Author's notes:

This story collection of shorts is so meta it makes me dizzy at times. It is an AU departing from Educating Emma, an AU in itself. When reviewing, List of Romantics put quite a few images in my head: Emma in a leather suit. Emma and Regina killing off the family instead of dancing to their tune. Emma and Regina tossing them out of a tower as a post coital activity… I admit it, my thoughts paralyzed at the mention of Emma in a leather suit, so everything after that sounded good… Lol.

Read with caution. This has been rated M for violence, gore and sexy times. You should expect Kill Bill/ Pulp Fiction (minus the drugs) meets Once Upon a Time. Do not take the stories seriously. They are a pastiche meant just as a stress reliever and in no way do I want to see it happening on screen (well, I will not object to Emma in a leather suit.)

Rediver was so kind as to give it a first reading and mentioning it might be fun. Marie was her usual kind self and betaed these stories.

So now, here is the deal: this collection exists as a stress reliever. I will use it when I feel the need to kill someone (I do this in my head several times a day just to keep sane) If you feel the need to kill someone (in your head only) and want Emma and Regina's help with this or if there was something in Educating Emma that you'd have liked to see and didn't happen, let me know. Privately or otherwise.

Much love

Jane

Don't waste your pennies throwing them at fountains.

Before you waste a penny on any random fountain, think that the stupid wish might just come true, alright?

You go and wish you had a family. Sure, good for you, poor little orphan Emma. And then what?

Just when you thought you had no more need of a family, all grown up and ready to go, here's what you do: you leave your comfy life in Boston all because an urchin tells you you're his long lost mom. At first, you just let him drink your bloody juice, and the next thing you know, you're torturing your old car to drive him all the way to Middle of Nowhere, Maine. And you stay in said place because all the business lost for the night was just not enough. No, you go and you stay for a week and then you just might as well make yourself at home in a backwater town sheriff's uniform that makes you look like a sack of potatoes.

Sure, you ogle the mayor a bit (you have to keep the days interesting after all), get ogled back, no sweat, you know how it is, you have a mirror in the house. But then shit gets weird and you end up fighting dragons for the kid with his other mom (no, not divorced lesbian mom at all, why the very idea!) and get, for your troubles, a readymade mommy and daddy who are none other than frickin' Snow White and Prince Charming. Complete with seven dwarves.

Things could only get worse if:

1- Your mom had been Cinderella (let's not forget your less salubrious ways) who, by the way is alive, well and sends her regards;

2- Disney had been right about the singing birds – Enchanted Forest (yeah that one) you can handle, wildlife tra la la-ing all day, not so much.;

3- You were not currently shagging an extremely fine witch – albeit, a premenstrual one.

It could get considerably better if:

1- You were not at the top of the highest tower waiting for the signal to attack;

2- You were not wearing a black leather cat suit (minus the tail, thank god for small mercies) just because it pleases said premenstrual witch;

3- The afore mentioned witch was not perched on a similar tower trying to give you instructions by gesticulating madly which you wouldn't be able to understand even if she wasn't already losing her patience and going at it at the speed of light.

Yep, go on, toss a few more pennies in that fountain, Emma Swan. I dare you.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

An owl hoots in the night and just like that, all thoughts of pennies and the Enchanted Forest leave Emma's mind. The family- and that is meant in a totally Godfather mafia sort of way- leaves the protection of their castle walls. The good for nothing traitors, scum of the earth, boils in the ass of the White Kingdom, leave their plush – and totally mortgaged walls (mortgaged to the cojones to the thankfully -for them- dim witted giant out of Candy Floss Mountain – who the hell comes up with the toponymy in this universe?) and make their way to the equally plush and probably just as mortgaged carriage.

Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to ensure that they never make it to the White Kingdom.

Mission accepted.

From her tower, the pre-menstrual witch gives the final silent warning and when the carriage sets out, two women fly (magically, of course, the Enchanted Forest is no Mission Impossible and the closest thing to Tom Cruise and his gadgets is a gifted- and pre-menstrual witch) from their respective towers and land imperceptibly on the carriage. Swords drawn, they simply plunge them through the ceiling of the carriage. Silk and brocade might be pretty and comfortable, but a safety feature they are not.

It's easier than opening a packet of Cheetos. And a lot messier too.

Rowena, her good for nothing husband King Sebastian, and her precious child of darkness, Roderick (who, Emma had it on good authority, intended to ask for her hand in marriage in the hopes of adding one more collectible kingdom to The Family's portfolio -honestly, you'd think they were property magnates trying to collect villas in the south of France) meet their bloody and gory fate that night, impaled on the enchanted swords yielded by both cat-like suited ladies like kebabs in the street market in Boston (no, Storybrooke was mercifully clean of street vendors and appealing food carts.)

The driver finally manages to bring the carriage to a stop, the spooked horses the only indication that two more occupants are in the vehicle, magic cloaking them.

Emma breathes deeply, this flying by night still leaves her a little wobbly at the knees, a little air sick.

Regina notices the same thing you would: the movement of the chest when Emma breathes is a great enhancer of the Princess' natural charms. Her breasts press against the black leather, straining, begging her to release them from their confines.

No problem, the pre-menstrual witch thinks. She can be that accommodating. She holds the princess by the hand and poofs them into the abandoned cabin in the woods that used to belong to Emma's grandmother.

It's been a while, but it is still weird to be moaning and writhing in the throes of passion knowing that your in-laws are just down the hall from your room and, with the volume Emma easily reaches, more likely than not, listening to every single one of your best moves.

Not kosher.

As for the mess of shish kebabs in the carriage?

It's always best to prove results. She charms the carriage and directs it to the White Castle. Let dear mother-in-law deal with the body disposal. She has more pressing matters in her hands. And it's still a little funny to have Snow fret at the blood spillage.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The fountain may toss a few pennies back at you. It's not easy to go from totally alone to no elbow room. But all in all, things could have been substantially worse, had you not:

1- Found parents that actually like you and what you've made of yourself and your choices;

2- Gained a son that looks at you like you're Wonder Woman or Superman… whichever (the super fire-fighter photoshop still gives you pause);

3- Been shagging a witch that knows the truth of you and loves you despite all your inabilities, failures and short comings;

4- Been shagging a witch that looks at you like her Christmases have all arrived at the same time.

Go on Emma Swan, admit it: you stopped collecting pennies to toss at fountains. Life is pretty great right now.