"Goddamnit!" Emma was always clumsy but, seriously, that table leg came out of nowhere. Who hurts themselves while eating a donut? She was trying to take a mental break from the mountain of reports Regina assigned to her. "Graham didn't have this much friggin paperwork," she muttered into the donut. Emma kicked her feet onto her desk, letting a pile of papers scatter to the floor, and let her thoughts drift back to her discovery the night before.
Emma had agreed to help Mary Margaret clean out the loft that morning, grumbling only slightly before discovering there was coffee and breakfast waiting as she descended the stairs. Mary Margaret greeted her with a smile and a cup of strong, piping-hot coffee. Emma walked over to her with a grin, enjoying the sweet aroma of pancakes and syrup.
"Oh, hell yeah, you made pancakes!"
"Of course. I knew I wouldn't be able to get you to clean without a food bribe." Mary Margaret laughed.
"I clean! Sometimes..." Emma said unconvincingly. She was lucky if she did laundry once a week. The sniff test counts, right?
"Yeah, and I'm Mary Poppins."
"Um. Considering you're literally Snow White, I'm not sure you have room for jokes." Emma snorted.
"I think I liked you better before the curse broke. I can't make a single fairy tale joke without you ruining it."
"I didn't choose the sass life, it chose me. Now hand over those pancakes, Mrs. Buttersworth!"
"Emma, really..."
Emma ate her pancakes and quickly downed the strong coffee, immediately regretting promising to help her mother. She walked up the stairs and started emptying the closet. Soon the bed was covered in miscellaneous items accumulated during the cursed years: outdated books, mothball-smelling quilts, and enough boxes to build the coolest fort for her and Henry to hide in. Okay, the kid was a little too old for it but so was Emma and she just didn't care. Separating the loose piles of stuff into keep, donate, and garbage, she was finally down to just the boxes.
"What the fuck?!" Emma yelled, flinging the box across the room.
"Everything okay up there?" Mary Margaret called up.
"Uh. Y-yeah Mom! Everything's is fine, I just saw a spider. No biggie!" Emma stuttered.
Everything was not fine. Apparently, during the cursed years, her mother had decided to collect a pretty suspect porn collection. Emma tip-toed over to the corner, as if concerned it would disturb the contents of the box. Lifting the box onto the bed, Emma sifted through the items. Princesses Gone Wild. Ganged by the Dwarfs. Beauty and the Dildo. "This is so wrong on so many levels." Emma muttered as she emptied the box. At the bottom, she found a red, leather-bound journal. Worried it was her mother's version of fairytale smut, she tossed it onto the dresser to look at later. Emma was determined to expedite this twisted treasure hunt and find her a stiff drink.
Several hours later, Emma was laying in her bed, sipping her 4th Jack and Coke. The journal laid next to her, a menacing presence of unknown surrounding it. "Ehhh, fuck it. I mightaswell get it over with. Can't be worse than knowing my mom has a dwarf fetish." Emma slurred to herself and picked up the journal. With slightly blurred vision, she found and opened to the first page but was hit with a familiar scent instead of words. A mixture of cloves, spice, and something else? Apples? Emma closed her eyes and breathed deep, her buzz making the smell coming from the pages feel like an all-enveloping blanket. As she opened her eyes, she noticed small scribbles making their way onto the pages by themselves. "What the hell?" The words slowly began forming sentences, then paragraphs, and within a few moments there was an entire page written. Retrieving her reading glasses from the side table, she began to read.
"I truly do not understand the necessity of this exercise. I am perfectly capable of handling my magic on my own and without the use of this insufferable journal. But, I promised Henry that I would change and I plan to do just that. It pains me to see him get on the bus each day without me. Instead, I'm forced to watch Miss Swan take care of MY son. Henry is mine, I raised him. He's probably eating sugar for breakfast and going to bed late. Miss Swan thinks she can come to MY town, break MY curse, and then tries to take MY son. Regardless of how attractive she looks in that damn red leather jacket, she has no right. Though I'll never admit it aloud, I sometimes picture myself walking alongside Emma and Henry to his bus stop. As friends, of course… Friends that hold hands and steal kisses behind their son's back. Just friends. This journal entry has gone on far enough, I have actual work to finish. I think it's time to give Miss Swan some real work to do…"