#so we are either gonna read this whole poster thing as buck being perfect for eddie and pining (now and or later)

[headless-horsegirl]

there's an alternate ending to Vertigo where Midge does not disappear, she stays by his side and they get drinks together at the end of the movie, showing that even after all that happened she won't abandon him.

as far as i remember hitchcock did not want to have that tag ending (see Vertigo: The making of a Hitchcock classic by Dan Auiler, p.130, very interesting read) and only included it in the filming process cause some higher up wanted it, he ultimately (in the us) released his version. it would be a cool parallel to now have that be included (buck stays by eddie, from what they said about eddie feeling like he has nobody to run to this seems unlikely but what do i know, could be eddie just running from everyone but in reality buck is still there by his side) because initially the higher ups at fox were against buddie and now the vision of tim gets fulfilled. would be a fun parallel and i am excited to see where this goes

[strangesmallbard]

parks and rec sq au!!

1. 

emma has based an alarming number of Big Life Decisions on impulse and another thing called well, what the hell? but this is pushing it. especially coming from her roommate, who double ordered their welcome mat five years ago. just in case. for what, mary margaret? in case, emma. so i can’t regift it? no.

“emma. come one! just yesterday you were complaining about your bounty hunter career’s lack of stability.” 

“bailsbondsperson.” emma takes a long swig of yesterday’s orange juice, which is warm. “and it was a figure of speech! sort of. i get work. just last week i collared a guy. the one who wore that top hat.”

she gives emma her most placating, earnest smile. the one that makes neighbors and birds alike swarm them in central park. “but do you enjoy it?”

“hey, i got to keep the top hat! pawn shop took it for thirty bucks. i bought an extra-large pepperoni. you had four slices. traitor.”

mary margaret hands her a brochure filled with smiling families, promises of the best burgers on the east coast, and scenic views. “this town has something for both of us and i don’t want to move to a new state without my best friend at my side. and besides, its perfect! city hall is looking for…”

2.

and that’s how emma moves to storybrooke, maine, and becomes the official city hall day-time security guard.

“fuck,” emma says at the large metal door. it’s the only part of the whole building made this decade, and so it’s the only part with a key code. which keeps angrily beeping at her. 

she balances her coffee in the crook of her arm, and rustles around her phone notes for the lock combination. 1983. which she tried four times. she tries it a fifth and it not only beeps at her, it also says CALL SECURITY.

“that’s me, you shit burger piece of–”

“it’s six fifty-eight. it doesn’t work before seven am.”

she whips around so fast her coffee sloshes out of the lid. it’s the lady from the parks department. the one with the nice pantsuit who yelled at jones at emma’s first staff meeting yesterday. today she’s wearing another nice pantsuit. and she’s also holding coffee. and her eyes are kind of startling in the morning. in a good way. and she’s tapping her foot with her arms crossed. wait.  “that’s ridiculous. how does the night time guard get in?”

parks department–mills! rolls her eyes. “he has a different code. i don’t know where you come from, ms. swan, but we take safety very seriously here.”

“okay, that’s–this is a town with less than five thousand people. i saw a moose this morning. the entire fourth floor of this building is abandoned, and probably haunted. why the fanfare? did nicholas cage hide another national fucking treasure in the basement next to the records of the best berry jam winners in the last century?”

regina narrows her eyes and lets out the longest, most murderous breath. “it’s seven now. will you please–oh, never mind. the imbeciles nolan hires.” mills nudges past her and puts the code in so fast that emma only processes it once mills fixes her with one last glare. “have a wonderful day, ms. swan.”

she closes the door. it locks behind her. nice.

3.

here’s how it goes:

there’s a great big pit of dirt in the center of town and no one will explain the intricately engraved sign spelling out storybrooke commons. even ruby from granny’s, who practically runs the town’s social media. because she hacked every single social media account.

the mayor is evil. kind of like miranda priestly, but like, actually evil. 

emma buys regina a let’s start over coffee with three sugars (she asked ruby) and bearclaw (can’t go wrong with a bearclaw!) and her eyes kind of shined and she said thank you, genuinely. she also said i hate bearclaws. 

town hall meetings can and will run for three hours straight through lunch and no one will judge you too hard for whipping out a gogurt at hour two.

(except regina. and everyone. then regina will start bringing you “real yogurt” which is yoplait, but whatever, and then you’ll bring her a box of gogurts in retaliation, and that’s a whole thing.)

hot chocolate with cinnamon from granny’s who has okay burgers. (don’t tell granny.) 

regina’s son is filming a documentary for an art project, so there’s a lot of footage of emma tripping at that one tricky spot on the third floor.

smalltown squirrels will outsmart you, and it’s. fine to let that go.

4.

(”i mean, i don’t mind the squirrels. per-say. they’re fine. they’re doing fine. they’re doing what they’re meant to be doing. but do they have to climb into the air vents? do they have to drop acorns into the gutter pipes? do they–”

“emma, i was asking you about town infrastructure. what do you know about budgeting?”

“still just the security guard, kid. i know less than the squirrels.”

“but you could–”

“i am not letting you break into your grandmother’s office.”

“worth another try!”)

5.

three days before halloween, regina pages (actually pages) her to the park’s department, which is covered inspirational poster to inspirational poster with toilet paper. and silly string that spells PAN.

“pan,” regina says, hands on her hips and teeth gritted. “every goddamn year!”

“uh,” emma says, and puts her hands on her hips too. “so, who’s pan?”

“in class yesterday he said that ophelia got what she deserved at the end of hamlet,” ava, one of the interns, says, shaking her head. grace, another intern, pats her clenched fist on the table.

“alright, yowch, i hope your teacher took off points,” emma says in her direction, “but is anyone gonna answer my question?”

regina gives a frustrated noise and puts a hand on her forehead. she narrows her eyes in emma’s direction. “i will destroy him if it’s the last thing i’ll do.”

ava nods emphatically. grace gives a very concerned frown.

“he’s the grandson of rupert gold, the town mega capitalist,” zelena says, eyes rolling on the vowel. she leans back in her chair. “so he can antagonize everyone with absolutely zero legal consequence. and he’s my dear little sister’s arch nemesis.”

“he is not.”

emma can’t suppress a grin. “a fourteen year old is your arch nemesis?”

regina throws her arms up, abruptly goes to her office, and slams the door shut.

more silly string falls from the ceiling.

6.

“leroy, for the last time, we will try to find your pickaxe.”

“that’s what you said last year, mills! i’m not buying a new pickaxe when there’s a perfectly good one still out there! waiting!”

regina pinches the bridge of her nose. “this meeting is adjourned. please place all suggestions and further questions in the box currently being held by…” regina looks at emma with an odd sort of stare. “officer swan, apparently. enjoy the rest of your days, and don’t forget to donate to the fund for the storybrooke commons.”

there’s a single, solitary clap. from marian, in the first row. regina manages a smile in her direction. she gives regina a thumbs up and mouths something that could be have a shift, call you later. once the citizens start begrudgingly filing out, regina turns back to emma. “where’s ava?”

emma shrugs. “she said she had an emergency.”

regina sighs. “she’s reading on the fourth floor again.”

“damn. that’s a good idea.”

regina glares. 

“i mean, you know, it’s haunted, so there are better places. hey, do you want to get lunch?”

regina tilts her head. “lunch?” 

emma shrugs and it’s weird still holding the box. regina stands up and stretches, grabs her folders and straightens them out on the government-issued plastic table. “you know. lunch. that thing with the food and the talking. or not talking if that’s more your thing.”

regina rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “talking’s fine if it’s not about squirrels.”

“they’re a menace, regina. a danger.”

regina steps towards her and grabs the box. she’s suddenly standing close. “i know a place along the highway. don’t tell granny.”

7.

(“storybrooke commons is how marian and i met. her now very ex-boyfriend fell into the pit and i told her we’d build a park.”

“how long ago was that?”

“ten years.”

“oh damn.”

“yes. damn is right. according to my mother, it’s just never in the budgets.”

“you know, henry was asking about that.”

“henry?”

“hey! emma! i told you that was top secret!”

“henry, what did i say about video-taping without permission?”

“it’s a documentary, mom! i need candids!”)

8.

marian is regina’s best friend. and she’s a nurse. and she’s terrifying. and she’s the nicest person emma’s ever met.

and now she’s in emma’s living room. talking to her roommate. emma blinks away the dream, but it’s definitely not a dream.

“morning, emma!” mary margaret says, clasping her hands together. “marian here, your friend–i am so glad you’re making friends!–says you two are going to campaign today? for regina?” 

emma stretches her arm behind her back. “what now?”

marian, still in her scrubs and holding one of mary margaret’s prized humming bird themed tea cups, raises a brow at her. “do you want hook to win a seat on the city council?”

emma wakes the fuck up. “hell no.”

they go around house to house and it’s grueling because it’s humid as hell and the people of storybrooke fucking suck. emma leans against the bug and wills all the sweat on her back to evaporate. “do they really hate regina that much because of cora? didn’t they elect her mayor?”

marian heaves a box of campaign materials into the car and steps back, arms crossed. “not exactly. back in the day there was a neighboring town called applewood. it was full of vacationing republican senators and their shitty kids. cora was the reigning mayor. long story short it went broke, and it was regina’s idea to do a merger. which saved both towns, but you know. because of the Rich and Famous, cora won the election again. so everyone actually hates her for that. stupid.”

emma blinks. “this small-town dish keeps getting deeper.”

“what?”

“do you think i’d get arrested for tee-peeing cora’s office?”

marian barks out a laugh. “only if you promise not to arrest me either, officer swan.”

9.

(”do you like my mom?”

“what? i mean, yeah of course. but, what does that–”

“do you think she’s a good public city official, i mean. do you think she’s a good candidate for the city council?”

“kid, you’re the one who read the entire storybrooke-applewood constitution.”

“she’s my mom. i’m biased.”

“i mean, so am i.”

“what?”

“what?”

“i mean, you know. we hang out. i think she’s cool in like, a person way.”

“i know. you were at my house yesterday. you ate all my lucky charms.”

“oh sh–shoot. shoot.”)

10.

ten days after regina wins the election–by a margin because storybrooke is full of assholes–she invites emma to storybrooke commons.

“the pit?”

“just come, swan,” regina says, oddly soft. “henry’s at a friend’s house tonight.”

emma drives up to the pit. the dirt is all orange because of the waning sun and bright pink spilling over the tops of houses. regina stands in the middle next to one of those fold-out camp couches with the cup holders. she started an actual campfire too, and hands emma a marshmallow stick when she makes it over.

emma un-buries her hands from her pockets. “metal. fancy.”

“no one’s eating bark on my watch.”

emma watches the fire catch her. she’s wearing a track suit and a visor and her hair is in a ponytail. “what’s up? bureaucracy got you down?”

regina takes a breath. “what if i ran for mayor this year?”

emma spits out her proverbial drink, which really means she accidentally shakes one of her marshmallows into the fire. “you…”

regina hands her a hershey bar and two graham crackers. “gold approached me today. he said he’d run my campaign.”

emma manages to salvage one measly marshmallow. “okay, but isn’t gold the shadiest man alive?”

“dead too,” regina deadpans. “and i’d sooner let zelena run my campaign, but i have been thinking about it for a very long time.” meticulously, she slides her marshmallows between her graham crackers and hershey’s bar. she sits down and looks up at the sky. “running against my mother would be…”

“yeah, but you could do it.” emma shrugs, and sits down next to her. she balances her mess of a smores on her cupholder.  “you’ve proven over and over again how dedicated you are to this town.”

regina rubs the back of her neck and looks over at her, really looks. her eyes so startling in the sunset, and still in a good way. the best way. now emma notices the crinkles by her eyes too. “you have too, you know.”

emma snorts. “one squirrel at a time?”

regina doesn’t laugh. she keeps looking. she visibly swallows. emma leans in closer and regina tilts her head and says, “are you…going to eat your smores?”

emma’s head is swirling. she’s about to do another Big Thing on impulse. “can i kiss you?”

regina nods and suddenly her fingertips are on her cheeks, soft as anything, and her lips are warm in the cooling night, and emma runs her hand through regina’s hair, holds the back of her neck, and maybe this town isn’t going to be one of hundreds, maybe this isn’t another in-between-home, and the park is only a pit but not forever, some day there’s going to be greenery and fountains you can wish on and shit, and fuck the squirrels but she’s staying, maybe. maybe. yes.

11.

(”so, sheriff swan, how does it feel to be married to the mayor?”

“kid, you were our ring-bearer.”

“yeah, but i’m biased.”

“when does this video project end again?”

“that’s classified, ma.”)