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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 11/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

With every word from Levi's mouth, Erwin's face grew darker and darker.

"Fuck." He declared, as soon as Levi had finished. "Fuck," he repeated, rubbing his temples. He took a deep, heavy sigh, and when he blinked, the tense expression was miraculously gone, the usual look, full of determination and conviction, taking its place.

"So no sign of forced entry?” he asked, calm and collected and completely devoid of the previous frustration. “No sign of struggle? And no sign of Petra?"

"Yes, sir." Oluo confirmed with a frantic nod, which reminded Levi of a stupid toy dog Hange once put in his car.

Had the matter at hand been at least a little less grave, perhaps, he’d even crake a smile at the comparison. Hange definitely would have. Alas…

“And do we know who’s behind it?”

“No,” Levi replied. “Hange suspects one of Zeke’s man, but she also thinks some third party is involved.”

Erwin accepted his answer, slowly scratching his chin. “And where is Hange herself?"

“She went to talk to Zeke to ask if he knows something, and…" Levi faltered, not sure if he should share this information with Erwin. Hange was sure that Zeke was innocent, and Levi never doubted her, but…

"And?" Erwin prompted.

Fuck it, Levi decided. Perhaps, Erwin’s unbiased opinion was exactly what they needed.

"Oluo found Zeke's cigarette pack inside the apartment," he said, throwing it on Erwin's desk.

"It's not his," there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in his voice. Erwin didn’t even glance twice at the evidence presented to him. "Zeke would never be so careless. Someone's trying to sabotage him, and they are not very good at it."

“So you think it’s someone else?”

“Naturally.”

Erwin’s confidence eased a portion of his worries. If he and Hange were of the same mind, then it must be the truth. At least, he didn’t let Hange meet up with a potential culprit all by herself. Not that it gradually quelled his concern, but it was something…

“Zeke Yeager…” Oluo mumbled, biting his thumb. “Yeager, Yeager… I heard this name somewhere…”

“Huh?” Levi raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at him.

“Yeager!” he exclaimed, his eyes lightening up. “Of course! Yes, now it came back to me!”

“What came back?” Levi demanded, glaring at Oluo in annoyance. God, how he hated being kept in the dark…

Oluo didn’t respond, irritating Levi even more. Instead he reached Erwin’s desk in two short strides, pushing him aside. “May I, sir?”

“Be my guest,” Erwin made a welcoming gesture, pulling his chair back. “If you know something, then…”

“Could be just a coincidence,”Oluo muttered, as he opened the database on Erwin’s computer. “But…”

For a long moment nothing happened. The office was silent, except for the sounds of typing on a keyboard, and Oluo’s quiet murmurs.

Levi shared a look with Erwin. He shrugged helplessly, seeming just as bewildered by Oluo’s actions, as Levi himself felt.

“Aha!” he beamed, finally showing Erwin what he found. “Like I said, could be just a coincidence, but I came across name Yeager before. Here.”

“A family murdered in their own house,” Erwin began reading, his eyes quickly scanning the page. “Wife and husband found dead in their own bedroom by their fourteen year old son, who came back from a sleepover. The identity of a murderer remains unknown.”

“It was the first case I took as I started working,” Oluo confessed, scratching his neck. “That’s why it stuck with me. Don’t know if it has any connections to your Zeke…”

“The father of the family, Grisha Yeager,” Levi read the name from behind Erwin’s shoulder. “Zeke is his son. From the first marriage, but still… Maybe, he was murdered, because someone wanted to get back at Zeke.”

“And now that same someone wants to finish the job,” Erwin agreed. “The culprit was never found after all. It’s a solid theory.”

“Or as solid as we can get for now,” Levi nodded.

"It's different from other cases, though,” Erwin contemplated thoughtfully, his gaze turning distant, as he taped his finger against the desk.

"Other cases?" Oluo shuddered. "Are you talking about recent... Murder cases?" he paled, his lower lip trembled, and Levi started to regret bringing him here. They needed to keep their heads clear. Petra needed them to keep their heads clear. There was no time for worrying and panicking right now.

In Levi’s experience, that attitude could only lead to more tragedy.

"It's obviously different with Petra," Erwin said, his voice going an octave softer. Levi stared at him, almost gawking. Erwin wasn't the man to give empty promises. Either he was that optimistic about this whole ordeal, or... Levi preferred not to think about the other possibility.

"Levi?" Erwin turned to him. "What do you think?"

"I think Oluo is right, Petra was taken by someone close to Zeke. But either it was the same perpetrator from before or someone else, it remains to be unknown," he replied. "And I think we don't have any time to waste."

"Agreed," Erwin clenched his jaw, his brows furrowed. "I'll talk with Pixis and Nile, ask if they know anything or if they have any people they can spare... We need to start the search..."

"Sannes!" Oluo suddenly exclaimed, startling Erwin and Levi. "Sannes, we should check him first! We’ve planted a bug on him just yesterday!"

"Fuck," Levi groaned in frustration, feeling like the biggest and the most useless idiot in the world. He had completely forgotten about it.

"I didn't see him at work today," Erwin noted. "Perhaps, it's worth checking it out. Take care of it, Levi."

"Will do," he nodded. "Permission to go?"

"Report to me once you find anything," Erwin stood up. "I'll go to Pixis and Nile."

Levi nodded again, and left the office, his steps swift and heavy.

***

"Could it be our lead?" Oluo asked.

They've listened through every conversation that Sannes had that day and the day before. And only one of them, the one where he had agreed to a meeting with an unknown man, had raised Levi's suspicion.

"Not sure if we can call it a lead," he mumbled, biting his lip. There was no word about Petra and no mention of the actual location, but it was something they could work with. It was a starting point, at the very least. Much better than nothing. "But it's definitely a clue. Come on, we need to continue our investigation."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning we're going to break into Sannes' office and see if we can find something inside. Don't worry," he clasped Oluo's shoulder with just a little too much force. Oluo coughed, almost doubling over under Levi’s hard hand. "Nothing you hadn't done before."

***

“Zeke is a fool,” the man sneered, his voice full of disgust. “He’s not the man he was before. Ever since he took in that Zoe, he made mistake after mistake. It’s time to put an end to this. It’s time for someone else to take over his legacy. Our gang needs a new leader. Someone, who has as much potential as Zeke, but who doesn’t yet possess any of his flaws. Someone, who is cunning and ruthless. There is only one man who can do this," he finished, and even from afar Petra could see a shine of adoration in his eyes.

Sannes scoffed, rolling his eyes, not moved by the passionate speech at all. "And who is that?"

"No one can achieve the greatness Zeke once possessed. Except," the man smiled, and the sight of it made shivers run down Petra's spine.

"His own brother."

"You've gone mad," Sannes rolled his eyes, still unconvinced. "You've lost it completely, and now you want to drag me down with you. I refuse. Good luck getting arrested, but I’m out of here.”

“You’ll regret this, Sannes,” the man promised, his eyes flashing. “You’ll come begging for us to take you back in no time.”

“I really doubt that, boy,” Sannes sneered, his face showing nothing but disgust. “And if you’re going to actually proceed with your plan, then be ready to meet Ackerman. Believe me, it won’t be a pleasing experience. See you in prison,” he finished, and left, throwing the door shut.

As soon as Sannes had stormed out, the man with an eerie smile turned around to face her.

Instantly, Petra closed her eyes and lowered her head, but the man simply laughed.

"There is no need to pretend," he spoke, shortening the distance between them. "I know you've been awake for quite some time, detective Ral."

She looked up then, saying nothing and glaring at him beneath her bangs. Just the sight of that man left her breathless, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears, but she wouldn’t show him her fear. She was better than this. He may have had an ultimate upper hand over her, but she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.

"I think we've started off on a wrong foot," the man smiled, the shadow of a lightbulb above him making him look even creepier. "I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Floch, nice to meet you!"

With the same crazy smile on his lips, he reached out and patted her shoulder. Petra winced, unable to move away from the undesired touch.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, trying to hide the shaking in her voice. As discreetly as possible, she tried to loosen her restraints. In movies she watched with Erd, Gunter and Oluo, heroes always freed themselves so easily, the ropes being nothing more than a nuisance. But in reality, they didn't bulge an inch. Petra searched through her mind, trying to remember what characters from those movies did. Wiggle out of the restrains? Broke their wrists? Or was it applicable only for the handcuffs? Shit. She should have watched more movies like this, instead of melodramas and rom-coms. Shifting her attention back to the present, she stared up at her captor, still glaring at him defiantly.

"What do I want from you? The same thing I wanted from the others."

The same thing he wanted from the others? But the others were... dead. Petra suppressed a shiver.

"It's nothing personal, really,” he continued in the same careless manner. “All I need from you is to motivate your partner."

"Levi?" Petra gasped. "What it has to do with him?"

To her surprise, the man shrugged. "Nothing, really. In a way," he swept his hand across the room. "He's just a victim of circumstances. He's one of the best detectives in this city and he has a personal connection with Zeke. It'd be a shame not to use him."

"But why do you need him?" she pulled on the ropes, leaning closer towards the man and looking deep inside his eyes, trying to see right through him, trying to understand him. "Why can't you just kill Zeke and be done with it?"

The man tutted, shaking his head. "That's not what I—" there it was, that same pleased, creepy smile. "What we want to do. Taking Zeke's life would be too easy. We want to destroy it. But unfortunately," he continued in a voice of badly feigned sympathy. "You're not the main event here."

"Not the main event?" Petra echoed, confused. If it wasn't her, then....

"Not sure if you've met...” his eyes lightened up with something dark and dangerous. The smile on his face grew wider, more sinister. “But surely you've heard of one Hange Zoe?"

"Hah," a short chuckle escaped her lips. Very soon it turned into a full blown laughter. Petra would have clenched her sides if she wasn't tied up, she would have doubled over, hands on her knees and chest heaving, overcome with a sudden feat of giggles.

"What are you laughing at?" Floch inquired, the smile disappearing under a frown.

"You, of course," Petra answered, still breathless. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. To think that you can take on Hange Zoe..." of course, he had already gotten her, but Floch had taken her by surprise and she wasn't nearly as experienced and skilled as Hange. And even if they do somehow catch Hange... "Levi would never let you even get close to her. More than that," Petra raised her chin, a confident smirk pulling on her lips. "I'm sure he'll show up here so very soon. He'll save me and ruin your stupid plan. Then you'll be rotting in jail alongside your Zeke."

"We'll see about that," Floch promised through gritted teeth. "Wait a couple of hours, detective, and we'll see if your optimism would remain just as strong."

He gave her a furious look and then did a sharp turn, heading to the door.

“Enjoy your last hours. I’ll come to check up on you later.”

With that he had left, and Petra finally managed to breathe normally.

*** "Weren't you supposed to be good at this?" Levi dryly inquired. With a bored expression on his face, he was leaning against the wall, watching Oluo fiddle with a lock on the door to Sannes' office.

"I never said I was," Oluo grunted, wiping sweat from his forehead. His head darted from one side to other, checking if the hallway remained empty. "It's my first time breaking into someone's office, you know."

"Eh?" Levi frowned, confused. "Then how did you and Petra get in the other day?"

"I stole a key," Oluo huffed.

Levi rolled his eyes, pushing Oluo aside. "Let me handle it then. You go and stand on a lookout."

Oluo didn't need to be asked twice. He got his fair share of bullying from Levi today. With an annoyed but very quiet - he wasn’t so thrilled about receiving even more insults - sigh, he rose to his feet, going to do what Levi had requested of him. He didn’t even reach the end of a hallway, and Levi was calling out to him.

"Already?" his eyebrows went up. "You broke the lock so quickly? How?"

"Well," Levi shrugged and pushed the door open, sporting an almost smug expression. "Let's just say I wasn't always a law-abiding policeman."

"So cool..." Oluo whispered in reverence, as he followed Levi inside the office.

In Oluo's humble opinion and in comparison to a small cubicle he shared with Erd, Sannes' office was huge. A large desk, a wide bookshelf that took up most of the wall, a leather couch and a mini-fridge with a coffee machine and a microwave oven? If affiliating yourself with criminals meant you can have a workplace like this... Oluo wasn't that opposed to the idea anymore.

But they took Petra, he reminded himself. They were the bad guys, even if they were much richer and more successful than he could ever be. They certainly didn’t deserve any of it. And his job was to catch them.

"So what should be our starting point?" he asked Levi.

"You could start with telling me what the fuck you are doing inside my damn office."

With heart in his throat, Oluo whirled around. As his eyes met Sannes' dark and furious ones, Oluo gulped, slowly taking a step back.

He chanced a glance at Levi and was surprised to see that he didn't look as scared and panicked as Oluo himself felt.

Quite the contrary.

"Sannes." he snarled.

With wide eyes and mouth open in shock, Oluo watched how Levi manhandled Sannes, a man, who was almost twice his size. He pushed him to the wall, fisting hands into his shirt.

"Where is Petra, you scumbag?" he hissed into his face. "Where are you holding her?"

“Let go of me, you freak!” Sannes shouted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, but you do,” Levi’s voice dropped even lower, almost resembling a growl. “You know about everything – Zeke’s dealings, Petra’s kidnapping, Hange’s survival,” he pulled Sannes even closer. “So I repeat my question – where are you holding her?”

"I don't know!" Sannes wheezed out, already out of breath.

"Bullshit," Levi answered, his voice so dark and dangerous it made shivers run down Oluo's back. And he wasn’t the one Levi was talking to. He really didn’t envy Sannes right now. "You know it, and if you're not a complete idiot, you're going to tell me everything right fucking now."

Sannes looked down at him, his gaze calculating. "If I tell you, do you promise not to reveal my connection with Zeke?"

"No,” Levi answered coolly, shaking Sannes once more. “But you're going to tell me anyway."

Sannes closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. "Fine,” he said. “I'll tell you everything. Just let me go."

"Smart choice," Levi murmured and instantly took a step back.

Sannes sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. "He's keeping her at the docks,” he mumbled, his face aimed at the ground. “I'll send you the exact location."

"Good," Levi nodded, much calmer now. "And after you do that, go straight to Erwin. If I were you, I wouldn't make him wait. Perhaps, he'd be more merciful then. Although,” he added, sending Sannes one last glare. “I doubt he actually would."

Levi turned on his heels then, walking out of the office. Oluo stayed behind for a second longer, a pressing need to ask Sannes a question arising in him.

"Petra?" his voice broke on her name, but Oluo willed himself to stand strong, looking up at Sannes without an ounce of fear. "Is she alright?"

"Dragged and unconscious," Sannes replied, rubbing the spot where Levi had grabbed him. "But she's unharmed. For now."

For now. Those two words made his knees buckle. They needed to hurry. Petra's life was on the line.

***

With sweat dripping down her face and completely out of breath, Hange finally reached Zeke's hideout.

Panting like a chain-smoker and with her leg muscles burning, she climbed all four sets of stairs, cursing Zeke all the while. Why couldn't he put his office on the first floor? Or next to a police precinct? Would have made her life so much easier.

As expected, Zeke was inside his meeting room, smoking. The fat rings of smoke were flowing around the room, flying just below the ceiling before dissipating into nothingness. Hange narrowed her eyes, squinting at the cigarette in his fingers. Could the cigarette from Petra’s apartment really belong to him? Perhaps, they should have run some tests on it… No, Hange shook her head. Zeke was innocent - at least, in that regard.

She looked around the room, nodding at Pieck and Porco, who, as usual, were sitting next to their boss.

"Ah, my dear Hange!" sweeping the ash from his cigarette, Zeke raised his hands, opening them in a welcoming gesture. "What brings you here? Already missed us?" he winked and Hange scoffed.

"Missed your ugly face?” she rolled her eyes. “Not in a million years."

Zeke shook his head, his gaze filling with disappointment. "Detective Ackerman has a terrible influence on your sense of humor," he complained, his expression turning sourer.

"Whatever," Hange fell down on a chair next to him. "I came to ask you for help. Petra is missing."

"Petra?" Zeke frowned, looking genuinely confused. The lost look inside his eyes cemented Hange's conclusion that he wasn't the one involved in her kidnapping. Zeke was sleazy and unreliable, but he was also a very bad liar. Well, that meant they managed to rule out one possible suspect…

"Yes, Petra. Levi's partner."

"Ah, he found a new one already?" Zeke spread his lips into a wide, self-contained smirk. "Not very loyal, is he?"

More loyal than you will ever be, Hange wanted to say, but stopped herself. Now was not the time to start a pointless squabble.

"Do you know something or not?" she demanded from him.

"I don't," Zeke answered, putting a cigarette to his lips and exhaling the smoke right in Hange's face. He knew how much she hated it, asshole. She waved the smoke away, scowling fiercely. "But I do know one thing," he turned to Porco. "The time has come, start packing."

Without asking for clarification, Porco nodded, thrusted hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and hurriedly left.

Hange watched him go, stunned. Was Zeke planning something? What could it be? Why didn’t she know about it?

There was only one way to find out. She surveyed Zeke’s face carefully, trying to see his motives reflected there.

"Packing? To where? What the hell are you talking about, Zeke?"

"Don't worry about our destination," he patted her hand, looking so condensing Hange had to clench her fists to stop herself from punching the bastard. "You're going with us after all."

"Like hell I will!" Hange threw his hands off, glaring at Zeke. "And you can’t seriously expect me to follow you. What does all of it mean?"

Zeke shrugged, lightening up another cigarette and taking a long drag. "It's the grand finale, Zoe. The dramatic climax, the thrilling last act. And I was never the one for theatrics. So I'll leave the stage and go on my way."

"You promised to help," Hange grunted. She couldn't believe it, she actually trusted the bastard, and now he tries to escape? She wouldn't let him. "Or did you lie to us?"

"I wasn't lying," Zeke scoffed. "Like I said, I don't enjoy the drama. I simply changed my mind."

"So you won't honor your promise?"

Zeke rolled his eyes. "Zoe, please. I'm a criminal. The word honor was never in my vocabulary."

"Fine," Hange huffed, blowing hair out of her face. The attempt to awaken his consciousness failed. Maybe, she could appeal to his ego instead… "But someone is targeting you. Don't you want to know who it is?"

"Not particularly,” Zeke shook his head. “Since they went through all that trouble just to get me, I'd rather we never meet. Lord knows what they're going to do then, and, unlike you, detective, I know what self-preservation means."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave?"

Hange couldn’t believe it. She knew Zeke was a scumbag, but goddamn it. She didn’t expect him to be that untrustworthy.

"Of course, I’m not going to just leave," Zeke smiled. "I'll take you with me. To make sure that no one is going to follow us."

Hange snorted. "You're that delusional? I told you already, I'd rather die than go anywhere with you."

"Be it as you wish," he said. "Pieck," he lazily outstretched his hand to her. "Make our dear detective cooperate. Do with her what you want, but make sure she won’t get in our way."

Hange turned to Pieck, her heart skipping a beat. She held her breath and tensed her muscles, anticipating her first move. She could take Pieck in a fight, in theory. But in reality, she came unarmed, and Pieck always carried a gun. And a couple of knifes.

And Hange wasn't sure that her wits were much sharper.

There was a bit, the air in the room growing stiff. Hange swallowed, her one eye narrowed, as she watched Pieck. Maybe, if she makes the first move—

"No." Pieck said suddenly.

For a moment, there was silence. Hange sat there, dumbfounded, staring at Pieck and feeling utterly lost. She didn’t mishear? Did Pieck really—

Next to her, Zeke seemed to have the exact same trouble. He blinked a few times and then his expression changed, turning into a look of betrayal and fury.

"What did you just say?" he snarled, baring teeth at her.

"No," Pieck repeated, staring straight at him, not swayed by his outburst. "I won't touch Hange, and you, Zeke, will go with her and surrender to the police."

"What do you think—"

"Stop it, Zeke," Pieck sighed tiredly. "Own up to your shit and stop running away. Do you really not get it? If you do this right now, whether you'll kill Hange or take her with you, this—" she gestured around, her gaze on Zeke hard and disappointed. "This running and hiding will never end. If you touch a hair on her head, detective Ackerman will get you even from underneath the Earth. Accept it, Zeke," she stood up and squeezed his shoulder. "You've lost that battle the moment you started it. You simply picked up the wrong opponents."

With slow, elegant steps Pieck approached Hange and bent down to leave a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Goodbye, Hange," she murmured, tucking a hair behind her ear. "It's been fun."

In spite of herself, Hange smiled. Sarcastic, adorable Pieck always had such an effect on her. "Are you leaving already?" she asked, touching a place where Pieck's lips met her skin.

"Well," Pieck grinned. "Pock had started packing, right?"

"And where are you going?" Zeke wondered, his lips pressed in a line and hands crossed at his chest. He stubbornly refused to even glance at Pieck.

"A secret," she chirped, smiling cheerfully. "But I'll make sure to send a postcard. Hange, I'll send yours to detective Ackerman's address?” she winked, chuckling at the sight of red color on Hange’s cheek. “And, Zeke? You'll be staying at the state prison, right?"

"Oh fuck off, Pieck," he groaned. "Go away already."

Their eyes met for a second, and Zeke's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Try not to get caught, will you?"

"Roger that, chief!" Pieck saluted, kissed Zeke too and then headed to the entrance, gliding on the floor and humming under her breath.

"You two should talk," she advised Hange and Zeke, and then quietly closed the door.

As soon as Pieck was gone, Zeke dropped his head on his hands, sighing in frustration.

"How the fuck do you do it, Zoe?" he sent her a side-glance. "How the fuck do you manage to inspire that kind of loyalty in people?"

Hange shrugged, sitting back in a chair, and curled her lips in a crooked grin. "Try not being a complete jerk, perhaps?"

"Fuck off," he retorted, hiding his face again. "You'll send me to jail, right?"

"R-right," Hange sang. "And before that, you'll help us looking for Petra."

"And if I refuse?"

"Initially, I planned to be the one organizing your arrest. But I can give that honor to Levi..."

Zeke visibly shuddered.

"Fine," he looked up, fixing the glasses on his face and brushing the hair back from his forehead. "I'll help you. Now get the hell out of here."

Hange arched an eyebrow. "You're coming with me, you know that?"

"I'll come," he huffed. "I promise. For real this time," he added, when Hange just kept giving him an unimpressed look. "Just give me half an hour to get all of my possessions in order, would you? I don't know if I'll be coming back after all."

"Half an hour." Hange nodded, looking at him strictly. "If you don't show up in half an hour, I'm sending Levi to get you."

She would have stayed behind and monitored him, but time was of the essence. She promised Levi she'd back in two hours. And the watch was telling her it was almost an hour past that. She needed to get back, and quickly. Hurrying out of the building, Hange rushed to the precinct.

But in her haste to get back to Levi, she didn't see a swift shadow that followed right after her.

***

One way, then the other, back and forth, left and right, Levi paced around the room.

Seven. That was the amount of steps needed to get from one end of Erwin's office to the other.

Levi glanced out of the window, and then turned around, starting anew. He clenched and unclenched his fists, thinking if he should look at his phone again. Maybe, he missed a message? Didn't hear its ringing? Maybe, she had already replied to a dozen of his texts and calls?

"Levi," a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. "Levi, we can't wait any longer," again, Erwin's voice was so much gentler than usual, and that alone should have been enough for him to realize that he was being irrational. That, the eyes of a dozen other policemen, gathered in Erwin’s office, who looked at him with a mix of worry and sympathy.

"We have the location," Erwin reminded, bringing him back to present.

"I know."

"We have the team."

"I know."

"We have a plan."

"I know," Levi gritted through teeth. "But we do not have Hange!"

Frustrated, he turned away from Erwin. He took out his phone, holding it tightly.

Why didn't she call? Why didn't pick up the phone and answer his texts? Where the fuck was she? She promised to be back in two hours. Almost three passed and no sign of that messy, four-eyed brilliant weirdo. The knot in his stomach grew tighter with each passing second.

Logically, he knew Hange could be simply running late. She could be stuck in traffic or she could be busy trying to get some kind of useful information out of Zeke. But while Hange was never the one to care about such trite matters as punctuality and she could easily get absentminded and usually appeared to be scatterbrained and frivolous, she was so very different during the times like this. Times, when lives were on the line. Hange never let herself be so unfocused, that’s why Levi was so worried now. He was anxious, and he knew that feeling won't go away until he sets his eyes on Hange, alive, breathing and well. He just got her back, the thought of losing her… Levi cursed, checking the phone again.

"Levi..." Erwin sighed, patting his shoulder. "You know, we can't waste our time."

He knew that. Petra needed their help, needed him. He couldn't let her down, but still...

Hange, oh god, Hange. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.

"Perhaps, detective Zoe isn't going to come back," came a quiet murmur from the corner of the room.

Levi’s head whirled in that direction, and, in a flash, he was beside him. "What did you just say?" he demanded from Oluo, barely stopping himself from grabbing him just as forcefully as he had done with Sannes.

Oluo swallowed, a trail of sweat rolling down his face, but he stared back at Levi, raising his chin.

"She was working with an enemy for more than two years. Maybe, she was the one who kidnapped Petra."

Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He was not going to lose it right now. He was not. Not when Erwin - and a dozen other of his colleagues - were looking at him.

"Bozado," he began as calmly as he was able in that moment. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, sir!" he answered without a moment of hesitation.

"Good," Levi nodded. "You trust me. And I trust Hange. With my life. And if you are at least half as smart as you're trying to appear, you'll trust her too. If you're not ready to,” his gaze grew harder, enabling Oluo from turning away. “Then get the fuck out of my team. If you doubt Hange, you doubt me, and I can’t work like that, I have to trust my people. So what do you say – are you leaving or staying?"

"I'm... I'm staying with you, sir."

"Alright," Levi watched Oluo’s face for another second, his eyes narrowed. Would he follow his orders without question? It seemed like he would. He hoped so, at least. With a low, thoughtful hum, Levi turned to Erwin. "We can start the operation. Bozado will lead my team."

He pointedly ignored the shocked gasp from Oluo. The boy wasn’t nearly as experienced, wasn’t even a detective, but their mission was to get back Petra. And Levi believed Oluo wouldn’t let himself fuck it all up.

It's obvious he has feelings for her, Hange once told him. She was right that time, but then again – when she wasn’t?

"And you, Levi?" Erwin asked.

"Half an hour," he promised. "Half an hour, and I'll be at the location."

Hange swore to come back to him. This time, Levi won't let her broke that promise.

Closing the door behind himself, he hurried to Zeke. He prayed that Hange was alright. Zeke wouldn’t get out of this alive, if she weren’t.

***

The silence pressed onto her. The silence, the waiting for god knows what - it was all making Petra go slowly insane. She wanted to hear something, any sound would do at this point.

Or so she thought.

But then Floch came back, sauntering inside and still sporting the same deranged grin, and Petra realized that she preferred silence so much more than the low, out of tune humming mixed with the sound of him polishing the various knifes taken from a long table in front of him.

She squirmed, the ropes digging into her skin even more. It would leave bruises, she thought absentmindedly.

Bruises? She chided herself almost immediately. Who would care about bruises if they find her dead? She suppressed another shiver.

They won't find her dead, Petra tried to persuade herself. They won't, because so very soon Levi would be here, and he'll save her. Perhaps, detective Hange would be with him, maybe, Oluo too...

She had friends who cared about her. They won't let her be murdered. She just had to keep believing in them.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked Floch, trying to distract herself from the thousand of horrible what ifs.

Why haven’t you— no, she wouldn’t ask him that. She would remain optimistic.

“You’ll see very soon,” he told her enigmatically. “My friend is almost here.”

His friend? Did he mean Zeke’s brother? The one, who had planned it all? And what would happen, when he comes? Would he—

No, she stopped herself once again. She needed to hold onto that hope. She needed to stay strong.

The sound of footsteps somewhere above her startled Petra. Hearing them too, Floch started chuckling. He turned to Petra, pressing a finger to his lips.

“That’s my friend,” he whispered quietly, as though it was the biggest secret in the world. “And he brought someone with him.”

The next second, the door opened and a man – so young, probably in his early twenties – stumbled in. He was hobbling slightly, his hand pressed to a place just below his hairline. His face was a mess – split lip, bruised eye that already started to turn deep purple, bloodied nose and forehead.

“You didn’t tell me she was a fucking psycho,” he grumbled, glaring daggers at Floch. “I wouldn’t have a chance, if I wasn’t armed.”

“But?” Floch passed him a white cloth to wipe off the blood. “You’ve caught her, right?” his voice was full of hope, and his fingers were trembling in anticipation.

“She’s in my car, dragged out of her mind. Help me get her here.”

“With pleasure,” Floch turned to Petra, winking. “You’ll have company so very soon, detective. I hope you’re excited! I am!”

He didn’t stop to hear her response, following after his friend and leaving her alone once again.

It was possibly her last chance, she realized. Petra desperately pulled on the ropes, trying to get away, but to no avail. She couldn’t move an inch, and it seemed like the more she struggled, the tighter her bindings became.

Not enough time passed, before Floch had returned, dragging a body inside. His friend put the chair, right next to Petra, and Floch dropped the body there.

No, not just some body, Petra realized. Fear crippled inside her, seizing her heart in its merciless hold.

Not just some body, Hange Zoe’s body.

Her head was bowed, but even from where she was sitting, in a poorly lit room, Petra could see blood dripping down her cheek and neck.

So much blood, she thought. She was breathing, albeit faintly. But she wasn’t waking up.

Her heart stopped, as Petra realized another thing – if Hange was there, no one was looking for her. And if no one was looking… then Hange and she… they would most probably… not be found.

At least, not alive, or so it seemed.

Petra tried to hold onto that sliver of hope, but with Hange Zoe’s bloodied face in her line of sight, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to.

#/gasps/ update?? to that fic????#levihan #also yeah pieck and porco had simply turned into bonnie and clyde they're legends like that

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 21 - Losing My Religion

Masterlist; Chapter 20

Summary: After Tallinn, you use the opportunity and visit Neil’s apartment. What you find there, only increases the confusion, just as the pieces are set for the endgame.

Warnings: Swearing; angst.

Author’s Notes: This was a challenge, and it’s a little different too, a breather before the real fun begins... or something. After this we move onto the icebreaker... (and things). I’ll shut up now, hope you’ll enjoy and all kind of feedback are greatly welcomed!

The clean up after TP’s little accident on the highway was difficult. And tiring. By the time you have dealt with the mess and could call it a day, you wanted nothing but to sleep. And also disappear from the face of the Earth. That second thing was rather tricky to achieve. Unfortunately. You had to settle for the slightly awkward space given by the rest of the team and the fact that you were bound to return to London the next day. That was something. Even if it meant having to debate whether those damned keys were to be used.

The journey back was uneventful. Only Wheeler seemed capable of talking to you without looking as though she has been trapped in some metaphorical web of ineptitude that the others got caught in. That was alright. At least she knew how that conversation in the container went. Her company was good enough to keep you from going insane for the time being.

The moment the car arrived at the London quarters, you practically bolted out through the door. Eager to finally have your own space to reflect, cry, and try to move on after the unimaginable. But it was not exactly meant to be given…

“Y/N, wait!” Ives’ voice rung out through the reception hall as you skidded down the corridor.

Crap.

“Yeah?” cautiously, you stopped in your tracks, facing the squad leader.

Making the mistake of glancing at the reception desk, you met Anna’s watchful gaze. Of course. Even though you knew she had no clue about anything that transpired between you and Neil, it still felt like a painful reminder.

“I…uh...” the hesitation in Ives’ voice made you frown, “I just got this, and I’m not sure…” he passed you his phone with a strange expression on his face.

A text from TP. Just like the ones you received before. Right… This one had a familiarly succinct form: “Invert for eight days with the army from tomorrow. Then get to Trondheim, awaiting further instructions”

“Is this from him?” you looked up to see the blue eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“Yeah, it must be” you nodded and handed him back the phone.

At that exact moment, you got a text as well. Hurriedly you took out the device and read the message:

“Invert along with Ives and the rest”.

Short and simple. Yet not at all. Without a word, you showed your companion the text message and stifled a heavy sigh. Inversion. Eight days. Trondheim. That most likely confirmed your worst fears. The end of it all was near, and you were needed there. You, Neil, and everyone else still had their parts to play in the most important of showdowns.

“So, I guess we’re going back” you could feel Ives’ inquisitive stare on you “Just like they are” he added, awaiting a response.

Meeting Neil after those eight upcoming days sounded like a nightmare. Because a week was never enough to fall out of love. Or to even attempt it. You were a lost cause.

“…yep” nodding halfheartedly, you could feel another weight settle on your shoulders.

“Excited?” the intensity of Ives’ look convinced you towards his intentions.

Evidently, he tried to get a clue towards your state, probably assessing whether you could endanger the mission in any way. Despite everything, you were a professional. A Tenet agent. That had to come before any personal issues you might have had. Forcing a smile, you met his gaze with sincerity.

“Not really” a shrug completed the response.

But it was enough as he grinned back and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Have today off and be ready tomorrow morning,” he ordered with a feigned sternness.

“Aye aye, sir” you saluted, enjoying the laugh it prompted.

Maybe not everything was utterly shit.

“Your edge is still intact, I see,” he commented once the laughter died down.

“At least something is then” you grimaced slightly and walked off with a wave.

A day off. What could one possibly do with something like that after everything? The set of keys in your pocket felt heavy for something that small. And insignificant (in theory).

*** It took you one hour of staring at the wall, a thirty-minute-long shower, and two coffees to decide to make use of the keys. After all, what was the harm? It was a way of spending the idle hours. And maybe to understand him a little better. Even if it was too late to save anything. You wanted to know him. To know his mind and heart. You dug out the note with the address Ives gave you and typed it into the maps app. Your hands were shaking the whole journey. Even though it was not far, it turned out to be challenging. Often you were catching yourself glancing at the phone, expecting him to call or text as he always did. But then you remembered, making the nerves come to the surface again. You wondered whether it was because of the absolute wreckage your relationship became or because you were unable to contact him in any way. Walking the streets leading to Neil’s apartment, you realised that it was probably both. You missed him. Simple as that. And equally complicated at the same time.

Google maps led you to an old docking space transformed into posh loft spaces in two store buildings of dark red brick. The residential area was completed with a large parking lot (full of rather good cars), making the first question of the day pop into your head: Did Neil have a private car? Something that unimportant yet entirely mundane only made you realise how little you knew of his life. But this was exactly why you came here. The second thought was something you always knew yet never took time to ponder on: the fact that he undeniably had money. It did not matter, of course. Just another fact that could as a trigger for the intrusive ideas to appear.

Ignoring the spiraling thoughts, you made your way to the indicated building, keying in the code at the door and following the stairs to the second floor. The apartment door no 4 looked like any other you have passed on the way. Turning the key in the lock, you took a deep breath, gathering courage for god knows what. Perhaps just being alone with everything that had to do with Neil… The door opened soundlessly. Faint daylight from the corridor fell onto the furniture and objects gathered in the hall, helping your eyes adjust to the darkness. You closed the door and locked it. The least you could have wanted was for someone to break in on your watch. Now that would have made him hate you. If he didn’t already, that is. Taking off the shoes, you scanned the hall. Hooks with various jackets and coats on the wall. Including a slightly weathered leather one that perked your interest. With fingers ghosting the material, you were unable to block the images of Neil wearing it. That was enough to make you blush and curse out loud. That won’t help with getting over him. As though that was even possible.

Next, your eyes landed on the shoes rack in the corner showing off Neil’s questionable taste in footwear. You grimaced when spotting another pair of brogues (that would have to go… if there was any future for you) and then smiled involuntarily at something as casual as old converse on the top shelf of the rack. So, he could dress more… normally. Interesting.

The rest of the space was filled with a large mirror and a cupboard full of random objects such as spare lightbulbs, shoe care products, and cleaning supplies. On top of that cupboard, there was a succulent (practical, you had to admit), a desk calendar, and a small notepad filled with Neil’s writing. The contents ranged from shopping lists to quantum physics, making you grin fondly when looking through the pages. The latest entry was written down in haste and barely eligible. What you deciphered made your heart stumble for the first time that day. It seemed like Neil was planning to invite you over after Tallinn, prepare dinner, and apparently do all that ‘he wanted to for a while’. Brilliant. The notepad fell from your hands as the implications dawned on you. He wanted to set everything straight, to talk and potentially tell you important things… But now, it did not matter. There was no post-Estonia. Just you alone in his cold, darkened apartment, full of doubts, regrets, and worries.

Shivering from both the chill and the anxiety, you ventured into the living room. It was an open space with a large leather sofa, TV, record player with shelves full of albums and vinyls. There were also bookcases filled to the brim and a dining table for four. Once your gaze fell onto the black piano in the corner, you did a double-take. Obviously, Neil was musically talented. All those times when he has been desperate to annoy you by singing various corny love songs in public were an indisputable example. A moment like that from Tallinn flashed before your eyes…

You and Neil sat in a restaurant on one of the ‘dates’ you had managed to fit into the schedule before TP arrived in Estonia. Cozied up in the corner on a comfortable sofa, you felt perfectly at peace. Instead of taking the seat opposite, Neil got as close as it was possible without raising eyebrows of the fine clientele. You were chatting about everything and nothing, occasionally taking sips of the coffees and letting your hands rest on each other’s knees. Other times they would be interlocked on the table between the plates, showing to the world that this was no platonic meetup. Using the natural break in the conversation, you finished the remains of your latte and watched as Neil focused on the radio somewhere in the background. By this point, you should have known better, but still, the second he started singing took you by surprise.

‘Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy’

His gaze settled on you without that mercy, awaiting a response. His lips curled into a deadly smirk, making the matters worse. For a moment, you wanted to ignore him, to deny him the satisfaction. But the way he stared, enunciating the song lyrics with precision and aiming them at you, triggered the familiar desire to stake your claim. To make him (and everyone else) understand that he was yours. Especially with a voice that beautiful and eyes that looked at you with boundless affection.

‘Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me’

It was the cheesy growl at the end of that stanza that did it. Combined with the huskiness of Neil’s voice and his hand appearing on your thigh underneath the table, it was enough to convince you to shut him up the best way you knew. You leaned in, placing your palm on the inside of his thigh, just close enough to remind him. Capturing his lips in a kiss, you did not have to wait long for Neil to invite you closer. You began the intimate dance, getting lost in the moment entirely. With him being in public did not matter. Especially not when he was giving you everything he could on a silver plate. Those days every kiss threatened to evolve into a full make-out session as you tried to get ever closer to him. That is why when you heard an awkward cough followed by “Miss, Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave” you could only start laughing. That was two days before your walk, which ended in the alley. The rest was history.

Shaking your head slightly, you let go of the memory. Has it gotten even colder? Shivering, you spotted a sweater draped on the side of the sofa. Crossing the space, you glanced at the instrument that caught your attention. A simple black Kawai piano with a Chopin music score opened on the fallboard and the stool underneath. If there even was a future, you wanted to hear him play something. You could almost picture it. Those long, elegant fingers on the black and white keys, hitting every note with perfection and the flourish he applied to every single task. His gaze focused. Golden hair falling into his eyes carelessly. Lips parted, tongue poking out in concentration. He was bound to be a sight as usual.

Ignoring the waking up flutters that always accompanied every thought about Neil, you picked up the sweater. It was the colour of dark red wine, simple and yet sophisticated in its simplicity. Cashmere. He really is posh. Giving in to the sudden whimsy, you breathed in the smell. That was a mistake. The moment Neil’s essence overwhelmed your senses, you felt a surge of feelings. The musky scent, the hints of bergamot and lavender that always brought comfort. Before you could second guess everything, you put the sweater on, letting the smell envelope you like his hugs always did. It was another thing that you missed. The ability to rest within his strong embrace, safe and wanted. The feeling of his arms cradling you with care. Without the solidity beneath your hands, it was hard to remember how it felt. The sweater had to do. You rolled up the sleeves and approached the large window, drawing back the curtains to see the view and let in light. The sight certainly was not disappointing with the lookout on the Thames and the docking ships. The area looked peaceful, like the place you could want to go out on walks and spend the rest of your life… No, stop. That was a dangerous line of thinking. After all, you only came here to satisfy the curiosity. And because you could, with nothing left to lose. Well, maybe apart from your sanity.

With the day shedding some light onto the furniture and objects in the room, you could more closely assess the type of person Neil was. The décor was rather posh (nothing surprising there) with leather, dark wood, and refined fabrics gracing the space. But upon a closer look, you could see the hints of Neil’s personality shining through the bounds of the stereotypes. It was visible in the chaos of the little details. Billy Idol album discarded on the CD player making you smile. The dying plants on the windowsill. The opened book on the coffee table right next to a bar of chocolate and some bullets. What even…

Looking around the space, you could easily picture him there. It was like entering a museum of Neil’s life and heart, and you were just a mere visitor. A trespasser even though you had the keys. Lost in the thoughts, you approached the bookshelves, looking over the titles. Young and Freedman’s University Physics with Modern Physics with a worn-out spine and a library stamp on the title page (a theft?). Griffith’s Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with scribbles on the margins, making your head hurt. More Quantum Mechanics but only getting increasingly complex. Spacetime and Geometry. In between the textbooks, there were classics of English and American literature, proving your theory that Neil knew the canon well. All those quotations had to come from somewhere… You looked over the further titles relating to the nuclear area of Physics and relativity of time, only to be thrown out of the moment when your eyes landed on a photograph in a wooden frame. A grinning young man with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair sat on the bench in the park. Alex. Picking up the photo, you took a closer look, feeling inexplicable heaviness in your chest. He looked just like Neil described him – an essence of goodness and understanding. The lump in our throat was strange. He still loved Alex that was a fact and something you took for granted. For a second, you wondered whether you could ever be half that important to him. But that was selfish. And wrong.

Swallowing hard, you put down the frame, focusing on another one nearby. In that photo, you recognized everyone. Ives with slightly longer hair grinning widely, next to him Wheeler with her practical bun and amused eyes, TP relaxed like always when in the company of friends. And then… You would recognize those eyes and sharp jaw anywhere, but… He’s not naturally blonde? You stared at the man who was undoubtedly Neil but with light brown hair, just as messy as usual. Interesting. You did suspect he dyed the hair but still having confirmation was unexpected. Staring a little longer at the photo, you already knew that it did not matter. He was a work of art, full stop. The rest of the photos depicted the Tenet crew, apart from the one you assumed was a family snapshot from years ago. Two happy boys with mundane looking parents and a Labrador retriever (Charlie!). Upon a closer look, you could tell that Neil got his blue eyes after his mother and the smile after his father. It was an interesting discovery. Other objects littering the shelves included postcards, trinkets from travels, and a strange collection of obscure coins. Also, more notebooks with Neil’s equations and theories and music scores. There was no order, just fate, and fancy. Just like him.

Wandering into the kitchen, running your fingertips over various instruments and surfaces, you wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the apartment. So far, the new information was almost overwhelming. But also fascinating in the fact that you already felt like you knew him better. Glancing at the fridge in passing, you froze. Among the cheap promotional magnets and old shopping notes attached to it, there was a rather familiar writing visible. A note you made Anna pass to him many weeks ago. “I’ll be at the shooting range. Meet you for dinner after 5” signed with your initials for practicality. Why has he kept it? It did not make sense. You forgot about the existence of something that inconsequential, yet here it was. Kept in place with a blaring orange magnet from Sainsbury’s. Suddenly feeling a little faint with the implications of the moment, you poured tap water into the glass and sat down on the stool by the kitchen island. You could still remember Anna’s offended stare when you gave her the note with the instruction to pass it to Neil later. That memory triggered another one, much more recent…

In the days leading up to Tallinn, you went out with Neil for a lunch and walk under the guise of planning the logistics of your journey. Sure, there was some planning being done over the tea and sandwiches. But there was also a lot of hand-holding, kissing, and gazing shamelessly. It was during those days, and then the idle hours in the safe house, that you have allowed yourself to love him. The feelings were there for months (most likely), but only after Oslo and the candid conversations in your room, you felt more at ease with them. So far, that PDA was not all that terrifying. And so, when you came back to the London quarters that afternoon, your fingers intertwined, you only realised how it looked like from the outside when Neil tugged you in the direction of Anna’s desk.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, hoping the woman was too busy to see you.

“I told you, need to get that ID sorted,” he explained, matching your conspiratorial tone, completely oblivious to your struggles.

“Yeah, but…” you raised your joined hands as if to show him the issue.

Neil grinned, waving his free hand dismissively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like that’s against the rules” ending the sentence, he took the final step separating you from the desk.

Great. Plastering on the most pleasant of smiles, you met Anna’s accusatory glare. You could not blame her.

“Anna, hi” Neil’s bright grin got met with a cold face of stone.

You vividly remembered that first day at Tenet, when you were filling in the paperwork, observing him flirt with the woman behind the desk. Back then, you were baffled by her reaction, the fluttering of eyelashes and lovesick smiles. Now you wondered how you got to that point and why you were seemingly luckier than she could ever be.

“Yes?”

“My ID is expiring soon. Was wondering if you could give me the form for the new one?” Neil’s chirpy tone made you hide a smile by looking at the floor “I want to get this sorted for after we’re back” he added, with that hopeful gaze barely anyone could ever say no to.

Anna was not any different.

“Naturally,” she spared you a final spiteful look before turning around to use the computer.

Glancing around the empty lobby, you hoped to survive the rest of the encounter without any additional awkwardness. But Neil had other plans. He stepped in closer, nose brushing over your ear, tearing down any illusions about the nature of your relationship. You stifled a sigh when his lips placed a small kiss over your temple.

“Shall we go to yours after this?” the whisper complemented with a ghost of his fingers on the side of your neck made you shiver.

“Maybe…” you cast a wary glance at Anna, but her back was turned.

Thankfully.

“I thought we could resume the planning…” upon the suggestive tone, you turned to meet his gaze.

Surely enough, the playful sparks were there. And the smirk too. Of course. Planning, in this case, most likely meant more cuddling… and potentially kissing. His hands getting accustomed to your body, leaving countless promises for the future. The thoughts alone made you blush. Before Neil could get any closer, Anna’s voice interrupted the moment:

“Here’s your form,” nothing but ice and fury.

So, she must have noticed…

“Thanks” the polite nod made you snicker.

During the next few terribly long minutes, you did your best to avoid looking at the other woman. Or at Neil. Your gaze roamed over the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Reading the same fire evacuation instructions for the fifth time, you felt a gentle touch on your arm:

“Can I put down your details as my emergency contact?” you looked up straight into those inquisitive blue eyes “I’ve had Ives the last two years, but I think you’re a more accurate option these days,” he explained as though it was obvious.

Emergency contact? You always assumed those were for best friends and spouses. You were not sure which fitted the criteria.

“How so?” blurting out the only viable question, you met his perplexed gaze.

“… because I’m with you and not with him” the bluntness of the reply made your heart stumble.

“Right”

Of course, you agreed. As a ‘thank you’ that afternoon, Neil kissed you until there was barely any breath left for either of you. Now you missed the feeling of being that desired.

And yet, that stupid note was right there, in your eyes a bright red spot that you could not ignore. Because surely, he must have cared at some point? You finished the remains of water and washed the glass. Then, just for the sake of a distraction, you went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing surprising. Appliances that looked barely used. Canned food every Brit would be expected to have. The amounts of frozen meals in the lower fridge compartments confirmed another thesis - Neil did not like cooking. That was fair not everyone could be Jamie Oliver. Not that you would prefer him. Certainly not. Shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the thoughts, you opened another cabinet. Wine and glasses, triggering the memory from your date night in Oslo. The way Neil tried to emulate his swank further by pretending to be a sommelier, making you laugh with his fake French accent and sparse knowledge. Upon the efforts to name something else than tannins (that Sauvignon Blanc had little of), you stepped in, shutting him up with a fingertip tracing the outline of his lips, collecting a stray droplet of wine. And then licking your finger clean, much to his shock. The strange snapshot from one of the most eventful nights in your life was a good cue to leave the kitchen and trod down the corridor.

You stepped into the bathroom, curiously glancing at the contents of the cupboards and around the sink. Nothing remarkable. Giving in to the temptation, you sprayed the cologne he used on your wrist and inhaled deeply. Closing the bathroom door, your eyes landed on the room at the end of the corridor. Neil’s bedroom. Involuntarily, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Bedrooms were always a sacred space. The most private of places in the house. The stage set for life’s crucial events. Love, life, and tragedy all began to play out (and end) in there. If there was a room closest to the heart of the owner, it would be the bedroom and its contents. With a shaky hand, you pressed down the handle and opened the door. The interior was almost too mundane. The bed with dark grey covers and decorative pillows. Some artworks on the walls and drawn curtains, forcing you to turn on the ceiling lamp. A small bedside table with a night light and books. A walk-in closet with the sliding doors partly opened. That was what drew you in first, crossing the space you peered inside. Only to be overwhelmed with that Neil smell that made sure to make your heart rate pick up. Gently, you ran your fingers over the suit jackets and sweaters hanged on the rails. He had a multitude of those, in different colours. Eyeing a suit in dark blue, you could imagine how it would bring out his eyes. There were a few sweaters in different shades of green, confirming the suspicions that he liked the colour. Further along, you found a drawer with ties of various patterns, making you grin at one olive green with Labradors on it. Now that was a classic Neil accessory.

Just when you were about to end the ‘snooping’ your gaze landed on a more casual part of the wardrobe. Jeans folded on the shelves, t-shirts, and polos. Even a jean jacket somewhere in the back. In the drawer, you found socks with questionable patterns, only increasing the fondness you felt for the owner of such an eclectic wardrobe. And then you made the mistake of letting your curiosity get ahead of you. Another drawer. Underwear. Your face got warm as you slammed it shut. Enough. Thinking about that could lead to the dangerous territory you would rather not venture out to. At least not when alone in his apartment, overwhelmed with memories and feelings. There would be time for this too later… Hopefully.

Sliding the doors shut, you took in the room again. The pile of books on the bedside table caught your attention. Gingerly, you sat down on the bed, doing your best not to think about the specifics of that moment. You, alone in his bedroom. This was certainly not how you expected to end up in there for the first time. But that too was beyond the point. Sighing, you picked up the stack of books only to drop them onto the covers with hands shaking. You would recognize the cover everywhere. Your favourite book. The exact copy you had last seen in Oslo when you gave it to Neil. That memory was rather unforgettable…

Hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for Mahir and TP to come back from a small errand, you did your best to ignore Neil’s piercing gaze from across space. That was the day after your careless dancing and that evening’s developments when he asked you out. Just before the mission. And Neil was staring, shamelessly so. It was getting on your nerves.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” putting down the itinerary, you broke the silence and faced him.

The satisfied smile was enough to make you groan. He knew exactly what he was doing, as though waiting for the moment to strike when you were alone.

“Actually not, no” the grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly “Plus you’re quite the sight. As usual” propping his chin on his hand, he kept on gazing.

The bastard was impossible.

“Jesus…” sighing, you rummaged in the bag at your feet “Do you want a book or something?” you took out a worn-out paperback “Because all that staring makes me want to…” trailing off, you met his inquisitive glare.

Want to kiss him. For starters. But he need not know that.

“What? Tell me” Neil spread his legs casually, leaning back in the armchair. An object of pure poise. And the challenge, aimed at you only. That was Neil at the top of his game, sure of what he wanted and how to get it. But you were not going to give it to him easily.

“Better not” the slight shock in his eyes gave you confidence “If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that your ego is big enough” offering him a sly smirk, you took a sip of the water.

When you looked up again, Neil was staring at you with an exaggerated pained expression on his face.

“I’m wounded” he put the hand over his heart like the drama queen that he was.

Scoffing, you laughed at the spectacle. Two could play the game.

“Good,” the offended whine only increased the satisfaction “So do you want that book?” you picked up the paperback, showing it to him “I’ve got my favourite one with me. Could kill some time”

“Yes, please” he got up and crossed the room, taking the book from you “I’ll have a chance to see what’s in that head of yours” Neil leaned down to your level and kissed you on the forehead “Apart from the desire for me, of course” he added, once he moved out of your reach once again.

Fucking hell.

“Neil”

At least there were some fun memories to come back to, you thought, looking through the copy you borrowed Neil. Then you noticed another thing. Under your book, there was another one of the same title. Brand new. Pages filled with Neil’s scribbles on the margins and underlined passages, highlighting the exact same quotations that made this book become your favourite. My god. The realization hit you with a gasp and a shiver. He read it. And not only that, but he also tried to understand you through something you held so dear. Reading the notes he made, you knew he was listening to every word you said. No matter the moment, the stage of your ‘relationship’, evidently, he cared enough to be interested in your thoughts and feelings. You were holding the proof in your hands. In some margin notes, Neil even referred to you using your initials, pointing out why it could resonate with you so much. The more you read, the more it felt like you have encountered his diary, in some form. That would be it when it comes to getting over. Putting down the books, your head was spinning. Too much.

You needed food. And sleep. It was at that moment that you decided to stay. It got late enough to make the journey back inconvenient. And everything was right here. Feeling like Goldilocks personified, you made use of Neil’s frozen food assortment and put on the music. Once you got over the initial shock of the afternoon, it was almost too easy to pretend that Tallinn never happened. That you were still alright. That he still potentially loved you. With the somewhat soothing sounds of Billy Idol and The Darkness, you went over Neil’s notebooks with equations. You understood nothing but the possibility to read his notes and theories was as comforting as it could get. Then, feeling your eyelids get heavy, you cleaned up and moved to the bedroom. Lying down in Neil’s bed felt like sacrilege. But the moment your head rested on the pillow and you inhaled the scent, it was all excused. At least in your eyes. Giving in to the foolish daydreams, you could almost imagine him next to you. The warmth and comfort the cuddles always provided. But you were alone, still wearing that sweater that smelled too good to be given up. It had to be enough. You fell asleep thinking about those damned blue eyes and the man that took the ownership of your heart for good.

*** Upon waking up in the cold apartment the next morning, you wanted nothing but to leave as soon as possible. In the daylight, with dreams of happiness haunting every corner of your mind, the feeling of loneliness was more persistent. You made sure to get rid of any signs of your intrusion, cleaned the kitchen, and made the bed. The only keepsake you could not deny yourself was the cashmere sweater that you stuffed into the bag. Even if he would not want anything to do with you, you could give it back along with the keys. Surely he would understand… right? After everything that you found in his flat, nothing seemed certain anymore.

You made it back to the HQs with just enough time to shower and pack for the next week of sitting in the inversion chambers in the sealed off part of the complex. That did not sound good as it meant more time with too many people in the cramped quarters. You had enough of that at this point. But then that was the prize of getting the most incredible of jobs. That and getting your heart broken. Again.

You joined the rest of the army by the larger turnstile, used purely for long-term inversion, instead of training. Accepting friendly nods from both Ives and Wheeler, you took your place in the queue. No one knew exactly what the purpose of this was. Just that you were supposed to go back eight days and then travel to the Norwegian coastline, awaiting instructions. The intuition that was rarely wrong told you that you were in the endgame from this point onwards.

And so, the next week was restricted to trying not to lose your sanity locked within the four walls. The only escape from the small room was the kitchen (always full of people that wanted to know too much), bathroom (that always had lines of people waiting by the door), and the small courtyard, where you could not step out without the oxygen tank and a mask. Overall, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. Especially when most days you wanted to curl up in bed and contemplate the mess that your life became. And to marinate in pain that became a constant companion. The sweater could only help so much. Accompanied with nerves and worry, you felt objectively shit and did everything to preserve the solitude. That is how you found yourself in the small kitchen at 2 am, eating toasties and drinking tea. Earlier the compound was too busy, and you preferred starving than facing the others. Only with everyone asleep, you could catch up on the meals missed. Well, almost everyone…

“How are you doing?” a voice interrupted your brooding.

You turned in the seat only to see Wheeler enter the room with a small smile on her face. Her you could tolerate, as an exemption.

“Bad” the candid answer seemed only appropriate “But I don’t mind the company, so please… stay” you added upon her hesitation.

She just nodded and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The silence stretched, but for once, it was rather pleasant. Finally, she finished the task and took the seat opposite you, giving you a quick once-over. You knew what she saw. Tangled hair, reddened eyes from lack of sleep, and hours of tears. The sweater that became the only comfort in those early morning moments when nothing seemed real and yet everything was too much.

“Is the sweater his?” she asked plainly, and you could only nod.

At this stage, surely, nothing was bound to surprise her.

“Yeah… Maybe it’s silly, but I took it from his place just to have something… tangible” you explained, consciously running your fingers over the material. Instead of judgement, you got a smile in return.

“No, I understand” Wheeler took a sip from the mug before asking, “Did the apartment give you any answers?”

You have not shared the story with anyone, unable to process it all even in the quiet of your mind. But maybe this was a chance to let it out…

“Mostly whiplash,” you let out a bitter laugh “It’s like… he cares… or cared,” you stumbled over the tense “But then in Tallinn after the shoot-out, he just closed off completely, and I don’t know why” raising your hands in defeat, you planted on your face on the table.

Anything goes. After a moment of utter frustration, you met Wheeler’s inquisitive eyes again. She did not seem bothered by your antics. Just a little concerned by the picture you were painting.

“Maybe it’s trauma” the seriousness of her expression made you think.

You did consider that option. But even knowing what happened with Alex, his reaction seemed too violent. You were alive, and yet he was trying to push you away. Plus, that way of thinking implied something else. Something you did not dare consider.

“That would mean he… loved me” getting the words out was a challenge “And I don’t think he does” you stared at the table, giving in to the thoughts once again “Whatever is going to happen now, I think I need space. Some distance. Trying to get over this won’t work otherwise”

Formulating the feelings that were overwhelming your heart and mind felt somehow relieving. Even if the prospects were anything but good.

“Is that what you want? To let him go?” the straightforward attitude of your companion was helpful.

“I don’t know,” sighing, you met her gaze, “I want… him, but if he doesn’t feel the same then…” with reddened cheeks, you let the sentence trail off.

She would understand, you were sure of that. And, if the slightly suspicious look in Wheeler’s eyes was anything to go by, she had her ideas about the topic.

“You should probably try talking to him again” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Last time that ended terribly,” you replied, arching your eyebrows, begging her to remember how bad that container conversation went.

“I know,” Wheeler patted your shoulder reassuringly, “But I also know that sometimes Neil needs a proper kick in the ass before he sees what’s right in front of him” she got up and went to the sink, picking up both of your dishes.

With the soothing soundtrack of the washing, you could feel almost sleepy. If it was not for that never-ending chatter of your thoughts.

“If you say so…” you murmured when she turned the tap off.

“Go to sleep. It’s just two days more of this torture” giving you a final smile, Wheeler left the kitchen.

You could survive two days. After that? Who knows. But it had to be alright.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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a-blue-secret · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER XXI

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XX | Chapter XXI | Chapter XXII

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: a few swear words

WORD COUNT: 4.8k+

AN: A lot happens in this chapter, and if you aren't quite sure about something then please, please feel free to ask me! I'll be more than happy to clear up any queries you have :)

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

“I’ll send these to the goldsmiths, then,” Taehyun said as they walked back through the palace after their meeting with Yoongi. He rolled up the blueprints more firmly, holding them securely in his hands.

Beomgyu nodded. “I think it’s cool how the blueprints of the chandeliers still exist,” he said. “Also the tiny Latin engravings are a really amazing touch.”

“I know right?” Taehyun agreed. They rounded a corner, and Taehyun slowed down outside his chambers. “We can come up with some of our own words to engrave this time around. I’ll talk to Soobin on how to translate it, if you want.”

“That’d be nice.” Beomgyu stopped in front of Taehyun, rocking on his heels. “I guess this is where we part, right?” He inclined his head grandly and, looking around quickly, gave Taehyun a small peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, love.”

Taehyun’s ears flushed as he watched Beomgyu walk away. “Remember to sleep properly tonight!” he called, and Beomgyu turned around and gave him a thumbs up, walking backwards.

“You too!” he called back, a grin on his face.

Taehyun waved to Beomgyu one last time, before disappearing into his chambers.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The next morning, Taehyun had been on his way to Yeonjun’s room to give Hueningkai back the marble when he was stopped by Chan. As soon as he saw Chan, he felt that something was decidedly off about the guard’s manner. He was still stoic and emotionless, but something felt… different.

“His Greatness has requested your presence in his chambers,” the guard said, in the typical, stony guard tone.

Taehyun nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. Come on, let’s go.”

The two of them walked through the hallways, and the strange aura surrounding Chan only grew. Taehyun glanced back at the guard, and he stiffened. Panic was clear on Chan’s face. That was what had felt strange. The guard, normally as emotional as a brick wall in public, was looking increasingly worried as they drew closer to Beomgyu’s chambers. Taehyun continued to walk through the halls, fear settling in his stomach.

They reached Beomgyu’s door, and Taehyun hesitantly knocked on it. He waited – half patient and half anxious – for Beomgyu to open the door. There was a muffled thump against the door, almost as if someone had put their full body weight against it. Taehyun's eyes widened, alarmed, and he hurriedly brought out his spare key for Beomgyu’s room, hastily unlocking the door.

“I– Beomgyu!”

He barely managed to catch Beomgyu as he fell limply through the doorway, almost face-planting onto the floor. It appeared that he’d been the one who’d fallen against the door, presumably after attempting to open it.

He was white as the marble which they’d just ordered for their new ballroom. His hands were shaking: not just trembling slightly, but full-on shaking without any sign of stopping. The dark circles around his eyes had gotten impossibly darker, with a purple tint also appearing around the edges of his lips.

Beomgyu struggled open his eyes, brown irises glinting painfully. “Tae– Taehyun?” he managed to croak, before passing out.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The Royal Physician, despite working such a difficult job always surrounded by sick and nearly dying people, was a kind, smiley man whose presence immediately put Taehyun at ease.

Taehyun watched, fiddling with his fingers, as Sir Kim calmly and efficiently went through all the basic check ups on Beomgyu.

Beomgyu, after passing out cold in Taehyun’s arms, had been moved back into his room. Taehyun carried him and tucked him into his bed, while Chan hurried to fetch the Royal Physician. Occasionally, Beomgyu would stir weakly, see Taehyun sitting by his bed, struggling to give a smile to his vizier, before passing out again.

When the Physician had arrived, he entered with a calm, almost motherly presence, and Taehyun felt himself relax in relief.

“Alright, I’ll waste no time. Sir Taehyun, may I ask you a favour?”

Taehyun stood up, nodding his head.

“I’ll take his temperature, his pulse, and all those things, but I’ll need you to tell me his health history for me to figure out what it could be. Could you do that?”

Taehyun nodded fervently. Sir Kim smiled. “Good.” He turned to Beomgyu, reaching for his wrist. He didn’t flinch at how unnaturally cold the King’s wrist was, only frowning slightly.

“Taehyun, what was his condition like yesterday?”

Taehyun coughed, trying to get the words out smoothly. “He was quite pale. Not as pale as right now, but paler than he normally is. He just looked tired, really. Dark circles, tired walk.”

“No cough?”

“No cough,” Taehyun confirmed. “But he had dry eyes. He kept on rubbing them. And-” his voice faltered as the Physician leaned closer to Beomgyu. “Uh, Sir Kim, what are you...?”

“Just call me Seokjin,” the Physician said, placing his ear over Beomgyu’s mouth. “I’m just checking his breathing.” He pulled away, crouching down next to Beomgyu’s ear, clicking his fingers loudly. Beomgyu flinched slightly, even while unconscious. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out an incandescent light bulb which was still glowing. Taehyun widened his eyes: only a few people had light bulbs, with them only just beginning to be installed into the palace. Carefully, Seokjin opened one of Beomgyu’s eyes, moving the lightbulb closer towards him. Nodding to himself, he put away the bulb and addressed Taehyun.

“His breathing is stable. His reactions are good, if a little slow, but that can be chalked up to him being unconscious. His pupils are dilating as they normally would, which is good. But his pulse…” Seokjin blinked calmly, staring at Taehyun. “His pulse became more erratic the longer I stayed with him. When I’d first checked, it was almost normal, but soon picked up speed. Does Beomgyu have any fears that you know of?”

Taehyun looked around the room, seeing if there could be any potential triggers. “None of them are here,” he said finally. “I don’t know.”

Seokjin frowned. “May I try something?” He moved around to the other side of the bed, where Taehyun was standing, and sat the vizier down. “Stay close to Beomgyu for a moment,” he said. After a pause, he added, “And hold his hand.”

The Physician stepped away, as Taehyun confusedly obeyed.

“You know how to check for pulse, right?” Seokjin asked. “Place two fingers on the inside of his wrist until you feel a faint pulsing.” Once Taehyun had done that, he spoke again. “Now, I need you to measure his pulse for me. Every time you feel it, tap your foot against the floor. Tell me if you are able to correctly predict when the next pulse will be.”

Taehyun nodded, slightly confused by the Physician’s request, but carrying it out anyway.

In the beginning, it was difficult to tap his foot at exactly the same time as Beomgyu’s pulse. But eventually, it evened out, and Taehyun could do it easily.

“I can predict the next pulse now,” he said. “What does that mean?”

Seokjin frowned solemnly. He pulled up a chair to sit by Taehyun, and spoke very gently and seriously. “I believe that this is not an ordinary sickness. The dark rim around his lips is not from a stain that he received after eating, or some strange form of lipstick. Dark purple marks like that often symbolise something else, along with unnaturally pale skin. Coupled with the fact that his pulse only becomes regular when you are near…” he sighed. “This is very complex, I’m afraid. I have a few suspicions, but I’ll need to carry out a few more tests. Is that alright?”

“Of course. Will you need to be alone?”

“Yes, I will. If that’s alright.”

“That’s fine.” Taehyun looked at Beomgyu worriedly, gently squeezing the unconscious King’s hand. He stood up, bowing to Seokjin. “Thank you so much.”

Seokjin smiled. “It’s no problem at all. Let me just call my assistant, and I’ll get right on it.” He stood up with Taehyun, walking him to the door and opening it. Standing right outside was someone around Taehyun’s height, with a bright aura and smiley eyes.

“Hoseok, I’ll need your help with this,” Seokjin said, and Hoseok nodded. He bowed to Taehyun, before entering the room. “I’ll send a message to you once I can properly diagnose him,” Seokjin promised, and Taehyun nodded, giving a weak smile. Hoseok gave Taehyun a reassuring smile and small wave, before closing the door, leaving Taehyun standing in the middle of the hallway. Chan had just finished his duty, and there were a few moments where there was emptiness between his and Jisung’s shift, who was next to guard Beomgyu’s door. This meant that, for the moment, the hallway was empty. Taehyun stared blankly at the door, feeling so frustratingly useless. He couldn’t do anything to help Beomgyu, and it frustrated him. Hesitantly, he began to walk away, wringing his hands nervously. He didn’t know what to do, and it stressed him so much.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Taehyun had decided not to tell Yeonjun and Hueningkai. What was there to tell them, anyway? ‘Beomgyu has passed out and we don’t know what it is’? There was no point. To also prevent himself from blurting out everything to the spies, Taehyun kept his distance from them, not even setting foot within the corridor that they were staying in. If he saw Yeonjun in the hallway, he’d give him a tight nod, before walking away stiffly.

He couldn’t keep it up forever, though. Yeonjun eventually confronted him about his strange behaviour.

“Taehyun,” he called, following Taehyun into the library. “Hey, Taehyun. Why are you avoiding me?”

Taehyun stared at him blankly, before ducking down again to search the shelves. Yeonjun followed closely behind him.

“Taehyun. Hey, Taehyun, look at me. Why has our friendship taken five steps back? Are we back at the beginning? When I was just a suspicious foreign Lord coming to see you and Beomgyu?”

At Beomgyu’s name, Taehyun gave a choked cough, ducking his head even further. Yeonjun crouched down beside Taehyun and grabbed the vizier’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to keep anything from us. You know that, right? We’ll help and support you no matter what. I promise.”

Taehyun’s eyes were red and dry from how much he’d wanted to cry out of stress but had been constantly stopping himself from doing so. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just stressed. I’m not trying to ignore you, don’t worry.”

Yeonjun nodded, reassured. “That’s good. Oh, by the way, where’s Beomgyu? I don’t see him hanging over your shoulder.”

“He– he’s not feeling well,” Taehyun gulped. Yeonjun nodded understandingly.

“Oh dear. Well, tell him I hope he gets better soon.” Yeonjun stood up, offering Taehyun his hand. “You’re okay, right?” he checked.

“I’m fine,” Taehyun said, feeling a little calmer. He remembered something, and reached into his pocket. “Oh– here. I’ve been carrying it around for a few days now, but here.” He placed Hueningkai’s marble in Yeonjun’s hand.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll give this to Hueningkai to destroy, then.” He smiled at Taehyun. “Don’t be too stressed, okay? Remember, there are people you can talk to. Me, a master diplomat and secret room-finder, Hueningkai, a master poison detective, and Beomgyu, a master of evading his duties. We’re all here for you.”

Taehyun smiled weakly at Yeonjun’s attempt at a joke. “Thank you.”

Yeonjun grinned, before walking away. As he was leaving, a small messenger boy came running up to Taehyun.

“Sir Taehyun! Sir Kim has requested your presence in His Greatness’ chambers.”

Taehyun widened his eyes, and ran out of the library.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Seokjin and Hoseok were packing up their equipment when Taehyun burst in. Seokjin looked up at the vizier, who was out of breath from sprinting through the hallways with his eyes wide and anxious.

“Hoseok, you can go talk to Taehyun. I’ll finish tidying this.”

The assistant Physician walked towards Taehyun, who was staring anxiously at Beomgyu, who was still unconscious on the bed.

“How is he?” Taehyun asked.

“We’ve run various tests over the past couple of days, and the results should be back soon,” Hoseok said. “In the meantime, it’ll be perfectly fine for you to stay with him. His vitals, barring his pulse, are all stable, and we’re certain that what he has is not contagious. We believe that he’ll be alright.”

“As in, he’ll get better, or he won’t die?”

Hoseok hesitated. “As in, he most likely will not die in two weeks’ time.”

Even with how unstable the statement was, Taehyun felt himself relax. Any sort of confirmation that Beomgyu wouldn’t die, no matter how unsure the confirmation was, made him feel a little more reassured. He gave a small smile. “Thank you,” he said. “Does that mean I’m allowed to stay with him?”

“By all means, you’re welcome to stay with him,” Seokjin said, walking up to them. “In fact, we’d encourage it. He seems to become better in your presence.”

Taehyun smiled at the two physicians. “Thank you so much, both of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Seokjin sighed tiredly. “Two days’ worth of work, sitting beside a sick patient, and yet we have nothing to show for it. The results should be back soon, so we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, I’d encourage you to stay by His Greatness. Look, he’s even beginning to stir, and you’ve only just stepped into the room.”

Indeed, Beomgyu was beginning to gain consciousness. Though he had been incredibly still just moments before, his eyes were now struggling open, blinking in the light of the early afternoon.

Seokjin bowed. “Hoseok and I will be going now.”

Taehyun bowed as the two physicians left, closing the door. He hesitantly walked over to Beomgyu.

“Beomgyu?” he said softly. “How are you?”

Beomgyu blinked hard, squinting. “Taehyun?” he said croakily. Taehyun pulled up a chair beside the bed, holding Beomgyu’s hand as he opened his eyes fully. He couldn’t help the ironic smile that appeared on his face.

“Beomgyu, love, you look like shit.” He held Beomgyu’s hand gently, lifting it to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You have no idea how worried I was,” he said softly. “Sir Kim – the Physician – kicked me out of the room for two whole days, and I was literally going mad with worry. And when I was called back, I feared the worst, but it’s good to see that you’re alive and well– but not exactly well because you look like shit.”

Beomgyu smiled at Taehyun, recognising the similar words he had once said to Taehyun. “I see you’re not rambling as much as I did,” he said hoarsely. “Should I be offended?”

Taehyun only smiled, tears blurring his vision. He held Beomgyu's hand close, pressing it against his lips. “Did I mention you look like shit? Because you do.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Beomgyu said. He reached out with his other hand to wipe away Taehyun’s tears. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry. As you can see, I’m alive, and looking like shit.”

It was a weak joke, but Taehyun was smiling. “You idiot,” he said.

“I’m a bedridden idiot,” Beomgyu said. “So you have to be nice to me.”

“Alright,” Taehyun said, smiling tearily. “I’ll be nice to you.”

He held Beomgyu’s hand tightly in his own, before promptly breaking down into tears.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Beomgyu handed Taehyun tissues from his bedside table, sighing affectionately. He’d propped himself up on his cushions so he could sit up properly, his hand still being held by Taehyun.

Taehyun glared at him, eyes wet, as he rubbed at his nose with the tissue. “Don’t say anything stupid.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to,” Beomgyu said, smiling. “But you know, it’s kinda weird how I’m the one who’s in bed with a throbbing headache and I can barely move my legs, but it’s you who started crying. But hey, I’m not gonna say anything stupid.”

Taehyun gave a watery scoff, swatting at Beomgyu’s arm. He balled up the tissues and threw them into the bin, coming back to sit at the chair by Beomgyu’s bed. Beomgyu stared at his red eyes, wiping away the tears still left in his cheeks.

“Wow, I never pinned you as an emotional lover,” he said amusedly.

“Shut up,” Taehyun sighed, an affectionate smile on his face. “It’s what happens when I don’t get enough sleep.”

“Speaking of sleep, it feels like I haven’t gotten any in about a hundred years,” Beomgyu said, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “My body feels so tired that I want to lay down forever. When will I be able to get up again?”

Taehyun looked at him oddly. “Those two statements contradict each other so much that it’s more than just a little weird. But you won’t be able to get up for at least a few more days. You’re not actually healed yet. You just managed to wake up.”

“That’s a shame,” Beomgyu sighed. “But it explains why I still feel like shit.”

Taehyun’s face grew more serious. “Where does it hurt? Are you actually hurt? Do you remember anything? When did this start?”

“Woah, woah, slow down, Mother,” Beomgyu joked. “Everything hurts, really. I just feel so… tired. Like, my actual bones are aching.”

“That’s not good,” Taehyun said worriedly.

“Nothing about this is good, love,” Beomgyu sighed, patting Taehyun’s hand. “But as long as you’re with me, I feel fine. Stay with me, okay?”

Taehyun tightened his grip on Beomgyu’s hand. “I will. I promise.”

Beomgyu smiled, sinking back into the pillows. He blinked slowly, as if struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You can rest if you want,” Taehyun said, noticing how sleepy Beomgyu looked. He began to rise from his chair. “It’s almost evening, anyway. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Beomgyu suddenly said, refusing to let go of Taehyun’s hand. “Can you… can you stay with me? I know it sounds silly, but can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Just so I know that you still love me.”

Taehyun blinked, face softening into a loving smile. Beomgyu’s tone was completely sincere. While it hurt him to think that he’d hurt Beomgyu so much that he needed confirmation that the vizier would stay, it just made him all the more determined to love Beomgyu as best as he could. He sat back down in the chair, holding Beomgyu’s hand with both of his own.

“Of course.”

Beomgyu’s face melted into a relieved smile. “Sing me a song?”

“Oh my–'' Taehyun had to turn his head away so Beomgyu couldn’t see the endeared look on his face. The big doe eyes, the soft pout, the shy, gentle blush on his cheeks… yep, Taehyun was definitely in love with Beomgyu. He schooled his facial expression back into somewhat of a normal look, turning back to Beomgyu. “Honestly, why are you so cute? Yes, yes of course.”

He cleared his throat, thinking for a moment for what to sing. He decided on a traditional Gojongja lullaby, the words flowing out of his mouth.

Taehyun’s soothing, melodic voice filled the room, the melody sweet and gentle. Halfway through the song, Beomgyu’s eyelids began to droop, his head nodding a little. By the time Taehyun had just started the second lullaby, Beomgyu was already struggling to stay awake. In a few seconds, he was fast asleep. Taehyun finished the phrase he’d been singing, before gently releasing Beomgyu’s hands, tucking him gently into bed.

He got up and looked down at Beomgyu’s sleeping form, smiling fondly. He looked so serene and beautiful. Gently, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss onto Beomgyu’s forehead.

“Get well soon, love,” he whispered, straightening. He gave one more smile, before leaving the room, closing the door with a small click.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Taehyun whistled as he walked through the hallways. It was the next morning, and he was on his way to visit Beomgyu. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.

His duties. The new council was being formed that day. He needed to give them a run-down on how it all worked.

He thought for a moment, before shaking his head. He could get Soobin or someone to do that. He’d ask Heeseung to inform Soobin, or he could even do it himself later. Taehyun gave a bright smile, resuming his journey towards Beomgyu’s room. Right now, Beomgyu was priority. He’d take care of Beomgyu first, then see to the council. A happy King made a happy Kingdom, right?

He reached the door, and nodded at Seojung, who was on duty. The guard nodded back, knocking and opening the door for him. Taehyun stepped inside, softly calling out for Beomgyu.

“Beomgyu, love? How are you today?”

A pillow was suddenly thrown in his direction with huge force, and Taehyun ducked. The pillow ended up colliding with the metal coat stand, and promptly burst upon impact. Taehyun stared as the dust and feathers floated down, along with the torn pillow case. He stared at Beomgyu, frowning, before bending down to pick up some of the feathers across the carpet.

“That’s not a nice way to greet me, you know. Do you know how much that pillow costs?”

He received no comment in return. No playfully exasperated sigh at Taehyun’s scolding, no delighted laugh at his own mischief, nothing at all. Taehyun frowned, straightening, setting the feathers on a chest of drawers. He looked up at Beomgyu again, opening his mouth to say something.

He paused, taking another step forward. “Beomgyu?” He spoke more cautiously now. “Love, are you okay?”

In response, Beomgyu threw another pillow at him, which Taehyun managed to catch.

Something was definitely wrong with Beomgyu, now. He was sure of it. Before, Taehyun had thought that the glare on his face was merely a playful one, but the longer he stared, the more he thought otherwise.

Beomgyu’s gaze was cold and unfeeling, and sent chills down Taehyun’s spine. This wasn’t like the red-hot anger he’d seen on Beomgyu before, nor the playful, light mischief that normally lit up his face. No– this was harsher: a stony, unemotional glare that Taehyun had never seen on Beomgyu’s face before, and his eyes widened.

He was sitting upright in bed, eyes cool and hard. He narrowed his eyes at Taehyun, fingers curling into fists around the silk sheets. There was a loud ripping sound: Beomgyu had held onto the sheets so tight that there were now large rips inside them.

A growl sounded– deep and rumbling and almost sinister, and Taehyun almost took a step back in fear. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t Beomgyu.

Beomgyu’s hand reached out to his bedside table, fingers grasping the oil lamp. His gaze was still fixed on Taehyun. His knuckles were white; his skin was white; his eyes were pale and icy.

Taehyun didn’t know what to do. He took a step forward.

Beomgyu growled again, narrowing his eyes. Taehyun shut his eyes, not wanting to stare at him anymore. This wasn’t Beomgyu. His gaze, devoid of its usual warmth and bright emotion, wasn’t Beomgyu’s at all. And he hated it. It physically hurt him to see Beomgyu so unlike himself.

Something came whistling in his direction, and Taehyun immediately smacked it into the wall before it could hit his face, opening his eyes. The oil lamp lay cracked and broken on the floor, the glass shattered and fragmented, as oil leaked pitifully from the lamp, an uncanny shade of dark red spreading across the expensive carpet. Taehyun looked up at Beomgyu, breathing in sharply at the ferocious look he was met with.

Neither of them moved. Beomgyu, seemingly growing frustrated with this, picked up yet another cushion and threw it. His aim had been completely off: the pillow tumbled past Taehyun, far away from where he was standing. But still, that was enough for Taehyun. Beomgyu wasn’t acting like himself, and he needed to find out why.

Taehyun strode up towards the bed, ignoring how Beomgyu growled and snarled in an almost animalistic manner. He grabbed ahold of both of the King’s wrists to prevent him from lashing out.

“Beomgyu, listen to me,” he said in a low voice. “Beomgyu, stop this! Listen to me!”

Even though he was weak and bedridden, Beomgyu continued to thrash around, trying to escape Taehyun’s grip. Struggling, Taehyun held on tighter, preventing Beomgyu from hitting him.

“Stay– fucking– still– Beomgyu!”

Out of options, Taehyun scrambled onto the bed (still holding Beomgyu’s wrists) and sat down on Beomgyu’s legs, squeezing them together with his thighs. He was practically straddling Beomgyu, with the other still struggling underneath him.

And because this wasn’t his Beomgyu – his gentle, warm Beomgyu – Taehyun felt no remorse for what he was about to do.

“Choi fucking Beomgyu!” Taehyun roared, strangling Beomgyu’s wrists in an iron grip. “I command you to stop at once!”

Immediately, Beomgyu went limp in his grasp, eyes glazed over from the force of the command. Taehyun was breathing heavily from the effort it had taken to restrain Beomgyu. Slowly, cautiously, he clambered off the bed, falling into the chair beside the bed. He watched Beomgyu carefully, but he wasn’t doing anything. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, blinked drowsily. His head kept bobbing around. Beomgyu turned his gaze to Taehyun, curling his lips into a sleepy snarl, which still managed to make Taehyun flinch. Beomgyu tried to lift his hands, but it was obvious the command was preventing him from doing so. His eyes closed, then heavily forced themselves open again, before he shut them. His head dropped, and he was asleep again.

Taehyun watched him for a moment, before quickly retreating from the room. He’d decided it would probably be best to return tomorrow.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The next day, Taehyun peered into Beomgyu’s room in a much more cautious manner, slowly poking his head in. Beomgyu was staring at him curiously, head tilted. Much to his relief, Beomgyu looked much more normal now, his eyes now alight with their usual warmth. But he wasn’t going to be rushing in just yet. Whatever the hell had happened yesterday: he did not want a repeat of that.

“What, have you turned into a snail or something? Honestly, you’re moving so slowly. Come in. I don’t bite, you know.”

Taehyun made a disbelieving noise, still hesitating to come into the room. “I don’t believe you, after what happened yesterday.”

Beomgyu frowned in a confused manner. “What do you mean? I don’t remember what happened yesterday. I’m pretty sure I was asleep the whole time. I told you before: every moment I spend with you is special, so I’m pretty sure I would have remembered if you came.”

Taehyun hesitated. Then he opened the door wider, stepping inside and closing the door. “I remember you saying that,” he said. He sat down in the chair beside the bed, automatically holding onto Beomgyu’s hand. “Do you really not remember anything from yesterday?”

Beomgyu shook his head. “I told you, I’m pretty sure I was asleep the whole day.” He pointed to his eyes excitedly. “See? I bet the darkness around them has gone down!”

The dark rims around Beomgyu’s eyes had not, in fact, gone down at all, but there was no way Taehyun was dampening Beomgyu’s excitement. He gave a weak smile, and leaned upwards to press kisses just under Beomgyu’s eyes. “Indeed, they have,” he said softly. He reached out with a finger to trace the faint purpleness of Beomgyu’s lips. “But it hasn’t gone down from around your mouth.”

Beomgyu’s lips formed a sad pout. “Aw, that’s a shame,” he sighed. But then his eyes lit up again. “Wait, if you give them a kiss, do you think it would go away?”

Taehyun laughed at how adorable Beomgyu looked, in complete contrast to the cold, emotionless Beomgyu which had been in his place just yesterday. It was relieving to see him back to being his normal self. “Come here, then.”

He pressed a soft, gentle kiss onto Beomgyu’s lips, smiling. This Beomgyu felt like his Beomgyu. So then what had happened yesterday? Why had his mood changed so drastically?

Taehyun listened attentively as Beomgyu rambled, but a small part of his brain had disconnected from the conversation. He had no idea why yesterday’s Beomgyu had been like that, and in truth it scared him. Though he’d been able to put aside his personal feelings last time to subdue Beomgyu, he didn’t know how he’d be able to cope if it kept happening. And if it got worse… he didn’t know if he’d be able to forgive himself if he accidentally hurt Beomgyu.

He had a sinking feeling that this bipolar personality of Beomgyu’s would carry on for a while, and he didn’t know how he’d be able to deal with it.

Unfortunately, Taehyun was completely right. The issue was an ongoing one, and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. In fact, it was soon going to get worse.

taglist: @my-moarmy-heart @arohabangtan @a-fragmented-world

#court of lies #txt #txt taegyu #taegyu #txt taehyun #taehyun #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt fanfic #txt imagine #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt angst #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together

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tauremornalome · 4 years

Text

everyone now reblogging the post i made about arthur nolan, but we all know who is the shittiest cult leader in tma. come on. maxwell rayner:

- gave gertrude robinson, known murderer of all cultists, a heads-up before attempting his ritual. did he even want to succeed?

- didn’t even write a breakup letter to jonah magnus like basically everyone else did but went "hey manuela could you please warn jonah for me and tell him i lov him and he can join me in our beautiful world of darkness” LOSER that’s how you fail rituals. also eww why would you want to spare jonah?????

- very anti-lightbulb. i’m starting to suspect that when lightbulbs were still a new invention he did that thing where you put a lightbulb in your mouth and can’t remove it and now wants revenge

- will make your tap water nasty (??? what’s that got to do with the dark??? i don’t know maybe it’s not dark related maybe it’s just his hobby)

- wikipedia page on edmond halley says his father was a “wealthy soap-maker” and that’s just. funny

- didn’t want to have a comet named after him anymore (ya know, a comet, big shiny light in the sky that will exist for another 170000 years) so decided to go by the mean nickname his science rival gave him

- franklin’s expedition nerd but died a year before amc’s terror tv series premiered. no quality television for you sir

- man, i relistened to the montauk episodes and honestly? i still don’t understand what exactly’s going on. kidnap montauk’s wife → make him kill people → ????? → profit

- *1864 maxwell voice* mr sandman man me a sand

- his cult existed for 300 years and still the only competent person in the history of it was manuela?? max, you should get yourself a hr manager

- got shot by the police. sorry but that’s the lamest death in tma. kidnapped a child and got shot by police. amazing. the guy died at least 3 times and his final death was the stupidest one.

#well THIS got long #i hate the dark #l9 #tma #the magnus archives #maxwell rayner #maxwell raynor #tma edmond halley #the dark #manuela dominguez #people's church of the divine host #mr pitch #jonah magnus #the entities #robert montauk #cultist bullying hours

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stories-mostly · 5 years

Text

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x Son!Reader

=Masterlist=

Guess what? I'm back with another chapter! And also had a revelation when writing but it had nothing to do with writing. It's just that I realized that mammoths weren't mammoths to the people that lived with them is all. Blew my mind straight out the window. Anyway, enjoy.

Words: 2764

Warnings: none

Chapter 19

So turns out that letter your teacher gave you to hand your dad was an invitation for a parent teacher conference so now you and your dad were sitting opposite Mrs Foster who was going on over your grades and work. She was saying that she had been giving you more difficult work that was for 4th graders and above to test her theory.

You were extremely under challanged with the second grade material. And understood more advanced materials with ease. Meaning now you should seriously consider what to do now. And there really were just two options. Skip a grade or be given more advanced courses and material while remaining in the same grades as your friends.

And with that you and your dad were left to make that decision.

Your dad wasn't a fan of the idea of skipping a grade. He feared that you might not be able to befriend older kids that would be your classmates. Not that he told you that but he's just worried. About everything to be honest but especially things that concern you.

The day after the talk with the teacher he sat you down and explained to you in detail what either thing would do. And left you to form your own opinion.

It was a lot to take in for an almost 8 year old. So you did what sounded coolest to you and your friends. And all of you thought it would be really cool for you to skip some grades.

So you told your dad that you want to skip instead of getting advanced work. The teachers gave your dad lots of the curricular of the 4th grade for you to test your knowledge with. So on weekends and after school you got different homework then your peers. 4th grade math, English and such. To everyone's surprise it was easy and didn't took longer than your usual homework. So one more grade was put on the skip list.

5th grade work was harder and at least gave you a bit of a challenge but it wasn't impossible so arrangements were made that if your grades held up you would be skipping 3rd and 4th grade.

You found that very exciting and worked hard despite school not being challenging at all. And when summer break arrived you were given the clear to skip the next two grades. The next school year you will be in 5th grade.

You won't be changing schools though as your school was both elementary and middle school in one. It was just different rooms.

But you didn't have to worry about that yet. Because it was finally summer break and you could lounge about at home and do whatever the f you want!

You, your dad, Pepper, and Happy were all spending the break in New York for the most part. Because they were planning on building a tower there which is cool in your opinion. Peppers idea. What wasn't so cool however was that you had to spend a considerable amount of time inside of office buildings or the apartment they had rented, as both of them were busy and neither really wanted to go outside in this city and cause a ruckus. So Happy was basically a godsend whenever he was free.

When he didn't have to drive anyone around he spends time with you. You actually got to explore the city because of him.

Today Happy was taking you around Central Park while your dad were in a meeting room discussing the buying of some property where they want to build that tower.

You were meanwhile making friends in the park. And were all around having a much more pleasant time.

You were climbing up a tree near the playground when a boy approached you.

"Woah you're really high up!" The boy pointed out. And you were. The branches were getting thinner though so you couldn't climb much higher.

"You're really good at climbing." He pointed out and you responded with a polite "Thank you."

Making your way down you jumped off the last branch and landed infront of the kid.

"My name is Y/n, do you wanna play together?"

"Yes! What do you want to play?" The boy responded in high pitched happy tone, not giving you his name.

The two of you wandered back onto the playground and dug as deep a hole into the sand as possible together.

"Its like a tiger trap." The boy mused and your head lit up with an idea.

"We can cover it up like a trap!" You stood up, wiped the sand off your legs and ran off looking for branches and leaves. Just like in TV.

You told the other boy to do the same and put it next to the hole. Together you covered the hole with sticks, then threw on the leaf litter and topped it off with sand.

It was still clearly visible if you looked for it, but from above it just looked like an average little sand mount.

"Now we only have to wait for tigers to smell the meat." The boy said as he placed a rock on top of the mount as a lure.

"We better hide." You pointed out and the two of you ran off the hide behind a tree to wait for the tiger to come.

And the tiger came. But not like you'd have expected. Happy, who had been reading something on his cell phone before looked up and realized you were gone out of his sight.

He jumped to his feet and looked about the playground not noticing the newly covered up hole in his search for you. With one step he broke the twigs and branches and his foot disappeared into the hole.

You bust out giggling as you ran forward to shout about the tiger being captured.

The boy was more shocked, he seemed flustered and apologetic towards your uncle.

"Are you hurt sir?" He asked shyly expecting the worst.

"No kiddo it's fine. That's a nice trap you two build there. Can you fill it back up so nobody else falls in?" He directed the last question at you. You sighed, nodded and got to work. The boy joined you and soon enough the hole was no more. Happy gave you a thumbs up at that and you turned back to your new friend.

"Eugene, it's time to go." It sounded from the benches not even 10 minutes into your new game. A younger looking woman was waiting there looking over the playground.

You turned your head to see which one of the kids were going when your friend started to leave.

Oh, so his name was Eugene.

You followed him to, what you assumed was his mother. Not really ready to have him go yet.

"Do we have to?" Eugene sulked but was beside her non the less.

"Yes, your mother said she'll meet us at the zoo in 15 minutes. So we have to go now."

"You're going to the Zoo?" You chimed in grinning.

"Yes, what's your name?" The lady who was not his mother asked.

"Y/n, and you?"

"Just call me Claudia. Yes, we're going to the zoo. Are you alone here? Where are your parents?"

"My uncle is right there."

She asked you a few more polite questions a person might ask to entertain a strangers child.

"We have to go now. Eugene be nice and say Goodbye to your friend." She finally said and pushed said boy forward a little. He hugged you a bit too tightly and waved to you as he left. Being polite you waved back.

So that's that.

With a sigh you turned to Happy who was now writing something in his phone. How boring. You wished you had your costume so you could play superhero.

Now that Eugene was gone you didn't know what to do with yourself. So you did the next logical thing and plopped yourself down next to Happy and stared off I to the abyss.

"You ready to leave?" Happy asked after putting away his phone.

"Yeah."

And so you both stood up and started walking along a nearby path. As you were walking Happy pulled up his arm to look at the watch on his wrist.

"We still have about an hour to spare. What do you wanna do?"

A lightbulb went off in your head and your whole demeanour changed in an instant.

"Can we go to the zoo?"

"The zoo? Sure." So Happy being the all knowing person he is turned and steered you in the direction of the central park zoo.

After paying you sprinted from exhibit to exhibit looking to spot as many animals as you could and maybe even spot Eugene again.

Happy could barely keep track of you in the crowds of people. It was summer vacation so lots of people were visiting the small zoo.

For the next animals you walked into a building. Happy however walked past it not having seen you enter it. You were oblivious to his absence and stared at the cute lil snake in it's big terrarium.

When you reached the exit you turned to see how far Happy was lagging behind you. When you saw that he wasn't. Now you were small and he could be just behind some tall people so you waited a little thinking he'd come eventually.

But he didn't. So you panicked. Much like Happy who was backtracking to where he last saw you. Just a few seconds after he passed the exit you came out looking like the scared kid you were.

You were already thinking about how you'd get to the apartment on your own. You sort of know the way, but only barely. And the address was out of the question.

You wanted to cry, but you knew that that wouldn't help. And also you didn't like crying in the first place, much less in public. So with a blurred vision you pushed past groups and families in a blind search for your uncle.

Meanwhile he was debating whether calling the police right now was a bit too early. What about your dad? He would have his head if something happens to you.

You passed the seal enclosure and climbed up on a bench trying to see over the crowd, looking for any sign of the one person that could save you in this situation. Your family and teacher had told you what to do in the case you were in but in your panic everything flew out the window. The whole "stay put" "find a family and ask for help" "find an employee/Police officer" wasn't coming to mind right now. All that was on your mind was that you were alone and scared and in a city that you didn't know.

A woman looked in your direction and frowned. She saw the distressed look on your face and came over tugging along a boy not much younger than you. Followed by an adult man.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" She asked prompting you to look to her. She saw the tears building in your eyes and knew what happened.

"I can't find my uncle." You said your voice wavering dangerously, confirming her suspicion.

"Sit down sweetheart. What's your name? Mine's May." She said softly laying her hand on your forearm.

"Y-Y/n."

"Alright Y/n, do you know what your uncles name is? What does he look like?" The man now asked, he was crouching down in front of you.

The boy sat down on the other side of you, obviously concerned.

"His na-me is, is Happy but that's not his real name," you explained as the almost crying hiccups in your breath started, "His real name is, is Harold Hogan. And hes taller- than you and chubby. Wi-th brown hair that is short."

May was taking mental notes, the guy sounded sort of familiar.

"And what's your full name, sweetie?" She asked.

"(Full/n)-Stark." You said as the damm finally broke. You wanted to go home, you wanted your dad, you wanted to not be here right now. It was all to much and you just let it out as the younger boy patted your back.

May had been stunned speechless by your name but called into action as your cries reached her ears.

"Shhh, shhh, baby it's alright, well find him don't worry." As she consoled with words she also pulled you into her arms. This was just supposed to be a nice afternoon with Peter and her Husband and now it turned into a rescue mission for a celebrity's child. But you were a child first, and a very scared one at that.

As your sobs quieted down she had made a decision on how to find the man.

"Y/n, are you alright to stay here for a moment? I'll go look for your uncle and you stay here with Ben and Peter, okay?" She pointed at the two people who had accompanied her respectively to show which ones which.

You nodded reluctantly and leaned against the back of the bench. Now with a red nose and slightly puffy eyes.

"Peter, you look over him okay?"

The boy, Peter nodded dutifully and took your hand and started talking after May had left.

"Are you okay now?" His voice was full of concern.

You nodded.

"Do you want some water?" Ben now asked and held a bottle towards you.

"No, thank you."

It was silent for a moment. None really knowing what to do.

"Okay, let's talk about your day then shall we?" The adult tried again, attempting to keep your mind from worrying thoughts, "What did you do today?"

"I was at the Playground. And I played with a boy named Eugene."

"That's nice, me and Peter made breakfast together today. Right Pete?"

"Yeah! We made bug pancakes to surprise aunt May," the boy beamed, " They were bigger than my face and we put syrup and strawberries and stuff on them! Do you like pancakes?"

"Yeah. But I never eat them with strawberries."

"Why not? They're tasty like that!"

"Because Pepper is allergic and so we can't have them incase the strawberry stuff gets on other stuff. It's called cross contamination and it's dangerous if you're allergic."

"That sucks!"

"Hey!" Ben chimed in at that kind of language.

"Do you at least like Strawberries?"

You shrugged. They weren't your favourite but definetly not the worst.

May looked around herself quickly spotting an employee of the zoo. But before she could approach them for help a better option walked into her vision. The man himself looking around panicked, trying to spot the small lost child in the crowd.

"Excuse me!" She half shouted and jogged over to him.

"Excuse me are you maybe looking for a little lost boy?"

Happy's head turned up with a mixture of relief and confusion.

"Yes! Hes about this big, (colour) hair, wears a Blue T-shirt with a lion on it. His name is Y/n."

"That's him, I found him looking for you over there, follow me."

"Oh my God, thank you so much! I can't tell you how grateful I am that you found him!" Happy followed her to the bench were you were animatedly talking with the young boy over various breakfast foods.

"Y/n!"

You perked up at the familiar voice. Before you could even process that your uncle was there you were already swooped up into a hug. Happy visibly relaxed having you back on his radar. With a sigh he put you back on your feet and took your hand in his.

"I don't know how I can thank you Mrs...."

"Parker, and it's nothing really. I'm sure anyone would have done the same." She waved him off.

Happy contemplated before coming up with a thank you thing to do.

Next thing you know you're holding hands with Peter and eating some ice cream together with the three adults.

Peter had taken your other hand as soon as Happy started to walk towards the ice cream vendor and was now talking about everything and nothing inbetween licks of strawberry flavoured ice cream as you wandered through the zoo together. Closely followed by Happy, May and Ben, who you felt very uncomfortable adressing with their first name.

Half an hour later the ice cream long finished you parted ways with the Parker family having turned the bad thing into something great. You've also learned a lot about Peter. Apparently he really likes both animals and Superheroes and was fumbling with excitement when you told him that not only did you have a pet but you also had a superhero dad.

On the ride home you gushed very excitedly to Happy about the boy and his interests. Your new friend was so cool in your opinion even if he was a year younger.

Peter was doing the same on his ride home. Not being able to comprehend that he just met the kid of Iron Man! Who kept a crayfish as a pet! Who does that? He just met someone who did. And he didn't even know he was gonna meet him again not all that long into the future.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @tater-thotties @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild @actualcringetm

#male reader #male!reader #m!reader #tony stark x m!reader #tony stark x child!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #reader insert #marvel reader insert #tony stark #child!reader #child reader #stark!son #stark!reader #starks bug #chapter 19

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purpleliketheplague · 4 years

Text

Low Budget Little Toaster 7 of 12

And now they're going up a hill.

(SNAP)

Shot of the forest.

(A Christmas tree lot? SNAP)

Get closer.

(SNAP. I think you forgot to take an ornament off one of them.)

A Shot of blanket.

(SNAP)

Now put the radio in.

(SNAP)

Now the lamp.

(SNAP)

Take them both out and put the toaster in.

(SNAP)

Overhead shot.

(You left an angel on one of these trees. SNAP. And again with the animal CD)

Now they're moving past one of the trees.

(SNAP)

Shot of them.

(SNAP. And a stuffed owl?)

Another hollow log.

(SNAP)

Okay, now it's night.

(SNAP)

They're turning a corner. Move the lamp around a bit.

(SNAP)

Close up shot on the vacuum.

(SNAP)

Now turn the lamp off.

(SNAP)

Get them off the chair.

(SNAP)

Rustle the bush a bit.

(SNAP. It's a plastic bush.)

And now, some shots of them.

(Multiple SNAPS)

Can someone move the lamp to the tree?

(SNAP. That's obviously papier mache)

Now. They're running away.

(SNAP)

And into the bushes.

(SNAP)

Bring the radio out.

(SNAP)

And now the lamp is looking at the tree.

(SNAP)

Have it join the rest.

(SNAP)

And now they're bickering again.

(SNAP)

Now the vacuum and radio are getting into a fight.

(SNAP)

Toaster gets between them.

(SNAP)

The lamp notices that the blanket has made a tent.

(SNAP. You bought that at a sporting goods store. It looks nothing like the blanket.)

Now they're settling down for the night. Lay the vacuum down.

(Multiple SNAPs)

The lamp is laying down.

(SNAP)

Okay. The lamp notices something.

(SNAP)

Alternate shots of the toaster and the lamp.

(SNAP)

Now I want a shot of them together.

(SNAP)

Flashback time!

(Okay. What did you bribe Bobby with this time?)

Sit the lamp on the dresser.

(SNAP. Comic books?)

Yes, Bobby. Spare lightbulbs are off-screen.

(SNAP)

I want a shot of the lamp without a bulb first.

(SNAP)

Okay. Put a new one in.

(SNAP)

Flashback over. Here's your comic books, Bobby. Go back to the previous scene.

(SNAP)

Shot of the sleeping lamp.

(SNAP. Wait, sir, what's this in the script? Something about a nightmare?)

Oh, that? Yeah. I put that in there.

(Oh no)

Okay, plug the toaster in. Time to make toast.

(SNAP. And Bobby's here again.)

Toast is ready.

(SNAP.)

I want a shot of jam being spread and toast being eaten.

(SNAP and SNAP.)

Now bring the smoke.

(SNAP. Where'd you find a bread table and chairs?)

My brother-in-law runs a novelty furniture company. The smoke is dragging away Young Master.

(SNAP)

He's trying to get to the toaster.

(SNAP)

All right, Bobby. Good work. Here's your gift certificate to Dillon Dillo's Pizza.

(SNAP)

Now the fire.

(SNAP. That's just a close-up image of a match.)

Okay, bring the clown in.

(Multiple SNAPS. Mr. Chuckles, why? He was my favorite party clown.)

Work has been tough for him, so I decided to help him out. Toaster runs from the clown.

(Multiple SNAPS.)

The forks.

(SNAP. How many silverware sets did you use for this scene?)

Now toaster is hanging above a bathtub.

(SNAP. There's no water in that thing.)

Toaster falls and wakes up. It's storming.

(SNAP. You projected a weather video onto the backdrop?)

Now they're all awake.

(SNAP)

The tent shakes.

(SNAP)

Now the blanket blows away.

(SNAP)

Toaster tries to save it.

(SNAP)

Now the blanket is lost in the wind.

(SNAP)

They're trying to look for it.

(SNAP)

The lamp is running low on juice.

(SNAP.)

The lamp gets an idea.

(SNAP)

It's going to recharge the battery.

(SNAP. You got an old, beat up lamp to replace the one?)

Of course. Now a shot of the others looking for the blanket.

(SNAP)

The lamp is determined.

(SNAP. You realize that using a spotlight to make it look like lightning is not a good idea?)

Put the lamp on the chair.

(SNAP)

Now back to the others.

(SNAP)

The storm is roaring.

(SNAP)

The lamp got struck.

(SNAP)

Now switch out the lamps.

(SNAP)

The others reaction.

(SNAP)

The lamp falls off the chair.

(SNAP)

Now the others surround the lamp.

(SNAP)

The battery is glowing.

(SNAP. You taped glowsticks to it.)

Okay. I want a shot of them. With the broken lamp in frame.

(SNAP)

#tblt #crackfic

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dehvastation · 5 years

Text

Fallout (With @MismatchedFreak)

Dehv: ~ I was moving almost before the car stopped. Pushing out of the door and starting to make my way towards the infirmary. Vishous quickly redirected me and I grunted in acknowledgement as I managed to make it through the double doors and almost barrelled right into Fritz who had moved ahead to open the doors for us. “Shit, sorry.” He shook his head and then stepped closer to me before starting to walk towards the infirmary. I knew that I needed to get checked out. But I really just wanted to see Qhuinn and ensure things had gone ok for him. “Fritz, is Qhuinn around?” I didn’t bother looking around, instead focusing my rapidly declining vision on the man in front of me. He shook his head and spoke quietly “He had to go out as soon as the sun went down. I am sure he’ll be back safely soon, Sir. For now get checked out and then, if you’re allowed, I’ll bring you something to eat.” He smiled slightly, and I got the distinct impression he was excited about the prospect of bringing food down to whoever was working tonight.

Once we were inside everything moved at light speed. I was poked and prodded. Needles stuck anywhere there was a vein. I was stripped down and thrown into a less than flattering paper thing that was not staying on me after they’d done their initial run through. I begged for a shower after they’d run fingers and scanners over every inch of my skin. I was allowed it, though Doc wasn’t too happy. Especially with how quickly my eyes were deteriorating. I knew I had to feed, but I wasn’t going to do anything until Qhuinn arrived and I knew he was safe. I’d tried messaging a couple of times, but then my vision had blacked out more frequently. Like a lightbulb that was on the way out. I ended up just asking Siri to call him after that. Leaving a message the first few times and then realising he’d get back to me when he could, and leaving 500 messages wasn’t really going to help. Instead I breathed deep and left one last message that I hoped would sound a little less panicked, “Hey Qhuinn. I’m back from the mission from hell. I’m a little beat up, but nothing too worrisome. Fritz has told me you’re back in the manse, but he got that info second hand. When you are done with Wrath or whoever, it’d be really nice to see you.” I poked my thumb at my screen and was pleased when I heard the phone disconnect. I’d not mentioned any of my injuries in my messages. Just left the odd ramble about being back and wanting to see him. Though as soon as he knew where I was he’d probably come thinking I’d broken someone’s nose. It was the norm for me. I lay back just as the Doc wandered into the room, I could tell right away from the temp dropping a good few degrees that I was in for some bad news. “Ok, what’s the verdict and then I’ll wait on Qhuinn getting here. I’ll feed, sleep, eat and then by tomorrow I’ll be back to normal right?” I tried to keep my voice light as I smiled to hide the nerves. Though it didn’t stop my heart rate from kicking up a notch or two when she paused. Then cleared her throat. Then moved a little closer to the bed. The machine I was attached to let her know exactly how I reacted to that stalling tactic and I felt a blush creep over my cheeks. I hated letting nerves show through, even though I was probably well within my right now that I couldn’t see more than the odd shadow or depth change when the lights got brighter. She moved again, this time she seemed to hesitate before placing her palm on my right forearm. The one that wasn’t presently in a cast. I tipped my head, hoping I was looking in her general direction and waited. “We need to get you blood right away. I’m concerned about your eyes with the fact you’ve got to also heal your hip, back, arm and hands. I’ll bring in a chosen right away and you can feed. That way we’ll have a good start on this. With the fact you didn’t lose your sight right away, and the slow progression, I’m worried it’s not something that will fix easily, quickly or possibly at all.” I swallowed hard and then clenched my jaw. Taking a minute to process before I spoke. “Qhuinn will be here soon enough. I’ll feed from him first and see what the outcome is. From there, and only when he’s here, will I consider feeding from another.” I didn’t wait on the Doc’s thoughts on that, instead turning my back to her and pulling the blanket up over me. I had my phone balanced in my left hand, fingers barely able to curl enough to hold it. But I wanted to be sure that if Qhuinn called before coming to find me, that I wasn’t going to miss him. ~

Qhuinn: [There were sadly no trainees or Brothers in the gym when I got there, which sucked. I was hoping for a good sparring session to work out my frustrations at the fact those little assholes managed to get another pass into the program. Instead I found myself knocking the shit out of the heavy bag that hung in the corner until my arms felt like jelly and sweat ran off me in puddles. On the way to the shower, I glanced at the time and wondered if Dehv was back from whatever the hell he was doing with Vishous. Maybe I could rectify this shitshow of a day yet. I showered quickly and dressed in my spare shorts and tee before I went back to my office to grab my phone. I tapped the button to power it up and frowned and the influx of messages that were waiting. What the hell? I didn’t think I’d had it off that…shit, the last time I checked it was before the meeting I think and I silenced it so it wouldn’t go off during it, not wanting to piss of the King. Fuck. I unlocked the screen and started scrolling through the texts as I hit the button for the voicemails. It was the last one that had my heart thudding in my chest. It barely finished playing before I was out the door, damn near running to the clinic. I almost plowed down Doc as she stepped out of the doors, “It’s about time you got here, get in there and tell him to feed.” I blinked and nodded stiffly before I pushed passed her into the clinic. It was easy to find my male and the growl that slipped out couldn’t be stopped as I made my way to his bedside. I knew the scent of spice was pouring off me but I didn’t give a shit if anyone else caught on. I crouched down in front of the bed, eyes running over him to take in every bandage and fresh bruise] What the ever loving fuck happened to you? This is not a little beaten up

Dehv: ~ I heard the Doc sigh and then she checked over a few of my vitals. I ensured I kept my back to her and even closed my eyes to try and rest a little. I heard as she shuffled around and then paused. I could just imagine her giving me a look that would have turned me to ash on the spot had I been looking at her, before turning to leave. The door shut and I heard her speaking, my heart spiking when I realised it might just be Qhuinn. My phone hasn’t beeped, so he’d obviously got my message and rushed over. Though I poked my phone out of habit anyway, the light showing through the fog of my fucked eyes, but nothing else. I sighed quietly and then shifted on the bed. Now the Doc was gone, I tried to get into a move comfortable position. The bang from the door made me jump, but then I was surrounded by the scent of Qhuinn. In this case a highly pissed off Qhuinn. But it still relaxed me regardless. I inhaled deeply and let my eyes drift shut again. Enjoying the couple of seconds it took him to charge across the room to the side of the bed. I didn’t rush, slowly opening my eyes to look in the direction that the bed dipped slightly. Though I wasn’t sure if it was a hand, butt or just generally him being in that area. I felt his eyes on me, even though I couldn’t see jack shit. It kept me smiling. The relief on its down that he was back from wherever he’d been dragged off to overriding anything. Possibly also the painkillers I was on, but I was going to pretend it was purely happiness. I chuckled at his wording and shook my head. “I’m mostly fine. I got a little busted up, and I know you can’t guess how. Since until tonight I’d have laughed in your face if you’d have told me. It was completely fucked up.” I felt the smile drop, my brows knitting together as I thought back on it. A full shudder worked through my body at the thought of others not being as lucky as me and Vishous at the end. Being spat out in sunlight, not being able to fight the lesser or falling on any of the spikes would have been a death sentence. We’d got out because we’d been let out. Not because we’d gotten out on our own. And that made my brain spin in 100 directions. I licked over my lips and then cleared my throat, lifting my eyes slowly to the ceiling before letting them drift back towards my imagined male. “How did your meeting with Wrath go? I’m guessing not well if you disappeared off the grid for a chunk of the night?” ~

Qhuinn: [I didn’t want to crowd his bed but I couldn’t stop folding my arms across the side as I dropped down to my knees so I wouldn’t have to bed over to look at him. I combed my fingers through his hair sighed. Something was wrong with the way he was looking at me and that sent the alarms off in my head. I wanted E here or something. Why they weren’t doing more for him right now pissed me the hell off. He was a trainee in their program and had been injured under the eyes of a damn Brother. Again. Maybe it was the Brothers who needed a damn course in how to do shit again. I narrowed my eyes and growled as he spoke] Mostly fine? Dehv, you can’t even look me in the eyes right now so don’t give me that shit. You said you were just going out with V for something he needed help with so what the fuck happened? Also, why isn’t there a damn chosen feeding you right now so you can heal?

[I shook my head and huffed out a breath as I continued to play with his hair. It was pretty much the safest spot to touch him it seemed considering the cast and wires and all that other shit going on. .] No, it didn’t go well. Wrath….well, Tie and Bernie are back in the program. So that’s fun. Wrath had no choice in the matter, which means I have even less of one. I got back and hit the gym until I heard from you…but being me, I left my phone in the office or I’d have been here sooner.

Dehv: ~ I felt the growl rise as quickly as the words were spoken. I pushed up slightly with my good arm and blinked over and over. I really wished I could fucking see. Those idiots were back in the damn programme. What the actual fuck? “What the actual fuck?” I shook my head and reached up to take the calming fingers threading through my hair so I could link our hands together. “They’re back in the programme. After attacking you in front of us all and refusing to take orders? They’ll kill someone before we’re done training. Either in training or when we’re out on the streets.” I exhaled hard and dropped my chin, eyes shutting as my head moved from side to side. They were glymera, so they had probably blackmailed Wrath or Qhuinn, or someone, to get that kind of offer put on the table. I had no doubt Qhuinn was pissed, and that was why he’d not answered his phone and gotten to me faster. “You had to hold your temper didn’t you? Please tell me they didn’t parade you in front of those two weasels in order to show that they could keep you on a leash?” I looked in his general direction, though I knew my frown was in place. It made me fucking angry that he’d be forced to do that. That Wrath would agree to that. I really hoped the answers to my questions were a big fat no, and that he’d just been in his office and forgotten to take his phone off silent after his meetings.

I then exhaled again and swallowed. “So, my night. It didn’t really go to plan if I’m honest.” I squirked a brow and chuckled humourlessly. “It started ok. Emergency call came through, Vishous paired up with whoever was available. I was surprised because it was so close to sun rise, but I wasn’t leaving him on his own. We got there, and it was just………weird. I can’t tell you why, it just felt wrong. It was an abandoned building. But there was nothing from the outside to say that there was an issue. We checked it out, then went through the front doors. Exactly how we practice in training and how we’ve done before out on patrol. Vishous lead and I basically just followed. Then, fuck. The whole thing went to shit.” I took a minute to explain what was happening. My left arm in the cast waving in front of my unfocused eyes when I got to the bit about the sunlight and trying to read the numbers. The falling through the floor and punching through the wall came next. I didn’t bother rolling so he could see my back, I wasn’t pissing off that slight wound now it had stopped screaming. “My shoulder and hip were already bruised from the training anyway. It just pushed them harder. Most of it will be healed once I’ve fed. Or so they say. Others, um, others might take a little longer to heal. But they hope it’s reversible.” I shrugged a shoulder and tried not to let the fear show on my face. I had released Qhuinn’s hand when I was talking through the various rooms that had been created in that death trap of a warehouse. Talking with my fingers about being drugged and then waking up in an empty space, so my good hand was free to reach forward and thankfully connect with hard muscle. I curled my fingers in Qhuinn’s shirt and tugged slightly. “I’m not feeding because I couldn’t reach you and I was worried. I don’t need a chosen, I only need you.” ~

Qhuinn: [I narrowed my eyes and my growl came out louder this time as he first tried to avoid my questioning by focusing on the wrong damn thing, but before I could get on his ass about it, he finally told me what the fuck happened. Little shit was still trying to gloss over his injuries though. I frowned at what he was telling me, it didn’t add up. No-one went into shit like that without a little intel and the Brother should have known better, taking a fucking trainee…at least when I fucked up, I had the information. Not my fault demons found us then. I shook my head and grumbled more] Obviously that’s more than a little fucking bruising. You can’t roll to your back, you can’t fucking look at me, your arm is in a cast. What do they hope is reversible?

[I growled a little louder at his stubbornness, and yet I still found myself leaning in as he tugged my shirt. I was shaking my head even as I brought my free hand up to cup his chin, mindful not to hit any more of his injuries] I’ll gladly give you my damn vein, but you need a chosen too. You’ll heal faster with the pure blood and all that. I am sorry I forgot to turn my phone back on though. I’d have been here sooner fighting you. After the meeting and seeing those two little assholes with their smug ass faces…

[I shook my head again and huffed out a breath] Yeah, I had to hold my temper in front of them both along with their parents. I told Wrath they were a liability, but his hands were pretty much fuckin tied if they want to keep the program goin right now. By the time we got back, I needed to blow off steam. Not sure I could have even held a conversation at that point.

Dehv: ~ I found that I was frowning. I couldn’t see Qhuinn’s face to know what was going on in his head, and I found that I took a lot of my cues from what he wasn’t saying rather than what he was. I waited on him finishing speaking before I licked across my lips. I hadn’t wanted to move, but I’d said what the issues were, I’d even gone into detail about why I couldn’t look at him, namely because I couldn’t actually see him. Maybe he needed details, or I’d totally and utterly fucked over his brain with an overload of what ifs. I inhaled slowly, then let it back out again, my eyes closing for just a moment as I tried to get my brain back into gear. I then pushed gently to try and roll to my stomach, the action pissing off my back and pretty much every other part of me if I was honest. “The floor, spikey. It ripped up my back before I could do much about it. But Vishous was protecting me from flying lumps of metal, which probably would have done far more damage ripping through me. We really didn’t have any information. You know he wouldn’t have gone in blind if he’d had a choice. And no, I can’t look at you because I can’t see you. I can sort of see light changes if they are bright enough, but I couldn’t tell you exactly where you were unless I have you nose to nose with me and I have to just look forward. That’s……well they hope that’s reversible. But since we’re not really a race to run headlong into sunlight, or stare through concentrated rays of it on the regular, they don’t really have a time frame like the do for the rest of me. It shouldn’t take more than a few feeds and some sleep. The cast, I’ve been told, is just to keep me from putting it at the wrong angle while it heals.” I didn’t move from my weird half stomach, half side position, but I did try to lift my chin to look in Qhuinn’s direction again before I started speaking. Wishing yet again that I could read his expression rather than having to rely on his words and tone. I cleared my throat and then dropped my eyes again so I wasn’t straining to see something that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. “I guess you’re right, a chosen will be best. I’m sorry I waited on you.”

I blinked a few times to get rid of the overly dry feeling in my eyes and then shook my head. “Those two are going to kill someone. Or team up with the wrong side at some point. I’d have been hard pressed to hold my temper in that situation. I’m surprised that Wrath was able to, blackmailing your king isn’t the best idea in the world. They back asap, or do we get a few weeks to actually learn something without getting our ankles broken in the process?” I snorted at the thought. The two of them were a liability. They had it out for Qhuinn, that much was evident in the attack and then the bullshit need for a verbal apology. It made my skin crawl to know that Qhuinn would have to go ahead and teach them while no doubt getting blowback for every tiny thing. I also had a feeling that they’d try their best to push every boundary there was and bend that rulebook until one or more of the trainees around them snapped. With a low growl I shuffled on the bed until I was in a more comfortable position and used my good hand to run it through my hair. “You staying while I feed?” ~

Qhuinn: [I shook my head and bit back the growl that threatened at my utter frustration. I didn’t need to hear the details again. I could see the results of whatever the fuck happened. Shit that shouldn’t have happened. I couldn’t even lash out at him because what the hell good would that do. Despite the fact he should have known better and if he didn’t have the information he never should have taken a trainee into an unknown situation like this. I took several calming breaths. Something Wraith had taught me because I was ready to fucking blow. My male obviously thought I was an idiot. Or his head had been knocked to hard to understand my frustration. All I wanted him to do was see the seriousness of his injuries and not try to brush them off. The wind was knocked out of me though when he confirmed it was the eyes they weren’t certain about. Because of course it would be that. Sure Wrath made it work but they’d never allow another blind male to continue in the program. And what of his business? I bit my tongue again to keep from ranting about how this shouldn’t have happened. Instead, he finally gave me something I could do to help. I slapped the damn call button so hard and when Jane came over the intercom, I demanded a chosen afuckingsap. I could hear the anger/hurt in his voice but I couldn’t help it.] you’re right, you shouldn’t have waited, your health is more important than that. You can feed from me all you want but dammit, Dehv, I want you healing so I can take you home and care for you. I can’t do that if you don’t take care of you first. And of course I’ll be here while you feed. Like I’m going to give some chosen a chance to lure you over to the dark side.

[I shook my head and sighed again at the return to the trainee program.] They’ll probably try for me based on their attitudes tonight. They’re back in immediately. I have to make up some bullshit to tell the others too since they’re gonna want to know why they get another chance. Just one of the perks of being low man on the totem pole that is the Brotherhood. There will be cameras and random Brothers popping in, as if I didn’t think I did a shitty enough job without all that.

Dehv: ~ I felt the silence, as I couldn’t see it. It weighed on me and I felt even smaller as I tried to line things up in my brain with what I was hearing and feeling. It was fucking ridiculous that I couldn’t see anything, and I was struggling to figure out which other sense to use. My gut was telling me that Qhuinn was probably just frustrated and scared, just as I was, but my ears and my head were telling me a whole host of other things. Mainly that I was a complete idiot and I was now an additional burden. One that Qhuinn really didn’t need with everything going on with the Brotherhood, especially now that the idiots had been brought back into the training programme. I didn’t want to worry anyone, and I really didn’t want Qhuinn to worry. The only injury I was really worried about was my eyes. The rest would heal with a good feed or two. Nothing was life threatening, and I knew that if it was I’d have been told. Whatever had been used to knock us out had gone from my system, and the other stuff were basically surface wounds in the grand scheme of things. The eyes though, they were likely going to be an issue, deeper to heal and who knew how sunlight would affect them. And I was pissed off already, Qhuinn sounded about ready to burst.

I opened my mouth to try and explain my confusion when the sudden noise made me jump. I groaned as my back shot fire through me. My brain telling me it was just Qhuinn getting me a chosen while also trying to calm my body back down again. I breathed hard, Qhuinn’s words making me feel shitty and warm and fuzzy all at the same time. I blinked in his general direction and frowned. My voice working, though I knew it was laced with my uncertainty. “I’m in no way lurable by a female. I’ll be sure to remember next time you need a chosen though.” I tried for a smile, but knew it fell flat. Instead I listened for the telltale sign of footsteps outside, knowing that Jane and the chosen were likely already on their way if they’d wanted me to feed earlier. I kept my gaze away from Qhuinn, or so I hoped, while I spoke. “I can’t see you. I have to go on what you say or how you sound. I’m not used to that, I can normally see what you’re not saying, or what you mean by your eyes or face. I’m sorry I’m not really interpreting correctly right now. It’ll get better, and I’ll be back to normal before you know it.” I nodded and rubbed my good hand against my face. Both eyes feeling dryer than they should despite the fact I was blinking more and feeling a little more sorry for myself than I normally did.

I swallowed hard as the door opened and I instantly looked in Qhuinn’s direction for confirmation that it was ok. He didn’t feel like he’d tensed up, and the room still felt as calm as it had when Qhuinn walked in. Which meant I was able to guess it was in fact Jane and a chosen. I spoke to Qhuinn before I address the newcomers though. “Cameras and random brothers is good. You’ll have me, Nhick and Davidson too. As well as a lot of other trainees who aren’t about to see one of their own fucked over again. I hear both sides of the conversation, or at least as much as you’ll ever tell me. But I hear everything the trainees are talking about. I know that they were shocked at the attack, and then when they find out they’re back in, without barely a slap on the wrist. I really hope Wrath has some kind of plan in place to explain that to everyone. It won’t go down well.” I shook my head and then looked towards Jane as she introduced the chosen. The normal formal stuff that came with it also happened. I wasn’t sure where the chosen was, or whether it was wrist or throat she was offering. I had to assume throat when I felt the bed dip with the weight of someone on the other side to where Qhuinn had been. I’d not heard him move. Which meant Jane or the chosen was sitting or moving beside me. I blinked again and tried to push myself into a sitting position without looking like I’d rather flay off my own skin. “Um, thank you. For your blood I mean. I should have taken Jane up on the offer sooner. I’m honoured you’re willing to help me.” I nodded and licked over my lips as I suddenly felt self conscious. Feeding was just that unless it was with Qhuinn. And yet being unable to see what was going on, and therefore unable to see what the chosen expected made my pulse jump with uncertainty. I glanced to my side, hoping Qhuinn knew me well enough to read me and help so I could feed quickly and then get back to just the two of us. ~

Qhuinn: [I had let out a low chuff of laughter when there was the slightest hint of a joke during all this. Apparently he still hadn’t realized I was all in and this was endfuckinggame for me.] I look forward to you watching me quite intently next time that happens.

[I shook my head and sighed as I took his hand in mine. I needed to do something but at the same time, there was no way I could leave his side to work out the frustrations. ] Normal is overrated, but you need to get better, that’s why you need to be feeding. If I sound pissed, you need to know it’s not at you. But yeah, I’m angry and ready to rip someones head off with this whole thing. I mean, one fucking break, that’s all I wanted for us. Maybe I’m cursed…who the fuck knows at this point.

[I watched him rub his eyes, then blinking like they were irritated, which had me looking towards the door as if that would get Jane moving her ass any fucking quicker. When the door did finally open, Jane was followed by a dark haired Chosen, one I wasn’t familiar with. My hackles raised and I could smell the spicy scent rolling off me. I heard Dehv start in on the whole training thing but I was too focused on making sure he was taken care of and that the chosen knew her damn place. When she started to offer her throat, I held up my other hand with a low, rattling growl.] the wrist will be fine, Chosen. And you’d do well to be mindful of his injuries.

[I saw and heard Jane try to hide a laugh and my eyes narrowed at her. She raised a hand in surrender and quickly moved around to check Dehv over. I was grateful for her assistance, so much so that I actually bit my tongue and let Dehv handle this shit without taking over. No matter how much I wanted to. Or how much I wanted to insist with go to UGH. The Chosen shrugged and moved so she was sitting, being very mindful of her positioning so she wasn’t touching Dehv more than she needed as she held her wrist up towards his mouth, her eyes on me as if waiting for my approval. I nodded slowly and she relaxed slightly, her words soft as she told Dehv to take what he needed]

Dehv: ~ I heard the growl, his words working through me just as quickly. I lifted my good hand to grip the chosen’s wrist ,but didn’t bring it to my lips right away. “As intently as you’re watching me right now?” I quirked a brow and blinked, the hand in a cast bumping against my temple as I tried to rub my eyes again. “I know, it’s you not me. I think that’s a classic break up line isn’t it?” I chuckled quietly and then let my fangs extend so I could claps onto the female’s wrist. Points sinking into the flesh and through to the vein, the blood hitting my tongue instantly. I tried to be quick and make it as painless as possible, but I heard the slight gasp as I broke skin. It always made me feel shitty, but it needed to be done. I slowly drank, taking pulls deep enough to get it over with, without causing the Chosen any discomfort. I lifted my knee to hide the natural response to feeding. I was comfortable doing this, had been doing it my entire life, and while I wasn’t used to being blind and having an audience, it was normal for our bodies to react to feeding appropriately. Normally I had a little ability to focus in on keeping things low key, but with my injuries I really didn’t have the brain power, or body control for it. It made me far more uncomfortable than a normal feeding. Especially after the joke from Qhuinn. As much as I knew how well he knew me, and how much he trusted me, it really wasn’t the best reaction to his words.

I fed for as long as I could handle it and then pulled back. Softly thanking the female for her services and I let her wrist go so she could close the wound and get rested up. I knew it always caused some after effect when one of us fed from them. Especially when it was because we were injured. I shifted in the bed uncomfortably and ran my tongue over my fangs. Willing everything to go back to normal so I could get some rest and finish talking with Qhuinn.

I wiped my thumb across my lips in the hope that there wasn’t any drool or blood, and then listened hard to see if there was anyone still in the room. I hoped Qhuinn had stayed, but past the amazing smell of his bonding scent that still lingered in the room, I couldn’t tell if he was still there or whether he’d nipped out. I heard murmuring and then the click of the door shutting. I swallowed hard and sighed slowly, “Are we alone?” I blinked again and shifted yet again, my back already feeling better thanks to the blood of the Chosen. “Works fast, I can almost feel it working. I wonder what it’ll be like when I wake up.” I didn’t worry too much about who was in the room, but I wanted them done. I was injured, tired and thanks to the blood running through my system, in a state I’d rather no one but my male saw. I really wanted a shower and if I was honest, just to get out the bed and move around. See if I could stop everything from tensing up. I didn’t voice that though, instead falling silent in the hopes that Qhuinn would assure me we were alone and work out how he could calm down enough to not feel like he was vibrating beside me each time he spoke. ~

Qhuinn: [I rolled my eyes even knowing he couldn’t see me. I shook my head and ignored Jane’s little looks as well as the Chosen’s look of concern.] Every bit as intently and not a break up line, you know damn well you can’t get that lucky.

[I bite the fucking daylights out of my cheek and grasped the chair with my freehand, knuckles turning white as the metal twisted in my grip. I knew he needed to feed, and a Chosen was his best option, but that sure as fuck didn’t mean I had to like what I was watching. Especially when I saw and smelt my males arousal. I knew it was natural and all that, but with my emotions all over and my head in need of tearing someone a new asshole, it becomes harder and harder for me to sit still. My fangs pierced my tongue and I was ninety percent certain if this went on much longer, Doc would be having to do another surgery before she left the room. None too soon, he released the Chosen’s wrist and after he thanked her, Jane gave one last check and I mumbled out a thanks to them both before nodding towards the door. Now it was time for the blood to do its work.I managed to dislodge my fangs from my tongue and sighed as I scooted my chair back to the edge of the bed.] Yeah, they’re gone now. I’m not going anywhere.

[I felt a little relieved when he said he felt it working, whether it was true or not was another story, but it had to be a start at least. I was still pissed, just not as. I’d probably keep that pissed off feeling until he was back in my bed where he belonged. Or his bed with me alongside him, either way, until he was out of here and seeing, I was going to stay pissed. I finally unwound my fingers from the chair and trailed them along his hand] Only way you’ll find out is if you finally manage to get some sleep, let the blood do its job so I can take you home.

Dehv: ~ I could feel the blood running through my veins. The difference to the blood of those I used to feed from in the club was like comparing wine to whiskey. Though, I still felt like it was wrong to have it coursing through my veins when Qhuinn was standing at my side. Especially with my bodies reaction to feeding, and the inability to clamp down on it. Had Qhuinn not been in the room I suspect I’d have been able to deal with it. Like I had all those months ago when we’d ended up in the hospital after the demon attack. That had been easy to hold myself in check. Both of us had been hurt, and I was in complete control. I felt like I wasn’t in control now. My eyesight was really bothering me, far more than I thought it would. I felt the disappointment slam into me when I felt the other injuries tingling to show that the blood had helped stimulate healing, but my eyes just continued to burn.

I let out a shaky breath and waited for the all clear from Qhuinn, the light touch of his fingers sliding over my skin only heightened how I was feeling, and I shuddered hard, a low growl slipping past my teeth before I could stop it. I licked at my lips as soon as it happened, and hoped to hell I wasn’t blushing. There was no way Qhuinn would want to know I was like some horny teenager after that. With him in the room and his bonding scent filling the air, it was little wonder, and still I knew he’s likely want to wait until I was entirely healthy again to ensure he didn’t do much damage. I shifted again, using my hand to rearrange myself under the blanket in what I hoped was some kind of subtle move. Though likely I’d just slow mo-ed my hand down my body and grabbed my junk right in front of Qhuinn, who probably had that half amused, half bemused look on his face. I got it about as often as he got me slapping my head into my forehead and laughing at him. It actually made me feel better to think of that and I found myself turning my face in his direction. “What expression do you have on your face?” I smiled, the image in my head enough to make me laugh. “I’m in pain, the injuries and otherwise. I’m not sleeping just yet, not before I know you’re alright.” I lifted my hand and felt around until I connected with what I assumed was his hip. I curled my fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugged hard enough to show I was serious, but gently enough that he wasn’t forced. “You know you are allowed to join me in here. It’s big enough and then maybe we can both take a breath. I really did think I might die tonight, and I’m more scared than I should be that even if I get my eyesight back, it won’t be the same.” I swallowed again and licked at my lips. Then I waited. I wasn’t going to push it, and I knew Qhuinn was pissed off, but I hoped that it was because he was scared for me. Which meant that once he could feel that I was alive, warm and breathing beside him, he’d start to relax a little. ~

Qhuinn: [I bit back a grin when I heard that soft growl slip out of Dehv’s body. I knew it was biology and all that shit, that Chosen’s blood would be all intoxicating and boner inducing, but I wanted to at least believe that his reactions were towards me. I could no longer hide his effect on me, my bonding scent had permeated the room the moment I saw him. It was a good thing I already had permission from Wrath to let the cat out of the bag so to speak. Fuck. My gaze ran over my bedridden male, taking in the injuries and trying to will the blood to work faster. I didn’t even bother hiding the next grin that threatened as he tried to hide his erection. I shook my head almost made a smartass comment when his words pierced through my brain. I was certain the amusement laced my words] I don’t have any expression on my face. I mean I’m just sitting here watching my male play with his junk while his in a hospital bed and I’m waaaaay over here in my chair.

[His smile and laugh cause that stupid kick in my chest again and I wanted to curse the scribe or whoever the hell was in charge all over again for this shit. I lurched forward as he tugged, chuffing out a laugh] I’m not the one who had their ass kicked tonight, nallum. That was all you.

[I frowned at the bed and his injuries. I hated what he was saying, if he was admitting he was scared, that meant shit had gone far more sideways than ever. I could have lost him tonight and missed out on all we had planned, all I wanted to plan with him. My mind was made up before I was even aware of it as I slid my shoes off and pushed from the chair. I carefully slid into the bed alongside him, making sure not to jostle a damn thing as I did, my hand coming to rest softly on this hip] Don’t even think by dying you’ll be getting away from me.

[I tipped my head and brushed a soft kiss along an unbruised portion of his jaw, inhaling his scent beneath all the medical crap going on and letting that soothe me as much as possible at the moment] and you will get your eyesight back, even if I have to make a deal with the devil himself.

Dehv: ~ I felt my entire body flush as I blushed hard and groaned. My eyes squeezing shut at the entire thought of Qhuinn watching me adjust myself after a feeding. Not that I was all that embarrassed around him often, but I really didn’t want him to think that I was worked up over anything but him. The amusement in his voice and the teasing edge helped cool me down though, it put me at ease and allowed my brain to register once again the bonding scent and the fact he was here from the minute he could be, even while I fed.

I felt the reaction to my tug, and the subsequent pause. I held my breath and waited. I knew what I needed, what I wanted, but I also knew that he needed to let his mind catch up. I’d thrown him through a loop on a night when he was already highly emotional. The anger from having to apologise to the two morons in our trainee class was enough to have me growling even as I felt Qhuinn move to get into bed with me. I had to bite down on my tongue to squash the reaction, and sort my brain into the present moment. Not that it was hard to do with the rock hard muscles Qhuinn sported settling against me. The heat, and still some of that spicy goodness, surrounding me with each shift of his body. It didn’t take much for me to have to shift once again to get comfortable and try to hide my reaction. I was injured, surely my body could stop acting like a newly transitioned male at some point soon. I was an adult, a trainee for the Brotherhood. I didn’t need to be popping an erection any time my male came near.

The gentle touches had my skin lighting up, and I huffed out a breath of happiness at the fact he was so close, everything about him lulling me back down into a calm state. I even heard the machine start to slow as my heart settled back into a steady rhythm. It made me smile, and the added bonus of that featherlight kiss only added to my chest feeling like it was swelling to three times its normal size. I reached with my good hand to lace our fingers together and tipped my head to get closer to those kisses. “Thank you for rushing here, and for sticking through the feeding. I have no intention of dying to get away from you. Though I’m sure the one in charge would just send my ass back to annoy you, rather than keep me around to annoy them.” I chuckled, my smile growing as I rubbed a thumb over the skin I could feel under my fingers. “This is serious isn’t it? I mean, you and I. We’ve not really been able to catch a break for the last 6 or 7 months, and just when we do I go and get myself injured. I mean, I knew what we were, but I think the fact you’re here while I’m about as useful as a newborn baby really speaks volumes. And don’t take that the wrong way. I’ll start imagining all sorts of expressions on your face. Then I’ll panic. Anyway…” I sighed. Glad I couldn’t see Qhuinn’s face as I babbled on. The words seemed far more seamless in my head. Flowing and heartfelt. Sounding like a half drunk toad really hadn’t been what I meant. “I don’t really want to keep it on the downlow any more. I want to take the time others get to be with their mates, and I want to insist it’s public knowledge. I don’t care what Wrath says. We’re worth that.” I nodded and swallowed hard. Blinking around the dryness in my eyes as I held my breath and waited for the reaction to my idiot speech. ~

Qhuinn: [I pressed as close as I dared with his injuries, my rubbing over his hospital Jonny against his hip before he took my hand and laced our fingers together. His erection sent my mind spiraling in a hundred different directions even knowing it was because he’d just fed and nothing more. I wanted to pounce and claim and make him, and everyone in a ten block radius, aware that he was mine. That would have to wait though. A lot of things would have to wait right now. I shook my head and grumbled at his words] I should have been here sooner, would have been. And if I didn’t get sent back for being annoying, you certainly wouldn’t.

[I flashed a soft smile, even though he couldn’t see me, as his own smile grew. That smile would get me out fighting for the race any damn day of the week, and who knows what else. I sighed heavily when he mentioned we’d not had a break in the 7 months we’d been together. He was right, it was one damn thing after another almost from the night we met. Well no, including the night we met since I was someone completely different then. Didn’t we deserve a fucking break at this point? But the fact he was questioning if it was serious or not really stabbed me in the chest. I’d obviously not done well in showing him that. He had no clue I wanted…what I wanted from him. I sighed again and gave his fingers a squeeze] If you don’t know how I feel about you by now, how serious this is at least from my side of things, then I’ve done a shitty job of showing you. Which I mean, I can partially blame on the endless shitshow that seems to be my life at the moment. We do deserve better. I was going to tell you that Wrath gave his blessing tonight. We don’t have to hide anymore, I do still have to prove I can work without favoritism, but other than that, we’re good.

[I gave a slight nod and kissed the corner of his mouth] I’m not going anywhere and no one can say a damn thing about it. For now though, you should probably rest.

Dehv: ~ I felt the change instantly, and I actually breathed a little easier knowing that I could still anticipate some of Qhuinn’s changes even without my sight. That was good, even if I didn’t ever see quite as I had before. I automatically tightened my grip on his fingers, trying to reassure even while I found myself huffing out a laugh. “Perhaps they’ll just send us both back and we’ll have to do some kind of weird assault cause to find each other again.” I chuckled and then sobered again. My words seeming to be met with elation and then uncertainty. I frowned and shifted so I was facing a little more in his direction, the move allowing me to press flush against his body, loving the feel of all that hard muscle pressed against my side. Even if it left my injured arm squashed between us. I didn’t much care if I broke the damn thing again, as long as I was close enough to inhale the spicy scent that was uniquely Qhuinn’s every time I breathed in. I heard his words, and I felt my heart stutter a beat. I was shaking my head before he even stopped talking. Almost missing that Wrath had given his blessing that we were able to be open about everything. My grin split my face without thought, and I relaxed against the bed. That would be so much easier than having to sneak around and hide. It would also afford my friends, the two who knew, the freedom to not have to keep things from their peers too. That would make their lives easier and make me feel better about having confided in them.

I groaned softly at the kiss and turned my face automatically to chase for more when the contact was lost. Unable to know if I was going in the right direction, and wanting to speak almost as badly. Reassuring Qhuinn won out though, and as much as I wanted to jump him and insist I wasn’t hurt all that badly, I knew he’d likely call me a liar and roll his eyes. Instead I wanted him to know where I was coming from. “I grew up with humans. I’ve only had one serious relationship, and it went up in flames when I transitioned. They aren’t like us, they come and go as they want. Break ups are sad, but they’re not literal heartbreak in a lot of cases. When I ask, I’m asking because I don’t always understand everything about this world I am now living in, and I surely don’t understand all of what by body is trying to do. You make me comfortable to explore that and not feel self conscious about things happening when they shouldn’t, or randomly busting out the spicy shit when you’re being beaten in front of me in class without me being able to stop it. In the human world, I’d not have been welcome to go full beast mode because someone punched the person I was in love with. I know it’s serious, but I mean, it’s more than that. We’re um….bonded right? Have I got that right, the terminology I mean?” I licked over my lips and grumbled at myself. Since I’d only ever used the word to really apply it to others, it felt weird to apply it to myself. I had no clue if I was saying the right thing, but I figured Qhuinn would correct me if I’d gone in the wrong direction. “I am really happy that Wrath has give us the all clear, that is a weight off. I didn’t want to hide us. We deserve to be giving rotations together that will allow us to have time with each other that isn’t in a training centre or out on the streets.” I smiled again and dragged my thumb over the warm skin of Qhuinn’s hand, my body feeling relaxed from the feeding, and having my male so close. Resting would happen, but I was determined to stay awake long enough to know if I had been right about us. Hopeful that my words had expelled any uncertainty that my original question had put in his mind. ~

Qhuinn: [When he turned his head, I couldn’t help brushing a soft kiss over that smile of his. Then I waited for him to explain. I think I needed to hear why he had the doubts he did. Or the questions at least. I knew life had been one nightmare after another for the past seven months but I didn’t think I’d done that piss poor of a job. I ran my thumb over his hand as he spoke and nodded slowly at the questions, despite him not being able to see me. I waited until he ran out of steam and then let out a soft laugh] mmm, well I…remember that first trip to hell when we ended up in the hospital. I told you then that I bonded with you, that even before my brain had caught up with what was going on, you were it for me. The thing is, I’d have chosen you anyway and I’m hoping you feel the same or I’m going to look like a jackass here right about now. I want you comfortable to explore this side of things since you’ve not had much opportunity, you can question and all that.

[I nodded again and just kept his hand in mine, despite wanting to wrap an arm around him. I knew I couldn’t, not while he was so injured, but there was that internal conflict that I had to fight on that. He was mine and I had to protect him, keep him safe. A hand in his would have to be enough for now. ] We should get some …well, we’ll have plenty right now since your ass won’t be going out at all. It will be nice though, once you’re healed up, for us to maybe actually get out without having to bribe someone for time or sneak our asses around. I think the Brothers three will be happy about that too. Wraith was about to bust us out one night I think.

[I paused, my brain going into warp drive at that. Shit. I’m going to have to let them know what happened too since I’m sure I missed check in. Protective assholes.I noticed he was getting sleepier and fighting it. Stubborn little shit that he was.] Now that we’re no longer on lockdown, we’ll have to try that whole date night thing again. Though I’d prefer to wait until you’re better. Which means you have got to stop fighting it, nallum, and get some rest.

Dehv: ~ I smiled sleepily as my lips still tingled from the kiss. Wanting and craving more as was always the case. I blinked and remembered back to that night at the hospital. He had said that. It had barely registered with the head injury, but I knew that deep down it had stuck. It felt like my body was relaxing now that I was having it confirmed. That what I was thinking was true, and that it did have a name. That how I felt was normal, or as normal as either one of us ever got. I chuckled at his declaration, and the fact he’d look like a jackass. Wouldn’t be the first time. I nodded and moved slightly to get more comfortable and give Qhuinn a little more space on the bed with me. I was fading fast now, and while I was still raging with hormones, I was also feeling lethargic and floppy. I hummed quietly before I spoke. “I know I can ask questions. I don’t want you questioning whether you’re showing me, you are. I just question because I was brought up human basically. I see them walk away from each other after thirty years together without more than angry shouting and I am not sure I’d be capable of that. Not how I feel right now.” I shook my head and then tipped my chin again to blink sleepily at the male lying beside me. Up this close I could almost swear I could see every fleck in his mismatched eyes. I knew I probably looked like I was glazed over, but I was trying hard to make my eyes work, to make them see my male and let me get drawn into those unique eyes like I normally did. I wasn’t sure why he’d chosen me, but I wasn’t going to bring up his error in judgement. I was keeping him now that I had him. Especially now I didn’t have to try and hide it in training from everyone but Davidson and Nhick. I just wished the image I had in my head would become reality. Praying in a way that I never did, that the Chosen blood would work before I woke.

I frowned as the next words sunk in, a growl rumbling through me before I even thought of it. “I’m going to be fine, and then I’ll be back in training and out on patrol. I promise, this isn’t anywhere near as bad as it looks.” I shook my head and squeezed his hand. I wasn’t sure why I was promising that, whether it was for him or for me. I knew I was terrified that I’d be stuck this way. I knew I’d make it work, but I’d be damned if I didn’t fight my ass off to ensure I got back my eyesight so I could get back to patrolling and training. I’d only just found my place here, I wasn’t losing that now. The growl died down quickly though, and I found myself exhaling hard. Trying to clear the panic and focus on the good, on the things that kept me grounded. I wasn’t going to lose Qhuinn or the Brotherhood or the trainees if I didn’t heal, I’d just have to find a new way to help support them. That I could do. I licked at my lips and realised I was thirsty as well as sleepy. “Could I have a sip of the water on the side, please?” I smiled and then swallowed hard. “And yes, now that we don’t have to hide hopefully they’ll actually allow us time off together. Think you’d want to move in to save us having to always pick a place and pack a bag before each session? I mean, it’s been months, but feel free to say no. I’d move to yours, but I need the office space. Though I guess I could just go there for meetings and….well. Let me know.” I trailed off and then yawned loudly.

Feeling sated of thirst and comfortable with Qhuinn relaxing beside me I knew I was fighting it, but I didn’t want to drift off when I wasn’t sure what the next day would bring. Yet I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open any longer. I tried to mumble that I wasn’t fighting it, I was just fine. I’d be more than able to get up and go train right now if I needed. But I felt like my tongue was too big for my mouth. I barely even noticed when reality blended with unconsciousness. ~

Qhuinn: [I pressed as close as I dared when Dehv moved. I couldn’t help being cautious, I didn’t want to be responsible for any additional injuries he might incur. I shook my head and let out a low chuckle that wasn’t quite amusement but close] I know you grew up with humans, but we are nothing like them. When we are bonded to another, it’s for keeps. We’ll probably fight over the years, it’s inevitable, but at least from this side, there is no walking away.

[When his head tipped up and his eyes fought for focus, my heart crackled a little more. They were twitching and darting around and I knew he wasn’t seeing me and that, well that fucking hurt. He was always the one person who would look at me and never see the fuck up that I was, even when I did massively fuck shit up. His eyes were so expressive of everything he thought and felt. Now they were just empty. I shook my head at his growl and sighed] When you can see again, then you can worry about training and patrol, until then just relax so you can heal.

[I reached over and grabbed the water for him, holding it to his lips while he took a few needed sips. His next question caused a whole other tumble in my chest but not for bad reasons. I knew what we were and how we were, but this was still a big step. One that I hadn’t counted on for some reason. I brought our joined hands up and kissed his knuckles as he started to fade off into sleep, finally. His half whispered arguments against it fell on deaf ears because he couldn’t keep fighting it] We’ll figure out which place suits us best and go from there. Sleep, dream, and let your body heal.

[I settled my head on the pillow and watched him as sleep finally took hold. Maybe that made me a creeper, but I didn’t care. When the door cracked open hours later, Jane came in to check on him and covered us both with a blanket. I thanked her silently and then continued on as I was until finally I felt secure he was safe, he was healing and he was mine, and only then did I finally give in to my own need for sleep.]

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you-guys--are-losers · 5 years

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Promptsmas Day One: First Snow!

//This is for @spiderman-homecomeme and her Promptsmas prompts! I am so excited about it, and I wanna thank her for being a beautiful human!

**Special thanks for @im-just-bri for sending me the screenshots of this after I accidentally deleted it!

Prompt: First Snow

Peter has grown used to Michelle Jones over the past few months, in the same way someone acquires a taste for fine wine.

In the first few weeks of their friendship, her sarcastic remarks and dry sense of humor caught him off-guard. he had not known what to do the first time she fell asleep on his sofa during a sleepover with him and Ned, and Peter had never quite known what to do when he could tell that she was upset about something.

But it only took a few months, because now, Peter is “fluent in MJ.”

Now, he is well-versed enough in her humor to be able to quip back, and he and Ned have gotten used to draping their friend’s preferred blanket over her curled-up, sleeping form. Peter knows now that when MJ is upset, there is only one way to fix it: chocolate chip waffles and TV-show marathons with her and with Ned.

All this said, even if it feels like they’ve been friends for forever, Peter and Ned have only been friends with MJ since the end of sophomore year. This means that there is one thing that the trio hasn’t faced together: winter. As it becomes colder, Peter begins to notice little things about MJ that he has never seen before. As the temperature drops, he adds more and more tidbits to the growing collection of what he knows about their brunette best friend.

He learns that for some reason MJ does not seem to think that she needs a winter coat. She uses hoodies and jean-jackets every day, as if they are perfectly capable of shielding her willowy figure from the cold, and she refuses to accept any offer of a jacket from Peter or Ned. She does own a scarf, though, as well as a pair of fingerless gloves. She almost never takes off the gloves over the course of the entire school day. though MJ gives no reason for this, Peter privately knows that he has discovered something else about her that he did not know about her before-- her hands are always cold.

There are other things he begins to notice, too. Hot chocolate stars to be used as a substitute for tea in the mornings, and every so often Peter and Ned catch a glimpse of fuzzy socks that have been squeezed into her combat boots. Doodles of mittens and scarves begin to replace MJ’s normal sketches of autumn leaves on the corner of her papers. But there is one thing that Peter cannot seem to figure out about her now: MJ is glued to her weather app.

Peter catches her on her phone a lot more regularly than she ever has been before, and she refuses to cite the reason. She isn’t talking to anyone, Peter is sure, because she never appears to be typing a text (not that Peter keeps tabs on her relationship status or anything, though). However, there have been several points in time that Peter has caught her refreshing AccuWeather in the middle of AP Chem.

It’s only when MJ completely drops her phone from excitement that Peter realizes what it is.

It happens on a Monday in fourth hour. MJ’s sharp gasp of excitement catches Peter by surprise, but what really causes him to pay attention is when the cracked iPhone 5 clatters to the floor. The phone skitters across the floor, spinning slowly until it comes to a stop at the foot of Mr. Cobbwell. The sound is enough to make Peter look up from where he is working on improving the web-fluid, and the entire class is looking up now, too. Cobbwell peers back at them with a look of disapproval on his face, one that causes MJ to tense beside him.

“Is something the matter, Miss Jones?” prompts the teacher, raising an eyebrow as he sets down the dry-erase marker he was using.

“No, I, um...” MJ says quickly, her eyes suddenly widening.

She seems to be frozen by all of the eyes in the class on her. MJ is normally one of the most relaxed people that Peter knows, but he also knows that she doesn’t always know how to handle attention. It even took her a while to get used to being noticed by Peter and Ned.

“I was grabbing something from her bag for her, and I knocked it out,” Peter speaks up, gesturing to the bag that is on the table between them. “It’s my bad, sir. Can I grab it?”

Cobbwell hesitates for a moment, but after a second his face softens. Peter knows that both he and MJ have a good standing with him, since Peter is the only one who laughs at his science puns and MJ returns one of her own every once in a while.

“Alright, Mr. Parker. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he decides, and Peter slides out of his seat in order to grab the phone with the worn, purple case. As soon as he has it, Peter returns to his seat and sits down beside MJ.

As soon as the lesson resumes, MJ glances back over at him with an acutely uncomfortable expression on her face. “Sorry,” she mutters, allowing a piece of hair that has escaped from her curly ponytail to fall into her eyes. “Thanks, Parker.”

She reaches for her phone, but before he hands it over, Peter turns it over and peers at the screen. There is a lightbulb moment in his head, and a smile plays with his lips as he passes it back.

“So, an 85% chance of snow on Friday, huh?” he comments as she takes the phone. He knows that the smug grin isn’t gone as she slides the phone into the pocket of her bomber jacket. He is pleased because he finally understands why she’s been on her phone so much, finally gets this one little piece of her.

MJ has been waiting for the first snow.

“Shut up, loser,” she instructs as she returns to her online notes. That isn’t enough to get peter off of her scent, though. He can see that she is struggling to keep him from noticing the rosy tinge of her skin, the reddened tips of her ears.

He doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, though Peter can see she is waiting for him to do so. Still, he doesn’t say anything in front of Ned, even though it’s become a habit of theirs to recap for him what happened in the one class the three of them don’t share. Ned is stuck next door in AP Computer Science, so he normally gets a play-by-play of the entire class... But not today. Peter lets her be lulled into a false sense of security over the course of the week as Friday rolls around, with all of its anticipation in tow.

Peter can see it in every inch of her body-- an excited sort of tension in her muscle, a skip in her step as she walks. Peter pretends not to notice it, but the gleam in her eyes is just enough to warm his chest a bit, despite the bite in the air. She is barely being subtle about her phone anymore as she checks the the hourly forecast, but this is to Peter’s advantage.

MJ is so preoccupied with her own phone that she does not see Peter doing the exact same thing.

It is scheduled to come during Chem, so Peter keeps an eye on the window the entire class period. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the sky of swollen gray clouds, clouds that are waiting to unleash flurries of thick snow onto the city. Peter can’t help but feel the childlike excitement brewing in his chest now. According to the app, it’s supposed to happen any moment, and the lesson has just begun. Peter’s mind has never been farther from thermochemistry.

And once he sees it, the subject matter flies out of his head, out the window, and into the air, which is carrying the first new, fresh flakes.

Peter glances quickly at the girl next to him, who is so focused on her phone that she has not noticed the flakes yet. It is then that Peter sneaks out his own phone and sends a quick text to Ned.

now.

Not even thirty seconds after Peter sneaks his phone back into his pocket, there is a flickering of the lights, and then the classroom is plunged nto darkness. There is a startled murmur that ripples throughout the room, and it is then that Peter acts.

“MJ,” he hisses as Cobbwell struggles to regain control of the class.

In the darkness, Peter can see the outline of MJ’s face, which is lit by the cool winter light coming through a single window. She does not even turn to him, still scrolling through her AccuWeather.

“What?” she hums. “Parker, in case you didn’t notice, we’ve just gone full dystopian novel, so it’s not the best time for me to help you with the homework problems. Maybe if you want to get ready for the Hunger Games together, we can talk-”

“What? No,” Peter interrupts, a grin forming on his lips. “Come on. We’ve only got a couple minutes to get out.”

“Get out?” MJ repeats, and now she’s looking up from her phone. “I was kidding, loser, not-”

“It’s snowing,” Peter states, dropping each word with equal weight, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

MJ stares at him blankly for a moment, and then a playful grin crosses her face. “No way,” she finally laughs under her breath, shaking her head. The laugh, the smile, cause his heart to skip a beat for some reason. “Even you two nerds aren’t that good.”

“Aren’t we?” Peter hums smugly, thinking about the time they completely hacked Tony Stark’s own spideysuit. “Come on. Do you want to go, or not?”

MJ peers at the open door, then back at him. One last glance is spared for the window, where the snow is coming down in increasing speed. Then, finally, she turns back to him.

“You first, then me,” she instructs.

Without another word, Peter says something to Cindy Moon about going to grab his homework from his locker. As he heads out, Peter can hear MJ asking Abe to tell Cobbwell that she had to go to the bathroom. He is out the door first, and then a moment later MJ practically materializes by his side with a bathroom pass in her pocket and a little grin on her face.

“Come on, before someone sees,” she instructs, and before Peter can fully process what’s happening, she grabs his forearm and begins to run down the hallway.

For some reason, as they run, blood rushes to Peter face. He has run down this hallway many times before-- to save people from a bus crash, to go and stop a robbery in progress, and even to fight with Liz’s dad. But this is a good reason to be running, and he is all too aware of the warmth that her hand leaves on his arm as they turn and sneak out one of the building’s side doors and onto the path to the football field.

For a moment, the cold air washes over them, and Peter can feel both of their muscles tense. Then, MJ tugs him father away from the building and into the openness of the courtyard behind the school.

The snow is falling in thick, fluffy flakes that stick together in the air, forming chains of cottony, clumpy snow. They flakes are so large that they appear to be spun from sugar, the sort of snow that is everywhere in the air. It surrounds them, as far as he can see, falling so slowly that is seems suspended in the air. peter feels like he is inside of a snow globe with her.

MJ is frozen still, and Peter’s eyes travel to her face as she takes it in and ignores him completely. He doesn’t mind being ignored in the least-- he would much rather be free to study the childlike wonder in her eyes, the awe that is written into every line and curve of her face as she blinks, disrupting the flakes that have settled onto her long lashes.

For a moment, Peter can’t breathe, because she looks like she belongs here and nowhere else.

The snow nestles into her kinky curls, dusts her shoulders, and settles on her long lashes as she tips her face slightly up to the sky. For a moment, her eyes close entirely, and she seems to be drinking in the cold air and the caresses of the snowflakes as they fall down around her.

For a second, Peter wonders what it would be like to slide his arm away slightly, so she was gripping his hand in that same gentle grasp that encircles his forearm.

But then, her eyes open, and they are wild with excitement. “Come on!” she insists. “We have to do that lame thing where we catch snowflakes on our tongues. For scientific purposes.”

“Scientific purposes?”

“Gotta taste those chemicals the corporations are pouring into the atmosphere, Parker. Come on.”

And then, they spend a good ten minutes outside tasting the snow and letting it settle in their hair and on their shoulders. Peter knows it is borrowed time, that Ned is going to have to come up with a good excuse later and that he and MJ are going to have to be extra convincing when it comes to their return to class.

But none of that matters as Peter Parker watches Michelle Jones spin like a child in the center of the school courtyard, with snow in her hair and an easy smile on her lips. All that matters is that he gave her that smile, the one that drives away the winter chill and leaves him with only her warmth.

105 notes · View notes

seenashwrite · 5 years

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Nash Watches & Rates Cheesy Lifetime & Hallmark Original Christmas Movies, So You Don’t Have To (2018)

(a.k.a. - Nash Records Her Viewings Of Lifetime & Hallmark Original Christmas Movies, which are fanfic in visual form & are gold)

ETA Jan 2019: This adventure is now moving to @seenashblog, so my SPN peeps can rest assured they’ll not be exposed to this any longer - I have a feeling I’ll not be done purging my soul for awhile yet #bless my heart

Last Addendum, I Swear

But I caught one this morning called “Home For Christmas Day” that sailed into a 5/5 with little effort. Here’s a mash-up of two “official” summaries I found, and that’s all I am giving you:

An Army widow worries about her teenage daughter when she meets a soldier from the town's military base & starts to spend time with him during the two weeks before he ships out. The mother wants to spare her daughter the pain of losing someone she loves in action, so she tries to get her daughter to break it off with the soldier before she becomes attached. Little do they know they are about to learn important lessons of the heart and that taking chances can make this Christmas one they will cherish forever.

All 4 leads (mom, diner owner, daughter, soldier) are good actors (the daughter really impressed me), and they help overcome some dialogue that could’ve been less formulaic. A highlight is that Kristin Chenoweth’s “Home On Christmas Day”, a *phenomenal* song and one that has permanent residence on my holiday playlist, is featured and sung by a character who - wait for it - can actually sing and it was pleasant to hear, they kept it simple, and it’s the better for it. The movie could’ve gone Velveeta and shmoop and severe angst fast, but it didn’t. You’ll be torn on the ending, some of you wishing they’d gone the other direction. You’ll be sweetly tearful either way.

So, the new official rec list for the ones that are worth your time?

(5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark)

(5 of 5) Love At The Christmas Table (Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson - Lifetime)

(5 of 5) Home For Christmas Day (Catherine Bell, Victor Webster - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Mingle All The Way (Jen Lilley, Brant Daugherty, Lindsay Wagner - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) A Princess for Christmas (Sam Heughan, Katie McGrath, Sir Roger Moore - Hallmark)

And don’t forget: never, ever watch “My Christmas Love”.

Past entries below

Special (Royal) Addendum!

In a shocking turn of events, I’m about to recommend a [gulp] prince-and-princess-based plot Hallmark movie. I’m out-of-pocket a lot this week, but spotted this one randomly and needed to tell you about it, in case you had a chance to catch it. Because surprise, surprise - from some pretty impressive music for a TV movie, to some solid acting (even from the precocious children!), to a decent script, the most off-putting thing is the title. Possibly the best thing? It’s from 2011 but you may recognize the leading man:

So as a reminder, here’s my overall recommendation list for Christmas movies that are actually worth your time...

(5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark)

(5 of 5) Love At The Christmas Table (Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Mingle All The Way (Jen Lilley, Brant Daugherty, Lindsay Wagner - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) A Princess for Christmas (Sam Heughan, Katie McGrath, Sir Roger Moore - Hallmark)

...and the newest addition is the one in question, I’ll give you the scoop.

Google tells me that this was marketed in the UK as “A Christmas Princess”, but I don’t find that any better - I hate movies that blow their wad in the title. Let us not forget the Hallmark rule (and I am certain by this point it IS a rule) that “Christmas” must be in the title. So why not just “Christmas at _ Manor”? That implies aristocracy of some sort, it’s just.... blaaaargh, this channel. Wait hey, look what google told me!

* I swear on my stories that I did NOT see that before I wrote this draft *

Interestingly the version that’s on You Tube is called the latter, so... ya got me. But legit, I am shocked that when you click the “info” on the TV, it says it’s only got 2 stars. It’s higher on IMdB. Probs high ratings, too. I’m not looking it up.

Right. So. Heughan is a *phenomenal* actor, there’s nothing more to say there, and McGrath is high above average for not just typical Hallmark fare, but TV in general. I knew I recognized her, and turns out she was in the short-lived TV series Dracula about 4 years ago (of which I watched the pilot and peaced out), and google tells me she plays Lena Luthor on Supergirl presently (which I don’t watch), but where my lightbulb went off was that she’s the chick who inexplicably got yanked away by a pterodactyl and eaten by the water dino in Jurassic World. She is a gorgeous woman whose hair is made to look atrocious and it’s Hallmark tradition, so nobody’s surprised. One thing is that you’re going to find that on occasion (and it’s few-and-far between) she over-enunciates some words and will rush random parts of sentences, and google tells me she’s Irish, so I get it. A word will sneak in once in a blue moon, but it’s not grating, not in the least, but it’s there. Anyway.

Roger Moore is solid, of course, and points to him for not slipping into Bond mode, and also for not playing it too gruff. The teen boy is a great actor as well - he can pull an angst face and verbalize frustration without it going petulant teen, which is so refreshing I cannot even. And the little girl has a slight Shirley Temple thing going on, holds her own with the adults. Thankfully the servants are all charming and several funny and endearing moments happen because of and with/about/surrounding them. (The narrator is the head butler, too - and fear not, it only happens at the top and at the finale, and are lovely bookends.)

Okay, the story: it kicks off with narration, and it is very well done and cheeky - “Once upon a time in a land called Buffalo there lived a girl names Jules...” Jules --- ::sigh:: just call her Julie, ffs --- has gotten custody of her niece and nephew (about 6 and 14, respectively) after their parents (the Mom being Jules’ sister) died earlier that year. We find her in the midst of a shitstorm because she got fired from her job (and it’s a *very* cool job), the older kid shoplifted a game, and the girl drove away their babysitter with some pranks - she’s also apparently addicted to Doritos. Clearly they’re just processing, and high props to all involved for not taking it over the top. They’re just the right amount of troubled to where it’s not eyeroll-worthy on either the bratty end or the angsty end. She looks to be about 12 years older than the boy, so that’s another reason he’s probably not so with this arrangement, but she’s not harsh with him, she actually treats him like a person and tells him why his behavior is out-of-line and punishes appropriately, reminds him he’s not the only one who lost them, doesn’t go all authoritarian on him, another pleasant change in typical fare.

We find out that their dad was the son of a Duke of some wherever over in Jolly Ol’ - and THANK YOU SCREENWRITERS for keeping it simple and not making up some ridiculously-named kingdom tucked somewhere on the planet - but he gave up the title to marry a “commoner” and moved to America. Still, they get invited to the manor (”castle”? Didn’t look castle to me, but all right) and the brother of the Dad is Heughan’s character, Ashton, with whom Jules has some chemistry, yo. They get us there fast, about 12 minutes, and again against Hallmark type, those 12 weren’t crammed to the gills with backstory and prep work, because that stuff’s gonna unfold, we’ve got an hour twenty, we’re fine.

Heughan happens to technically be a prince (the faux land this must be for isn’t mentioned, again, bless you screenwriter) and it is easily explained without unneeded detail by saying “It’s through my mother’s side”. So I don’t know if that means the kids are lil’ princes and princesses because was Dad technically a prince? Or was he a half-brother? My point is, the Prince-Princess thing was unneeded - “A Duchess For Christmas” would’ve been fine, Hallmark. I promise. And maybe that’s what the writer intended, seeing as how his working script title had nothing about Princess in it. So it was a weird “Huh?” thing that happens a decent ways into the story, so it’s like....????

The rest of the movie goes how you think, but it’s got some genuinely charming moments, and it’s *entertaining*. See, Hallmark? You can take a basic storyline and not fill it with teenage-level angst, then dip it marzipan and roll it in sprinkles. Keep. It. Simple. Let the actors do their jobs. The hijinks aren’t over-the-top, the kids act and speak like actual kids - there’s actually a few lines out of Jules that I side-eyed more. Some of the music was too cutesy-quirky for my taste, but overall, like I said above, Night. And. Day. from the majority.

The dress they put her in for the ball at the end is absolutely appropriate, it is lovely and isn’t overdone (hair, minus the clip in it, looks awful, of course) and - realistically! - it’s different from the other ladies’ without being drastically so. And also realistically, the crowd isn’t gawking because she’s now the best thing in the room, they’re gawking because a commoner is amongst them.

Here’s why this gets a 4/5, and none of these are deal-breakers, but there’s just too many to justify a 5/5:

There is a dance scene that is embarrassing for everyone. But! I’ll be honest - their laughing looked real, I bet behind-the-scenes they’d gotten tickled at something, and Heughan throws all fucks out the window at one point, and bless him, because he saved it - the both of them had enough rhythm that it wasn’t altogether hide-your-eyes worthy; the better choice would’ve been to do the waltz he was teaching her to a more modern song, different tempo than the classic (I’m going blank on it, I feel like it’s the Blue Danube, but that’s irrelevant, anyway you’ll recognize it), throw in some relaxed improv steps. Snaps also to Heughan for faking playing violin well - and snaps to the director for some clever close ups that never quiiiiite give you a look at his (again, props - moving) fingers.

Second thing - the not-quite-climax set-up. I’ve not spoiled the others on the rec list, so I won’t spoil this one, either, but at about a half-hour til the end, the script goes with a trope and I just rolled my eyes. Granted, it didn’t go melodramatic and they saved it with a touch of a twist, and it is genuinely sweet. Still. Didn’t have to go the full distance, could’ve been taken care of while she was prepping to do what she did. I know that’s cryptic, you’ll get what I mean when you watch.

Third thing - the side-plot of the whoever-she-is Duchess or Lady something that expects Heughan’s character to marry her is WAAAAAAAY too much. And it’s the actress, it’s not the lines. Her choices of delivery are just bush league, even I know better and the only thing I’ve ever acted in is a third grade play. I was a Lucy VanPelt-type character (quelle surprise) and I kicked ass.

Other things: that whole “Huh? Prince, what?” stuff, and I could’ve done with a touch less shmoop ending, but the narration saved it.

Okay! There you go! A good princess movie! The rest are garbage.

And never, ever watch “My Christmas Love”.

Love, Nash.

#11

This is it, folks, last entry. And by "folks" I mean the maybe three who are reading these, and thanks, hope you've enjoyed. But the ratio of work-to-response isn't motivating enough to continue, plus the season's about over, and besides, this has covered in the ballpark of 20-ish movies. I think. I can't be bothered to count. So here's the last speed run, I'll cover some more than others, and I'll also note one final time my Yes You Should Watch These 4-and-5 Star Rec List with any updates at the end, as well.

You'll still get a post all its own (with screencaps to paint the full picture and an official, free link of where to watch) on the fanfic-y-est ickiest of all Christmas movies ever. It is too precious for words. I can't not write about it. And on top of that, I wrote an actual fic based on the same premise, because per usual I have seen a travesty that had potential, worked it over, then said:

#humbly

And without further adieu: here's your speed round of the ones to avoid at all cost (the 1 and 2 stars) and a handful that were all right, I thought, but when it comes down to it are a matter of taste and you may love them (the 3 stars). Oh, and spoilers in several places, because it's not going to matter because on tons of these you'll either (a) guess it yourself or (b) shouldn't waste your time.

I’m saving you, here.

Christmas in Angel Falls (Rachel Boston [a-gaaaaaaaain] - Hallmark)

"Guardian angel Gabby Messenger is sent to the town of Angel Falls to restore its Christmas spirit."

::sighs::

No.

As predicted, it was pure schmaltz (my note actually says "suicide by schmaltz") and the usually charming Boston was annoying as hell.

1/5 stars . A Royal New Year's Eve (Jessy Schram - Hallmark)

This one was so grating. There's a prince, she's a fashion designer, it has a bit of a Cinderella undertone (if you watch it you'll see what I mean, there's some boss as pseudo-stepmother and friend as fairy godmother and dressmaking and hidden identity action sprinkled in) and know right now that the prince's accent is inexcusable, it is ear-burning. I looked the guy up because I had to know his nationality, to make sure that I wasn't off the beam and that this was just some weird subset of fill-in-the-bank accent to which I was unfamiliar, but nah, he's from goddamn Milwaukee. That a dialect coach or the director or SOMEBODY didn't speak up is embarrassing, I hope he realizes now and doesn't have this on his reel. And as always, Jessy Schram is dialed to 11 on her typical coked-up mouse with flippy hair routine.

1/5 stars . Four Christmases and a Wedding (Nobody you'll know - Lifetime)

What? Huh? So the premise is he just keeps leaving for work and showing up again at the town Christmas festival with the shitty prom that happens afterward that they call a "ball" and I assure you it is not. They also kinda blew their wad in the title. Also-also, she's Perfect McBody but has had attached to her the trope of I LOVE FOOD GIVE ME ALL THE EATS which personally makes me sick.

1/5 stars . Christmas Everlasting (Tatyana Ali, Dennis Haysbert - Hallmark)

I mentioned this one in passing in an early entry, it's based on a book, so... not "original" totally. Here's why this one doesn't get onto the rec list - it's predictable. It's well-acted, but the story was weak, and I saw the "twist" coming a mile away, and granted - as stated prior somewhere in past entry - I happen to be bizarrely good at that, but I feel like you'd see it, too. Again, this could be the "fault" of the book, I don't know, I've never read it (it's called "The Other Sister", btw), I just judge the movie. Anyhow, it's the same ol' same ol' of big city gal comes home, dead family member (aforementioned sister - you know this immediately though, not a spoiler ), but rekindled lurve, and hey, she's gonna stay for good this time! Bonus appearance of Patti LaBelle, though, which is a bright spot.

The thing that worked my nerves the most was that they inexplicably got actors to play the main folks in flashbacks to 10 years ago who look *nothing* like Ali and the lead male (whose name I unfortunately didn't note, but he was familiar to me), and I'm not just talking hair, that and clothes are what they're supposed to do for changes in time period, I'm talking distinct facial structure and skin tone and height. It was, on god, the most bizarre "young actor analog" (for lack of knowing another way of putting it) that I have ever seen on film in my life, I'm not exaggerating. The genuine, heartfelt acting of Ali and co. is what gets this bumped to a 3 vs. a 2, because I didn't think it was a *complete* waste of time, despite the meh story.

3/5 stars . Santa's Boots (Megan Hilty - Lifetime)

These are my notes verbatim:

--> family department store --> hot flannel Santa --> tree farm --> exec who comes home to save the family business and she's gonna stay 4eva! --> wtf do the boots have to do with anything, I don't.... --> 2/5 stars - 1 b/c hot flannel Santa - should be 1 star . A Christmas Arrangement (it doesn't matter - Hallmark)

Flower shop, check. "Arrangement", get it? ::sigh:: You'll just *love* the first ten minutes, where the lead says "no" and rebuffs and in general tries to get away from this dude about a zillion times. Byeeeeee! Nash will be out after the first 15 mins (I give these 15 mins before bailing), guaranteed. [time passes] I was right. Angel Anna (a.k.a. the real Anael, thankyouverymuch) co-stars, and she's a better actress than the lead, who is absolutely grating in every way. Oh, and the font on the flower shop delivery van is Comic Sans.

1/5 stars . Every Christmas Has A Story (Lori Laughlin, Colin Ferguson, and Willie Aames who, it should be noted, has not aged poorly nor has he had obvious plastic surgery yet at the same time looks nothing like himself so figure that one out - Hallmark)

This should've been called Christmas In Hollyvale (I *think* that was the town), but whatever, she's a reporter and he's her producer, so "story". Get it? GET IT?! Lori Laughlin does not age, and Colin Ferguson can pull a face and inject snark on Jensen-levels, and they have great chemistry, both are funny, and are great actors, then there's Doug ("The Crew") who is a delight. The hotel attendant is a bit annoying. The "mystery" she solves is meh. And though the overall premise is fine, the pacing is sloggy, but it's not necessarily a complete waste of your time because your two leads are such great actors.

3/5 stars . Now, here's one that's terrifically bad that I actually suggest you *might* want to watch because while it's not the jaw-dropping holy shit this is stupid ride that will be the final entry, this one's pretty fucking fan-fic-y and should give you some snickers:

A Cinderella Christmas (the chick from Once Upon A Time In Wonderland with lips that look so fake I hope they’re not real because otherwise bless her heart, Mindy Cohn, and doesn't matter - ION)

There is a get-together they have chosen to call a Chrismasquerade, and technically I don't think I have to say any more. But I will. Fuck, this is amazeballs stupid. Only redeeming thing? The always-delightful Mindy Cohn is in the fairy godmother role, I love her, and she has pinky-purple hair, and I always have/always will adore her sweet face and crinkled eyes smile.

Otherwise....

--> is shite music a pre-requisite for these movies?

--> our lead has *very* distinctive lips and her hair/eyes/lips combo look *nothing* like her cousin (the stepsister sub) even behind the half-face mask, so props to the casting department for whiffing the shit out of that

--> the dude is an incredible, unlikable asshat

--> "A Snow White Christmas" is premiering after this, and it's Sunday, and I'm going to host CASPN instead, but Imma go out on a limb and say it ain't worth your time, either

1/5 stars .

Get ready: shockingly for me, I'm about to give you a pair of 3-star trope-premised movies. I know, I know, unlike me. But these actually pulled it off. The trope?

*takes deep breath*

Pretend to by my boyfriend/girlfriend for my family . (1) A Holiday Engagement (Bonnie Summerville ???, and Jordan Bridges)

It's what you think, but not for terribly flaky reasons - she *was* engaged but the dick broke up with her at Thanksgiving. And in a pleasant change of pace, she doesn't get a friend-who-will-turn-to-more to play the part, she hires an actor. Smart girl. Bridges is another one of those random actors you see off-and-on who elevates everything he is in, and the chick is great, and the family is well cast, and the waiter at the restaurant made me laugh out loud. The whole thing is snappy in pace (lil' bit of filler, but that's par for the course with these movies) and has some snappy dialogue in places, and overall it's not a waste of time, not too shmoopy.

3/5 stars . (2) Mingle All The Way (Jen Lilley, Brant Daugherty, Lindsay Wagner - Hallmark)

Inventive concept here, though they kinda shit the bed with naming their business something affiliated with Christmas if it's clearly a year-round affair, but okay. What it is: a dating app that's not a dating app, it's purely for folks who need a +1 to specifically business/work social events, but also more formal family and friend events (so, say, Christmas party where it's not just family, or friend party that's not just show up in your jeans and sweaters - the cocktail stuff, is my point). The thing is, no one is pretending to be the boyfriend or girlfriend, it's supposed to be like "And this is Susie/Steve, an associate of mine from ____ business". Nothing romantic, no false pretenses, no lying to others (well... not supposed to wink-wink).

The chick - who runs the biz/came up with it/helped develop it - is needing to take on investors, and one of them is like "Sold! But can I get some firsthand testimonial? Have you yourself tested your product?" and since she's got shit coming up on her agenda, she does. Plus, her mom's on her ass about working so much and not dating since a bad breakup years ago, and it's compounded because baby sister just got engaged. (Mom is bionic woman Lindsay Wagner. She's not really bionic. Google it, youths.)

Dude is in a situation where he's not advancing at work because scuzzy kiss ass co-worker is shmoozing with boss during off hours because boss doesn't invite the single people to brunch or whatever with him and his wife, he's only inviting the ones who he knows has a partner to bring. I know to some of you this may sound absolutely ridiculous but, um, I've experienced this many times. This is not out of the realm. Not even a little bit. I had a gay boss who understood how this happens (likely because he experienced it) and he was wonderful about including everybody. Otherwise, yeah, I been there. I've digressed.

The leads have good chemistry, there was great snark and back-and-forth when they met each other a couple times prior to the set-up ('cause you guessed it: the app paired them with a high %age of compatibility - his sister suggested he do it after he heard about it on the news and he told her of his situation) and they click really well. There's touches of shmoop, of course, but this was an above-average story amongst the typical Christmas dreck, so it makes the rec list at 4/5 stars.

Your rec list is now:

(5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark)

(5 of 5) Love At The Christmas Table (Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark)

(4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime)

(4 of 5) Mingle All The Way (Jen Lilley, Brant Daugherty, Lindsay Wagner - Hallmark)

That's all, kiddos! See you next time for the worst of the worst, complete with screencaps. You will *not* be disappointed.

#10

Okay, if I'm gonna get to the fanfic-y-est of all the Christmas movies - and it will easily take up an entire post - we gotta tear through a bunch because the season's almost over and you're not gonna have time to avoid/find these, depending. So we'll hit a high point first (because I've added to the 4-to-5 stars you-should-actually-watch-these rec list), and tear through a bag of mixed nuts, including the third David Haydn-Jones... treat... nah, this third one is the best (?) so far... though, um, that ain't saying much. Woof. Yeesh.

As a reminder - 3/5 means they aren't exactly a waste of time, 2/5 are debatable/up to personal taste, and of course 1/5 means I will never get that time back and I'm that much closer to death because of the movie and what it drained from my soul.

Let's kick off with one that may be my favorite, and got a 5/5 score, update the ol' You Should Definitely Watch This rec list...

Love At The Christmas Table

(Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson, the guy who played Luke on Gilmore Girls, several character actors you'll recognize, and the lead dude is familiar too though his name doesn't ring bells - Lifetime)

Look, from what I can recall, ol' Danica was fine in "Wonder Years", but as I mentioned in a past post, something has happened over the years and girl can't act. It's distractingly bad, because she's typically paired with heavy-hitters (even if they aren't well known). So I'm not sure if it's that she and the lead male really clicked or she really clicked with the director, but it was night and day. This movie is also from 2012, so maybe it's just been tough going acting-wise since then. In any event, don't let any other of my other reviews of her dissuade.

But the script and the direction are both *fantastic*, and I suspect it's partly because the concept was kept nice and basic: A man realizes that his best friend since childhood is the one. Boom. Lots of room to get some good character development and plot progression, and they did, since it's not bogged down with a bunch of extraneous stuff.

There is so much delight packed into the first half hour, you will be grinning. The execution of it is nicely done, too - as we go through the years, each Christmas is prefaced by "Age ___" to let you know how much time has passed, and they look subtly different in appearance and attitude each time. The parents are phenomenal, you're going to enjoy each one of them. The interactions between all parties feel real. And more on feels, this almost feels like a play - it takes place in a house for like, 90% of the movie. But every set is very cozy and crowded with things and/or people (in a good way), and nothing seems like it was perfectly placed, it's how these locations would actually realistically look.

The worst thing I can say about this movie is that I really wish the two leads were other people. They had fantastic friend chemistry, but I tell ya, not a ton of spark when it started bending romantic. And there are plenty of actors who look younger than their age, and maybe that's what this needed, more mature actors who could realistically be shown as teens with some sweet hair/make-up magic. Or, again, could be Danica. I don't know. But she comes across *legions* more relaxed in front of the camera here than in others I've seen her in, so that little bump in road aside (and truly, it's not intolerable - it's noticeable, that possibly poor casting of them, but it's not going to pull you out of the story).

You're going to love the last fifteen minutes, what she does for her dad, how he's walking and talking with his parents when she sees what----- I can't say it. I *genuinely* do not want to spoil this for you. And then the very-very ending is *chef's kiss*.

I want you to watch this movie, especially you who are fans of friends-to-more. Because, I mean, there's a STORY, thank you lord. It's not regurgitated same-ol', same-ol'. This is a really great character-driven piece, and honestly? I wish it had gotten optioned to be on the big screen. I think it could've really been included with other heart-grabbing, fan-favorite romantic Christmas movies.

5/5 stars

The (now newly) updated rec list of well-worth-your-timers:

(5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark) (5 of 5) Love At The Christmas Table (Danica McKellar, Lea Thompson - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime)

Christmas At The Palace (Not a person you'll have ever seen or heard of, ever - Hallmark)

I've regrettably watched "Christmas At The Palace" once through completely, and three times caught blocks of it because I basically leave these channels on all day, then when I pass by the remote, I'll flip through the main four giving us "originals" (Hallmark, Hallmark Movies & Mysteries, Lifetime, and the JV team over on ION), and that's that. This one has clearly been on *constantly*. And it sucks. Not one person - I'm not exaggerating - not *one* *person* in this movie can act. If you've ever imagined yourself in a movie or TV show and thought it impossible? Please let this movie give you hope. You can do it. Someone hired these people, they'll hire you.

Gives me hope writing wise, as well. What a septic tank of a script. Check it: once again we find ourselves in a royal circumstance where the prince is widowed or needs to get married because of blah-blah-law-queen -and-king -insist, who cares. This time though, he gets his Christmas boner --- I MEAN --- spirit via a former almost not quite professional ice skater. Seriously, they make a point to say she didn't make the Olympic team and isn't on the pro circuit, she choreographs for this travelling show thing. I mean characters with flaws, sure, but they shit on her in the first fifteen minutes. The whole movie in its entirety is embarrassing to watch. There is minor redemption in the (standard) best friends (one for each of the leads). They are.... tolerable. That's it, I almost said "okay", but I can't because they're so grating in most of their scenes.

And the two main gals? The lead and the best friend? Won't. Quit. Fucking. Smiling. I'm not exaggerating this - they are smiling easily 90% of the time. It is incredibly irritating. And there is zeeeeeeero chemistry between the prince and the ice skater.

Skip it. I can find something that's garbage enjoyable in a So Bad It's Entertaining way, but this one is absolute stank garbage, and they are pimping it like it's the second coming.

1/5 stars

. Christmas In Tennessee (Rachel Boston [again], Andrew Walker, some kid with really jacked teeth, Caroline Rhea, and Patricia Richardson - Lifetime)

Aw, shit. Here we go. After the Graceland one with Kellie Pickler (which you'll not see me report on here because I couldn't sit still long enough to watch it because she can sing, but she sure as shit can't act) my hopes are not high, though they *were* renewed to a great degree with "Every Other Christmas", which if you'll recall is on my rec list for you.

Bakery. Christmas pageant. Real-estate suits coming after the teensy town to build a ski resort. One of them is cute man. She is cute baker. She is also a single mom. And there's a mysterious sweet woman "Mrs. C" who *loves* the cookies - and so did her husband "Kris" [wink-wink]

:: sighs ::

At least nobody's trying and failing to fake a Southern accent, god and small favors and all that.

Listen, all I want is for there to be some originality. That's it. I'm not looking for perfection, I mean, that's subjective, after all. (Well.) Just fucking... I mean, look: don't make her a single mom, to start. Don't make her a baker, second. Keep your ski lodge in small town thing, fine, that's the conflict between them. But hey, what if she's the mayor? Have a Leslie Knope, politics-oriented, civil-service type as the lead character. Somebody who can go toe-to-toe and not have to sugar-sweet-charm her way around shit.

In any event, good acting from the leads, Caroline Rhea and Patricia Richardson are always good in everything, and there's some nice snappy dialogue. It's not too terribly saccharine. Fuck, fine, I'll stick it on the not a waste of time list it unless something goes way haywire. [time passes] Okay. I has a lil' smile on my face. It actually didn't typical too-too hard. The lead actors were great, everything seemed easy and casual between them. Too bad the plot was weak. Still though, didn't leave me feeling it was a total waste of time.

3/5 stars .

~ Let's do an Alicia Witt Trifecta! ~

. Christmas at Cartwright's (Alicia Witt - Hallmark)

"Nicky is a single mother, unemployed and broke at Christmas and desperate to find a job in order to make her young daughter's holiday a happy one. With the aid of an angel, she gets a job as a department store Santa." - It is pure cheese. Alicia Witt should stick with drama, hundred percent, it is astounding how pedestrian her acting skills become when she has to get sweet/touching/emotional in the absence of any heart-grabbing stakes (think Lily Sunder). So anyhow, this is some piss-poor amalgam of Miracle on 34th and It's A Wonderful Life, but I'm giving an extra star because kudos for making the chick the Santa.

2/5 stars . Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane (Alicia Witt, Colin Ferguson, Laura Leighton - Hallmark)

This almost got off the naughty list purely because Colin Ferguson is a fucking delight in everything he's in, he's one of those "elevators" as I call them - Mark Sheppard is another good example - because they elevate anything they're in, however shlocky, and if it's actually good, they help make it even better. This, according to my notes, is "exposition dumps coated in cheese", and it's that ol' chestnut of the saving the family home and oh noes dead parents and big city gal back in town and wow she's gonna stay! You've seen many iterations of this movie, don't bother. The house is fabulous, though, I'd live in it in a hot second.

2/5 stars (and that 2nd star is only for Ferguson - as stated before, Witt should stick to drama vs. awwww stuff)

. A Very Merry Mix-Up (Alicia Witt - Hallmark)

Once again, please welcome Alicia, this time en route to meet her future in-laws as a surprise to announce the engagement (well, and that he's been dating someone at all - he's a work-a-holic who never gets home much - matter of fact, he's stuck finishing up a deal and has to meet her there vs. ride together) and "through a serendipitous series of events" has to ride along with a dude who turns out to be her future bro-in-law, who proceeds to wreck her phone with a drink, and then wreck the car because he's distracted. The MD at the hospital tells them not to sleep for the next 24 hours and that they need constant monitoring.

(Couple things while I have you: The former is an old wives' tale, and as for the latter, if they need constant monitoring, they wouldn't be discharged, they'd be admitted for, you know, monitoring. Jeez this part was so stupid. It was so they could slumber party and bond. Because there was no other way to accomplish bonding than via stupid car wreck and representing med professionals as stupid. ::sighs::)

You know, this would be a great movie if the plot was that she was a con artist. It's not. But wouldn't that be great? And the romance comes in when she has a change of heart because shmoop-shmoop-shmoop first family Christmas she's ever experienced? WHY AM I NOT A SCREENWRITER HOW DO I SUBMIT THINGS TO PEOPLE

Anyway, we find out fiance is scum, and later we see that his family is stiff and cold and miserable and a bit *too* much of a contrast to the other family. There's a cookie baking scene, check. The leads have pretty good chemistry, though. But oh, quelle horror! Name mix-up! Wrong family! Oh noes! Anyway there's a thing with a story about grandparents and a clock that's legit creative and sweet... but at the very end, I don't get why t.f. he didn't put the ring they found on her finger. This movie isn't a complete waste of time, there's just some choices in there that they whiffed that could've made it something special.

3/5 stars

. Hey! Let's do another like that - but oh boy does this one take a turn.

Dashing Through The Snow (Meghan Ory, Andrew Walker)

You'll recognize Walker from the Tennessee movie with Rachel Boston, he's the one with the cheekbones you could cut diamonds on (no seriously, it's just skin on skull, it's mesmerizing) and you know Ory from lots of other stuff. Be warned: she is annoying as all-get-out in this movie, and it's tolerable, but it spikes every now and again into the I Want To Shake You territory.

This one is bugfuck bananas, and I am here for it.

So it's a eye-roll premise, she gets stuck when her flight reservation gets screwed and then there's no rentals so she and this guy who are going in the same direction agree to share a rental.

Here's the thing: she's gonna work your nerves, I'll tell you up front. She's this whimsical perky but anal retentive ball of AAAAHHHHHH!!! SHUT UP!!!! that made me quit watching this movie the first time. I went back to it when it re-ran for one reason, and one reason only, and it is this:

After she makes a fuss at the counter to the attendant at the airport about her reservation being fucked up, when attendant is on the phone, she sneaks through to get to the other side (because, y'know - this is the Get On Plane side, over yonder is the Get Off Plane Side where it's easier to get to rental car vs. walking across the airport), and we learn that attendant wouldn't let her board and lied about the whatever was wrong and is on phone because homeland security or feds or whatever are there because some chick with her same name is an international criminal.

Phew! Out of breath.

Now, you have to overlook the fact of why would an international criminal who knows how to evade authorities all the sudden (a) use her real name and (b) make a fuss/a scene and (c) get herself caught all over cameras so that the authorities now know what she looks like for the first time in years. I'm warning you now. I know. I *know*. It's a piss-poor way of going about this, even though it does get explained in, like, the last 40 minutes and with a "Really?" sort of reasoning. But, interesting and unique plot, so I'll take it. There’s also a wonderfully cute puppy who lights up the screen, totes steals the show.

So, there's a "twist" that I didn't find to be twisty, I called it the moment ___ interact early on, but that's okay, I can let that go, I guess the endings of easily 95% of movies I watch (blessing/curse). But - AGAIN! - interesting and unique plot, so I'll take it. Only reason it didn't make a 3 is how annoying Ory's character is, and how stupidly they portray the FBI, with not listening to their top agent when he says "We're wrong - she had her identity stolen - call off the op." It’s not a “1″ but it may be a “3″ for you, you’ll have to make the call. But for me....

2/5 stars

. Hope at Christmas (The lead chick is familiar, her name is Scottie Thompson - Hallmark)

Single mom! Precocious daughter! Returns home to deal with dead grammy's house! Meet cute in bookstore! Mom not terribly into Christmas because kid will be with her dad! She slowly gets back into it! Plans on going back to big city! Ends up staying! Because lurve!

None of the acting was bad (I mean, the little girl is annoying after awhile), but as noted, the story is the same as most others. You make the call, folks. And you'll be able to, I've caught it airing after my initial viewing no less than four or five times, no joke.

2/5 stars . The Sweetest Christmas (Lacy Chabert - Hallmark)

This is about a gingerbread contest. It is boring as fuck. Skip anything involving Lacey Chabert, trust me, this is the only one I managed to make it all the way through, and believe me when I say it was touch-and-go, I had to make myself in order to give her a fair shake. I've never thought she could act, though, to me her voice is less delicate and more whiny, and besides, she's Poor Man's Jennifer Love Hewitt #sorry not sorry

1/5 stars . Just In Time For Christmas (Doesn't matter, though William Shatner does show up driving a horse-drawn carriage - Lifetime)

Meet Lindsay, a young - too young to be up for tenure, bee-tee-dubs - psychology professor has to choose between a book deal and tenure track at a prestigious university versus accepting the marriage proposal from her longtime, totally adores, really loves him (they are VERY pointed about establishing this) boyfriend. But hey, screenwriters, got a thought, and hear me out: why not both? But I get it, since this movie is from 1975, oh shit sorry, 2015. Yeah, no. Pass.

1/5 stars

. And finally, DHJ. This is gonna be short and sweet, because on the whole, it blew. But I'll tell you when/where you can watch the fourth, since I won't be covering it and it's gonna come on at an ungodly hour and I likely won't watch it. It sounds like ass.

A Bramble House Christmas (David Haydn-Jones, Autumn Reeser - Hallmark)

The premise is he's a children's book illustrator who comes to this little town under the guise of getting inspo for his next book, but really he's supposed to be confronting the nurse's aid to whom his now-deceased (and estranged) father left a shitton of cash, giving her an injunction (to the will) on behalf of himself and his sister.

But then, lurve. :::sigh:::

Understand up front that this is an hour's worth of "movie" that was stretched into 2 hours, man oh MAN did it drag. And there's all the typical: ice skating where one person sucks; cookie baking; tree decorating (with garish, not subtly-done product placement); also tree in the town square that is visited and "oooh"-ed upon; and precocious child with some oh-noes-sick-kid frosting on top. It is dreck. The premise, sure, okay, that's decently original, but the rest of the story is basic bitch in a bow.

At fifteen til quittin' time, it got straight dumb. She rushes off after she finds out the truth - on Christmas Farging Eve - packing up her and the kid and saying they're off to the airport. How? What? You got no ticket, bitch, where the fuck do you think you're going? Ugh. Idiotic.

One thing, though: if you can get to this in a manner that you can skip to about the 45 minute mark, do it. There is a *moment*. The way DHJ can pull an old Hollywood leading man *look* that says "My dear, I want to kiss you, and well" is a sight to behold.

2/5 stars (one of which is automatic, because DHJ elevates everything he’s in) . You can see the fourth DHJ movie - A Cookie Cutter Christmas - on Hallmark at 1 a.m. CST on Saturday the 22nd of December.

One last entry (#11, tomorrow or Sunday) then a #12 all its own for the pièce de résistance. I'm not overselling it. It is deliciously ridiculous.

Candace Cameron Collection check-in: "Switched For Christmas" is absolute nutterbutters. It is ridiculous and it knows it, so it goes full throttle. I am really impressed with her acting, doing the identical twin thing must be a bitch and a half to film, and she pulls it off. The split screens are well done, too, and not just for TV movie, I mean it's good-good. I'm telling you nothing about the plot. It's sugary sweet, you'll get cavities, and it's not my jam but I couldn't turn it off so that means.... something, I don't know. There was no wine involved, I swear. It's on Lifetime.

But nevermind all that: I know I promised the fanfic movie to end all fanfic movies, but I'd forgotten I promised *before* that to talk about the next David Haydn-Jones feature.

So, last night (read: early this morning, and as of this writing so it may not have been last night at the time you read this) when insomnia struck (read: woke me out of a dead sleep to say HEY IT'S 2 A.M. AND SHIT'S KICKING OFF ON HALLMARK), I groggily turned on the TV at about 15 after, and to what my wondering eyes did appear?

Hoo-boy. The look on his face says it all.

Now, as you know, initially DHJ tried to dodge my investigation. It did not work. And I found him trapped between an over-the-cute-line-into-annoying cotton-topped child and Winnie Cooper in "My Christmas Dream" (Hallmark).

And sweet babby jeebus, did he carry this movie.

I like Danica McKellar in real life - not from having met her or something, I mean because she's a giant ol' nerd, she's a mathematical genius, legit (look it up, I can't do everything, I'm shouldering these movies, my brain can't handle it) and she *sparkles* in interviews. Having said that, she's got Claire Novak Syndrome. Put the actress who plays Claire (I can never remember her name, I've no idea why) in front of a camera and it's all dolly dead-eyes, one trick pony angst... and in everything I've seen her in, I've talked about it before, I won't rehash. Danica’s opposite in that she’s ooooooooverdoing everything. I would actually take some flatness. But it’s still Claire Novak syndrome because something fucking happens when the camera starts rolling and it goes unnatural and awkward to watch. Dunno what it’s about. Who cares, not why we’re here.

Anyway, I am only touching on this movie for DHJ purposes, otherwise I wouldn't bother, it’s not worth the time to watch or tell you about, truly. It’s not the worst, but even he seems to be phoning it in for the most part. So. She's a department store exec and he's an artist that's been doing handyman work, they hook up when his *incredibly* annoying child somehow gets to the store on his own to ask if his dad can work there, she gets him home, her car battery's dead, flirting ensues, blah blah biscuits, stir and bake til crispy, and it'll still be sloggy goo in the middle. It's just straight dumb. Don't waste your time. They have negative-integer chemistry, it's pretty embarrassing to watch, honestly.

1 out of 5 stars, and that 1 is all for DHJ.

That was short, let's pop off a couple more:

Marry Me At Christmas (I didn't note the network or the "stars")

Horrid hair gal meets sentient Ken doll-Archie Andrews hybrid whilst planning his sister's wedding on the fly. Small charming town. He's big city, Hollywood, specifically. Yes, it's the prince and the commoner tale but instead of a prince he's a movie star. Cue the blecccchh. As it's called Marry Me At Christmas, they kinda blew their wad in the title, the sister's wedding goes through as planned, so no drama ahead there.

I really can't say enough about how badly they did her hair. She's got super-curly hair naturally, and I'm not a hairdresser and even *I* know the answer isn't Weigh It Down With Product And Hard, Then Don't Even Finger-Comb It, So It Lays Flat Pancake From Scalp To Ear, Then In Creepy Porcelain Doll Spirals To Shoulders. She looks great when she's in a hat and it's an outdoor scene and it gets tousled. But it's distracting the rest of the time, is my point. Oh, then they inexplicably straighten it for the wedding - curly hair can look *gorgeous* in a formal updo. The one time they didn't leave it curly.

Yes, this is the only thing worth discussing in the entire movie. Not even worth the bingo card. 1 out of 5 stars.

Speaking of hair:

Entertaining Christmas (Hallmark) - Jodie Sweetin, Brenden Fehr

Her hair, it's all I can focus on - it's this weird Southern mom bouffy thing when it's not pulled back somehow. Also distracting - and this is a lovely woman, if you've not seen her since she was a child on Full House - are the ill-fitting, unflattering clothing they've put her in. It appears Ms. Sweetin and I share an affliction of the stems, that being... (deep breath) ...hi my name is Nash and I have the legs of a linebacker. It's true. And not a ton of muscle definition, because when I do? Hoo-boy. Heavy-duty linebacker. Best they're left alone.

Point is, if gals like us do skirts, it ain't flattering to go above the knee, it's just not, it wrecks the silhouette and makes our already chunky-monkey legs look even bigger. And dammit if they didn't do it to her, and not even bother to put her in tights. This woman has huge hooters and a tiny waist, they could've had her rocking some crisp black slacks or a pencil skirt that hit mid calf and a snug lil' cashmere sweater and BOOM, you're channeling Mansfield and Monroe. Bonus that she's a natural blonde. But no, let's put her in matronly above-the-knee shapeless polyester-looking dresses. Ugh.

Okay, anyway - this is actually a decently inventive plot: she's the daughter of a Martha Stewart type, and she's "poised to be the new face of the brand" - problem is she suuuuuucks at all the cookie making and knitting and whatever. She's also of the thought that imperfections and unique family traditions are more awesome than the largely unattainable perfect-perfect blah-blah from mommy's magazine. I'll give them this: the mom is awesome and nice and kind and understanding, they were smart not to cliche it up and make her a hardass.

But even though it was a creative plot, it just slogs and is so bleh. If you haven't guessed the ending by that synopsis, I don't know what. It's, um... I mean... it's not great, but may appeal to some, so I didn't put it in the This Is A Horrific Attempt At A Nice Lil' Christmas Movie pile. Take that as you will.

Let us end on a semi-positive note:

Christmas Pen-Pals (Lifetime) - Sarah Drew (who?), character actor you'll recognize immediately (for those of a certain age, it's the dad from Family Ties), other people you'll never have seen before in your life

This should've been called Christmas Cupids because it's about a thing called Christmas Cupids. The people behind these movies are *killing* me.

This one's good, and mainly because the premise is great, it's about secret santa in a potentially match-making way, but hey could also make a good friend. The set-up is that Drew chick is a total brain and she wrote an algorithm for a match-making app but it's so scientific it's boring and as her business partner at said app company put it, it takes away the spark. Which is kinda dumb, because you get the spark when meeting the other person, ain't none of these dating apps giving you in-person spark. Whatever, they're losing users so they need a kick. I missed the part about how she re-worked an electronic app into handwritten letters, but that's neither here-nor-there.

I'm not gonna tell you who she ends up with - you'll guess it nearly immediately, don't worry - but know that even though it's predictable, there's several really sweet and unique moments that I haven't seen in all these other 50,000 carbon-copy Christmas movies. The acting on the part of our leading lady is a little extra, and the other lead is a little flat, and the flow/cadence to the story isn't quiiiiiiite there, but I'm giving it 3/5 stars, so it's not on the rec list, but not a waste of your time.

And just to recap the rec list thus far...

(4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime) (5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark)

We'll see about doing a rapid-fire round-up next time, and maybe doing The Christmas Fanfic Movie That Out-Fanfics All The Fanfics And The Christmas Movies, but I legit want to watch it all the way through (I only caught the last half) so I can make sure I'm reporting accurately to the three people who are reading these (not bitter don't care doing it anyway).

I'm not overselling this, by the way. I'm not. It is *deliciously* bad.

Okay, as a reminder, the only movies which I've given over 3 stars/would actually recommend you spend your time on (and keeping in mind that a "5" does not mean it's a great movie, it just means it's not overly sad nor overly shmoopy, and doesn't hit a grotesque amount of recycled plots on the bingo card) are: . (4 of 5) Every Other Christmas (Schuyler Fisk, Dee Wallace - Lifetime) (4 of 5) Operation Christmas (Tricia Helfer, Marc Blucas - Hallmark) (4 of 5) A Very Nutty Christmas (Melissa Joan Hart, Barry Watson - Lifetime) (5 of 5) The Christmas Ornament (Kellie Martin, Cameron Mathison, Jewel Staite - Hallmark) . Those last two we haven't talked about yet, so I'll cover 'em at the end of this entry - first we're gonna shoot through the ones that aren't a complete waste of time and have recycled shtick, true, but aren't teeth grinding due to the acting or directing or whatnots.

And we're doing this because next update, I'm going to spend the whole thing on where you can find the Whyenne some of you love so dearly, you reblog her every chance you get. It's her. It. Is. HER. Every mannerism, every word, every---- well, I'm spoiling. That's for next time.

Okay, these are all in the 2-to-3 Nash star ballpark...

Dear Secret Santa (Tatyana Ali, Lamorne Morris) --> there's too much singing for padding the runtime --> you may like it more/find it more satisfying than Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves "The Lake House", and that's all I'm telling you plot-wise

Kristin's Christmas Past (Shiri Appleby) --> it's exactly what you think it's about by the title --> there's a really cute, snicker-worthy scene near the start with her younger self, and part of it reminds me of the vibe of the rapid-fire convo in Mystery Spot

A Twist of Christmas (Vanessa Lachey, and someone called Brandon Zub - I think - who is delightful) --> A dad and a mom are shopping for their kids and their bags get mixed up and blah-blah-blah ensues because they're opposites in many ways, but I didn't find it terribly grating --> it's an adorable sort-of snarky-sweet

Road To Christmas (Jessy Schram, Chad Michael Murray) --> nice premise, he's a good actor, and she's... well... ::sigh:: --> this chick in everything I've seen her in... she apparently has one gear, and that gear is coked-up mouse that skitters everywhere with her barrel-curled hair vibrating around her head... but in this one, she chills as the movie goes, so it's tolerable

A Christmas to Remember (Mira Sorvino, Cameron Mathison) ---> This aaaaalmost got on the rec list but I can't because the plot is weaksauce "Overboard" (80s movie, Goldie Hawn & Kurt Russell, it's hilarious)... -->...but it wasn't the worst, because these two are such good actors, they sell it, and it's sweet, and keeps good pace, so there ya go

Okay, to the goods - next time we'll talk about the ass disasters - and one specifically that I 100% guarantee the fluff fans amongst us will love, despite my ripping it a new one. Which I'm going to do. Because of all these I've watched, the one we'll talk about legit flabbergasted me on many levels.

A Very Nutty Christmas

I am slightly biased because Melissa is a friend of a friend (sister-in-law, specifically) and she is good people, a hard worker, and a smart (heh) cookie. She knows what roles she nails (sharp wit, no shmoop, strong chicks), so that's what projects she and her mother choose (they produce most everything Melissa's in), she stays in her lane, is my point, so if you agree with that assessment, then you're good to go, this is classic Melissa Joan Hart fare.

She's a baker, but not some "Waahhh this is hard" sort, and there's no competition, it's nothing but what you'd expect - lotsa cookie orders at Christmastime, but again, she's not super-duper stressed, she’s got the appropriate level of “let’s go, people!”. Now, here's the cheese that I don't want to chase you away: her decorative Nutcracker comes to life (Barry Watson) and helps her out.

I know, I knoooow. And listen, at the first scene with him, you're gonna think that Barry'll be working your nerves through the rest - I sure as shit did - but stick with it, he ends up being very charming. You may actually be wooed. The character is completely sincere in all he does and says, and you’re happy to see her have this sort of person in her life, because she puts a lot on herself, and boy is that totally relatable.

Other good stuff is you'll recognize all the secondary characters (their actors, I mean), with the exception of the ex boyfriend, but he's well cast, he doesn't play the smarmy too heavily. There's also a good song behind the (standard) montage for once, and smart smart smart is their limited usage of Tchaikovsky outside of the blip of the ballet that we see. And kudos for that, too, limiting the ballet's role in the movie.

The whole thing is tied up with a very satisfying ending. It's fluff done right....

The Christmas Ornament

....and here's angst done right.

This isn’t about an ornament being magical or something how you might think from the title, I promise. It’s significant, but not in some otherworldly way. The situation(s) are absolutely plausible, it’s a believable story, and there’s not all this exposition that explains the characters’ backgrounds, it all unfolds organically, and you’re honest-to-god rooting for them, no matter if the story has them together at the end or not - you’re gonna find yourself saying “I’m okay with this happening for them either way, whether they stay friends or if it evolves.” On that note, kudos to the writer: Cameron’s character is very empathetic and doesn’t push Kellie’s character, not even once - he pushes her to get “out there” and interact with people and be social more than she has been, yes, but in a good friend sort of way (and Jewel’s character is doing the same - it’s in the “we care about you” way).

And this movie looks *fantastic*. The cinematographer and editor gave it big-deal-theater-movie-level treatment, no kidding. Some beautiful shots, especially some lingering ones at the ice rink. Bless the music supervisors, too - no shitty distracting music, and no one (if memory serves) sang for an extended period of time, if at all (I really don’t think anyone sang). Jewel Staite is a treasure, and for once the side-friend was actually necessary to the story, she was well-used.

I also liked it because Kellie’s character is self-assured in many ways, fragile in some ways - in other words, she’s real and she’s relatable. I took issue with one teensy thing, I didn’t track with how it was she was the one to apologize for a misunderstanding, because she actually wasn’t far off base; what she thought made sense for (1) how he’d behaved toward her, and (2) what she’d seen, and (3) what she knew because of what he’d told her prior. In any event, that’s the only real “flaw” (and it could just be a Nash thing) that I saw. This one’s well worth your time.

This entry’s about “Dear Santa” (Lifetime), part of the David Haydn-Jones quadrangle Christmas tangle. The plot sounds decent - cheese, but decent. I love Amy Acker, and I love DHJ, this should be a cakewalk.

[15 mins.in] Oh. Oh, my.

Yeah, I'm busting out the Cheesy Christmas Movie Bingo Card, it'll be at the end. Let's see if we can get a win. At a minimum, I think we're gonna be checking a lotta boxes.

Other than our leads, we have poor man's Sean Hayes as gay best friend (h/t @butiaintgonnaloveem) on the scene, and he's outfitted in hot pink chef gear - AT THE SOUP KITCHEN - so that everybody's clear he's a card-carrying member of The Gay.

Shitty acoustic guitar riffs, cool.

Precocious child plays the flute... and shittily.

There's a homeless man whose shtick is that he won't come inside, never a roof over his head again, and I wanna know (do I?) where he's taking his dumps.

Related, the music continues to be shitty, and I mean toilet-clogging.

Ice skating "lesson", check.

Holy fucknoodles, two grown women are in a food fight. I do not get why Dollar Store Justine Bateman (the snippy girlfriend, the one that is so off-putting it is beyond the realm of possibility that this kindhearted and jovial man is even remotely interested in her despite knowing each other a long time) is so vitriolic, as she's known Amy Acker about five minutes.

THIS MUSIC

Christmas wish, check.

The green screen effect behind rich mommy checking in from the Caribbean is such ass, I am shocked. You Tubers have better green screens. How do you fuck up a green screen? You're a goddamn cable channel whose focus is movies. TV local news manages to do it with weatherpeople multiple times a day.

Acker and Jones save this dreck. The kid ain't half-bad, either. But they are the types of actors that everything out of their mouths just flows so naturally, even when the plot is ass. I love this Angel-SPN match-up.

JEEBUS HAROLD CRICKET he just said that they are *five* *figures* *deep* in back rent on the soup kitchen and - I quote - "I guess the bank's out of good will". DO YOU THINK?!

"I thought little girls loved to play the flute" is a line that was just uttered, and bless DHJ for actually getting it past his lips.

I forgot to mention, Acker's displayed some guilt a couple times now because earlier, there was a meet-cute (okay, apparently a near-run-over) incident with a mail carrier, a letter flew out, and - I *must* quote @butiaintgonnaloveem here again - then "instead of giving it back, she commits mail fraud and opens it."

Now, the guilt is because it's the lil' tyke's letter to Santa, asking him for a new mommy (dead parent/spouse, check) and she's also feeling guilt over tracking them down (why? boredom? sure, that's gotta be the reason, because to remedy the letter situation, you glue that shit shut and stick it in a mailbox, it's just going to an incinerator at the mail station anyway), but it's this misplaced Christmas wish that perplexes me. It's not like she nicked a bill or a wedding invitation or something that's actually important.

I'M A GRINCH

Oh he owns a snowplow business? That name again is Mr. Plow (Simpson's song ref, google Mr. Plow, I'm sure it's somewhere). And it's the song I wish I was hearing, this music is eardrum-thumping. It is a slobbery wet willy. It is *achingly* bad.

He just stared longingly at her and licked his lips, FML.

Now Acker's acting like a snotface. I don't dig it. I'd be cool with her being sharp and not taking the shit from Justine but being classy about it, they've got her being balls-out bitchy.

Why is it taking so long for the wealthy girl to be like HERE IS CASH MONEY FOR YOUR SOUP KITCHEN YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE DAVID HAYDN-JONES --- like I get your charge cards or whatever are snipped, but go sell some jewelry or clothes from last season and shit.

She had the letter in her clutch? She's carrying it around with her? Why? WHY?!? I hate stupid writing. I hate it. Worse is that it's lazy. HATE. Why was it in her purse? Because someone needed to find it. And there was no other possible way to accomplish that, than having one of your leads be an absolute fuckwit, right? GRRRRRRRRRRR that stuff just works my nerves.

The confrontation scene is good. Neither are over the top.

Well how's about that? Her Christmas present check will cover the soup kitchen's debt!

Enough with the shitty guitar riffs, it's like I'm watching an SPN ep, and, no, that's not a compliment.

The longest montage for padding runtime is happening, and with another shitty song (but a tolerable one, despite the singer faking a lot of catches in her voice - I would know, I have a natural catch in my singing voice that I had to fight like a mofo for about six years in choir, but I've digressed, just tuck that nugget into your Nash file), showing Acker moping and DHJ sighing, then him running by the soup kitchen to sit in his snow plow and angst, and then....

....oh lookee there! She did the thing. Sean Hayes - in a sheer v-neck inexplicably over a long-sleeved cotton shirt like I'm presently wearing because it's what I lounge/sleep in, with a Coach neckerchief to top it all off (on god, I cannot make this up) - is now sassing DHJ, saying the letter thing was fate. And I mean... yeah, it was, right? Whatever, if DHJ was single and I had the chance, I'd be happenstancing my way near him as much as (and smoothly as, natch) possible.

I CAN BE SMOOTH SHUT UP

Smooches near the town tree square or whatever it is. And now we're back, and now the homeless dude has agreed to come inside, and we still have absolutely zero idea why he doesn't like being inside, and they have (checks time) less than 2 minutes to resolve it. *see below*

Nope. That's it. That's how it ends. The homeless man came inside. Because that was the primary arc.

No. It wasn't.

It should end with us seeing him come in, sure (I'll ignore the boom of Chekov's Gun firing in the background), but we end NOT with the moment between DHJ and random homeless dude - which, again, let me be clear is *exactly* what happened - but rather with him coming in and all the rest of the homeless comrades and staff and Acker and Jones greeting them, then we see our two main characters and the kid sitting down like a family, pull back, we see them through the window in which Christmas tree lights are reflecting, pull back further, it starts to snow, cut to credits.

Imma give this one 3 stars outta 5. It wasn't a total ass disaster, but it wasn't that great. It was okay. The Bingo card concurs, as it didn't get filled up, but it got damn close to being a 2/5 (in my mind, every bingo = a point off because it means it’s so unoriginal a damn bingo card could’ve written it):

Addendum:

Butiaint reports that "the homeless guy wouldn't go inside because the last building he walked into was a casino and he lost 'every last penny', so he could never 'just step inside ever again'," to which I, very calmly, replied --->

I'll do an addendum.... that still doesn't... I don't.... what? That's.... why not just say he can't make himself sit down for a homecooked meal because it causes him too much pain because his family died in a car wreck going out Christmas shopping and a dinner/meal was his last memory of them? It didn't need to tie into the money thing with her, that thread was fine on its own.... goddamnit I hate stupid writing

Back to quick round-ups and arbitrary ratings of a bunch of movies in the next one, once I get my notepad transcribed.

For some reason, this whole entry morphed into a recap of "Holiday High School Reunion" with Rachel Boston (Lifetime). You'll recognize this gal, she's been in others for Lifetime, and I personally recognized her for the pretty damn entertaining, sadly short-lived Witches of EastwickEnd series. It was a fan-frikkin'-tastic cast of awesome women, they made any sloggy scripts watchable. I digress.

I immediately empathized with this character because not even a quarter of the way into the movie she's (a) dreading her high school reunion, and (b) hates social media because she doesn't wanna have to justify/be asked about/etc. her life, as she's not where she wants to be. I personally would add onto that the distinct apathy regarding the details of everyone's life. It's either veneered in fabulous or dipped in drama-filled Debbie Downer. Blecchhh. I've digressed again.

There's been a brief funny daydream - if they do more, I'm in, it was pretty cute. And there's been a brilliant piece of screenwriting in this movie, and I want to share it for my writer buddies because it was a *pristine* show-don't-tell.

(Let me say here real fast, to paint you a picture, that she's dressed casually - hoodie, and I think lounge-y pants or maybe pajama pants, or maybe just jeans, can't recall - because it's clearly way past end of workday, and the character I'm about to talk about is in a crisp white button-down and tie and suit slacks.)

Her father arrives to find her on a porch that's covered in strings of Christmas lights wound around the poles/pillars/whatever you call them of the railings, and around the trimwork of the house, and they're these great pops of vivid colors in the night, first of all. So we're seeing her standing there, smiling and happy to see him, and what's in the foreground is a series of bulbs along the window or door frame, and one of the bulbs is out.

Instead of truly greeting his daughter, first thing he does as they barely start chatting, and while she's speaking, is saunter over right into frame, blocking our shot of her, and give that bulb a twist til it lights.

My immediate thoughts: He's a dick. He likes everything just so. He enjoys perfection. He's not interested in effort, just execution. He zeroes in on faults. He actively ignores/doesn't care about the fact that his daughter is happy to see him. He doesn't consider her important enough to receive his attention first and foremost. He's a supreme dick. And he's gonna make her feel like shit for where she is in life, which is her biggest insecurity, which he should know, because that's how good dads operate. But he's not a good dad. Not at all. And I bet he's about to donkey punch her feels.

All that from a twist of a bulb.

And I was right: he proceeded to make her feel like shit by being snotty about her job and comparing her to his golf buddy's daughter. Then she still managed to sit back down at her laptop and focus on what she was doing and smile a genuine smile, and now I like her and feel for her even more. No one would have blamed her if she cried, or snapped at him, or slammed her laptop closed and had an Angst Attack, and those would be writing choices too. But the choice is for her to make the best of things.

We also know this because it is reinforced with another good show-don't-tell via actions (versus her announcing it ad nauseam or other people saying it ad nauseam), when red punch gets spilled on her white dress at the reunion and the snobs are like "Ohmigawd!" and gasping, she goes "Well I think it looks kinda cool!" She does snag a cardigan because she's aware it's an eyesore, so yeah, she's lying to herself. It's clearly a survival mechanism, her childhood must've been a dream with a father like she's got (rolls eyes).

And the lie(s) she tells is to avoid the drama of not living up to the "Most Likely To Succeed" superlative, and even then it's a relatively minor lie, she's not making herself super-duper fabulous because she doesn't feel super-duper presently. She's cheerful without being obnoxiously Pollyanna, and her dynamic with her best friend (you'll recognize him, too, he's the dude who dated Regina George and who Cady had a crush on in "Mean Girls") is phenomenal, they have great chemistry and I'll be honest, I see where this is going and I've got some faith in these screenwriter(s) that they'll actually pull it off smoothly.

There's been a dance/song routine and it is horrific and I hate it. I hate it hard. It's stupid and lasts too long and is purely for padding the runtime. But. It had a good point, albeit one that could’ve accomplished in less time. The three queen bees who were her fake friends in high school, and are her fake friends now, all remember this routine to a pristine degree, and of course we see our girl whiff it the more it goes on, she knocks over a prop, turns this way when she should've turned that way, and I feel her - high school is utterly forgettable.

I’m about to digress, so skip the indent if it doesn’t apply to you - anyone reading this who is currently a senior?

Enjoy it, it's your last year, enjoy being kings of the hill. I liked my senior year for several reasons but the biggest one was that I was getting the hell out of there. I was liked, I was decently popular and I made good grades and was in honors choir, but I wasn't top-tier popular or the head cheerleader or the valedictorian or homecoming queen or always having a boyfriend, none of that, and what I was? That stuff I just listed?

None of it matters. I've not been to any reunions, because I don't care to reminisce. Not that it was horrible or something, it was... *shrugs*. I'm still friendly with the people I went to high school with, ended up going to college with a couple of 'em, matter of fact, and I like who we are as adults tenfold vs. who we were in high school. Because as grown-up as you feel? You're a child. You're all children. I was a child. We were all children (even the couple of gals who, um, had children/were preggers before all was said and done and diplomas hit hands). We were. It just is.

So I assure you: the people who still wistfully think about high school, the ones who "peaked" in high school? There's something mentally still childlike about them, and I don't have the time nor the inclination to deal with man/woman-babies. I'm a grown-up. So believe me when I say that life is about to open up like a motherfucker. And if you did happen to peak in high school? Leave that behind, too. Resting on childhood laurels won't serve you well, because other than some of those accolades getting you into college? Nobody - and I mean nobody - in grown-up world cares about that shit.

Oh christ another song. And a daydream (pseudo-flashback? hard to say, I was getting a snack). But again, more reinforcement of how high school doesn't matter to her but super-matters to others, in this case how she (former head cheerleader) didn't place give much memory real estate to how she'd broken off things with high school boyfriend (former quarterback), but it's like the first thing he asks about as soon as they're alone.

"Wow well... that was a long time ago," she says, starting to think back, then ultimately says - "I thought you were cheating on me."

He totally was, I don't even need to see a flashback, hundred percent, he's scum. Whoa shit, speaking of - another flashback whilst kissing him, but whoa shit part two, it went to a fun, happy memory with best friend. Not subtle, this movie - of course she'll end up with him.

The divas are now in the bathroom gossiping about her and don't know she's in there. Again, the not caring, this time more blatant - "She ruined the routine!" - "It's like she doesn't even care" - "Can't believe she broke up with him on prom night" - "He deserves better".

One of these bitches was the one he was cheating with, no doubt. They also talk about how one of them called around, found out her job wasn't what she passed it off as, that she's a wardrobe assistant vs. a right-hand-(wo)man to this swank designer. The Queen Bitch calls her "nobody", and the minor bitches are saying how they're her best friends and wondering why she wouldn't tell them the truth. Hey, cheerleaders: Gimme a D! Gimme an E! Gimme an L! ....fuck, this is gonna take too long.... Gimme a USIONAL! What does that spell? DELUSIONAL! *pom shakes* *high kick* *herkie* *round-off-back-handspring*

Oh lord why is she doing a weird impromptu cheer routine.... best friend jumped in to support and encourage and some people seemed to get into it but... the fuck? These screenwriter(s) are either on point or left field, jeebus.

Speaking of field, she and best friend are out lying on the football field, and they're talking fun memories - as in, the only ones that are vivid in her mind are the ones involving him, and vice-versa. I will give them this: the flashbacks are cute and short and don't derail the momentum. They're really well done. The songs are the whiff.

Now the queen bees are discussing their next routine. THE !!FINAL ROUTINE!!! AND SHE HAD A SOLO! (Why the shit are they performing routines at their reunion? I've heard tale of slide shows and videos and stuff like that, but fucking stage shows? Damn I hope that punch is spiked.) One of the minor bitches - the sweet ditzy one - is weeping loudly when Queen Bitch says our gal's officially out of their glee club. But she says "glee club", as in... they're the only 4 members? No other members are in attendance at the reunion? Looks like it was a big-ass graduating class. ???? Got me.

Our gal's mom - who is MARILU HENNER DID I MENTION THAT and has been woefully underused thus far - has overheard. Commercial break. I need a Mountain Dew.

We're back. Marilu is completely opposite of Dick Dad. Now we're in a random B story where one of the bitches is flirting hard with the principal.... and the mic's hot. But she ain't embarrassed, says she'll meet him wherever someplace at midnight. Oh and I forgot that best friend's not-really girlfriend flew out to join him as a surprise and he'd been like "Wha..." and she serves no purpose. Even now, when she gasps and squeals excitedly "Oh you're in love with her!" She ain't mad, and good, because nobody cares. And she's all pumped because she's made lots of friends with these people she'd never seen before in her life.

Fucknoodles the !!!FINAL ROUTINE!!! is bad. Now the solo. Our girl's taken the stage and Queen Bee didn't put up a fight, just stormed off. And here we go: she's making a speech about how she's not yet lived up to the Most Likely To Succeed, but their votes meant a lot to her, and she's not giving up. It's good shit.

And then they start chanting her name (it's Georgia, btw).

And then she starts her O Holy Night solo.

*sigh*

This movie is well-written but there's *so* much unneeded padding to the runtime. And she's on key and there's nothing wrong with her voice but it's nothing special. So what? Lots of people can sing in tune. I don't get it.

Flashback. Yeah, totes cheating, and he admits it - which, if she remembers, then that contradicts the earlier conversation when he denies it... huh? - and now she's in the gym, where she's bummed about the breakup. Best friend rescues, gets her up and dances with her for the last dance.

Have I mentioned that everyone looks identically the same? And we're supposed to be ten years out? Seriously. Hair and everything. Except for - and I don't know why - the bitch trio. (Dear Wardrobe and make-up departments: WHAT.)

So yeah yeah yeah, they share the last dance at the reunion because the whole thing was a fucking talent show-prom do-over (reunions are just not like that, y'all, I know I haven't been to one but my mother has - helped plan one, matter of fact - and they aren't Prom Part Deux, nor are there glee club and cheerleading routines, nor are they scheduled around major holidays. Dear Writers: ALSO WHAT.)

Ending is rushed and is stupid. Holy shit, they whiffed it. They actually ended on the totally unneeded B plot of the prinicpal seduction (which, by the way, consisted of a whopping 2 scenes... possibly 3, clearly it made no impact). This is the stupidest thing, they ended on such a bad note it leaves an icky taste in my mouth for this movie.

This one gets 2.5 stars out of 5. It had 3.5 for most of it, and then when we hit that first routine at the reunion, man did the points start coming off. This was classic fanfic: a ridiculous premise, sure, there’s things you have to overlook out of the gate (like, say, how nobody sane would plan a farging high school reunion at Christmas, at least not if they wanted actual attendance) but the execution’s great for the first half and then something happens and brains melt and it swerves into oncoming traffic and gets hit by The Trope Bus. ::sigh:: Ah, well.

Ermahgerd, "Christmas Shoes" is coming on *warning lights flash* * dives for remote, goes to safety of Hallmark Movies and Mysteries immediately *

Next entry: part one of the David Haydn-Jones Christmas movie trifecta. Finally caught one. It stars the chick that played Winnie Cooper. And holy jumping Jiminy Cricket, was it bad.

Candace Cameron will star in any movie that’s Christmas themed and I am determined to watch all of them. She’s typically cursed with a snoozeville co-lead. The Alaskan doctor one isn’t bad. The executive who’s there to examine the lodge one is absolutely snore-worthy. The one about the saving dad’s business with nutcrackers one is pretty okay. I am actively avoiding the newest one about magic shoes. Christmas shoes never ends well.

Double feature with someone I vaguely recognize as being from a CW show in the early aughts, but clearly not one I actually watched, or I’d remember. Anyway, broad strokes: one is from a couple years ago, she’s a single mom and there’s this locket with a nautical star on it that’s literally, um, locked, and..... it’s not brought up again til the end. You’ll know the movie because you’ll think to yourself “This doesn’t know what it wants to be” - is it about the locket and how it was a gift from her mother and she lost it and it was somehow pivotal to discovering who her birth father was? Or is it about the custody battle with the asshole ex-husband and her losing her job and being evicted? Or is it about the meet-cute then “crossed wires” recurrent situations with the shop owner’s grandson? I have no idea. But there’s precocious kids and a bakery. It had potential, and that actress is good and so was the co-lead, but script = hot mess.

Second one is about a poinsettia farm and stars Bo Duke/Jonathan Kent, depending on your generation. She’s from the big city and she’s a-comin’ home to save the family business! I assume she meets someone at a bakery, I wasn’t pulled in at all, my remote finger got real twitchy, but when I flipped back toward the end, surprise! She’s a-stickin’ around, she’ll run the family business, don’t sell the farm, screw her life at the other place with the things!

I actually have another recommend: “Operation Christmas”

Solid script, and hella fine acting by one Ms. Tricia Helfer. I have loved her since Battlestar Gallactica, SPN fans will know her as the lady ghost on the road who doesn’t know she’s dead. That chick. Killa actress. You wanna talk about a good crier on camera? Top tier, here. My cold, black, shriveled heart actually giddy-up’d and I possibly got misty when she bursts into tears in this movie. Also stars Marc Blucas, who Buffy fans will remember as Riley, and I like him, too.

There are precocious kids, and this coulda gone cheaply exploitative with the military angle, but it sticks the landing with only minor wobbles, it hits heartwarming vs. cheese. There’s an odd fixation on singing in the back half (several characters singing solo at various points), and it’s awkward to watch (and hear, because of the distinct shift your ears will detect between the “on set” and the “in recording studio” audio) because with the exception of one, when they blend it into a professional singer whilst slipping into a wee montage of Christmas tree delivering - or unloading, I can’t recall, who cares - the songs go on Way. Too. Long.

Except.

What they did during the talent show during the Silent Night number? That sing-a-long? Now, that I wish had been a little longer. A+ job, screenwriter(s). The very-very end was saccharine, but it was short, and that’s what counts because I realize you were trapped, this is Hallmark Christmas movie we’re talking, you had to do it, you’d been steady through the rest of the script, they wanted their shmoop, no one blames you.

Something called “The Sound of Christmas” has just come on, and there was so much exposition dump in the *first* *three* *minutes* that the titular sound is actually gonna be the click of my remote control. Oh lord looks like the lead male is poor man’s Ray Liotta who’s a high-powered blah-blah-blah. And seems it’s precocious child: petulant teen edition. I’m out.

David Haydn-Jones continues to elude.

Pattern detected: Plot--->

The conflict must be saving family business/home from certain doom

Business = service industry (store, bakery, gardening/plants/farm, lodge/hotel)

Female protagonist supes busy with her stuff and such in the big city; has to leave; returns; likely plans to stay forever

Precocious child, standard

Execution--->

One lead must be a notably better actor than other; neither may be on-point overall; if both are something, that something is teeth-grinding to watch and/or listen to

Exposition with (admittedly) necessary facts must come early on, and in dialogue dumps, preferably just one big fatty, and preferably between two people who already know this information vs. to someone who is not privy to this information

Character introduction/pertinent background must not trickle out organically over the first act via showing their actions and other characters' reactions; just throw in with that plot exposition dump

A big gun was pulled out last night - Patti LaBelle was briefly in one, watched some of it, was glad to see an original plot (mostly; see above, re: female protag mold) but then I thought better of it, googled, and yup, based on a book. Ah, we meet again, Not Original Story. This morning, tangentially related, something-something-rich-dude-reg-chick, and they were named Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet #fml #gag #stay away #get Austen out of your mouths

Presently playing is one whose plot sounds suspiciously like The Parent Trap: Christmas Edition, Nashville Style. Sort-of, I mean, we start there, then I'm not clear on where they drive to, but it's still Southern, and props to the filmmakers for not going nuts on the snow, someone actually did some research. I will also compliment them for only letting the folks who have some form of natural Southern accent/Southern cadence use it, the rest speaking in standard North American accents.

Now, two things: I love the Lohan version of P.T., a lot a lot a lot, and I'll hear nothing bad about it. Secondly, I'm going to refrain from commenting on shite Southern accents in movies in general, this one and elsewhere, such as in the Kellie Pickler Graceland-set Christmas one that aired yesterday that I could only tolerate in five minute increments as I flipped back and forth to Law & Order SVU frequently for palate cleanses #Mariska sorbet

But it got off to a good start, the opening credits were creative and unique, and I recognize the lead actors. Kids don't seem terribly precocious. Hmmm.

I shall give it a chance.

[time passes; returns to draft]

It's not Parent Trap, summary was garbage, it's not about the precocious kids, and no one has a high-powered career, no one is filthy rich, and both lead actors are really great. The chick is Sissy Spacek's daughter, I've seen her in other stuff before, have always liked her, I think she's talented. I recognize the lead dude from something I've seen before, too, he's a bit of poor man's Paul Rudd, but good. There's a somewhat difficult grandma, but she's not unlikable, you kind of get where she's coming from, and it's because it's Dee Goddamn Wallace, the queen of playing mothers (youngsters, google her, you'll likely recognize her, leave out the goddamn when you do).

The background music isn't overly country-fied nor syrupy-shmoopy twinkle-bells. The dialogue is actually decent and delivered believably by all parties. The kids aren't annoying. The side characters are just that, left to the side, there's no best friend/sister taking up screen time. The leads have an easy, natural chemistry. Holy fucknoodles, I might recommend this one to you. I'm actually watching this one. I'm legit watching it.

[time passes; returns to draft]

What I said above continued, then there was horse-riding and acoustic guitar and even a classic car. The chick wasn't the one leaving to go back to what-the-hell-ever. Nobody was pining for anybody, and the conflict at play was completely realistic. Okay, yeah. Recommend. Hundred percent. This is the angst-turns-to-love with a dash of domestic life AU fic many folks keep trying to write and not quite getting there (Hi, I'm Nash, and I'm supes blunt when I'm under-the-weather), then your bonus that it's set at Christmastime.

The exposition on backstory was done pretty dang smoothly, but better was that we weren't told who these characters are/were, we were shown. *And zero flashbacks* There's several great, snappy, shot-across-the-bow lines. There's a religious element that is pitch-perfect and appropriate and not overbearing. The ending song is a smidge too long, didn't need to hear the whole thing, but it's kept simple and the lyrics are sweet without being cheese, so I'll give it that. Pacing overall is a little wobbly, they probs could've trimmed a good ten-to-twelve minutes of runtime, and there's a side character who blips on the scene that was poorly cast as his lack of prowess sludges up the vibe (charismatic, he ain't, maybe he's somebody's spouse *ahem*), but this one's pretty solid, y'all.

It's called "Every Other Christmas", starring Schuyler Fisk, on Lifetime Movie Network - it just premiered the other night, apparently, so with rebroadcasts you should have plenty of opportunity to catch it.

Okay, back to the shmaltz.

My dearest:

[cue old-timey, slightly depressing instrumental courtesy of rickety fiddles; narration by Ken Burns]

Exposition anvils continue to drop from the sky with abandon, though I’ve not succumbed to my injuries, have no fear.

Alicia Witt was lovely in something about a novelist who was rejected by both successful novelist boyfriend and publisher, but then meets very successful other novelist who is hiding the fact that he is such. I only caught the last quarter. Disappointed in lack of fanfic about novelists. I tire of writing “novelist”.

Our regiment (myself, General Pup, and Lieutenant Pup) is currently surrounded by a tale of a stewardess who has gotten entangled with a dude whose daughter she was in charge of because unaccompanied minor on flight. Dude is the lead from “That Thing You Do”, he was the next Tom Hanks before Colin Hanks got old enough to fill that role. I am saddened this dude has not gotten mucho awards. None of this matters.

I am more of the sads that the flufferfic-ers have not stalked and mauled and chewed on the carcass of the premise of Whyenne being a flight attendant who captures Dean’s heart when she captures his vomit during a flight to wherever to do something. Or, scratch that; she magically cures him of his fears with her enchanted hoo-hah, because that’s how phobias work. And assuming there’s plot, the hunt for the whatever can take place on the plane, like that Harrison Ford movie or that Jodie Foster movie or that Kurt Russell movie. It would have to be a big-ass plane. They could still bang in the bathroom, even though there’s plenty of places to go.

I have no more plot to give, I am exhausted and according to the thing, you know, the thingy that tells what’s on next, there’s no restorative Candace Cameron in the near future. I may have to settle for one of the Duff sisters.

David Haydn-Jones remains elusive.

General Pup is barking orders. I must end here. Ever yours - Nash. #send vodka

[Transferred 2nd post]

Report from the front line:

There’s been a Denise Richards bakery-related jam. Also a Lacey Chabert - who is a baker - jam. The first had a Christmas cookie contest, the latter a gingerbread competition. Not to be confused. Something with people I’ve never seen before in my life just started, about a big CEO and a bakery. Candace Cameron was in another one, and though it’s bakery-free, those are all starting to blend together.

Send rations.

[Transferred 1st post]

I have felt like garbage and been homebound for two days, and then today (oh blessed event, and I am dead serious, I love it) the onslaught of Fanfic Movie Time has begun, a.k.a. Totes Ridiculous Christmas Situation Lurve-Conflict-Lurve Movie Season on Lifetime/Hallmark/that other network I can never remember the name of, and due to foggy brain I got sucked in. There was a king and ice skating, something about Louisiana with JDM’s wife where everybody’s hair looked horrendous, and then another one with Candace Cameron in Alaska. It was great. Legit. I haven’t laughed as hard. It helped me cough up disease. #bless you Candace

#Nash Watches and Rates #Cheesy Winter Movies #so you don't have to #Cheesy Movie Talk #Not SPN #though sometimes #SPN Tangentially #Back to our #regularly scheduled #programming shortly #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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sheab-tter · 5 years

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Fake Names and Batman

Marinette normally doesn't enjoy the hours during or after rush-hour. She feels gross, she's tired, and because the Starbucks she works at is a little understaffed, she often finds herself working it alone. She supposes a handsome stranger might make up for it all.

Or my miraculous ladybug fic I posted last year on ao3 and didn’t think to upload to tumblr.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng lived a very normal life. She was the most normal, unremarkable person to have ever walked the streets of Paris, and she was very quick to say so. She definitely did not go around at night wearing spandex, and she most definitely was not also sometimes known as the super-heroine Ladybug.

Definitely not.

No, Marinette Dupain-Cheng lived with her parents above a bakery, studied fashion design at university, and worked at Starbucks. She was an average twenty year old, and she enjoyed keeping it that way.

Unfortunately, despite (totally not) being the real-life embodiment of good luck, nothing ever seemed to go her way. For example: on this fine, beautiful, sunny, warm, glorious day, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was to work inside her local Starbucks from opening until two. She slept in through all three of her alarms, yet somehow managing to rush to work with seconds to spare. Frazzled, but on time, it was considered a win.

And then, of course, it wasn’t.

Humming along to the music through the cafe speakers, the young student was working at work. With pencil in hand, she did her best to do drafts of her upcoming major work. Rush hour was over, so she could finally relax.

She so should have known better. Alas, on this almost-great day, she didn’t.

So there she stood, sketching and shading and paying zero attention to her paying job. The bell above the door chimed once, twice. Open and closed, where once there was one, now there were two.

She was still humming.

And sketching and shading.

And paying zero attention to the new customer.

Then he politely coughed and all sense went out the window.

Scrambling, flailing and falling, Marinette let out an undignified squawk. In her haste, she managed to draw deep, dark lines onto her drafts and completely ruin them. She also fell and hit her head on the way down, but this was a common occurrence, and she was much more concerned about her assignment than her own physical health.

She saw a shadow.

Oh, she thought, maybe I should be more worried about the customer who definitely thinks I’m an idiot.

Yes. The dreaded customer. Shit. Slowly, she stood. Bravely, she met his eyes. With dignity, she asked him for his order.

His mouth opens. Marinette’s heart stopped for a moment. “Hi! Can I get a grande iced green tea latte? Thanks.” No it didn’t. He smiled with perfect teeth. Marinette…couldn’t really handle it. She typed in his order, fingers flexing and unflexing. Hands curling and uncurling. She grabbed a cup, pen ready. Asked him, “And your name, Sir?” to which he…didn’t reply.

She looked up at him, this time, for the first proper time, really seeing him. Eyes piercing green. Soul baring, some might say. Haunted, Marinette thought. His hair fell in his face in a way that Marinette was sure would have annoyed her if it were her own, but recognised that it was done on purpose. As much as she tried to distract herself from his eyes…she just couldn’t. Where there was sadness, she could also see shock and confusion, and, as the seconds passed, she saw faint amusement. But Marinette couldn’t escape his sadness. Placing the cup on the counter and leaning on it herself to gain some height, she furrowed her brows.

“Monsieur…are you alright?” His head quickly shook, but not as a no. Whatever stupor the beautiful stranger (she wasn’t blind) was in, he was now out of it. He ducked down to Marinette’s still-leaning-on-counter-for-support height, so they were practically nose to nose, smiling some more, this time however it was decidedly more mischievous, and wow. Mon dieu that looks familiar, and if Marinette couldn’t really handle him just smiling, then this—

“Yes. The name’s…Bond. James Bond.”

He had the audacity to wink.

To wink.

Marinette was already struggling and then he winked.

In her mind, she imagined smoothing her hair, clearing her throat, and thoroughly shaking her entire body to be rid of his effect. As it was only in her head, it didn’t help at all. But it was the thought that counts. Instead of actually doing as her mind told her, she, firstly, sighed and stared at the ceiling, because that was ridiculous. She heard him laugh, and it was breathtakingly beautiful. Loud, and almost surprised, as if laughing wasn’t something he did often. All she could do was calmly lean away from the counter to pick up the discarded cup. Yes. Right. He told me his name. A ridiculous name that is definitely fake.

It was almost like a lightbulb moment.

A fake name.

Well, she smirked, let’s give him a fake name.

She made his ridiculously rich-girl sounding drink and, after handing it over, went back to her designs. She pretended she didn’t hear his surprised choke of laughter, she pretended she didn’t get a thrill at knowing she was the cause of it. She stood and she restarted her drafts.

It wasn’t until she heard the telltale ring once, twice; heard the heavy thud of wooden doors slamming shut, that she let herself relax.

007, she had written. And it made him laugh.

Mon dieu, she thought. I’m in trouble.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #adrienette #writing

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redditnosleep · 6 years

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We Thought My Brother Overdosed. He Didn't.

by Andrunes

"It'd be easier on everyone if you just fucking died Jimmy!" was the last thing I ever said to my brother as I slammed the door to his apartment behind me.

The words echoing in my head on a constant loop, drowning out our friends and family offering their condolences to my parents and I as we sit beside his open casket.

I can't stand to look at him. Half out of guilt, the remainder his appearance. Drugs took his life but it robbed him of his looks long before that. Death has not redeemed him of this quality, it's amplified it.

"Alan, please" he said with an outstretched hand beckoning me to sit beside him on his dingy couch. "Don't leave." The lump in his throat as audible as the welling of his eyes were visible.

Despite his pleading, I just left him there. I should have done something. I could have done something. Instead, I told my own brother he should die and either he, or God, or both agreed with me because later that night he did.

We didn't know exactly what substance it was that he was abusing that did it. We were still waiting on the toxicology report for that.

People will tell you that it's not my fault. People will insist that I loved my brother. People will say that I'm a good man. People are wrong.

This is my fault. I own it. I abandoned my own flesh and blood in frustration when he needed me most. Hours passed before my conscience finally got the better of me that night and by the time I made it back to his home to make amends, it was too late.

I stood at his entrance practicing my apology. Testing the best sentences I could use to tell him how sorry I was but in the same breath, truly get through to him that his demons were tearing our parents apart.

My rehearsal was interrupted by a squishing sound from beneath my feet as I paced. The industrial carpet lining the corridors of the run down complex were wet. The dirty beige colour now a dark brown in an uneven half circle where it's been saturated most at the foot of my brothers' door.

I apprehensively used my spare key to gain entrance. Cool droplets of water dripped down from the ceiling. Puddles pooled deep in sections on the uneven floors. My guilt morphed into anger instantly as I wondered how much my parents would have to pay the landlord for the damages my little brother has caused to his property.

It builds into blind rage as I jerk in surprise as one of the drops from the ceiling falls onto my face.

The emotion fades faster than it came when I turned my body towards Jimmy's living room preparing to give him hell.

My voice catches in my throat when my gaze finds its destination.

There he sat, lifeless on the sofa where I left him. His mouth agape, eyes wide and nearly completely white. His soaking wet t-shirt molded to his skinny body revealing the contour of his ribcage. His hand outstretched at his side resting on the unoccupied cushion as if even in death he requested my companionship.

"Jimmy!" I shout as I scramble towards him splashing in the puddles as I ran. I held him in my arms screaming his name and tapping his cold face with my hand. "Please, wake up!" My voice cracking in terror.

I recoil in surprise as a drop lands on my hand breaking my daydream as I sit slumped in the funeral homes' chair. I instinctively look to the ceiling as if I were still at Jimmy's apartment. Realizing too late that I was the source. I've been silently crying this whole time.

The rest of the viewing was as hard as you would expect for a family bidding a 26 year old member farewell. The burial was even worse. There's something about the finality of the closing coffin that leaves you so empty you'd swear a piece of you was in there with your loved one, never to see the light of day again. I wish I could tell you that it became easier on us in the weeks that followed but I won't lie to you. I can't find it in me to care enough for that.

It's been especially hard on my mother in the six weeks that have passed. She had spent most of it watching old home videos of my brother as a child. Birthday parties, piano recitals, graduations and the like. Her nights however are filled with quiet weeping from her upstairs bedroom, clutching a photo of him in a frame she keeps by her bedside. My father being the war veteran that he is, copes with trauma as he always has with quiet strength, a cigarette, a stiff upper lip, and if need be a stiffer drink. I've never seen so much as a tear form in my father's eye my entire life, not even as we carried my brother's casket to be buried. You could sense his sadness as it hung heavy in the air around him, its weight could be felt by every single person in attendance. But to him, crying was weakness in a man and not an option while he had a wife and surviving son depending on him.

It's the reason I was so shocked to see him sitting on the floor next to his cellphone, sobbing like a child when I let myself into their home.

"Dad?" I say as I make my way toward him, leaving the front door open behind me. I knelt as fast as I could to rest my hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

He wipes his face ashamedly "Hey Alan," he says trying his best to conceal the agony in his voice and shifts his body abruptly to stand.

I keep him down, he doesn't resist.

"Dad, it's ok." I soothe, "What happened?"

Fresh tears well in his eyes as he stares into mine. It's my turn to be strong for him as I fight back tears of my own.

"The doctor called," he whispers. "All of Jimmy's results came back negative."

"What?" I blurt, failing to conceal my surprise.

"There were no drugs in his system. Hair, blood, saliva... nothing." he whimpers, "what... what killed my boy?"

I feel dizzy at this revelation and use my father's shoulder to steady myself as I sit with my back to the wall beside him.

Both of us staring off into nothing.

Both of us now weeping.

We had all been so sure that Jimmy overdosed that we had refused an autopsy. Confident that sending off Jimmy's various bodily fluids would reveal the culprit. The police found no evidence of foul play and they attributed the water and damage to the apartment as a drug fueled hallucination. "He probably thought the place was on fire!" were the exact words used by the officer. Yet here we are in a reality where Jimmy not only did not overdose, but had no trace of narcotics in his system whatsoever.

More time had passed since I found my father on the floor and its passage has done nothing to heal my wounds. I became obsessed with my brother's death, and vowed to find out what it is that killed him not only for my sake but for the sake of my parents who have deteriorated into shells of their former selves without this closure. I found my answer among his possessions which lay in storage boxes in my parents garage.

Jimmy was an avid reader, and owned more books than an underfunded public library. So it was easy for everyone involved who didn't know him to overlook the leather bound journal that was tucked away between Wilde and Poe. Even if it had garnered any amount of attention, it would be short lived. Its pages were seemingly empty.

When we were children we nicknamed my father the Colonel because he took all of his military style bootcamp training and transitioned it over to his parenting. When one of us broke something in the house, or just generally disobeyed him we would be sent to our rooms which he called "the hole" for a pre-set amount of time.

"Come here boys!" He would bellow, his deep voice reverberating throughout the house and my brother and I would drop anything we were doing and scurry to get to him as fast as our little legs could carry us. We would stand up straight before him with our hands at our sides like mini soldiers.

"Which one of you broke your mothers vase?" He'd say to us sternly, my mother cooking in the background trying hard not to smile. My father never hit us so the "little soldier routine" as she called it made her smile through her mock grimace everytime.

"I did sir!" Jimmy would shout.

"Takes a man to own up to his mistakes." my father would say, "but he's got to face the consequences too, don't you think?"

"Yes sir!" He'd say standing up straighter.

"Good. One hour in the hole!" The Colonel replied with my mother behind him smiling blatantly now hoping to at least surpress the giggles.

It wasn't uncommon for Jimmy to take the fall. It's just who he was and would always be. I had broken the vase that evening but Jimmy couldn't bare the thought of someone else being punished if he had the power to prevent it. He gave anything and everything he had to those he loved and as he aged that quality only grew stronger.

Jimmy was a better man than me.

It was during those hours in the hole that we devised a way to communicate with eachother, undetected from the Colonels' watchful eyes. We would pass notes under the door written in lemon juice or milk. Once dry the paper would be clear, the ink unseen. The only way to reveal the message was to apply heat either with a candle, or the burning hot incandescent lightbulb of our bedside lamps, turning the transparent ink brown like magic. As soon as the message was read, the paper was destroyed and if it were ever intercepted before the heating process as they sometimes were our parents would simply command us to pick up after ourselves seeing only a blank page. It was our very own invisible ink. We briefly tried with urine once but neither one of us was willing to touch the paper afterward which defeated the purpose.

Holding Jimmy's leather journal in my hand and leafing through its pages, I smiled at the memory. I took it with me to my father's workbench in the corner of the garage. Reaching to take the propane torch from the top shelf. I twist the nozzle releasing a hiss of propellant, and pull the trigger igniting a blue flame.

He couldn't have. Could he?

I travel the flame carefully over the first page as to not combust it and stare in bewilderment as words do indeed begin to surface.

LET ME GO ALAN.

BURN THE BOOK.

-Love, Jimmy.

With my heart beating out of my chest I don't know whether to laugh or cry as I read Jimmy's message from beyond the grave so I do a bit of both as a swallow hard, composing myself before turning the page.

I PRAY THAT NO ONE IS READING. I HAVE DONE MY BEST TO CONTAIN WHAT I HAVE FOUND SO WHEN I DIE, IT DIES WITH ME.

"What the hell is going on, Jimmy?" I whisper aloud. For the very first time, the thought that the toxicology report might be mistaken emerges in my mind. Who else but a man intoxicated could ever write such things?

The sense of smell is so closely linked to memory that the aroma created by the flame eminating from the paper triggers happy flashbacks of when we used to do this as children.

A stunning contrast to the morbidness of my discovery. How did we end up here?

Another page, another message.

PLEASE, IF ANYONE IS READING THIS ESPECIALLY YOU ALAN WHO IS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS ABOUT THE INVISIBLE WRITING, JUST BURN THE BOOK! PLEASE DO NOT BRING THE POEM BACK INTO THE WORLD.

"Poem?" I think to myself as chills run up my spine.

I LOVE YOU ALAN, TO THE MOON AND BACK. IF YOU ARE READING THIS, HUG MOM AND THE COLONEL. THEY'LL NEED YOU. IM SORRY I COULDN'T TELL YOU. I COULDN'T RISK IT. I DISCOVERED A CURSE. A CURSE THAT ONCE READ BINDS YOU TO IT. IT WONT LET ME DIE ALAN, UNLESS I WRITE IT.

I flip the pages as fast as I can to continue my brother's message.

IT CAN'T BE STOPPED. I'VE TRIED. I'VE DESTROYED EVERYTHING RELATED TO THIS CURSE THAT I'VE FOUND SO THAT IT CAN'T BE SOUGHT OUT. THE INVISIBLE WRITING IS MY LOOPHOLE. A WAY TO END MY SUFFERING BUT PROTECT THE NEXT VICTIMS.

The next fifteen pages consisted of only three words repeated over and over.

DO NOT READ.

My heart breaks at my brother's mental state. If I had known his mind was so fragmented I could have gotten him the help he clearly needed.

The words on the sixteenth page burned darker than the rest. No longer the golden brown of its predecessors but a deep black. No longer bold capital letters but a fine script.

*Each flash of lightning will reveal its form.

*It preys on the cursed in the eye of the storm.

Every page that followed was empty.

I clutched the journal to my chest. "I'm so sorry Jimmy." I mutter "I love you too."

I couldn't bring myself to tell my parents about my discovery, it would do them no good. Upon exiting the garage, I tuck the book into my jacket sleeve and lay it on the couch where I take a seat next to my mother watching her daily dose of home videos.

"Hello sweetheart." she smiles, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"How you doing mom?" I respond.

"I'm alright I guess I'm just trying to remember happier times." She smiled, "These videos just remind me that I did tell you boys I loved you a million times a day." and points to the screen.

I chuckle because she speaks the truth. At this moment, in the video labeled "Jimmy's 8th birthday" she can be heard from behind the camera asking her two sons her favourite question. "Boys! Boys! How much does mommy love you?"

Jimmy and I sat on the backyard picnic bench surrounded by presents and other children, red as tomatoes and rolling our eyes.

"Mom, not in front of our friends!" We hushed in embarrassment.

"How much my little monkeys?" She squealed with glee.

"To the moon and back" We muttered in defeat.

To add to our horror, the other children surrounding us were ooing and awing in unison.

"See?" my mother says drawing my attention away from the television and back to her.

Both of us share a laugh. It was so nice to see my mother smile again that it helped me to forget Jimmy's journal. So when she asked if I would like to see another video, I agreed without hesitation.

"Do you have my clown birthday party?" I inquire.

"Oh I sure do!" she says jumping up from the couch to retrieve it. "That's my favourite!"

I remember that damn party like it happened yesterday. "The party from hell" Jimmy would dub it later on. My mother thought it would be a tremendous idea to have a clown perform at my 9th birthday, completely unaware that clowns terrified both my brother and I. It was a particularly hot July day. We had already been delirious from too much sun and sugar when Twirly the clown made his entrance holding my candle topped cake. Dancing instead of walking toward us with grand exaggerated kicks of his legs. There's a particularly funny scene in this video where my mother pans the camera from Twirly's theatrics and laughing family members in the background, to where my brother and I sat holding eachother, eyes shut tightly with our faces turned towards the sky crying in fear.

But that's not what played on the tv. The setting hadn't changed. The people in attendance were the same. My younger father before his hair began to grey, stood at the barbeque flipping burgers just as I remembered only he was dripping wet in the rain.

"It wasn't raining." I think to myself confused.

"Look how handsome your father is." I hear my mother say at my side. I can't find my voice to reply so I just nod never taking my eyes off what I'm watching. "Here's the best part!" she claps with joy.

"Bring on the clown!" My father says, but it's difficult to make out over the ever increasing ferocity of the storm. The screen goes white with a flash of lightning as if it struck within meters of where we were standing.

My pulse quickens as I perceive everything in near slow motion. The camera moves from my father to Twirly the clown, his large red shoes splashing in the mud as he danced. The white make up on his face running down onto his orange coloured jumpsuit. The large red painted on smile associated with clowns, sagged into a grimace. His eyes completely blacked out as his drawn on eyebrows did the same.

The happy family members in the background clapping and cheering as the water pooled around their ankles. Heavy winds tossing the womens hair every which way as they applauded, seemingly unaware of the hurricane that raged around them.

Lightning illuminates the scene that has made my family laugh for the better part of two decades. I stare in horror, paralyzed with fear. The camera finally finds its way to young Jimmy and I as we sit holding eachother. However this time only one of us was crying with our eyes shut. Jimmy was staring directly into the camera wide eyed, head vigorously shaking from side to side.

His lips move but I can't make out what he's saying over the ripping thunder. Another flash of lightning and I gasp as a figure materializes behind us out of nothing. Its skin is stretched tight around its tall, skinny body almost translucent in appearance. Its oversized hands resting on both of our shoulders. Its long fingers traveling almost almost the entire length of our torsos.

I can't make out its face through no fault of my own because it doesn't have one to speak of. Only a mouth that makes up the whole bottom portion of its oval head.

Jimmy jerks his shoulder away from its clutches running up to the camera and grabbing it with both hands to bring it up close to his face.

"You let it out!" He shrieks. " Alan, you let it out! He repeats himself until his voice is hoarse. The hands of the figure coming into frame behind him where they rest on his shoulders.

I taste the salt of my tears at the corner of my mouth and recoil violently as I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright, Alan" my mother says with both her hands held out in front of her trying to be as soothing as possible.

"I'm sorry mom." I respond and start wiping my face with my sleeve until I turn back toward the video. The sun is shining and the clown is dry. His makeup impeccable as the young me reluctantly blows out the candles.

"I miss him too." she says rubbing my back.

"I gotta go." was all I could muster in my dazed condition as I kissed her cheek, picked up my jacket and headed for my car.

I sat in silence on my drive home. Silent enough that the soft swishing of my windshield wipers in the rain were infuriatingly loud. I kept going over what just happened in my head. Overwhelmed, I switched on the radio to the most mindless dance music station I can think of to drown out my thoughts. The vapid radio disk jockey addressing his audience in the typical fashion.

"Yo, yo, yo party people" he begins, "This is MC Mookie Mayes, the flyest DJ on the east coast coming at you live on this beautiful Saturday evening."

He has the desired effect of distracting me at the very least because I roll my eyes and mutter "douchebag" under my breath.

"There's not a cloud in the sky today." he continues, "so I want to see all you beautiful people dancing to my lit beats under the stars tonight!"

I laugh aloud at this. "Hey dj dimwit!" still chuckling, "it's rainin-" my voice trails off as I pull off to the side of the road. I reach to the passengers side seat to retrieve my phone. I open my weather app, warm and clear skies with a zero percent chance of precipitation.

My blood runs cold as thunder rolls in the distance. I look up from my phone to see the silhouette of a figure far in the distance and all I can do is stare as each flash of lightning transports him closer to me.

I floor the gas pedal and speed down the road my tires spinning on the slick surface. My wipers struggling to keep up with the ever falling rain making it difficult to see. "I gotta get out of here." I speak to myself to try and calm my nerves constantly checking my rearview mirror in hopes to catch a glimpse of the figure behind me. But I was mistaken when another flash of light brought the figure directly in front of my car. I swerved to avoid it losing control of my vehicle, spinning out as I try to compensate the steering. When it finally grinds to a halt, I sit gasping for air and listening to my wipers squeaking as they pass over the dry glass. I exit my vehicle and notice the stars in the sky and not a cloud in sight.

When I got to my apartment, I headed straight for my bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. What greets me in the mirror causes me to stare. I've begun to age just as Jimmy had. My cheeks are sullen and the dark rings under my eyes are the worst I'd ever seen.

At first I questioned my sanity. After all, the apparitions left no evidence of their visits. When the storm passed, I was able to carry on with my days. Even my appearance could be reasoned away with illness or the depression caused by the loss of my brother. That luxury would be short lived. As its bond with me grew stronger, its effects became more apparent. Each passing storm would leave its mark. The wet clothes on my body or the welts in the shape of handprints underneath them.

It's been weeks since my first exposure and I can't carry on like this anymore. I hope you can understand, I don't want to die. The figure comes with a higher frequency than ever before. I awaken in the middle of the night to thunder and my apartment is now rife with mold from water damage. I've lost 30 pounds and two teeth since then. It's here with me now both hands resting on my shoulders as I write this. I tried to hold off for as long as I could, but I'm going to give in to what it wants. The largest audience it's ever had in the who knows how many centuries it's roamed the earth. I think in passing it to you I can save myself. I can't be sure but it's worth a try.

Jimmy was selfless. He wrote the curse in a way that no one could ever read it. He gave his life to protect the world.

Please forgive me, I've already told you.

Jimmy was a better man than me.

#creepy #horror story #mysterious figures #curses #author: Andrunes

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