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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years ago

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The Mask 1994

*I finally wrote the whole thing. I finally watched the movie that involved something I’ve been talking about A LOT. I think this took about an hour since I finished the movie. Forgot to mention Charlie.*

I wanna make this clear, even before I watched movie or ever writing this. I am legitimately a stupid and lazy person. Because my mom told me about this, and last week, my dad rented A Quiet Place Part 2. When I was trying to go to sleep but was looking up movies...I literally forgot my tv can do that too...and that I can rent or buy a movie...I rented the movie this morning, and deleted it afterwards...after all that talk...I could’ve done that...wow. I should do that more considering some movies I wanna see or like. Not too much though. My tv has DirecTV. Just a heads up.

But a few or couple of minutes ago, I finally watched The Mask film from 1994. This post is gonna be filled with spoilers and it’s gonna get long. Gonna be kind of a review. My overall thoughts on it. This was my first reaction to the whole movie.

I’d just wanna talk about this too. I like comic books, I like comic book movies. Mainly my favorites are ones like all of Zack Snyder’s DCEU movies, Spider-Man 1 & 2, The Suicide Squad 2021, Wonder Woman 2017, The Dark Knight(Despite whatever issues I have with it), and Joker 2019. Yeah, those are mainly DC films and two Marvel related ones. I don’t even mind Spider-Man 3 as well. I also forgot Dredd 2012 is another one of my favorites. Along with Batman 1989.

I was hoping The Mask could make that list of favorites. Because I read the comics first. I don’t think I ever watch the movie fully as a kid MAYBE. I’m a fan of the comics, I know this movie was gonna be a lighter take on the series.

In a nutshell...I liked it. It’s possible it will be on that list of favorite CBM’s...but I want to talk about it. I’ll also admit I think what got me interested in seeing this film and this series was me liking Jim Carrey as Ace Ventura...now, let’s get to the point.

Yeah, I liked it. I thought the movie was genuinely entertaining. Despite seeing some clips before. But also Ryan Hollinger’s video about it. Revealing the ending, the twist, and other stuff. But I didn’t wanna watch more more that I haven’t seen yet.

I will be honest, it still made me laugh. Even some scenes I already have seen. I will admit, the Cuban Pete scene is actually one of my favorites. XD But what also surprised me is that at times, despite being a funny film. It can genuinely be touching in a way. And I am mainly talking about the developing relationship between Stanley and Tina.

I just wanna talk about the characters right now. I’ll just admit unless I haven’t already. I’m a Jim Carrey fan. Mainly because of his more goofier roles. Particularly his roles from the Ace Ventura movies, Liar Liar, and especially Sonic The Hedgehog. I also will admit this, Jim Carry nails playing Big Head or who they call...The Mask in this movie...I’ll nitpick about that later.

But yeah, Jim’s entertaining as Big Head in this film. He does make me laugh. But I think another role he does well despite there are some sillier moments, which is fine. I feel like in a way, Stanley Ipkiss in this version, is maybe one of his more normal roles. But I know I’m wrong considering whatever other roles he’s in. He portrays a likable good guy who’s sadly mainly pushed around. Which is quite the difference from the comics, except being pushed around. But that’s another topic. Yet for this story, even if maybe Stanley’s name could be changed. But him being a genuinely kind guy works for this story.

Even before I saw the movie, learning more about this version about the character. I can relate to Stanley in some ways honestly. Which is something that I like. He basically shines as a protagonist.

He portrays both sides well. Despite at times...honestly, this Stanley is wacky. I shouldn’t be judging. Jim does a good stuff with what he played, and he’s the highlight of this movie. He also delivers possibly my favorite Jim Carrey line of all time now. Sorry if I get this wrong. I was looking for a clip of it to help me.

“Daddy’s gonna go kick some ass”. A literal line from Jim Carrey in this movie and I love it. He even brings a pistol with him.

I also wanna admit Peter Greene as Dorian is pretty good as a villain. The dude can be threatening and he works with what he is given. And he’s effective as an antagonist. I just wanna admit that I swear, one of these guys. One of them could’ve Walter in a way and I just think that could’ve been possible. But I’m not sure. Just one of Dorian’s henchmen looked like a huge guy. It just got me thinking about Walter from the comics.

Will admit, I think Kellaway is fine. And I just found out Christopher Reeve was one of the actors considered for the role...damn. But again, Kellaway was fine. He’s more like a supporting character and again, this is like an origin story. I do feel bothered Lionel Ray wasn’t added but replaced with this Doyle character. I will admit that Doyle is silly, which is the point of his character. I guess the writers and director didn’t want two sensible cops or something. I like Kellaway alright, but I’ll always dig Lionel too.

I really wanted to get this point. I thought Cameron Diaz was good as Tina Carlyle and Amy Yasbeck as Peggy Brandt. I will admit, I do strangely like the subversion with Peggy in a way with it’s twist. I get the idea if that it was going for that theme of, “We all wear mask” and Peggy turning Stanley into the mob said a lot about her character. While Tina was genuinely the one that truly supported Stanley.

I think was surprised me more was the fact despite Peggy turned in Stanley for selfish purposes such as paying for her condo. Yet what surprised me more was she was actually concerned for Stanley being killed, and didn’t want him hurt...which explains even more why she stuck around in the cartoon. And honestly, it makes me glad the director took out that deleted scene of her getting killed. So she wasn’t that heartless.

Also...it made me think that...my ideas and changes towards her character...maybe hold some weight.

I’ll just put this out there too. Milo is great, one of my favorite fictional dogs maybe. Good dog.

Trying to think what else, the score was fine. But the licensed music was good or something. Overall, I think my negatives could be just...nitpicks. Such as the Big Head part I wanted to talk about. Listen, I understand this is a different version. I just feel it’s weird to call him, “The Mask” instead of Big Head. I know other characters mask in their name or something. But...some reasons, the name Big Head is there. I guess it’s because of the title or something.

Honestly, I think my negatives are more that it feels short. And maybe Stanley becoming Big Head a bit too early. I sound kind of stupid, I know. But this was the 90′s and whatever else. This was a different take on the comics. But I did genuinely like it. Maybe I’m just a bit attached to those comics. Despite knowing the changes they did.

But I will admit, considering the development for this film. And learning that it was meant to be a horror film. But the director Charles Russell found the violence in the source material to be off putting. So he made it less grim, and more fun. I’ve also read somewhere that trying to make comedy with that violence was difficult.

Back to the point, to be honest. I feel like for that time and age. A more light Mask film was maybe the best choice to go. And we wouldn’t have Jim Carrey in it. I do also wanna say, I feel like The Mask series, you can do a lot of it. You can have something dark with it, or maybe more lighter.

There are still some of those darker elements. Mainly considering the moments with the gangsters and all that. But I will admit, learning that Charles mostly directed horror films. I think it’s impressive he made a more family friendly film and it worked.

I liked it, despite my love for the comics. I thought when writing this, maybe some folks reading this may think I sound like fans who read the comics who first experienced this movie. But the film isn’t bad, it’s just a different take and a pretty nice one at that.

And to be honest, as much as I would of loved to see an actual sequel. And not that bad film known as Son Of The Mask. I understand why Jim Carrey dropped out, and I would’ve loved to see Peggy back because the director planned to bring her back reformed. But I feel like this film works as a one off in a way. And there’s also the cartoon, which works fine as a sequel despite some differences. Yet...I’ll admit, I would’ve loved The Mask 2 if we got Jim Carrey as Stanley again fighting against maybe someone like Walter.

The Mask 1994 is a good film. Despite changes from the source material, but the changes for this vision work. It’s cool this film has a cult following, and the fact I have used elements and story beats from it for The Mask Rebirth stuff I’ve been talking about. Even before watched this whole movie.

It’s a genuine fun flick. But I’m hoping down the line, if Warner Bros stops being fucking stupid with how they run things. Maybe we’ll get a reboot or how about an animated film that seems more true to the source material.

I know The Mask/Big Head doesn’t have a big legacy such as the likes of Superman, Batman, and Spider-Man. But I do think this series could be reimagined and expanded upon. Using elements not only from the original comics, but even the movie and cartoon.

And...despite it was because of Ace Ventura...I would like to thank @kaijuguy19 for being such a supportive dude, and talking about this franchise with me. Including wanting to talk about this movie long ago when I haven’t seen it. But I want to say...no...he’s one of the big reasons why I’m a fan. Because he’s one of the only guys I know who’s a fan. It started with Ace Ventura, but it was because of talking with Kaijuguy that I guess things started to escalate. So thanks man for talking about this stuff with me.

Also, Charlie was silly and he was fine as a character. I forgot about that dude despite wanting to talk about him. Gonna tag him too in case. Charlie schumaker

#GeekGem Rambles #the mask #the mask 1994 #jim carrey #stanley ipkiss #dorian tyrell #mitch kellaway #tina carlyle #peggy brandt #cameron diaz #amy yasbeck #peter greene #big head #charles russell #charlie schumaker

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ndoandou · 4 years ago

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Hi!! I saw your requests were open, so uh could I request an Ikevamp headcanon for Arthur, Theo, Vincent and Isaac reacting an MC who is super energetic. Like, as in she could literally dance around the mansion without having a care in the world? ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Yeah lol pls feel free to take your time with this request and have a nice day!! ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ

This is cute 😳😳

This ended up being wayyy longer than i thought it would be. Arthur's part went deeper than i thought it would be-

This is probably one of my longest headcanon/scenario, i hope you enjoy 😌

Lets say for context, MC is sweeping through the hall while humming, and as time went by her humming becomes louder. Eventually she straights up start singing while twirling and dancing around

Arthur

The first encounter with this trait of MC kind of surprised him. He wasn't expecting young lady to be this active and bright

Gets along very well with her actually

He doesn't mind her energetic personality, but sometimes in gets in the way when he is working on his stories.

He doesn't see her as "annoying" like what most people woukd describe her

He just thinks that she has so many things in her mind (in a good way) that she expresses them all at once //my mans pulling off a doctor doyle 😳

Arthur was in his room, trying to concentrate on his writing when he heard MC singing loudly outside

"I dare say, she is one active lady." Arthur said to himself as he exhaled.

Arthur got up and openned his bedroom door, revealing MC who was singing and dancing around with the broom

MC noticed arthur who was leaning on the door frame with a defeated expression

"Good afternoon to you arthur!" MC greeted him cheerfully, which then she went back to singing and dancing around

"Good afternoon to you too, dear" arthur said which MC probably didn't hear

Once he tried flirting with her but it all flew over her head

This one time MC and arthur was left alone and he tried to make a move on her

Arthur leaned over to MC's ear and whispered

MC seemed unbothered and let him lean over to her

"Seems like we're left alone, love.. would you like to have some fun?" Arthur whispered suggestively

MC was an innocent and very bright girl but she wasn't stupid

"Hm? No. Oh! Arthur can i ask you something?" MC asked unbothered by arthurs invitation

This took him by surprise

"Oh..ehm, go ahead poppet."

"Am i annoying?"

Arthur was blown away by her question.

"Annoying? No, no. That's not it, love. Why do you ask?" Arthur asked her curiously. He wasn't expecting this question from her.

"Ahahaha..! It's nothing important, its just when i lay down at night, i start realizing the unpleasant looks i get from some people whenever im doing something or saying something. I tell myself not to be annoying but i lose control of myself the next day." MC said cheerfully as if what she felt wasn't anything serious at all

Arthur felt really bad after hearing that. He realized that she was being misundertood badly.

He realized that behind that cheerfull personality, she had such deep thoughts

He wasn't expecting her to reveal her most vulnerable side to him out of everyone

He realized that the time he looked defeated arounded MC must have been in her memories

"Oh..oh dear me. I didn't know you felt that way, and im sorry if im one of those people who made you feel that way." Arthur said, with a sympathetic look on his face.

Arthur realized that MC never wanted to cause discomfort to anyone with how she is.

"Hmm i probably sounded REAL silly with what im saying, you can pretend that i never said anything, honestly!" MC said casually as she got up from her chair

"Wait! Hang on a second, poppet. Sit back down" arthur said as he gestured her to sit down, which she did

"I dont think you are annoying. You are just misunderstood, love. It seems to me that you have many going on in your mind that you express them all at once, like a big ball of energy." Arthur explained to her

MC's eyes widen

She found his explanation rather accurate

"Oh..you..you think so?" MC said taken back by the way arthur described her

"Yes, yes. I have an idea for you, poppet. If you want to learn how to express yourself better, how about you try writing all the things in your mind- in any form you want." Arthur suggested

MC's face lit up

"That sounds very fun!" MC exclaimed

"In fact, i want to do it now!" MC said as she jolted off her seat hurrying over to the door

"Oh, and thankyou very much arthur. You are the first person to understand how i feel" MC said smiling genuinely as she headed out

Arthur felt his heart skip a beat.

Without realizing, his cheeks were tinted pink

"By jove! What is this feeling?" Arthur said to himself

Surprisingly, MC was seen in the library writing away in peace most of the time, when she isn't doing her chores

If arthur was working on his own work, MC would sit next to him and start writing aswell

She would write poems

Everyone was worried if MC had fell sick because it was very unusual for her to be this quiet, but arthur just explained that she found herself a new hobby.

Mc would show arthur what she had written, and arthur woukd be blown away everytime.

Everyone got curious with what MC was writing, and when they read her poems, their brains just melted away

Even when vincent brought one of her poems to shakespeare, he became shookspeare

Everyone actually encouraged her to publish her works to the public

MC was excited with that idea, but she said she would give it a thought

Occasionally MC would be the ball of energy she was, but she settled down more

Vincent

He would find it extremely adorable!

Just combine MC and Vincent together would make them the angels of all angels

For context, vincent would be entering the mansions gate after visiting shakespeare

He noticed a dancing figure in the hallway through the window

As he entered the mansion, he could already hear MC's singing voice from the second floor

He goes upstairs and there was MC singing and dancing around with the broom

"Hello MC! You seem very energetic as always" vincent greeted with a smile

He would ask MC if she was singing a song from her time period

He would even ask her to teach him how to sing the song

Vincent isn't an energetic person, but MC's personality rubbed onto him

He would only be energetic around her as she is basically the catalyst xD

Vincent would end up dancing around with her, spinning around through the hallway, laughing and singing

The night after goofing around with MC, she was stuck in his head

He got up from his bed and went over to his art supplies.

He had the strong urge to paint her

The way she danced, sung, and laughed created a crystal clear image in his head

After spending the whole night painting, he was knocked out asleep from morning to afternoon

MC was sent by sebastian to wake him up

She recieved no answer when she knocked, which then she invited herself in

When she came in she saw a beautifully done painting of her

Feeling her heart skip a beat

For once she felt really shy instead of her energetic self

"V-vincent, its afternoon" MC shook his shoulder gently

Stirring up, vincent woke up

"Oh..good afternoon MC. Thats strange, usually you would yell at everyone to wake them up."

Being fully awake, he noticed that her cheeks were tinted red

"Whats wrong MC? You seem rather flushed" vincent asked softly

"The painting.. it's beautiful." MC said, smiling shyly

Realizing his painting was exposed in his room, he blushed into a deep shade of red.

He wasn't mentally ready for anyone ESPECIALLY her to see it

It went silent for a moment and they both avoided eye contact

Not being able to take any more of the awkward air, MC went back into character

She started giggling

"W-what are you embarrased for vincent?" MC said surpressing a laugh

"You tell me MC." Vincent said with a chuckle finally melting away from the awkward situation

Eventually they were both laughing full of joy, even everyone was wondering what was going on in vincent's room

Long story short, they are the inseperable ball of joy 😌

Theodorus

He finds it SO iritating but he can't bring himself to hate her

Despite being so annoying she still had that angelic aura that reminded him of vincent

He already finds the mansion's residents irritating (except vincent ofc) and they arent even as energetic as MC

Wont admit that he adores her at the same time

"HONDJE! For the last time, shut up!" Theodorus shouted, his head poking out of his bedroom door

He was trying to have his afternoon nap after a long day of wheeling and dealing some art.

"Dancing and singing is good for the mind and body! Would you like to join theo?" MC said ignoring his harsh tone

Looking at her with annoyance painted on his face, he glared at her then slammed his bedroom door shut

"Guess he doesn't.." MC said to herself, continuing to sing and dance around

A few hours after that theo payed vincent a visit in his room

He wanted to ask him for advice on how to deal with how loud and energetic MC is

He would have asked arthur but he would most likely give him advice on how to get into her pants

"Come in, what's bothering you?" Vincent invited him, noticing the conflicted look his brother had

Theo sighed folding his arms

"Broer, how do i get hondje to shut up? I keep yelling at her but she never stops" Theo asked, irritation clear in his voice

"Don't call her that! She's a very sweet person" Vincent scolded

"S-sorry broer.." theo appologized looking like a sad puppy

Vincent gestured theo to take a seat next to him

"Well, i understand where you are coming from. She is very energetic indeed." Vincent said

"So..how do i stop her from driving me crazy?" Theo asked

"You say you would yell at her to be quiet right? How about.. you try talking to her VERY nicely" vincent said, emphasizing the word "very"

Theo looked at his brother, confused

"Broer.. are you sure?" Theo asked

"Yes! She is someone you have to speak kindly to for her to listen. Trust your big brother!" Vincent said cheerfully

Vincent ended up teaching theo how to speak to MC the rest of the night

As expected, the next day MC was singing loudly once again

Theo was going to go shout at her but he remembered what his brother said

He gulped and exited his bedroom approaching her

MC who was singing and dancing stopped in her tracks when she noticed a figure standing behind her

She turned around greeted with theo who had a stiff expression

"Good day to you theo! How can i help you?" MC asked cheerfully

"I.. uh hond- i mean MC. C-could you please lower your voice p..please? I am- i'm trying to rest. I would v-very much appreciate y-your coopera..tion." Theo said stuttering allover the place while fidgetting

He wasn't used to being nice to people

It went silent for a bit

"Oh my! How strange, you aren't yelling at me! My appology theo, i didn't know i put you in such distress!" MC said with a guilty expression

Theo was blown away by her response as it just sounded way out of character, making him feel guilty

"O-oh! Don't worry, i appologize for always yelling at you." Theo said flailling his hands all over the place.

MC looked at him and started laughing softly

"O-oi! What are you laughing at hondje!" Theo exclaimed, his face red with embbarasment

Secretly, he felt refreshed after hearing MC laugh again

"Ahaha! My appologies, you just looked and sounded very adorable! It's..ahaha.. very unlike you theo!" MC said, laughing

Theo's brain stopped working, i mean did MC rly just call him adorable

"Whatever! Im going back to my room!" theo stomped away, face still red

"Alright, alright! Have a nice rest! MC said still giggling

Theo slammed his door shut and slumped down against the door

"Maybe.. hondje isn't that bad at all..." theo said to himself

ISAAC

Poor boy will have a mental breakdance

ESPECIALLY when hes reading or doing some cool kid stuff //p h y s i c s

Atleast she doesn't tag along with arthur and dazai...

He knows that she is a kind soul, just has too much energy >:(

He doesnt hate her of course! He just wish she would tone it down :(

Isaac was in the library reading a book when MC started humming while she sweeped the floor

The humming slowly became a string of "lalala" and soon enough she was singing

"Goodness me, MC! This isn't the first time you have distracted my concentration.." isaac said as he burried his face into the book he was reading

Considering how soft isaac's voice was generally, MC did not hear him.

Having enough of it, He shut his book close aggresively and proceeded to walk out the door, slamming the door

The sound of the door slamming alerted MC causing her to jump slightly

"That was really loud..where did isaac go?" MC asked to herself

That was when she heard the door open, revealing leonardo

"Hello leonardo! By any chance, did you come across isaac? He suddenly left and i dont know why..." MC said

Leonardo lit up a cigarrilo and spoke

"Ah yeah, by the looks of it.. you might have upsetted him by accident, cara mia. I saw him stomping through the hallway with a sour look on his face" leonardo said calmly, inhaling his cigarrilo

"W-wait what? I..upsetted him?" MC asked in disbelieve

Leonardo noticed the unsettled look on her face

"Calm down cara mia, here take a seat" leonardo said as he gestured her to take a seat in front of him

MC sat down with a conflicted look on her face

"Heres the thing cara mia- you are a very bright soul and isaac..he is a quiet kid. He finds loud noises distressing especially when he is focussing on something. In this case.. i assume you were singing loudly around him?"

This realization hit MC like a truck

"Oh no! I never meant to make him feel uncomfortable.." MC said sadly

"I need to make it up to him...but how?" Mc continued

Leonardo leaned back to his chair

"Well, as you know, isaac has a monstrous appetite. It will be his meal time in a bit. Maybe you could bring his meal to him and talk things out with him

MC's once gloomy face lit back up

"Thats a great idea! Thankyou very much leonardo!" MC said as she stood up, hurrying out of the library

When MC arrived in the kitchen, he was greeted by sebastian who was plating up some food and rouge.

"Good afternoon sebastian! Is that for isaac?" MC asked

"Indeed, why?" Sebastian asked curiously

"I will take it up to him, since i also have something to discuss with him" MC reasoned

Sebastian stared at her for a bit

"Very well." He said

As soon as sebastian finished plating things up, MC took the tray and headed to isaac's room

She took a deep breath and knocked his door

"Come in." He said calmly

MC went in and placed the tray next to him

Isaac looked up which then his face twisted into discomfort

"Oh..thankyou" he said simply

"Im sorry.." MC said sadly

Isaac's expression showed confussion

"Huh? Why are you apologizing?" He questioned

"You left earlier, because i was bothering you right?" MC questioned back

Isaacs heart melted a bit. He felt like he did something mean considering how he saddened someone who he thought would be the last person in the world to be sad

"Oh! Oh..that.." isaac exclaimed not knowing how to respond to her question

"I really am sorry. I have always been a loud and active person that sometimes i forget about the people around me. I just fall deep into my own world once i do something..." MC explained

Somehow isaac could relate to her words. He knows how it feels to be so engulfed in what you are doing that you just forget about everything else

Maybe her peronality is like his deep interest with physics..

"Dont worry about it... i kind of understand what you mean..im sorry for storming out like that" isaac said, guilt in his voice

It went awkwardly silent for a bit

"Oh! I have an idea! What if... you shout out "gravity" whenever im being too loud around you? Im 100% sure that will alert me!" MC suggested cheerfully

"P-pardon?" Isaac asked unsure if he heard her right

"I guess that was an awfull idea..." MC said as her expression dropped once again

Isaac felt really bad when he saw her sad expression

"N-no! I.. i will think about it.." isaac mumbled, which MC heard

"Really?! Thats great!" MC exclaimed

"So...are we on good terms now?" MC continued

"I suppose you could say so.." isaac said shyly

"Good, good! I will head out now, give me a shout if you need anything" MC said as she left the room

Since then MC and isaac had formed some sort of frienship. Leonardo was glad to see that isaac was finally speaking up, guess its thanks to MC that a tiny portion of her personality slightly rubbed onto him

The day came when MC was being too loud

This time, isaac was playing chess with arthur as dazai watched them

Just like always MC started singing loudly

Isaac took a sharp inhale

"GRAVITYYY" isaac shouted on top of his lung scaring arthur and dazai at the point they probably ascended to a different dimension

"Oh! Sorry isaac!" MC said

"Bloody hell, isaac! I know you came up with the concept of gravity, but what the on earth was that for?!" Arthur said with a hand on his chest that was beating fast

" i think i pooped myself" dazai said as he hurried out of the room holding his butt with his hands.

Isaac stayed quiet, not answering his question

"Back to the game please" isaac said calmly

Arthur just sighed still wondering what all of that was

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp headcanon #ikevamp headcanons

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 7, 2021: Wolfwalkers (Review)

Well, it’s not a 98%. Close enough, though...

Because this film is...fantastic. It’s amazing! Come on, it’s such a good movie, what else were you expecting? This one was a corker, it was just a good time. And I’m definitely watching this one again, I promise you that.

But here’s the real question: is it my favorite Cartoon Saloon film? Well...

Yeah, sorry, Song of the Sea still takes that role for me. And to be honest, The Breadwinner gives it a run for its money, too. Definitely better than The Secret of Kells, although...not that much better. I’ll elaborate, I promise. But this is still a great movie! ALL of Cartoon Saloon’s films are great movies, come on!

But, since it’s not a straight-up 100%, I’ll break it down, as well as my very unimportant issues with it. So, let’s get into it. Check out Part One and Part Two of the Recap for more, if you’d like!

Review

Cast and Acting: 10/10

Yeah, if this movie has one thing over the Ghibli films, it’s the voice acting. And yeah, I realize that I’m judging this English-language film vs. the dubbed Ghibli films, and that’s unfair. But even without the Ghibli films factored in...this movie’s got some fantastic voice acting. I can say quite honestly that there isn’t a weak performance in the bunch. Worst ones are probably the two farmers, and they’re completely fine. Climbing on up, we’ve first got Tommy Tiernan (as Sean, and he’s pretty great) and Simon McBurney (as Oliver Cromwell, and he does a fantastic job). Then, Sean Bean and Maria Doyle Kennedy as the concerned parents, and hot damn, they’re great. Kennedy barely gets time to shine, but is great when she does. And Bean? Holy shit, Sean Bean is fucking AMAZING in here!

But no...no, they’re all outright bad compared to the stars of the film, and some of the best young voice actors I’ve ever heard. Don’t know what it is about Cartoon Saloon, but they always get great kids for their films, and Honor Kneafsey and Eva Whittaker might be their best! These two are powerhouses of the film, and their voices inhabited those characters perfectly. I mean it when I say that these two were perfect. Bravo!

Plot and Writing: 8/10

Here’s where the film is a touch weaker than the other Cartoon Saloon films for me, because while this was a good story by Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, with great writing by Will Collins, it wasn’t their most impactful for me. It’s also, to be honest, quite predictable. Which, no, isn’t a bad thing for a kids’ movie, but it was noticeable. Here’s the thing: Song of the Sea wasn’t super predictable. I was touched and surprised by the ending, and it’s still my favorite of the Saloon films. The Breadwinner...oof, yeah, I had no idea how that one would end. And Kells wasn’t as unpredictable, but it also had some major surprises in store that kept me on my toes. But Wolfwalkers? Didn’t feel it. Knew that Moll would be OK at the end, and that was the main crux of the tension of the story. Now, that said...there were still definitely things that surprised me, like Bill getting bitten, and the two retaining their status as Wolfwalkers in the end. That did surprise me, and it definitely isn’t like the story was bad, even a little bit. Just was basically what I expected.

...Except for Cromwell dying. WHAT THE FUCK. The Cartoon Saloon universe has a REALLY interesting alternate history, I tell you what! Goddamn, I hope they do one that takes place in the USA with some of our folklore and mythology. Like...OOH, I GOT ONE. Paul Bunyan story! Do something with Bunyan and the Ox. Or OOH, EVEN BETTER, Pecos Bill! Actually, maybe not Pecos Bill. John Henry? Eeeeeh, that might be complicated. I dunno, but there’s something there, Cartoon Saloon! There is something there.

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

I mean...it’s Cartoon Saloon. It’s amazing. Tomm Moore is great again, joined this time by writing partner Ross Stewart. Looks like Nora Twomey is working on another film called My Father’s Dragon, and I am READY for that shit. But yeah, I mean...come on. It’s funny, because this movie’s production and release were heavily affected by COVID-19, and it doesn’t show. There is a single criticism that I can give to it, but it doesn’t belong in this section. Because the directing and cinematography are typically amazing. Goddamn beautiful. As for the one potential flaw...

Production and Art Design: 9/10

Understand: this is a nitpick. Bu if I had to pick on anything here, it’s simply the animation cells showing the sketches lying underneath. Now, Disney ended up doing this with an era of films in the 1960s and ‘70s (The Many Adventures of Winne-the-Pooh, Robin Hood, The Jungle Book, the Aristocats all did this), but it’s still a little distracting here. And that’s it. Character design is goddamn amazing, and actually made me want to start drawing a bit. The artistry of the backgrounds and set-pieces is stellar, and the stylized designs of Cartoon Saloon somehow never get old to me! It’s just...amazing. Like I said: the underlying sketch thing really is a nitpick, and I don’t even mind it, personally. It’s honestly good to see the work behind a 2-D animated movie, you know? So, yeah, just the one point.

Music and Editing: 10/10

Bruno Coulais and Kila knock this music out of the park all-around, and I have nothing negative to say about it. I’m not sure which track is going in my playlist, but one of them is. Maybe “Running with the Wolves”, and I’m only a little ashamed to admit that. OK, what about the editing by Richie Cody, Darren Holmes, and Darragh Byrne? I mean...yeah, it’s amazing, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Animated films rarely have poor visual editing (unless they’re REALLY bad), and the sound editing usually takes the hit. However, no such problem here. Again, sound editing is fantastic in this movie, from voice mixing to sound effects to overall balance. It’s all pretty goddamn great. No complaints here.

Yeah, 94%. I mean, of course, right?

Sure, it’s not Ghibli-levels of profound, but it is fantastic all the same. Who cares about profundity, anyway? It’s just a good goddamn movie! And like I said in the beginning, I’ll be watching this again very soon. Beautiful.

But I think it’s time to start wrapping up the animated portion of this month with something closer to home. Now, I’d love to do Disney, and I was actually going to see Raya and the Last Dragon in theaters this week (yeah, really, not kidding), but other stuff got in the way. And I’ve seen all Disney films other than that. So, what’s another fully American studio who’s produced a movie that I somehow haven’t seen? And, that movie has to be fantasy? Well...

March 7, 2021: Onward (2020)

#wolfwalkers #cartoon saloon #tomm moore #honor kneafsey #eva whittaker #Sean Bean #simon mcburney #tommy tiernan #maria doyle kennedy #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #nyssalance

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mgg-theprettiestboy · 4 years ago

Text

cross my heart (pt. 2)

spencer reid x oc

cross my heart masterlist

word count: 2118

It was a week later that Spencer bumped into her again.

He had just gotten back from a four day case in New Mexico, and had hardly slept during the case, so he slept on the flight home. And when they landed at night, he was fully awake, despite it being 10pm. So, after hours of restlessness, he decided to go to his favourite little corner of the world.

This time, there was no chaos. There was no yelling, or cursing, or collapsing of books. There was the faint sound of music, and an overwhelming smell of coffee, and that ‘new book smell’, despite the fact that most of the books were in fact, rather old.

And the sight of Raye sitting cross legged on one of the sofas, reading. It wasn’t a Narnia book this time, but she looked just as invested in it.

“Reid, hey,” Tamara said, her voice strained. He dragged his eyes over to her, moving closer to the counter. It was only then that he saw her eyes were red and puffy, and she wasn’t making direct contact. He didn’t want to pry or overstep, but he was tired and he usually didn’t have a filter anyways, and concern drove his actions, “hey, are you okay?”

Tamara huffed a laugh, her eyes darting to Raye, before back to the doctor, “had a fight with my girlfriend. It happens, don’t worry. What can I get for you?”

It didn’t take a profiler to tell that she didn’t want to talk about it, so Spencer just ordered a coffee. Whilst she made it, he wandered over to the bookshelf to pick out a book. He had read them all already, but would happily reread them again. Tamara kept the book collection flawless, it was mostly classic literature, and older books, all of which Spencer would read. He didn’t think he would like there it as much, if it was all bad sci-fi and cheesy romances.

He glanced back to Raye, trying to sneak a peak at the title of her book. He was surprised to see her looking at him. They both looked away bashfully, Spencer trying to fumble with a book to make himself look busy, as Raye buried her face in her book, literally this time.

She thought he was kinda cute, obviously. Who didn’t? He had the kind of hair she wanted to rake her hands through, and these puppy dog eyes. Not to mention the fact that he was heads taller than her. He was wearing a purple dress shirt and tie, but last time she saw him, he had a cardigan on. And she couldn't help but notice the converse on his feet. That made her smile.

Plus, he had this wholesome vibe. He was always nothing but polite, and had such a kind face. Raye could bet he was a momma’s boy.

“Do you have any recommendations?” His voice broke her out of her trance, her eyes meeting his, “huh?”

“I trust your taste. Is that Austen?” Spencer said, tipping his head at the book she held, “between C. S. Lewis and Jane Austen, I think your opinions on books are solid, from my observations so far. So, do you have any recommendations?” As previous mentioned, Spencer had read all the books before. He didn't know why he was asking her. Actually, yes he did, he was just to embarrassed to admit it to himself.

“Have you ever read any Arthur Conan Doyle? Sherlock is one of my favourite characters to exist, like, ever. Movies and shows don't do him justice,” Raye said with a soft smile, her hand trailing up and down the spine go her book, as if it were a cat or something else comforting, “I think there’s a copy of The Hounds Of Baskerville on the shelf.”

Spencer didn’t even know he was smiling, until he realised it was border-lining a grin. He turned back to the shelf, scouring over the titles to find the one he suggested. All the while, Raye was trying to stomp at the butterflies in her stomach. She would squish them with her bare hands if she had to.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” he said once he found the book, turning to her, “I’ll be sure to give you my thoughts once I’m done.”

“Please, do. But if they're anything but positive, then I don't think we’ll be good friends,” she said with a smile. Spencer returned it, nodding at her before going to read a book that he had read 65 times already. But who was counting?

They continued doing this for weeks to come. If Spencer came back to the cafe at a ridiculous hour, she would be there. 96.4% of visits resulted in him seeing her. And he would give his thoughts on a book she had recommended, or vice versa, as he would begin to recommend books to her as well.

They would never share a table, though. Never have a full, proper conversation. Spencer couldn’t figure out if he was being a chicken, or if he was picking up the right signals; that Raye didn't want to talk to him. She would always indulge his thoughts on literature, but as soon as the conversation would steer elsewhere, she would shy away. She wouldn't even look at him. Maybe she was shy? Nervous? Spencer understood that more than anyone. Still, he was nothing if not a gentleman, and never pushed any further.

But he figured that if he didn't push, he would never get anywhere with her. And did he want to get somewhere? He didn't know. But part of him was curious, part of him wanted to know more about her, more than just what she thought about writings. Was that odd? The last time he felt like this was with... was with Maeve. But this felt different.

And he wanted to know more about her.

It had been three days since he saw her, and he was already getting antsy. It was a paperwork day for him, so he had no excuse to be awake, other than he was restless at the thought of her, alone, sitting in the cafe, completely absorbed in a good book, and content with a hot chocolate.

And his imagination was nothing if not accurate. She was reading Bronte this time, and an empty hot chocolate sat on the table beside her. She didn't seem as stressed, like she was last week, when reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. She seemed relaxed, and completely and utterly satisfied. A good book can work wonders, Spencer thought.

Tamara wasn't working, which made this a little easier for him. One less set of watching eyes. Spencer ordered a cappuccino and hot chocolate, trying to steady his shaky hands as he brought the cups to her table. He couldn't even think of what to say, so he just simply sat the hot chocolate on her table.

“I didn't order-? Oh, Spencer, hello,” Raye relaxed at seeing him, before her brows furrowed in confusion, “what's this?”

“An apology hot chocolate, for my most recent recommendation. I know you didn't enjoy Frankenstein that much, I watched you as you read it,” he said, and she sighed, “was it that obvious?” “It was, yeah. Not a fan of the genre, I get it,” he said with a laugh, making her smile, “well, thank you. I owe you a coffee then.”

“No, don't be ridiculous, you don’t owe me anything. Except maybe another recommendation,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice making her smile, “uh. okay. I think I can do that. The Da Vinci Code.”

He gave her a deadpanned look, making her throw her head back and laugh, “c’mon, we agreed to read whatever the other one suggested, regardless.”

“I saw the movie. Seriously?” He grimaced, and she giggled. He was quick to stop grimacing.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, really. Besides, the only make a movie if the book is popular. And books are popular, ‘cause they’re good,” she retorted. He nodded slowly in thought, “you pose a good point... fine. I’ll read it.”

Raye grinned in victory, before sitting up to rummage through her bag, “believe it or not, Tam doesn't actually have a copy of it in the shop, so I brought my copy from home. And whenever you're finished with it, just throw it on a shelf in here. Someone else can enjoy it, or I’ll find it again.”

Spencer took the book she handed him, smiling softly at seeing the worn edges and turned corners, “I’ll make sure to get it home safely, don't worry.”

There was a beat of silence, and before she could say anything, he spoke, “is it okay if I sit here?” “With me?” She asked, as if she was unsure of what he was asking. He replied, “with you.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, but was quick to nod. Baby steps, Spencer thought. He sat down, sitting his cappuccino and newest read on the table, before smiling at seeing the book she held, “Vilette, huh?”

She smiled, holding the book close to her chest, “I’m a sucker for a good romance novel. Have you read it?”

“Years ago. I’ve already expressed my distaste for the romantics, but that is a classic,” he said, lifting his coffee to take a drink, “did you know that Charlotte Bronte’s first book was rejected by every publisher in England? They didn't approve of women authors. when she wrote to the poet Robert Southey, he replied saying that ‘literature cannot be the business of a woman’s life, and it ought not to be’.”

“Sexism’s a bitch,” Raye said with a sigh, resting her head in her hand as she looked Spencer over once, “how do you know so much? Every time you talk, its like you’ve memorised a million facts to support your own argument.”

He squirmed slightly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck, “I, uh, I have an eidetic memory.”

“Whats that?” Raye asked. And for once, Spencer didn't hear any sort of confusion or disinterest in the question. She was curious.

Spencer stuttered, before he began to explain, “eidetic memory is a memory that retains everything you read. So everything I read, I remember. And I read a lot.”

“I watched you read one day, and I couldn't believe it. You finished a novel in like four minutes. That’s insane,” she said, and he blushed slightly, “I can read just over 20,000 words a minute.”

“Holy shit. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted! You–you can just binge read books in seconds, and then never forget them! You can memorise every amazing detail,” she exclaimed excitedly, before slumping back in her seat, “man, I’m jealous of you.”

He chuckled, “it does have its advantages, I’ll admit.”

She tilted her head, and Reid couldn’t help but compare her to a confused puppy in that moment, “are there disadvantages?”

He shrugged slightly, breaking eye contact to look at his hands, “sometimes I begin to ramble, because I just... I know a lot about something, and then I get excited because I think that people are like me, that they want to learn more about the world. They usually don’t. And then I feel so–“

“Then they’re assholes,” Raye interupted, and Spencer looked back to her. There was a slight redness to her cheeks now, “if someone shoots you down while you’re talking about something you’re passionate about, then they’re an asshole.”

He smiled softly, glancing down to his book bashfully, “thats nice of you to say.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I don't like bullies,” she said firmly, “and I think you're cool. And I think the things you know are cool too.”

He laughed softly, smiling down at his book. He felt all warm at her words, but was still to embarrassed to look back up at him.

“I like peonies,” Raye said randomly, before shaking her head as she realised how strange that sounded, “do you know any facts about peonies?”

Spencer looked up to her, before nodding slowly, “peonies represent wealth and honour. They’re the flower you traditionally receive on your twelfth wedding anniversary, did you know they’re native to...”

Spencer rambled on about peonies for another ten minutes, and talked about more and more flowers for the rest of the night. Raye clung onto his every word, smiling and nodding enthusiastically, responding when she could. And it was genuine. Spencer knew when someone was feigning interest, but not her. And for a brief moment, he let himself hope, that maybe, just maybe, she might want to know more about him too.

NEXT CHAPTER

yes, raye brought the book with her to the cafe, in the hopes that she would run into spencer and give it to him :)

taglist: @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @fallinallinmendes @beyonces-breastmilk @spencerlikesapplejuice @pastathighs @gcblers @hushfakebitches @ijustcomeheretoread @thelovelyrose @leam-2001 @madison-malfoy @averyhotchner @haylaansmi

#mgg #spencer reid #mgg angst #mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fic #mgg gifs #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader #mgg gif #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say.

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu-

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers.

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag list is open. Go like that post if you’d like to be notified when Emily content is posted.

@iamyouknow-yours @mortallythoughtfulgurl @spencerreidistoocute @vivianabakshani @garcias-batcave @davidrossiismydad @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @criminalmindsmoodrn @miidguardian-exe @thestrawberrygirl @lisztomaniacalice @aaron-hotchner187

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toloveawarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Ch. 1

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle x Mina Van Gogh x Charles Henri Sanson

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @youreawizardharr (please let me know if you want to be tagged)

A/N: First new oc of the 12 Days of OCmas! Eventual poly-ship. All the Van Gogh siblings will make appearances in this fic!

The dark sky shielded all light from reaching the path outside of the city. Steady rain fell into her soaked form, seeping its cold down into her bones. Trudging along the cobblestones with water pooling in her boots, the young girl shivered. Winter weather wrapped in a rainstorm was not ideal for the long walk.

She exhaled, like dragon’s breath spilling from her mouth, it hung in the air. Mina’s steps sluggish with the numbness spreading across her frigid limbs. This was the only opportunity she’d been given to escape and get this close to the mansion.

Hesitating at the large double doors, she cast a worrying glance behind her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic to fear that someone might be following her. That’s how overprotective her eldest sister was, or rather, how controlling. If she found out, Mina didn’t know what punishment might await.

“How long are you planning on loitering at the door?” The harsh voice paired perfectly with narrowed violet eyes and an annoyed frown. He held the door at a crack, opposed to letting her in.

Mina only paused for a second. “I’m looking for Vincent.”

“Why?”

Why was this man so concerned? Perhaps she should admit that she was also a lesser vampire, but she chose not to. “I’m a friend of his. He’ll want to see me.” That was only half the truth, but it was enough to get her entry.

He demanded that she wait there, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

Alone, Mina investigated the entrance. The whole room warm and bright, like a real home. Not like the place that she lived, which was empty and dark. A stark difference. She let out a soft sigh, brushing her wet bangs away from her face.

“I heard we had a guest. What a pretty little skirt.” The curious man descended the stairs, sauntering up to her as if she were solely there to see him. A wicked grin grew on his lips. “Hello there, love. I’d be delighted to know your name.”

He was very close. Mina found it impossible to look directly at him. If she stared into those blue pools too long, she might absolutely drown. “I’m Mina.” Her voice failed her, barely above a whisper.

“Mina, I’m Arthur. It’s lovely to meet you. What brings you to our humble home?” He asked. She was nervous, pulse racing. Her gaze couldn’t settle. But no, he found no ill intent.

“I- well-”

“Broer, you shouldn’t meet with strangers. I can handle this.”

“It’s alright, Theo. They came all the way here. It must be important.”

Oh, she was not prepared.

All her psyching herself up sizzled out completely.

Arthur observed her behavior with mild curiosity. How interesting. “You’re familiar with Theo and Vincent, are you?” He kept hold of her hand, brushing his thumb gently across her knuckles. It must have been them that brought her here.

“Oh, Arthur, you’re here, too. Mozart said there was someone here for me,” Vincent said, his protective little brother right behind him. No one received visitors, so he’d been quite surprised.

Mina stiffened at his voice, one that she had terribly missed. But her fears overtook her. She needed a moment to calm down, that’s all.

“Oi, is that her?” Theo’s gruff tone did not aid in soothing her nerves.

She was so very grateful that neither of them could see her. Mina reached out a shaky hand to clutch Arthur’s jacket. Her head shook slowly. “I- help-please--” Her voice just loud enough for the mystery writer to hear.

He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but who was he to deny a lovely maiden in need. “I’m not sure,” Arthur replied to the brothers, tugging Mina forward protectively into his arms. “But this sweet skirt is here for me, and you’re frightening her terribly, Theo.”

“The hell did I do?” Theo asked, irritation laced in his voice.

“Well, I suppose it must not have been that important. I’m sorry we interrupted,” Vincent replied.

It hurt more than she realized. The dull ache in her chest turning sharp. Only once they’d gone could she breathe fully again. A gloved hand rested atop her head as a silent comfort. “Oh, I’m sorry-” She pulled away, heat flushing her cheeks.

“Let’s get you some dry clothes and then you can tell me all about why you’re here.” Arthur said, arm falling around her small shoulder, guiding her to his bedroom. What a curious situation he’d found himself in.

Only when the door to his bedroom close did Mina relax. My apologies, luv, but this is the smallest I could find. The clothes in her hands would be baggy, but she cared little when soaked to the bone. However, the trousers staying up would be quite the problem.

“Hmm, let’s try this,” Arthur said, still snickering at how tiny the woman looked in his clothes, and the hint of pink on her cheeks at his teasing was adorable. She’d be thrilling to play with, he thought. But first, he produced a pair of suspenders, clipping it to the front and back of the trousers and adjusting the length.

Mina was hyper aware of his hands occasionally brushing against her body. “Th-thank you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” She apologized. How embarrassing. He must think her some kind of coward.

The writer plopped on the chaise, patting the space beside him. “There’s no need for that beautiful face to have such a sad expression. I helped you because I wanted to, so there’s absolutely no reason for apologies. I am curious about your business with dear ole Vincent.”

His hypothesis currently was that she was a long-lost child. Her bone structure similar, and eye color the same cerulean blue. Physically, save for the raven locks, she fit the part. The only missing piece was that the author couldn’t fathom the gentle Vincent having a fling.

“No, I...” Mina couldn’t draw her gaze away from his, as if he were holding her there to peek at her darkest secrets. Besides, after all he’s done for her, lying would be rude. “I’m Willemina Van Gogh, the fourth child and youngest sister of the Van Gogh family, and I’m also a resurrected vampire, like my brothers and you.”

Arthur searched her but found no lies. She surely believed that she was a vampire, and it would account for how she managed to come to this mansion unimpeded. Most humans didn’t know this place existed. But what fun would it be to simply accept her word. A sly smirk spread across his lips. “Alright, then why don’t you just give me a little bite? You must be parched, after all.”

Mina flushed, surprised by his proposal. Since vampires were a well-kept secret, of course she couldn’t just say it was so. Something about his cheeky tone lit a fire of determination in her. “Alright. If you want proof, then I’ll bite you.”

“Ah, grand! No need to be shy,” Arthur teased, tilting his head to the side, and tapping his neck with his index finger. She was to do it, which absolutely thrilled the writer.

The room’s temperature rose. Mina leaned in slow, convincing herself that she’d be quick and not drink his blood. He smelled of ink and fudge, a strange but alluring mixture. A streak of smudged black ink showed some frustration from his work.

Deep blue irises studied the woman. “Something the matter, luv?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, his adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke, drawing her in. Mina didn’t answer with words, instead sinking her fangs in. His warm blood coated her tongue, and a low moan escaped from the author’s lips, only making her desire to hear it more.

Mina could lose herself entirely with only a sample of his blood.

But she maintained self-control and pulled away, licking the last drops of the delicious nectar off her bottom lip.

Vampire bites were meant to soothe human prey. They stung, and then spread pleasure in order to subdue them into submission. It affected vampires similarly, except it tended to only make them crazed for each other.

Arthur was buzzing with desire. His features flushed, throat dry, and body burning with need for her blood. He hooked an arm around her waist, hauling her into his lap. Her cerulean irises begging for him to continue.

If only he’d locked his door before he’d begun this little game.

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” Theo had thrown the door open hard enough to knock it from its hinges. He’d heard from Mozart that there wasn’t two women in the mansion, only one.

Mina jerked back from Arthur’s embrace, falling promptly onto the floor. “T-theo!” She yelled in absolute embarrassment, forgetting entirely that he had little idea of who she was. All that swam through her mind was that he’d seen her so intimately with a man.

His eyes narrowed, trying to puzzle out why she knew his name.

One gentle but shocked voice covered all the others. Vincent hardly needed an introduction as he recognized her straight away. How could he forget his darling little sister of whom he’d been so close to?

“Will? You’re... alive?”

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp charles #ikevamp mina van gogh #ikevamp oc #new oc!

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sodone-withlife · 4 years ago

Text

glass is fragile

Criminal Minds Fic Part Two

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: implied character death

Notes: cross-posted on Ao3. this is the result of a random idea I had because while I love Hotchniss, I love the idea of the two meeting in college and keeping in contact with Hotch being an overprotective brother

fortuna vitrea est; tum cum splendet frangitur (fortune is glass; just when it gleams brightest it shatters) - Publilius Syrus

“I’ve got five names on the bottom of the list Prentiss gave us,” Morgan said, walking towards the case board. “Luke Renault, Lawrence Riley, Lyla Rafferty, Lyle Rogers, Landon Raines.”

“All with the initials L.R.” Seaver pointed out.

“The CIA uses cryptograms like that to assign non-official cover agents working the same case,” Hotch remarked.

“So do other foreign countries,” Morgan added. “These last five names are covers—spies,” he said, pointing at the document.

“Wait,” Garcia said, taking the document. “No, this isn’t right,” she said, pointing at the page. “Do you see this space? That shouldn’t be here.”

“Could it be a formatting error?” Reid asked.

“No, this is a spreadsheet template,” Garcia answered. “Formatting doesn’t allow for this, there’s a missing name on here.”

“It’s another spy whose cover is L.R.” Hotch said quietly, looking to the elevator and mentally preparing to give the looming long-winded explanation.

“‘Lauren Reynolds is dead,’” Reid said aloud behind him.

“What?” Hotch turned around in shock, having not heard that name spoken aloud in years.

“‘Lauren Reynolds is dead,’” Reid repeated, “Prentiss said that on a phone call seventeen days ago, but her intonation wasn’t surprise or grief, it was like a mantra, like she was reminding herself.”

As Reid continued talking, Hotch pulled out his phone and dialed her number, hoping like hell his hunch about what she's doing is just that—a hunch.

“If Prentiss is the last name on that list, she’s on Doyle’s list, too,” Seaver said.

Hotch followed the sound of a ringtone to Emily’s desk and opened the first drawer. “Guys,” he cut into the team’s discussion, holding the gun and badge she’d left behind out for them to see.

“She left her badge and gun? Why would she do that?” Morgan asked, confused. Hotch placed them back down and grabbed his other phone, pulling up his messages.

<< It’s T, isn’t it.

>>He’s going after us, he’s threatened the others.

<<Blackbird.

<<Where are you?

<<What are you doing?

>>I’m sorry.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Reid turned back to the others, uncomprehending. “Why run? We’re her family, we can help.”

“Doyle’s killing families,” Rossi pointed out in realization. “She’s not married, not close to relatives—”

“Last night, Doyle verbally threatened to kill us,” Hotch said, looking up as his worry for Emily’s safety returned in full force.

“How do you know that?” Morgan asked suspiciously. In response, Hotch held out his phone and played the recording Emily had sent over last night.

“Aaron, Doyle mentioned all of us except you. Why?” Rossi asked, noting the distinct lack of any threat directed at the unit chief. Hotch didn’t answer, looking out through the glass doors towards the elevators. The others followed his line of sight.

“JJ?” Garcia stood up and dashed over to the long-missed blonde, who was standing in the doorway.

“I’ve called the State Department for permission to have someone come over and shed light on Emily’s past. Officially, I can’t tell you anything,” Hotch told the profilers who were staring in shock, “but JJ can.”

~~~

“Okay, so I talked to a friend from Langley, he couldn’t give me Emily’s full CIA history, but he could give me this,” JJ said, turning to the TV screen. “She assumed the identity of Lauren Reynolds as part of a special task force called JTF-12.”

“I heard about them,” Rossi remarked, “They were profiling terrorists, weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” JJ answered. “Assembled after 9/11, CIA and Western agencies contributed their ‘best and brightest’.”

“But serial killers and terrorists have different personality traits,” Seaver pointed out.

“How does Doyle fit in?” Reid asked.

“He was their last case,” JJ said, “and now the JTF is on his hit list.”

“Jeremy Wolff was victim number one, from Germany’s BND,” she began, focusing on the pictures on the screen. “Sean McAlister at Interpol was the second and was the one who brought the JTF in on Doyle. He was murdered last week in Brussels with his wife and daughter,” JJ said softly, flicking a brief look at Hotch, who had squashed down his reaction.

“Tsia Mosely of France’s DCRI—she got engaged to Jeremy earlier this year and fled here when he died,” JJ continued and sent another look at Hotch, who took a breath and steeled himself for the barrage of accusations and questions he was sure to get.

His picture appeared on the screen.

“Hotch?” They turned to look at him in confused shock.

“It wasn’t my prerogative to tell you,” he moved around the table and took the remote from JJ, looking at the other profilers. “None of you had the clearance for this, and there wasn’t time between the numerous phone calls I had to make in order to get JJ back here.”

“I understand you have questions, but we need to focus on Emily,” he said firmly, turning to the screen. “Clyde Easter of the British SIS was the leader. I’ve talked to him over the phone twice and he was in DC last I heard, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since Tsia’s murder.”

“You were involved in the Doyle case?” Rossi asked. Are you safe? went unasked but was heard by everyone.

“I’m well aware of the danger I am in,” Hotch said, “but if I’m right, he’s going to be too fixated on Emily to care much about me, though I’ve had precautions in place since we first found out he escaped.”

“Did you ever make any arrests? Maybe that’s why he’s after you?”

“No, the host countries always took care of that and we just moved onto the next case. Given the shadowy nature of terrorist cells, we were mostly involved in infiltration.”

“Who was undercover on Doyle?” Reid asked.

“Emily,” JJ answered.“She posed as another weapons dealer and met him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla.” JJ paused, looking at Hotch apprehensively.

He took over, knowing what she was hung up on. “The recon we did on Doyle included a background on all of his previous romantic relationships, and… ” he trailed off, hesitating, “she’s exactly his type.”

~~~

“Prissy, where the hell are you?”

“Oh, is that worry that I hear, Iceman?”

“Blackbird’s in Boston, isn’t she.”

“Is that a question?”

~~~

“Emily walked into a trap,” Garcia said shakily, pointing at the screen. “It looks like Doyle got into the SUV, but from this angle, you can see that he didn’t, which I wish Boston PD would have told me before I started watching it.” She looked at the others apologetically. “Sorry again for the screaming.”

“She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car,” Morgan said incredulously. “She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

“Well, three bad guys,” Rossi pointed out.

“Illegal as it is, when you’re dealing with the likes of Doyle, who has nothing to lose,” Hotch said softly, staring into space, “you have to be as ruthless as he is and act the same way.”

“So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?” Rossi asked.

“Well, the mole must have told him, right?” JJ suggested. “The same guy who’s been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents?”

“And our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash,” Seaver said.

“Let me take care of Prissy—Clyde,” Hotch amended when the nickname garnered him strange looks. “The rest of you focus on Doyle’s location.”

“I hate to be the one to ask this,” Garcia hesitantly spoke up, looking to Hotch. “But how long does Emily have?”

He remained silent for a moment. “Doyle saved her for last because she is his stressor—she had an intimate connection with him,” Hotch blew out a breath and focused his gaze on the analyst. “He’ll take his time.”

A horrified silence fell over the group. He stood up, unable to bear the heavy tension and fear, and walked into the jet’s bathroom. He leaned on the counter for support and took a few deep breaths, trying not to spiral into a panic.

“How long have you known Emily?” Rossi asked quietly, having followed behind him.

“Fall of ‘89,” he answered, feeling faint amusement at the older man’s surprise. “Yale; I was an ambitious law school student while she was a goth sophomore student. We saw each other again when I did some work for the Ambassador, then again when JTF was formed. Clyde always referred to me as the overprotective big brother even though she’s a year older than me.”

“Did you know about Emily and…?” Rossi trailed off, unsure as to how he should phrase the question.

“I had my suspicions,” Hotch admitted. “I wasn’t there to see her after she was extracted, but I talked to her afterward, and something was definitely different.”

~~~

“October 2006. ‘In closing, I have never worked with a finer agent than Emily Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing and predicting terrorist behavior is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted,” Hotch looked up at the Englishman. “I knew something was off when I read her personnel file those years ago. Buzz words, the like—you sold her to the bureau just like you sold Doyle to the North Koreans.”

Clyde remained silent as Hotch continued to stare at him. “It takes a skilled sociopath to betray his team and the cause he held dear for self-preservation.”

He leaned forward, expression dark. “If anything happens to Emily, I swear I will destroy you, our past history be damned.”

Finally shifting in his spot, Clyde sent an appraising look over Hotch. “You were the best,” he said, “but you’re slipping. I’m disappointed.”

Hotch looked at him dispassionately. “My team and I will get Doyle with or without you. Pack lightly—Guantanamo gets humid.”

He turned away as Clyde chuckled behind him. “Nice try,” the Englishman said, “but I’m curious. If I’m the sociopath, then I should feel no empathy, correct?”

“Oh, you’re not the sociopath,” Hotch corrected him, turning around at the doorway. “Doyle is.”

He carefully looked Clyde up and down. “Weren’t you a better profiler?”

~~~

“Did you know Jeremy sold the list to Doyle?” Hotch asked, sitting across from Clyde.

“I had my suspicions,” Clyde admitted casually.

“So when you got to DC, you couldn’t trust Tsia, either. Emily and I read your doubt as duplicity,” Hotch said, leaning forward. “Emily is in trouble, and you need to help me brief the team on the original profile so we can combine that with who he is now as a serial killer.”

“Aaron, you know that Doyle is going to escape from one of your American prisons as easily as he did in North Korea,” Clyde retorted. “There is no catching that man, you have to put a bullet in his brain yourself.” He looked at Hotch seriously. “You, as an FBI agent, took an oath to protect the laws of your country. Can you break your oath, Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch shook his head, understanding his intent and opting for a different answer.

“I can take one.”

There was a knock on the door, which opened to show JJ. “The British consul’s here,” she told the men.

“Could you tell him I’ll be right out?” Clyde requested, not looking away from Hotch. “I’m consulting with the BAU on a case.”

~~~

The profilers stood around quickly set up table and case boards in the Boston field office, Clyde and Hotch at the head of the table.

“Ian Doyle is a power-assertive psychopath. Highly controlling and very explosive when something doesn’t go as planned,” Clyde informed them.

“Okay, so how does this fit in with who he is as a family annihilator?” Seaver asked.

“And Prentiss’ role in it,” Rossi added.

“Annihilators have a romanticized view of who their family is,” Reid suggested.

“Actually,” Hotch interrupted, “he was an orphan.”

“Well, they think of family as their possession until some law shatters that and starts them killing,” Morgan offered.

“Doyle was never married,” Clyde said.

“Children?” Rossi asked.

“No.”

“You run your profile that he carried out his murders with surgical-like precision,” Reid interjected, holding out a photo of the dead child.

“Yeah.”

“With no collateral damage,” Morgan continued, which Clyde and Hotch confirmed.

Rossi looked up, an idea coming to him. “Perhaps this child was a surrogate for one he had.”

“Say Doyle had a child and you didn’t know about it,” Seaver suggested hypothetically, turning to Clyde. “Is it possible that Prentiss did?”

“Then why would she keep it from me?” Clyde asked as if the idea was inconceivable. Hotch raised an eyebrow and let out a scoff, earning himself a look from the Englishman.

“First name Declan,” Hotch told Garcia, ignoring Clyde. “Adoptive guardian Louise Jones, Doyle’s housekeeper. Emily moved them here to Boston eight years ago and she told me she made sure they’re safe. Anything beyond that, a last name, I don’t know.”

“Declan and his mother went missing seven years ago,” Garcia said, typing rapidly. “Bodies were never found… wait, what’s this?” Multiple pictures popped up on her screen. “God, someone took pictures of them being shot,” she said, horrified.

“Is there an address?” Hotch demanded.

“That looks like a warehouse,” Garcia said as she entered in the specifiers. “It’s gotta be big enough to house a small army. That’s weapons, supplies, let’s see, which means it has its own perimeter…” she trailed off, hitting enter. “1518 Adams Street,” she read from her screen.

“Hold on, look at the photos,” Reid interjected, taking a closer look at the screen.

“It’s black clothing and a hand, Reid,” Morgan said, confused.

“No, look at the fingernails,” he corrected, pointing to the screen.

Garcia let out a gasp as she realized what Reid was talking about. “Oh my god.”

~~~

“Agent Prentiss is the only friendly in the building,” Hotch briefed the listening agents, ballistics vest on. “Rescuing her is our primary objective.”

“Our only advantage here is stealth,” Morgan said. “Once they know we’re on site, there’s nothing to stop them from killing her, so we keep it quiet until we get to her… ”

~~~

“Cut the power.”

~~~

“I got her!”

~~~

“Come on, stay with me!”

~~~

“She never made it off the table.”

~~~

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“She’s my friend, and so are you. I want to protect her and make sure you don’t fall under this weight.”

~~~

<< Stay safe

>>You too

~~~

“Prissy, where are you hiding out right now?”

“Good to hear from you too, Iceman. The Golden City. oh, and I know she’s alive.”

“Glad to hear your habits haven’t changed a bit.”

~~~

“How are you doing?”

“The others aren’t as mad as I expected.”

“Red tape, writing up report after report for bureaucrat after bureaucrat, they’re more perceptive than you give them credit for. However, I don’t believe I asked about them, I believe I asked after you.”

“I think cleaning up this mess while trying to go about life with an international criminal potentially out for my blood is a fitting punishment for my failings.”

~~~

“I get it. We’re a family, and it’s important that families talk, and holding it in will just make this sick, sad feeling of awfulness more awful,” Garcia said, “right?”

Hotch allowed himself a brief upturn of his lips at her rambling before sobering up. “Internalizing does make it worse,” he agreed.

“I’ll talk, but I don’t want to talk about her being gone,” Garcia said softly. “Can I talk about how she made me smile?”

A pang shot through Hotch’s heart at her hopeful question as he thought back on the close relationship the women had with each other.

“Of course.”

~~~

“The last time I was on a couch like this was when my father left,” Reid mused quietly. “They all thought I needed to talk, but developmentally I wasn’t guided by conscience—I could only reveal what my mother and my teachers told me was acceptable.”

“You told them exactly what they wanted to hear,” Hotch summed up, not showing just how much that hit home. “You don’t have to do that here. Yell, curse at me, whatever you need to do.”

The genius swallowed. “It’s just unfair that she’s gone,” he said, barely holding back tears. “It’s like if we can’t keep each other safe, then why are we even doing any of this?”

Hotch remained silent as Reid continued. “It’s… sometimes I think maybe—maybe Gideon was right, you know. Maybe…” he trailed off, staring into space. “Maybe it’s just not worth it.”

~~~

Morgan sighed, leaning back on the couch. “So I came in here to do what? Talk about losing Emily?” He shook his head when he received no answer. “Strauss put you up to this?”

“The assessment’s routine,” Hotch finally said. “I asked her to let me do it rather than bring in somebody from the outside. Thought it might be preferred, even with my role in this mess.”

“So let me guess—it’s about the five stages of grief,” Morgan let out a breath. “You want to figure out where we all are.”

Hotch looked at him expectantly, remaining silent, much to Morgan’s annoyance.

“All right,” Morgan said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. “Denial. I’m fine, this can’t be happening to me—well it didn’t happen to me, did it?” he started. “So that rules that out. What else is there—bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Well, obviously, I haven’t accepted it, otherwise I wouldn’t be in here,” he looked at Hotch. “So where does that leave me?”

“Angry.”

“Angry,” he repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I want to quit my job and spend my time chasing down the son of a bitch who killed Emily. You’re damn right I’m angry,” he declared, anger pouring out of every word before he deflated.

“Sixty seconds,” Morgan breathed out, shaking his head in self-recrimination. “If I had gotten there sixty seconds earlier, Emily might still be with us.”

“Derek, you know that you did everything you could—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I did everything I could. We all did. I know,” he snapped. “What, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“You protected each other for years, don’t expect this to go away anytime soon,” Hotch told him.

“This what? This—this guilt?”

“Just because you were the last one there doesn’t mean that you could affect the outcome,” Hotch said. “We all wish we had that kind of control.”

“So what do we do, we just chalk it up to fate?” Morgan looked at Hotch incredulously. “What, I can’t blame anybody? What, this is the will of God? No. I do blame somebody, I blame Doyle.”

At a loss, Hotch remained silent, hiding the guilt that threatened to swallow him in the face of Morgan’s grief.

“Hotch, what am I supposed to do?” Morgan finally asked, voice breaking. “I lost my friend right in front of me, and I’m supposed to go on like nothing happened?” He shook his head, taking in a shuddering breath. “You know, we—we come in here, and we talk to you,” he turned to Hotch and asked, “Where do you go?”

Hotch glanced down as Morgan continued, “Where are you with all this?”

“Same place as you,” the unit chief looked back up, a mutual understanding passing between them. “Wishing she was here.”

~~~

“There are benefits to meeting after hours,” Rossi commented, raising his glass of scotch and taking a drink.

Hotch looked down at his own glass. “You know everybody’s feeling it, and nobody wants to talk about it.”

“It’s too soon, Aaron. You know that better than anyone,” the older profiler sent him a look. “And, uh, doesn’t Strauss usually run these assessments?”

“There was no way that was going to happen,” Hotch said firmly to Rossi’s brief chuckle.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said, as Hotch took a long drink out of his own glass. “And I also know that you grieve privately. But,” Rossi paused, looking at him solemnly, “you’ve been through more than any of us in a very short time. How are you holding up?”

“I’m all right,” Hotch repeated three words that had become a mantra, briefly glancing at Rossi. “I think it’s an ongoing process,” he said, thinking about the mess he was buried under after the events of the past year.

“This is not my assessment,” he looked at Rossi in reproach, “I’m supposed to be asking how you’re doing.”

A corner of Rossi’s lips briefly tilted up before he looked back down as he thought about what to say. “I’ve always had trouble letting people in,” he began slowly and shook his head. “But this is different. I guess I’ve come to realize… I’m more married to this team than I ever was to three ex-wives.” They shared a brief moment of amusement as his quip.

“It’s been a hard year,” Hotch finally said quietly. “We’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, we will,” Rossi agreed, lifting his glass in a toast. “Emily and Haley.”

Hotch raised his own, the two lapsing into heavy silence.

~~~

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorrysorrysorry—

He threw the blanket off himself and got up from where he was laying on the couch to walk over to his desk, glancing out into the dark bullpen as he went. He sat down and started going through the stack of unfinished reports in an attempt to ward off the thoughts that have plagued him since that painful day two months ago.

I’ve failed you, Blackbird.

I hope you’re safe out there.

~~~

“Believe me, everyone who tried to save him that day isn’t going to forget. It’s the day they failed. They’ll ask themselves what they could have done—could they have gotten there sooner? They’ll heal, but it’s going to take time. They’ll move on, but they won’t forget.”

~~~

“Over the next few weeks, each of you is going to be asked if you’d like to stay with the unit,” Hotch informed them.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Reid asked, confused.

“There are other options for you out there,” Hotch answered. “And while I want the unit to stay together, I understand completely if you want to see what the alternatives are. Morgan, there’s renewed interest in you from the New York office.”

Morgan looked surprised. “Nobody’s called me.”

“They will.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to go,” he said slowly.

“Oh, I know,” Hotch said evenly.

“Are you staying here?” Seaver asked Hotch.

“It’s my intention to,” but we’ll have to see what happens with Doyle. He felt Rossi’s eyes land on him, knowing that the man would have caught his careful word choice.

Either way, there’s a high chance I’m going to be overseas soon.

~~~

“Has he ever left before us?”

“He technically isn’t leaving—he’s still in danger and doesn’t have the luxury of going into hiding, so he’s been rotating through the Academy dorms.”

“Jack?”

“He’s been staying with the Brooks family. Hotch implemented as many security measures as he could and has been visiting as often as he can.”

~~~

“Hotchner.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Morgan’s voice came over the phone. “How’s it going out there?”

“Got to Pakistan a few days ago, so far long days, some territorial issues to work out, nothing surprising,” Hotch answered, straining to hear Morgan over the helicopters whirring overhead. “How’s everything there?”

“Hotch, we found Declan Doyle.”

“What?”

“Listen, I knew finding the kid was the only way I could find Doyle,” Hotch was silent, mind immediately straying to the potential ramifications. “I know what you’re thinking, man.”

“Is Declan safe?” he finally settled on asking.

“Yeah, he is for now. I’ve had surveillance at his house and his school for a few weeks.”

“Morgan, I didn’t authorize this—”

“I know you didn’t, Hotch, but listen to me. I think Doyle may have found Declan, too.”

Hotch shook his head. “All right, I’m coming back.”

“You want me to wait?” Morgan asked incredulously.

“Morgan, fixated on his son as he may be, Doyle is still incredibly smart and meticulous,” Hotch reminded. “You make sure you have eyes on Doyle from all angles. If you take him alive, keep him under constant surveillance and limit his contact with other people, even if they’re our own.”

~~~

“Prissy, Doyle’s in custody and under constant watch. You can come out of whatever hole you’ve crawled into.”

“Dare I ask how you got to him?”

“I’m still in Pakistan, I didn’t do anything. The team took care of it.”

~~~

<<Time to come back, Blackbird.

>>You got V?

<<Looking for his K.

>>I just got a call from K’s caretaker. What happened?

>>Iceman.

<<K disappeared

~~~

“Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you,” Hotch turned around to see the brightly-dressed analyst hurrying towards him with a folder under her arm. “What have you got?”

“A top-ten list of Doyle’s enemies.”

“Anybody recently in the States?” he looked through, recognizing the names.

“Richard Gerace’s been here a few weeks,” she answered. “He’s a low-level gun-runner who angrily crossed paths with Doyle. I caught an image of him on the surveillance camera at Declan’s house and confirmed it was him through a scar on his neck. Have you come across him before?” Garcia asked, referring to his time with JTF.

“I don’t think so,” Hotch shook his head. “Get me everything you can on Gerace.”

“Yeah,” Garcia hesitated, “what I just told you is everything I’ve got.” Hotch nodded and briskly walked around her out of the conference room.

He made his way to where they were holding Doyle and walked up to the window next to Rossi.

“Well, that’s a good look,” Rossi commented on his beard. Hotch allowed a brief smile to appear on his face while he texted Morgan, who was inside with Doyle. “How was the desert?”

“Hot,” Hotch replied shortly, still able to feel sand in his combat boots and the sun beating down on his back.

“Doyle’s here, so have you seen Jack yet?”

“No, Jessica took him on a road trip, they’re at Hershey Park right now,” Hotch said, still occupied with his messaging.

“Well, he’ll love that beard,” Rossi looked over at him.

“Yeah, we skyped every day,” Hotch said dryly, looking back at the older man. “He’s not a fan.”

~~~

>>C just called to check in. On the way right now.

<<See you in a bit

>>If I survive the others

<<Blackbird, I made this decision, I am responsible for this. It’s my burden to bear, but I’d do it all over again if it means having you alive.

<<Oh, and J came back fourteen weeks ago. As a profiler, now.

>>What? And you’re just telling me this now?

<<Didn’t find out until I got somewhere with secure service, and that was a week ago.

<<We’ve really missed you.

~~~

“Welcome back,” Morgan greeted Hotch.

“Thanks,” Hotch said, steeling himself. “Everybody, have a seat.”

The profilers looked at him strangely. “Why?” Morgan asked. “What’s going on? Everything all right?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch crossed his arms. “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle, but the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

He continued on, watching as different emotions appeared on the teams’ faces as they realized what he was saying. “I called Clyde and we met with the brass while she was being flown over, and it was decided that her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. Given the danger Doyle posed, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, hopeful shock clear in her voice. Hotch’s silence spoke volumes.

“But we buried her,” Reid said, uncomprehending.

Hotch looked directly at Morgan. “As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision, and if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan repeated in angry incredulity. “Yeah, I got issues,” he trailed off when he noticed the others looking behind him.

“Oh my god,” Garcia breathed, tears rolling down her face at the sight of Emily Prentiss in the doorway. She stood up and rushed over, enveloping the woman in a careful hug, as if she were going to disappear.

“I am so sorry,” Emily said, as the analyst let go of her so Reid could take her place. “I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to…” she trailed off, catching sight of Morgan’s expression. “Really, I—” she approached him, hoping he’ll understand, “you didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry.”

She leaned in, hugging him tightly as Morgan slowly returned the hug through his shock. They stayed like that for a few moments before she backed away and turned to the others. “There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will, I promise, but right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan,” she said, walking to stand next to Hotch and JJ.

“Emily, was there a man living at the house?” Reid pushed forward to ask.

“Yes, my friend Tom Koehler, he was raising Declan as his own.”

“Where is he?” JJ asked from the side.

“I never saw him go in or out of that house,” Garcia told her.

“He was on assignment overseas,” Emily said.

“But he’s all right?” JJ checked.

“Yes,” Emily confirmed, “He’s on his way back now. He got a call from Declan, he called me, and Hotch texted me just moments later telling me you had Doyle in custody.”

“And because of Tom’s line of work, that’s why you enrolled Declan in a boarding school,” Hotch said.

“I made sure that he, Louise, and I were the only ones allowed to take him off campus.”

“Louise took him home last night because he was sick,” Reid told her.

“Food poisoning,” Hotch interjected.

“Yeah, a few of the kids had it, apparently, so whoever did this got to him on campus. They knew they only had one chance.”

“Current suspect is Richard Gerace,” JJ said, “he’s the most recent arrival into the states. We’ve been tracking his progress through the city, but we came up empty.”

“We know it’s him because he has the scar,” Garcia added.

“That doesn’t make sense, Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago,” Emily stated.

Rossi spoke up, “He said you were the only one who knew Gerace.”

“Which is why I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have the balls to pull this off,” she said. “There was no forced entry at the house?”

“I had two agents working security,” Morgan said.

“We think Gerace and his partner pose as the next shift, and one of the agents was a woman,” Reid told her.

Emily’s response came quick. “She’s the alpha.”

“So we’re looking for a woman who’s getting back at Doyle,” JJ summarized.

“Well, our suspect list just got a whole lot longer,” Hotch remarked, exchanging a sardonic look with Emily, who nodded in agreement.

~~~

“Is Strauss still there?” Hotch asked over the phone, striding outside towards the parked SUVs.

“She is.”

“We need full support.”

“Doyle said McDermott’s family imported weapons to a private airfield in Maryland,” Emily said.

“Close?”

“Largo.”

“All right, send me the coordinates. Oh, and Emily?” Hotch added.

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to have you back, Blackbird.”

~~~

“Hotch, are we really going to do this?” Morgan’s voice came over his earpiece.

“No one leaves here,” Hotch said firmly into his mic, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings.

~~~

“Iceman.”

“Blackbird,” Hotch returned as Emily approached him at the side of the conference room, having escaped the others’ excitement at her return. He looked her up and down, taking in the welcome sight before pulling her into a tight hug. The others fell silent, watching them clutch to each other like a lifeline in an embrace that spoke of a deep familiarity.

“You did all that you could,” she told him quietly, as their grip on each other loosened slightly, “thank you.”

A few traitorous tears slipped out of his eyes, which he had squeezed shut. Hotch kept his head at the crook of her neck, taking in the familiar warmth that reassured him of her presence.

“It’s so good to see you.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #bau #fanfic #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #hurt #sodone glass is fragile

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theroseandcrown · 4 years ago

Text

The Rose & Crown: Chapter Five

Rating: M Chapters: 5/24

Summary: Clara and the Doctor find themselves on the trail of the mystery surrounding their memory loss. What will they find when they follow the clues?

Read this story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad

Clara had always been impressed by the selection of clothing available to her in the ship’s wardrobe. The items she found in there consisted of such created by the TARDIS herself or those that had been left behind by the Doctor’s previous companions. Either way, they excelled in their knowledge of well-fashioned taste when it came to providing her with disguises to accompany him on his travels. Whether it be the year nineteen hundred or forty thousand, the old gal certainly knew how to treat a girl. Although, this time she may have outdone herself a bit. Having searched for quite some time through the ever-changing, ever relocating closet, her heart jumped when she saw the dress. Champagne in colour, the floor-length fabric was entirely embroidered with tiny sparkling silver patterned jewels from the modestly draped straps over her shoulders to the tips of her clear heeled shoes. Gazing at her finished form in the mirror, the dress seemed to embrace her with an ethereal glow. A part of her shook the thought that a particular dress of this nature might be too fashionable for a girl such as her. She exited the wardrobe and headed for the control room where the Doctor told her to meet him. Hesitating for only a moment to regain her confidence, she lifted her skirt above her shoes and climbed the metal staircase towards the heart of the TARDIS.

“Finally!” the Doctor exclaimed after hearing her soft footsteps approaching from behind. “You’ve been down there nearly an hour!” He spun around to face her. “What on Earth took you so-?” And then he saw her, truly saw her. Her presence in the room suddenly cleared him of all thought and speech. He had travelled with her an uncountable amount of times. From the past to the future and beyond even that. And yet, she always remained the same Clara to him no matter what version of her he was with. Always his impossible girl. There was no one else he would rather have by his side. He cared for her more deeply than he would ever dare to admit. All the dangers he put her through, all the incidences in which he thought he’d lost her had been more unbearable each time. He fought to keep the feelings he had for her from himself and anyone they ever encountered together from the moment he first laid eyes upon her in his previous form. He felt that somewhere buried deep inside his stubbornness, she would never accept him in this body as she did with his last. This furrowed old man he had become could never compete with the love she still carried in her heart for his younger self. It was better this way. Emotions are dangerous. There were far too many enemies in the universe willing to take advantage of a weakness so great.

Something inside of him was freed from its forgotten place as she approached him, a feeling he thought he would never have for anyone else. He couldn’t tear himself away from her magnificent grace. She could light up every star in the sky or power an entire world with just the look in her eyes at that moment. He could feel the electricity emanating through the air in the palms of his hands. The deafening silence in the room could only be tamed by the delicate sound of her shoes tapping along the metal flooring. He watched her approach until she was but an arm’s length in front of him. “You look, uh…” were the only words he could manage.

“Is it too much?”

“No, um-”

“It’s too much, isn’t it,” she responded nervously, beginning to feel foolish.

“No, no! Well, I mean, it’s not bad. For a girl who can’t even tie a tie correctly. But I suppose the dress will have to do,” he humoured her in an attempt to maintain a hold over his emotions.

“Thanks.” She knew that was the closest to a compliment as she was going to get. She noticed he’d taken the time to groom himself in her absence. A characteristic he hadn’t seemed to have adopted very often in this body, if at all. And yet, something about the way he looked in his tuxedo warmed her from within as if she were standing beside an open flame during the dead of winter. All the anger she felt earlier in the day and the past several weeks had melted away leaving no trace of its former existence. The warm feeling inside of her began to grow more intense as she stepped closer, their shoes nearly touching. “I could say the same about you,” she pointed out, slowly reaching up to straighten his tie.

He watched her every move. His hearts raced at the sensation of her fingers grazing along the outside of his collared shirt. He gazed down at the top of her head as she perfected his slightly skewed necktie. The closer she was to him, the more he could feel the electricity making its way throughout his body. There was something different about her, something he hadn’t noticed before. Not strange, per se, a rather enjoyable feeling actually. A warmth about her. He felt the tiny hairs on his arms rise underneath the sleeves of his jacket. A very faint, almost entirely unnoticeable connection to his telepathic abilities could be detected. Is she somehow reading my mind?

“Well!” He nervously pulled away from her grasp and quickly moved to the console. He feared he may have endured her closeness for too long. If she had been reading his mind, there was no doubt he might have let some thoughts slip by he shouldn’t have. Trying to distract himself, he made a few adjustments to the computer. “Shall we?” he asked, extending a hand towards her. He could sense her reluctance, possibly having to do with the day’s previous conflict between them. The look of uncertainty in her eyes. He knew he had tampered with her trust in him. There was only one way to make it right. “Clara Oswald, I would be deeply honoured if you would accompany me as... my date,” he requested, offering a bent arm for her to accept if it pleased her. Clara smiled. The same smile that drove him into the deepest parts of his sanity. Accepting his offer, she interlocked her arm in his and prepared to be transported to the next adventure. Matching her smile with his own, he pulled down on the lever and sent the time machine to its instructed coordinates.

Prima Nova

The TARDIS materialized into the medium-sized vacant room. The door opened and the Doctor poked his head out from within to examine their new surroundings. Once it was decidedly safe, he exited the box as Clara followed closely behind.

“Well, this is exciting!” She took hold of his arm with her own. The anticipation of what was out there sent a sense of thrill throughout her body. Each time they encountered the unknown together, there was always a feeling of excitement mixed with a small amount of fear of what they might come across. But this time felt different. Being with him made her truly feel like a part of his life again. “It’s as if we’re solving our own mystery! Just the lot of us. Like Sherlock Holmes!”

“Yes, well, if only Sir Conan Doyle had known the true identity of whom he really based his main character on, I’d bet he would’ve looked a little more green, and had scales, and was actually a woman,” he replied, remembering his past adventures with Vastra, Jenny, and Strax. Back when he felt the universe didn’t need him to be the Doctor anymore. Back when he had given up all hope. “Besides, their mysteries were nothing but child’s play in comparison to what I’ve seen in my lifetime. Imagine the pair of them encountering an army of Cybermen back in their day. What a great story that would have been to tell the kiddies.”

They approached the extraordinarily large double doors to the room in which they were standing. They were over a storey in height and several arm lengths wide. A questioning look appeared on his face as he took out his sonic-screwdriver and attempted to scan the door. Other than being made of wood, in which the screwdriver lacked in its abilities, there was nothing he would usually be concerned about. Except that these doors appeared brand new as if they had just been installed, unlike the other walls in the room or the ancient relics hosted inside of it.

“Doctor? What is it?” Her grip on him tightened with concern.

“This door. It’s unusually large for a room this size, don’t you think?”

“Maybe they’re just really tall people?” She couldn’t help the smile that formed.

Frowning at her humour, he placed his ear to the wood and listened for any sounds. Glancing towards her, he opened the door. The light from the other side brightly filled the space all around them. In the next room, they could see hundreds of well-dressed normal-sized people chatting and mingling amongst each other while oblivious to their entrance. Shutting the door behind them, he led her into the crowd to blend in as if they had been there all along. “Now remember,” he warned, continuing to lead her through the mixed mass of aliens. “We’re here to find out what happened to us, not to dilly-dally. No distractions. Look for anything you might remember.”

Clara frowned. All these people enjoying themselves and she was stuck with the Time Lord, Slayer of Fun. Doing as he asked, her eyes scanned the room for anything that would jog her memory. She didn’t recognize any of the other guests nor the room they were in. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides being surrounded by aliens of course. However, she supposed that to them it was she who was the alien. She noticed a strange object hanging from the ceiling high above the guests’ heads. An orb-like structure encased in shaded glass. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing upwards.

“Brain scanner,” he responded, having already noticed it the second they entered the lobby. “It detects ill-intent.”

“What would they need a brain scanner for at a party?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

She could feel him pulling her towards the next room where they were greeted by a well-dressed man of a species she was not familiar with. He stood eagerly behind a host’s station. A badge clung just below his lapel were inscribed with the words Xarbanka, Maître D’.

“Ah! Mr and Mrs Smith!” he addressed them, extending a scaled hand towards the Doctor. “So good to see you again! Mrs Smith, you look absolutely stunning this evening!” He returned his attention to the Doctor. “Better keep a good eye on her tonight, sir!” he boasted with a friendly smile.

“Will do,” he replied, trying to keep the thought of having no memory of this man at rest.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” the man added, retrieving a lightweight box from inside the station. “This arrived earlier today with strict instructions to deliver to you personally upon your arrival.”

“For me?” The Doctor raised a questioning brow. “Who sent it?”

“They didn’t say. It was accompanied by this.” The man pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to him.

Taking the note, he opened it to observe its message. For Mr Smith, from a friend. Glancing towards the Maître D’, he placed the note inside his pocket and released the clip holding the small box shut before hesitantly opening the lid. Inside were two identical pairs of what appeared to be ordinary reading glasses. Upon examination, he found nothing peculiar about them. Removing them from their case, he promptly placed them into his jacket pocket and nodded his gratitude towards the man. Turning to Clara, he noticed she was experiencing the same confusion as he. “Well, shall we head for the refreshments, dear?” A smile formed on his face as he played along with his new role. They parted ways with the man and headed towards the entrance of the next room where the sound of live music was heard playing.

“That was a bit strange,” she whispered. “Were you expecting a package here?”

“No, which means whoever sent it must have known we were going to be here at this exact moment.”

“So, Mr Smith, eh?” She tried to hold back her laughter. “They get a lot of caretakers to come to these things, do they?”

“And, apparently, their wives,” he teased.

“Hmm, Mrs Clara Smith. Doesn’t sound all that bad. Better than Mrs The Doctor. Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” She let out a small laugh.

“My, aren’t we chipper this evening,” he noted, addressing her sudden adjustment in mood from earlier. The more they immersed themselves into their surroundings, the brighter she had become. He could feel the happiness resounding inside of her now seeping into him. “To what do I owe this new change? Surely you haven’t forgiven me for everything already,” he prodded, yet remained hopeful the answer would be, ‘Yes.’

“I dunno.” Clara thought about it. It was as if she didn’t even remember being so cross with him. As if it happened ages ago. Whatever feelings she felt before had been replaced by something else, something warmer. Something she wasn’t so sure she had control of. Whatever it was, she liked it. She liked the way she felt around him now more than ever. The thoughts and feelings she still clung to of his last form were slowly being replaced by his new one. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here now,” she added. As they entered the next room, her grip on him tightened. “Doctor!” she nearly gasped his name. “I’ve been here before. I remember this room from my dream.” She looked around the structure to observe the walls and flooring. It was the same as the nightmare she experienced right before the spectre attacked her. It sent shivers down her spine seeing this place again. Her eyes searched the room for the ghosts she had seen before only to find it was vacant of them. Even the people were different from those in her vision.

“Do you recognize anyone?” he asked, taking in all the details they might have been missing.

“No, you?”

“Nothing.” He strained to discover a clue, anything that might jog his memory of having been there before. He noticed a second scanner atop the ceiling and assumed there was one in each room.

As Clara examined the unfamiliar faces, she couldn’t help but wonder it if was possible they had been wrong. That there wasn’t anything there to find. Had they come all this way for nothing? She continued to observe the guests paired with their partners and dancing to the rhythm of the music. So carefree, so unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Just simply dancing and enjoying the company of one another. Feeling safer, for the moment, she turned to him. “Would you care to dance?”

“Good thinking! Blend in, gather details. Surely one of these people holds the key to our memory!”

Shaking her head, she smiled and determined that he would always be the same old Doctor to her no matter how hard she tried to tame him. A part of her loved that about him and wouldn’t change it for anything.

He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Facing her, he realized how long it had been since he had done this even if it were to simply gather data. Trying to recall exactly where he was supposed to put his hands and who was supposed to lead, he decided to go with his instincts instead. Under any other circumstances, he would have felt the flutter of his hearts beating. But this time, something about her was different. She placed the palm of her hand in his, the other wrapped around his back to which he mirrored. As he held her hand, he felt an overwhelming sense of emotion as he detected the vast amount of electricity emanating from her soft delicate fingers entwined in his own. He tried to hide his concern and concentrate on his objective, finding those responsible for all of this. Yet he couldn’t keep his mind focused on anything else. What was different about her? What was he missing? Stay focused, Doctor. Don’t lose yourself in her eyes. You are here for a reason. His mind teetered between studying the room and her gaze. He could feel her pulse in the palm of his hand, though it was strangely foreign. Far too fast to be her own. It’s nothing, she’s just excited. You mustn’t get distracted.

He could feel his muscles tense as her body drew close to his. Her head rested on his shoulder. The hand he claimed around her back found its way to her waist while the other held onto hers firmly. The same warmth he felt before in the TARDIS began to rise within him. The electricity from her hand deepened as if it were connecting to every fibre in his body. What is she doing to me, he wondered? Trying his hardest to stay on task, he began to distract his senses with observation. He counted the tiles on the floor, the number of beverages being passed around, anything even remotely relevant to their reason for being there. He noticed a few of the guests had their attention turned towards them. Did he know them? Did they know him? Could they be involved or was he just feeling paranoid? Before he lost himself in her arms, he attempted to de-escalate the intensity of their embrace. “I feel we are being watched,” he finally spoke, breaking the silence of the moment.

“By who?” she asked, slowly lifting her head off his shoulder.

“Usurians, behind you.”

“What’s a Usurian?” She started to look in their direction.

“Don’t turn around!” he ordered quietly, closely monitoring the other guests as he waited for just the right moment. Seizing the opportunity, he spun her around to the rhythm of the music. His dominant hand retained its grasp on hers as her back became flushed up against him. His other hand slid across her front and held her midsection firmly, pulling her even closer. He ignored the small gasp that escaped her lips. “There, just in front of you,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you recognize them?”

Clara, trying to swallow the surprise that overtook her from his sudden intimacy, glanced in the direction of which he was speaking. “No, I don’t think so.” She hardly even looked at the suspected guests, being too distracted by his closeness. Her free hand found its way to his and placed it gently atop his own. She could feel herself breathing more heavily as he applied pressure to her abdomen.

The Doctor, not ready to eliminate the Usurians as possible suspects, scanned the room again looking for more clues. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, a powerful surge swept through him originating from the hand resting securely upon Clara’s body. A telepathic connection he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was so unbelievably strong, it pulled him out of his reality entirely.

He opened his eyes to find himself in an undetermined space, relocated from where he last stood as if he had been teleported. Darkness had formed all around him. Am I dreaming? Far off in the distance, he saw a small light. Approaching slowly, he shielded his eyes from the intense glow emanating from it. As he drew closer, more finite details of its existence began to occupy the void surrounding him. Light particles circulated from its main source. The closer he stepped, the more he could hear it trying to speak to him. He heard the sound of its heart beating faintly, then louder until it beat like a drum deep in his soul. Yet there was something different about it. Something only he would be able to feel. There were two. Two distinct heartbeats originating from the same source. No, it can’t be! How is this possible?! He found himself being drawn to its life force, unable to stop himself from stepping closer until he could nearly reach it. The light burned his eyes yet he could not look away. His hand reached out, ready to succumb to its will, until his fingers made their first contact with it. Then there was a flash of light.

The Doctor opened his eyes once again, gasping and breathing heavily. He searched his surroundings thoroughly. He was back in the ballroom. His hand was still clenched around Clara’s as the other pressed her tightly against him from behind. Panic came over him. He quickly released himself from her and stepped away as the music came to an end. He saw her turn to face him, her eyes conveyed worry and concern for her friend. He couldn’t shake the vision in his head of what he saw, for what he feared was happening inside of her. He tried to even conceive of the possibility. His mind raced, his hearts beat rapidly in his chest. No, this isn’t possible! Yet everything he knew and felt was pointing to only one answer, that his Clara was with child.

“Doctor?” She stepped closer only to watch him step even farther away. His eyes were wide with fright. “Doctor, what is it? What’s wrong?”

His mind burst and flooded with a thousand thoughts as if it were a shattering dam. So many questions, so little answers. It all started to make sense and didn’t at the same time. The electricity and warmth he felt just being around her, a warmth he thought to be the deep feelings he carried for her, was, in reality, the tangible emotions of the life form growing inside of her. Emotions they now shared. If Clara was upset, the child would imitate her distress. When she became elated, so would the child. And if she were to experience pain or suffering...

“I-I’m not sure.” He kept his distance. The words he wanted to say were lost under miles of thought. She came closer, the look of fear on her face as she did when they were in real danger. He couldn’t move, not because of the couples dancing all around him and trapping him where he was, but because his legs would not allow him to. As she stood in front of him, her hand reached for his. “Don’t,” he stopped her firmly. He couldn’t bear their touch again. Not now. Not when his mind needed to repair itself of its malfunction. They stood in unbearable silence, the music having long since ended as the musicians adjusted their pages for the next set. “I think I’ve had quite enough dancing for one evening,” he told her, trying to keep the worry off his face.

Clara was confused and mildly hurt. Had she done something wrong? Why was he so flustered, she wondered? The music started to sound again yet neither one of them yielded their positions on the floor. She hardly even noticed the young man approaching her side.

“Excuse me, Miss?” the man addressed her.

She turned to him, nearly forgetting the Doctor’s strange behaviour. She was taken aback by his youthful features. Not young enough to be a boy but certainly not too old either. He appeared human, but so did many others who either were or simply used a type of cloaking device to possibly hide their true race from potential enemies.

“I was just wondering,” he continued shyly, “if you would do me the honour of sharing this dance with me. If it pleases you.” He looked towards the Doctor. “Of course, that is if you do not mind, sir?”

“Well, actually,” he started, trying not to show his infuriated demeanour over the sudden interruption between them. “We were just about to-”

“I’d love to.” She took the arm of the young man.

“Clara, we really should be going,” he insisted, attempting to lure her back to him.

“I’ll only be a minute! I’m sure you can ‘handle things in my stead,’” she replied, turning his own words against him.

Impossible woman! The Doctor attempted to remain unaltered by her unexpected leave of him. He removed himself from the crowd and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in disapproval as he watched them from a distance. He could see the young man take her into his arms and pull her close to his chest. She appeared to be somewhat taken with him, laughing and smiling in his direction. He could feel himself becoming jealous but tried to ignore it. Of course she would feel an attraction, just look at him! He’s everything I’m not; young and handsome. While compared to him, I’m nothing but a frustrated emotionless old man.

He attempted to distract himself by continuing to observe the room around them. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe they were too late. Or just maybe there was nothing there for them to find. But why the brain scanners? What could be so crucial there to require them? And even more importantly, who sent him the glasses? Who had known he was going to be there on this exact night? His eyes drew back to his companion. The young man’s hand had found its way to her waist, her head rested just slight of his lapel. “Will this song never end?!” he mumbled to himself.

As he continued to watch them, he couldn’t help but think of the child developing inside of her. Was she aware of its presence? Could she feel it within her or was it simply too early to detect? The dreaded thought of how it came to be was secondary to his greatest concern, that the child was of Gallifreyan decent. The list of possible fathers was too short to deny being responsible for any part of it. But how had this happened? There must be some sort of an explanation, he thought. The song finally ended and the young pair made their way towards the refreshments.

“May I offer you something? Some champagne perhaps?” asked the young man.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She watched him head towards the bar to attract the attention of the bartender.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she heard the voice of the Doctor say behind her. Rolling her eyes, she turned around to face him. “My my, what a lovely couple you two are!” he added.

“Doctor,” she replied, now slightly annoyed with him.

“How old is he? Twelve? Thirteen? Ages, not my area.”

Ignoring his jealous comments, she decided to change the subject. “Did you find anything?”

“Oh, I thought we were here to dance and party!” Behind her, he saw the young man returning with two filled glasses in his hands. “And drink!”

“Champagne, for the lady,” the young man offered, handing her a glass.

“Thank you.” Accepting the glass from him, she raised it to toast the gentlemen.

“That other one must be for me then?” the Doctor asked the boy, his temper getting the better of him.

“Doctor!” she hushed him, lightly smacking his arm. “Behave.”

He watched her bring the glass to her lips. A sudden unexplainable protectiveness came over him as he removed the drink from her hand before she could take a sip. “No, I don’t think so. We wouldn’t want you to get all sloshy.” He handed the drink back to the young man. “Don’t let her appearance fool you. She’s a terrible drunk. Absolutely the worst! Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the confused man.

“That was incredibly rude,” she scolded.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll forget all about you. Plenty of other sultry girls here to choose from.” He felt her rip her arm away from his grasp. Surprised, he turned around to see her face. He could only describe the look of shock and hurt in her eyes.

“Is that what you think of me then?” she asked as tears started to form at the brim of her eyes.

“No, of course not.” He realized he had let his jealousy take control of him. “Clara, I need to speak with you,” he implored, extending a hand towards her apologetically. After a moment, she wiped the tears from her eyes and took his hand. He took her to a less crowded area of the room and made sure there was no one listening in. He looked into her eyes, still damp from tears. He didn’t even know what to say or how to begin. He brushed the loosened hairs from her face and wiped the remaining tear still clinging to her cheek. “Clara, I-” he stopped himself and ran his fingers through his hair. Why is this so difficult? Just tell her! He sighed heavily and regained his thoughts. “Clara, I need to tell you something.” She did not reply, only gazed into his eyes awaiting his next words which only made it harder for him to speak. At last, he found the courage to tell her the truth. “This may be difficult for you to understand right now, but you… you’re-”

“Welcome guests to the Prima Nova Biannual Charity Auction Ball!” a woman suddenly shouted from the top of the stairs. The guests cheered and clapped at her entrance.

The Doctor was frozen in thought by the interruption. He knew that voice. It sent a cold chill of unavoidable fear down his spine. There was only one person he knew of who had power over him such as that. He glanced towards the sound of her voice hoping he was very wrong about the thoughts invading his mind.

“I’ll be your host this evening,” she continued, descending the stairs. “But you may call me... the Mistress.”

#12th doctor #doctor who #twelfth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #the doctor #twelve/clara #clara oswald #dr who #dr who fan fiction #dr who fanfiction #whouffaldi

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cookiedoughmeagain · 4 years ago

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Haven DVD commentaries: 5.15 - Power

5.15 Commentary with Adam Higgs and Speed Weed (writers for this episode and the next episode)

SW: By the time anyone’s listening to this, we’ll both be writing on different shows. But we can’t tell you which ones yet. Not the same show as each other sadly. AH: Yeah that was a shame. But we will one day in the future, I have a good feeling about that. However for Haven stuff, I think the thing here was, we were trying to reboot the show in a way. SW: That’s right. AH: 514 is the start of the season, or of season 5 part B, but these two episodes [515 and 516] really encompass the new world order. SE: That’s right, they define the world after the shroud is down. Did we call it the shroud in the show? AH: The shroud, yeah. That’s actually a good point because we spent a lot of time talking about what the shroud was going to be called. I can’t remember the other names we thought about, but we went back and forth for a long time. SW: And we talked about what we called it - because often there’s a handle that you use in the room for what you’re talking about, and then you have to remember, did you actually put the same term in an actor’s mouth so that the world inside the show knows what it’s called? AH: My favourite is when you don’t realise that. On another show I did that, it was in the edit that I was like; Oh have we ever mentioned that that’s what that’s called? And going through scripts we realised that no; no we did not - OK, let’s ADR some stuff in.

AH: So this was fun. We’re both fans of The Walking Dead, and we got to do a Haven kind of version of The Walking Dead, or of them just trying to survive. It’s not the Trouble of the Week things so much, it’s … SW: It’s Haven’s version of a post-apocalyptic world, it’s true. These episodes were directed by Rick Bota who also direct 9 and 10 that Adam and I also wrote, so it was good to work with him again.

[Dwight and Nathan talk outside the school] AH: So here we get to see that time has passed since we last saw everyone in 514 and we spent a lot of time making sure that everyone had their own intro so we could showcase how things have changed. And a lot of this episode is about putting strain on these episodes and just seeing how everyone reacts to this post-apocalyptic kind of situation they’re in

SW: There’s Tony, he becomes a bigger character in the next episode. AH: Yeah we spent a lot of time seeding a lot of things. And we shot these episodes in between our set move. So, for other other seasons we shot up until October, or earlier than that even? And everything was shot on our sound stages in Chester. And then this year, half way through the season everything got moved up to Halifax, because of hockey. SW: That’s right. We shot on a hockey rink in Chester. Really anything that has a lot of space and a tall ceiling can be a sound stage for a television show - if it’s quiet outside, if there’s no noise from the street coming in. *pause for the break*

[Duke driving to work in Halifax] AH: This is actually Halifax, this bridge here. SW: That’s right, and I think this is actually one of the first scenes we shot in Halifax. Oh no, we shot that later. AH: Yeah this was shot quite a bit after. And here we’ve got our wonderful mechanic here played by William MacDonald. I worked with William on an episode of Republic of Doyle, so I was happy when I saw him in the auditions for this, and he did a great job. He just has that look, that imposing feel.

SW: So anyway, the people in Chester wanted their hockey rink back, so when we got a 26 epsiode order (seasons 5A and 5B) we had to move sets at this point as we were shooting. And the reason these episodes take place almost entirely in the school (this storyline [Duke in Halifax] excepted) is because all of our standing sets were being taken down in one place and being put up in another. So you’ll see in later episodes those sets coming back AH: We slowly start to see the sets getting put back up. But these scenes with Duke in Halifax were shot after - well after - because we had to shoot everything in the school for this whole block.

[As Duke is leaving his voicemail to Monty talking about the kind of job he’s looking for] SW: What do you do when you’re responsible for having given Troubles to thousands of people? AH: Go to disneyland. But no, that is exactly what we were trying to figure out here - what happens to Duke? After the explosion how does everyone pick up the pieces and move on?

AH: And another goal for these episodes was trying to get the characters to an interesting place, or a place we can build off of. And the relationship between Audrey and Charlotte was an important one to build (over this and the next couple of episodes) to see if we could get them to a place where they can trust each other. Because it’s like Speed said, what do you do after you gave everyone Troubles? What do you do when you find out that this woman that you’ve been missing your whole life [your mother] has been an obstacle for you for the last couple episodes? How do you respond to that? And we do try really hard on this show to create some level of reality, maybe not in terms of the supernatural, but at least in the emotions characters have.

SW: The other thing that was a challeng early in the design of these episodes, and it was really cool talking through with Adam in the room, was how we got a super deadly - oh I should pause, people are psyched about this kiss [Nathan’s and Audrey’s ‘I like the view’ moment], enjoy the kiss. AH: This hasn’t aired yet, I just realised. And I’ve been waiting to see the Twitter response to these kisses, because we ramp up that lovefest, in these two episodses especially. And there’s some really powerful scenes in 516. SW: It’s true. Or I should say, I believe you. I’ve actually forgotten what happens in 516. You know we do have a portion of fans who are not on Team Naudrey. We have a portion of fans who are rapid Duke/Audrey lovers.

SW: So, we really worked hard to design a Trouble that was super-deadly, and really scary, and didn’t require any production budget. So we talked a long time about the darkness, like - when you were in the dark a monster would come and eat you, but then we thought you’d have to produce something for that. So it became just the darkness itself. AH: And we even talked later about whether there would be a sound cue or not a sound cue. SW: Sound is cheap. AH: Yes, but this was a good one. We went back and forth on what to make this look like. And you’ll see some of that production-friendly magic throughout these two episodes. But the darkness I think worked well in just keeping everyone scared. Because it’s kind of human nature to be afraid of the dark.

[Dwight giving his banishment speech to the assembled crowd in the school hall] AH: We got to give Adam Copeland some cool stuff to do, and just showing where Dwight would go if you pushed him to the edge. And I’ll admit, we went further with Dwight in the early drafts. Dwight was Ned Stark in the early drafts, and he was a little bit more complicit in some executions. But we looked at the character and had to pull back a bit on that, I was a little zealous there, I think it was good to pull back. SW: Well you had The Walking Dead in mind, you know. But the truth is ultimately, we’re not that show. We are more heartfelt and lighter, and we protect our characters.

[Nathan discussing his trip down Trouble Alley, and Audrey pointing out cell phones don’t work.] AH: Cell phones. SW: We talked a lot about cell phones. AH: We did, we talked about whether or not we wanted them to be able to use cell phones, or not to use cell phones, could cell phones work that way? SW: Could they get through the shroud? Well, we knew they couldn’t get through the shroud AH: How did the shroud work when it came to people outside? There were a lot of rules that we inside the room spent a lot of time discussing how things would work.

[As Nathan is telling Audrey who he’s taking with him to the power plant, and the camera cuts away to show those people, and Vince and Dave’s argument] AH: Speed, I have to give you big props for pushing with the intercut here, because it’s not something we usually do on this show. And you really encouraged me to push it further and I think it ended up working really well. SW: Well you did have the instincts to do that, and TV now can really jump all over the place and audiences follow it. Haven has typically followed a pretty standard way of story telling. But, for film students out there, this started (and we’re now back to) a conversation between Nathan and Audrey, that cuts forwards to a walking shot [of the group coming up to Trouble Alley], that cuts back to a flashback of Dave and Vince, and then comes back to the overarching narrative [Nathan and Audrey’s conversation]. You’re following that as you watch it, but it is - at least to the tastes of this show - a risky re-arrangement of time. AH: It looks good though. SW: And it’s very efficient story telling. You can get more story in in less time. AH: We did get very efficient on this show, I have to say.

[Vince and Dwight’s conversation in the office about the batteries] AH: This relationship was a lot of fun. And it was great to build it, and talking to Adam Copeland about it, he really thinks of the character, of Dwight, that Vince is his dad so to speak. When he’s thinking about how to play a scene really works in that kind of structure.

SW: To be clear, in case we got confusing before, Trouble Alley has no cell phones working. Cell phones work within the school, and around town inside the shroud, except for Trouble Alley where - did we explain it, I can’t remember, but there’s some kind of electromagnetic Trouble there. AH: Yeah and EMP kind of Trouble that’s knocking out a lot of the power.

AH: This episode moves a quite a clip. And again we’re back here in Halifax. SW: Actual Halifax. And here is Hailie. AH: Hailie, played by Tamara Duarte. SW: She just had a spot on audition. I think Shawn Pillar, our executive producer director, knew her, and she delivered a tape that was just perfect. We needed somebody who was broken and hard, and yet also vulnerable which is not easy to do. And she’s a young actress. AH: And she can sell stuff so well with expression, that’s one of the things she brought to this. And this character ends up growing. We originally only had her in these two episodes [515 and 516] but then she becomes integral to the story. And that was interesting because we hadn’t actually shot these scenes yet - as we were talking about earlier, the Duke scenes were shot much later than the rest of the episode - so we had to go back and change things a little bit to make sure it lined up with the mythology that we were putting in to the show to pay off in epsiodes like 21, 22, 23. It was interesting. SW: And we designed her Trouble before we thought how we were going to use her later (to phase through the shroud). But it was kind of cool, we essentially took a tool that we’d built off the shelf, instead of designing it specifically. SW: I love the story Matt McGuinness tells about when he was in Vegas with some of his friends from Franklin & Bash on a retreat there. And they were getting into a hotel van to go down town for dinner or something like that. So they’re this goupr of 50 year old men, and in climbs a group of good looking 50 year old women who were there for some sort of party. And they get to talking and flirting. So it’s like; What do you do? Oh we write for TV, Franklin & Bash. And that drops like a lead balloon; nobody cares. So Matt says; Well actually I write for Haven - and they all light up. And one woman says to Matt; You know what I love about Haven - it’s so complicated, but I know that you guys have everything absolutely planned out right from the beginning, so even though it feels confusing at times, I feel safe in your hands. AH: *laughing* What did Matt say to that? SW: He nodded and said; You’re right. And then he came back and told us that story. And, it’s just not true folks, I’m sorry. We are scrambling at every moment to figure it out. I think we do. AH: I think we do. That’s the thing, we make it work. Unlike other shows (nothing against them) we do take pains to make sure that if we set it up, we fix it, we make sure it works. We sometimes spend long days on getting that stuff to work.

[As Nathan is about to take the group into Trouble Alley] AH: I do enjoy this bunch of ragtag misfits working together. SW: Notice, another invisible Trouble. That’s a crew member with a wire in their hand; that’s cheap. AH: But if you’re wondering what I think it looks like, I’ve always thought of it as like Godzilla, a smaller version of Godzilla. SW: Cool! AH: Just invisible.

[As Charlotte gets her foot caught] AH: Oh, and again, talking about The Walking Dead transitions, Nathan in the original draft was super dark here where instead of saving Charlotte, Nathan basically blackmails her freedom in exchange for information. SW: Right, it was jumping up a wall originally, and he was only going to pull her up if she gave up the information about the aether. Whereas here now she offers it because she’s in trouble. AH: So I think it was a good note to pull back on that, but again it was just getting into that head space of Game of Thrones, Walking Dead.

[Duke on the phone to the bank who refuse to recognise the existence of Haven.] AH: And again here we are putting in some rules of the shroud, how does it work with memory, what do people of think of Haven, that are outside of the shroud. SW: Yeah, important for the rest of the season. AH: And are these - yes they are, the first episodes to really start Duke on this journey of him walking the earth. SW: Oh yeah for sure. Last episode he was in Haven. AH: And that plays out for quite a while. SW: Yeah he’s out of town for a while.

[Nathan and the others arriving at the smashed up Herald] AH: This scene I felt was important, just to show how the world has changed so much for everyone. You know, no one is safe. And it’s not just Troubles, there’s looters and stuff where the Troubles have set off a fuse, but at the end of it is just crime and everything. SW: And very poignant that it’s Dave here in the Teagues home, because for most of the series they were the keeper of the secrets. If everyone else was confused, they knew what was going on. And then a little bit in season 4 it started getting out of their hands , and then certainly in season give they are way out of their depth. And this their vault of secrets has been affected.

[As Charlotte is telling Nathan that aether might help her solve the Troubles AH: Here we had to be very specific about this receipe for success and how it would work.

[Dwight to Audrey; It’s easy making choices from the side lines] AH: This is the ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown’ aspect

[As we see the power plant] AH: This was actually a power plant SW: Yeah it’s so cool. Very unusual looking place. AH: So that was neat that we were able to get an actual power plant with the turbines and everything. I will say for myself, that I am not mechanically inclined at all. So there was a lot of help from the room in figuring out how electricity works. And this is Kira Fletcher, this is our third Fletcher that we’ve used on this show.

AH: It was nice to get everybody in the dirty clothes and everything too. And they wore it all well.

[As Nathan takes the wires from Kira] AH: That’s the other thing, in these episodes I really wanted to make Nathan as active as possible. He’s trying his best to put this genie back in the bottle. And just every time he tries to do something good it seems to backfire. SW: Well, it’s sort of the theme of the show; No good deed goes unpunished. AH: And we’re going to see that with Duke right here.

[As Hailie is asking Duke about her mom’s ‘superpower’ AH: And again, a lot of this story we had put in here, and we didn’t have to alter it when we came up with the fix or the solution or the mythology for 21, 22, 23. SW: Well and episode 20 as well. AH: Yeah, her mom is seeded in right there. SW: If you haven’t seen it yet, epsiode 20, Sam Ernst and Jim Dunn wrote a retro Haven episode that features Hailie’s mom. AH: And I remember there was talk about using Tamara to play Hailie’s mom. But I don’t think we did that in the end.

[As Duke and Hailie finish their conversation outside the garage] AH: Oh, somebody listening in. SW: 26B, is that what Matt calls it? AH: Yeah, 26B SW: Matt’s code for someone overhearing.

AH: This was fun with Charlotte as a character where she comes from another world that’s much more advanced, so she’s not a mechanic, she’s not an engineer by trade, but our technology is so simple to her. SW: It’s like playing with a paperclip to her. There’s a word that we use all the time in the room that isn’t actually in the show; Arcadians. Just to ourselves, Charlotte and Mara and her father are Arcadians. And William.

[As Audrey finds Vince with Rolf’s body, the latest victim of the No Marks Killer] AH: And this was some heavy mythology to drop as well. There is a lot going on in this episode! SW: Yeah it’s really the season premiere AH: It was nice to bring the Teagues back into the main cast. They’ve been out on an island almost, having their own plot and learning a lot of stuff that was very important. But it was nice to bring them back so that they’re interacting again with Audrey and Nathan, and Dwight. SW: And they do well when they’re holding secrets. They’re built for that.

AH: Eric Cayla, our Director of Photography, did some great work with darkness and shadows in this episode. [Audrey; Did they force you to do this? Because I can get you out.] AH: And there’s that Audrey compassion that’s going to play a big role in 17 SW: We like to, on this show to set up things, especially as it’s become more serialised. And with that litle line there, Audrey just sealed her fate for episode 17, or the end of 16. AH: Yeah, that was another one, like we talked about with 9 and 10, where the ending moved back and forth.

[Dave to Charlotte; Is there anything I can do to help? Back rub? Water?] SW: *laughing: Oh Adam. You have a way of getting humour in. That’s just terrific AH: *also laughing* I remember there was some debate though about that ‘back rub’ if he was coming on to her. And I was just like: No, no - he’s just in an awkward situation and doesn’t know what to do. Being an awkward person myself, that’s coming from real experience.

AH: And this was great work by the art department on these power schematics. It really helped tell the story.

[people in the school fighting over a flashlight] AH: Chaos! And this is again that post-apocalyptic landscape [Dwight; Alright everyone take a deep breath SW: That’s what I say to my kids when they throw tantrums AH: But not the rest of the speech. And this just shows how Dwight has elevated in the eyes of the town.He really is the leader. So interesting where you started with this character and where he ends.

[As Nathan and Kira find the mine shaft where the aether seems to be] AH: So we were talking this through, if this is where William’s stash of aether is held, our idea behind it is that he stashed it in a natural cave or underground area, geological formation of some kind SW: Like 500 years ago AH: And then things were built over it. It’s not that William went there when that building was built and buried it there. SW: Right, just to line up with the backstory that William and Mara were trapsing round New Engliand in the 1500s.

[Mechanic on screen; I looked you up Hailie Colton] AH: Oh I remember we didn’t have a last name for her initially. We had to go back and add that in.

[Duke runs the mechanic over and drives through Hailie] AH: Yes, Duke knew that was going to happen. He was not trying to kill Hailie. And props to Shawn and Rick for blocking this, it was not the easiest scene to block - a lot of moving pieces.

[As Audrey is packing a bag to go look for Nathan] AH: And here we were trying to have a nice mother/daughter moment SW: Yeah you did a great job. The slow arc of getting them together. AH: I think that’s the other thing we tried to do with these episodes is re-establish that anything could happen. That this is a new world order, bad stuff, people are dying. And it could be one of our characters. SW: Yeah we talked about where to end this episode and start the next one [The implication being they considered ending the episode before Nathan gets back, and so with the suggestion that he is actually dead] AH: I think a lot of these background extras here [as Nathan arrives in the hall full of people] were comped in. SW: They had 300 extras on the day AH: Was it 300? Maybe they weren’t then, maybe it was all practical.

AH: Thank you for listening SW: We’ll see you on 16

#haven syfy #havensyfy #syfyhaven #haven maine #haven 5 #haven dvd commentaries #5.15 - power

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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

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Rigged for Disaster - Re-Review #50

So, ‘Inferno’ has been posted about fifteen minutes ago, and this should now be posted like I have scheduled! Due to CITV changing the episode air times, again, the Re-Review Series will be returning to it’s original 6:30pm upload time. Except today, there are two. Inferno was like a bonus, and this is the actual episode that aired.

Unfortunately, as I’m still working, I didn’t really have the time to write two for you today, but I’ve managed to do it by making this one a little shorter (and possibly rushed), so if things are missing, I apologise (but you did get two, so forgiveness?) and I may well come back and edit at a later point.

So, first off, I adore the fish in the opening shot! But I couldn’t find a decent picture of him :(

Secondly, anyone else getting TOS ‘Atlantic Inferno’ vibes?

“The crew’s worried about that storm, boss!”

“They should be more worried about their jobs! Tell them to get back to work.”

Well, this guy can be added to the Hall of Shame set up in my last review.

“Flying car?”

Yep. She’ll teach you a lesson mate.

“Ready Parker?”

“Ready, M’Lady.”

These two, are always ready.

“Rig Supervisor Malloy, I assume.”

Malloy, from ‘Brink of Death’ (TOS)...

“She’s no hordinary do-gooder, mate. ‘ere’s the contract to prove hit.”

“What my driver means to say, is I’ve just become the owner of this oil rig.”

“Is she for real?”

“Yes. I am. And my first order of business is to decommission oil production on this dreadful rig. It’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And hazardous for everyone on board.”

Well, since you’ve said it Lady Penelope, shall we just dive in?

“Oooh-wah! *Rig breaks apart and guy falls to the floor (is the eye patch coincidence or do we think he’s lost an eye on this rig?* I’m ok!”

Point proven. Disaster #1 (although a minute one)

“That’s the overboard alarm system.”

I’m honestly surprised - with the state of this rig - that they have one, and even more so that it works!

“Someone’s gone over the edge!”

“Help!

Disaster #2. Look at her, hanging on and screaming for dear life. That’s obviously what you get for siding with the “New Boss” when your old boss is a little like a pirate criminal.

“Parker, have you driven one of those before.”

“hI can drive hanything, Miss.”

“Take it down. Ahh! Parker!”

“Sorry. ‘ard to get the knack for this hone.”

Thought you said you could drive anything, Parker? I had complete and utter faith in you, as well.

Speaking of Kayo as well, why is she there? She just turned up out of the Shadows. Makes sense I suppose.

Anyhow, onto Disaster #3. Fire!

“Steady Sherbet.”

“Woah Parker!”

“Sorry, M’Lady! This his heaven ‘arder than the last hone.”

Yeah, maybe next time we should say almost anything. To be strictly correct.

“hIs hit supposed to sound like that?”

“No! Get to the other side now!”

Sherbet! Did you see Parker’s face at the little paws scrabbling for purchase.

“hUp we go!”

“Parker, you saved Sherbet!”

“We’ve hall make mistakes, M’Lady. Get hoff!”

You can tell the level of affection has changed though. Parker doesn’t really mean that anymore.

And that was Disaster #4.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

“That looks more like a disaster than a situation.”

Thank you, Virgil.

“You’ve got to evacuate before the whole thing goes under.”

“The submerged platform is damaging the pipe.”

“We’re talking thousands of barrels worth of oil spilling into the ocean.”

Disaster #5 in the making.

“I’m going to remain on board and keep the pipe safe. As they say, the owner always goes down with the rig.”

“I don’t think anyone says that.”

“Well they should.”

“Parker, fire up FAB One.”

“Right haway, M’Lady.”

“So, he’s good to drive?”

“This one’s a little more his style.”

A lot more his style, thank you. And I think Parker probably could drive most things. Just not things you find on an oil rig.

“It worked! The platform has stopped sinking.”

“Something’s popping hup hon the hinfrared sensor. Crikey! There’s people inside.”

And here comes Disaster #6.

Where’s Virgil? We could really do with him right about now.

“But Mr Gordon’s the honly hone with that sort of diving equipment.”

The look on her face was enough to say that Parker was wrong. I wonder why Brains was making her a diving suit... Hmm?

So, we’ve got Doyle using the crane, and Kayo assisting with Thunderbird Shadow, whilst Parker is dog-sitting and Lady Penelope is going for swim. I think that covers it in like the three minutes-ish I have left to type all of this.

“M’Lady, hI’ve got hevery faith hin you, but that new heva suit ‘asn’t been tested.”

“And I can’t think of a better time to try it. Who knew Brains had such an eye for fashion.”

It does look kinda fashionable. Look at Sherbet! He always looks fashionable too.

*Bark Bark*

“hOh no! M’Lady, something is coming this way! Something big!”

“Well that is rather distressing.”

My advice - as someone who cannot swim and really doesn’t big bodies of water - get back in the car. Fast.

Or just ignore me and hang on for dear life. That works.

“Don’t worry, Sherbet, she’ll be hokay. hI ‘ope.”

She always is. In fact, all of you are. You’re a pretty good team. Although the upset when they think they’ve lost her and then the hand on the window. Love this scene.

“hAwww, she’s making me blush.”

Thunderbird Shadow really can do a bit of heavy lifting. A bit. I mean, the crane struggled and Shadow’s engines struggled and the platform tumbled.

“I can’t hold it any longer. It’s pulling me down.”

It was nice to see TAG try and write a rescue for Kayo though, although they definitely wrote her ship more for bad guy chasing, not even dual purpose.

“Without the crane there’s nothing we can do!”

“Anyone need a lift?”

So Virgil arrives to save the day by doing some heavy lifting - and dissing of Kayo’s ship.

“It can barely fly, let alone lift anything.”

It’s a true observation based on previous efforts, but the idea to use Shadow as grip does actually work. I will admit I was skeptical.

“It worked!”

It did! Magically all of the above Disaster’s were fixed or averted! How grand is that!

Honestly, I’m sorry I couldn’t write anymore (or all of this in a better way), but my fingers are tired from trying to type quickly without making any typos so this is what it is.

See you all tomorrow!

#thunderbirds are go #Rigged for Disaster #Darkestwolfx #Re-Review Series #Scott Tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #Lady Penelope #Parker #Sherbet #FAB One #Kayo #Rosamund Pike #David Graham #Angel Coulby

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this-is-freeridge · 5 years ago

Text

The Air Between Us

Chapter Eighteen: Mari deals with the aftermath of her attack.

Warning: this fic deals with dark themes, including but not limited to teen pregnancy, rape, drug abuse, murder, abortion, underage drinking and underage sex. Read at your own risk.

Find all the other chapters here.

Read the better-edited and revised version here.

With a cry that bordered on a scream, Mari threw her phone to the side, pressed the palm of her non-injured arm to the floor and, using all the strength she could muster, she pushed herself up. It took everything she had just to stand; her legs shook and her left arm fell limp at her side and she could feel the side of her face starting to swell.

She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, to curl up on the cold floor and hug her knees to her chest and she wanted to sob.

She didn’t want to move, but there was more than her own health at stake; something she’s ashamed to admit she hadn’t considered when she decided to take out all her anger at the world and, for once, fight back. Her phone was all but dead, and she needed to get to a hospital. Help wasn’t on its way, so this was just another thing on the long list of things she had to do herself, no matter how much it hurt.

Her legs buckled with every step she took, but she pushed through the pain shooting through her bones and the burning sensation in her side and the dizziness threatening to take her out. Though it took everything she had, every last ounce of will, she made it outside where she collapsed against the building and opened her mouth to gasp in the fresh air, as though it were her first time being able to breathe.

And to Mari, it was; it was breathing again for the first time. It was the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she realised she was grateful to be alive.

Actively attempting to slow her breathing, she crouched and cradled her dislocated arm, leaning her right shoulder against the wall. She needed a moment. She needed to catch her breath and find what remained of her willpower before she forced herself back up again.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a voice; the same familiar voice she had heard inside. Her breath caught in her throat, slow breathing now coming out in sharp ragged puffs. She couldn’t see them, not in the dark with only the moon and the headlights of a metallic green muscle car, but she could make out the shapes well enough.

First, she saw a man, a little taller than her, if she had to wager a guess, in what looked like a denim jacket. One hand on his hip, the other resting against the roof of the car as he propped himself up and talked animatedly at the boy sitting in the back seat of the car.

The boy in the black hoodie and green bandana.

The boy who had held a gun to her head.

She swallowed the bitter fear on her tongue. Sweet rage filled her bones and warmed her blood.

The boy in the hoodie brought a hand up and the bandana came off in one swift motion. She wished she could see his face. She wished she could burn it into her memory, remember every detail, so she would have someone to hate, someone to blame for the way she felt; powerless and weak. But she knew she had been feeling like that long before tonight, and she couldn’t see anything beyond the dreadlocks that fell past his face.

The boy shuffled into the back of the car and the man was closing the car door and smacking his hand against the roof and then, the green low-rider was speeding away. Mari was stuck; unable to escape if caught and definitely not strong enough to fight back. The man had turned and was heading towards her before she could think up her next move.

And, as he swaggered steadily closer, he was illuminated by a dim street light. Mari released a shuddering breath, feeling almost relieved yet there was something, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, reminding her she wasn’t out of the woods. She wasn’t safe yet.

He seemed to notice her too as he frowned a little, glanced around and broke into a jog.

“What are you still doing here?” He hissed, sounding a little more incredulous than angry.

Her hands shook, goosebumps prickled her skin as Easy headed closer, closer. Was this it; the end? She didn’t see much, she definitely didn’t see the boy, but could she convince him that? Would she get the chance to try before he put a bullet in her head?

Did she care?

She would miss Oscar, she knew that much. (Well, as much as you can miss someone from beyond the grave.) And she would miss the Martinezes, even Geny.

But they would all move on.

Ruben wasn’t around enough to miss her. Geny barely liked her and Abuelita was rarely around when she was. The twins wouldn’t understand, Mari was off at college, Ruby had his friends and Oscar...

It wasn’t serious, Mari told herself. He would find someone else; someone tall and pretty and emotionally available. Someone who could treat him the way he deserved to be treated, someone who could make him smile that dimpled smile, the one she loved so much, without even trying.

And then there was the baby. She had barely even thought of what she was going to do with it, though in her defence, she thought, she had found out a mere twenty-four hours ago. But she had to decide; she had to get a handle on the situation before it blew up - before anyone else found out.

Mari couldn’t help but think, maybe it would be better if it all just...stopped. At least it would be easier that way.

It would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought about it before, that the thoughts didn’t crawl out of the shadows in the darkest parts of her mind and torment her late at night when she was all alone, or when Oscar was snoring beside her.

But she was weak. She had always been weak and she couldn’t do it; guilt swallowed her whole each time she even considered It. What would they say if she failed? What would they say if she succeeded?

Yet, as she sat beaten and bruised before someone who had not only the means but the motive to end it all now, she wondered if it was all still worth fighting for.

Despite her entire body screaming in protest, she pushed herself up, meeting him eye to eye.

“What?” She asked, and then as if daring him, “Here to finish the job?”

Mari swore he rolled his eyes, but maybe she was a little delusional from getting a gun to the face.

“Here to make sure you’re okay,” her eyes narrowed in wary questioning. He continued, “Let me take you to the hospital,”

“What do you want?”

“Come on, ma, I told you. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,”

“Why do you ca-” her words broke into a wail as pain shot through her side and she doubled over, hand tightening on her dislocated arm to hold it in place.

This time he definitely rolled his eyes.

He walked to a shiny black car that was parked in the shadows and held the door open, “Just get in the car,”

But Mari was stubborn, and she was sick of always needing to be saved.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I can do it myself,”

“You sure about that?” He asked, thick eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, “because it looks like you just pissed yourself,”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammered as fear caught her in a vice grip. Trying not to choke on the lump in her throat, she spared a glance down. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the dark patch between her thighs.

“That’s not-” she rasped, but she wasn’t able to say any more. To admit what was happening would mean acceptance and she just wasn’t ready for that yet. “I need to get to a hospital,"

. : ♱ : .

Easy ran at least three red lights to get her to the hospital. He said it was because he didn’t want her to ruin his leather seats, despite the crease in his brow hinting at genuine concern. Hitting the brakes hard enough to leave tire marks when they finally reached the hospital, Easy wasted no time in getting her into a wheelchair and through the doors to the ER.

Mari was already sobbing, by this point. In part due to the aching feeling that started at her thighs and had spread quickly to the rest of the body, but for the most part due to the sheer fact that it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Shit, she couldn’t help but think this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. But it was happening, and it was happening now; three months earlier than anticipated.

Easy rang the reception bell more times than necessary to “get some damn help over here!”

In the back of her mind, she vaguely registered a nurse rushing through the doors and taking her from Easy, but it was hard to focus on anything beyond the faint buzzing that the world had become. Her mind had tuned out until everything was white noise; everything except her thoughts, screaming in high definition I can’t do this!

Everything had been taken from her; her body by Doyle, her freedom by this baby and her choice whether or not to have it by an unnamed, irresponsible kid who wanted to prove he was tough enough to be a Prophet.

She was supposed to have time. If anything, she was at least supposed to have two weeks left to decide if she wanted to keep it and now that choice, like every other one she foolishly believed she had, was taken from her too.

Her body ached as the nurse took her hand and gently guided her to her feet. The moment her weight shifted a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her, from her thighs to her back and she doubled over with a pained cry.

The nurse laid a tender hand on her shoulder and guided her slowly aside.

“I know it hurts, sweetie, I just need you on this bed,” she said, her soft and nurturing voice helping to calm Mari if only a little. “Can you do that for me?”

Through tears, Mari nodded and shuffled until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the hospital bed. One hand found purchase on the edge of the bed as the other hung limply at her side. Easy stepped forward to help as it took all her strength to push herself up onto the bed.

The back of the bed started to raise and Mari tried not to yell out at the pain in her lower abdomen as she was moved into a sitting position.

“Look,” Easy said, coming to her side so he was in her line of vision, “you’re in good hands now, ma. I think I should head off,”

In a panic at the mere prospect of being here alone, Mari’s hands shot out and grabbed at his arm.

“No, please don’t go!” she begged.

Easy let out a heavy, borderline-resigned sigh, “I shouldn’t be here,”

Mari knew he shouldn’t, knew he wasn’t who she wanted here. Oscar was supposed to be there, by her side, when this happened (or didn’t happen, not that she had much of a choice now).

She had asked him just last night, as they lay tangled in his sheets. He had asked what she thought she was going to do and Mari told him in all honesty that she had no idea, but either way she had wanted him there. Of course, he agreed; he would do anything for her.

The nurse moved further to the end of the bed and, despite Mari’s tear-blurred vision, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Latisha. At least there was another, more familiar face here. For just a second Mari didn’t feel quite so helpless.

“Is he family?” Latisha asked. Mari shook her head. “Baby daddy?”

“No! Uh-uh,” Easy shook his head ferociously and glanced around as though Oscar would appear at the mere suggestion of the Prophet touching her.

“Then I’m afraid he can’t come any further,” she said, speaking solely to Mari before turning to the man, one brow raised in suspicion, “you can wait here until she’s allowed visitors. We might have some questions for you about how you found her,”

And then Latisha was pushing her through the large double doors and Easy was out of sight, out of mind.

“Mari?” Doctor O’Connor called as she rushed forward, tying a mask to her face in her haste, “What happened? I was just with her yesterday!”

“I- ah!” whatever Mari was about to say was cut off as she howled out, throwing her head back and giving a choked sob.

“Alright, Mari,” Doctor O’Connor’s voice was calmer now, steadier, “I need you to lift your knees up, can you do that for me?”

She only sobbed harder, but she nodded and although she did her best to obey, Latisha came around to help as Mari’s whole body had stiffened in pain.

“That’s it,” Latisha smiled and wasted no time pushing Mari further down the hall and into a private room at the end of a ward labelled MATERNITY.

All at once, the wind was knocked out of her and Mari only had one thought: I can’t do this.

“This baby is very premature,” Doctor O’Connor said, “almost three months, so your body is under a lot of pressure right now, okay? It’s rushing this labor; you’re at stage two already so Mari, I’m gonna need you to push for me. Can you do that?”

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t be a mother.

Where would the kid live? What would she do with her life? She may not have known exactly what her aspirations were but she knew they were more than raising a kid.

And what about Oscar? How would he react to this? Right now he was the only thing grounding her, making her feel like she was normal. Like she wasn’t so horribly fucked up. There was no way she could cope with losing him. He said he was okay with this but he was supposed to have time, too.

He wouldn’t want her after this, she was sure of it. Finally, she had found someone who didn’t repulse her when they touched; someone who made a tantalising fire burn in her core with just a look. Someone who made her feel brand new. She wouldn’t be the same after this; she was already battered and bruised and now she was about to give birth. He wouldn’t want her.

She was going to lose him.

Frantically, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could stop this all happening through sheer force of will.

“No! No, I can’t! I can’t do it! I can’t, please don’t make me!” Sobs racked her body, her voice was hoarse, her face swollen and her shoulder still dislocated. She just wanted it to end; that boy should’ve done her a favour and killed her when he’d had the chance.

As if it would make a difference, she continued to plead, “Please, please don’t make me! I was supposed to have time- I was supposed to choose! This isn’t fair!”

A soft hand landed on hers. It squeezed just a little, just enough so that Mari felt she was safe to take a breath, and then, voice thick with sympathy (though Mari would argue it bordered on pity) Latisha said, “Honey, none of this is fair. And I know it’s hard, and you don’t think you’re strong enough, but you are.”

Red-rimmed, tear-stung eyes glanced up at the nurse, then across at the doctor who was standing between her legs like something out of a horror movie and despite her fear and the aching that throbbed down to her bones and the knowledge that she would never be the same, that Oscar would never look at her again with such unrestrained want, Mari nodded.

She had expected it to hurt more, but when she started to push the pain in her abdomen eased, as though her body was thanking her.

But it was taxing. Latisha still had hold of her hand, but Mari had to do this part herself and her body had already been through so much trauma, it was hard to muster the strength.

“That’s it,” Doctor O’Connor encouraged, “you’re doing great,”

And then her mind drifted to Oscar, the way it did every time life was becoming too much, every time she needed an escape.

Desperate for a distraction, something to soothe her racing heart and frantic nerves, her mind traced every detail of him. She remembered dark chocolate eyes gazing into her own and the way his violent hands felt against her palm, or gliding over her back or sliding up her thighs. She thought of the weight of him on top of her, the way his body — strong, hardened — felt beneath her own.

He should be here. He should be holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. He should be running a hand through her hair and reminding how strong she is. He should be here, telling her proud he is and how much he lo-

“Stop!” Doctor O’Connor called suddenly, “Stop! Something’s wrong. I can’t get a good enough look…Latisha, put her under; I’m going to have to do an emergency C-section,”

Before Mari even had the chance to protest, to be scared, Latisha was hovering over her with a gas mask.

The last thing she thought of before everything went black was a pair of dark chocolate eyes gazing into her own.

. : ♱ : .

There was a throbbing in her shoulder when she finally came to.

Although she felt far from relaxed, she kept her eyes closed just a little longer, yearning for a few minutes more where she didn’t have to think about what’d happened; didn’t have to worry about where to go from here. But she couldn’t ignore reality forever, as much as she wished otherwise, and regretfully, her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Easy’s soft voice sounded from her bedside. She thought he had left.

Her voice was thick with sleep as she asked: “What are you still doing here?”

“I left for a while; then I came back. Wanted to make sure you’re okay,”

“But why?”

Easy shrugged and offered an almost-smile.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter, y’know?” He glanced around, eyes sweeping the room before he added, “I ain’t sticking around; I don’t want no beef with Oscar, so I plan to be gone when he turns up,”

“I don’t- “ she cut herself off and glanced down at her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to admit it, because it hurt, but it was the truth. “I don’t even know if he’ll be here,”

The words came out in a whisper. It was hard to think about, let alone voice, the fact that she may have to go through this entire ordeal alone. Her family didn’t know, and she wasn’t ready for them to find out, but Oscar knew. Oscar already knew and he supported her and he wasn’t here and she couldn’t tell him.

“Why not?” His brow furrowed, “I saw the way he looked at you, ma. He wouldn’t miss this,”

She knew that. Deep down somewhere, she knew the way he looked at her, but it filled her body with warmth to hear it from someone else.

Still, the situation hadn’t changed.

“My phone’s dead,” she explained, “I can’t tell him what’s happened,”

Easy didn’t say anything for a minute, just shoved his hand in his pocket. Mari thought he was getting ready to leave, and she was preparing herself for isolation once more, and then he pulled out a smartphone and was handing it to her.

“So call him. Just don’t mention me or my boy and we’re good,”

What other choice did she have but to agree to those terms? She needed to speak to Oscar, needed him to be here.

Oscar had made her memorise his number early on in their friendship, just in case of emergencies. Her hands shook as she dialled the number and pressed the phone to her ear and she waited for him to pick up.

Usually, she didn’t have to wait long. Usually, he picked up at the sight of her name, before the first ring. This time, it rang once and then-

“I’m busy; leave a message, hombre,”

Straight to voicemail.

Mari frowned at the phone, unable to shake her thoughts that: this isn’t normal, something is wrong. But maybe he was just busy, Santos business that he didn’t want to involve her in. After only a brief pause where she considered trying again, she handed the phone back to the Prophet.

“He’s busy,” she said, “I’ll use a hospital phone or something to call him later,”

Easy pocketed the phone and gave her a nod.

“Look after yourself,” he said, turning on his heel to leave. He paused and shot a look back at her only to say, “Oscar’s a lucky man,”

And then he was gone.

The moment she was alone, Mari felt the tears sting in her eyes. She was tired of crying; the skin around her eyes was red and tender and the thought alone of crying any more was enough to make her hurt. She just wanted to sleep, to not be awake and forced to deal with this. To not feel so alone.

Eyelids heavy, she let them close and felt something close to peace. And then there was a knock on the door.

It was hard to open her eyes again, and even harder for her vision to adjust again to the light, but she was grateful that it was only Latisha.

“Hey,” she said with a warm smile, “it’s good to see you awake,”

If she had the energy, Mari would’ve rolled her eyes. “Wish I could say the same,"

Latisha said nothing else as she walked over to her bedside and started changing the IV fluid that was attached to the inner crook of her elbow. If Mari could go the rest of her life without another needle in her arm, she could die happy.

Mari had thought that she couldn’t feel any worse; she really did. But then she noticed another tube, one that was thin and yellow and started somewhere between her legs and ran all the way down the side of the bed to a drainage bag filled with-

She felt sick, helpless. She felt her stomach turn and her face grow hot.

“How long does that have to stay in?” She asked, her voice paper-thin, as the nurse exchanged the full bag for an empty one.

“The catheter is usually removed after a day or two, though everyone is different. It’s going to take some time for your body to adjust to the changes after the surgery,”

The next few minutes passed in silence as Latisha made note of her vitals and Mari wished once again that this would all be over.

When Latisha spoke again, Mari almost jumped at the sudden noise.

“It’s a boy,” she said. Mari’s heart clenched and her stomach twisted. “You can’t hold him yet; he was born far too early so he’s in the NICU on life support. But I can bring you to him if you want?”

“No,” the reply was instant, but Mari didn’t have to think about it. All she could think about, all she could feel, was the dull ache in her muscles and the sting from the needle that was stopping the use of her arm and the tube that reminded her she had no control of her body. She had no space in her mind or her heart for that baby; not when she needed someone to blame and he was the easiest target. “I don’t want to see him,”

Latisha didn’t push, something Mari appreciated. The two shared a short, understanding silence, and then the nurse asked: “What about your family?”

Mari blinked and looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“What?”

“The hospital called your dad, Ruben,” she explained.

Latisha was soft and sweet and so nurturing; she only meant well. Mari didn’t want to be upset with her, not when Latisha was the only familiar face she had, but she couldn’t seem to stop the venom seeping out of her heart and into her words as she snapped, “Why?”

The woman brushed a strand of tight curls away from her face and behind her ear before placing one hand on a cocked hip.

“Because you just had emergency an emergency c-section, Mari, a procedure that’s dangerous to both you and the baby,” she let out a deep sigh. Her eyes lost their sternness and the corners of her lips twitched into a pitiful smile. A soft hand came to rest on Mari’s forearm as she continued, “The hospital has a duty of care, and no one should be alone in this,”

Despite her kind words and the even kinder intention behind them, Mari yanked her arm out of the nurse’s grip as a tear slid down her cheek. Before any more could fall, Mari turned her head away; she wanted to roll to her side but her body refused to follow, muscles weak and attached to far too many machines.

“Send them home,” she said.

“Mari-”

“I’m not ready. Send them home,”

Taglist: @robinsdolan @lostgirl219 @kseniainneverland @ravengreystone @weediskindabad @moistdollerbills @javoqetal @kenzie44469 @goddessate @blackdepressoexpresso @classyputa @babygirl-htx @wonderlandlovelove @cacapoodlepoo @agent-femmefatale @elliesshitofablog @daydreamer0307 @lucyfuh @harduy @elizabeth-santana-98 @lonelyyblues

#on my block #Oscar diaz #Oscar Diaz imagine #Oscar Diaz fanfic #on my block imagine #spooky diaz #on my block netflix #omb

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asterythm · 6 years ago

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Can you spill some tea on aamour!Logan?

Oh boy, can I. I apologize in advance for how long this post might end up getting; I don’t know how many opportunities I’m going to get to go really in-depth about the AAmour boys, so I intend to take full advantage of this one… (Keywords in bold for easier readability.)

Let’s start with the lightest of the light: his text handle, mycroft-er-jam. I think the double meaning here is pretty clear. “Mycroft” represents Mycroft Holmes, from the Arthur Conan Doyle classic, and the username also reads as My Crofter(’s) jam. Puns? In Logan’s text handle? It’s more likely than you think.

There’s also a third hidden detail, however. “Er-”, as in “uh, um, er”, as in a filler sound that one might say when thinking, or uncertain, or… cutting themselves off. That was no mistake. Logan’s text handle subtly reflects a habit of not letting himself talk about his interests (like board games and – of course – a good novel), for fear of being considered “lame”, as the kids would say.

That’s a fear that stems from experience, by the way. Logan and Patton are commonly represented as foils to each other, and the AAmour boys are no different; Patton with the low “book smarts” but high emotional/social intelligence, Logan the other way around. Definitely the other way around. And as a child, it didn’t take long for Logan to learn this, observant as he was. After all, you can only be pushed down so many times before you start to believe that maybe you oughtn’t to get back up again, right?

Also, the fact that his biological parents gave him up for adoption doesn’t help. On one hand, he absolutely adores his dad and pop and wouldn’t give them up for the world (plus, if his biological parents had to give up their child, he figures he’d hardly fancy living with them either). On the other, Logan sometimes can’t help but think that if even his biological parents didn’t want him, who on Earth would?

Sorry, did I say light?

Anyway, long story short is that Logan’s never been great at getting along with other people. And after realizing just how unlovable he was, he figured, why even bother? Might as well save his energy for the things he actually was good at.

Namely, learning. Logan’s motto: “Make improvements, not excuses. Seek respect, not attention.” (quote from The Light in the Heart by Roy T. Bennett) Put simply, Logan focuses not on getting others to like him, but on making a difference so that others will have to notice him.

Though he certainly wouldn’t wish his life on anyone else, Logan has at least managed to convince himself that he is content with the life he has. Pop knows that it’s not true and Dad has his suspicions, but though they’ve tried to confront their son time and time again, Logan always claims homework as an excuse to shut the conversation down before it can even begin. The two of them have long given up on getting Logan to admit the truth; he’s starved for social validation.

…aaand that’s where Patton comes in. But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see exactly how their relationship plays out, huh? Can’t go giving the entire story away now, we’ve still got chapters and chapters of slow burn to go ;)

More fun facts that I couldn’t figure out how to fit in but I’m throwing in anyway because I spent forever on these character sheets, dangit:

He and his parents have lived in Sandford all their lives.

Speaking of his parents: Logan may not be an affectionate person, but his family is the exception.

Pop is quietly supportive. Logan shares his sense of curiosity and wonder about the world.

Dad is more outspoken and loves dad jokes and bad puns as much as, if not even more than, Patton does. (Logan may or may not have inherited the second trait as well, though he’d never admit it in a million years.)

Although he doesn’t play any sports himself, he loves to watch figure skating videos.

His orientation: demiromantic/asexual (male-oriented for both).

Though his regular outfit consists of nothing but dark polo shirts, blue jeans, neckties, and dress shoes, he favours turtleneck sweaters on casual days.

Also, he’s got a necktie collection.

On the subject of his appearance: behind those black square-rimmed glasses of his is actually quite the handsome face. With his deep brown eyes, strong jawline, and neatly combed hair, it’s easy to see why girls used to flirt with him all the time in middle school… before he made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested.

I know I promised “fun” facts, but let me just say that the tactless way in which he would reject said girls left, right, and center didn’t exactly make the target on his back any less pronounced.

He promotes healthy eating (as you’ll see in the next chapter) but hides a secret sweet tooth.

He’s particularly fond of thumbprint cookies – baked with Crofters, of course.

He wants to be a software engineer when he grows up.

His birthday is February 15; he was born a day earlier than expected.

His dad likes to joke that Logan’s had a passion for punctuality since he was still in the womb. It was funny… for a while.

Often, when his birthday gets brought up, someone will inevitably coo about how “close to the day of love” it is. Logan finds this ironic, since the way he sees it, he’s been screwing up on love since day one.

Send me some AAmour asks, or read chapter one here!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #a is for amour #ask me anything #long post #celery is good for the heart #spec speaks

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holyhikari · 6 years ago

Text

The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society

In which Damian and Jason bond over books and complicated feelings.

Batman (Comics) one-shot. Characters: Damian Wayne & Jason Todd.

Word count: 2695. For General Audiences. No pairings.

Read on Ao3: The Wayne-Todd Literary and Tea Society by Beatriz Caelum

When Damian sees Jason Todd, he is always tempted to ask a few questions.

You see, differently from most, what he wishes to say usually isn’t about the killing that happens when Jason puts on the infamous red helmet. That he is capable of understanding. Damian didn’t use to kill for anything related to ethics — a natural aspect of his birthright more than anything else —, as grey as morality can get in both sides of his family, but he has blood on his hands nonetheless.

There isn’t much to say about dying, either. They’ve both been there, at different times, in almost different worlds, clinging to what Bruce Wayne once meant, but Death is timeless and the same to everyone it touches. (It is life that is different. Damian woke up to love and Jason to absence.)

Sure, there were some scattered talks about it over a rooftop or two, mostly questions, “What do you remember of it?” and “Do you feel wrong when you breathe?”, that were met with, “I’m not sure,” and “Being alive to me has always felt somewhat unsettling,” but it wasn’t long before they realized that it was the last thing they wished to talk about, even with someone who could understand.

Good thing they can work just fine with silence.

Even though almost a full year has gone by after Damian was bought back to the unfortunate land of the living, he still catches the Red Hood looking out for him more than what is necessary whenever they happen to meet under Gotham’s night sky. It’s something he does even when they are in different sides of a fight, “not opposite sides,” Hood would say, “you know what I want for this hell of a city is the same that you want, too.”

(Damian supposes it is the same in more ways than it is not, but Father has a more abrasive opinion on the matter.)

Regardless of how many times Damian has snarled for him to stay out of his way — like a little brother would be upset rather than an acquaintance or an ally —, that he does not need the extra protection, especially not from him, the Red Hood is insistent. Merciless even about this.

Father’s face twitched when he mentioned the gesture. Drake teased, “you complain when we don’t like you, you complain when we try to help.” Richard gave him a sad smile that Damian couldn’t shake off for days; Nightwing is also prone to reckless protection around Robin, closer to endangering himself than he would be otherwise.

It makes it harder to work. It makes it more painful to love and be loved by Richard. It makes him more sensitive to what persisted of Father’s grief. But, right now, Damian can only think of how it makes him more curious about Jason Todd — he could write a list. How can you be so ruthless, yet so caring? How much of your idiocy is staged? How was Father before he lost you? Do you truly not realize the hole you left inside his heart?

But, most of the time, he wishes to ask him about Mother.

Damian knows they spent some time together. What of her that he knows that her own son doesn’t? He wonders, sometimes, what would have been of their weird brotherhood — if you could call it that — if Mother was to tell him about the ex-Robin’s leap into the Lazarus Pit. They could’ve met. He was very young then, but his tender age had never been an issue to the League. Perhaps, after probably trying to murder Jason for planning to hurt the Batman of all people, he would grow to admire that… unique determination. Like he does now, although reluctantly.

However, what actually pulls the trigger and has Damian swallowing his pride has nothing to do with blood — in any sense of the word.

“What do I own the visit?”

The way Damian stiffs, full on Robin gear and with only one foot into the apartment’s window, could only be caught by someone trained under his Father. The Red Hood snorts, a sound distorted by the helmet’s voice modulator.

“I assume you let me in,” he chooses to say. “Otherwise your security methods could be compared to the skillset of a babbling infant. And that is me being polite.”

“It sure is,” Hood sits down, couch worn out and small like most of his safehouses, reaching for a mug resting on a table. The room smells like cheap coffee — the kind that offends Drake to a personal level —, but Damian suspects that this is tea. “Alfred called. Like, a few minutes ago. Said that if I let my window open I might catch a bird.”

Damian clicks his tongue, “I didn’t tell Pennyworth to inform you of my arrival.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

He presses the bag he is holding a little too forcefully to his chest. “No.”

The Red Hood hums and takes off the helmet. Then, Jason Todd blows on his drink. “You must have noticed by now, but Alfie kinda does what he wants.”

(Damian has very much noticed.)

“Were you about to go out to do any of your nonsense?” He asks. Then, more shyly: “I could come back another time.”

For a moment, Todd looks like he’s about to ask what Damian wants from him, but instead, he raises an eyebrow. “You don’t get to boss me. Weren’t you supposed to be getting ready to patrol now, baby bat?”

Damian frowns at the nickname. “We’re going in later tonight for a specific mission, but, for once, I am not here to discuss any crime-related activity. It is more… personal.”

“Oh, no.” He groans louder than Damian wants to hear. “Is this any kind of family meeting? I know I have been on kinda-friendly terms with most of you for a while now, but I’m not in the mood for anything personal. ”

“It is not a family meeting.”

“Whatever it is, go to Dick.”

He clears his throat. “I think it will be of your interest.”

“Surprise me, then.” Todd sighs, stretching his arms. The mug is now empty and there’s probably more where it came from, but he doesn’t offer any beverage to Damian. Rude. “Do your worst, but you know I’m badder.”

He refuses the urge to roll his eyes at the insulting use of the English language — Todd is above this! — and drops his bag’s content onto the living room table with little to no ceremony, almost pushing the mug off. Jason curses at him.

Then, nine bangs. One from each Sherlock Holmes book colliding with the wood.

Todd's expression shifts in a way that Damian knows he wishes he still had the helmet on.

“These are mine,” he draws out, slow.

“Indeed.”

“You —,” Todd narrows his eyes, the greenish blue glowing accusingly. “You stole my books?”

Damian bristles, “I am above stealing.”

“I don’t remember giving them to you,” he points out. “Or letting you borrow them.”

“They were in the Manor’s library,” he says. “With some other books that also belonged — belong to you, I believe. They had a special place just for them.”

“Wh—”

“Pennyworth.”

Todd’s shoulders are still tense, but the lines around his eyes soften at Alfred’s name. Damian can see that there’s some sort of internal struggle by the way Jason’s body carries itself in what he recognizes as the most unforgiving self-discipline; as if his fingers itch to run through the books’ covers, open them, press gently to the pages’ margins to see — to feel — if the notes he took so fervently all those years ago are still intact, but he doesn’t want to have this moment in front of Damian.

“You came here to tell me you found out Alfie is a good person,” Todd deadpans, but Damian catches the constipated emotion nonetheless. “Amazing job, Detective.”

“I came here,” he hesitates, “because I saw your notes.”

Todd wrote on all the nine volumes, a rushed, clumsy but determined calligraphy squeezed between the edges and Arthur Conan Doyle’s words, mostly untouched with the exception of a few phrases carefully circled by Alfred where Todd had made a grammar or spelling mistake. By the end of each and every book, there’s Father’s handwriting complementing Todd’s observations and theories about the plot, the mysteries and the characters throughout the pages.

It made Damian heart’s ache when he saw it all. Younger Todd’s excited rambling about what he was reading was very, very bright. More often than not, he grasped even the more obscure clues and foreshadowings Doyle left within the narrative — a detective in making. A natural.

Damian had imagined Jason Todd as this dense, unruly kid that would only pick up a book if someone made him. Someone who worshipped senseless violence. It’s what almost everyone says. It’s what Todd himself tells people.

I was Robin. The bad one.

“And you’re here to tell me how stupid they were? How much better you were at my age?” Todd scowls, getting up a little too fast, already walking towards him. “Because I don’t want to hear any of it. Get out.”

“Thank you,” Damian blurts out before the most Al Ghul part of him shuts his mouth and before Jason pushes him out of the window. “It was a privilege to read them.”

Surprise bursts into Todd’s face and he almost loses his balance when his steps come to an abrupt stop. “What?”

“You were — I saw your other books,” he says. “You have excellent taste in Literature and your notes were filled with very pertinent insights.”

“You’re complimenting me.”

“Yes,” Damian rolls his eyes. “It would be foolish of me not to admit it.”

Todd opens his mouth, then closes it. He repeats the action a few more times.

“You’re welcome, I guess?” He says, exasperation coloring his tone. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Only the Sherlock Holmes collection had notes on them,” Damian decides to push his look. “I checked it twice.”

Todd’s lips twitch, forming a thin line. A sort of bitterness clings to him and Damian is suddenly too aware of the fact that the boy who wrote what he read is lost to more than time itself.

“B gave me them so the deductive skills part of training wouldn’t be so boring,” he sits down again, not looking at anything specific. “He — we decided to make it a sort of game. The notes were for him. So he could see my progress.”

“We don’t do this sort of activity,” Damian finds himself saying. He swallows, hand to his throat. The words hurt to pass through.

"I'd offer you tea, but I just ran out of it."

"Next time."

Todd’s smile is tired, “You can just ask Bruce to do stuff like this with you, gremlin.”

“I suppose I could,” he mumbles. Then, louder: “There are many clean books.”

“Don’t touch my stuff,” he snaps, but there’s no venom to it. “You hadn’t read Sherlock Holmes before?”

Damian’s back straightens. He puffs his cheeks involuntarily, “Of course I had. I wanted to re-read it. Who do you take me for? I’ve read the most celebrated literary works to date from authors all across the world!”

“To Kill a Mockingbird?” He challenges. “One Hundred Years of Solitude? Beloved? Fahrenheit 451? The Color Purple? The Left Hand of Darkness?”

“Please,” Damian scoffs. “I could’ve written an award-winning analysis on all of these when I was four.”

“What’s the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?”

“42.”

“Impressive.”

He shoots back at Todd a list of his own and isn’t all that surprised that Jason only stops him once, “Dom Casmurro? Never heard of it.”

“It’s from Machado de Assis,” Damian for once in his life tries not to sound arrogant when explaining something. “Brilliant writer from Brazil.”

“They’ve got Clarice Lispector too,” Todd’s eyes widen in recognition. “I’ll look it up.”

“No need,” Damian waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’ll have a copy delivered to you in no time. We can discuss it later if Capitu did or did not cheat on Bentinho and why it is unclear to this day.”

“I don’t know who these people are, but I bet she didn’t and, if she did, he deserved it.”

Damian almost smiles, “Good guess.”

“Uh,” he blinks. “Are you okay, Damian?”

“Do I not seem in a good condition to you?”

“You want to spend time with me,” Todd says, pointing to himself. “With me. ”

Damian tries to mask the disappointment that creeps up on him with his usual scowl. “If you find it unpleasant and does not wish to—”

“I’m just surprised,” he interrupts. “God. Did I wake up looking like Dick Grayson and no one told me?”

“You’re not entirely impossible to be around, I’ll give you that, but you aren’t Richard either.” He smirks wolfishly. “But you do have a chance to prove to me that you can discuss art better than anyone else in our family.”

The last two words envelop the room in a heavy sort of silence. No one dares to move for far too long, and, despite the stillness of it all, despite how little effort one has to make in order to unveil the exact pace of their heartbeats and what they hide, no noise from the outside is brave enough to interrupt whatever flows between Damian and Jason in this instant.

Damian doesn’t know if Pennyworth keeping the books made him sentimental, or if the Bat Signal is shining behind him for Father, or if the way he said our family was just like Richard says it, or if something about his careful way of approaching reminds Todd of how he and Drake started sorting out their own issues, or if the act of sharing words and finding meaning in it makes Todd’s mind wander off to Cain. Damian has no idea.

But, somehow, they’re all here. With them.

And Todd could run away. He could — and he doesn’t.

His hand finally finds its way to one of the books, with such care and devotion that, if it wasn’t for the bat plastered on Todd’s chest and the gun attached to his waist, no one would believe he’s the Red Hood.

“These stories,” Todd’s voice is not above a whisper, “made me feel like I had a home when you guys couldn’t.”

Damian’s eyes burn behind Robin’s mask. “You can have more than stories now. If you wish.”

The look in Todd’s eyes carries the kind of intensity that makes people afraid to live another day. Damian waits, without as much as breathing, for something to shatter; for having to turn his back and walk out with Todd’s rejection at his trail.

Instead, “Damian Wayne wants me to join his book club.”

Stunned, he almost falters. “If you want to put it that way.”

Todd turns away to put on his helmet before Damian can get a better look at his expression, but, if there’s anything feigned about Todd’s agreement, he isn't able to see. He seems to be getting ready for the night, back turned to Damian and a serenity to his movements that wasn’t there before.

“The things I do for art,” the voice modulator makes his dramatic sigh sound like static.

“I only expect the best,” Damian warns. “I choose the books.”

“Always?” Todd protests. “But then we’ll never know in which Hogwarts house you’re in, or who is your godly parent and if you’re in Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, if you’re Team Edward or Team Jacob, and I won’t get to see your face when Prim goes boom, or —”

Damian is almost regretting this already. “What even is this nonsense?”

“Oh, I’ll let you know.” Todd has one foot out of the window. “This is going to be priceless.”

“I won’t read any garba—”

“See ya in the Slytherin common room!”

“Where?”

Damian still has many questions to ask, but he is already gone, of course, and Robin is completely alone in the apartment.

But nowhere near as lonely as the other times Jason walked out on a conversation.

#Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #batfamily #dc comics #batman #my writing

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kbrown78 · 6 years ago

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Monthly Wrap Up: September

Looking back, September wasn't a great month. Granted I did read 9 books and 3 of those books were over 500 pages, but most of these books I didn't enjoy. There were a couple highlights and two of the books that I did read were non fiction, both I thought were fairly good. I will also say real quick that I tried to start the last book in the Gemma Doyle trilogy, but I gave up on it because it was the exact same story I had to endure in the second book and I wasn't going to deal with 800 pages of that.

The Defiant Heir by Melisa Caruso: This is the second book in the Swords an Fire trilogy, and I thought it was even better than the first, and I gave the first one 5 stars. First it does build off of what was established in the previous book, with the worlds and the characters. The main conflict is Amalia trying to prevent an internal war while also trying to solve what happened to the missing Falcons. This series is exactly what I want to read, with an amazing intellectual character who knows how to use her smarts to achieve her goals and is someone who tries to do right thing. The relationships are all astounding, female friendships in particular, and I like that Amalia's mother is an active presence who cares about her daughter but lets her do her own thing. The romance is great too, despite the fact that there is a love triangle. The villain is despicably evil, but he's not mustache twirling and while he did have a sad past, that fact isn't even remotely treated as an excuse for his horrible actions. The plot keeps me invested and keeps adding new twists that add to the story. The world is fantastic, with each location feeling well developed and distinct from each other. Seriously the only complaint I have about this series is that it isn't longer. The Defiant Heir received 5 out 5 stars.

Bitterblue by Kristen Cashore: This book was such a disappointment. When I first read the Graceling trilogy, I hated the other two books, and I think that clouded my judgement and made me rate Bitterblue much higher. I do ultimately think Bitterblue is the best book in the series, but after rereading it I realize that it's not nearly as good as I originally thought it was. It's going to be hard to do this review without giving away spoilers, but I'll try. A brief synopsis is that Queen Bitterblue is working to help her kingdom recover and there are those that are trying to stop her. So Bitterblue makes an effort to be a good ruler and do the right thing in difficult situations. She's also book smart, which I usually like that type of character, but she did some really stupid things and was also quite bratty at times. There are two potential love interests, and I didn't really like either of them. One was just brooding, which I never like in a love interest, the other one was a bit boring. The weakest aspect of this book is definitely the plot. There's a sub plot about rebellion in the other kingdoms, but it was pretty irrelevant to the overall plot, and I just wasn't interested in any of the characters involved. This is the part where it's impossible to talk about the book with out spoilers, but I will say this. The struggle's that the kingdom is facing were well written and did a good job of exploring various themes of ruling and recovery. However, the big plot twist at the end that helps resolve their issues is so unrealistic that it causes the entire story to just collapse. The best aspects of this book were some of the themes explored and the art work because there are some beautiful interior designs. I would still say this book is the best out of the three, but looking back it isn't nearly as good as I remember it (although I do in part blame the reading slump I was in after finishing Defiant Heir, but only partly). Bitterblue received 2 out 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar promt “book with your favorite color in the title”.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence: I went into this book with high expectations, and while it did live up to a few, it also disappointed me. The basic summary is this girl gets taken in by a convent of assassin nuns, where she spends her years training. Sounds like a pretty cool synopsis, but every time I hope a book is going to be similar to Harry Potter, with the schooling, it never lives up to that expectation. First I liked the protagonist, Nona. It was nice to have a female character who was a badass fighter, but she wasn't cold. She cares deeply about her friends and friendship and protecting those she cares about are important to her. That's not a type of character I see often. With that established, I do think some of the friendships were well done, like Hessa's, Arabella's and Clera's, because of how much they differ but at the same time feeling like it wasn't forced. Some of the nuns were interesting, but they didn't quite feel fully fleshed out, and one nun I hated because of how mean she was and I'm sick of seeing that kind of adult in fiction. The world building was so weird, and I honestly didn't like it because it felt very underdeveloped and made little sense. The story is Nona's story, but there times when I felt like it didn't focus on her and those were usually my least favorite parts because I was just invested in Nona, not in anything that was happening in the outside world or with any other character. Because of that there were some parts I honestly just skimmed through. I mentioned the Harry Potter thing, and what I meant by that is Nona has classes that she needs to take, and while they are mentioned, I didn't get much of sense of her learning. It was more like she suddenly had these skills, which I blame on both the lack of detail on what she did learn, and the poor pacing of this story, with those parts just being rushed through at a rate I couldn't even discern. So while I liked parts of the story, I definitely didn't love it was much as I thought I would and I'm not sure if I'm going to continue with rest of the series. Red Sister received 3 out 5 stars from me.

The Silk Roads: A New History of World by Peter Frankopan: I was originally going to be reading this book over the entire year, but I decided to just finish it up as some as possible. I didn't tag this book and I won't be doing a full review of it because it is historical nonfiction. Now the premise of the book intrigued me, exploring world history through the Silk Road, and I also though the cover was pretty. The first half of the book really intrigued because I like learning about ancient history, and it was very detailed and I was fascinated by what I was learning. My impression, however, had been that this book would primarily focus on ancient times, but this was not the case. I could have done with history that was all pre-1700s, but the last third of the book focused on history from the 1800s to modern times, and while I tried to pay attention because there was a lot that was relevant to today's world, I just couldn't focus as much as I had in the previous sections. That's not to say it wasn't as well written or well researched as the previous parts, I just wasn't interested anymore. So this book received 3.5 out 5 stars, but that's only because it's a case of “it's not you, it's me,” and I would highly recommend this book to anyone that loves history.

You Are A Badass by Jen Sincero: This was the other nonfiction I read this month, and this was just a real quick self help book. I do think overall it did a good job at identifying ways to improve but I do admit I started skimming through the extra text just to get to the bullet points. So helpful but maybe not presented in the most efficient way. You Are A Badass received 3 out 5 stars.

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins: Oh man, I was looking forward to this book, but it epicly failed. I read a sample of it and was really intrigued. It felt very mysterious, I didn't know exactly what was going on and I got the distinct impression that these characters weren't entirely human. Then I read the rest of the book and I didn't connect with any of the characters, I found the writing style to be increasing irritating, the story made no sense to me because I didn't understand what was happening and I didn't understand the sense of urgency, and I got increasingly sexist vibes from the story. All I can make sense of is that “Father” was gone missing from the Library and there's a lot of death and resurrection. I can't do a full review of this story because I DNFed it 50% through, I just couldn't take it anymore. I initially chose this one as my pick for the PopSugar promt “book set in a library” and needless to say this book received 1 out 5 stars because I couldn't even force myself to finish it.

Circle of Magic: Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce: I hoped that I would enjoy this one. I've been looking forward to reading it for awhile. But lately I've really been struggling with YA, and even for a YA book I found this one to be bad. First, there's no plot. Literaly two major events happen in the book and that's it everything else was filler. What I remember of almost all my favorite reads as a child (with the exception being East) is that they got into the action and the plot fast, so I can definitely say that even as child I wouldn't have liked this book. I thought all the characters were pretty flat. I wasn't expecting to get everyone's perspective, I thought there would just be Sandry's perspective, since the book is literally called “Sandy's Book,” and I don't think adding in the extra perspectives helped the story in any way. I also got the impression that the children were acting overly immature but also the audience was expected to be immature. There was one scene where three of the character don't know what the word “kid” means, and it really irritated me. I won't be doing a full review for this one too, because I did tag it, but I didn't take any notes because of how overly simple this story was. I have the next 3 books and maybe they'll get better, but I'm in no rush. Sandry's Book received 1.5 out 5 stars.

The Star Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi: So I mentioned in the previous entry that I have been struggling with YA, particularly YA fantasy. This book, thank goodness, is a very pleasant exception to that. I really liked reading this book the first time through, and second read through, while there were a few things I disliked, I actually enjoyed the story even more. It's always pitched as Hades/ Persphone with Indian folklore, and both parts are so well done. I loved the romance, I loved the story, I loved the characters (most of them). The writing style is gorgeous, it's so flowery and atmospheric. I could see the vivid colors, I could taste the jewel fruit. I love Chokshi's books, and I cannot wait to get to her short stories that are set in the same world. Star Touched Queen received 5 out 5 stars.

Sabriel by Garth Nix: And so we return to the YA slump. I shouldn't be too hard on this book though. There were some very interesting aspects of it, and the first half of the book was good. Sabriel was competent character who was trained to deal with death, and Mogget was this eerie figure that I kind of liked but was also kid of afraid of. I loved the focus on death, and how death is it's own world. The magic system was really cool to, with different marks and the bells. I thought the pacing of the first half was decent too, fast but not rushed. Things took a turn, however, when the love interest was introduced. It was so obvious this guy was the love interest, and the relationship felt so forced and there was insta-love, which I hate. After Touchstone was introduced, the pacing was so much more rushed, there was a lot of telling instead of showing, and there was also quite a bit Deus Ex Machina. Things really fell apart in the second half, and it turns out this was because the first book was going to be treated more as a prequel instead of a first book. Sabriel received 3 out 5 stars.

#monthly wrap up #books #september #the defiant heir #melisa caruso #star touched queen #roshani chokshi #tamora pierce #bitterblue #red sister #garth nix #sabriel #library at mount char

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