in the series, Emma blackmailed him (it’s strange how he always has something he doesn’t want Belle to know) as he took back the darkness making Hook’s sacrifice worthless.

Emma went to him after Hades had been released to ask for Rumple’s help.

True and I hated that scene. But again he refused.

The EQ wanted some doodad/key to the Untold Stories.

David wanted info about his dad.

The whole group wanted help with Jekyll’s potion.

Times they outright stole from him:

Taking the Caddy back from NYC.

Emma and Killy taking the sword from the shop.

David made a deal with him - see above for dealmakers making deals.

They told Rumple how to stop someone who threatened Belle - it was even phrased as something that would benefit him

I didn’t know they took the caddy from him  - that is absolutely hilarious! Thank you for that information.

Yep they took the sword that could kill her away from someone who might kill her - and?

It seems like all these times you say they ‘demand him to get them out of their jams’ are times when it would benefit him, times he outright refuses, times he makes a deal or simply times when information leads them to go talk to him. Poor Rumple - how dare they? They don’t deserve him - ha!

#anti rumbelle #once upon a time #ouat #anti disgusting rumbelle #anti dimbulb belle #anti piece of crap rumple

[kakiokuru]

NOBORIZAKA: NOVEMBER RAIN

Chapter Seven | Information and Formation

“Alright everyone, settle down.” Reika wore an air of confidence as she spoke; making sure her laptop was securely hooked up to the borrowed projector. Reika wasn't a fighter, but there was a reason she was a part of the team and this was it. If you needed a game plan and thorough information, she was the best. With her moment to shine, Reika adjusted her glasses while waiting for her comrades to get comfortable. “Majijo is currently leaderless, but that isn't to say they are weak. Let me fill you in on what we’re up against.” Time to get right to business.

Lifting a small remote, she moved to the next slide of her PowerPoint. Yes, she made a PowerPoint. The first photo up was of a young woman with bobbed hair and wearing a red velvet sukajan. “Otabe, real name Yokoyama Yui, is the closest thing to the leader now. She's repeated many years for unspecified reasons but doing the math from when she first transferred in, I suspect she's around twenty-two. She’s what you can consider a seasoned Rappappa member, previously the president of the second generation of Rappappa but now acts as the advisor and a Heavenly Queen. She fought against Sakura once and they were evenly matched, however Otabe does possess strength powerful enough to break through blocks. Maiyan, I suggest she be your target.”

Mai gave a firm nod at the screen, burning the face into her mind. “I saw her at the gate. She shouldn't be a problem.”

“Now, under her are what you can call lieutenants. Or in their terms Heavenly Queens." Reika clicked her remote to bring up the next slide. “Magic, AKA Kizaki Yuria. Yoga, AKA Iriyama Anna. Katsuzetsu, AKA Kodama Haruka. Both Magic and Yoga have been Queens for some time, since before Sakura transferred in. They have some… unconventional fighting styles. Magic is the ‘third’ Queen and incorporates, as you would have guessed, magic into her attacks as distractions and sabotage, though her combative capabilities lay with the use her legs and her speed. Yoga, to be put bluntly, is the weakest among the Queens. Because of her proficiency in yoga, she’s rather quick, flexible, and prefers to dodge attacks and counter. Katsuzetsu… is more unofficial than anything. She transferred in recently to follow Sakura but some digging revealed that she was somewhat of a lackey and possibly harbours romantic feelings for Sakura. She was as bold was as bold as to infiltrate Rappappa’s clubroom and declare herself as the president. ” Reika continued on to explain her analysis on the battles between Sakura and the Queens.

“I want the magic girl.” Nanase rested her chin in hand, staring at the screen with little interest in the others. “Sakura almost lost when she was caught. I'm too fast, even with tricks. I'm sure to win against someone like that.” She smirked with anticipation. “Besides, someone who relies on magic and tricks to win a fight has no place in a real fight.”

Reika shook her head. “While you did clear up to the gate in under five minutes and probability of success looks to be in the green…” She pushed up her glasses and brought up the next slide, showing an image of her recommended formation of attack, flowcharts, graphs and all. At a glance, it was a sound and solid plan. “We will need the gate to be re-cleared of all the miscellaneous others before we charge the stairs.”

Nanase made a displeased face, rolling her eyes. “Make Kazumin do it! She's the tank! She could clear the small fry altogether in under three minutes.”

“Eh, I don't want to fight!” Kazumi pouted, still enjoying a bag of chips in her lap. “Maiyan said I didn’t have too!” She protested, in between crunches.

A loud sigh interrupted the chewing. “An attack like this is unreasonable. These are yankees.” Even Erika understood that. “There are systems and rules. Going in so boldly would be looked down upon even if we were victorious.”

“She's right.” Yumi sat up on the couch, lazily slouching against the leatherback. As a yankee herself, she understood unspoken yankee ‘traditions’ the best. “If we want to take down Majijo without a leader then we need to work up the totem pole. Reika had the right idea, declare war by clearing their gate but then attack their lower teams and work up.” She sighed, as if reading off a script. Anyone who attacked Majijo seemed to stick with this structure and eventually it became a system that all yankees abided by. “When we solidify ourselves as a threat, then we can take on their top fighters.”

“That seems tedious.” Erika furrowed her brow at Yumi, crossing her arms.

Yumi sighed, waving her hand listlessly. “It is, but anyone who has done anything different failed. We already have a strike against us for not having a student transfer there.”

“It’s all superstition.” Mai stood and stole the remote from the bespectacled girls hand, turning the slides back and forth until she could see every member. “We aren't everyone else.” Mai glanced over every image, the gears turning in her head. “We’re Noborizaka students, not yankees. Mai would want us to uphold Noborizaka’s name, and go about this with class. We will do this by their rules. Confer with Wakatsuki on these rules, Reika.” Turning on her heels, Mai crossed her arms. “Nanase already completed step one, clearing the gates.”

“Well, if I have to again to prove a point, then I don’t mind~” Nanase grinned, twirling her fingers in her hair. “But like I said, I already picked the girl I want.”

Mai rolled her eyes, trying to keep focus. “We don’t get to pick… But we’ll see how everything will turn out. Our next task is taking out Team Hinabe. Who should clear the second tier?” She turned slightly to view her team, lips curling in thought. Kazumi would be preferable but she had already told the tank of a girl she was allowed to stand on the sidelines. Going back on her word and forcing her would be wrong.

“Hinabe, this generation’s food-themed team. They’re actually significantly stronger than their previous incarnations. They are currently comprised of four members…” Reika tapped the photos against the wall with her stylus. “So if we go by yankee rules, wouldn’t it take a matching amount of girls to fight them?”

“Nah, these girls are chicken shit. Uonome, Dodobusu, Jisedai, and Kusogaki. All of them get downed with little to no trouble. They only got into Rappappa by riding on Sakura’s coat tails.” Yumi smirked to herself, stating the fact. She glanced to the student body president, her imagination picturing an amusing thought. “Even you could do it, Reika.”

The group snickered at the thought, although Reika didn’t seem as amused. Reika wouldn’t last very long at all, even against the weakest member. Hell, her tablet case had more endurance than her. If she didn’t shield herself when Erika darted her stylus towards her, the metal would have went right through her like a bullet.

Such a thought broke her out of her confident and serious demeanour prior to the presentation. “No-no-no-no way! I can’t even slap my hands to kill a fly without hurting myself.” She waved her hand a bit in front of her face. To return to the topic at hand, she turned to look the projected images. An idea struck her. “Nishino-san cleared the gates before, by herself, didn’t she? That wasn't a declaration of war, just scouting. So, why don't we all go together…? Aren't teams still in the rules? Going together might stir up enough buzz to properly declare war and they’ll see us as a threat.”

Erika scoffed. “Fight a team of flies together to declare war?”

“Hm… Considering we don’t meet their ‘transfer’ rule, it's not out of the question…” Yumi nodded a bit while she spoke.

“Then, I don’t… hate the idea.”

“Together? I want to come! I don’t want to fight but I want to come!” Kazumi jumped in, hand raised in the air.

Mai’s eyes glanced around the room, tossing the remote into Reika’s possession. “Seems we’re all in agreement here.”

Reika fumbled with the device as she tried to catch it, pulling in the next slide. “Ah, there's still the third tier. Kamisori, AKA Kojima Mako, and Katabutsu, AKA Okada Nana. They aren't stair guards and they also don’t really fit into Rappappa either but they’re still a level above Team Hinabe. At least according to the order Sakura fought them in… Not quite Heavenly Queens, but still in the highest positions. We could also take them on at the same time as Hinabe since they’re never far behind in terms of proximity.”

Nanase’s eyes dropped to her nails. “So in the end, it’s six against six.”

“That means the black hole and Reika has to fight.”

“Eh!!” Kazumi let out a loud groan in protest, a large open mouth frown decorating her face. “Do I have too?”

“I… would really rather not.”

“If what Wakatsuki said was true and one of us can do it alone, I'm sure four can pick up Kazumin’s and Reika’s slack.” Mai smiled softly, patting the sitting, tall girl on the head. “You don’t have to fight, remember? Ikuchan, Naachan, Wakatsuki, and I are more than enough.”

“Isn’t that unfair?” Erika snapped her attention over. “Kazumin is a member of this team so I say she do her part. I don’t want to fight either but I’m here, aren’t I?” Erika looked over, her eyes growing cold. “Even Reika is doing something for the team so why isn’t Kazumin.” Crossing her arms, she looked out the window while her fingers tapped against her skin in a rhythmic fashion. “I think even Reika should fight, but we all know that’ll never happen… pussy…”

“I–…” The student body president opened her mouth but she couldn’t deny that it was for a fact that she never plans on raising a fist against another person. She eyes slowly dropped to her floor, ultimately feeling disappointed in herself still. “I’m sorry…”

Mai lifted her arm protectively in front of Reika and faced Erika with the same authority. “We aren't yankees. We aren't a fighting team with a hierarchy. We're friends. While I would want everyone to make the effort, if someone doesn't want to join the fight then they don’t need to fight. But if they want to be here for MaiMai’s sake–”

“MaiMai’s, or yours?” The pianist injected, giving her leader a hard glare.

There was a heavy tension in the room. All of the girls glanced at each other as if mom and dad were fighting at the dinner table. All stayed still, except for the loud uncomfortable crunch as Kazumi slid a potato chip into her mouth. Nanase sharply kicked the noisy girl in the back to quiet her, grunting at her softly with as stern a look she could muster. Kazumin nearly choked on the chip, finally taking in the atmosphere. She glanced in between Mai and Erika, seeing the sparks flashing between them even when no words were exchanged. Like a tiger clashing with a dragon. She hated it. There hadn’t been an air like this since–

“…I’m calling Nanamin!!”

Kazumi shouted, visibly upset after Nanase’s kick. She almost resembled an angry toddler as she dropped the bag of chips to get her phone from her skirt pocket. Wakatsuki fell off the couch, quickly scrambling to try towards her in an attempt to stop her from dialling her phone. Even Mai and Erika broke their non-verbal argument and lunged forward to halt her from bringing the embodiment of their worst nightmare into this mayhem of a team.

“No, no, no, no–!! Wait!! Stop!! Kazumin, don’t–!!”

But it was too late. It took no longer than twenty minutes for the air of dread to grow unbearable. Knowing death was soon upon them, the girls stayed as far as they could from each other in the small clubroom. No one particularly wanted to meet eyes with each other, or acknowledge the doom coming for them. Reika hid behind her tablet, Nanase hiding her nose in a manga, Erika staring at the window but her fingers fidgeted with nervousness. Even Wakatsuki was keeping focus on her phone while Mai studied the photos on the laptop. Then the door opened so quickly it almost fell off its rollers and everyone froze mid activity.

“I was in the middle of my shift.”

A tall woman with lightened hair peered into the darkened room. Every girl stiffened, fighting to even look at her. The woman had a large pair of sunglasses on, and was dressed to match her age and profession of fashion consultant standing poised and proud. Well, angry and proud.

“Nanamin!” Kazumi bounced up, still sporting that upset, immature face. “Everyone's fighting again! Make them get along!! They tried to make me fight too!! And Naachan kicked me!!” Kazumi hugged the woman’s arm, with an accusing point aimed at the group who were all still hiding behind books and electronic devices. Some even sunk into their seats to avoid ‘dad’s wrath’. Nanamin tugged the sunglasses from her face, shirking Kazumi off. With her long slender legs, it only took a few intimidating steps to make it to the back of the room where she ripped the blankets away from the windows to let proper light in. Without even turning to face the inside of the room, she tapped her foot expectantly.

“Everyone, line up.”

Even if she spoke with an eerily calm tone, her voice thundered through the room. The girls all raised their hands to their eyes, hissing from the sudden influx of light. With the curtain down you could properly see how destroyed the room had become. Dust everywhere, things nonchalantly thrown in the formerly dark corners of the room. Even the furniture hadn’t had a good cleaning in quite some time, Wakatsuki’s shape taking a permanent indent in the couch. Nanami’s head shifted slightly, her eyes scanned the room in growing anger. The girls hadn’t even moved from their spots out of fear.

“I said… Line. Up.”

Nanami stomped her heel into the floor, threatening to crack the tile. It was all that was needed. All of them leapt from their spots, forming a line three paces from her. There was no denying the woman’s power; she could shake the very will of even the most hardened souls. When Nanami finally turned around, she stared directly into each girl’s frightened eyes. Her eyes were like ice, freezing each of them to their very core, her aura like a queen that would destroy any and all walls in the name of conquest. The only person not to be intimidated by Nanami was MaiMai. But with MaiMai gone…

“I cannot believe this. You are all a mess.” Nanami crossed her arms, tilting her chin upwards with a brow raised in disbelief. “What would Mai think? Blindly calling out war, fighting amongst each other. On top of that, you trashed the club room.” She really did sound like a disapproving father, beginning to pace in front of them. She gave an exasperated sigh, dropping her hands to her waist. “I called in a fake emergency for this?”

“But, Kazumin–”

“Had a genuine concern for her teammates, Sakurai.” Each girl snapped her attention over the second Reika opened her mouth. No one spoke back at Nanami, no one but MaiMai. “Kazumin did what MaiMai told her to do if the situation called for it, something that should have been done a month ago. Are you insane Mai?” Nanami looked more than pissed. She barely cared for what would happen to this council but she was seething at what has become of MaiMai’s beloved team. “This situation at a glance is beyond ridiculous. Starting a war with Majisuka Jogakuen? You are not yankees. You are Noborizaka Elite Private Academy students.”

“Actually, Nishino and I are–” Yumi shakily raised her hand with an uncomfortable pout and matching soft tone.

The graduate immediately lifted her forefinger out towards the yankee girl, promptly silencing her. “You are both children stuck in your middle school rebellious stage. You will be silent, Wakatsuki.”

Yumi lowered her head just as fast as she had raised it. Nanase didn’t even bother, knowing Nanami’s wrath better than any of them. Erika smirked to herself, keeping her head down as she attempted not to laugh. Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“And you, Erika. You had your temper under control, what the hell happened? Has MaiMai moving on really made you uncontrollable again? Destroying property, challenging anyone with a different opinion? Huh?” Nanami raised her brow at her, stepping forward. “Didn’t we tell you to channel your anger into the piano? Oh, and I know what you did to Reika’s tablet. I expect you to pay her back for it.”

The short-tempered girl gulped. “Y-Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

Nanami gazed over each of her former teammates once more before taking a deep breath to calm her annoyed nerves. “Kazumin filled me in on what's going on, has been for quite some time. I’m more surprised it took until now for you all to need me.” Turning around, Nanami strode to the projector, debilitating Reika’s formation. “This composition will only work if everyone pulls their own weight. It’s how teams work.” She sighed softly, grabbing the remote to slide through photos of their opponents. “That means Kazumin and Sakurai, too.”

“Eh… But…” Kazumi wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Kazumin.” Nanami glanced at her before extending her hand to the girl. Without a shred of hesitation, Kazumi took Nanami’s hand, staying close even if she was pouting the entire time. “I know you dislike fighting, but try to think of it like this. You’re protecting your family instead of fighting for the sake of fighting. Doesn’t that sound better?” Nanami tilted her head as she offered a small smile, trying to relate to her to appeal to her peace-loving nature. Nanami was pretty good at it, often consoling her in the past when Fukugawa Mai couldn’t. She had to learn the skill slowly, knowing that depending on Nanase to be a voice of reason was impossible. It was a side of her that few people experienced.

“I guess it does…” Kazumi looked down in thought, even if her mind was very gullible and easily swayed. Yet, after a few moments she raised her head with a smile, giving the most energetic nod. “I’ll do it! For my family and my school!”

“Atta girl.” Nanami grinned, patting her head before sending her back to join the others.

“But Nanamin… what about me…?” Reika hugged her tablet, unsure of her position in the team. If everyone was going to fight, where does she stand? “I can’t even properly punch someone…”

“That’s fine.” Nanami shifted from Kazumi, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s why you won’t be alone. You have everyone with you.” She held her head high, trying to boost the girl’s confidence. “They’ll help you become stronger and stand your ground. I know you’re not a violent person but you can’t be afraid. Let them teach you.”

If you looked close enough, you could see Reika smile at Nanami’s words, giving her a nod. Everyone always benefited from Nanami visiting. Whether it is with her lectures or pep talks, Nanami always said what was needed rather than what was wanted. Even if she was clearly biased towards Kazumi as the favorite of her children, she was the father figure to MaiMai’s mother figure of the group. Nothing went by without her knowing about it.

Nanami exhaled and stepped back, striding towards the laptop. “Okay, everyone, sit down. I’ll figure this plan out in a way that everyone will have a winning chance with little to no trouble.” She grabbed the remote the PowerPoint, watching everyone file into their seats. As well as a fashion consultant, she was also a proficient strategist. Reika had to have learned from someone to be where she is now. “With any luck we can knock the declaration and first battle out of the way in one fell swoop to save time. Just trust in me, Dad will help.”

Dad will always be there to help.

To be continued…

#Noborizaka: November Rain #Noborizaka #N:NR #Nogizaka46 #Majisuka Gakuen #collab #w.Ali #Multi-chapter

[artandteaandstuff-blog]

Kings and Queens - Part 25

Summary: Emma Swan is struggling as an actress. All seems lost until she manages to swing a spot on Kings and Queens, the most popular Medieval TV Show of all time. But here’s the catch: Emma hates being in love, and acting it is proving more tricky than she first thought. Her whole world is about to change, especially working alongside her new and mysterious co-star Killian Jones. It’s been so long since Emma has opened her heart to anyone. Could she start now?

Rating: T. But there is a chapter later in the fan fiction which blurs the lines a little. Apart from that, no other warnings

Can also be found here, on FF.net.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT I PART NINE | PART TEN | PART ELEVEN | PART TWELVE | PART THIRTEEN | PART FOURTEEN | PART FIFTEEN | PART SIXTEEN | PART SEVENTEEN | PART EIGHTEEN | PART NINETEEN | PART TWENTY | PART TWENTY-ONE | PART TWENTY-TWO | PART TWENTY- THREE | PART TWENTY-FOUR

Author’s notes:

STILL THANK YOU  @electrictoes and @holdmecloseandfast.

Check out the amazing art @lucythemarauder created for this, right HERE. It is brilliant, go check it out!

@katie-dub made this gorgeous edit for my story, which you can see HERE. It’s so brilliant, check it out!

“Mom.”

Emma groans, and buries her head in the pillow. She can hear the distant calling, but she tries to tune it out. She is too sleepy. So sleepy. She was up all night thinking about Killian and his hands and his voice and-

“Mom. You’re gonna wanna get up now.”

She pulls the covers over her head. Henry’s voice is becoming more and more clear now as the haziness of sleep evaporates.

“Mom!”

Another groan escapes her as he pulls the covers back down. She glances at the clock. Eight thirty. She gives him an unimpressed expression. “It’s not even ten yet, kid. Why are you awake?”

“The scripts have been leaked.”

Maybe it’s the haziness of sleep or maybe it’s because she didn’t expect it at all, but it takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. When they do, her heart is already hammering in her chest. “What do you mean? What scripts?”

“The finale scripts, Mom.” His eyes have an excited light. “You’ll never guess what. Toby dies.”

“What?” That makes her sit up. She pushes the covers away.

Toby dies? Graham’s off the show? Just like that? She had no idea. She hasn’t even read them yet. She hasn’t had the chance. She only got them yesterday, for crying out loud!

“He’s killed by the king! Can you believe it? I really really really liked Toby.”

“I can’t believe someone leaked the scripts.” She’s shaking her head. “Who would do that? Who would ruin this for people? How is it fair?”

“I don’t know, Mom, but it was all over Tumblr.”

The springs squeak as she jumps out of bed. She’s going to need a coffee for this. Leaked scripts? Of all the things she expected to go wrong, she hadn’t expected this. The show’s always been an environment where everyone trusts each other. Who would do this?

Emma reads through the scripts. The spoilers were right, Toby dies. He’s supposed to be getting information for the king on Alexander and Rose. When the king finds out they’re together, he kills Toby right there and then, simply in anger. Emma knows why - it’s to show the king is ruthless and reckless and doesn’t care about who he hurts. Much like Gold himself, actually.

Killing Toby is a bold move. He’s become a fan favourite, as well as Graham with his kind smile and twinkling eyes.

“I can’t believe it,” says Henry when they sit at the table for breakfast. He slams his orange juice down, shoulders slumped, head hanging. He just looks depressed.

To be fair, she’s upset herself. They may have had a rocky past week, but she doesn’t want him to leave, not now. He was her first proper friend. She’ll miss seeing him on set. The feeling leaves her with an emptiness.

The phone rings, shrill in the silence. With a sigh, Emma rises from her seat and walks over to the hook. Maybe it’s Graham. She hopes it is. She won’t be much of a comfort, but they can patch things up.

“Hello?” she asks.

“Emma Swan?” comes an Australian accent.

“Belle?” Emma blinks in surprise. She’s never rung her before, not at home. “What can I do for you?”

Her voice is sad. “I’m going to have to ask you to come into work.”

“Today? But it’s my day off?” She knows this can happen sometimes, especially when there are scenes to finish off, or last minute scenes they want to add in. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened yet.

“You don’t have to come in for long. Just for an hour. Just for a meeting.”

“A… meeting?” She frowns. She and Henry exchange confused expressions, and then it dawns on her. “Is this about the scripts?”

“Can you be here for one o’clock?”

Her eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. “Yeah, sure thing, but-”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Emma’s taken back by her abruptness. “Okay. See you then.”

The line goes dead. Emma stands there for a moment, phone in hand, a frown on her face. She has a bad feeling about this. She’s never been called in for a meeting before. They couldn’t think she leaked the scripts, could they?

Could they?

Suck it up, Swan she says to herself. Then she takes in a deep breath, presses the phone back on the hook, and takes a long, hot shower to clear her head.

A few hours later she stands outside Belle’s office, arms folded, foot tapping. She’s scared and she doesn’t exactly know why. She shouldn’t feel guilty or worried because she’s done nothing wrong, but Emma’s intuition is going wild and she should always trust her intuition

It’s raining - she watches it out the window as she waits. It still clings to her curls, even though she’s been inside for a good ten minutes.

After another five minutes of waiting she begins pacing, walking up and down the cramped corridor.

Eventually the door creaks open and Belle’s head pops out. “C’mon in, Emma.”

Feeling very much like she’s taking the walk of shame, she follows her into the office. It’s small and modest, but cosy with a desk and a bunch of papers. A clock hangs on the wall. On her desk there’s a photo in a sparkly photo frame. Belle’s in it, smiling next to… Gold? Are they a couple? Emma didn’t realise they were together.

Belle sits down and gestures for Emma to do the same on the other side of the desk. She does so, feeling like Belle is the school principal and Emma is a naughty student.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the scripts were leaked,” says Belle, clasping her hands in front of her. She doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Henry told me. This morning. He woke me up with the news.”

“This is… delicate.” She’s looking at her hands, avoiding Emma’s face. That’s not a good sign.

“What is it?”

“You and Killian are the only two people who were given scripts.”

“And you think I-”

“I don’t know what to think.” Finally, she meets her eyes. “But I know that Killian didn’t do that.”

“Which leaves me.” Her voice is flat.

“I-” Belle’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to believe. But if I look at it in terms of evidence-” She shakes her head. “It adds up.”

“So what are you going to do, then?” Emma doesn’t mean for her voice to sound so hard, but she’s been in this position before, when Neal stole the watches and let her take the blame. “Condemn me because ‘it adds up’? Not even hear me out? Just assume it was me?”

“I’m going to talk to the other producers. See what they say. This has never happened before.”

Her words are clear. This has never happened before. But it does now, when Emma joins the cast. She has to admit, it looks bad, but Belle should know she would never do this. She has Henry to think about. This could wreck her whole acting career, especially if she’s fired for leaking the scripts. No self respecting show or film could trust her, even if she tells them she didn’t do it.

“Emma…” Belle’s voice is softer now, as she looks right into her eyes. “If it was you, I need to know now. It’ll look a lot better on your part if you admit it sooner rather than later, and I’ll see if I can… sweet talk the producers. Keep you on the show. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I have nothing to admit.”

Her eyes are pleading. “If you have a… a reason of some sort, maybe we could-”

“I did not leak the scripts,” she spits out through gritted teeth.

Belle watches her for a long time, face white and sad. It’s the type of sad that leaves an emptiness inside Emma. She doesn’t need this, not with Graham and then Killian to deal with.

“Is that all?” Emma eventually asks, trying to keep her voice neutral this time. She fails.

“That’s all.”

“Do I bother coming back to work tomorrow?”

“I’ll call you,” she says, softly.

“Fine.”

Teeth gritted, hands clenched, Emma rises from her seat and leaves. She walks past the sets until she finds her bug. Eyes are on her the whole way, but she ignores them. Only when she’s in her bug, does she feel like she can breathe properly.

She’s so angry that white spots are starting to form in front of her eyes. She has to take deep, calming breaths. Only when she stops shaking, does she pull out and onto the road.

She doesn’t know where to go. She doesn’t want to go home and face Henry’s concerned eyes and expression. She’s dreading telling him that she’s facing losing her job. She doesn’t want to go to Mary Margaret either, because she won’t be able to handle David’s disappointment.

Then she knows exactly who she wants to see.

Killian.

0Shock doesn’t cover the expression that crosses his face when he opens the door and finds her there, looking up at him with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Swan?”

“I think I… owe you an apology,” she says, looking down at his feet. God, she hates apologising. She hates being wrong - it’s just humiliating - but she has, indeed, been wrong. Well, not entirely wrong, but she hasn’t dealt with this as nearly as well as she should have.

“You should come in.”

She follows him inside, very aware of the silence that surrounds them and cushions her echoing steps. Last time she made her way into his house it was under very different circumstances. As much as she hates to admit it, she knew what she was getting herself into. She knew what was going to happen.

“Coffee?” he asks, as she follows him into the kitchen. “Tea? A cold drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee.”

He switches the kettle on, his back to her. She’s unable to take her eyes off him as she sinks into one of the chairs at the table. She drops her bag down beside her. Usually Emma doesn’t mind silences, but this is too much to bear. She drums her fingers lightly against the table.

Once he’s made the drinks, he turns around and sets them on the table, sitting in the chair opposite her. Emma leans over and takes a look at the colour of his drink.

“Are you drinking that awful tea stuff again?”

“Yes,” is all he says.

It sends them into silence again, where they both stare down at their drinks, burning holes into them. She watches the steam rise from the drink and float up into the air. They sit in silence for another five minutes before-

“I thought you didn’t want this to go any further.”

“I don’t,” she says too quickly. “I didn’t. I- don’t know. I guess I just needed someone to talk to.”

“And everyone else was unavailable?” His tone is bitter.

She draws in a breath and meets his eyes. “It’s you I wanted to talk to, actually.”

“Why?”

Just say it, Emma. She could so easily admit that she cares about him, that he has somehow found a way to imprint himself on her heart, where select few people have been, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to lose what they have, and they have something all right. Saying it would just make it real.

Her eyes are wide and pleading. Please don’t make me say it, they say. He sighs.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear… what?”

“The finale scripts have been leaked.”

Shock flickers over his face. “Bloody- what?”

“Henry told me this morning.” She wraps her hands around her mug. It’s warm and comforting. “He woke me up with the news. Now everyone knows that Toby dies. Before Graham even knew, actually.”

“Bloody hell,” he blows out. He’s shaking his head, staring off into the distance. “Do they know who did it?”

“No. But they-” This is a little harder to say. “They think it’s me.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says instantly, slamming his fist on the table.

“You believe me, then?” she asks, with a weak smile.

“Absolutely.”

She takes a shaky sip from her drink. “I’m facing losing my job.”

“What?” His eyes are on her now, wide and furious. “No. I’ll tell them it wasn’t you.”

“I don’t think it’s that-”

“We just need to find out who actually did it. Then we can prove it wasn’t you.”

She watches him, his fury, and her heart softens. Killian has been nothing but kind to her since she arrived, and now he’s willing to defend her corner, to fight for her. Guilt pangs in her chest.

“Killian, I-”

She what? There’s a lump in her throat and it refuses to move.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says.

He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. She looks down at their hands and then back up into his eyes. So soft. So gentle.

I think I love you.

The words have formed in her head before she has time to stop them.

The thought tightens her chest and makes it hard to breathe. This, by far, is the most dangerous thought of all. She didn’t see this coming, not after their initial meeting. She sensed it after their kiss, and after she lay in his arms at night and refused to move.

She senses it now.

“I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” he says, softly.

“What?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“You have?”

“Yes, and…” He takes a sip of his tea, maybe to buy him time to form the right words. “If you don’t want… what we have… to go any further, it’s okay.”

Her brows furrow. “It is?”

“‘Course. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s not for me to decide whether you should be in a relationship or not, whether it’s with me or another man.” His eyes flicker up to hers. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says, barely audible.

She doesn’t understand. For weeks she had him pinned as an arrogant, manipulative womaniser and here he is, surprising her yet again. All he’s done is surprise her.

“I miss you, Emma.” His voice holds a twinge of sadness, as does his face.

“You don’t have to anymore,” she tells him because even after what they’ve done, ‘I miss you too’ sounds too intimate.

The smile he gives her makes her heart flutter, and suddenly it’s all too much, but she doesn’t want to run like she did before - she owes it to him to stay - and so she needs a breather.

“Do you mind if I use one of your bathrooms?”

“‘Course not. I’d recommend the one on the first floor for the best bathroom experience.”

She gives him a look as she rises from the table. “I’ve been in your bathrooms before, y’know.” She’s only just reached the doorway when she turns to throw him another look, this one softer. “Put the kettle on again. I’ll stay for another hour or two.”

His sigh is as soft as her expression. Relieved. “I’m glad to hear it.”

She disappears through the door and up the stairs, holding onto the bannister as she pulls herself up. He’s right, the one on the first floor is the nicest, even nicer than that one she stayed in for FWC.

While she’s there, she splashes her face with cold water, and dabs the droplets away with a soft towel he’s left on the railing. It makes her feel more alert, more like herself. Killian believes her. He’ll help her. If she’s lucky, she won’t lose her job. With one last deep breath, she leaves the bathroom.

She makes her way down the endless corridor, once again marveled at the sight of his house. Her eyes can’t help but wander, to the pictures on the walls, into the different rooms.

She doesn’t mean to notice them, but when she does she wishes she hadn’t because that’s when the cogs start to turn in her head and everything slowly becomes clearer.

The scripts.

They’re in one of the bedrooms. The door is left swung open, and she catches sight of his bed in the full-length mirror. The scripts are fanned out on the silken sheets. That’s when she realises.

Only two people were given the scripts, bar Belle. Herself and Killian. And if she didn’t leak the scripts…

No, no, he wouldn’t. She tries to squash the thought. Killian is too kind, too good for that. Too charming. With a habit of holding grudges and a past of revenge plans. He told her that himself.

No, no.

Even Belle didn’t suspect him. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, meaning the only person she could possibly blame is Emma. The only logical solution and Killian knows this.

She’s certainly done enough to warrant such an attack, and especially since he’s one to hold grudges���

No.

Then she remembers something he said in the dark booth in that bar just after the Teddy Norman show when they were admitting things to each other. I was going to frame him. I’m good at things like that. That’s what he said. He was going to frame Gold and get him kicked off the show. How? By leaking the scripts?

It would make sense.

Ask him, she thinks. All she has to do is ask him. Then she can see if he’s lying and put the whole thing to rest.

Drawing in a breath and all the courage she can muster, Emma makes her way down the stairs and back into the kitchen. There’s a fresh coffee waiting for her. The sight makes her heart swell.

“Killian…”

He must pick up on her tone, because he frowns. “You alright, Swan?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.” She has a bad feeling about this. “I just need to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“But please don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” She’s avoiding his eyes.

He rises from his chair, voice concerned. “Emma?”

“I just need to know.”

A pause that cuts like a knife. When Killian speaks again, his voice is soft. “Please don’t ask me what I think you’re going to ask me.”

But she has to. She has to know. “Did you leak the scripts?” Her eyes move to his, which are dark and unreadable.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”

“Only two of us-” She takes a step towards him, but he steps back. It stings. “Only you and me were given those scripts. And I didn’t leak them.”

“And you think I did?” He raises his eyebrow, but not like he would when flirting or being teasing. His face doesn’t hold any warmth. She’s not entirely sure what it holds.

“I just need an answer. Just answer me so I know you’re not lying.” That’s all she needs, an answer. And then she’ll be able to tell.

His face darkens over, like a storm. “You shouldn’t need to bloody ask,” he all but shouts. She doesn’t flinch.

“Just tell me. Did you or didn’t you?” She hates how pleading her voice sounds. “I just need to know.”

“I don’t need to answer.”

That’s confession enough for her. He knows about her superpower. He’s well aware that if he were to answer, she’d be able to tell whether he has something to hide. If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t need to hide. He could just answer no.

She feels like someone has just dipped her in icy water. It sends a chill right down to her bones.

“Why?” she says, barely a whisper. And then: “Don’t tell me.” She’s already pulling her jacket over her shoulders.

Betrayal. That’s the only word going through her mind over and over again. Complete and utter betrayal. How could he do this to her?

She was right about him. She hadn’t misjudged him. He’s a manipulator and a liar and she should have seen it coming. It’s like Neal and Walsh all over again. Everytime she gets close to a guy, they let her down, but this is the last straw. Her walls are too high now. Good luck to anyone who tries to climb over them.

He doesn’t call her back as she storms down his corridors, but she can feel something radiating off him. Anger at being caught? She doesn’t care. She just knows she needs to get out of that house now and put as much distance between herself and that liar as possible.

She goes straight home, tears in her eyes.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au

[sharofeels]

January 2017 - Loews Sapphire Falls Resort

First thing to get out of the way: yes, the Loews Sapphire Falls Resort is on property and is part of the Universal Orlando Resort; no, it does not have the Unlimited Express Passes. It’s on the website, it’s not a new thing, Universal hasn’t been giving all onsite guests Express Passes since the opening of Cabana Bay in March of 2014. Sapphire Falls has never once been advertised or hinted to have Express Passes. Sorry, it just really gets my goat when I see people complain that the hotel which costs less than the Royal Pacific with the same room sizes and star rating is somehow cheating them out of the Express Passes. Nobody makes you choose the lower priced option, and it’s not a secret that something that costs less is generally going to deliver less. ON TO THE ACTUAL HOTEL. The Loews Sapphire Falls Resort is steadily inching towards being my favorite hotel in the Orlando area. The thoughtfulness and aesthetic integrity that went into the hotel’s design are much appreciated. Anybody who’s been to the Caribbean- even just on a cruise with a few stops in Bahamian ports- is going to recognize the architectural and design elements at play. The hallways are light and airy, the elevator landings have great views of the fabulous pool area, and the public spaces are all comfortable without being slouchy. At check-in and check-out I probably witnessed a dozen people stopping to take photos of the massive art installation-slash-basket lamp overhead; thirteen if you count me, taking a photo after check-out. The beds are comfortable; I had a queen-sized to myself and managed to construct a perfect nest out of every available pillow. My travel companion K had her own queen as well, but had a little more difficulty getting comfortable with the feather pillows. I did have trouble figuring out how many sheets were on the bed- I tossed off the comforter and tucked myself under the sheets, but there was a warm knit blanket between the identical white sheets so I struggled with figuring out why I was so sweaty. The pool is beautiful; K and I were overjoyed with the fact that pool service existed. The waitstaff seemed… oddly trusting, more on that later. The hot tub is huge and conveniently located next to the pool bar and the fire pit. It’s also somewhat inconveniently located directly in the path of the entryway to the waterslide; there was an uncomfortable amount of toddler bodies in the hot tub when K and I were in there, and far too many kids of a certain age who thought it appropriate to do a running jump into the hot tub, splashing us directly in the face. This is not particularly the hotel’s fault, per se, just a sort of “hindsight is 20/20” moment that brought out everyone’s armchair landscape designer. Food and service were generally positive but a little bit of a mixed bag. We went first to Strong Water Tavern and sat ourselves at the bar, in a little three-seated nook where they prepared limes and sawed ice cubes off an enormous block of ice. The food was impeccable; K got the Caribbean Mixed Seafood Ceviche and I got the Cuban Mojito Ceviche. Her food was very good (I stole some off her plate,) and I literally wolfed mine down. Absolutely would come back and order it again. The rum flights were… fun but slightly disappointing. The waitstaff gave good recommendations based off my flimsy request, but in an establishment that sells single shots for $15 I would expect an $18 order of three samples to add up to at least one single shot altogether. Nobody’s ordering a trio of rums with accompanying backstory with the purpose of getting wasted, but I do like to walk away from the bar with the knowledge that a drink was had. Strong Water is quiet and adult; I would take a date there or have a small business after-dinner snack meeting there. K and I were on the hunt specifically for nachos for dinner, so after our drink and ceviche we took the water-taxi over to Citywalk. Margaritaville is the home of the Volcano Nachos, a dish that K and I have attempted to eat with the help of our other two travel buddies. Somehow we assumed that our inability to finish it off in a group of four meant that we, just the two of us, could eat the entire thing. We made a valiant attempt but ultimately failed to finish our food. This led us to our next problem; we were simply too full to do anything else that required wearing pants or shoes or being upright. As we were waddling back to the hotel from the restaurant, we decided that we would grab ourselves some Diet Coke, make a couple of cuba libres in the hotel room, and watch TV in our pajamas. We thought, erroneously, that we would be able to do this quickly and easily. We stopped first at the New Dutch Trading Company, the little market-style grab-and-go store in the lobby. It’s my fault that I assumed it would be open 24 hours, because there’s nothing that says it would be. We arrived fifteen minutes after it closed. We ruefully explained to the gentleman closing up shop that we’d come down in search of sugar-free diet soda, something with caffeine so we wouldn’t go straight to sleep. We asked if there are any vending machines on the premises; turns out, there are none whatsoever. The man apologized profusely, then asked us to wait one second. He returned with two plastic cups full of jelly-filled donut holes and another apology. We carried the donuts back to the room, somewhat dismayed. (Between the two of us, K has a gluten allergy and I’m supposed to be lowering my sugar consumption. These donuts sadly went uneaten, but we appreciated the gesture.) We decided to order two diet sodas over room service. The desk agent was very polite, but regretfully had to inform us that it can take up to 45 minutes for delivery. Luckily, it only took 25 minutes. Not so luckily, I paid $17 dollars after the delivery fee and a tip for two cans of Diet Coke half an hour after I wanted them. I strongly suggest bringing at least a six-pack of canned soda for anyone who might want something to drink at night; the mini-fridge is not going to hold much more than that but it’ll keep the drinks cold. By the time we actually got the soda, we had enough energy to drink exactly one of the two cans split over two glasses of ice before we went straight to sleep. We did hold on to the second can for later use, though, because seven! Teen! Dollars! We checked out the next morning- it was just a single night’s stay, testing the waters, so to speak- and spent the morning and afternoon poolside. K had good things to say about the crab dip she had delivered to her lounge chair, although I didn’t try it myself. The waitstaff didn’t take our card info and just asked us to settle with her before we left. After a bit, we decided to move ourselves closer to the pool bar- we had a hankering for even more nachos and it was brunch time- and resettled closer to where we thought the waitress would be. Alas, she apparently (when we asked the guy at the bar) assumed we’d left and charged it to our room. The nachos this time around were better- fresher, for one, and not so soul-crushingly heavy on the guts. We would definitely order them again, and not because we as a group have an unsettling obsession with nachos. The drinks come in these little souvenir glasses whether you want them to or not, which isn’t endearing, but I suppose it technically saves plastic if instead of several cups you just get one sturdy cup and discounted refills. Overall I give the hotel four and a half stars out of five. I fail to understand how a hotel with this much conference and convention space somehow does not have a single vending machine or way to purchase non-alcoholic drinks after-hours, and there was an eerie moment of cognitive dissonance in the room’s bathroom because the sliding barn door made me feel like I’d gotten locked in a closet and was facing the wall. However! Nothing truly negative stood out about this hotel and considering it’s within its first year of operation and competitively priced, it really ought to come into its own as one of the more sought-after hotels in the area. We’ll see! (Food pics in next post!)

#Loews hotels #orlando #hotel review #food #service #sharotravels #review #travel